#omfg find your thing does NOT mean what I thought it meant

[that-willowtree]

LOOKING FOR A SONG!!

tumblr I need help. YALL im legitimately abt to tweak out bc I’ve been trying to find this song that I heard on an edit but I can’t find the audio or the edit anymore and I rly rly rly want to find the song but there are no lyrics so if anyone knows what song this is PLSSS lmk

Things I remember

(I only heard like 20 seconds of the song at most so the other parts might have lyrics)

1 it was a jayvik edit, started with the scene with Jayce where he’s like “Viktor saved my life once, now he’s dying and there’s nothing I can do”

2 it was rly like softly emotional and sweet, lots of scenes of them

3 there was like this drum beat in the background

4 there was also what sounded like piano

5 there was like a chorus of “ohhhhh”s and it was like long and drawn out but super pretty (I think it was a guys voice)

I might be able to find the video compilation I saw it in and get an audio recording so maybe someone can identify it 😭

[n3ptoonz]

mk1 dialogues with the outworld guys!

a/n: only some characters will have flirtatious lines, while others i can't stand so they WILL get made fun of (i'm looking at you shao.)

i get reiko has fans, so i pander A LIL BIT🙄i can't with havik tho im sorry i didn't grow up w his character so 🧍🏾‍♀️

for syzoth reader is a demon that can shapeshift cause he clearly got a type (ashrah is so freaking pretty)

enjoy ;p

Rain

you: i like wizards

rain: i don't like being called a "wizard"

rain: you couldn't handle the son of a god.

you: if you mean in a fight, probably not, otherwise, absolutely

you: i don't mind getting a little wet from rain

rain: you earthrealmers sure are painstakingly persistent.

rain: i would never court a commoner.

you: you won't be saying that after this match, i guarantee it (wink sound effect).

Reptile

syzoth: if you're from the netherrealm...do you work for quan chi?

you: when i was brain washed yes, now i am reformed and seek redemption

you: do not be afraid, i am kin to ashrah and share her ideologies

syzoth: never thought i would meet so many demons in this life

syzoth: you see what you like? i mean like you- see-

you: demon got your tongue?

you: i find you adorable in both forms, syzoth

syzoth: hey, that's my line!

Shang Tsung

shang tsung: how could I bring harm to such a fine specimen?

you: the same way i'm about to

you: stop flirting with me, sorcerer

shang tsung: not until you consider my offer of ruling the realms by my side

shang tsung: i wouldn't fight me if i were you, i could split your body into eighths

you: tough talk from a man with a silk press

you: you wanna kiss me so bad

shang tsung: kiss, kill, life is all about wonder

Reiko

reiko: you dare poke fun at the ways of an Outworld warrior?

you: uh, you should've seen how you looked shadow boxing at Raiden, I had to laugh

you: come here often?

reiko: wha- you came to my house!

reiko: you just won't quit, will you?

you: there's just something about meatheads that do the trick

you: kiss me, k-k-kiss me, infe-

reiko: it was ONE drunk night!

General Shao

you: just big and greedy

shao: careful, kung lao might overhear you.

shao: ha! you think your puny little self could win against me?

you: you were bested by a farm boy with a sleeper build. nothing about you scares me

you: reiko did not get his looks from his father

shao: soon you won't live long enough to compare!

shao: if i win, you serve as my consort

you: you actually have to have power first to have such imagination

Baraka

baraka: your flesh smells amazing.

you: thanks, new fragrance I made mys- oh you meant as food.

you: so like, does your mouth ever get dry?

baraka: that is the stupidest question i've ever been asked since my affliction

baraka: every day i wake up in aguish.

you: i asked you what time it was...

you: i would ask you to dinner, but you'd run straight for the civilians

baraka: i cannot help what i've become- wait, ask me to dinner?!

Havik

you: what in the actual fu-

havik: continue and you won't be having a mouth either!

havik: why are you looking at me like that?!

you: i'm trying to figure out just how the hell you and baraka pronounce your M's and P's

you: impressive you didn't die from getting a face full of lava

havik: it's probably the only thing liu kang did right!

havik: don't tell me to relax! i lost half my face!

you: hey, you could chill on the whole realm domination and killing a god thing, just saying

--

a/n: this was so hard to write omfg i don't even like half this list😭let me know if y'all want kameo dialogues either in comments or ask box

[milquetoastmews]

okay I’ve seen you posting about wuthering heights and this is your invitation (if you want one) to yap and share your thoughts about it. i read it a few years back and i honestly… despised it? and i feel like i’m missing something bc like. i regularly read classics. i love engaging with a story’s themes. but something just didn’t click for me, and i’m left feeling bewildered about why people love it. and none of this is judgement on you, i just genuinely feel like i’m missing something, so if you want to yap about it please enlighten me 🖤

so sorry it took me 4evr to respond 2 this omfg

I am literally never not in the mood to talk about wuthering heights!!!!

first things first, I read it over 3 yrs ago so I don't remember allllll the specifics (tho I have been feeling the itch to reread it......)

but from what I can remember (!) here's what I love abt it:

its so immersive! at least, it was for me. I had honestly forgotten that these things had even happened specifically, but I went back and read my goodreads review of it and I mention dreaming about the story and how after I finished it I sat on my bed for an hour doing absolutely nothing, because what was I meant to do? the world I had been living in had just dissipated before my eyes. I had trouble moving on after finishing wuthering heights; I would want to read but couldn't bring myself to pick up another book because that meant fully exiting its world. even though I don’t remember the contents of the dream or sitting on my bed, the feeling I had when reading wuthering heights still comes back to me whenever I think/talk abt it. its hard to put a finger on exactly what that feeling is but I can very distinctly identify it as wuthering heights.

its just so gothic. I lovelovelove gothicism. I love that wuthering heights is gothic in every possible way. theres ghosts and haunted manors and impassioned declarations and tragic ends and violent displays of love (more on this in the next point)

ever since I had to read love in the time of cholera for my sr yr english class I've been kind of obsessed with the concept of love as a violence. not violence used to desecrate love, but violence as an expression of love itself (probably also why I love hannibal lol). as aforementioned, I'm fascinated w the macabre of life. its just so interesting to see how many horrible actions can be not excused, but genuinely explained by love. love as a source of madness, desperation, desolation will always be one of my fav things to see in media

its not an unrequited love story with heathcliff the incel "nice guys always finish last" character. catherine and heathcliff truly truly love each other. but they r both in tricky spots. heathcliff is a person of color with a diminished social standing and catherine is a woman. these both hinder their options in life. I like that love does not conquer all and they don't end up together and heathcliff goes literally batshit bcos of it (kinda ties into my last point). the love is requited it just... can't be

everyone sucks!!!!! absolutely nothing means more to me than characters that fucking suck. like fr. every character is so different and yet exactly the same in the sense that you cannot morally justify liking one over the other. they are all, objectively, bad people, but at times u can't help but wish something good would happen to them, if only to find out if they would be better were their circumstances more favorable (they wouldn't ofc; most of the time, they just ruin whatever good thing even gets w in their vicinity)

I found the framing rlly interesting, the whole story w in a story thing. the end of the book was established at the beginning (or at least that's the assumption): lockwood comes to the grange and visits the heights and sees that everyone is miserable. so, the story begins: nelly is going to enlighten him as to how everyone at the heights came to be so rude and forlorn. but, that wasn't the end and I liked that. to me, it felt like brontë gave us a map at the beginning of the story and said "you're going to end up here" but once we got to that point, she just kept going. I think that strikes a rlly optimal balance of both direction and surprise. tbh I just rlly admire emily brontë as a writer

I believe thats all I can think of for now? I def have more to say on how, yes, everyone sucks, but the characters r still complex and the historical context surrounding when the book was written and the social commentary that comes along w heathcliff's identity and all that but I'm tired and feel bad its taken me this long to respond anyway!!! but def lmk what fell flat 4 u, I'm always curious to learn other ppls perspectives on books

(also I for sure did not edit or read this over b4 posting so sorry if it is absolutely incomprehensible)

[fatuismooches]

HIHI!!! it’s 1am but i come to you with that fluff thought i promised ya :DD (..and an angst one, it’s okay!! dottore will wipe all of our tears </3 ). i’m sorry if i’m like!! brainrotting too much!! you’re so fun to hear the opinions of, and i love talking about this

dottore with fragile reader would be so soft, i like to imagine he really does put in the effort for those picnic dates that you always talk about. Does it mean carrying you there and making a spot where it’s much warmer rather than the cold unforgiving winter in snezhnaya? having a segment travel all the way to liyue for a snack? yes. it also means kissing your forehead as he extracts blood from you, clutching your hand when he knows you’re nervous, holding you no matter how busy he is. He can have you on his lap while he works, no matter how sick you are- it’s worth it to hear his true assistants thoughts. You’ve always been the most important. (dottore probably does not like the replacement assistants and purposefully makes their jobs harder…or the segments pester them because they love you just as much).

…on the other hand

on that traveler finding fragile reader note…omegatorre deleting all/most of the other segments probably meant it was much much easier for traveler to even get to that area in the first place. normally, the lab and area would be swarmed with dottores, but because of omegatorre- now zandik will have alot less. He can’t put as much energy into creating segments because he’s focused on the cure, but *now* traveler is with who he loves most, and he has to stop them. you’re right!! la signora, childe, etc had someone that drove them to become their worst to protect their memory, futures, etc- you are everything to dottore. you’re everything to zandik. ofcourse traveler has to win somehow, escape somehow, its their story after all- so now all zandik could do, is grab you, run, and fix this.

- 💌

(x) 💌 ANON OMFG I LOVE U… ANGST + FLUFF THE TWO THINGS THAT WILL KILL ME SOME DAY 😭💕💕 dottore + fragile reader lives in our head rent free huh

oH MY GOSH THOUGH THE PICNICS- You’re so right. Fragile! Reader tends to get super nostalgic about their Akademiya days/when they weren’t sick. So a lot of times they daydream about how they use to catnap and tease Zandik under the sun while he just muttered about how “this is a waste of time” (even though he secretly enjoyed it.) And now you just think about how these things are probably never gonna happen again for a long time :( but Dottore and the clones are like. We’re going to make it happen anyway. Since it’s quite difficult for you to leave the lab, makes me think about how once I said he built a specific room for you to emulate the outside world’s scenery. He literally got the same spot you two used to go to replicated for you 🥺 And hehe you’re so right about the clones. Mfs would do anything for you even if it means going halfway across Teyvat for Fried Radish Balls. (They make it back in record speed too😭 and present to you your snack as if it’s worth more than gold)

I just love the idea of Dottore being a genuine doctor with fragile! reader 😭 like it’s funny and cute to think about him doing legitimate doctor things and not the illegal ones. Taking blood - he’s a bit surprised when he finds out you’re kind of scared of that and needles and such. Doesn’t know what to do at first but he decides to just ramble on about his experiments and discoveries (Dottore knows you enjoy it) to distract you and then gives you a little kith and chuckles when you’re surprised it’s over that quickly. (Now im just thinking abt fragile reader running away since they might not like all the shots and medicine he has to give them) Also checking your heartbeat - every time he gets hella smug and cocky because your heart always races so fast when he’s so close to you “Oh? Is everything alright? Your heart is going rather fast… certainly not normal. I wonder, what could be the reason?”

Sitting on Dot’s lap while he does work >>> Even with all the clones he has he still gets stuck checking some boring papers every once in a while, and you just like. Sit on his lap and peer at them curiously. Also bothers him by pulling his little cheeks and kissing them <3 and nod enthusiastically as he discusses science stuff. (No fr all the dottores despise the regular Fatui assistants and some of them have gone missing 💀)

Okay angst… I’ll never get over the clones being deleted im in tears (I pretend I do not see it) Zandik never missed his clones more than in this instance. Sure, they fought a lot and caused problems sometimes. But he knew that nothing would ever happen to you because they would protect you at all times. And now it just so happens that damn Traveler had to come at the worst time possible, when security was low. Of course he knows the Traveler not trust him whatsoever and he doesn’t like them either, so the idea of you being with them alarms him more than he liked to admit.

No one is immune to desire. Not Archons or humans. And you are what he desires and loves wholly, so he won’t let anything hurt you. He may be at a disadvantage, but he is the Second Harbinger for a reason. 

[jinxxedmisery]

I did a quick little sketch (by quick, I mean it took me like 2 hours lol) I still struggle with feet and shoes...

I just saw a pose on pinterest and thought omg, what if Astarion and my tav... but he's biting their thigh 🤭

Ofc, I had to name it.. thirst... and I added the "Happy" symbol to kind of cover a sketch I did on the same page... You know... it wasn't originally supposed to be just one piece, I was practicing poses and I liked this one way too much to just leave it or risk messing up when I redrew it.

This is entirely self indulgent.. and intended to be Spawn Astarion because he's so babygirl 🥰😘😍

🤣 also I don't think I posted but I got through the Cazador fight not too long ago.. and

Spoilers and dumb ramble ahead:

For most of my day, I sat there wondering how the fuck I would beat that bastard... he was one shotting Shadowheart with his fucking lightning bolt, then sending his gas minions after the survivors. Astarion being in the ritual made it 10× more difficult.. so... I cheated... and fuck... It should have been obvious...

I LITERALLY FORGOT FOR THE ENTIRE FUCKING DAY THAT VAMPIRES ARE WEAK TO SUNLIGHT.. I blame Astarion and his parasite as well as Alucard for that one honestly.. the day walker thing kind of made me forget that omfg immunity to daylight is an exception, not the rule..

So I felt stupid.. once I got that, it was so much easier.. oh and almost constantly had Astarion in stealth kill mode until Cazadick was gone.

Also side note.. the VA for Cazador is perfect.. Like they really sells the "I'm a pathetic little worm, and your worst nightmare, fear me while I bitch and cry" LOL and again that's a compliment.. Larian really succeeded in making an evil character extremely grating and hatable which again, a good thing, not a bad thing.

The heartbreak I felt though afterwards when Astarion screams and cries.. God.. the second I got to this scene, I KNEW I couldn't let him ascend, doing so would be so cruel.. and yes.. this is ascended Astarion slander, I don't like my men too domineering.. maybe a little bit, but not enough to like kill innocent children and eat their hands or some shit lmfao (Doing a durge run too.. where I'm going to ascend Astarion and be a horrible bastard that eats babies) and I don't like that he loses the genuine feelings he has for tav/durge and becomes what he sought to destroy, an abuser.

Now.. the graveyard scene... I had tears in my eyes.. Honestly, the reason I love Astarion so much is because he is quite relatable. I will not go into detail, but I was.. SAed and abused as a kid. And honestly.. Seeing the bit where he scratched out his death date, made me feel hope.. for myself... For my own healing.. it truly meant so much seeing another survivor of abuse begin anew, find themselves again... even though I have done that already myself for the most part, I've found purpose, passions, love, heartbreak, etc and I've found some level of beauty in the life. I related quite a lot to the line about sex feeling tainted.. I am at a point where it no longer feels as terrible, I feel genuine enjoyment in it... (Can't do casual sex though.. That would trigger me into a ptsd attack) And I think part of that was letting myself go at my own pace, making sure my partners knew, and having control and the ability to consent and revoke consent at any point. Emotional attachment helped a great deal too.

I've rambled on enough.. but... Let me end this off by saying, If you went through unspeakable horrors at the hands of those who you thought were supposed to protect you, You are not alone, Even if you do not see it now, there is light at the end of the tunnel, keep on living, keep trying to find joy in little things. It does get better, what was done to you was horrible and you did not deserve it. I promise, you will see better days. You will be happy again, even if you feel like the pain will never end, there is always moments of calm.... live for those... live for your pets, live for your friends, the people around you, live for that cute thing you just ordered, live for that movie or TV series you're excited about watching... even the next patch for bg3.. or more Astarion content if that's your reason right now... and take it one day at a time. You will be okay.

If you need to vent out some shit, I'll listen, I may not know what to say or be able to offer comfort, but I will always lend an ear, even to a total stranger if they need it.

That's all from me, goodbye, until my next post.. whenever that will be ❤🖤❤🖤

[delopsia]

darling del 💐💃

have you ever thought about incorporating rendezvous with toys into stories with the trio? a remote or app controlled vibrator with reader, are rhett and robby both controlling it? whose idea was it? i suspect rhett but who knows maybe robby just came back from deployment and was like “hi honey pies...” 😉 omfg maybe both reader AND rhett with toys in while robby controls them? wait i don’t know if rhett could function in public with a toy in... maybe they just keep that to home? and then they could really put him through the ringer 🫢 do robby and reader ever slick up a toy and just let it go inside rhett and sit back and watch their cowboy’s eyes roll all the way back while he cums untouched—or wait is he too sensitive for that? i feel low key feel like he’d actually pass out if reader ran a vibrator over the head of his cock while robby was fucking him... 🤔

*COUGH* does robby ever play with any toys himself with or without his partners?

SLIGHTLY UNRELATED BUT STILL VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION: has reader ever laid rhett and robby down in the same night like (slightly, because cleaning up and aftercare, etc, of course) one after the other? do the two of them have differing dildo preferences for when they want do get fucked?

*whispers* what a weird question to end on but please if this is not what you meant by blurb right now then just ignore; i have the occasional sauce-thought about these three but i never know if, when you say “blurb thoughts please, y’all...” 😌 you mean any blurb thoughts or like, nonsexual character lore blurb thoughts...

omg omg hello lovely! 🌷I'm open to all of the blurb themes, sexual and nonsexual alike, whatever y'all wanna throw at me😔✌

Coincidentally, it works as good practice for me lmao. I'm trying to get better at jumping from theme to theme (so, like, finishing a borderline heart-wrenching blurb to hopping right into one that's going to have the Tumblr overlords striking me down with a mature rating)

waaaah okay, I have more thoughts than I can type 💃

Hear me out; I see your Robby just came back from deployment, and I raise you, Robby leaving for deployment.

His biggest curse with being on that ship is how difficult it can be to find a quiet place to engage in all the playful dirty talk; most of the time, he winds up in the corner of a bathroom stall, headphones snug around his ears, forced to be completely and utterly quiet while Rhett and Reader torment him. Pictures, videos, phone/video calls.

"D'you like the show, Bobby?" Rhett's purring, peering over his shoulder with that darkened gaze, seems to look directly through the camera and into Bob's eyes. Fuck the things he would do to squeeze that cowboy's pretty pale thighs.

The idea hits him about two weeks before his next deployment, brought on while he was shopping around for a replacement strap-on harness. The current one is cute, but lately, it's been leaving some painful indentations on the Reader's hips, and he's on the hunt for something that'll fit nicer. But there, on the front page, is an ad for an app-controlled vibrator, and an idea strikes him.

A few days later, a box is showing up at the door. Whilst Rhett and Reader are asleep, he sets them up on his phone. Runs through the usual deep cleaning and testing to make sure they work before tucking them into the toy stash. Doesn't really mention it until he's officially on the plane, typing out a quick, half-thought-out text.

Left you two a surprise in the toy box :)

It's a couple of weeks before he gets time to use them. It's hard to catch each other when they both have the time and are in the mood. But sooner or later, Bob's found himself in the corner of another bathroom stall, chewing on his bottom lip as he presses a little button on his phone. Knees weakening at the way Rhett's head tips back to thump against the pillow, lips parted with a whine. Has the worst damn time trying to switch to control the Reader's toy; doesn't think it worked until he hears a gasp and watches the camera shake in their hand.

Fuck Bob never lasts longer than a few minutes.

They forget to turn one of them off one night, and Bob jokingly presses a command to see what happens.

Rhett's never been so afraid of a goddamn vibrating box in his life.

It's figured out pretty quickly that Rhett can't function in public with a toy in. He's already bad at most social interactions; a slight brush against his crotch is enough to have him floundering. Quite unfortunate for the exhibitionist kink that's been brewing in him these past couple of years, but they do play around with him around the property. With the house being secluded in the woods, a decent ways away from the nearest neighbor, it's pretty easy for Rhett to wander out back to do some work with a toy in.

Sometimes he does it because he likes the fullness of it, others he's deliberately hoping that Reader or Robby will notice he's got it in. More than once he's found himself braced against that old Oak tree, grunting into the crook of his elbow as Bobby fucks him for all he's worth. And more than once he's wandered into the house, grumbling because nobody caught on to what he wanted, squirming into the Reader's lap and outright begging them to let him ride their strap.

Robby and Reader absolutely could just slick up a toy and let it go inside of their pretty little cowboy, but he's so, so fussy! They've spoiled him, and he's absolutely rotten! He's addicted to the closeness that comes with having them inside of him, thighs against his, holding him for leverage and touching all over. Just a toy is enough to get him off, but he doesn't enjoy it as much if that...makes sense.

He wants the person attached to the dick as much as he wants the dick inside of him.

But he can and will cum untouched with one of them inside of him. They tried cock warming with him once; didn't end well.

Ughhh Rhett would absolutely combust if Reader ran a vibrator over the head of his cock while Robby was fucking him :( The poor thing is so easy to overstimulate, reduced to shivering muscles and teary eyes with a few little tricks. It's so common for him to bury his face in the Reader's belly while Robby's taking him from behind or to snuggle into the crook of the Reader's neck while they fuck him missionary, stifling his little noises and hiding the tears brewing.

Omg omg yes, Robby absolutely plays with toys on himself, too. Maybe not at the frequency of Rhett and Reader, but fuck, he looooooves those small prostate massagers 🤤 it’s one of his favorite toys. He especially loves them when it’s just himself because it’s not quite as good as having an actual strap/cock in him, but he won’t pass up an opportunity to play with them. Though Rhett has recently gotten him hooked on letting them use masturbation sleeves on him.

The Reader has absolutely laid them both down on the same night!! It’s an entire excursion on its own, a lot of work and cleaning and setting up, but Rhett and Bobby are pretty good at kissing up on the other and opening each other up to take the workload off of the Reader. Rhett’s almost always first because he usually gets so turned on from seeing Bob get fucked that he’ll cum from the slightest thing. Really likes getting taken apart first and then getting to have a little show of Bobby dissolving into a puddle of whimpers and cries after the fact.

Bob's got a preference for average/smaller dildos; Rhett's cock is about as much as he can handle, and as wonderfully built as that cowboy is, he's not too fond of the post-sex soreness that comes with it. Something around six inches with a very, very typical girth is enough to make him happy.

Rhett is a goddamn size queen who isn't happy until he's limping the next day. It's so easy to tell his toys apart from Bobby's because they're so much bigger in every sense of the form. Longer, thicker, around eight or nine inches. There's a singular ten-inch toy that comes out to play every once in a blue moon, but he's got to be in a particularly whorish headspace for that one.

The both of them have recently discovered the joy of plugs, for after everything is said and done. Rhett's just a heathen that wants to keep Bob's cum and/or the Reader's cum lube inside of himself for a while, but Bob enjoys the extra minutes of fullness. It really helps him adjust back to the crippling emptiness that comes with having Rhett/the Reader pull out of him.

In the buying process, Rhett's vague requirements were no tails (Bob's been trying to sell Rhett and Reader on bunny tail ones for years. (double parentheses. It's because he already bought them. They're still hiding in the closet, in the packaging that they came in.)) and nothing glittery

...and he really should have been more specific because now he's got a cutesy little plug with a pink heart.

But that's okay because Bob fucked around, and now he's wound up with one that's modeled to look like one of those Valentine's candy hearts.

This is why the Reader is usually left in charge of buying.

Aftercare-wise, they're both relatively simple to deal with; Bob wants cuddles and a small snack to share (he will die defending his Ice-Cream Tastes Better Post-Sex argument), and Rhett just wants some head scratches and a long nap with his partners. It's so common for them to grow clingy, both toward each other and toward the Reader. Constant affection, sweetly spoken words, and kisses.

Which is exactly why the bathtub is so big in the house! All of them are too sore to stand, and nobody wants to be left out of the bubble bath! Someone's gotta set an alarm, though, because if you're not careful, it's easy to wind up spending a few hours in there on accident.

And it's anyone's guess if the boys are going to get hit with a second wind and pounce on the Reader or not💛

Again with me getting carried away oh my god

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

omfg I loved "Almosts" for Tolya - could we see a part 2? like more of the aftermath? also Zoya is a queen and I adore her

Zoya is a Queen and we all bow to Queen Zoya in this house my WIFE. But also, thank you and I aim to please so

Almosts (Part 2) - Tolya Yul Bataar

Grisha Reader, Order Unspecified.

Trigger Warning On This One Pals.

Content Warnings: Discussions Of Self Sacrifice And Prisoner Mentality. Discussions Of Torture, Severe Harm And Death. Canon Complaint Death And Violence. Kidnapping. Explicit Language. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Part 1

Nina gives you just as much as a talking to, but she understands it, more vibrantly than Zoya, having been more close to what you have, it is easier to understand your position. It's Tolya that you know will get you.

You know that he knows why you... but it didn't matter. Not right now. Right now, those soft eyes look like they could cut right through you. You know you will break under the weight of his concern.

So when you are finally alone with him, having had every healer from here to the coastline check you over and say you're physically okay, you aren't sure where to start.

"Tolya," you say, softer than you thought it would come out, still not able to knock the pleaing feeling from using his name. The thoughts of how many times you said it to yourself, in the quiet, like it might be the last thing you heard. Him. His name. The thought of him coming for you. That was all that stood between the torture and your breaking point.

You kept his name to your chest like a prayer, like saying it could save you, and part of you believes it did. He would've come for you in silence, he would've come for you if you hadn't wished for it, he would've come for you if you'd given up, given in. It would've have mattered to him. But you didn't, you couldn't, you would have rather died than given him up and that knowledge is ringing out like bells in the silence.

"You knew I would come for you, right?" he asks again, as if he doubted your answer the first time, like it was possible it was in the haze.

"I never doubted you Tolya, not for a moment, it was never if, only when," you assure him.

You don't want to think about if he had been much later, even moments later. What you would have left him to find, and what that would've meant. How you could never have explained your choice to him, how you would have never gotten the chance to tell him you held out the time you did, for him, to protect him. To protect your family here.

"And I didn't know if it would be in time," you admit.

"They wouldn't have killed you," Zoya says eavesdropping from the doorway.

"You know that's not what I mean," you eye her, "not in time to stop me saying something I can't take back."

Zoya looks fit to start a whirlwind in the room but Tolya gives her a glance, "can you be anywhere else right now?" he asks her, the tiredness not unfamiliar but lacking his usual wit and charm at getting on Zoya's nerves.

Zoya seems reluctant to leave you alone for any long period of time, it feels strange, you hadn't ever considered her being particularly protective over you, but maybe in hindsight she always has been, like with Nina, or maybe recent events has brought it out in here. But she leaves with an iciness around her, entrusting your safety to Tolya, in truth no one has ever made you feel safer than he does.

You don't say anything for a while, until you lean into him, letting the exhaustion move through you until his strength is all that is keeping you up, he becomes the pillar you lean on. He rests his arm around you, his spare hand moving to hold yours, running his thumb over your palm in small circles.

"I didn't mean to scare you," you tell him.

"I understand the position you were in," he whispers softly against your hair as he rests his head atop of yours, "but I meant what I said."

You don't ask him what, you don't need some clarification on what he means, because you know. You could not forgot those words and there are no other things he could possibly mean in this moment.

"Then betray me," he had, and if your heart had made a sound you doubted either of you could've heard it over the ringing of his words, "if it keeps you safe, it keeps you from harm, betray me, always betray me. I can forgive betrayal, but I cannot forgive the loss of you. I could overcome betrayal, but I can not overcome the loss of you."

"Tolya, I couldn't live with betraying you," you say, wishing you had a better answer, a softer resolve, but you have nothing to offer him except the truth.

"Losing you would've been the betrayal," he says, "and I do not say that to put guilt on your conscience but just for you to know that there is no way that you could betray me, no thing you could say, no secrets you could offer up, that would be worse than knowing you are in harms way because you think that better than telling things that are not yours to tell." You held out as well because the knowledge you had was keeping you safe as you were getting, and that was a tactic for survival as much as for loyalty, but the pull of protecting your friends, of protecting Tolya, that had been the strength that kept answers from your lips and you all know that well enough.

"You want me to promise you that I will betray you next time?" you ask. He shakes his head, a soft exhale leaving his lips.

"No, I want it to never happen, I want no next time," he tells you, "but that is not a thing I can have bound in a promise."

"I promise to try and not get kidnapped," you offer, trying to lighten the mood and sway the sadness out of his posture, "and if I do... Saints forbid, I'll do everything I can to give myself the time for you to reach me, I promise you that Tolya."

"I couldn't ask for more."

Tolya is asleep, and you are barely still awake, lain against his shoulder, you are slightly stirred by the sound of something touching the table to the side of you. You open one eye to see Zoya. You shuffle slightly and notice the blanket covering you both, that must've been Tamar, so you figure you dozed off listening to Tolya's heart at some point.

It's dark in the room, a slither of moonlight letting you make out Zoya's expression. "I had a durast make the adjustments," she tells you, "it's a promise, the same as before, but a different one."

You don't let Zoya get as far as the door before you grab the object from the table, it's the same metal she had taken off you when she rescued you, that slither of a blade meant as a promise to give up before you give in. But it's all different now, twisted and woven into a wrist cuff.

"Thank you Zoya," you tell her. Her back is turn to you, so you don't see that faint smile dance over her lips.

"Please, let's not get sentimental."

[omoghouls]

I’m glad you liked my König asks enough to use them for nefarious purposes! I’m kinda in the closet about my omo situation, so it’s nice to be able to talk about it so freely here. It’s kinda embarrassing, I hesitate to even ask my rp partner of 6 years for any jarate action at times but ah well, what can ya do? It’s not my fault people think it’s weird that I want a guy to pee in me… Speaking of, here’s another scenario for you.

I can totally see Mr. K drinking his sorrows away at a pub, losing count of just how many mugs he’s had. The life of a soldier is not an easy one, and despite his crimes against humanity he still has it in him to feel remorse on late nights like these. It’s hard for a man like him to get tipsy due to his size, so when he finally works up a buzz decent enough he pays the already staggering bill and decides to head home.

Surprisingly, the beer isn’t what affects his ability to drive.

Not only is he a sad and horny drunk, but he’s a pissy one too.

His pants are straining against his erection, and he prays his boxers will survive the drive. He’s not thinking clearly, so while he’s stopped at a light he frees himself just to avoid the restriction. The chill of the air makes his dick twitch, his bladder squeezing on instinct. Even he knows he can’t take a hand off the wheel to touch himself, but god does he want to.

The drive home is hell, so when you hear his car and step outside excitedly to greet him he isn’t exactly in the mood for the usual fluffy formalities. As soon as he’s able, he closes the door behind him and drunkenly mounts you over the couch, forgetting his needs in favor of his wants. Although, forgetting his needs didn’t get rid of them by any means, it just meant that his body was going to do it for him.

Not long after he slips into you, the squishy wetness of your insides triggers a response in him, and soon enough you were flooded with a flow of warm, yellow urine that lasted way longer than it should have. You’d think that would discourage him, but no, it only made him get rougher with you. Even as it ran down your legs and branched off of your calves he kept moving, determined to empty his bladder into his lover.

And that poor couch… Oh, that poor couch…

No matter how you scrubbed and scrubbed, the scent still lingered weeks later.

YAAAAA OMG your piss is safe herd anon😎 maybe having a place where you can post your ideas can help you feel less embarrassed!♡♡♡♡♡

And ZTSXFFX7FGX7GC 👀👀👀👀👀💖💖💖💖 OMFG those momentary reliefs that come from drinking always have its bodily consequences!

Idly touching himself through his jeans to find his keys before he gets into the car was enough for his body to sport an erection. The thoughts wrap around his mind while he drives home, the lights from the passing streetlights shining on his straining member. He's honestly not sure which will burst first, himself or his bladder-

But, finally home, his mind solely settles on just one thing; you. He initially hadn't meant to pee inside, but the idea of this special type of marking, so primal, so dirty just has König dive right over the deep end.

The couch - well, let's just say some waterproof blankets/coverings were purchased juust in case this plays out again 😎😎😎

[stayxlix]

helloooooo!!!🩵🩵 moving was pretty difficult, but thankfully, some of my friends helped and etc and now I'm ready to start anew!!

AKWKEHEG i'm just so so so glad that you've actually decided to endulge me with this trope😭 😭 I can't even explain just how excited I am to THOROUGHLY read the next chapter (and ALLLLL the other ones to come) and haha yes I'm pretty much also living for any media that include romance, buuut like I said, angry love confessions and angry passion just really do it for me🤭 and you're so right! Having a happy ending really makes me feel like crying all those times and screaming into my pillow was really worth it😭

I'm really glad you're happy that I said otde is my fav way to get rid of excessive stress, bc it really is!! I honestly want to find every single thing that could make you happy and just give it to you bc you're just so nice and ahaiwiowowjw

AND DID YOU JUST YOU VALUE MY OPINION THAT MUCH?!?!??! I ACTUALLY CANT DI THIS WTF ALEX WJY ARE U SO NICE HELP ME I'm so unbelievably glad that I can talk to you like this and try to make you feel the love for you and your story and blog, even if it's just through asks (for now!! I'm trying to build up my courage to finally text you and not do it like this by being anonymous) and I honestly wish I could give you a real life hug, I just wanna squish you and qjqjwhegejqo1 😭😭💗

I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKE THE MOODBOARD!!!!!!*×*×[×[2[2> And YES I PUT A LOOOT OF THOUGHT INTO IT BUUUT I REALLY REALLY ENJOYED MAKING IT AND I'M JUST SO FREAKING GLAD YOU LIKE IT HELPBMEKAJQ i really tried to put in what i feel when i readd otde, so i'm just really glad that you can see what I meant and it makes me even happier taht you actually like it and even SAY THAT IT'S THE PERFECT VISUAL JOURNEY FOR OTDE AND THAT IT'S THE EXACT VIBE YOU ASSOCIATE WITH OTDE??? OMFG I CANT DO THIS I AM ABOUT CRY

and yes, I will gladly talk to you about every single pic that I've decided to add, and hopefully it'll be very VERYYY soon bc I am pretty close to dming you😭🩵 and I'm in the middle of the red version already, so I'm even MORE excited to share it with you soon!! (Possibly through normal dms🤭🤭) I AGREE!! i would like to announce, that now it is canon that mc wears red Vans bc it reminds of Felix (she probably wouldn't admit it at the beginning but we KNOW) (and, why do I feel like otde Felix is the type to get something related to mc tattooed?? Maybe just a small thing like her fav flower and on his wrist somewhere so that he knows she's always somehow with him😭 or if she gave him a bracelet, he'd literally NEVER take it off like no matter what... and I feel like he'd also be the type that wears EVERYTHING related to her proudly [and probably gets a bit too turned on when he sees that she does the same] okay I may be ranting a bit too much now... i need to stop)

I'm extremely glad that the new chapter is coming along nicely!! I'm soooo anticipating it and I'll definitely have so much motivation to make something that I don't even know with what new creation of mine we'll end up with☠️😭 aaaand i'll so let you in on a little secret, I love LOVE LOVE LIKE WITH MY WHOLE SOUL LOOOONG STORIES like give me 35k words and I'm eating ALL OF IT UP. especially from you?!?!?!? But i wish you so so much good luck with the finishing up/ just writing in general!🩵🩵 don't feel any pressure to finishing it! I'll honestly wait however long is needed without any problems if it's otde🩵

And thank YOU for being so wonderful!🩵 I'm so happy to be writing another ask again💗 your answers also mean the world to me, and I love sharing the excitement and happiness I hold for not only otde, but also you🩵 Hearing that what I make for you/otde is a source of motivation truly makes me so happy that I can't even put it into words, thank you for existing, honestly!🩵

I now find myself thinking about you when I'm writing and wondering if you'll like where the story is going or certain parts etc. etc.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDUNG ME?!??!?!?! I LITERALLY XANT DO THIS IM SO CLOSW TO CFYING LIKE ARE U SERIOUS RIGHT NOW THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME ITS ACTUALLY UNREAL PLEASE

Our interactions also mean so so much to me and YOU make all of the time spent reading, and creating thinks for you/the story so so worth it that I wouldn't even imagine it being unworthy, really, I know I've said this before but finding this story/ you and your blong has genuinely made my lately life better and happier💗🩵 I am also so thankful to have you as a friend and to see what you create with your beautiful writing🩵

And yes!! Honestly, though, who wouldn't have a crush on otde Felix?! I also sometimes need to take a break and make myself that, unfortunately, otde Felix is not real anywhere else than our minds and hearts😭 (ps. I am now extremely excited for next week and am omw to add some songs to the playlist, and work on the red version of the moodboard bc I'm so glad that you are excited to see it😭😭)

This was also VEEERY long so hopefully you've survived through this (and yet I still have so much more to say help me) i'm sending another hug right back to you! Stay safe and take care, have the best rest of your day and good luck with everything!!🩵🩵 i love you just as much!!

hi hi hiiiiiiii🩵🩵🩵 im so sorry i wasn’t able to respond until now, i had the most hectic weekend!! i went on a roller coaster for the first time and i don’t think i’ve ever been so happy and terrified all at once before😂😂 (although i do love a good scary movie lol). but im so glad you had good friends to help you move, i know from experience that it makes all the difference :) starting anew is one of my favorite things about life!! even if it can be scary sometimes, it sounds like you’ve got a wonderful support system there with you<333

are you kidding me?!? i LOVE talking about tropes like the one you sent, it resonated so much with me (as does everything you say lol) angry love confessions? YES. angry passion? YES. and a happy ending to wrap it all up?? SIGN ME UP. (btw i like how you mentioned screaming into your pillow because this has also become a regular occurrence for me while writing this story😂) but the fact that you said you’re excited for the new chapter makes me that much more excited to share it (although i am a bit nervous, but what else is new lol) it also makes me want to take even more care with every single word that i include (much like answering your asks lol) im a bit particular about it and it makes me feel really good to know that you want to read it thoroughly because it makes the time spent writing all worth it🥹🥹 (even if it does end up being 35k words lmao) at least i know you’ll still be willing to read it all🥹because ill let you in on another secret, a little over halfway through i checked and it was at like 12k words????? help🙃 and the middle is still a bit of a mess but im really really stuck on my goal of putting it out some time this weekend, so we’ll see.🤭 ive considered splitting it up, and i honestly still might (but i don’t really like the idea of the first half being it’s own part so i even thought about doing like 5.1 and 5.2????? is that even a thing to split a chapter into two?????) lol idk all i know is im just hoping i have plenty of time this week to figure it out😂 thank you so so much for the good luck, kind words, and your amazing support🩵🩵 i need it more than you realize😂

you saying otde is your favorite way to relieve stress is like its own kind of stress relief for me🥹🥹 seriously!! and you are so unbelievably sweet to say that you want to give me every single thing that makes me happy😭 but 🩵, i promise you your asks already make me happier than you could ever imagine!! i only hope that my responses do the same for you because you are so incredible and important to me💕💕which means that OF COURSE I VALUE YOUR OPINION!! readers are the heart and soul of any story, and feedback like yours is the backbone that keeps me going. it keeps the story alive, you know???? and i would be a fool not to recognize that. you have done more than enough to make me feel the love for my little story and blog, even if it is through asks!! don’t ever discount that or feel pressured to do anything further. of course my dms are always open for you🩵 but take all the time you need love, no pressure :)

LIKE THE MOODBOARD???!?!?!? NO NO I L O V E  IT. I CAN TELL HOW MUCH THOUGHT YOU PUT INTO IT AND I AM SO PROUD OF IT THAT I WANT TO SHOW IT OFF TO EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN MY LIFE (and i totally would, if any of them knew that this blog existed lol) BUT THAT IS HOW MUCH IL OVE IT. I LVOE IT WITH MY ENTIRE HEART AND SOUL.😭 (and i think mc would too) because i could literally feel the emotions you portrayed, and i cannot even put into words how that makes me feel. your love for this story is something i will never ever forget. even years down the road. you are so special to me, and the offer to go through and discuss all of the pictures (and the songs on your playlist) stands forever. my door will always be open<3 you don’t even have to knock lol just come on in and we can pick right back up wherever we left off. AND WHEN I TELL YOU I AM SO EXCITED FOR THE RED VERSION I MEAN LIKE SHAKING WITH EXCITEMENT ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT BITING MY NAILS ANXIOUSLY AWAITING THE MOMENT IT DROPS🤭🤭(take your time though of course, because i know these things can’t be rushed🩵)

and if i’m being honest i have been thinking about this whole vans thing ever since you brought it up…like my mind has been spiraling with ideas about how our main couple would be in a world like ours, like if they were real college students or something idk. and we have definitely confirmed that its canon that mc would wear red vans because of felix and IT IS EVEN MOre CANON that felix would have something related to her tattooed?!?(I SQUEALED WHEN I READ THIS NO YOU DONT EVEN UNDERSTAND) “Maybe just a small thing like her fav flower and on his wrist somewhere so that he knows she's always somehow with him” THIS.😭 but wait what if the flower was something SHE drew, like maybe just something small that she casually sketched while they were together and he kept it without her even knowing, or if she drew it on a little note to him?????? i am WEAK.😭😭😭😭

“or if she gave him a bracelet, he'd literally NEVER take it off like no matter what” no this is SO good too because even though he would rather die than admit it, he is so fucking obsessed with that little bracelet. because it was from her. OR MAYBE ITS JUST A LITTLE HAIR TIE THAT SHE TOOK OF AND WRAPPED AROUND HIS WRIST CASUALLY oNE daY AND HE HASNT TAKEN IT OFF SINCE BC IT REMINDS HIM OF HER AND - I CANT.😭 pls. we need to discuss this further. and don’t even get me started on how turned on he would be if he catches her wearing something of HIS. nah you’re insane for this and i’m cutting myself off before i get too invested and start making this into its own separate little fic. (mc and lix in a parallel universe or something lol, maybe a past life even??) idk send help😂

thank YOU for existing 🩵, my adoration for you grows even more every single time i see you pop up in my askbox, if that’s even possible :) i mean every word i put into in my responses and i cannot WAIT to see what new creations we’ll end up with from you💕 (starting with the red moodboard of course) you are wonderful, and you have no idea how much you have touched me with your words and interactions. for all we know, we might be halfway across the world from each other, but whenever i read your asks i always feel so close to you.🥹 they give me life, and its probably a good thing we don’t know each other in person, because I would be absolutely SHOWERING you with love 24/7, i would never leave you alone and you’d probably get sick of me lol.😂😂 you make my life better too🩵🩵thank you so much for saying that you think my writing is beautiful, how am i not supposed to think of you when i write when you say such kind things like this???🥹🥹🥹

“I also sometimes need to take a break and make myself that, unfortunately, otde Felix is not real” the struggle is REAL😭 and omg i saw that you added the eve by exo to the playlist and i HAVE to ask if it was because of the hyunlix dance cover from the fanmeet??? bc i also considered adding that song to mine after i saw their dance (don’t even get me started on that and how RUDE it was lmao)

okay okay, if you have made it to the end of this then i sincerely thank you for taking the time out of your day to read it, i could go on forever (you’d never believe how quiet i am in real life😂) but i just have SO much to say when it comes to you. so have an absolutely amazing start to your week 🩵🩵🩵 i hope its full of all of your favorite things and plenty of moments that make you smile<3333 sending SO much love and the biggest warmest hug back your way🤗 talk soon💕💕

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he��s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[kisakunt]

hi, i was wondering if you could maybe do a request for shin where the reader is being a brat and shin decides to punish her by putting his cigs out on her? maybe throw in some orgasm denial too? i love your work sm!!

omfg god bless, lil thing for the birfday boy

cw: nsfw, cigarette branding, smoke play, orgasm denial, light bondage (like literally barely any), fem reader

wc: 1.6k

shinichiro likes to smoke in his shop when there are no customers. he’ll never admit it to anyone but you, even if the smell so clearly lingers on him and every piece of furniture he owns. it’s calming to him to turn his music up, look over his receipts, and light a square in the comfort of his office; he almost loves the way the smoke culminates in the space between him and rows of bikes.

so, it’s no surprise to find you here, half laying on his workbench, back pressed against the wall. your skirt is bunched up under your thighs, pretty pussy bare, hands tied against each other while your boyfriend seats opposite to you, lit cigarette in hand.

“you just don’t learn, sweetheart.” he has you where he always does, right where he wants, needy under his hazy smile. “yknow i love makin’ ya feel good, but when i got shit to do i got shit to do.” he leans back into his seat further, eyes pinpointing the way you shift against yourself when he takes a long drag of his cigarette.

shinichiro is a passionate victim of self indulgence, and this is his ultimate vice. he thinks subconsciously this has to be the reason he took up smoking— how desperate it makes you. but, nonetheless, he waits. he lets the tension sit in the air, ignores the need crawling at his skin, ignores how good you look for him, just so he can hear you beg.

“‘m sorry,” it comes out a whine, and he figures, in a twisted way, you are.

his tongue swipes over his bottom lip— it’s sudden appearance foreshadowing his thoughts just a little, before it gets hidden by his grin. “yeah?” the word is so simple, so casual, but it sounds intricate from his lips.

he leans forward, smoke loose between his perfect fucking fingers, breath warm on your skin, before he places a soft kiss to your thigh.

“don’t really believe ya,” another drag, another accentuation of his knuckles against his lips before he’s back where he was, closer this time, harsher as he blows the smoke soft against your thigh. “i think you get off on this shit, beautiful.” he watches intently as the smoke damn near travels up your leg, wonders how bad it would sting against your cunt, gratifies the thought when you whimper slightly.

another kiss to your inner thigh, closer this time. “you just gotta learn, baby, you know that.” it comes out a murmur against your skin, and he’s not quite sure you even heard him. but he’d show you what he meant, he always does— you’re so good at baiting him into this exact position and he can’t find it in him to care.

“shin, please, i promise— please.” it’s sweet to him that you sound this fucked up without him laying a finger on you. shinichiro adores you, he really does, and what kind of boyfriend would be be if he didn’t give you what you so clearly need? his face finds it’s space between your legs where he swears it belongs, and he relishes in the way you subconsciously go to tighten your limbs around his head, his free hand lifting on instinct to push them back open.

he flicks the end of his cigarette over your thigh when his tongue meets your clit. a hum spills from his lips when he flattens it just right against you, eyes shutting at the strangled moan that leaves you. shinichiro is reliable— consistent with his technique and with how pussy drunk he gets off of you immediately. his tongue doesn’t miss the way you flutter against him when he presses a flat stripe up your folds, and he punctuates it with a slow kiss to your clit.

he lets it build up, savors the way you shake under him. and you’re so telling— so devoted to him that he knows exactly what each twitch of your body means. an image of your face plays in his head, one he knows you’re replicating now, and he groans against you.

but then, he’s gone without a warning, hand pressing your hip again, holding it down on the surface of the bench when you try to chase him with a thrust. “so needy.” he wipes the edge of his mouth with his fingers, cleaning off the absolute mess you left him. he lifts himself up, stiffly albeit, bringing them to your lips as he stands in front of you. he takes another inhale and he wonders how his cigarette has lasted this long, even if it’s on its last life. he watches intently as you taste yourself on him, gulps down at the way you work against his digits.

“stop promising shit you don’t mean.” his face is almost against yours, fingers out of your mouth and wet against your jaw. before you can come up with a desperate lie he kisses you, licking against the line of your teeth, moving to drink at the saliva that pools on your tastebuds.

his hand stays rested on your jaw, cradles the quiver in it as your eyes well up. “cigarette’s almost out.” he holds the butt to you now, let’s you take the last drag, just like he always does. “you like this, don’t you?”

upon your nod, your silent admittance, he carries it down and down and down, until he presses the square out hard on your thigh. he goes forward instantly, mouth capturing the sob from your throat— open, and warm, and god, he fucking loves this. his thumb swipes over the new burn mark, feels over the faded scars of the previous ones, before gravitating back to your clit.

he’s lazy in his motions, laughing to himself at the spit that follows him once he separates the two of you. he scans your features, pride welling at the need in your expression. his hips rut slightly against nothing when he dips his head to lick the base of your throat, body needy but patient. “fuckin’ love the way you taste,” and he does. every part of you down to your fucking sweat is enough to have his dick unruly, drooling in his boxers just like your pretty fucking mouth.

this is right to him— the way you clench around his fingers instantly, suck in his pointer and middle as if they were as fat as his cock, how you sound when you moan his name, how you’re the only thing that could just about make him cum from a look.

shinichiro loves to smoke; loves the burn in his throat, the way the smell lingers on him, how it gives him an excuse to step outside and take in every beautiful thing about the city. he loves to work on bikes, as well. loves the pattern in the problems, how methodical it is every single time no matter what he’s doing. but he’s sure, right now, he’d give anything up to keep you like this.

his fingers curl up, memorize the padding of your walls, and he’s truly infatuated. “yeah, pretty girl, i know.” he brushes your ear with his smoked stained lips, whispers of how good you’re taking it overwhelming you. he’s tantalizing, debilitating with his movements, fingers stuttering every time he feels your build up.

“shin, fuck,” maybe he should be worried about how attractive the desperation in your tone is, but nonetheless his cock twitches when you whimper his name again. “shinichiro, please— god, please, please, please.” and it seems like you do grasp what he was saying, at least temporarily, because you wait to fall apart until he approves.

he groans almost as loud as you cry when you cum, continuing his ministrations as you clamp dangerously tight against his hand, the feeling too familiar. he waits for your body to slump and once it does, he softly moves you a little to lean on him, supporting your weight carefully.

and he finds himself switching places with you earlier, sucking his own fingers while you watch him apprehensively, grinning as they leave his mouth with a pop.

“how’s your leg?” you nod, vision tired and loving. you lift your tied wrists to him, tilting your head a little.

“hate not bein’ able to touch you, ‘chiro.” he’s convinced you’re the greatest thing that could have come into his life. he unties you carefully, fingers slow, talented in every aspect, and he follows their new freedom by massaging the skin over your carpal bones.

you shift, pushing down to sit up properly before you pull him closer by his neck. your fingers fumble with the collar of his plaid, covered with a days work and his sweat. you reach into the breast pocket silently, content as you grab his pack of mevius menthols. you hit the box against your palm, grab a loose square and place it between your lips, switching the box out for a lighter.

you don’t move away as you light it, smoke almost painful in both of your eyes as you puff it out past the stick. you look at him, as if he wasn’t stuck on you already, nimble hands moving to let it rest between your fingers.

“wanna fuck me, shin?” and what a stupid fucking question. he’s back on you instantly, scrambling for his belt with a boyish laugh, a series of uncoordinated kisses landing on your neck.

shinichiro thinks, subconsciously, you’re the reason he started smoking— but as he lines himself up with your folds, let’s you kiss the smoke into his mouth, watches you almost drop the puff when he enters you without a warning, he knows you’re the reason he won’t stop.

tagging: @drizzydraken @haruchiyo i feel eh ab this, wtvr i’m sleep deprived

[hannahhasnofriends]

happier | dream

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

summary: based off the song happier by olivia rodrigo!

pairing: dream x reader

warnings: angst, break ups, this is just fucking sad lmao, real names are used (srry not srry)

word count: 1.2k

a/n: i love olivia rodrigos new album i literally have not listened to anything else since it came out omfg😎 also i think i like this fic?? idk gimme some thoughts n feedback :)

We broke up a month ago Your friends are mine, you know I know You've moved on, found someone new One more girl who brings out the better in you And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But she's so sweet, she's so pretty Does she mean you forgot about me?

"Hey guys! I've missed you all so much." I hug Sapnap tightly and move on to the next person I was greeting.

A "reunion" we were calling it, it'd been a year since the SMP ended and everyone wanted to get into touch again. It was bittersweet seeing everyone , it seemed like we'd grown up so much since then. Hell, I know I have.

"Hey darling, " I turn and see Niki, I missed her so much. We were the first female streamers on the SMP, she'd been my best friend. "How are you?"

"I'm good, really." I could see the sympathy in her eyes. I pretended not to notice when everyone did a double take when I walked into the room, they really thought I wasn't going to come today.

"That's good, I've missed you." She had a tight smile on her face. "You know he's coming today, right?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, I knew someone was going to ask. It was fine, I had prepared myself for the questions and stares. It'd been 6 months, half a year, 6 damn full moons since we'd ended. We share the same friends, it was hard knowing they were going to pick sides, we both knew it wasn't going to be mine.

"Clay? Yeah, I know. Don't worry, we've both moved on. We're adults and I don't need to hide from him. We're friends!" I was lying through my fucking teeth. I saw his instagram posts, the subtweets, and everything else that had her named burned into it.

"Ok, I just wanted to check in. I know we all took the erm- break-up pretty hard." Her eyes avoided mine but I know she truly meant well by everything she was saying. "Anyway, I'm going to say hi to a few others. I really want us to talk more, ok?"

She squeezed my arm as she was walking off, I nodded my head even though I probably wouldn't be able to bring myself to message her after this.

I took a deep breath and eyed my other company. I was sticking out like a sore thumb, everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves. Honestly, it'd probably be best to make a cowardly dash before he showed up.

Just as I'd made up my mind, I saw it. The main doors opened and there they were. Well. Too damn late for that.

He was as tall and gorgeous as he was 6 months ago and she was stunningly perched on his arm. The worst part wasn't how goddamn good they looked, it was how you could just tell they were right. You could simply glance in their direction and tell she was nice and kind and he was completely devoted to her.

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Just like that, all the air in the room had been sucked out. I was doomed.

As he made his way around the room, his eyes finally found mine. His smile faltered and I could tell he was taken aback. I averted my eyes quickly, this was so stupid.

“Y/n! Hi!” I jumped as I heard his voice, sneaky little bastard. I forced my best smile on my face as I turned to face them. She was standing next to him, still arm in arm but she stayed silent.

“Hey! How’s it going.” I pressed my lips together, he seemed so… ok? His eyes no longer had those dark circles and the cuts on his knuckles look healed.

“I’m good! How about you?” He tilts his head, curious.

“I’m doing good, too. Pretty busy, but you know.” I nodded along to what I said, it wasn’t a complete lie.

Abruptly, she clears her throat and side eyes Clay, obviously wanting something. “Oh, right! This is Grace.”

“Hi, I’ve heard great things about you.” She smiles so warmly, she seems so great. I could feel the jealously sinking into my skin, it was suffocating.

“Hello, it’s really nice to meet you.” This time I really was lying. But I couldn’t tell her the truth. How I couldn’t let her boyfriend go.

And do you tell her she's the most beautiful girl you've ever seen? An eternal love bullshit you know you'll never mean Remember when I believed You meant it when you said it first to me? And now I'm pickin' her apart Like cuttin' her down will make you miss my wretched heart But she's beautiful, she looks kind She probably gives you butterflies

She kept up the small talk with me. I learned she was an artist and slightly older than him. She taught art to kids on the weekends and her parents were still married. She even volunteered to help me move.

I noticed the rings she wore and thought about whether he gave them to her. If he gave her the same gifts he gave me. Maybe she knew too. Maybe she knew he took her to the same places we went. Did the same things, laughed at the same jokes. I hope she did.

But the conversation continued, and I kept searching for a flaw. Something to make him realize she wasn’t meant for him. Something I could point out and have my aha moment.

But she was perfect. And I had nothing that would make him pick me instead of her.

I wish you all the best, really Say you love her, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on her I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The music picked up again and they excused themselves to the dance floor. It was a sappy, corny love song. It fit them perfectly. I could see him whisper in her ear and rock her back forth to the beat. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

As they swayed, I was hoping he was thinking of me. I hoped he would drop her right then and there and grab my hand and lead me out of this mess. I hoped he would lock eyes with me and pretend none of this happened. I hoped they weren't as happy as they looked.

I hope you're happy Just not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

As I watched them, I swear every memory we shared came fleeting into my mind. Every smile, every laugh, every fight, everything. The way he’d let me wear his sunglasses in the car and the time we danced in the rain and we’re sick for days after.

As I watched them I wondered wether they were truly happy together. If he was in love, if he loved her more than he loved me. If he ever thought of me when he was with her.

I wonder if he watched me as I left.

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink

~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD

.-

FROM THIS LIST  |  Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜

.-

When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage  at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.

He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.

“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face. 

“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk. 

It’s a decade and a half later—  as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.

“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”

Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”

“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least,  to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly,  searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand. 

“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of  the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.

“Thanks Cas.”

She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”

“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”

“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.

Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”

“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.

“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.

Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”

“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice. 

“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.

Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”

Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”

Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”

“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

Yeah, today is so bloody shit.

.-

Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.

Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.

“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.

“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.

“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors. 

They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.

To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”

Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”

“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”

The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”

Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even. 

“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”

“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.

“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.

“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”

Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.

“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.

.-

The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.

.-

He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital. 

However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.

While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin. 

And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.

And fuck.

Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.

They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.

Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.

“Oh, you’re a fan then?” 

Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”

“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”

“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.

“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”

“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.

“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”

And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.

And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.

“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.

“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”

Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.

“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”

And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped. 

Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.

God, what an idiot.

With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”

Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.

Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

.-

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

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[werewolf-witchboy]

Tokoyami Fumikage X Male Reader

Being A Witch Boy And Dating Tokoyami

WARNINGS: none uwu

Being a witch has nothing to do with your quirk, you just like practicing the dark arts and witchy things.

I'm not going to mention what your quirk is, so you can imagine that you have whatever quirk you want, or you can imagine yourself as someone without a quirk.

💀 Tokoyami had been fascinated with your hobby of witchcraft ever since he met you. He was most fascinated with the fact that your actual quirk has nothing to do with how your witchcraft works.

🕯 He had already thought you were cute before, and he had been in that time of his life where he was starting to question his sexuality a little- but after you showed him your witchy interests, he fell hard for you.

💀 He may be a dark and edgy birb boi, but he's also quite shy and awkward. He probably would have never confronted you about his crush if you hadn't told him your feelings for him first.

🕯 When y'all started dating, literally everyone was like "FINALLY!!" cuz it was super obvious that the two of you were meant for each other.

💀 When it comes to what type of witch you are, i'd say you're a witch of all traits.

-You love dark and spooky things, but you also love pastel colors and nature.

-Your room in the class 1A dorm is most likely full of plants, candels, a variety of antiques and trinkets, and shit that you can't buy at stores until it's around Halloween time.

🕯 Tokoyami likes to ask many questions about all of the different types of things you do, and he actually pays attention and is super interested. You'll even teach him some new things, and show him how to do them himself.

💀 You love Dark Shadow as much as you love Tokoyami himself. Though they're both very different in personality, you find them both charming and adorable (despite them both saying they're not "adorable," they're dark and spoopy lmao).

🕯 He also loves your animal familiar.

-Your familiar rarely comes out of your bedroom. Since you're dating Tokoyami, you allow him in your room (which means a lot more than he probably thinks it does, cuz spaces where witches do their magic and recharging are very sacred to them) so he gets to see your familiar quite often.

💀 It's rare for familiars to show affection to anyone that isn't their bonded witch, but your familiar absolutely loves Tokoyami.

-They'll hop onto his lap immediately as soon as he sits down in your room.

🕯 Both you and Tokoyami thrive in the darkness, so there are often times where you both hang around in your dimly lit room cuddled up together just talking all day (or even sometimes laying there in comfortable silence).

-You'll be in there together for so long that all of your friends will start questioning where you're both at, and not even realize that you're just in your room.

💀 He obviously likes you a whole lot, but he's super bad at saying it with words. He's just shy and bashful. BUT THEN DARK SHADOW EXPOSES HIM LMAO-

-You'll be standing there looking super cute, and Tokoyami will just stare at you and want to say something so badly. Then Dark Shadow appears and is all like "wOw yOu'Re sUpEr hOt" and Tokoyami just dies right there in the very spot he's standing cuz he can't believe that just happened.

🕯 That's another thing- Tokoyami stares at you a LOT. He even did it before y'all started dating, but now he doesn't even try to hide it.

-You barely noticed at first, but once you started noticing how often you catch him staring at you, you can't help but tease him a little.

-You'll stare at him back, directly in the eyes, and he'll get super flustered and embarrassed.

-Then to calm him down and make him feel less embarrassed, you'll giggle at his flustered-ness and give him a lil beak kiss...which just makes him even more flustered.

💀 He's definitely the type who wants to be a total romantic, and speak all poem-like to you, and shower you with praises, ect. BUT he gets so flustered when it comes to affection, and second-guesses himself when it comes to his ideas of showing affection.

-He's scared of coming off too strong, or seeming to clingy, or even not doing enough, so he never really gets the chance to act out any of how he wants to show affection- and to top it all off he can't help but be absolutely smitten every time you give him affection of any sort, and he'll not know how to react to it.

🕯 You never call him out on his shyness or how he reacts to your affection, you're not offended with any way he reacts to you. You think it's super cute how innocent he seems when it comes to all of this, and of course you encourage any time he gets a little bit of confidence to hold your hand or compliment you (without the help of Dark Shadow lol).

💀 His feathers get all ruffled when he's flustered, and OMFG it's too cute. 🥺😭

🕯 Something that he loves so much is when you borrow his clothes. Because for him, it's kind of a way to show affection towards you without being super direct about it.

-So him being like "you're cold? here, wear my sweatshirt" translates to "TAKE EVERYTHING FROM ME, KEEP IT FOREVER, I LOVE YOU FJSKDJFHR-"

💀 Don't come @ me- Tokoyami listens to death metal, but he'd totally vibe with something like kpop if you introduced him to it.

-He's definitely a Loona stan.

🕯 Highkey though, now that I think of it- he probably also listens to Joji and Billie Eilish.

-Like, really moody sad boi hours indie music.

-He'd have Will He playing in his headphones, and he'd be all edgy and in his feelings, but he'd also be doing something like baking cookies at the same time lmfao.

-He'd have a playlist named "songs to cry to," but he'd be listening to it while knitting sweaters for puppies or something.

💀 No, you didn't ask me what kind of music that I think Tokoyami listens to, but you got it anyway. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

🕯 If he's at a store, and sees something kinda spooky looking that makes him think of you, he'd quickly get it and think all day of giving it to you, and he'd want to watch you add it to your collection of lil trinkets and antiques.

-....But he'd chicken out so hard I stg.

-This poor baby would rehearse how he'd give it to you in his head over and over again, and then when the time comes to give it to you, he'd get suddenly so tongue-tied and worried if you'd actually like it or not.

-But, of course, you love whatever he gets you every time. Your always super surprised when he gets you something, cuz it's not your birthday or any special day, and you never expect gifts from people.

-Every time you accept a gift from him, you always want to squeal, tackle him, and shower him with kisses- but you resist doing so with all of your being, cuz you know he'd malfunction.

-Instead you very profoundly thank him many times, and give him one especially loving kiss.

-Seeing your extra surprised and happy reaction always relieves him so much, and it makes him want to do it all over again and gift you a whole shop full of trinkets. His lack of hundreds of dollars is the only thing that stops him.

💀 You're the type of person who wears a lot of black, and scatters bright colors here and there within your look. Your style ranges from goth to pastel e-boy.

🕯 You don't like to change other people's styles or tell other people what to wear, but every once in a while, Tokoyami expresses an interest in dressing like you- which you go NUTS over.

-You'll let him borrow your pastel sweaters, and he'll let you put bright colored hairclips in his feathers.

-He now even owns some pastel colored clothing of his own, that you either gifted him or he secretly bought himself at some point.

💀 He used to be shy about changing up his style every once in a while at first. Whenever you'd take pictures of him wearing bright clothes, he'd softly ask you not to show them to any of the others.

-Eventually he became confident enough to go out in public those rare days he'd wear bright colors, and everyone is always super supportive of the different style.

🕯 He had never been in a relationship with another guy before he started dating you.

-He started questioning his sexuality around the time he started high school, but it was never a priority at first because he was more focused on working hard to get into U.A. and thinking about his future being a hero.

-aNd tHeN hE mEt yOu, and now we're here lol.

-ANYWAYS, y'all go to pride parades together.

-Something he isn't shy about is his sexuality, cuz as soon as he realized how he felt about you, he was all in and that was that.

-Y'all go all out for parades with face and body paint, and shirts with your flags on them, and even sometimes bringing signs and flags to hold up and wave around.

-Some of your friends will come with the two of you, whether they're there because they're also lgbtq+ or just because they support it.

-It's the most social the two of you are the entire year, cuz your both introverted lil emos that don't really talk to many people outside of class 1A.

💀 So yeah- I think Tokoyami is highly underrated and I'm extremely soft for him. He's an emo birb boi, what is not to love.

-I believe in emo birb boi supremacy.

-Rise all Tokoyami stans, we shall take over the entire anime world someday.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 297: We’re Bustin’ Outta This Joint

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi did his best to undo all of the good vibes from the Girl Power arc by killing off Midnight. It sucks and I still don’t like it, but it is what it is. Unfortunately, Not Killing Off Your One Female Teacher Character With Any Character Development was worth 30% of his grade for the semester, so it brought his average down all the way to a C-, and so he and his report card will just have to live with that. Meanwhile Ochako did some rescuing, and the other U.A. kids lay around unconscious and/or traumatized. The chapter ended with an abrupt cut to Tartarus, where AFO is apparently just chilling and waiting for the Nearly High Ends to come bust him free. What kind of a cliffhanger is that to leave your fans hanging on for three whole weeks. Who’s suffering more here, the characters or the readers.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “okay I know you all want to know what happens to Deku and Shouto and the rest, but have you considered finding out what happens to Overhaul and Muscular and Moonfish and New Girl Character instead?” Fandom is all, “you had us at New Girl Character.” Seiji’s dad is all, “I’m just going to say a bunch of stuff to help make sure none of the readers feel conflicted about cheering on a bunch of mass murderers escaping from prison.” Tomura is all, “dammit AFO why are you still here.” AFO is all, “shhh, Tomura, go back to sleep.” Tomura is all, “wtf but you’re literally hijacking my body and continuing to shred it to bits while we break into BnHA Alcatraz to recruit your own personal Suicide Squad.” AFO is all, “:).” Real!AFO is all, “HERE I AM, EVERYONE, SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING.” And then the chapter ends. Geez.

oh shit lol it’s a whole big fucking page all about Tartarus

my very first thought was “that’s a long-ass fucking bridge”, and then I went to go google “longest bridges”, and Wikipedia was all “son there are literally a hundred and fifty bridges in the real world longer than 5km, and the longest one is actually 165km”, and I was all “oh shit I really don’t know jack shit about bridges.” then I looked at the list for a few more minutes and realized that the super-long bridges were all built over land, and that the longest bridge over water is only 38km. which is way more reasonable, but also still really fucking long though?? ngl I would freak the fuck out on that bridge. what does any of this have to do with Tartarus you ask?? absolutely nothing, I literally forgot I was reading a chapter for a sec lol uh

anyway, my parting thought on the bridge is that it kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a giant island fortress prison, but whatever. moving on

and the six levels thing is straight out of One Piece lol. something tells me BnHA’s prison break arc isn’t going to be quite as fun. hmm

so now we’re cutting to “the Bronze Gate”, which is the main entrance off of the bridge, and some goat-looking motherfucker is out here trying to become my new favorite character. bro

SON OF A BITCH WHAT’S WITH THE BULLETS FLYING IN THE BACKGROUND. DON’T TELL ME THEY’RE SHOOTING AT GYGES. THEY CAN’T KILL OFF MY FRESHEST HOMIE GYGES. SURELY THEY WOULDN’T

ooh and now, giant robots!

giant robots with machine guns. “I’m very sorry I killed off Midnight, makeste” you know what, fuck you Horikoshi. thinking you can buy my affections back so easily

does Gyges have six arms??? look how fucking calm he is announcing the code red security lockdown, holy shit. GYGES

NOOOO

NO NOT BRIAREUS. THIS DAY EXACTS A HEAVY TOLL

YO, WHAT

he came there himself?? so much for making the Noumus do his dirty work. and based on the speech bubble shape and font, this is still AFO talking

uh oh what’s happening

is he using Decay or is his arm just sort of crumbling to pieces because he hasn’t had time to heal up yet? if it’s the former this prison break is going to set a record for shortest arc yet isn’t it

now we’re cutting to B10 which is apparently the lowest level. but do they mean lowest as in the least security, or lowest as in the deepest underground, a.k.a. the most security? idk it’s confusing and I think they should be more specific. is it B like in basement?? are there six levels or ten?? stupid Tartarus

anyway so the guards are talking about how Gigantomachia is scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning. heh. will there even be a Tartarus tomorrow morning

(ETA: WELL, UH.)

wow they’re talking about just killing him outright. damn

I kinda feel like “prison guard” is one of those jobs that just sort of naturally attracts shitty people. anyways yeah, Seiji your dad is a real piece of work

and he’s even doubling down on it after the other guy repeatedly keeps trying to hush him up. dude we get it, you’re an asshole

ooh and now we’re getting an interesting look at the various prisoners, some of whom look suspiciously familiar!

for starters, that’s definitely Moonfish in the upper left corner, I’m like 99% sure. not quite clear who that is across from him in the upper right, but it’s been a hot minute since we saw Muscular, so maybe?

and could that be Overhaul in the panel beneath him?? they’re not showing his face so I assume it’s someone we’d recognize, and he’s the only currently-incarcerated villain with that haircut as far as I can recall. though it seems weird that he’s not restrained more given his quirk. I thought Horikoshi mentioned in Ultra Analysis that he’d gotten it back somehow. eh well we will wait for answers

I don’t recognize the person to his left either (though she has an oddly familiar look to her?). but the person on the bottom right, next to Kurogiri... is it Stain?? the hair and body language are sure giving off Stain vibes. if someone had told the me from two years ago that I’d actually be excited to see Stain again I would have said you were full of shit. and yet here we are. these sure are interesting times

anyway so now the Code Red intruder alarm is blaring. and I gotta say, that one scene sure was effective at killing any sympathy I might have been inclined to feel for these guards lol. bring on the imminent massacre

“what horrible timing” lol yes. it’s almost as if they planned it that way

uh oh

is he omae wa shindeiruing. watch your six, Mr. Prison Guard

oh shit

WHAT DID I SAY. WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY. but nooo, you all were all, “but a bridge is more convenient!” VERY WELL THEN, LIE IN THE BED THAT YOU HAVE MADE

anyway so it’s the High Ends lol. I mean we already knew it was them. let’s just get on with it

omfg Tomura ARE YOU RIDING ONE

WHAT ARE YOU, A NAZGUL. WHY IS THIS MY FAVORITE THING

and it looks like it actually is Tomura again, too (as opposed to AFOmura)

-- is he using Decay on himself?? is that what it is?? or no wait, is this just more of the weird side effect shit that’s been happening since he Awakened. actually yeah never mind that’s clearly what it is

y’all this man is out here having a full blown argument with himself

so this is equal parts compelling and hilarious to me right now lol. like I feel so bad for Tomura, but I also lowkey want to see how far this escalates. like do you think he’d go as far as to punch himself in the face. where will this journey lead us

fucking look at this shit

other people have already mentioned this, but with this scene especially it makes me really curious how they’re going to show this in the anime. will it be AFO’s voice coming out of Tomura’s mouth? or Tomura’s voice using AFO’s speech patterns? more importantly, will it be cool and dramatic, or will it actually wind up being hilarious? or both?? never count out both

also he’s looking pretty good there in that bottom panel with his one eye just barely visible. that doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but here I am, pointing it out

also also, lol at Tomura being all, “the fuck do you mean, ‘rest’, you’re the one that dragged my body out here to raid a fucking prison,” and AFO being all, “oh yeah, lol, true true, but I meant rest after that.” yes, this man clearly has nothing but the purest intentions, Tomura. trustworthy af

this fucking guy. Tomura is your bullshit radar finally operational yet?? can you see yet that it was always his intention to use you right from the very start?? oh man I am starting to get fidgety now listening to this

so Tomura’s saying he doesn’t just want to be used as a chess piece. and AFO is all, “well okay but what if it’s a VERY NICE AND IMPORTANT chess piece.” bro DID HE STUTTER

-- AHH BUT NEVER MIND THAT, HERE IT IS, THIS IS WHERE THE FUN STARTS OMG

GO ON AND ACQUIRE THEM THEN! omg. why am I so fucking excited. it seriously makes no sense. like seriously, ‘hooray, our old buddies, Overhaul and Stain!!’ -- come again now?? who is this person that I have become

meanwhile AFO is making all this fuss and I really don’t understand it though

why would you need to plow directly through the building. why can’t you just use doors like a normal person. it’s not like they can lock you out, like hello, you can literally turn anything you touch into dust, what’s with all the melodrama

anyway so he’s apparently hitting the prison with some sort of EMP attack now and shutting down all their systems

omg the suspense is killing me. this is going to be so badass once it’s animated, but right now all I keep thinking is “YES, GREAT, CAN WE PLEASE JUST MOVE IT ALONG”

the doors are opening ahhhhhhh come on come on come on let’s go let’s get to the excitement already

now the guards are running over to try and regain control. but, like

yeah that’s pretty much how I’m expecting the rest of this to go basically

so now they’re shooting at the dust cloud lol. well if there’s one thing movies have taught me, it’s that bad guys who wait inside clouds of dust while panicked cops blindly rain bullets at them until they run out of ammo are basically invincible lol. soooooo

OHHHHH SHIT

AHAHAHAHAHAHA. THEY ARE SO FUCKED LOL, SHIT

YEP, AND HERE’S ANOTHER ONE

is this the first time we’ve seen Moonfish’s face? I feel like we might have caught a glimpse of it before on an omake page or something. either way, it wasn’t anything I actually needed to see again. thanks...?? I guess??

okay but seriously, are we supposed to actually know who this badass lady is?? like I don’t know her but I feel like I know her, you feel?

(ETA: lol there are already like 60 different theories about how she’s related to every single character in the series. will be interesting to see if anything comes of this. although we did just get three “this villain was secretly related to [insert character(s) here] all along” reveals just in the last arc, so idk, it might be better if we pass on it this time lol.)

girl who are you. please stick around. for the love of god don’t let this man kill you off too

????

wait so is this Overhaul? boy sure has seen better days huh. but the floppy sleeves... yeah, it’s gotta be him

anyway so then the only ones missing are Stain and Kurogiri, yes?? omg. and one page left to go

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO CONVINCE ME HE COULDN’T HAVE DONE THIS SHIT RIGHT FROM THE VERY BEGINNING. FUCKING TIME-BIDING DRAMA QUEEN

AND HE’S JUST FLOATING HIS LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEM ALONG BEHIND HIM SOB. THIS FUCKING GUY

AND IS HE JUST ABSENTMINDEDLY DRAGGING SOME POOR SCHLUB’S CORPSE ALONG BESIDE HIM LIKE A SLEEPY TODDLER CARRYING THEIR TEDDY BEAR. I FUCKING CAN’T. REST IN PEACE, FRIEND. GIVE MY REGARDS TO GOOD OLD BRIAREUS

so that’s it! and we still don’t have any idea what AFO is actually planning to do now, after all of that. are they going to merge bodies?? or is he going to try to switch with him?? either way Tomura’s body has to be part of the plan somehow since he keeps making so much of a fuss over it. flkhglkhlk. dammit I need answers lol

[ouma-kichi]

hello hello!! could i request some clingy hcs for shuichi, hajime, and kokichi? gender neutral or male s/o preferably!! if this isn’t specific enough then i can send in an ask again,, thank you have a good day!!

hello hello !!! i luv this hehe male readers r my fav and there is def not enough of them on this site !

Clingy Shuichi Saihara, Hajime Hinata, and Kokichi Ouma x Male!Reader Headcanons

Info/Warnings: sooo i didn’t know if u meant like the character is clingy or if the reader is clingy so ima do both hehehe, no warnings i think, reader is male !!

Shuichi Saihara:

if he’s the clingy one, he def tries SO hard not to show it bc he gets sooo embarrassed by it it’s so cute

he’s just so drawn to you, you’re so interesting and you make him feel so loved all the time so ! he just wants to spend all his time with you but he gets nervous that you’ll think he’s creepy or that you’ll be annoyed by how clingy he is

i always love the idea that he observes and remembers your daily/weekly schedule ! and any time you’re walking to work or class, he always looks for you bc he remembers that one time you told him the path you take bc mannnnn he never wants to spend time apart

sometimes he purposefully tries to stay home or give you space so you don’t think he’s weird, but you just tell him like “why didnt u walk wit me today ;(” and his heart just EXPLODES

like !!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW HE ACTUALLY LIKES THAT I REMEMBER EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM

plus it really really hurts his heart to not be with you like so so so so bad

so once he knows you won’t be weirded out by him, he tries to never ever leave your side

but when you do have to be apart, he def brings you your favorite foods or your favorite types of flowers afterwards, just bc you mentioned it once and he wants to show that he missed you SO MUCH okokok ?!?!?

he’ll see the chocolates you like or he’ll see that the florist is selling your favorite flower and he just goes “that’s his favorite... i think it’d make him happy if i bought this for him !! i’ll give it to him when i go to the park he always walks through !!!”

but if you’re the one who’s clingyyyy ohhhhhhhhh boyyyy he just doesn’t know what to do with himself  !!!

he gets so so blushy bc he’s already nervous and not rlly used to these types of feelings so when you’re basically following him around like a lost puppy he’s just. amazed that you feel that way about him...

you’ll be like “shushu.. come cuddle with me today pleassseeeeee don’t leaveeee” and he just. melts into a lil blushy puddle on the floor

bc you don’t want him to go EVER EVER EVERRR you obvi gotta spend all your time together duhh

you always demand to walk him to school or to work (omg gentlemanly reader asf), holding his hand so tight or linking your arms together

his face gets so red when you hug him or kiss him goodbye !! bc you just make it last so long your lil clingy ass omg

on his doorstep you just hug him for like 5 whole minutes bc you don’t want him to go :(((((

and he really doesn’t wanna go either ;((

at night when you’re cuddling you just grip him so hard, and in the morning you just hold him even tighter so he can’t leave your grasp

but really he’s okay with it, because he doesn’t wanna leave your grasp either

Hajime Hinata:

CLINGY HAJIME IS SO BASED

he’s ... very quiet about it .. idk he’s just a normal lil boy

he has this cute way of just begging you to stay because he just... looks so sad when you tell him you have to leave for a little :(

so you simply don’t leave !

he just has cute puppydog eyes okayyyy and i don’t think he would say anything he would just hug you super tight and not let you go

but sometimes you gotta go so when you say goodbye he always makes sure to nuzzle his face into your neck and mutter how much he’s gonna miss you awwwww he so cute like dat

unlike shuichi who goes out of his way to find you during your day, hajime simply waits for you to come back bc he doesn’t wanna impose or anything

but he thinks about you so much during the day like he’ll just be sitting at his desk alone and be thinking “man........ when does he get back i miss him he should come home soon” HES JUST SO LOVESICK

and he’d be too nervous to leave voicemails or call you or anything because he doesn’t wanna disturb you, you just gotta know that he misses you really bad

but then when you come home !!!! HE BASICALLY RUNS TO THE DOOR and he waits for you to hug him first to make sure it’s okay

like it’s not that he’s scared to be clingy or something, he’s just kinda awkward and he doesn’t wanna force himself on you or something

so when you get home you havta hug him first, after that he will never let you go ever ever

if you’re the clingy one OMG HE WOULD NEVER LEAVE YOU

he would just feel so bad leaving you when you just wanna cling to him so tight !! awkward lil man he doesn’t want you to be sad okay :(

plus he thinks its v cute that you want him to stay so badly, he gets super blushy and looks away a lot bc he gets sososo flustereddd

you two will be hugging and he’ll just think “well if he doesn’t want me to go, i guess i shouldn’t go” .....so he simply does not go

it’s not like he feels like he’s being forced, he just knows you would be happier if he stayed with you ! and he likes to see you happy all the time sooo

you’ll be like babyyy please dont go and he’ll just go red and silently go to wrap his arms around you

his thought process is basically hmmm well he wont let go of me.. this is the perfect excuse to not leave him anyways

so he always stays

Kokichi Ouma:

man oh man

he’s such a little baby okay hes just so....

if he’s the clingy one you better be prepared for the waterworks constantly !!!

like if you guys are cuddling, with him like laying on your chest or you’re wrapped up in each others arms, and you get up to like go get food or use the bathroom he will fall to the ground and INSTANTLY START SOBBING

“WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME DON’T LEAVE ME YOU DON’T LOVE ME ANYMORE????? YOU WANNA BREAK UP WITH ME ????? DON’T LEAVE ME FOREVER”

he’ll follow you around or just ... hold on to your leg when you’re trying to walk away

if you get up from bed he will literally be latched onto your arm, to the point where you end up dragging him off the bed

which obviously just makes him start crying again

“YOU JUST LET ME FALL YOU DIDN’T WANNA TOUCH ME ANYMORE SO YOU JUST THREW ME TO THE GROUND LIKE THAT YOU’RE BEING SO MEAN TO ME”

he just exaggerates so much like damn, any time you leave obviously has to mean you want to break up with him

it sucks when you actually need to get stuff done because he just wants all your attention to be on him >:O wtf do you think you’re doing not giving him constant undying attention !!!!!!!!

it’s fine though bc you (being the whipped mf you are) will just... drop everything you have to do just to cuddle with him and give him kisses

because honestly you have no other choice, he will literally beg the entire time for kisses you can’t even listen to your lectures or do work because he will be in your ear the ENTIRE TIME

honestly i can’t see a scenario where you’re the clingy one and he’s not, like i think if you’re clingy he would just also be clingy

which is kinda perfect i think

neither of you wanna leave so why should you have to...

you’ll be like “kichi don’t go pleasee baby” and he’ll be like “WHY would  i even do that idiot fool dummy”

unless he wants to prank you where he’ll pretend he’s too busy for you rn, which makes you get all sad and start going nooo babyyyy pleasseeee can you make time for meeee ?!?!??????? and he’ll do his gay little laugh and be like GOTCHA YOU THOUGHT I ACTUALLY WAS TOO BUSY FOR YOU LMAOOO

he’s so annoying omfg so you just jump on him immediately which is fine bc he wants you even if he lies about it

don’t even think about spending any amount of time apart bc both of you will JUST FORCE YOURSELVES TOGETHER

you two gotta go to school? well at least one of you is skipping, honestly probably both

you have a family thing you can’t get out of? he will just .. coincidentally also find his way there for some reason

i swear it’s like you two can’t stay away from each other he’s just so obsessed with you and you are equally as obsessed

so it’s kinda perfect

why would you wanna leave each other alone ANYWAY??