#often means that character is longing for someone else

[vixenscratch]

What I do seems to be the opposite of what everyone else does, so, like. If it works for you, great! If it doesn’t, don’t follow my example.

I’ve found that the worst thing I can do is to wait until the stars align. I have someone holding me to “draw one thing a day, if it’s a stick figure that’s fine, but draw something.” (If there’s a reason to skip a day, then of course it’s okay to skip a day, just record the reason.) Because for me, if I try to wait it out, I will get anything done approximately never.

I don’t have anyone looking over my shoulder to keep me in the habit of writing, but the principle is similar. I stopped writing for years, almost completely. The only thing that helped get me started again was giving myself a low daily word count that I knew I could reach (and you can forgo the word count entirely and just make it “write something”), allowing the writing to be bad, allowing it all to be disconnected bits and pieces, random scenes that didn’t go together at all, the important thing was to train my brain to Sit Down And Write. Waiting for inspiration has just never worked for me. (Which doesn’t mean I don’t write when inspiration strikes, just that I very carefully don’t depend on it.)

A lot of it, in that initial stage, was sticking an existing character into a situation and seeing where it goes, how they react to it. Sometimes it was a random situation with random characters who didn’t exist before and wouldn’t be used again afterwards. (Most of what I write is original fiction, so insert your canon blorbos instead if that brings you joy.)

Doing that for a while shook things loose to where I could write shorts again. That’s when Fox Out of Water (shameless plug 😉) happened. Some day I will come back to those characters.

Right now I’m hopelessly wormbrained about a particular character/pairing, so I have like two dozen WIPs in various stages of completion and can’t take a walk without turning some situation involving them around in my head. But I don’t get there unless I train my brain to think writing. Having a friend to smash dolls together with helps, but I if anyone know that if you don’t already have them those friends can be difficult to find. (But I also play very rough with my toys so that limits my options more than if I was primarily writing fluff.)

I don’t need to make myself sit down and write every day right now. I can skip days and don’t keep track of what or when I write. If I feel like I have gone too long without writing I cycle through my WIPs and read through, often ending up tweaking something here or adding a sentence there, even when I don’t find the can-do to add more than that.

And sometimes I don’t stick to the WIPs, and just write a random scene/situation that’s been rattling around in my head during those walks.

For me the important thing seems to be training my brain to do the work. And sometimes the work sucks. That’s fine. I can “throw it out” (leave it in an earlier version of the draft or move it to a scratch document) later. But if I don’t do that, time gets away from me and before I know it I’ll have gone years without writing again. And I don’t want that. If I hit a point where I realize I’ve gone “too long” without writing I go back to making myself write something, anything, daily for a while.

That’s just what works for me, though. Evidently a lot of people feel very differently. Funny how different brains work (genuinely!).

Hi! Lately, I've been trying real hard to start writing again after a break of a couple of years, and it's simply not happening. I took the break to begin with because I figured that I could pick up writing fic again easily when I felt less burned out. But each time I've tried since 2025 started I can barely get the words out. I keep telling myself I need to go slow and build up to it, but my brain blanks after a sentence or two, with or without an outline. I can force myself into a drabble or two, or even a flashfic, but it feels like pulling teeth the entire time. I even tried going back to old drafts and adding to them (unsuccessfully). Nothing works! I'm getting more and more frustrated and angry with myself for taking this long of a break from being creative. Do you have any concrete recommendations for what to do when the ideas/words/characters/whatever just aren't coming? My brain is mush.

(I love this blog. So excited to see you back.)

I'll tell you what I do, but I also want to encourage folks to add their thoughts on the notes. This is very much a situation that can be worked on in a million different ways, so any one particular take might or might not work. Often, frankensteining a bunch together is the better route.

I've currently got two creative hobbies: writing fic and making site skins for AO3. When a site skin isn't working, I just have to drop it. I've been attempting to redo my glowy blue Tron skin from like 4 years ago and every time I go back to it, I just get frustrated and need to stop. I don't have a clear idea of where I want to take it, and so nothing looks "right" because everything feels wrong. For site skins, I need to have a solid idea to latch onto in order to get anywhere with them.

For writing, it's kind of similar. It's a LOT easier to write when I have an idea that really lights a fire under me. However, I've found that I can write even if I just know what the end goal of the story is. Even if my ending is just "and then they bone" at least I know where I need to get my characters in the end, and that guiding principle is really helpful because most of what my characters do in the fic is going to be aimed at that end point.

I don't know if it's just the way that you've phrased it in this ask, but it seems like you can't see the story for the words. If you're focused too much on the act of writing then you might need to back away from that for now and work on just imagining the story first. Spend more time daydreaming or lying in bed staring up at the ceiling and picturing your blorbo in situations. Get into the habit of thinking about the story before you start writing the story. Then the writing part is just transcribing the picture that's already clear in your head.

I well understand the frustration that comes when you've got something in you and no way to get it out. Whatever else is happening, the way you used to go about writing fic doesn't work for you anymore and now you need to discover a new method. Maybe it's handwriting in a notebook instead of typing on a screen. Maybe it's dictating into your notes app. Maybe it's chatting it out with a bestie over coffee or in a DM. Maybe it's something else.

Let's see what other people suggest for you, and then you can cobble together a method of your very own. Good luck, anon! I'm rooting for you ❤️

[taylanix]

Hey guess what

Ramble time

Todays topic of discussion: My Rocket Raccoon design that I do not have a ref sheet for + some headcannons for this one

Aka this man:

His outfit takes from a variety of designs from the games, movies, and comics. Most notably his jacket, pants, and gloves are from rivals, and then the clothes underneath are inspo from both MCU and GOTG 2021 game. Goggles are from Avengers: Endgame (not pictured).

Fur pattern mostly matches rivals design with some tweaks. He does have a hole in his ear above where his earing is (again another design taken from both games). This hole is actually due to this Rocket's specific lore (which mainly follows MCU) where HE tagged him and when he escaped either he tore it off or someone else did (ouch). Example of when he had it:

(yes I want to give yall this image again. I love how innocent he looks)

If y'all would like I can make another ramble post over this version of events in this universe. ANYWAY BACK TO THE DESIGN.

Now this is just general design choices I do with rocket. First off is that his eyes are all red for most of the designs I give. His sclera is a bright red followed with the outer part of the pupil as a dark red and then the inner part being a softer red. The only exception is Celestial Rocket who has a different eye color (Yellow -> Dark pink -> Light pink). His eye shape is also very angular compared to more round. Most of his character design for me includes sharp points and spikey meaning his eyes should reflect it. The only time his eyes are not round was when he was a baby.

All my rockets have claws! Most of the time his claws are a dark shade of brown like usual raccoon claws. However some designs I give him white/clear claws bc it matches better with the color scheme. Going along with this is that his paws actually are two-toned. The top of his hands and feet are covered in his light brown fur while the inner/underside of his hands are the same color as his dark brown fur. This is to be like how actual raccoon paws are with having a darker underside.

Fun fact: The drawing below he does not have paw pads as raccoons do not have it them but they are in fact calluses. His hands are sensitive so thats why he wears gloves unless he needs to use his hands to see what he is doing.

Headcanon time:

He has decent eyesight but sometimes its strained. He owns glasses but doesn't like using them unless its for stuff up close that he cant make out. He does not defeat the tired dad allegations with his kid (Groot)

He is still very much an asshole to everyone but some people have it less. His favorite guardians are Groot, Mantis, and Nebula while his least favorite is Quill (hes still fine with him but likes the other 3 more).

I cannot for the life of me find the post but someone said that Rocket would love spicy food. I agree with that even though raccoons hate spice just so the imagery of white boy Quill dying to his food is funny. If someone has the link to the post I will link it here.

The underside of his hands are very sensitive to touch which is why he wears gloves. He hates it when any of the guardians (besides groot) or gross material touches his hand without his gloves. He often reacts violently when someone touches his hand without permission (often just a nip or claw swipe).

Overall bc he is an actual raccoon he is very sensitive to a lot of things which makes him easy to anger when everything at once is going on. No wonder he is pissy during fights.

Consider yourself lucky is he falls asleep by you or next to you. Groot is #1 at this ranking due to the closeness of the two while both Nebula and Mantis are tied for #2. Nebula is at number 2 due to her and rocket getting along and having to spend a long while together. Mantis is at number 2 bc she will just scoop him up and take him to watch stuff as a break. He often falls asleep when extra tired. The person in last place is drax. The amount of times Drax has made a reference to eating him/animals similar to him makes him not trust sleeping by Drax alone.

Continuing with the sleeping habits, when he sleeps in his hammock he is sleeping either one of two ways. First way he is on his back splayed out like he owns the ship. 2nd way is he's curled up with his tail by him/using it as a pillow.

He can grow a beard if he so does wish so (like 2021 Rocket) but chooses not to. Instead he has just barely any scruff.

He has a very fluffy tail bc I say so

As much as he represses it, he will make chattering and other raccoon noises when working. He eventually learns to actually use these sounds this on jobs with the others when alerting them of trouble, he's in position, or just to mess with them. Its great bc he sounds like an animal but he will get picked on if he purrs (he nearly bit off quills arm).

Thats all for now.

[bardic-tales]

Building a Goddess from Grief: a behind-the-scenes look at Fantasy Worlds Collide, an original-fandom hybrid passion project

When people read about Bianca Moore — goddess of annihilation, divine mother, destroyer of worlds — they’re often meeting her at the end of a long and violent metamorphosis. But she didn’t begin that way, and neither did I.

FWC is a project I formally curated three years ago, but its roots reach back to 1997, across discarded drafts, old roleplays, and forgotten WIPs. Bianca evolved as I did. She is shaped by the slow, painful process of naming my trauma and reclaiming authorship over my own story. This isn’t a clean character arc. It’s messy, rage-fueled, maternal, and sometimes terrifying. But that’s what makes it honest.

In tracing how my worldview and healing shaped Bianca’s journey, I’m not just showing how a character arc changed. I’m showing how one rises above trauma, and, ultimately, how writing became resistance.

Possible Trigger Warnings: abuse, caregiving trauma, childhood trauma, emotional neglect, generational trauma, internalized abuse, medical trauma, parental abuse, queerphobia, self-erasure, trauma recovery

When I started writing Bianca in the 1990s, she wasn’t a divine being. She was a scientist who comforted Sephiroth between injections: a soft, loyal character whose main role was to soothe a man society would later deem monstrous. That wasn’t just poor characterization. It was a reflection of how I saw myself.

As someone who had survived early abuse and emotional neglect, I believed my purpose — both in fiction and in real life — was to make other people’s pain easier to bear. The fact that I never gave her a voice, only a function, mirrors how I learned to survive. I learned to survive by erasing my needs and becoming what others required, as Bianca became what Sephiroth required.

The Pandemonix Arc came after I began naming what happened to me as abuse. Bianca’s celestial/demonic origin, her violent awakening by Asmodeus, and the way her powers emerged through trauma were shaped directly by my realization that I hadn’t just suffered. I had been harmed by someone who should have protected me. Writing Asmodeus was my way of giving form to the cruelty and control I had lived under, particularly the emotional and physical violence of my mother. His brutality wasn’t fantasy. It was allegory. Bianca’s refusal to break under him, her eventual rebellion, and her killing of her abuser became my way of rewriting the story I never got to live. She didn’t just survive. She named the abuse, severed the bond, and destroyed the legacy that tried to define her, as I am still trying to do. I refuse to break, rebelled by escaping, and have now metaphorically severed my ties to the one who should have protected me but failed me since I was five.

In the wips that makes up the FF VII arc, I was still grieving my lost adolescence at the time of writing those. Like Bianca, I had been responsible for things a child should never carry: caregiving, emotional labor, and fear of being myself. Her relationship with Sephiroth started as a reflection of that.

Bianca believed that by loving someone broken. She could fix herself. But over time, that evolved. In the Kilonova Crisis, Bianca wasn’t healing through love anymore. She was healing with rage. She didn’t suppress her pain to be worthy of someone else’s attention. She used it to destroy the systems that made her suffer. That shift came directly from my own experiences in therapy, disability, and trauma advocacy. It is where I learned that not all healing is gentle. Sometimes healing is a weapon. And, most of the time, healing is NOT linear. It is messy and chaotic.

The Godling Arc surprised me. It was never part of the original plan. Becoming a mother and having that child graduate in real life changed how I saw Bianca’s endgame. Her destructive phase had meaning, but it wasn’t the end. As Bianca bore / created children of her own, she began to push back not only against Sephiroth’s generational violence, but against the last lingering voice of her trauma: Jenova.

Just like Asmodeus, Jenova is a parental figure, but she represents the internalized voice of the abuser: the one that tells you you're never enough, never safe, and never clean. She is the false mirror and the manipulator, the part of abuse that sometimes arrives dressed as affection (as soon by her visions as Lucrecia to Sephiroth in Ever Crisis). Jenova, in FWC, sometimes embodies the love-bombing phase: the lingering anxiety after the blow, the sudden gift that’s meant to rewrite the narrative. It’s not real love. It’s a performance, meant to make the abuser feel better about themselves, while keeping the victim locked in confusion and guilt.

But there is resistance, as Bianca wakes up. In rebelling against Sephiroth’s control, protecting her children, and refusing to pass on that legacy, Bianca wasn’t just reshaping her destiny. She was silencing the voice in her head that once sounded like a parental, parasitic voice. Writing this arc allowed me to imagine what it meant to mother from a place of power and softness, not fear. It was the first time I let Bianca be more than an avenger or weapon. She became sovereign. She became everything my inner child needed to heal. It allowed me to realize that I, myself, broke the cycle with my own daughter and protected her from my own abuser.

FWC, as a curated universe, is only three years old, but it contains nearly three decades of writing, characters, and discarded drafts spanning from 1997 to 2025. My worldview, healing, and rage didn’t just inspire Bianca. They created her: as a dark side of me. Her arcs evolved because I did. Where I once wrote to escape, I now write to name, to reclaim, and to design something better.

FWC is not a sanitized mythos. It’s a map of my own survival. That’s why she never stayed the version I started with. And that’s why, no matter how the world collapses around her, Bianca rises: not untouched, but rewritten by fire. This time, her growth is on her own terms.

@themaradwrites @shepardstales @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon @projecthypocrisy @serenofroses

@sapphirothcrescent @tolliver-j-mortaelwyver

[herefortheships]

Lydia sleeping on one side of the bed like she's leaving a space open for Betelgeuse at the end there. 😌

No but seriously she totally is? Subconsciously there's a space for him in her life always. I know I keep saying this, but she totally has feelings for him, buried inside her. What those feelings actually are is something she has to figure out. (She started that journey in BJBJ; she even got to face him and banish him and all. Did that manage whatever feelings she has for him though? Nope).

She's sleeping alone and yet she's leaving all that space next to her like she's sleeping with a spouse. The visual storytelling here implies she's longing for someone to take that space.

And who else is she longing for if not Betelgeuse? It's not Richard, hello. Ok it's past midnight and I'm exhausted so maybe I'm reaching. But this makes sense to me rn so I'm posting.

[lyxchen]

Okay so I've heard this said a bunch of times and I'm gonna admit I thought like that too for a while but no, Gi-hun did not win the games because he was lucky. A lot of people think that's how he won because he never killed anybody but that's really not the point. Gi-hun won the games because a) he's smart and is able to look at things from a different angle, b) because he is a good and kind person who also believes in others and c) because of the goodness and care get got back from other people.

In the first game he survived because Ali saved him and that wasn't luck, that was Ali being a good person and helping somebody not get killed. Ali could've not caught him, let him die, he didn't even know Gi-hun at all at that point and he put himself in more danger too by having to hold on to a person while standing completely still but he still saved Gi-hun because Ali is a good person.

In the Dalgona game he quite literally Was Not Lucky. He decided to go with the umbrella which is the worst shape to pick and he probably would have died if he hadn't looked at the game in a different way and decided to change his strategy. Gi-hun is smart. He is also optimistic and so he tried something new and found a different way to beat that game.

In the third game he survived because he was smart and kind enough to listen to Il-nam. The other people in their group dismissed him as just an old man speaking but Gi-hun didn't and that way they had a good strategy to beat the other team. The same goes for him listening to Sang-woo's idea of running three steps and then stopping, which ultimately was what saved them. His group also chose him as their leader (who, as Il-nam said, needs to not seem weak or loose hope because then the whole team is doomed). His team trusted in him and his optimism and they were right to do so.

In the marbles game he won because he was once again kind and decided to team up with Il-nam and also because in the end Il-nam decided to "sacrifice himself" for Gi-hun because he showed him kindness before. Yes Il-nam didn't actually die but he also knew that Gi-hun had cheated and still let him continue on to the next game, probably because Gi-hun had been good and kind and caring towards him before, even though he really didn't have to be. Gi-hun also didn't know this but by teaming up with Il-nam he inadvertently ensured that Il-nam had a lot more fun in the games than he would have had, had everybody just ignored to "old, fragile man". Gi-hun was good to Il-nam throughout all the games and it ended up saving him in the marbles game.

In the fifth game it's only some small moments as Gi-hun isn't really involved in the game because he's the last number but still it wasn't just luck. First of all he was kind enough to give the number 1 to the player that asked him for it. Yes, that number was bad but he didn't know that and had he been selfish enough to say no to that other player he wouldn't have survived. Being the last to play in any game can end up being bad for you, still he decided to give up the number he picked because the other player asked him to. Secondly he also survived that game because Sae-byeok was kind enough to remind him of which glass tile to step on after he had forgotten which one it was. It's only small but she didn't have to tell him and still she did. Sae-byeok btw is also good to him because before that he was good to her and protected her (even though he was angry at her at first) and that way he was able to gain her trust.

Lastly he won the Squid Game because Gi-hun was kind to Sang-woo and because Sang-woo deep down was still a good person. There were probably many reasons as to why Sang-woo decided to kill himself in the end but part of it, I'm sure, was also because Gi-hun was a good friend to him. I mean Gi-hun was even willing to give up all the money and go back home with nothing gained if it meant that Sang-woo didn't have to die and would be able to come home with him. Gi-hun deserved that win and that money and in the end Sang-woo knew that. He also knew that Gi-hun would make sure to take care of Sang-woo's mother and that he wouldn't just take all the money for himself because Sang-woo knew that Gi-hun is a good person. (Gi-hun technically also won the Squid Game because he was good at it which is also him being smart)

So in conclusion and I hope y'all haven't stopped reading yet: Gi-hun didn't win the games because he was lucky. He didn't just sit around doing nothing and won anyways. He won because he was smart but even more importantly he won because of the kindness and goodness that exists in humans and that is especially present in him. He won because he had empathy, because people trusted him, because he got back from them what he gave to them first. He never killed anyone and we can clearly see that he Could Never kill anyone in those games but that's not his weakness. Just because he didn't let himself get corrupted and turned into what the games wanted him to turn into doesn't mean he won because of luck. Him not playing by those subtle, hidden rules that are made to force him to be bad, to not care about others and to give up his kindness actually means he was better than the games. He won because he didn't let them turn him into a monster. They tried really hard and they failed and that's how he won!! But also on top of that he also won because he isn't the only good person in this show. He also won because other people helped him, were kind to him and gave a shit about him. Each and every person that helped Gi-hun didn't have to do that. They all could have not helped him, Ali could have not caught him, Sae-byeok could have not told him which one was the correct glass tile, hell, she could have Lied to him about it and the only difference it would have made for the other players would have been them being one more dead person closer to winning all that money. But that's really not how humans are and act which is why all these people helped Gi-hun, helped each other in small or big ways and in the end his own kindness and the kindness that exists in other people is what lead to Gi-hun winning. That's not luck. That humans being good

[shepcdr]

head empty when it comes to putting ic words on the dash... but at the same time, agender/nonbinary yishai shepard is living in my mind rent-free i fear. thinking about this and its relation to yishai's intensely strong empathy for the geth and for edi: beings crafted as tools of labour and war (in terms of the geth) and intelligence, as tools of service to a master. things to whom autonomy was denied, their freedoms shackled, their enquiries towards their own identities — and their rights to simply be — seen as threats to be crushed underfoot.

there is a reason he rarely, rarely ever chooses the destroy ending, and a reason that he is so utterly crushed and devastated when he does. (and he is contrite until the geth and edi are brought fully back to functionality — however i plan to make that happen in my happy ending — and even after.)

[lesbiradshaw]

i wish nonlesbians could be Normal about lesbian headcanons or characters

[possessedscholar]

Not all of The Rules Of The Internet (origin of Rule 34 and, less remembered, Rules 50 (A Crossover, no matter how improbable, will eventually happen in Fan Art, Fan Fiction, or official release material, often through fanfiction of it) and 63 (For every given male character, there is a female version of that character (and vice-versa). And there is always porn of that character.) has aged well, but always remember a few other rules (boiled down to the basic meaning):

Rule 11: No matter how much you love debating, keep in mind that no one on the internet debates. Instead they mock your intelligence as well as your parents. (Never assume any “debate” is done in good faith if you have any reason to believe otherwise)

Rule 13: Anything you say can and will be turned into something else (someone somewhere will maliciously twist your words)

Rule 14: Do not argue with trolls—it means they win. (Don’t Feed The Trolls, block em and go, you don’t owe them shit)

Rule 33: Lurk moar—it's never enough. (If you don’t know, don’t speak up. Internet version of “better to be silent and thought a fool, than to open your mouth and confirm it”)

Rule 39: CAPS LOCK IS CRUISE CONTROL FOR COOL. (Classic memes never truly go out of style, someone will appreciate it…)

Rule 40: EVEN WITH CRUISE CONTROL YOU STILL HAVE TO STEER (…but you can always go overboard, mix it up every once in a while)

Rule 49: No matter what it is, it is somebody's fetish. (Self explanatory, but in more modern times a reminder to be wary of people asking for things you don’t possibly believe could be a fetish)

Rule 62: It has been cracked and pirated. You can find anything if you look long enough. (Keep Circulating The Tapes, and ask any tech savvy friends if they know a guy)

[ao3commentoftheday]

there's a character i've been having a hard time writing for, because i feel like i can't really grasp his personality. i'm not even writing in his POV, but he needs to be in some of the scenes of my fic and i want him to be as in-character as everyone else. what can i do to start to understand this character?

When I'm trying to get a handle on a character, I tend to rewatch their scenes. Listen carefully to how the character speaks - do they have a speaking style or choice of words that feels more "them"? Watch how they move. What gestures do they often use? What does their face look like when they're worried? confused? angry? in love? I find that getting their voice and their physicality right can get you a long way to feeling in-character to the casual reader.

Motivations might be harder to spot since they're internal. But that also means that you get to make your own decisions about why they do the things they do. What do you know about their backstory that might explain their emotional state? What do you know about their current relationships that might affect their decision-making? How do their goals and dreams move them down one path or another in their life? How do their failures prevent them from doing something they otherwise want to do?

Another way to get a better idea of the character is to read other people's meta posts about them. The great thing about characters is that everything about them is made up, so when you're reading those meta posts you might agree with some things people are saying and disagree with others. By picking through those different ideas, you'll find yourself gradually creating your own picture of this character and their motivations that will feel true to you.

What about the rest of you? How do you figure out characterization for someone who haven't written very much before?

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - the boy is mine

warnings ; this is porn. that’s all there is to it. reader is PINING, reader’s bff is a cunt, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, spit play kinda, jk worshipping you, someone walks in on yall..

prompt ; in which your best friend needs to be taught a lesson on who your crush belongs to.

a/n ; i mean, this is absolute whore behavior on my end and i have no words. beware this is long AS A MOTHERFUCKER. and so much plot. enjoy. also this is college!jk and reader so WOO (also loosely based on the boy is mine - arianaaaa)

Some people were just meant to be in the background.

Or, at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for quite some time now.

You were the kind of person who blended into the background, voice barely rising above a whisper when spoken to, presence often slipping unnoticed into corners of rooms. Some days were spent in Yonsei University’s prestigious library, buried in books, worlds that didn’t require attention, where the characters spoke louder than you dare would. It wasn’t that you minded, though — you were content to remain in the quiet… well, as long as your best friend, Seo-yeon, shone like a star in the midst of it all.

Nevertheless, there were times when her shine cast a shadow, and that light felt a little too harsh. You didn’t mind when Seo-yeon needed a shoulder to lean on, but lately it seemed like all she did was lean — never giving anything in return. And you tried to brush it off, scolding your brain it’s just the pressure of her rich father but deep down, you could not shake the feeling that Seo-yeon’s warmth was only reserved for someone else.

And that someone was your best friend since you were 10, Jeon Jungkook.

You get it. Who wouldn’t? Hottest guy at school, richest parents, biggest heart… and from the rumor mill, his heart wasn’t the only thing that was big.

It’s always just been you and him.

Jungkook and [Y/N], [Y/N] and Jungkook.

Best friends since grade school, partners in crime on the playground. Really, they were setting you up for failure by having your best friend be someone who had a revolving door of women in his life. Even back then, he somehow garnered more attention than an average adult. It was just who he was. You accepted that.

But then, somewhere along the timeline of convoluted wreckage your life, you two grew up. Grew closer, somehow. The lines of your life intertwined, never straying too far apart.

So, it was really no surprise to you when you woke up one day and realized you were madly, deeply, irrevocably, disgustingly, head over heels in love with him.

You had convinced yourself, over and over, that Jungkook knew. How could he not?

It was like this: you had seen a kiss in a television show when you were 11. Pondered what it felt like to do such a thing.

It had been a fleeting moment, so innocent — just a brush of lips under the old oak tree in the park when you were 12, surrounded by the laughter of friends and the warmth of summer. But in that brief, stolen instant, something shifted inside you, a chemical reaction. The memory of that first kiss, so pure and untainted, lingered in the air, like a secret only you two shared.

You caught the glint in his eyes afterward, the way he looked at you as if seeing you for the first time, and ever since… well, ever since then, you’ve been his.

When Seo-yeon casually mentioned over drinks one night that Jungkook was sooooo cute and she was thinking of going for it, well, you should’ve been shocked, but how could you be?

She knew exactly what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid to take it, even if it meant stepping on the quiet spaces you had carved out for yourself. It stung, of course, the idea that she could waltz in and claim something you had quietly held onto for years.

But deep down, you knew the truth. You knew you would never go for it, not really — not with the unspoken barrier between you two, that kiss from ages ago still lingering in the air, in your blood.

And yet, Seo-yeon’s confidence in taking what she wanted, without hesitation or doubt, only reminded you of how much you were willing to give up, just to keep the peace. That’s who she was.

And you? Well, you were the one who always let her take.

All that to say, this is why you’re standing with your spine pressed into the cold wall, eyes burning holes into Seo-yeon’s back, fingers digging into your red solo cup, heart thumping, as you watched her flirt with Jungkook.

It was supposed to be a fun night. Key word: supposed. Jungkook’s best friend, Jimin, had invited everyone to his house for a ‘get-together.’ You should’ve known when you got the invite it would be a party, another chance for you to be a wallflower.

And wallflower you are, assuming your post, drinking whatever concoction Jimin’s roommate had created.

It is a tragedy.

The music swirls around you, yet you’re caught in the gravity of Seo-yeon and Jungkook’s orbit. Every glance, every word that passes between them felt like a blade to your chest. Her laughter rings out, effortless and bright, and you watch as she leans in closer to Jungkook, her fingers grazing his arm in a way that made the air between them shimmer with something unspoken.

You could feel the tension coiling inside you, a painful knot you didn’t know how to undo.

And before you do anything rash (or well, not that you will, but the thought of it) you hear a familiar voice that calms you down in the slightest.

“Boo.”

You instantly know it’s Taehyung, Jungkook’s other close friend who you’ve somehow managed to also become buddy-buddy with. You kinda had to, just to prove to Jungkook you can make other friends beside Seo-yeon. Tsk.

You lightly smile at him, but you refuse to take your eyes off Jungkook and Seo-yeon, as if you turn away for a second, they may leave you in the dust.

“You know… You’ve been staring at them like you’re waiting for them to start a new Netflix series or something.” He whispers near your ear, as if it’s some massive secret that no one could possibly guess.

You blink, startled, “I’m not staring,” you mumble, but Taehyung only raises an eyebrow.

“Sure you’re not. You're practically giving them a live commentary in your head, huh?

You scoff. “I don’t care if they talk. Honestly, I want them to get together. I mean, why not? It’s what she wants.”

His elbow lightly digs into your side, making you slap him away with ease, “Oh, really? Is that what you want? You’re not fooling anyone. You’re practically trying to will them together while simultaneously wanting to rip your hair out.”

“Why would you think I don’t want them to get together?” You roll your eyes.

You know exactly why. It may have to do with the fact that besides your diary, Seo-yeon and yourself, Taehyung also knows about your little infatuation (which, and you remind yourself, only happened because you got quite drunk with him at the bar and admitted it two months ago.)

You don’t see it, but he rolls his eyes again. “You are the worst liar I know.”

“I’m not lying,” you insist.

He raises his arms up in defeat, “Fine, if lying is the route we’re taking, at least just tell Seo-Yeon to go home. Seriously, who even invited her?"

You finally remove your eyes off Jungkook and Seo-yeon to face Taehyung, who definitely looks drunker than you think he sounds. “I’m not doing that. And plus, she’s my best friend.”

He snorts, “Really? The same best friend who’s currently talking to the boy she knows you’re in love with?”

Taehyung continues, probably, and you can only assume, because he got you to tear your eyes away from them and their incessant giggles. Really, what is so damn funny? “You’re practically turning into an accessory to the decor. Please go take him away from her. He already adores you.”

Jungkook did adore you — there was no doubt about that. When you both got accepted into the same university, he immediately integrated you into every friend group, every hangout.

But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

The temptation to rip Seo-yeon away, to somehow be the one he turned to, was enough as it is — but the fear of being seen, of finally stepping off the wall and making yourself known, keeps you frozen.

Taehyung throws his hands up in mock defeat. "Alright, alright, I give up. Do whatever you want, missy. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You look up at him, swirling your drink that’s been boiled down to just ice. “Warn me about what?”

“Don’t let this be one of those things you look back on and regret, thinking you should've acted before it was too late.”

You know Taehyung is right, though admitting it felt like admitting defeat. You think back to those moments with Jungkook — the way his high fives always lasted a second longer than they should, or how his fingers brush against your shoulder in the most casual way, as if it wasn’t just a touch, but something that had meaning beneath it. There were those weird moments too, when his gaze would linger, his eyes soft, as though he was on the edge of something he couldn't quite grasp.

Deep down, there was that small, quiet part of you that wondered if he ever felt the same — if he ever wondered, like you did, whether you two could be more than just friends.

"Wow, when did you get so deep? You sound like one of those motivational speakers who talks about following your dreams and embracing the moment,” It’s your turn to roll your eyes, playfully pushing his shoulder.

He shoots you a knowing look. "Hey, I’m just trying to save you from becoming the wise old lady at the bar telling stories about how you ‘almost’ told Jungkook you liked him when you were young and full of hope."

“Well, thank you for the life lesson.” You look down at your cup, a heinous purple color now that the ice has completely melted. “I’ll stick to my alcohol for now.”

He saunters off, weaseling his way through the hoard of people to bully his next victim, you suppose. You are a little tipsy, you won’t lie.

With a sigh, you turn your head back to Seo-yeon and Jungkook.

…Where the fuck are they?

Now it’s time to panic.

You push through a few random guys and girls, silently saying excuse me basically to no one but yourself. Vision gets hazy, but you can’t tell if it’s tears or the punch.

Heart flutters, skips a beat. Thank god. There he is, pouring himself a cup at the drink table that’s been set up in the dining room. No Seo-yeon in sight. You assume you have 5 seconds before she comes back from wherever she is to trap him once more.

You waltz up to the drink table, trying to act casual, but your heart skips when you see Jungkook standing there, grinning like he knows exactly what’s going on in your head. He waves you over with that signature carefree smile, his bunny teeth poking out. “Well, well, look who finally decided to show up. Were you hiding from me or just avoiding everyone?”

Your hands are suddenly unsure of where to go as you fiddle with your cup. “I wasn’t hiding! Just… you know, blending in with the background. Like I do.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, his smirk turning into something a little more teasing. “Blending in? You? You’re like, the least subtle person here. You stand out more than the punch bowl.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You joke as you lean over him to pour yourself another cup of punch.

He laughs, leaning closer as if he was about to share a secret. “Okay, but seriously, where have you been? Where’s your head at? I know, I know I said get-together… but it’s definitely a party.”

“Tsk, tsk. You little player,” You sip your drink, looking up into his doe eyes. God, he’s just so…

Your curiosity gets the best of you. “So, uh... what’s the deal with Seo-yeon? You two talking about something important, or is she just... I don’t know, using you for your impeccable taste in drinks?”

The jealousy tugging at your chest makes it harder than you expect to sound casual.

A small chuckle escapes him. “Seo-yeon? Nah, she’s just, uh, talking my ear off about some random stuff. Nothing exciting.”

He shrugs like it was nothing, his tone so nonchalant it almost makes you second-guess why it bothered you in the first place. “Honestly, I don’t even know half of what she’s saying. I’m just nodding and pretending to be interested.”

You blink, surprised that anyone could be bored at anything she had to say. “Wait, really? You’re just... pretending?”

“Yep,” Jungkook grins, eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s a skill I’ve perfected over the years. Maybe you should teach me how to do it with more people, though. I’m still not great at pretending to listen to people who don’t bring snacks.”

You laugh, a bit of the tension in your chest easing. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But seriously, you’re not fooling anyone. You’re way too nice to actually ignore people."

He shrugs his broad shoulders, something you’ve come to notice as he’s grown older. “Possibly, but—“

Your breath hitches when Seo-yeon reappears, her presence as loud and effortless as a storm breaking the quiet.

With a smile that’s all too practiced, she glides over, her eyes immediately locking with Jungkook’s, as if the space between them had always been empty, waiting for her to fill it.

“Hey, Jungkook,” she purrs, fingers brushing against his arm as she leans in a little too close, a flirtatious glimmer dancing in her eyes. “Still owe me that drink, remember?”

Jungkook’s smile widens, completely unphased by her proximity. His fingers wrap around the cup and he hands it to her, their hands brushing lightly, “Of course,” he says, his voice soft, full of that gentle affection that makes you want to stick a fork in your eye.

You feel the familiar nerves rise in your chest, the uncertainty pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t shake. The scene before you is too much, and you find yourself backing away instinctively, eyes flickering toward the exit.

You just need to escape, even for a second. But before you can take another step, Jungkook’s voice cuts through the hum of the room, “Hey, do you wanna go play darts? Jimin has not shut up about it and I want to test out my skills.”

And he does it again. Digs you deeper and deeper into that dream of yours.

You take another sip out of your cup, locking eyes with Seo-yeon, who, for once in her life, looks nervous. See, if you weren’t 3 drinks deep, and you weren’t so desperate to remove her away from him, you would’ve went back to your post on the wall.

But Taehyung’s words linger in your brain like a broken record.

“You know, actually, I need to steal Seo-yeon away for a quick minute,” You reach out, grip onto her arm like it’s your lifeline. You’re almost certain you draw your fingernails in a little too deep to her skin.

“Huh?” Her eyes widen, blinking a few times.

You drag her through the crowd, pulling her to the opposite side of the room with a swiftness that leaves Jungkook utterly baffled. He has stopped questioning yours and Seo-yeon’s friendship altogether.

Your nerves buzz with the alcohol in your system, and before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out. "Why are you flirting with Jungkook?"

There it was, out in the open. Lingering in the air like a cloud of smoke.

Seo-yeon blinks in surprise, eyebrows rising as if you had just grown another head. “What are you talking about?” she replies with that same airy sweetness, but the underlying edge is unmistakable. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Friendly?” You scoff, feeling the alcohol’s warmth pushing your boldness forward. “It’s like you’re auditioning for a role in Jungkook’s life or something. You're so obvious.”

Seo-yeon laughs dismissively. “I didn’t realize you cared so much, [Y/N]. Wow, look at you. Finally standing up for yourself. Guess it only took a little bit of liquid courage, huh?”

She tilts her head, voice teasing. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

All you see is red, and you’re kinda imagining what her head would look like ripped out of its socket.

She keeps pushing, keeps pressure testing, keeps dragging the knife through you. “Whatever. If you want to make this a thing, go ahead. But don’t act like I’ve been the one playing games.”

“You know what?” It’s a rhetorical question, turning back to you with a slight tilt of her head. “If you’re not going to make a move, I’m all in on Jungkook. You’ve had your chance. It’s not my fault you can’t get out of your own head.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and something in you snaps. The rage bubbles up from deep inside you — something you’d never shown Seo-yeon before. She wasn’t allowed to take this from you too.

"Is that it, then?" You bite back, the question trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "You think you can just take everything from me because I'm not bold enough for you? You think you can just waltz in and claim him like he's some kind of prize because you know I won’t fight you for him? That’s not how this works, Seo-yeon."

Seo-yeon opens her mouth to respond, but you’re not finished. “No. I’m done letting you walk all over me. I care, Seo-Yeon. I care about him."

And now you can’t stop it, this word vomit that has plagued you; it keeps tumbling out, slurred but filled with an undeniable intensity.

You don’t care anymore. The alcohol has loosened every restraint, every last thread of caution. "You’ve known. You’ve known I loved him this whole damn time. You’ve always known, and you’ve always taken from me—always—like you could just have whatever you wanted. I’m done pretending I’m okay with it.”

The silence between you two feels like a storm brewing, and you, a tad too drunk to fully grasp what you’re saying, but not so drunk that you don’t know it was the truth.

Seo-yeon’s lips curl into a sly smile, eyes flicking to the side before meeting yours again. "Well, you know what they say…the best girl always wins, right?"

You’ve already ruined the friendship, put the nail in the coffin and sent her floating down the river. You grip your red solo cup so roughly you think it might break, “You think you're the best girl? Maybe it's time someone showed you that I’m done being second place. I’m done being the girl who just watches. I’m going to fight for him. You’ve had your turn, Seo-yeon.”

Seo-yeon’s eyes widen just a fraction, but she quickly regains her composure, laughing lightly. “Oh, really? You’re going to fight for him now? How cute.”

Your jaw tightens, but she doesn’t back down. “Yeah. I am.”

And you are certain if only Taehyung could hear you now, he would throw another party just for you having this conversation. You storm away, leave her in the dust to settle on its own. A part of your resolve breaks a little realizing that your own college best friend since day one of freshman year, was not the person you thought she was. But that’s not what really matters to you.

The night drags on, clusters of people fading in and out of the party. You don’t necessarily pay attention; you’re too busy feeling like a World War III hero after your triumph. You laugh with Taehyung in the corner, even flirt with a few people. Anything to take your mind off Seo-yeon desperately throwing herself at Jungkook, but you know better than to look.

Jimin, ever the instigator, suddenly stands up with a grin that spreads across his face like he holds the world’s most mischievous secret. "Alright," he begins, his voice teasing as he looks around at the gathered circle of about 20 leftover wranglers. "Truth or dare, anyone?"

You break your conversation with Taehyung, hesitating for a brief moment, heart thudding louder than the music. Normally, you would’ve stayed out of it — content to sit on the edge and observe. But tonight, something inside you whispers that this was the moment to stop being the quiet one.

A laugh bellows out from someone in the group. “Really, Jimin? Truth or dare? We’re in our twenties, not twelve.”

Jimin just shrugs, the playful gleam in his eyes still dancing. “Don’t care. It’s fun.” As if daring was the only thing that could make the night memorable.

As the silly little game begins, you can’t help but notice the way Seo-yeon scrambles to sit next to Jungkook, her movements almost too eager. She slides onto the floor beside him, her hand brushing his casually, but it doesn’t escape your notice.

It doesn’t help that Jungkook, who had been laughing and talking with the others, now seems to have caught sight of the silence that stretched between you and your friend. His gaze flickers toward you for a split second, brow furrowed slightly. There’s concern in his eyes, like he could sense the shift, the distance between you two, the fact that you hadn’t exchanged a word since the heated conversation.

And for a moment, you swear he looks... worried. It’s only a glance, but it sends a ripple of uncertainty through you.

The game kicks off with such chaotic energy that there’s immediate regret of your decision to join.

Shirts come off, beers chugged, some over-the-clothes fondling. Laughter and teasing echo around the room, but you can’t seem to join in. Your nerves twist inside you, coiling tighter with every round. Every time your eyes flick toward Jungkook, your heart skips, and you can feel your emotions swirling— confusion, desire, hurt — but the fear of being exposed keeps you frozen.

Seo-yeon, on the other hand, is all confidence, sitting smugly in her chair with a knowing smile, like she already knows she’d be the center of attention. Like she knows, deep down, you won’t stand a chance.

Then, Jimin’s voice breaks through your fog of thoughts, full of mischief. "Alright," he says, eyes dancing as he turns toward Seo-yeon and Jungkook. "I dare you two to kiss for five seconds."

You might as well have just shot yourself right in the face.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your pulse thunders in your ears as you watch your (ex) best friend’s eyes light up with the thrill of the challenge. It was as if it’s too easy for her — too perfect an opportunity to pass up.

Without hesitation, she leans toward Jungkook, her lips finding his effortlessly. The room seems to quiet for a moment, and then it’s the silence that feels louder than anything.

But what makes your stomach twist isn’t just the kiss itself — it’s the way Seo-yeon’s gaze glances toward you just before their lips meet. The seconds stretch, and you can barely breathe, and your heart could very well break right then and there.

The kiss is over before you can even process the feeling of it, but the knot in your chest remains, heavy and tight, long after Seo-yeon pulls away. Jungkook looks over at you, so briefly you almost don’t catch it.

Your mind races, but you struggle to push the images from your head, the lingering feeling of Seo-yeon’s smug gaze before the kiss. You take another sip, the burn of it helping to cloud the pain you don’t want to face. The weight of it sits like a stone in your chest.

Taehyung’s voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts. “[Y/N], truth or dare?” he asks as he leans into you.

Jimin shoots him a playful glare, almost about to protest, but Taehyung’s quick, silencing him with a dramatic “Shh.” The room shuts up slightly, all eyes on you as you hesitate for a fraction of a second. You’re still reeling, but the alcohol buzz emboldens you — makes you feel more confident than you had all night.

"Dare.” You don’t know where this sudden boldness was coming from, but you couldn’t back down now.

Taehyung’s grin widens, “Alright then,” he says, tapping his fingers against his drink. “I dare you to go into the closet with Jungkook for five minutes.”

The room goes quiet. So quiet that if someone dropped a pack of 1,000 pins, every single one would shatter your eardrums.

You feel the weight of the dare pressing in on your chest, but you can’t bring yourself to look away from Jungkook’s pointed gaze.

Was this a joke? Was it real? Seo-yeon’s first to break the ice, who snorts in disbelief. “Are we in fifth grade or something?”

Jungkook, who had been the definition of ‘quiet as a mouse’, his drink in hand, suddenly takes a sip. To your surprise, he looks completely unbothered, almost... eager? “Who cares?” he says with a shrug, as if the whole situation is nothing more than a harmless, impulsive decision.

You freeze for a moment. You don’t know whether to laugh, cry or throw up. But there’s not much protesting to be done because before you get a chance to speak, Taehyung is up on his feet pushing the two of you in the direction of the musty little closet.

The door clicks shut behind you, and the world outside the closet fades into nothing. Inside, the air is thick, the kind of tension that clings to the walls.

You stand like a statue. You can feel the heat of his presence even without touching him, the rhythm of his breath matching your own, as if your hearts beat in sync, caught in the same web of uncertainty. The dim light from the party barely reaches, leaving you in a space of shadows and soft, anxious breaths.

For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speak. The awkwardness hums between you like a steady pulse. You’ve known him forever but… you can feel your nerves twisting tighter and tighter, and the alcohol buzz makes it hard to think clearly, each thought slipping away just as quickly as it comes.

Jungkook finally breaks the silence, a nervous chuckle escaping him, his top teeth playing with his lip ring. "This is… um, definitely not how I expected this to go.”

You try to force a laugh, but it comes out shaky, and you immediately regret it. “Yeah, not exactly the closet of my dreams,” you joke, though your voice trembles in a way you hope he won’t call out.

And then, just like that, Jungkook’s gaze meets yours again, but this time, there’s something different in his eyes. It’s like someone ripped your best friend away from you and replaced with someone who might actually.. never mind.

He’s pressed into you, your height difference showing as his head tilts down to look at you. His lips part, like he’s debating saying something.

With a surprising gentleness, he speaks. “This is going to be so random but… do you remember our kiss?” he asks, tone low, as if the question itself carried a weight he wasn’t sure how to handle.

The memories come rushing back unbidden — a flash of two 12 year olds, awkward and innocent, caught in a moment that now seems so impossibly far away. The brush of lips, a first kiss that neither of you truly understood.

But the way he looks at you now, like the past and present were colliding in this closet, makes everything feel much more real. You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks, pulse quickening. He remembers.

“O-Of course I remember,” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, heart fluttering in your chest as the memory of the kiss resurfaces in vivid detail.

Jungkook holds your gaze, eyes dark and searching, as if he, too, was standing on the precipice of a realization. There’s a pause, a beat of silence that stretches between. And then, almost in a breath, he tries again, “My mom brought it up the other day. I didn’t know she watched my kissing virginity get taken away.”

“Oh,” you laugh. There is, quite literally, nothing funny about this. In fact, this will go on your list of Top 10 Most Embarrassing Moments (and you’ve guessed it—it’s number one.)

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he confesses, his gaze never leaving yours.

The confession hits you like a sudden gust of wind. He’s thought about it? Like the way you have, maybe, possibly? Like writing in your diary about him everyday since then? Like dreaming about kissing him again every time you’re even remotely close to him?

“So…” he starts, breaking the silence, his voice carrying an underlying curiosity. “The last time you kissed someone... was it anything like that?"

Those stupid two bunny teeth poke out in a cheeky smile as he teases you about something that should be so trivial, yet is not.

Your eyes widen at the sudden question. You don’t know whether to laugh or squirm. You can feel the warmth creep into your cheeks, and you quickly look away, focusing on the clutter in the corner of the closet to avoid meeting his gaze.

“I… What?” You stammer. "What kind of question is that?"

Jungkook chuckles softly, leaning casually against the wall. "Well, I’m just curious. You know, if it was anything like the kiss we shared all those years ago," he teases.

You roll your eyes, trying to deflect the attention. “It wasn’t like that.”

“I haven’t kissed anyone in forever. In fact…” You trail off, not knowing how to finish the sentence without sounding ridiculous. “You know that. Last time was that random dude at that party last month.”

Jungkook’s smile returns, but it’s gentler now, as if he was trying to make you feel better. “So.. What was the last kiss that actually meant something?” he asks tentatively.

You know damn well you can’t answer that without revealing too much. The truth is, there hasn’t been a kiss that meant anything — not since you were 12. But you can’t say that to him. Not yet.

“Long, long time,” You exhale.

For a moment, you swear there’s a glimmer of hope behind his welcoming eyes.

“Maybe I just haven’t found the right guy,” you say, keeping your voice steady as you try to joke your way out of it.

Jungkook laughs softly, shaking his head. "Must be hard to find someone who’s good enough to even compare to the 'best kiss ever' from when you were twelve.”

The thump thump in your chest intensifies. "Damn, you really remember that kiss, huh?"

Jungkook just smirks, his big eyes glimmering. "Of course I do. How could I forget?"

And, there’s something that switches in the air, something that makes you realize you’re not as delusional as you think. You’re thinking back to every single time he’s given you that hope to hold onto, every time he’s kept the dream alive. You meet his eyes, look into them, feel like you’re peering into his soul.

He steps a little closer, lowering his voice, a sudden seriousness in his tone. “And now… I kind of wish I could kiss you again. See if it feels the same.”

Either you are incredibly drunk, or he has lost his mind.

Your thoughts swirl in a haze of alcohol and overwhelming emotions. You blink, breath caught in your throat, trying to process.

He wants to kiss you again? What is this? What the fuck is happening?

Your voice comes out shaky, betraying the fear that had lodged itself in your chest. “Where is this coming from, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s expression falters for a brief moment, as if he hadn’t expected you to be so open. He takes a step even closer, searching your face with an intensity that makes your knees feel like jell-o. His voice is more sincere, as if trying to reassure you, or maybe even himself. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.. I mean we’ve been best friends for years.”

“I-I, maybe, who cares?” You repeat his words from earlier. “You’re drunk, Kook. We’ve been drinking for hours.”

“I’m not joking,” he says, "I wouldn’t joke about something like that."

Your breath hitches as he reaches out, hand gently brushing against yours, as if waiting for you to decide. You can feel the pulse of his touch, and with it, all the years of longing, all the secret emotions you’d kept hidden, pressing down on your chest.

It’s too much. Too much to process, too much to understand.

You’ve always been the one in love with him. Not the other way around.

Just as the words hang in the air, just as you swear he’s about to lean in and finally press his lips against yours, the quiet, intimate space you’d created shatters in an instant. The closet door suddenly flings open with a loud crash, and for a heartbeat, your world spins.

The sudden burst of light floods the small room, blinding you for a second before you recognize the faces of your friends, all grinning mischievously. Taehyung, the little shit, leans against the doorframe with a smug smirk on his face. Jimin, with his usual playful grin, stands next to him.

And then there’s Seo-yeon, leaning casually against the wall, her lips curled in a knowing smile.

You quickly step back, face burning as your eyes flick between them all, still trying to process what had just happened. Jungkook’s at a standstill beside you, face flushed as he runs a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed.

“Well, well,” Taehyung mock pouts, raising an eyebrow. “Look at that. The closet’s really the place to be, huh?”

“Didn’t take you two long,” Jimin adds with a chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. “I knew this was going to be good.”

You feel the blood rush to your face, and you can barely look at Jungkook. Your heart is still hammering, a mixture of humiliation and confusion swirling in your chest. You open your mouth to say something—anything—but words catch in your throat.

Jungkook clears his throat, taking a small step forward. “It’s not like that. We were just talking.”

“Oh, talking, huh?” Taehyung grins wider, obviously not buying it.

Your head is still spinning. The echoes of the teasing, the laughter, and the flirtation are still reverberating in your mind. You can feel the alcohol mixing with the tension that had been building up all night, and it’s just… too much to handle.

Your thoughts are a jumble — your best friend, Jungkook, the kiss that almost happened, everything is falling apart in a whirlwind of emotions.

The game seems to fizzle out after a few more rounds, yet you’re still sat there, hoping to make sense of it all.

The clock slowly ticks by, bodies still trickling in and out of the house despite how late it’s getting. And you probably should make an effort to talk to Jungkook, to fight for him, to stand up on your words to Seo-yeon.

But that’s not the case.

And so there you stand, attached to the wall yet again.

Except this time, Jungkook is peeling you off of it. He’s had enough ‘juice’ at this point to know better, to care less if he makes a fool of himself.

He makes his way toward you, his expression tight. “Can we talk?” he asks urgently. You open your mouth to protest, but before you can say anything, he’s already guiding you through the crowd, clutching your hand in his.

As you walk up the stairs, you look down at the people left over from the night, and you catch a second of a glance from Seo-yeon.

The loud music and chatter from downstairs fade as you make your way up to the quiet of the second floor. When you reach an empty bedroom, he closes the door behind you softly.

You both stand there for a moment. The fact that he’s still facing the door has you sweating through your blouse. You twiddle with your thumbs, setting your cup down.

Jungkook finally turns to face you. He takes a step forward, breath shaky. "[Y/N].. Am I crazy?”

“What do you mean?” You gulp, pressing your back into the nearby bedside table.

“Is there something here I’m missing with us.. are we good? Like, I haven’t spoken to you all night, Seo-yeon is shoving herself down my throat, and you know I hate her. And then… that stupid fucking closet has my head spinning. So, talk to me.”

You can’t believe this is happening — can’t believe he’s saying this out loud.

Without thinking, you whisper almost inaudibly, "You don’t know?"

Jungkook’s brow furrows, and he takes another small step closer, “What?”

Your heart pounds harder now, hands trembling slightly at your sides. You take a breath, then let it out slowly.

Your voice is barely a whisper, but the words feel like they had been stuck in your throat for years. Which they have, but that’s no one’s business but your own. “You had to have known I’ve been in love with you.”

Out in the open, hanging, lingering. The words dissipate into the air. You start to wonder what magic potion’s been put in this drink that has had you ending many friendships tonight.

Jungkook freezes, eyes widening. He stares at you for a long moment, disbelief flooding his features. “I didn’t… I didn’t know. If I had known...”

“If I knew…” he begins again, voice strained, almost as if he’s fighting to keep his composure.

“I would have...” He swallows hard, stepping closer to you until he’s only inches away, breath warm against your skin. “... I would have kissed you. A long time ago.”

You feel your chest tighten, the intensity of his gaze locking you in place. The air is thick with everything that had been building between you, allegedly, for years.

Jungkook’s hand twitches at his side, as if he’s fighting himself, unsure of whether to make the move or not. His gaze flickers between your lips and your eyes, a tortured look on his face. “Was it not obvious when I let you kiss me when we were 12?” he whispers.

Everything inside you screams for him to close the distance, for him to finally kiss you when you’re older. But the fear, the uncertainty, still lingers. “Jungkook...” you mutter, voice trembling.

Somehow, he always knows just what you want to say.

“I know,” he says softly, his face inches from yours now. "I know."

“It wasn’t obvious, you know,” you begin. The fire from earlier that raged when you snapped on Seo-yeon begins to reignite, to push itself to the forefront and grow as bright and red as could be.

How could he expect you to know? He had dated so many girls, so many people that weren’t you, that you had just started to normalize the fade you did into the background. It’s honestly insulting for him to think otherwise. “You dated like 10 girls after that kiss when we were younger.”

“You dated someone too,” He points out. True, but.. you only did it because he did. Which is surprising to no one.

“Yeah, but I was always there. I was always by your side, every breakup, every tear shed, hoping and praying you’d finally pick me. But there’s not a good way to say, hey I know we’ve been best friends for years but I’m in love with you. I didn’t, I don’t want to lose you,” You want to break eye contact, look away and start crying into your shirt. But you don’t. You hold your ground.

His face softens, another cautious step towards you. “You’re not going to lose me.”

He’s so close now you can feel the nerves, the heat radiating off his body. You can smell that stupid cologne he got last Christmas from his parents. You can see his silver chain glisten under the light bedroom lamp.

And then it’s just word vomit galore.

“Well, if you don’t feel the exact same, then yeah, I will lose you. For the record, Seo-yeon knows I’ve been in love with you. God, she is such a little bitch. You know I finally ended it with her tonight. She’s insane. But whatever, my point is that if you’re not also in love with me, I’m done, I’m going to move to the U.S and become a monk. This is humiliating—“

You nor him get to hear the ending of that sentence, because before you know it, his warm hands are cupping your cheeks and pulling you into him, and he’s kissing you.

It feels like this: you’re 12 again, under that white oak tree on the playground, your mothers watching a few feet away with a knowing smile on their face.

Your heart quickens up its pace, tries to catch up to what is happening. But there’s no use. You’re a goner.

The moment Jungkook’s lips meet yours, the world seems to fall away. There’s no party inside, no city stretching beyond the university — just him. Just this.

His kiss is slow at first, testing, as if savoring the feeling of finally closing the space that’s been pulling you together for so long. His fingers, warm against your cool skin, tilt your face up to him, deepening the kiss in a way that makes your breath halt.

You respond instinctively, pressing closer, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like an anchor.

You had always wondered what it would be like to kiss him when you were older (especially after he got that stupid little lip ring that had you using your vibrator more often than you liked to admit.)

Jungkook exhales against your lips, his hand sliding from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his thumb brushed circles against your skin — it all leaves you dizzy.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, each passing second making it harder to think, to focus on anything but the way his lips move against yours. He tastes faintly of liquor, of something intoxicating yet familiar, something that makes you want to drown in him completely.

“I shouldn’t have waited this long," he murmurs, almost regretful. “It’s better than it was when we were 12.”

You let out a breathy laugh, hands still fisting his shirt. "Then don’t wait anymore."

A slow smile tugs at the corner of his lips before he leans in again, this time slower, as if committing every second to memory. His lips brush yours once, twice—enough to make your knees weak—before he kisses you fully again. His tongue pokes through, and a soft whimper leaves your mouth at the contact.

Jungkook’s second kiss is different — he’s more certain. The hesitation that had lingered before was gone, now replaced by something more urgent, more consuming. His fingers tighten at your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips parting against yours.

You meet him eagerly, hands sliding up his chest, fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt. He groans softly against your mouth, a sound that sends warmth pooling in your stomach.

His tongue brushes against yours, coaxing you, before he presses in more insistently, hand cradling your jaw as if he couldn’t bear to let go. He moves down to wrap a gentle hand around your neck.

Why the fuck is your childhood best friend choking you — more importantly, why is it the best thing you’ve ever felt?

Your breath hitches as his grip on you tightens, body pressing against yours as he held you firm to the bedside table.

"Tell me to stop," he pauses against your lips, but his hands never leave your body, fingers skimming the curve of your waist.

You shake your head. "I don’t want you to."

That’s all he needs.

In one swift motion, his hands slide to your thighs, lifting you with ease. A surprised gasp leaves your lips, but you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carries you across the room. His lips never leave yours.

He reaches the edge of the bed, lowering you onto the plush mattress without breaking contact. His body hovers over yours, propped up on his forearms, his dark eyes searching yours.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he admits, edged with impatience.

You let out a soft laugh, running your fingers through his hair, your own breath coming just as fast. "Then why did we wait?"

Jungkook exhales sharply, shaking his head. "Because I knew, once I had you like this��� I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it."

His words send a thrill through you, but before you can respond, he kisses you again. His hands trace gentle patterns against your skin, grounding you, making you feel every ounce of emotion behind his touch.

His fingers move deftly, swiftly, but there’s a bit of anxiety behind his touch. He kisses down your neck, to your collarbone… pushing aside your shirt to your shoulder. His knee digs into your thigh, and you feel fuzzy from how much he was touching you everywhere. You let out small whimpers, eager for him to continue, to know what it feels like to be one of his girls.

He looks down at you, eyes dark. If he wasn’t your best friend, you would’ve been scared.

His fingers ghost down your chest, to your stomach, playing with the hem of your shirt, asking for permission. He doesn’t have to, because you’re propping yourself up and taking it off for him, just leaving your bra out on display. He pauses, takes a moment for himself, realizes he isn’t in a dream when he reaches out and touches one of your tits. It’s like he’s a prepubescent little boy again who has never seen these before.

“God, you’re perfect,” he mumbles, feeling you through your bra. He moves the bra aside a little, sees the hard nipple poking through and removes your entire bra, one hand. He peels off his shirt, revealing his toned abdomen underneath and that tattoo sleeve he started working on two years ago.

You don’t know when you became such a withering mess underneath his touch but you’re glued down to the bed, imprinted on the mattress.

Jimin will have to come peel you off tomorrow morning.

“Touch me again,” you whisper out, low enough for him to hear and for his cock to twitch in his pants.

He looks back up at you, taking his attention away from your chest. There’s a shift, a change of massive proportions in the air. You know he’s experienced. Everyone knows it. He’s had countless girlfriends, hookups with other friends… you’ve heard the rumors spread like wildfire.

When he speaks, his voice sounds almost pensive. “Has anybody ever made you cum?”

The sound you make is much too close to a whimper for your own comfort. Involuntarily, you feel a flutter down there, and you realize faintly just how wet you really are, all from some stupid kisses.

You don’t need to look at him to know that he’s noticed your reaction.

“I—uh,” You’re utterly and totally speechless.

The answer is no.

None of your boyfriends ever figured it out truly. It’s not like they were studs in the bedroom. So, you would fake it, kiss them goodnight, and go finger yourself in the bathroom to get off. You somehow have a very strong intuition you won’t need to do that with Jungkook. “No, not really.”

His gaze becomes darker, pauses and thinks of his next move. He pushes you back onto the mattress, making room for himself to painstakingly move in between your legs. Jungkook lifts your skirt up, revealing your lacy pink panties that have a wet spot engrained right in the middle. “Fucking hell, you’re soaked,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

He looks back at you. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

He can’t be serious. The blood rushes from your face down to your toes.

“P-please,” You whimper, tugging your bottom lip underneath your top lip. “Please, Kook.”

“I can’t believe no one’s ever appreciated this pussy,” You can’t tell if he’s speaking mostly to himself as he takes off your skirt fully, letting it fall on the floor with a soft thump. “You are so beautiful, [Y/N]. I’ve been dreaming about this for months, years.”

You just nod in response, since that’s all you can muster as he drags the pink underwear off your thighs, down your ankles, off your being. You want him to make you cum, want him to be the reason you feel immense pleasure.

He’s still babbling to himself, something about how he’s going to wreck you tonight and all that, and then you feel his tongue flatten out on you, making a circular motion on your clit.

Your pornographic moan can probably be heard across the entire campus. Your whole body jolts alive, eyes squeezed so, so tight as he works his tongue repeatedly over your clit, lapping up every ounce of your wetness he can.

Your hand reaches out to grasp at something, anything, clutching his hair and holding his head as his tongue rolls around in between your clit and your entrance. His nose bumps against your clit as your hips began to rock up and down, your body aching for more, anything he can provide, you would take it.

“Jungkook,” You breathe out, followed by a string of profanities and moans. He seems to be pleased by your reaction, arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling your legs around his head, practically suffocating himself with you.

“F-fuck, how are y-you so good at this?” Your back arches off the mattresss, vision blurry as he continues his assault on your clit. He’s so lost in it, so deep in it, he could barely respond.

He pulls away for a second, looking up at you with his big eyes, lips glossy and covered in your slick. You watch as he gathers some saliva in his mouth, spitting it onto your clit and letting his tattooed fingers rub your bundle of nerves.

“Oh my god.” That elicits another expressive string of words, your chest heaving as you teeter closer and closer to that edge.

You still can’t believe this is happening; your best friend of over a decade, eating you out like you were a five-course meal.

He envelops his lips around your delicate bud and pulls, and you can hardly contain yourself, fingers darting to his locks, the sheets, your abdomen. You can't sit still, can't halt the convulsions, losing all sense of self over your own body. Every which way, on him and off him, thoughts in turmoil and emotions in chaos and sensations askew, and you can't fathom how nobody's ever subjected you to this before, and how have you managed to live without the sensation of Jungkook's lips on your pussy.

His fingers replace his mouth again, this time, splitting you open with two fingers that glide right in with how overly soaked you are. “Gonna make you cum so good, princess,” he says. “Gonna make you forget any of those assholes before me.”

He has to realize that won’t take much convincing. You’ve already forgotten what any other man looks like.

As his lips reconnect with your burning core, all inhibitions vanish. He darts his tongue in and out, in and out, in and… your eyes roll back in ecstasy, your legs straining to offer him greater access, even to the point of discomfort when your muscles protest, but you crave him closer, and you're drowning in longing, aching with it.

The only anchors keeping you grounded are his hands, the one hand that has wandered from your clit to fondle your tit, the other that is now relentlessly pumping in and out of you.

He's cautious, nearly tender, but it's futile; you're soaked, allowing him continuous entry of his fingers without any struggle, devoid of any tension in your muscles. You're incapable of tightening up even if you wanted to.

“I-I, fuck, Kook, I’m gonna cum,” You whine out in a tone that’s half begging, half delirium. You’re not even sure your body’s in control of itself anymore, you just wriggle and thrash around as he works you to finish.

“Yeah?” He speaks against your clit, breath fanning against you. His fingers continue to pump in and out of you, his other hand rubbing incessant circles on your clit. It was all too much, far, far, too much. “Fuck, I want you to cum for me. Want to taste you, taste what I’ve been missing all these years.”

It engulfs you completely, resonating within your core, your toes, and your fingertips. It propels you off the bed, leaning forward, fingers clutching his hair, legs quivering uncontrollably, screaming his name over and over like a prayer.

It seems to go on for hours, his fingers penetrating you through it, his tongue caressing, and all thoughts dissipate under the onslaught of that blinding, electrifying pleasure.

Jungkook persists, relentless, until you thrust his head away with vigor, overwhelmed by the sensation to the point of pain erupting like tiny needles.

You have absolutely no idea how any girl ever let him get away, but you make a mental note that he will never leave your sight.

He leans over you, hovering over your shaking body. His head bows down, pressing a kiss on your lips, and you taste yourself for the first time. It’s a mix of him and you, salty and sweet and warm and dirty. You want it, again and again and again..

But you want him to feel good too. Want to do right by him, make him yours officially, have him scream out your name.

You pull away from his kiss, wiggling yourself out from under him. With a surprising amount of strength you muster up, you flip the two of you; you’re straddling him, thighs locked on either side of his toned abs. His eyebrows raise, lips still slick and swollen with your juices and saliva and you’re pretty certain you’ll have a stroke if you keep looking at him.

You’re still dripping onto his bare chest, abs now covered in you as well. Probably the second hottest thing you’ve seen so far.

You lean down, kissing him, fighting for some sort of reprieve. You kiss down his jaw, his neck, and his little whimpers send you to a different planet.

He’s just so vocal, and now you can’t get enough.

“Let me ride you,” you say.

He deadpans. Was he hearing that right?

“Please,” you plead. “I just… I want to make you feel good, Kookie. Like you did for me. Wanna make you happy.”

He smirks, rubbing his warm hands against your thighs, “I’m already happy just like this.”

And he’s right — his cock is rock-hard and honestly, he hasn’t ever been like this before with any of his past girls. It’s because it’s you, the girl he calls his best friend who used to be the quiet, shy one, who is now asking him to let her ride his cock.

“Pleaseeee..” you moan, shuffling your body downwards so your clit is directly above his Calvin Klein boxers, grinding on him slowly like this is a middle school party. You don’t even know when he had taken off his jeans from earlier, you assume it was during the time his face was buried in your cunt.

He plays around with his lip ring, his nervous tic. “Fuck, yeah, baby just go for it. Show me how you ride your best friend.”

You pull back to finally get rid of his boxers, to finally see what’s underneath, if the rumors rang true.

You look down at his cock, splayed across his lower abdomen, open your mouth to speak and… pause.

“Jungkook,” you begin, eyes widened, half horror and half excitement, “I-you’re so… big.”

And the moment you say the words, you regret them. His ego is about to inflate to the size of Jimin’s entire house. He looks up at you through hooded eyes, licking his lips, “Yeah? You gonna take it, baby?”

The pet name makes you shudder. “I-I can try,” You stutter. “I’ve never been with someone this big before.”

He chuckles, his hands coming around to rest on your hips, rubbing circles with the pads of his thumb. You know very well he knows how many guys you’ve been with, how many people you’ve fucked, but never their dick size. Didn’t really come up. But, this… well, this was going to be a challenge.

“It’s okay, baby,” he coaxes, “How about you be a good girl for me and start off slow?”

You want to be his good girl more than anything in the entire world.

You can’t even answer, can’t do anything, because he begins to align his cock to your sopping entrance, pushing inside of you.

It’s excruciating, it’s slow, it’s almost impossible to understand how he’s splitting you in half. Jungkook’s head falls back, face scrunched up in pleasure, jaw hanging open.

The slide feels almost endless, like you’ll never reach the hilt of his cock. There’s an endless cycle of Jungkook’s voice spilling endless praise for you taking him so well, that he’s almost all inside, that you already look so full, that he’s never letting you go.

And then finally, when you’re about to tap out and let him get on top, you feel your clit pressed against his pubic bone and your body feels so entirely filled.

You both let out a simultaneous moan; one that you’re certain everyone downstairs heard and is getting ready to come upstairs and bang pots and pans at the door.

“I…” Your body gives out a little, and you lean backwards on your palms, giving him a better view of how irresistible you look with his cock so deep inside of you.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand travels to your clit, rubbing circles, “So damn tight, huh? No one’s fucked you like this in a while.”

All you can do is nod.

The sounds are obscene. His cock plunging into your wetness with each bounce of your knees, the headboard slamming against the walls, your own whimpers, Jungkook’s groans.

You know they can hear you. And you don’t care. Not one bit. In fact, you want it.

You fall forward a little, gripping onto his chest and dig your fingernails into him. You can’t even think, breathe, can’t remember the last time something has ever felt this ethereal.

Your head lulls backwards, fingernails so deep in his skin you’re leaving bruises. Jungkook grips onto your hips, pads of his thumbs imprinting themselves on your skin. You’re certain he must be pussy drunk or something, because the only things leaving his mouth are blabbers, “… fuck, you are so tight and wet.. fucking beautiful, my best girl so good, need you so bad, always..”

Your hips continue to undulate wildly, and you don’t even know where the confidence is coming from but you feel like some fucking goddess riding this man into oblivion.

And you recognize it, he’s so close, his face is contorted, chest heaving, eyes squeezed so tight, committing the feeling of you riding him to memory..

But you never get to see that orgasm (yet) because you hear the door swing open. Jungkook sits up, eyes wide, looking between you and your intruder. But you’re too in deep, too into it to stop, too close, too needy… who gives a fuck if Taehyung or even Jimin sees?

He looks back at you, face flushed with an expression you can’t recognize. You toss your head back, and then learn pretty quickly why he looks like that.

You catch a glimpse of Seo-yeon’s black hair, and when you turn your body, you see her figure standing there in the doorway, watching, observing, a tiny (and you have to look hard) smirk on her face.

“Are you going t-to get the fuck out or what?” Jungkook tries to sound tough, but he’s coming undone closer and closer by the second.

And you don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the fact you’re fucking your best friend, maybe it’s the fact you’re still a little drunk off the punch, maybe you’re just a different person than three hours ago, but you turn back to Jungkook and go, “Let her stay and watch. Let her see how good I fuck you. Let her know you’re fucking mine.”

You can’t see it, but she blinks at the doorway, jaw unhinged and a gulp of saliva slithering like molasses down her throat. “Fuck, baby, you’re going to make me cum,” Jungkook whines out.

“Yeah, you want to cum?” You lean back, giving him full access to your pussy and the way his cock is coated with your juices, dripping onto his abdomen, making a mess everywhere. “Tell her you’re mine. Now.”

You don’t even know if she’s still there, you just want him to say it. Even if it’s just for you.

But, he looks back at her, looks back at her petite frame in the doorway, then back at you. “I’m yours. I’m fucking yours, baby. Forever.”

“Good boy,” You lean your body back into him, press a kiss into his sweaty cheek. You then turn back around to handle her, and it almost makes you want to laugh how she’s now frozen to the wall like you once were. “Now close the fucking door behind you while I finish him off.”

The door slams behind her, but you barely notice or care.

He’s an absolute wreck, singing praises to you and you’re all yeah yeah yeah please please please I’m so close, and he comes undone so fiercely he’s struggling to keep it together, to not collapse. He coats your walls, and you clench around him as you barrel through what might be the most insane orgasm of your life.

There’s a moment where black washes over your vision, jaw ripping open trying to scream his name, or anything remotely in the dictionary, and you’re just putty on top of him as your body shakes and convulses trying to come down.

You fall into him, on top of him rather, hearts struggling to get back to its normal rhythm. He doesn’t want to move, can’t imagine going anywhere in that moment.

You finally move over to his side, nestling into him and you’re positive there’ll be a mold of your body on him tomorrow. He wraps his arm around you, tugging in as close as he possibly could.

For a while, you just lay there like that. You welcome the silence, no longer letting it scare you.

“You know, your mom and mine were plotting on us.”

He’s the first to break through your thoughts. You giggle, tracing circles on his chest, listening to his heart thump thump thump against his ribcage as he keeps talking. “I’ve always loved you. I know that. Well, ever since you gave me that Spider Man plushie when we were 11.”

You can’t deny the shit-eating grin that appears on your face. You’re not about to tell him you fell in love with him before that, probably when he gave you a Hello Kitty bandaid for one of your ‘ouchies’. “Is that so?” You tease.

Into your hair, Jungkook whispers, “Always been mine.”

There’s a wave of something that crashes over you, something you feel deep within you. He’s mine, you think to yourself. And you feel the sudden urge to blink tears away.

You lay there, peacefully, silently, in absolute bliss…

“Ugh, Jungkook! Right there! So fucking good!”

“[Y/N], keep going! Your pussy feels so good! Ahhhh!”

“Jimin! Taehyung!” Jungkook roars, reaching up one arm for the pillow on the bed and flinging it at the door, other arm still wrapped loosely around your shoulders.

“Hey, man! You can’t get mad at me! You just had sex in my fucking bed. You’re doing my laundry for six months!” Jimin’s voice cracks at the realization of you two… in his bed… with god knows what juices splattered. He shudders even imagining it.

“He’s got a point,” Jungkook sighs, running his hand over his face.

You laugh a little, then he does too, and you feel the vibration against your body. There’s only him, only now. And as Jungkook pulls you closer, tucking you into the warmth of his arms, you realize it was supposed to be this easy.

You pulled yourself off the wall. And for the first time, it didn’t feel scary. It felt like you belonged.

masterlist + request

[jinxyjinxer]

˗ˏˋ MEALTIME ˎˊ˗ how they give head

⟢ characters : Ambessa Medarda, Caitlyn Kiramman, Ekko, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Sevika, Silco, Vander, Vi, Viktor

⟢ warnings : non-specified genitals, head (reader receiving), possible wlw and mlm

˗ˏˋ STARVED ˎˊ˗

They give head as if it was their last time doing so. They're sloppy, getting you and whatever surface is underneath you two wet. Not only that, but they do not fear of getting too messy, in fact it turns them on even more. They'll eat you so long until they're satisfied, often leaving you overstimulated and sore afterwards.

⟢ Jayce Talis, Silco, Sevika, Vi, Vander, Viktor

˗ˏˋ TEASINGLY ˎˊ˗

They're a tease and probably have some sadistic tendencies. Whenever they find themselves having your privates in their face, they can't help but do everything to make you when and beg for them to finally let you finish. And if that wasn't enough, they take great pride in seeing you cry from frustration, even getting turned on by the hot liquid rolling down your cheeks.

⟢ Ambessa Medarda, Caitlyn Kiramman, Sevika, Silco

˗ˏˋ GENTLE ˎˊ˗

For them, giving you head is solely there to pleasure your needs instead of their own. Which doesn't mean they don't enjoy themselves of course, in fact they find seeing your pleasure contorted face arousing, knowing it's them who gives you all this pleasure and not someone else.

⟢ Ekko, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Vander, Vi, Viktor

[luna-azzurra]

Vibes for Characters #3

Who Wear a Mask So Well, They’ve Forgotten Their Real Face

(The ones who are always what other people need and don’t know how to be anything else)

⛧ Mirrors the energy of whoever they’re talking to. You like jokes? They’re funny. You want quiet? They’re calm. You want deep? They’ve got metaphors. ⛧ Looks in the mirror and always thinks something feels… off. Like they’re wearing skin that isn’t quite theirs. ⛧ Doesn’t have favorite things, only the ones that make other people smile. ⛧ Says “no worries!” while bleeding out emotionally behind their back. ⛧ Knows exactly what to say to make someone feel seen, but has no idea how to ask for that in return. ⛧ When alone, they go silent. Like the absence of an audience erases the performance—and there’s nothing left. ⛧ Changes tone, style, even posture depending on who they’re with. ⛧ Has friends in every circle, but no one they call at 2am. ⛧ Desperately wants someone to look past the glitter and say: “You don’t have to do that. You’re allowed to just be.” ⛧ Tells stories like they’re happening to someone else. ⛧ Always “fine.” Always helpful. Always on. Until they’re not. ⛧ Has a dream version of themselves they only let exist in daydreams. Somewhere where they’re messy, soft, real and still loved.

Who Would Die for Everyone but Don’t Think Anyone Would Mourn Them

(aka the quiet martyrs, the ones who love big but feel forgettable)

⛧ Always offering to help. Always the one who stays behind to clean up. ⛧ Doesn't ask for favors—not because they don’t need them, but because they don’t believe they’re allowed to take up that kind of space. ⛧ When someone thanks them, they brush it off with “It was nothing.” ⛧ Treats their own pain like a footnote. (Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.) ⛧ You could compliment them, and they’d smile, but their eyes would still say Why are you being so nice to me? ⛧ Constantly afraid of being annoying, even when they’ve barely spoken. ⛧ Hides their breakdowns by being “the responsible one.” Always smiling, always functional, quietly unraveling. ⛧ Finds comfort in tasks. Dishes. Errands. Anything that gives them purpose. ⛧ Would take a bullet for you and apologize for bleeding on your shirt. ⛧ Thinks no one really knows them, but blames themselves for that. ⛧ Their phone background is a quote that hurts. (“You are enough” makes them cry a little in the dark.) ⛧ If someone did tell them they matter, they’d cry, and then probably never believe it again.

Who Are So Emotionally Numb, They Don’t Realize They’re Already Breaking

(For when burnout becomes a personality trait and disassociation is just Tuesday)

⛧ Says “I don’t care” a lot. Usually means “I can’t afford to.” ⛧ Lives in a weird fog, can’t remember what they had for lunch or what day it is, but somehow still functioning. ⛧ Never first to speak in a group. Often doesn’t speak at all unless directly asked something. ⛧ Laughs at the right times. Smiles when expected. You wouldn’t know anything was wrong unless you really looked. ⛧ Hasn’t cried in a long time. Not because they’re fine, because they forgot how. ⛧ Avoids mirrors. They don’t recognize the person looking back. ⛧ Can’t get excited about anything anymore, but keeps pretending like they can. ⛧ Keeps busy to outrun the numbness. Lists, routines, always moving. ⛧ Their sleep is either 12 hours or none at all. No in-between. ⛧ Gets caught staring at nothing, often. Blames it on “spacing out.” They’re not. ⛧ Doesn’t think about the future. The idea of hope is exhausting. ⛧ Still shows up. Still tries. That might be the most heartbreaking thing of all.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Wearing their jackets (slasher edition)

I need to write slasher stuff more.... I also need to watch scream like I said I would... and other films... but alas cotl rot is too strong

Characters: Jason, brahms, bubba, Thomas, Michael

Notes: reader is gn, cold weather baby!!, in Michael's bit yoy wear his coveralls because he refuses to throw a jacket over it

CWs: none

JASON

Built like a polar bear, he's so used to the cold that he just shrugs it off as he goes into the woods to get fire wood for you

Actually offers his jacket to you until he can get a fire started to keep you warm- he doesn't want you to get sick! Don't worry about him! Especially if this is zombie Jason, the cold doesn't really.. effect his undead body that much...

Doesn't mind it if you steal his jacket from him, he takes it as you being cold- but if you explain that it's partly because you miss him he feels.. bad.. he didn't mean to take so long in the woods he promises

Even if you said it jokingly he's going to do his best to make up for his brief absence

BUBBA

let me tell you, as someone who lives in texas: the winters get brutal. Incredibly cold, he's definitely got at least one coat somewhere... and even if he only had one he would let you take it

But... please stay close to him by the heater, he knows you probably want to go do something else with him but it's truly too cold to not be able to do much else without freezing in their old house- even worse if this takes place in their new home in the second film... underground

He thinks you look really cute in his coat and he tries to let you know that- hes... a little bashful but you think it's sweet

You both probably end up cuddling into one another under the coat together

THOMAS

Once more: texas gets incredibly cold in the winter depending on the time of year and where you are. He's got a coat somewhere

Not that that he really uses it, built like a polar bear like Jason. He tolerates cold pretty well, hardly seems phased by it.. he's so laser focused on his chores and work around the house that you often find him still working outside

And he's given his coat to you because you have a lower tolerance than him... maybe you can convince him to come snuggle with you under it? Maybe? He'd hate to leave his chores unfinished but he doesn't like saying no to you

Very heavy coat, very thick

MICHAEL

Completely unphased by the cold, he also doesn't have a jacket. The best you can do is take his coveralls when you FINALLY convince him to take them off so they can be washed

Does not like sharing his things, the likelihood of him humoring you after you put them in is low. May actually take them off of you himself... not incredibly rough but there's intention to yoink them back

If you're cold then go get a blanket or you're own jacket... why steal his things without asking?

It completely flies over his head that jacket (or rather clothing) stealing is common for couples

BRAHMS

Move over give him his sweater back he's FREEZING! If he needs to he's going to wear the sweater with you in it!

HATES the cold and he's going to make it everyone else's problem, please don't let him catch a fever reader! Please!

Fire place? Lit. Blankets? Gathered. Sweaters? Worn. You're more likely to see him leave the walls during the colder months so he can snag your body heat, too

Lets it go to his head if you let slip that you stole his sweater because you missed him... hes basically hovering over now- well, more than he did before

[dazedantics]

It's that damn sweater.

You don't know what it is or why, but something about that guy wearing it, with that stupid yellow button up underneath, and those dumbass khakis, it does something to you.

And he rarely wears anything different. His closet is probably full of ten times the same outfit like some cartoon character.

It was stupid.

You hardly knew the guy!

But everytime he walked into class, you couldn't take your eyes off him. Thankfully you sat behind him so he couldn't see your ogling. But he could feel it. Always turning his head and looking around but finding no culprit.

You had to make your staring discreet though. From him, yeah. But if anyone else saw you looking at the geek so fascinated-like? You'd be the new laughing stock!

I mean, seriously! The guy has a whole lunch table to himself cause no one wants to be around him! And you know how full every other table gets, random people squeezing in next to each other just for a moment to eat. Even the loners get more acknowledgement than him!

You think he has like, maybe, one friend? William? Though he is pretty well liked despite the company he keeps.

Maybe he feels obligated to stay with him. Some childhood thing, like their moms being too close so it'd be awkward if they didn't talk to each other. That had to be it. No way someone would willing be that guy's friend.

There were other guys who wore similar outfits, but it looked even more ridiculous on them! What made that guy so different?

Maybe it was the specific brand his clothes came from. Or maybe he just picked colors that suited him better. Did he know color theory? A nerd like him, probably. He probably spent a whole afternoon worrying over subtle psychological ways to get people like him, desperate to get away from the loser placard that stuck to him since elementary school. Yeah, he seemed the type to care what people thought of him.

Couldn't be anything deeper like maybe you though he was way cute.

Definitely not that.

Cause you do see him outside of school often. Not cause you hang out or anything, he's not even free during those times you see him. No, it's cause you like to hang around at Burger Mart after school until someone can come pick you up.

He's there working. In his dumb little apron, with his dumb little hat, with a big dumb smile on his face, with that stupid little name tag that reads "Mark." And he has the audacity to be the one bringing you your meal. Calling out your number and handing you your grease stained paper bag. Fingers brushing yours as you take it. Giving you that stupid little nervous smile, trying to make conversation before he has to get through everyone else's orders. Isn't he the garbage boy or something? Why does he have to be the one you see everyday?

You spend a long time avoiding him before you finally crack.

You start sitting down at his table at lunch, chatting more with William and paying hardly any attention to him. You start leaning against his locker, waiting for him to get to school, just offhandedly telling him about how boring classes were the previous day. You start waiting for him to get off his shift so you two could head home (which takes a very long time, sitting back in the creaky old booths). You start helping him with his homework, noticing how he rarely does it on his own, choosing to partner with him on projects of your own volition.

And for whatever reason, he starts getting bullied less. At least, not when you can see him. Maybe people are just shocked. Maybe your presence alone has helped promote him out of the loser bin.

Or maybe you've been demoted to his level. Just on a less damning scale.

People never really ask why you started hanging around him though. Which is good for you, cause you wouldn't know how to answer them.

Eventually, you get close enough to start getting invited to his house. And the first thing you're tempted to do is check his closet to see if he has more of the same dumb sweater laying around. But you don't, cause you know you at least have to try and show you have decent respect for others.

One day though, you crack again.

It's dark, the little light on his desk providing a soft yellow glow. He's standing by his shelf, explaining who knows what about his comic collection with that big dumb smile on his face. You're not really hearing him though, zoning out as you focus on scanning him head to toe, sitting back on his bed with your legs crossed.

Then, you grab him.

Grab him by the stupid little collar on that stupid little sweater and pull him down over you. He's panicked, dropping his book to hold himself above you with both hands braced on either side of your head. You can practically hear the jackrabbiting of his heart.

He says your name quietly, wondering what you're doing.

And you start complaining to him about his damn sweater, brow curled and finger absentmindedly tracing small patterns across his chest.

You don't feel particularly nervous or excited. Oddly calm, though your voice comes out as annoyed.

Then you start going on about who knows what and he asks if you're planning to let go of him any time soon.

You pause.

His warm brown eyes seem softer than ever.

And you half expect one of his parents to walk into the room, mortified by your suggestive position.

But they don't.

You can hear the slow ticking of the clock in the corner.

And you're not sure what overcomes you. But looking up at him, that dumb sweater just so soft beneath your fingers, his big nervous smile suddenly not so dumb anymore ...

You kiss him ...

And, somehow, that guy suddenly isn't just that guy anymore.

[married-to-google-translater]

Imagine accidenatlly calling the twist characters an endearment (ex, darling dear, my everything, baby, honey, etc.) because your too sleep deprived to notice it, but they did! How’d they react?

This is now for dorm leaders~

First years are here

Malleus would start planning marriage~ The words would have a deep meaning and Malleus would not believe that you would say such things if there was no truth in them... Poor dragon loves you a lot and only wants you as his own. You don't need to know about his plans yet. Malleus knows how to be patient when he wants to.

Azul would try his best not to show how much your simple words affect him. His success would be somewhat doubtful. Azul would blush but try to cover it up. Another boy who never got enough love. Azul would like to hear this more often... Maybe he should make a deal for that :3

^ I writed this one after Riddle lol. That's why I said "another".

Leona wouldn't pay much attention to this. He knows you only said that because you were too tired. His plan was to go back to sleep after this. However, he can't sleep. Leona has a warm feeling in his chest and can only think about that moment.

Riddle would turn completely red at your words. He would be a bit shocked how you could say something like that so lightly. This boy hasn't gotten enough love. He'd be a little disappointed when he realized you didn't really mean those words... but maybe sometimes you do.

Kalim would smile and say something nice back to you. He's already in a good mood but this makes his day better~ However, Kalim would also be worried. Why can't you sleep? If you need help, he would be happy to help. You can just come to Sacrabia dormitory and you don't have to worry about anything.

Vil would say something sweet to you back~ Probably a potato-related compliment. Now, however, he would be worried about how little you slept. This would not be a good thing. You get a lecture about how sleep is important for skin care, etc. He just doesn't want you saying things like that to someone else.

Idia would die of a sudden nosebleed. He'd be lucky you weren't there to see this. However, you might wonder why he leaved voice chat so quickly. It would take Idia a long time to gather herself and her thoughts. After that, he would come back as if nothing had happened and wish you would say those words again sometime.

[innerfare]

Fingering You - Part 1 

Summary: you already know from the title

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // fingering, bondage, mentions of oral sex, penetrative sex, and slight anal, mentions of creampies, dirty talk, Daddy Zoro, Mean Dom Kid

——— 

Luffy: 

The hardest part about fingering you is not going down on you. It’s quite rare that he sticks his fingers between your legs without lapping at your folds mere seconds later. But on the occasions he does simply finger you, it’s to tease you. There’s a part of you that’s always hoping this side of Luffy doesn’t come out, and there’s another part of you that’s always hoping it does, the side that throws you on the bed, ties you up face down, and slides his finger up and down your aching cunt, from clit to ass, telling you how his favorite thing in the world is when you cum but refusing to let you do so, only ever slipping one finger inside you at a time and always pulling it out when you start to clench around him. When Luffy decides to finger you, it’s a long night. 

Zoro: 

Daddy Zoro fingers you for your own good. At least, that’s what he tells you. He’ll never admit that sticking just his pinky finger into your little hole and feeling the tightness around his smallest digit makes his cock throb harder than it ever has before. He’ll never admit it’s the first thing he thinks about in the morning, before even thinking about getting himself off. He’ll definitely never admit that he now gets hard when he eats and gets sauce on his fingers because it reminds him of your desperate princess cunt. He’ll only ever tell you it’s for your own good. How else is his fat cock going to fit inside you? And if his cock is inside of you, his fingers might just wind up in your mouth. Probably his favorite thing about fingering you is the way he can use his fingers to push his bodily fluids, be it spit or semen, inside of you. 

Sanji: 

He’s the absolute best at fingering you, hands down. He’s almost religious in the way he goes about it, too. After all, his hands are precious to him, and so is your pussy. Putting the two together is a spiritual experience as far as he’s concerned. He takes it very seriously, always making sure whatever door the two of you are behind is locked, and taking plenty of time to kiss you like you deserve and worshipping your tits. He can work you to the brink of orgasm just by playing with your nipples, though he’s never content just to do that. The first time he slipped his hand into your panties, he came in his pants, and though he’s managed to build up a resistance since then, there’s still nothing better than sliding his fingers into your cunt and feeling you melt into him, especially considering he can focus solely on your pleasure when he does. 

Ace: 

Fire Fist Ace has one filthy mouth. Everyone knows it. Even for a pirate, he’s notorious. When the Whitebeard Pirates make port, the girls are always gossiping about what the handsome young pirate said to them after a bottle of sake and some heavy kisses. But only you know the true depths of it. He’s always throwing his weight around, pinning you against a wall or down on the mattress, crowing you with those broad shoulders and that big chest, pushing your legs apart and shoving first one, then two long, thick fingers into your tight pussy, his hot lips on your ear the entire time telling you that your pussy is his, that he’s the only one who gets to touch your cute little clit, that when he makes you cum (and he most certainly will), you’re going to get on your knees and thank him properly. And that you do, night after night, the two of you always fucking for the final round (or two). 

Sabo: 

How many times has he slipped his hands under your skirt and gotten you off when there’s someone nearby or within earshot? Neither of you have any idea because it happens so often. He pushes two fingers right into you and thumbs your clit every time, working an orgasm out of you like it’s nothing, biting his lip as he studies the flush that appears on your face and often brushing you off if you try to reciprocate the pleasure. He always grins when you give him that panicked look that says you’re about to cum and you’re worried someone might hear, his favorite part being the way you hang onto him as you do as if he’s going to protect you. The way you cling to him afterwards as you recover from your orgasm only makes it so much better for him. He’ll never stop doing it. 

Law: 

He actually didn’t have a lot of experience when you two first started fooling around, but he his hands were always one area where he felt exceedingly confident. It came naturally to him, rubbing you through your panties until your wetness was soaking through, pushing the fabric to the side to stroke your warm folds, sliding his fingers into your tight hole and promising it’ll be his cock next. It’s like second nature to him, to the point he’ll start doing it without fully realizing. If you sit in his lap, his hands will start creeping up your thighs, and the next thing you know, you’re tossing your head back and holding on for dear life while he fingers you with one hand and squeezes your tits with the other. He gets off to the sense of control it gives him, relishing how he can make you squirm with just a stroke of his thumb and the way you squeal when he jams a finger up your ass. 

Kid: 

Honestly, you need to stop whining. He’s doing you a favor. Yes, somebody might see you completely naked and exposed (he’s still completely clothed, of course) on the deck of the Victoria Punk in broad daylight. And yeah, it’s embarrassing how wet you are, so embarrassing he doesn’t even stop you from hiding your face. But he’s doing you a favor by stuffing his thick fingers in your cunt, stretching you like a cock (a regular sized cock, at least, not a Eustass Kid sized one). He doesn’t even touch your clit until you’re on the brink, and then he thumbs it mercilessly. And don’t think for a second your mean dom boyfriend won’t laugh at you when he pulls his fingers out and finds them coated in your cream, telling you that if you’re that desperate you should follow him back to his cabin to get fucked properly. You don’t hesitate to do it, trailing after him like a puppy. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!