#questions about it does help me tho

[sandeewithtwoe]

Man I just realized. Now that I’m making an AU, I can basically say dumb shit about it and everyone is gonna take it as canon.

If I say something like… “Undersales Sans becomes a drag queen after the happy ending”, everybody is gonna believe me. That’s so much power…

[rebloggiedoggie]

can't stop accidentally spoiling myself disco elysium bc every single fanart i see of this game is soul rendingly beautiful and important to me

[strangersteddierthings]

Porcelain Steve - Part 6

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

Even though he's expecting company, Eddie still jumps and yelps when his front door flies open without so much as a knock, revealing Dustin and Will.

"I know I said to let yourselves in, but a warning knock would have been nice," Eddie shoots them a glare, not bothering to stand from the couch where he'd been pretending to watch whatever terrible daytime movie was playing.

"Sorry," Will apologizes sheepishly while Dustin just laughs.

"Which of your moms dropped you off? If it's Claudia, I'm filing a complaint about how you were raised."

"Har har," Dustin says, swinging his backpack off and knelling down to unzip and dig into it. "We biked here."

"Lucky you, then. The complaint will wait."

Dustin wrestles a blanket from his backpack. Unwrapping it reveals Steve, hair rumpled but otherwise unharmed. "Alright. Delivered safely. We gotta go meet El and Mike now but we'll see you on Saturday, right?"

Eddie sets Steve on the couch, angled towards the TV. "Yeah. I get the feeling if I don't show for the barbeque that Joyce will show up here and drag me there by my ear."

"She would," Will confirms with an easy shrug. The boys turn to leave before Will exclaims, "Oh! Almost forgot!" before digging into his pocket for something, turning around to give it to Eddie.

"What?"

"El and Steve spoke again. He had a lot of things to say. I spent a good portion of the last three days writing down everything as El repeated it to me. This is your letter," he says, having successfully pulled out what looked to be a folded piece of paper out of his pocket.

"Oh," Eddie takes it, and realizes it's not just one folded piece of paper, but three. "Wow."

"Seems you are Steve's second favorite," Dustin grins at him from the doorway.

"You are first, I assume?"

"No. Robin is. She got five pages."

That tracks, actually. Eddie's not surprised Robin got the most pages.

Soon enough, the boys are off and Eddie returns to the couch, pulling his legs up to sit crisscross. "Alright, Stevie, let's see what you have to say."

He unfolds the pages completely and is met with Will's now familiar penmanship scrawled across the sheets of wide rule paper that has clearly been ripped from a composition notebook. He's seen Will's handwriting plenty over this last year, quickly scribbling notes during DnD sessions and on the little item cards Will makes himself to hand out when he DMs.

Will's handwriting isn't always the neatest, but this looks like Will took time, wanted his writing to be legible. Flipping through the papers he sees it is two pages, front and back, of a letter, and the third page is a list of questions in a different, neater handwriting. He gets the feeling that Will probably didn't paraphrase anything. How many people got letters? How much of Will and El's time was devoted to doing just this?

Eddie feels emotional over this, misty-eyed and a lump in his throat, and he hasn't even read the damn letter yet.

"Shit, Stevie, do you even realize how loved you are?" Eddie asks out loud, turning to look at Porcelain Steve like he might answer him this time. Blank hazel eyes stare forward. Eddie shakes his head, to clear away his thoughts, and gets to reading. Not out loud, because he doesn't want Steve to hear how wet his voice will sound.

Eddie,

I guess the first thing I want to say is thank you. I was kind of freaking out when I first woke up like this. It was calming, that day on the lawn, after Robin and Nancy found me. You were so chill and just chatted my ear off like you would have if I were, like, there. I mean, there there and not like, doll-there, if you get what I mean.

Shit, man, being stuck like this would have been a hell of a lot worse without you, I'm certain. Everyone's been great, of course, and, like, no offense meant, Will and El, but you act most normal. Helps me feel, well, I don't know how, exactly. Describing emotions is not something I'm like, good at. Robin's great, too, but she catastrophizes, you know? And since I can't speak back, she can get herself pretty worked up about this and I hate that. Hate that I can't do anything to help her.

Shit. This isn't your issue. Don't include that. No, wait, do. Sorry, El. (It is here, off in the margin, that Will has added 'I wrote everything word for word. Enjoy the asides to El and me.) Hanging out with you helps her, I think. She seems less anxious on days we spend with you. So, I guess, I also want to thank you for that. For being there for Robin when I can't.

Eddie has to pause there because he had no idea. Robin has been a grounding force for him this whole time. He had no idea he was doing the same for her. She never said, or let on... well, that was probably her goal and now Steve's spilled the beans.

This is getting easier to say, even if I still don't know how to feel about the other two people who are going to be privy to everything said, or I guess from your end, written here. (Here, Will has transcribed a conversation they seemed to have had in the middle of writing this up.) Oh. He means us. - El Yes. Don't worry Steve, we'll do our best to forget everything you've said once it's written down. - Will Steve laughed and says thanks. - El I appreciate that but- well, being honest there's some things I want to say but I don't want anyone else to hear. Those conversations are better left face to face, anyway. So, uhh, what else did I want to say?

Oh! Yeah, I told Robin she could drive around the Bimmer, so she can have a car while I'm- so she doesn't have to bike everywhere but knowing her she probably won't take me up on that offer. Maybe you can talk her into it? Or, maybe she'll be willing to drive your van around and you can take the bimmer.

"Jesus, Stevie, can't you just be okay with existing?" Eddie says it under his breath and tenses instantly. For a moment, he forgot that Steve was right there on the couch with him, could hear him. Now he has to explain himself because Steve's already heard, and without the context of how Eddie really means those words, they can sound judgmental. "Shit. Sorry. I just read the part about your car and, dude, you just don't know how to not try and be helpful, huh? I bet it's destroying you on the inside that you can't do anything. But Steve, you gotta know, we don't care about you because you're useful."

Steve, of course, can't reply, so Eddie goes back to the letter.

Uh, what else was there? Oh! Yeah! I don't get migraines here. Or, in this body? Or, whatever it is. I haven't had one since this happened. Also, no hearing issues. Though I find myself wishing to be completely deaf sometimes. I get that Max can listen to Kate Bush for a week straight, but I'd like a little variety. God, what I wouldn't give to listen to the Top 40 again. Don't say anything, Munson. I can already see your judgmental face at my music taste. Unlike you, I have the ability to like multiple types of music. The Top 40 AND that one song from, uhh, shit. Might not have migraines or hearing issues at the moment, but the memory is still as it was. Which means it is shit. That one song by that metal band where their name sounds like it's metal? You know who I mean. (In the margin, Will has just written five little question marks in a row ?????)

"The band you were thinking of, it's Metallica," Eddie says.

Not important. But, uh, the reason for telling you this. I was hoping you might smuggle me to a show the next time your band plays at the Hideout? Last time I tried to go it was too loud and gave me a migraine, you remember, but I think that I could listen to your whole show like this. We might as well take advantage of the perks of this shit situation, right? So, uh, I wouldn't mind if you did that. Or, like, had Robin or someone else bring me. Whichever.

Actually, wait, I lied, I do care which way. I've already had them pen down Robin's letter, so you'll have to pass this on, but I want Robin to take me. So, I can also watch the show, not just listen. That was the part I liked most, when I went last time, before I had to leave. Wait. Scratch that. Ask Argyle. Other than you, he seems like the only person willing to be caught holding me in public, mostly because I don't think he even knows how to be embarrassed. Jesus that was such a weird sentence to say. Holding me in public. Such a weird thing to experience, too.

Uh, anyway, I think that's it for now. Thanks for everything, Eddie.

"I think you're handling this loss of bodily autonomy rather well, Steve. This letter is a lot more positive than the one I would have written if our roles were reversed," Eddie says with a sigh. He can't help but wonder what Steve would have said in this letter if it hadn't had to be filtered through two teenagers first.

He looks to the last page, the list of questions, and is surprised to see that, mixed in with questions about which sports team is winning (he is not going to watch Sportsball for Steve. There has to be a line drawn somewhere and this is it. He will ask Wayne about it later and hate the glee he sees in his uncle's eyes because now he's going to have to pretend to like sports for the unforeseeable future) and for honest updates about their friends are questions about Eddie's campaign that he's rambled on about since Steve can't escape. Steve wants spoilers, wants to know what Eddie has planned.

Steve has actually been listening. He'd been operating on the assumption Steve just tunes him out when he gets going, unable to stop his brain to mouth filter when it comes to talking about Dungeons and Dragons and his current campaign.

"I'm at your list of questions now. I can't answer anything about sports, and don't think I'm unaware of how you asked me and not Lucas. I see what you are doing and I'm not going to fall for it. So, your first non-sportsball question here; How is Dustin doing, really? Well, that's a whole thing but overall, okay."

[seventh-district]

“Why’s he call you Darlin’?”

on my knees begging my brain to stop trying to associate this song with Sam

[elysiumcalled]

Next time somebody at work asks if I can help I’m just saying no idfc anymore

[orcelito]

Also I got my essay exam back today. Full points!!! Which was a surprise bc my 4th essay was definitely lower quality than the other three (bc I rushed it), but still good enough to get full points!!!!

Makes me wonder what that other one I spied being a 1 was like 🤔🤔🤔 bro was NOT good at writing I guess.

[ruairy]

.

[hauntingblue]

Evangelion movie hello

[digitald0rk]

TEAR YOU APART

pairing : sinister! mark grayson x afab! florist reader.

synopsis : in which mark discovers your dirty little secret and decides to help you recreate it in real time.

(18+) warnings : kidnapping. nasty petty perv mark. allusions to cannibalism. mention of kinda gory violence. hair pulling. biting. mean name calling duh. giving each other head. p in v unprotected sex. creampies. marathon sex as in multiple orgasms. squirting. overstimulation . . . ++ just really nasty smut lol [ all consentual though! you two are freaks like in capital FREAKS ]

w.c : 5.5k.

notes : erm. yeah idk what possessed me to write this but lemme know what you think ! it's my first time writing smut this long and detailed [ my search history is crazy rn lol ]. let's just say this takes place in sinister mark's universe before he starts acting like a murder machine and all, so yeah :] again interactions are always appreciated, also do let me know if you think there's any warning i should add!

taglist : @vm4879bb-blog [ for the others, i wasn't sure if you guys would be okay being tagged in a fic like this so i didn't, let me know if you wanna be added tho :p ]

now on ao3 too!

he's going to kill something, or someone.

“oh yeah this? my boyfriend got it for me!”

he hears you talk about him, your lover, everyday and it annoys him deeply, the subtle furrow of his eyebrows barely noticeable but definitely there — sometimes a twitch of his eye, clear cracks in his carefully constructed facade give away his irritation if you choose to look closely.

“that reminds me, this one time he-”

he loves that pretty voice of yours — dare he say, he's grown fond of it, but he wants to shut you up forever whenever your boyfriend's name leaves your lips.

mark wants his name to be on your tongue — to be said with the same love and fondness that accompanies the name of your lover.

he tried, he really did, to give you signs — a squeeze of your hand there, a stare that can practically undress you on its own. but it seems you're oblivious to it all, or you're playing hard to get, either way his patience is running thin.

he'll get what he wants. just you wait.

every time he visits your little shop, it smells like flowers mixed with your perfume, that sweet and sugary scent with just a hint of citrus — he had asked you about the perfume you wore during his third visit, bought it the same day so he could finally get off because his imagination wasn't enough at this point, that kept him somewhat satisfied for a bit, but it wasn't nearly enough.

so when he stopped by next time, not even buying flowers to play along with whatever this is, he asked you, “where do you buy your clothes?”

you blink a couple times, clearly taken aback back by the sudden question but nonetheless, answer him — although you're not quite sure what to make of his disheveled hair and blown out pupils.

here he is, acting like a feral dog in heat, buying anything and everything that he can at the shops you frequent that resembles your clothes. and when he's back at home, he's spraying them with the perfume you always wear, rutting like a madman into the mattress as he mouths at a pink shirt — the same one you own and the one you were wearing when he first saw you, his drool leaking and staining the shirt as he holds it close to his mouth and closing his eyes, your scent surrounding him as he suckles on the chest area of the shirt, imagining it's your chest instead which has him groaning and cumming in his pants. that keeps him going for another week or so.

next thing he knows, he's acting on pure instinct and his desires — snapping photos of your panties underneath your little skirts like a fucking pervert, looking them up online so he could order them and make a mess of them. and he does, he stains each and everyone of those panties with his hot, thick cum and sometimes his spit when he imagines eating your pretty pussy out. his desires however continue to only grow.

he visits your little shop, like he always does, mentally preparing himself to not grab your throat and shove you down to make you shut up if he hears about your stupid boyfriend again.

he's being nice, can't you see? you should be thankful.

mark sees a new ring on your finger, the small silver zircon on it shining underneath the sunlight, he wonders if it's another gift from your boyfriend.

the thought leaves a bitter taste behind, regardless, he maintains his usual aloof facade, waiting for you to finish wrapping up his bouquet that he's going to end up tossing away the next day — just like the other flowers he's bought from you, they don't compare to you or your beauty, he wants you, a flower that won't rot away once he's done playing with it.

surprisingly, you don't mention the name of a certain man who he wants dead and buried six feet deep but he doesn't comment on it, in fact, a small barely imperceptible smile tugs at his lips.

he's just about to leave your little flower heaven when he hears something that makes his heart, uncharacteristically skip a beat.

“yeah i heard, i’m so sorry,” a voice, which he recognizes as your friend speaks softly, sympathetically.

“yeah, i don't know what i was thinking,” you start, “the signs were there, i just never thought he'd cheat like that,” you blink away the forming tears, “i trusted him.”

he stops dead in his tracks. that bastard cheated on you? he'll make him pay for being the reason you cry, although your tears do make his cock twitch in his pants. he'll lick them off of your face if you let him, god he really wants to.

should he simply keep your boyfriend to torture? he's sure he could lure you in with it, after all you are way too sweet for your own good.

he'll slowly tear each of his limbs apart, making sure the man hears his bones cracking and skin ripping, he'll make that fucker bleed to death. hell, he'd even record those painful, agonizing sounds that your ex would cry out, he's sure you'd cry more if he lets you hear them, maybe he just wants to see you cry — though he's sure you'll do that when you choke on his cock.

he snaps out of his little fantasy when the bell rings, indicating the opening of the door — another customer in, he sighs. he's losing it, he's not sure how much he can withstand not having you with him. but he's trying, for you.

for the sweetest girl who he can't wait to devour.

with his restraint hanging on by a thread, he steps out of your shop, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists by his sides. he needs to have you.

and that restraint finally snaps the next day when he discovers that his favorite florist is a fucking freak.

as you're tending to customers — clearly overwhelmed by their number as valentine’s day is approaching and flowers are definitely a safe option for your partner, his eyes stay locked on your laptop's screen that you had put on one of the small tables, lid only half closed, his eyes frantically scan over some of the words as he fully opens the screen, trying to stay out of your vision.

he quickly decides to go somewhere where there aren't so many people so he could take a look inside his sweet girl's sick mind. and with that he skillfully slips outside — he feels awfully excited, sneaking into the small bathroom of some shop.

and with each click of the cursor and another tab opening, he learns your most depraved, disgusting fantasies — the kind of porn you're into, your kinks and fetishes, the smut you read, all of it.

he even stumbles upon a small blog you run, oh now we're talking. each lewd image or post you've reblogged, followed by some words of “wish that was me rn”, has him hard. and these date back before your break up, meaning your boyfriend was definitely not keeping you satisfied and that has him grinning like a maniac.

oh he'll give you what you want.

he shamelessly palms himself when he finds your dairy entry with his name, rambling about how you feel guilty fantasizing about him ruining you. he would've cum right then and there if it weren't for the knocking on the door, “hey man, you mind hurrying it up?”

oh right he's still in a bathroom and not in you, like he should be.

he manages to sneak your laptop back in, thanking the absurd amount of customers mentally which helped him go in and out without raising suspicion.

he can't take it anymore, it's only been a couple hours since he's discovered your filthy secret and also saw you tearing up earlier because of that asshole who broke your heart.

he knows he's a hypocrite — he doesn't care for your dumb feelings and your big heart, okay well maybe that's a lie.

it is a lie.

and there are definitely these feelings that he refuses to acknowledge but still, the only reason why you should be crying is because of him fucking your brains out.

and so he waits, like a predator waiting to pounce — he holds his breath, watching as the sun sets and you lock up your shop, ready to go home and get some sleep but your plans are interrupted as a hand sneaks up behind you with some sort of cloth, muffling your panicked noises and before you know it you're knocked out.

it takes you hours to gain your consciousness back, eyes all heavy and mind disoriented you blink, once. then twice, your eyes widen and your mouth suddenly feels too dry. you're all tied up to a cold hard metal chair, you're only in your bra and panties, the rope is too tight, it's constricting and will definitely leave behind angry marks on your skin.

standing before you is one of your regular customers, mark. you stare at him, dumbfounded — eyes darting around to look for an escape okay to see a single door, desk and some chairs, panic settles in your bones, the coldness of the room does nothing to soothe your nerves.

you mindlessly try to shift around, a desperate attempt that leaves you wincing in pain — the friction of the thick black rope burning against your skin.

you try to speak, but nothing comes out, only a small choked sob — looking at him with those wide eyes which are brimming with tears that are oh so close to spilling and staining your cheeks, you look utterly helpless. the sight alone makes him excited.

he takes a deep breath, he wants to take his time with you, savor you. but goddamnit, if you keep looking at him like that he's sure he'll end up doing the opposite of that.

“open your mouth,” he commands, leaving no room for argument and you hate the way it sends a shiver down your spine and a throb to your core. 

you hesitantly open your mouth, with his back turned to you — doing god knows what, you try screaming for help, it is a weak attempt that makes him chuckle, “no one's going to hear you sweetheart,” he coos mockingly, “i suggest you play along if you wish to live.”

he's not joking, his voice makes it clear. 

so you reluctantly keep your mouth opened, hot tears falling down — lucky for you, he's being nice, at least for now because he brings a glass of water, holding your jaw and pouring the water in your mouth, some of it spills, the coldness of it on your bare skin making you shiver — but you swallow all he gives hastily, hoping it really is just water.

you sputter a bit of the water out onto him in surprise when he licks a stream of you tears away, his tongue hot against your skin and his spit leaving a shiny trail on your cheek. scared, that he'll hurt you because of what you've just done, you close your eyes shut as if the mere action would actually rewind back time and do something for you.

he laughs, loudly.

god, you're adorable. he could just eat you up.

“are you scared of me?” he asks, knowing damn well it's a pointless question but the genuine fear in your eyes has him reeling with joy and a desire only you, his sweetheart, can fulfill.

he puts the now empty glass of water back on a small table, “you know, you look real pretty like this,” he starts, dragging a chair to sit across you, “but i bet you'd look real pretty without anything on.”

you don't answer, you don't know how to. your eyes are still looking around the big room for any exits, any openings — he smiles at your desperation, it's cute really.

“or maybe you'd look even prettier with some blood on you hm?” his tone although amused is firm enough to leave you unsure if he's being serious or not, he drags a finger across your belly, “what if i make a cut right here?”

you immediately shake your head, trying to speak but he shuts you up by pinching one of your hard nipples through your bra, your protests die down into a small whimper — the sound has him grinning from ear to ear.

his eyes glint with something sinister that has you both scared and turned on. “i know you want this slut,” he holds your jaw harshly.

shame settles in your bones as you realize he's right.

“don't play coy sweet girl i saw all of it,” when you give him a confused look, he continues, “that little blog of yours, that disgusting shit you're into.”

oh fuck.

he sees the look of absolute horror mixed with embarrassment on your face and he tuts like he's disappointed, “dirty girl,” like he isn't the one who literally kidnapped you here.

“i don't know what you're talking about,” you both know you're lying, but sure he'll play along if that's what you want — he's feeling good today.

he reaches for your bag and rips it open — a clear display of who's still in charge here and how he definitely could kill you in an instant.

mark opens your laptop and asks you the password. you don't tell him at first as if that would change anything.

“i asked you a simple question,” he walks closer to you, grips your shoulder hard enough to make you regret your words, “or do i need to rip something else for you to answer me hm?” his grip tightens and you know he's not playing around, your voice shakes as you give him the four number pin, breathing heavily when he lets go of his hard bruising grip on your shoulder.

“good girl,” fuck him, he's doing this on purpose now! and the smug look on his face only confirms your suspicions.

he shows you the deepest, filthiest fantasies of yours that you keep tucked in your laptop, away from the world.

“what's wrong? don't pretend you're not dripping wet right now.”

again, he's not wrong.

“why are you doing this?” you ask him, still struggling a bit against the ropes that bind you.

“i wanna give you what you want,” he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. he also wants to make you forget about your ex boyfriend, but he's not admitting that, jealousy is a weakness. and one that he suffers from immensely.

“you what-”

“drop the act,” he huffs, irritation visible in the way his eyebrows furrow. “just admit it already. you're a sick disgusting pervert who goes prancing around like she's not thinking of having her holes filled,” he tugs at your hair to keep your head up, his eyes dark with lust boring right into yours.

“are you crazy? you fucking kidnapped-”

he cuts you off again, “so you don't want this?”

silence.

“i’ll untie you right now and let you leave, just tell me you want to leave.”

silence, again.

you're not fooling anybody.

“yeah that's what i thought,” he let's go of your hair, “the safe word is-” he mutters your ex’s name and before you can even comment on the sheer absurdity of it all, he's ripping your panties away from your throbbing pussy, groaning at the sight of your glistening wet folds, all needy just for him.

he quickly pockets the ripped panties. pervert.

“look at this needy cunt, all for me hm?” he muses aloud, spreading your legs apart and breaking apart the ropes that tried to interfere with his ministrations. he shakily inhales when he sees your arousal slowly spill out — you're so fucking wet. his heated gaze leaving goosebumps on your skin.

he presses a chaste kiss to your folds, practically salivating as he breathes you in — he's gonna end up cumming in his pants, he's dreamt of this exact moment for so long.

he gathers a considerable amount of saliva in his mouth before spitting it onto your neglected cunt which twitches at the action, the sight is downright filthy and it makes you moan.

he wastes no time — getting on his knees, licking a strip up your slit before devouring your pussy like a man starved for days, shamelessly rutting into the chair you're sitting on at your taste. you taste so good, he wants to drown in it.

he's messy and loud, your hands are still tied behind your back so you can't push his head away and grip his hair when he attacks your clit with his tongue, sucking on it relentlessly. your hips lift up and buck into his face, your noises only getting louder as he fucks his tongue into your warm wet hole. he moans at the feeling of your thighs squeezing around his head and nearly suffocating him — your walls clenching around his tongue as you cry out his name in utter pleasure.

he shoves two of his thick fingers in without any warning — a surprised small squeal leaving your lips, while his tongue works in torturous circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves and eagerly licking between your folds. your pretty whimpers are music to his ears.

clearly overwhelmed with pleasure, you make a pathetic attempt to squirm away from his touch, which earns you a harsh smack to your thigh followed by a bite — his teeth dig into your flesh, leaving behind bruising marks that will sting for days, the line between pain and pleasure blurring.

a familiar feeling settles in your belly, it only builds up as he continues to go down on you. “mark! mark! i'm i’m-” you try warning him, but his fingers only speed up, he sucks harshly on your clit, holding your hips down when you cum — your body shaking, crying out his name oh so sweetly, he wants to hear it again and again, until the only word you know is his name.

he doesn't pull away from your cunt though, drinking up every bit of your release and arousal that you offer — holding you down and forcing you to submit to the relentless pleasure he's giving you, moaning into your pussy like he's having the best meal of his life.

he doesn't let you rest, inserting another finger in — easily massaging that sweet spot that you can't reach as easily as he does.

“oh fuck!” you whine out loud, when he keeps overstimulating your poor pussy, the squelching wet noises only increasing as he eats you out. he loves the way your brain is turning to mush, mindlessly babbling his name along with your sweet noises.

and when you cum again, he still doesn't stop. 

you've lost count of how many orgasms you've had at this point, body too sensitive and shaking almost like a leaf.

with eyes brimming with seemingly never ending tears, vision practically blurry from the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, it doesn't take him long to bring you to the edge again — except this time you end up squirting all over his pretty face, a surprised noise leaves your mouth as your body jolts hardly.

he finally pulls away. a small moan leaves your lips as you take in the sight in front of you.

mark grayson, on his knees, face all wet and drenched in your juices and his spit, breathing heavily — looking at you like he's going to eat you alive.

he's breathing really heavily, your dazed state makes it hard for you to comprehend things but you can clearly see the big wet spot on his pants. he came — from just eating you out.

“messy fucking slut,” he spanks your already oversensitive pussy making you hiss and cry out, body still quivering and twitching from that intense release.

he pushes your legs apart again, spreading your pussy open for him to see, he mutters a curse under his breath as he sees remnants of your release clinging onto the sensitive skin. he needs to get up before he ends up eating you out — as much as he would love to do that, he can't wait much longer, he needs to be buried inside that sweet cunt of yours and make you see stars.

he gets up from his knees. grabbing your hair, mark makes you lick his face clean, you taste yourself on his face and feel yourself getting worked up again. “good fucking girl, gonna put that mouth to better use, just you wait,” his hand reaches down to pinch your clit, laughing when you let out a small pained noise.

he hastily tears away your bra, the fabric discarded somewhere on the cold floor. he pinches and lightly grazes his nails against the perked up sensitive buds, making you squirm and let out small whimpers — it stings, but it also gets you insanely wet.

“look at that, pretty pussy’s practically begging to be fucked,” he bites down on your shoulder, a pained groan escapes your mouth and he bites harder, pulling away to admire the mark his teeth left.

you barely have time to look at the new addition of marks he's left on your body so far, before he's untying your hands behind your back, taking your wrists into his and pulling you down. you stumble a bit at the harsh tug — legs practically jelly from all those orgasms.

he draws you closer by your arms, manhandling you easily so you're sitting in between his open legs — the cold floor against your warm body.

“take it off,” he commands, gesturing to his pants. you hesitantly take them off, his ruined boxers coming into vision.

he's an impatient man, he always gets what he wants.

mark grabs a fistful of your hair and forces your head down onto his clothed — aching cock, making his impatience very clear.

“dumb bitch, can't do anything herself,” his tone demeaning, shutting up your protests by shoving his thumb in your mouth. he lifts his hips up to finally free himself of his boxers, his cock standing up — bobbing and leaking with pre. you gulp, eyes flitting back over to his face.

he lets out a small moan as you gather some of your saliva to spit on his hard cock, licking teasingly up his length over one of his prominent veins.

“don't be a fucking tease,” he takes ahold of your jaw harshly, tugging your tongue out before you can close your mouth — that he can't wait to be in and spits on your tongue, making you swallow it, before shoving you back a bit.

he pushes your hair out of your face so he could watch you better, the gesture so sweet and gentle — it makes you almost forget how mean he's been.

you slowly start pushing his length into your mouth, “thaaat's right, take it like the good slut you are,” his words die down into a groan as he feels your tongue swirl around his sensitive tip.

he's being nice for once, letting you take your time, your head bobs up and down as you suck him off while your hands jerk the rest of his cock that you can't fit in your mouth, tongue working against his sensitive spots.

but your mouth feels so good, so warm, so wet — his hips jerk up involuntarily, making you gag and tear up at the burn you feel at the back of your throat.

you look so pretty like this, those pretty lips wrapped around his cock, eyes glassy — don't blame him for wanting to ruin you when you look like that.

he pulls himself out of your mouth slightly — just to make sure he doesn't end up cumming too soon, before shoving himself back in, moaning in pleasure at the sensations he feels. you keep sucking, forcing all of him in your mouth, almost choking on his cock, some drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth, but it's worth it — worth those small whimpers and grunts he lets out, ones he can't hold back because of how good he feels right now, all because of you.

and when your hand reaches down to lightly toy with his balls, cupping them, he shivers and lets out a low moan of your name, without a proper warning his cock twitches in your mouth and he cums, hard — flooding your mouth with his thick salty release.

you try to swallow as much as you can but it's too much, however, mark being the fucking asshole he is, forces your head back down on his twitching cock and pinches your nose shut making it hard to breathe.

he breaks into a full blown laugh. oh how he loves the way your eyes water up — that panicked expression on your face as you struggle to breathe, some of his cum leaking out your pretty mouth, squirming and still trying to push him away. it only turns him on more, “it's rude to talk with your mouthful,” he quips, holding your gaze.

he lets you go finally and you pull him out of your mouth quickly, throat already feeling sore — you cough, wiping away his cum and your spit from your face with the back of your hand.

“you should've seen the look on your face,” he chuckles darkly — clearly pleased with himself, shifting closer to you to pin you down, wasting no time shoving his tongue in your mouth, messily kissing you. he lets you pull off his shirt, his hips buck a little when you start feeling him up.

he can taste himself on your tongue and god that only adds to his growing arousal.

he pulls away a little so he can start biting and sucking down your neck, his other hand sneaking down to tease your pussy — tracing circles onto your clit, he grinds against you, “gonna fucking ruin you for everyone else,” he bites your earlobe, tugging on it, his fingers moving to tease your other hole, “gonna make sure this fucking pussy is always full of me,” he slaps your pussy, making you cry out his name.

he quickly aligns himself with your wet entrance, taking a deep breath before nudging his tip in — shoving it all in one go, making you tremble in both pain and pleasure that'll build over time, “come on i know you can take it, isn't this what you wanted?” he coos mockingly, pressing sloppy wet kisses to your face, licking your face like some fucking dog, leaving your face covered in his spit.

as soon as your muscles relax the tiniest bit he's thrusting in and out of you like a madman — you yelp loudly, holding onto him for dear life, nails digging into his back.

“fuck- oh my god!”

the only sounds in the room are the fast wet sounds of him thrusting into you, your pussy squelching loudly at the action and your combined moans and whines.

your gummy walls clench around him harder with each thrust, his cock hitting that sweet spot so well it has you seeing stars, all you can think about is him.

“oh fuck,” he grunts into your ear when he feels you tighten around him, gripping him like a vice, “think she needs to be filled all nice and warm with my cum, don't you agree baby?” he accentuates each word with a harsh thrust, relishing the way your body writhes under him.

you nod mindlessly, desperate for that sweet release more than anything.

“aww what's wrong?” he leans down to suck on one of your nipples, pinching and toying with the other one — a choked out sob leaves your lips, you feel tears pooling in your eyes, you clench around him even harder, desperate to milk him for all he's worth. he lets out a whine when he sees the outline of his cock in your belly going in and out, fuck he's going to cum.

the movement his hips falter at the feeling of your pussy gripping him tightly, “oh fuck,” he breathes heavily, muscles tensing up a bit. he pulls out, moving you on your stomach, giving your ass an appreciative spank when you arch your back for him.

“guess she answered for you hm?”, he muses — pumping himself a few times before settling back into your warm needy cunt, “fucked too dumb to answer but can still arch your back like a needy whore? you're so fucking pathetic,” he licks over the opening of your little hole, an arm coming around to hold you in a headlock that has your vision blurry — in the best way possible. getting impatient, you try to fuck yourself back onto his length but he doesn't let you.

“nasty girl, i can feel you clenching around me” spank “you like it when i’m being mean hm?” spank “oh right you can't answer,” spank “not a thought behind those pretty eyes hm?” spank “don't worry, you don't have to think at all, you wouldn't have to, when i’m done with you.”

he starts rutting into you again, his filthy mouth doesn't stop as he dicks you down like his life depends on it. his arm around your neck — squeezing, leaving you dizzy as he pounds into you from behind like he's in heat, you've given up on trying to control your noises. he sneaks a hand down to pinch and toy with your clit — making your walls clench and toes curl and you cum for the nth time with almost a scream of his name, your body shakes vigorously as a result of your intense orgasm.

it doesn't take long for him to cum as well, especially with you screaming his name like that. with a few more sloppy thrusts he fills you up with his warm sticky white release, head thrown back as a soft whimper of your name is uttered out of his mouth.

breathing heavily, he makes sure to not waste a single drop — once again buries himself as deep as he can, admiring all the various marks that he has littered your skin with.

he pulls out after awhile, keeping your thighs apart with his rough calloused hands so he can see the sight of his cum mixed with yours leak out of your hole, shit, he's getting hard again.

he's honestly not sure if you can keep up — he doesn't want to end up hurting you- well you're his toy, nothing more than that he doesn't care if he hurts you, he really doesn't.

he wants to break you, ruin you. yeah, that's it.

his eyes definitely do not soften the slightest bit as he takes in your disheveled state, back still arched prettily for him, your ass red from all his spanking, skin battered with various marks, a proof of the intense passionate sex you two had.

but when you crane your head back, looking at him, “I can take it,” you're still trying to catch your breath, wincing a bit as you shift your body around, “give it to me mark,” you sound so sweet — swaying your hips side to side to make him give in and fill you up again.

you want him to break you.

and he does just that.

again and again, until he's sure your cunt remembers each vein and curve of his cock, stuffing your hole full to the brim each time.

so when your body finally gives out — almost passing out after another orgasm that he pulls out from you, lying on top of the only desk in the room as he drills into your cunt, he stops. pulling out and painting your tits with his release with a loud groan, his hair is sticking up in all different directions from the way you've kept pulling on it, body coated in a sheen layer of sweat — shaking as his chest heaves unevenly with each breath he takes just like yours.

he watches as your eyes close shut and you drift into a light slumber after a few minutes. his heart beating weirdly in an erratic manner, he chalks it up to the sex, although he has to admit he finds your sleepy face quite adorable, he may or may not want to hear that giggle again — the one you let out when he ended up cumming a little too fast when you praised him.

but he'll think about that when his face is not buried between your thighs, tongue sinking back into your folds — he can't get enough of you.

and with the way you whimper loudly, tugging on his hair oh so eagerly.

it seems like you can't get enough of him either.

so he'll indulge you to your heart’s content — maybe he'll save that video of him torturing your ex boyfriend and leaving him to die in a ditch for some other day.

© digitald0rk 2025. do not steal, repost or translate any of my work. want more? click here ★

[hoshifighting]

idk if someone asked you this but i’m a new reader and I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

can you please make wonwoo, the nerdy president who u thought was innocent and sweet but he’s the one behind ur fave nsfw audio creator???? AND HE’S A HARDFUCKER.. not what u expected tho..

i don’t know if i make sense but please pretty please 😭☝️

Synopsis: where you discover that the nerdy class president is the one man who creates the most nasty NSFW audios that you spend long nights listening to. WC: 2.8k WARNINGS: smut, audio porn, masturbation, hard fuck, dirty talk (obviously), bad sleeping habits (because of wonwoo), fingering, spanking, dirty talk, pussy eating, penetrative sex, protected sex, wonwoo whining, a lil invasion of privacy.

you’ve been running on fumes all day, the hazy buzz of sleep deprivation clinging to your brain like static. it’s no surprise, really. your night had gone the way it always does: you got home, flopped into your chair, threw on your headphones, and let onyx_lens—your favorite nsfw asmr creator—drag you under with that stupidly deep voice of his.

it was kind of pathetic, actually. you barely remember what the script was about—something about obedience or whatever—but you do remember the sound of his voice sinking into your brain like warm honey, making you cum so hard that you blacked the fuck out right after. now here you were, bleary-eyed and trying to stay upright in literature class, the regret of last night’s poor choices catching up with you.

wonwoo, the class president who was somehow both effortlessly chill and annoyingly observant, had been glancing at you every few minutes. you could feel his eyes on you as your head dipped forward for the third time, only to snap back up like a busted bobblehead.

but, in true wonwoo fashion, he didn’t say anything. no scolding, no judgmental sighs—just quiet observation.

when class finally ended, you were ready to yeet yourself into a nap for a solid 72 hours. you were shoving your stuff into your bag when wonwoo’s voice cut through the noise.

“you good?”

you froze. his voice wasn’t the same as onyx_lens’s, obviously, but it had that same deep, smooth timbre that made your brain short-circuit for a second. it didn’t help that his question sounded so much like something out of an nsfw script. you turned to face him, hoping your face wasn’t giving away how flustered you suddenly were. “uh—yeah,” you said, shaking your head a little too quickly. “just tired.”

wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “not sleeping well?”

your brain screamed. your tired, half-horny brain screamed louder. the overlap of his voice and onyx_lens in your head was un-fucking-bearable. you managed to nod, muttering something about late nights and deadlines, hoping he wouldn’t pry.

he didn’t, but his next question wasn’t much better.

“think you could help me with the sci-fi project? your last lit analysis was good, and i could use the extra pair of hands.”

you blinked at him. “me?”

he nodded, adjusting his glasses. “you. unless you’re too busy with...whatever’s keeping you up.”

oh, you mean my nightly sessions with onyx_lens and my vibrator?

you swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. “nah, i can help.”

and that’s how you found yourself standing outside wonwoo’s apartment later that evening, clutching your bag. his place was exactly what you’d expect from him—minimalist, neat, and smelling faintly of coffee.

“come in,” he said, holding the door open for you. “make yourself comfortable.”

easier said than done. you perched awkwardly on his couch as he set up his laptop on the coffee table, your eyes darting around the room in an attempt to ignore how nice his voice sounded in person.

“so,” he began, sitting across from you, “any ideas for the project?”

you cleared your throat, trying to focus. “uh, maybe something about robots and humanity? like, exploring ethical dilemmas or something.”

wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your skin heat. “good idea. we could tie that into the main themes from class.”

he leaned forward slightly, scrolling through a document on his laptop, and you couldn’t help but notice how his glasses slipped down his nose. you were so not prepared for this level of proximity or his stupidly deep voice.

“you okay?” he asked again, glancing at you.

you blinked, realizing you’d been staring. “yeah, just...thinking.”

his lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “good. let me know if you need a break or...anything.”

the way he said anything sent a shiver down your spine. you weren’t sure if it was exhaustion, residual arousal from last night, or the sheer presence of wonwoo in his element, but your brain was a mess.

you were supposed to be helping him with this project, but all you could think about was the way his voice would sound whispering in your ear, saying things that would make onyx_lens blush.

you were so close to winning the “most pathetic college student of the year” award it wasn’t even funny. after much back-and-forth with wonwoo, class president of your downfall, you somehow convinced him to let you walk home alone. except the man still went all soft and paid for a taxi anyway, which, like… thanks? but also stop being so nice, what the hell.

it was nearing 11 p.m. when you got home, and as if on cue, your phone pinged with a notification: onyx_lens’s weekly live is starting.

you stared at it for a second, blinking in disbelief. today’s theme? "neon circuits and orgasm denial (a cyberpunk experience) 8d audio"

sci-fi-themed. of fucking course.

you almost laughed at the audacity of the universe for this one. was this some sort of cosmic joke? was wonwoo onyx_lens?! no way. no goddamn way. you shook off the thought as delulu nonsense and dragged yourself to the bathroom for a quick sponge bath.

by the time you flopped into your chair, headphones on, the live was already in full swing. that voice—that stupidly deep, velvety voice—flooded your ears as the chat buzzed with unhinged comments. onyx purred, and you were done for.

you couldn’t even focus on the sci-fi plot he was spinning, something about rogue androids, monster cock, neon vibrators and human experimentation. his voice wrapped around you like a silk chokehold, and you were gone—just a vibrating mess in your chair, coming undone embarrassingly fast.

fast forward to the next morning: you woke up feeling like a used dishrag. again. headphones still on, your phone dead, and the memory of last night’s live replaying in your brain like a broken record.

by the time you dragged yourself to class, you were running on fumes and vibes. your hoodie was scrunched up around your face, making you look like a cross between a gremlin and an overgrown baby.

wonwoo noticed. you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried—and failed—to stay upright. you were so close to just giving in and laying flat on the floor. honestly, it might’ve been comfier than your chair at that point.

wonwoo, sitting two rows away, looked like he was internally debating whether to intervene or let you rot in peace. when the bell rang, you startled awake like you’d been electrocuted, nearly knocking your stuff off your desk in the process.

“you okay?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you shuffled out of the classroom like a zombie.

“i’m fine,” you mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie. “just need food. like, now.”

you detoured to the convenience store on the way to his apartment, snagging an entire kimbap roll and tearing into it like a starving animal. wonwoo followed behind, holding your water bottle with a look that was equal parts judgment and amusement.

“you couldn’t wait?” he asked, watching as you ate half the roll in one bite.

“bro,” you said around a mouthful of rice, “if i didn’t eat this, i was gonna pass out on the cold asphalt. your problem now, mr. class president.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, just handed you your water like the reluctant babysitter he was.

this was going to be a long afternoon.

you couldn’t help yourself. the suspicion had been eating away at you for weeks now, ever since you first heard his voice in class and that nagging sense of déjà vu set in. wonwoo had escaped to the bathroom, and you had the perfect opportunity to snoop.

your fingers hovered over his notebook, but then your gaze darted back to your own screen. back and forth, back and forth. his notebook. yours. the coincidences were piling up like a conspiracy wall in your head. the voice, the specific vocabulary choices, even the cadence—how did i not notice this earlier?!

“fuck it,” you whispered to yourself, grabbing his notebook and quickly pulling up the site where you normally streamed your favorite asmr creator. just to check. just to confirm your theory.

your heart pounded as the site loaded, every second dragging like molasses. the channel page opened, and at first, it seemed normal. too normal. you almost clicked away, feeling stupid for even suspecting anything.

but then you saw it: edit profile. analytics.

your breath caught, and a sharp scoff escaped you as you crossed your arms. oh, my god. the realization hit you like a freight train. it’s him. wonwoo. class president. sci-fi nerd. “how the fuck did i not notice?” you muttered, half impressed by his audacity.

you were so lost in your spiraling thoughts that you didn’t hear him return—until his voice, practically kissed your earlobe.

“what. do. you. think. you. are. doing?”

you jumped so hard your knee slammed into the underside of the desk. whipping around, you found wonwoo standing over you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“uh—nothing?” you stammered, trying to slam your laptop shut, but his hand darted out and stopped you.

“‘nothing’ doesn’t look like you snooping through my computer,” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

your cheeks burned. “okay, fine, maybe i was curious—”

“you were curious?” his tone sharpened. “curious enough to invade my privacy?”

“invade your—bro, you’re literally whispering dirty robot sex fantasies to the entire internet. how is that private?”

“that’s different!” his ears flushed a deep red, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “that’s content. this—this is personal.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “oh, please. you’re mad i figured it out. admit it.”

he leaned closer, towering over you now, his hand pressing down on the desk beside you. “what do you want, huh? blackmail? are you gonna tell everyone?”

you laughed, loud and incredulous. “tell everyone?! dude, relax. i’m not gonna expose your little side hustle. besides…” you smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. “you should be thanking me. clearly, i’m a fan.”

wonwoo’s eyes darkened, and his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. 

“you’re a what?” he asks, your pulse skyrocketing as he stepped even closer, crowding you against the chair.

“did i stutter?” you whispered, the challenge clear in your tone.

his mouth crashed onto yours, teeth and tongue and frustration. you barely had time to process it before he was yanking you out of the chair, his hands rough as they gripped your hips and spun you around.

“you want to act like a brat,” he growled into your ear, his voice so reminiscent of his asmr persona that it made you roll your eyes back slighty, “then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

he bent you over the desk, the cold surface pressing against your chest as he yanked down your college skirt and underwear at once. his fingers slid through your folds, already slick just from being around him.

“so fucking wet,” he muttered, almost to himself. “you get off on this, don’t you? knowing it’s me.”

“shut your mouth,” you gasped, but it came out more like a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them and pressing them hard on your front wall.

“make me,” he challenged, his other hand coming down sharply on your ass. the sting made you gasp, your hips jerking against his hand as you tense on the desk.

the pace of his fingers was relentless, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts. every part of your body was starting to be feveirsh, and you hated—hated—how easily he was unraveling you. you spent nights thinking about how it would be if onyx fucked you, and here you are. of course you would be a mess in a second.

“sorry” he mocked you. “am i too much for you?”

you clenched around his fingers, your nails digging into the desk as you tried to hold back a moan. “you talk too fucking much actually wonwoo,” you hissed.

“yeah, that's what's paying me at nights” wonwoo chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out and flipping you onto your back with his big arms. before you could protest, he was kneeling between your legs, his mouth suddenly hot and insistent against your core, better than any other vibrator you insisted on using at night.

the sounds—the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue—mixed with your whimpers as he devoured you like a man starved. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

“stop—”

“stop?” he looked up, his chin glistening. “not until you admit i’m your favorite.”

you glared down at him, breathless and defiant. “you’re such an asshole.”

“and yet…” he smirked, diving back in and flicking his tongue against your clit until your head fell back, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

it didn’t take long before you were coming undone, your body shaking as his mouth pulled your clit. wonwoo didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, dragging out your orgasm until you were a trembling, incoherent chaos beneath him.

wonwoo doesn’t waste a second after pulling back, his hands flipping you over again so you’re bent over the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool surface as he grinds against you. the thick outline of his cock rubs against your dripping folds, still covered by the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. you gasp, your hips jerking back involuntarily, and his pearly-white smile flashes above you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, almost smug, as a dark spot begins to spread on his sweatpants from your slick. “you’re soaking me through.”

the way he emphasizes the word makes your back contort in shivers, but you’re too far gone to care. your fingers claw at the desk as he keeps humping against you, his pace quickening. when he finally pulls back, you hear the shuffle of fabric as he yanks down his sweatpants and briefs. the soft clink of a drawer opening catches your attention, and you crane your neck to see him sliding on a condom.

“you’re still melting all over my desk,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your ass. “can’t even wait for me, huh?”

before you can respond, his hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you gasp. he doesn’t stop, spanking you again and again until your skin is flushed and burning.

“you look so pretty like this,” he says, his hand smoothing over the heated skin before gripping your waist and lining himself up. “all messy and desperate for me.”

when he pushes in, stretching you inch by inch until you’re full and breathless, pussy trying to clench at his big grith to adjust. wonwoo groans, his head falling forward as he sinks in to the hilt.

your walls flutter around him, and he moans at the feeling, the sound so real and raw that it sends a jolt straight to your core.

“talk to me,” you manage to gasp, your voice muffled against the desk.

he chuckles, his pace picking up as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “you want me to talk dirty? you want me to tell you how tight you are? how good you’re taking me?”

you moan in response, your hips bucking back against him as his words send you curling.

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he continues, his voice thick with lust. your moans grow louder, and he suddenly remembers the videos you must’ve listened to—the whining, the moaning. the thought makes his stomach flip, and he decides to give you exactly what you want.

he starts letting out soft whimpers, his voice breaking with each thrust, the sounds spilling out almost involuntarily. “fuck, babe, you’re gonna make me cum—”

the genuine desperation in his voice drives you wild, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper. he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave marks, but you don’t care.

“please,” he moans, his voice high and strained. “let me cum for you. let me—fuck—”

you push back against him, meeting his thrusts as your own climax builds, your breaths coming in short, broken gasps. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies moving together, and the tension snaps all at once.

you come hard, your body shaking as you cry out, and wonwoo isn’t far behind. his hips stutter, a guttural moan escaping him as he spills into the condom, his body trembling with the force of it.

he collapses over you, his chest heaving against your back as you both try to catch your breath. after a moment, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice still hoarse as he murmurs, “guess i’m a little better live, hm?”

you just let out a defeated moan, the coldness of the table soothing your hot cheeks.

“keep quiet about this, and i'll keep giving you more.” well, it's just an excuse that wonwoo said to fuck you over again.

[onlyswan]

summary: in which for you, jungkook would commit crimes and his mother would peel oranges.

idol!jk x reader | fluff, angst | word count: 9.5k

warnings/content: oc passes out in the shower / jk does something crazy i’m literally insane about this / baby bam cameo 🥺 / stitches >:( / blood draw / mention of speeding / jealous not but rlly jealous oc is pissed owfffff at the nurse who has a crush on jk lmao / jk and his mom loves them to death tho so obv who wins / love is beautiful let’s all cry <3

> in which masterlist!

note: *sitcom sound effect of crowd cheering* I’M BACK 🥰 hope u enjoy the product of my madness during finals season hehehe. and special thanks to my cutieful proofreader rio!! you’re one of my most favorite people i’ve ever met 🥺💕 + my beloveds who came to the rescue when i had medical questions !! i didn’t expect to receive help from soooo many and i’m so freaking grateful i could cri :")

—

“i ordered it the other day. how did it arrive so early?”

jungkook walks back inside the apartment, arms occupied by a stack of boxes that arrived in the mail yesterday.

he arrives at the living room, head tilting to the side in confusion when he realizes that the netflix show he was watching on the television is no longer playing. instead, there is the news channel.

he gasps.

“baby, you’re alive!”

your swollen eyes flicker up to him.

you’re lying on the sofa with your legs lazily dangling on the edge. there’s a toothbrush in your mouth, foam of bubbles between your lips, but your arm barely exerts the energy to make it do its job.

“you were asleep from afternoon to morning. do you know that? you’ve never done that before!” he exclaims, carelessly tossing the boxes on the floor. “i was getting scared!”

you only hum to acknowledge his existence, pushing yourself up from the sofa and unknowingly dodging the hug your boyfriend wanted to greet you with.

he ends up collapsing face first on the empty space you left, hurt and offended.

the bathroom door opens and closes.

he flips over, whining. “yah, we didn’t see each other for a day. didn’t you miss me?!”

still not a single word from you. sleeping that long must not have cured your exhaustion, jungkook surmises. you tend to be glum and cranky when you’re feeling unwell, as is usually the case when you wake up as unrested as before.

he doesn’t always know how to make you feel better, but he always tries anyway.

“our new bedsheets arrived!” he announces from the other side of the bathroom door, making himself loud so that you can hear him despite the shower running. “do you want to unbox them with me?!”

he allows the seconds to pass, but with his hands on his hips, he eventually begins to tap his foot on the floor.

“baby? may i go in?”

he turns the knob, just to be prepared incase the answer is a yes, but it doesn’t turn. a sad pout forms on his face.

huh? why is it locked?

you must genuinely don’t want to be bothered today.

“guess that’s a no.” he mutters to himself before calling out to you. “okay, i’ll wait for you!”

with a crestfallen sigh, he begins to walk back to the living room.

he doesn’t go far, however.

only several steps later, a series of loud crashes is heard from the bathroom and his heart thunders in his chest with a combination of numbing shock and fear.

“____, what was that?! did you fall?!”

he aggressively pounds at the door, extremely desperate this time around. he has no plans on leaving until he knows that you’re safe and sound.

“baby! open this! are you alright…? are you hurt? you’re scaring me. please, answer!”

he pauses, catching his breath as his mind runs a thousand miles per hour.

“____!”

he strikes the door with an open palm one more time, more so to express his frustration that is only growing worse with every tick of the clock. he only ends up hurting himself in the process.

“that’s it! i’m opening the door!”

he frantically whips his head around, racking his brain for the location of the key. there are two copies of it somewhere in the apartment, but in his panicked state, he is unable to pinpoint either of their specific spots. and he can’t fucking afford to waste any more time.

“ah, fuck!” he curses, left with no other choice but to give in to the instinct of breaking down the door with the strength and durability of his body alone.

he would most definitely break his shoulder first before the door.

only after the first try, that much is clear.

and so, with madness inconsiderate of his agony, he resorts to kicking it over and over again.

the repeated loud collisions rattles poor bam from his slumber. not long after, the dog’s barking creates a booming dissonance with his grunts and kicks at the door.

when it finally swings open, the force of his own body sends him stumbling on the bathroom floor, but he doesn’t waste time in bouncing back to his feet.

the twisting of his stomach is instantaneous.

there lies your naked, unconscious figure behind the glass— surrounded by bottles of hair and body products that must have fallen when your hands were searching for something to hold on to.

his voice cracks, breathless.

“baby, no… no, no, no.”

he kneels on the floor, and despite the strong urge to carry you out of there, he tries to calm down. it’s the first rule in every emergency case; professionals reiterate in seminars and news channel segments.

keep calm. keep calm. keep calm.

he won’t be able to forgive himself if he ends up causing more harm than good.

“____, can you hear me?!”

his instinct tells him to inspect every inch of you for any sign of injury, but then his vision becomes too blurry. he curses at the hindrance and forces himself to turn off the showerhead that was left running.

he harshly wipes his face, rushing back to you.

“please, please, please. wake up.” he begs.

he has a feeling that it’s futile. you can’t hear him and he’s wasting his breath. the thing is he doesn’t know what else to do.

“baby…”

he carefully turns your head over, almost relieved because he hasn’t seen blood so far.

almost.

at last, he gets a full view of your face, and he finds blood dripping. this has always been one of his most paralyzing fears— seeing you get hurt. now that it’s become a reality, there’s a part of him that wants to believe this is some kind of twisted dream.

“how- how did this even happen…?” he cries out, his own blood running cold.

for everything that happens after, his body acts on its own. bam is a constant presence in his peripheral, but he is barely in his right mind to acknowledge the presence aside from, “bam, move. daddy might step on you.”

he carries you out of the bathroom, kicking aside the beaten up door. he has made up his mind about bringing you to the hospital, but he can’t bring you like… this.

he lays you down on the bed, all that gentleness switched off in a split second so he can sprint to the walk-in closet. he hastily grabs whatever is on top of your neatly folded stacks of shirts and pants; and then a fresh towel on the way out. the gentleness returns as he pats your face dry, the pure white stained with dark red. he flips the towel and uses the other side to wipe the rest of your body, in a race against time but mindful of treating you like fragile glass.

once that is over, he dresses you in a pair of gray sweatpants, and with some difficulty, an orange t-shirt.

any person with functioning eyes will be able to tell that the shades don’t go together.

if you were conscious, you’d definitely berate him for making you wear this outfit.

but you’re not.

jungkook effortlessly swoops you in his arms— dripping wet hair, his and yours, leaving behind a trail of raindrops from your apartment floor to the cemented parking lot.

—

your body feels like it’s floating.

are you dreaming…?

you must be dreaming.

you hear an uncoordinated symphony of voices, but you can’t comprehend a word. in pursuit of clarity, you force yourself to open your eyes.

the voices grow a little louder. faceless figures hover you; a bright light shines over your face.

your senses must be playing cruel tricks. now it feels like you’re drowning, sinking into the unknown, and your body has succumbed into numbing defeat.

you want to sleep a little more.

you must truly be exhausted. it’s okay.

you’ve fought hard until now. you’ve done enough… has anyone tried in life as much as you did?

just as your eyes flutter shut, you regain sensation of your hand; a soft squeeze and a call of your name.

—

jungkook gently strokes your hair, sighing for the nth time since you got transferred to a private room. he’s relieved that all the scans came back clean so serious head and brain injuries have been ruled out. the doctor also asked him questions and ran some other tests before concluding that electrolyte imbalance caused you to pass out; the culmination of stress and fatigue from work, as well as your strong period, most likely being the main reasons. he didn’t even know about the latter until you stained the white sheets with blood.

it was fucking frightening being in the sidelines as they rushed to check on your vitals and to administer oxygen. even now, it’s unbearable to see you with a needle in your hand and a few stitches above your eyebrow. he already anticipated you not being pleased with having to get stitches specifically either; gasping and sitting up as soon as you heard the word come from his lips post-consciousness. consequently, the dizziness hits you. the doctor wasn’t happy about that.

“this is so annoying. i don’t want a scar.” you whine as you study your face on the camera of jungkook’s phone. “did i have to fall on my prettier side?”

“what are you saying? you’re pretty from any angle.” he interjects. “be careful. the wound might open up.”

you jut out your bottom lip, looking up at him with glassy eyes. the sight instantly tugs at his heartstrings, and he pulls you in for a hug. maybe he’s a little sad that you don’t appear concerned about the fact that you passed out, but god is he relieved to finally hear your voice again.

“ah, i should call the doctor.”

but his face remains buried in your hair.

“they told me to do so.”

“you should-”

“why?!” he abruptly reacts, drawing back. “does anything hurt?”

“chill. you said that they told you to.”

“oh, that’s right.” he sheepishly smiles. he can’t help but to overreact; he hasn’t turned off the alarms in his head. “i’ll go tell the nurse to get her.”

he starts to walk towards the door, but a tug at his shirt holds him back.

you shyly look at him with a scrunch of your nose. “i’m nervous. hug me for five more seconds.”

fuck, he would move heaven and earth to protect you from everything that can cause you harm.

“why would you be nervous? i’m right here.” he scolds you lightheartedly, not hesitating to seize the chance to hug you again. “i love you.”

“i love you more.”

you pull away after five seconds, and he’d be disappointed about you being too true to your words if you didn’t kiss him on the cheek so ardently.

his heart almost jumps out of his chest when you gasp out of nowhere as if you just realized that you left the gas tank open at home. your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“bam!”

oh, right. your child.

“my brother’s house!” he eases your mind.

you breathe out in relief, the heel of your palm pressing against the left side of your chest where your heart lives. “good… i was worried. he was probably more scared because he didn’t understand what was going on. i feel bad.”

you love bam so much; it makes him so happy. you’re so concerned about him even when you’re the one on the hospital bed. you make pretty good parents, huh?

“that’s right. he was worried about you, too. that’s why you need to recover quickly so he won’t be sad!”

—

the doctor kindly asked jungkook to give the two of you some time alone, so he’s been idly sitting at the lobby after buying a bottle of water. he’s pretty much used to visiting the hospital for routine checkups considering the nature of his job, but it always feels strange to be here for the other different purposes of the place.

is there any other building sadder than this?

if you heard him utter this question, he could easily predict what you’d say: but is there any other building with more love?

if he tries hard enough, he could listen to your voice and paint you in his mind.

you see love in every place that you step foot into.

his curious eyes continue to wander around. he spots people carrying flowers, baskets, and containers of food. there’s also a teenage boy in his high school uniform, carrying a teddy bear larger than him.

not that he wants you to stay longer, but if you have to, he writes down a mental note to bring one of your favorite plushies.

he eventually gets tired; considers scrolling on his phone again, but he decides against it when his gaze lands on a little boy sleeping soundly on his mother’s lap. suddenly, he is reminded of his childhood before he moved to seoul.

how simple life can be when you’re innocently sleeping on your mother’s lap, trusting that everything will be alright.

“ah, i miss my mom…” he utters absentmindedly. “i miss my mom so much. i should call her.”

his reminiscing is interrupted when a wheelchair rolls by infront of him. it is leisurely being pushed by an old man who wants to bring his wife outside for some fresh air.

in a parallel universe somewhere, jungkook can imagine them as you and him.

he sits up straight, looking back at the clock on the wall.

how long has it been? he wants to be by your side again.

—

“jungkook!” your face lights up as soon as your boyfriend steps into the room. “what took you so long?”

“i know. sorry, baby. i got a little distracted outside.”

“i’ve been waiting.” you pout. “why? were people bothering you?”

“not at all. don’t worry.”

you pat the empty space beside you. “here.”

“i think the bed is meant for only one person- damn, okay, okay-”

he swiftly gives in upon seeing the hurt on your face, occupying the space you reserved for him. “i love you. don’t be sad.”

you’re aching too much to wait for him to get settled. you wrap your arms around his waist like you’re a magnet attracted to steel, clinging to him for comfort.

if you’re being honest, you don’t know how you feel about being in this situation. overwhelmed? maybe a tiny bit relieved. in the past, it didn’t matter whether you were sick or not. you needed to work or else it was guaranteed that you wouldn’t survive. life is easier now. you have the luxury to use this as a reason to take a break. you have someone who takes care of you as naturally as he breathes.

“how was the doctor?”

“she’s nice… she just asked me about the things i remember before i passed out. then about my work, diet, sleeping schedule… stuff like that.”

you pull away a little, just enough so you can see each other’s face. you squint at him suspiciously. “did you have to get an expensive room?”

he chuckles. “how did you know? they didn’t tell you that, did they?”

“i literally have the perfect view of the fountain from here!” you point at the large window behind you. “i just passed out. i would’ve been fine downstairs.”

“don’t say it like that. it could’ve been so much worse.” he says with knitted eyebrows, palm cupping the back of your head and caressing softly.

he heaves a sigh.

“i was so scared that you injured your head. seriously, i thought i’d go insane if i lost you! i went past the speed limit driving you here!”

the distress he was under is apparent. you can’t help but to be racked with the guilt. you always do this, making him worry himself to death. you don’t usually do it purpose, and that only makes you feel shittier.

“you’re right. i’m sorry.”

“well, i…” he sighs. “it’s okay. i know you didn’t want this either. it’s not your fault.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “it kind of is.”

your lost eyes meet, and a connection is established like it’s a constellation sending a secret message. your heart flutters when he giggles, dimples and starry eyes and crinkled corners.

“stop it. it’s impossible to scold you when you’re so cute and self-aware.”

“then don’t scold me.” you sniffle sadly to kindle pity in him. “i’ve had enough of it from the doctor.”

your brain still works well enough to help you escape from trouble. that’s a good sign, right?

“my poor baby.” he coos, cradling your cheeks.

his hands are warm. you put yours over them; a wordless signal telling him you don’t want him to go away.

“let’s not get hurt again, please. we need to stay healthy and take good care of ourselves so this won’t happen again, alright?”

you nod in obedience. your eyes are fixed on him but you’re not certain if you’re registering what he’s telling you in your pitiful, shaken brain.

“the hospital already did me many favors. if we go back, i might have to build them another fountain as a gift.”

and knowing jungkook, with his golden heart and his black card, jokes become half-meant.

“what do they need that for?!”

he bursts out laughing, yet again, after you chide at him for his ridiculous and unnecessary expenses.

“nothing, i’m just grateful! i was really so scared but i’m relieved now thanks to them. i can’t remember the last time i felt that way.”

“you’re not scared of a lot of things.” you point out.

“that’s right.” he agrees. “only you scare me these days.”

you grimace. “am i scary?”

“you are, sometimes.” he laughs, squishing your cheeks together. “but i mean the things that could hurt you.”

as if on cue, your stomach grumbles and bellows like a monster stuck in an empty cave. your eyes grow twice its size in bewilderment, which then morphs into embarrassment.

“my stomach hurts.” you say quietly.

your nostrils flare as jungkook miserably fails to hold back his laughter. one of his hands leave your face, rubbing your tummy over the thin hospital gown.

“oh no, what are we going to do? where does it hurt? here?” he pouts. “should we go feed you now to make it go away?”

“what is wrong with you?” you slap his shoulder in annoyance. “i’m not a baby!”

“yah, be careful!” he yells, wincing as if he is the one in pain. “be gentle with the one with the iv!”

—

“you know one good thing that came out of this?” you gush out of nowhere.

you’re mixing up the ingredients of your bibimbap bowl with a spoon and a pair of chopsticks.

jungkook noisily drinks the final sips of his banana milk. afterwards, he makes a game out of shooting the box in the trash bin.

“what could that be?” he asks, doubtful.

he sits on the chair beside your bed. you greet him with a delighted grin, licking your thumb stained with gochujang.

“you proved your love. you committed a crime for me.”

he gasps to humor you, body freezing as if he’s currently processing the newly-learned information in his brain.

“oh? you’re right- i did! and you know what? i’d do it again!”

with a mouthful of rice, you shake your head in disagreement furiously. “you’re cute. but that’s the first and last.”

“but how are you sure that it’s the first?” he raises an eyebrow quizically.

silly enough, you envy him for being able to do so.

you hum in thought. “i guess you’ve stolen a few things for me, too.”

“few? you mean a loooot?”

“you’re the one who brings home food and random things.” you roll your eyes. “i never ask you to.”

“you told me you wanted the service bell!”

you feel yourself become flushed with sheepishness. he’s not lying. you’ve always found the object fascinating as a child, so you couldn’t help but to tell him to sneakily take one home after filming a competitive run bts episode.

did you have a silly phase where you and jungkook used it to summon each other just to laugh together about it?

perhaps.

“well, you’re rich. you could’ve bought me one instead.”

“but it was already there.” he reasons with a wide grin, gesturing infront of him. “i wanted to give it to my lover right away.”

his lover?

jungkook has successfully replaced your frown with an enamored smile.

“i made your heart flutter just now, didn’t i?”

a hospital stay has never felt this comfortable— not terrifying. you have stitches on your face and to add to that, this hospital gown feels super unflattering. somehow, your boyfriend’s loving gaze remains steady and you are melting.

“shut up,” you mutter, flustered, handing him the pair of chopsticks. “please eat with me. i can’t finish this on my own.”

—

“why would you let them put the needle in my dominant hand?”

you stomp your feet on the ground as jungkook squeezes some toothpaste onto a newly-bought toothbrush.

“i’m sorry! i was too stressed out so i just pointed! i think i got confused with- with left and right.”

you didn’t realize this while you were eating; that you were unconsciously holding the spoon with your non-dominant hand because the other felt uncomfortable. maybe because it was a simple task, scooping food and bringing it to your mouth. brushing your teeth, on the other hand… can be quite an arm workout.

“eeeee!”

he shows his complete set of teeth, urging you to do the same. you stare at him blankly.

“eeeee!” he repeats with heightened enthusiasm.

left with no other choice— you copy his awkward smile.

“there we go!” he praises you with an over-enthusiastic beam.

he carries on to brush your teeth, gingerly holding your chin to keep you steady as he does his job.

this is the first time jungkook is doing this for you. today is definitely not one of your finest moments. it feels a bit silly to be in this situation, and you feel bad for putting your boyfriend in this position in the first place. you can see that he’s trying his best—unnecessarily focused—and that he loves you, but you just hate giving him a hard time.

with a soft smile, he wipes the bubbles that overflowed past your lips.

“okay, spit.”

you spit out more of the bubbles on the sink. you assume that he’s finished, except he’s making another vowel sound for you to mimic the mouth shape of.

“ahhhh-”

“this is embarrassing!”

“baby, really? this is where you draw the line?” he playfully squeezes your cheeks together. “it’s almost over! ahhhh!”

and you let him do this thing, but not without a glare that is masking the embarrassing truth: you might be enjoying this more than you care to admit.

“see? was that so bad?”

as he tenderly pats your face dry in the aftermath, he says: “i’m sorry. bear with it a little more. let me take care of you so you’ll be healthy again.” and you feel every ounce of his sincerity pierce through the barriers surrounding your soul.

“stop it…” your voice suddenly comes out broken.

you want to put all the blame on your period for the tears that are now brimming your eyes, but jungkook is your biggest weakness of all and that is an explanation enough.

“why are you crying?” he panics. “what did i say?”

“it’s your fault.”

you break down into loud sobs, incapable of even keeping your eyes open. you never understood why we close our eyes when we cry, but right now, you know that you can’t bear to witness his reaction.

“you’re so sweet.”

the towel that was wiping the water from your mouth is now drying the tears from your stained cheeks.

“am i making you sad?”

you furiously shake your head. how could he say such a thing? he is the greatest joy of your life.

“no?”

“no!”

“okay, come here then.”

he wraps his arms around your trembling figure, caging you in the solace of his entire existence. a sense of calmness washes over your system, especially as he runs his hand across your back in gentle strokes. this isn’t his goal though, it seems. you hear none of his quiet shushes beseeching you to stop breaking his heart. he hopes you let go of everything that has been weighing on you, but he has already eased all your pains by loving you.

“ugh, i probably look horrible right now.” you force a chuckle to lighten up the mood, wiping your face with the back of your free hand. “i feel gross.”

“that’s not true.” he gazes at you fondly, brushing your hair with his fingers. “it’s actually infuriating how you look so beautiful still.”

“i know. i’m nice to look at; that’s why you tolerate my attitude.” you conclude in jest.

“yeah, sometimes.” he rides on the joke.

“what…?”

“i’m joking!” he rushes to take it back with a laugh. “of course i’m joking!”

you pout. “are you really?”

“oh, come onnnn.”

he coaxes you with a kiss on the lips— a good morning kiss long overdue. you’ve been spoiled rotten with affection; he knows you need more than one. he interrupts himself several times to kiss you.

“you know i’ll love you until our hair turns white and our skin all wrinkly.”

to be brutally honest, you’re not fond of imagining that far ahead. it’s daunting. you doubt your capability to age with grace. you’re horrified by the thought of having the majority of your life behind you. nostalgia has always been more bitter than sweet. but maybe this memory could be the sweetest of all, if jungkook truly stays by your side until then. in a cottage at the countryside like he said once, or a cabin by the ocean.

you’re both so young; so arrogant when it comes to making promises that are a shot in the dark. so fucking in love.

“me too.” you half-smile, scrunching your nose— a telltale sign of your joy. “now, get out. i really need to pee.”

his face becomes drained of blood. “but you’re st-”

“i won’t lock the door this time.” you cup his cheek, looking at his eyes reassuringly. “we don’t need property damage added to the bill.”

—

“did you not hurt yourself?”

“me?”

“you broke down the door. that’s not easy to do.”

you and jungkook make the best out of a bad deal. you’re squeezed together on the bed, browsing through television channels that seem to never end.

“it was easy because you were on the other side of it.”

that is what he claims confidently, but you are not fully convinced.

“wow, why do they have more channels than we do at home?”

“you didn’t answer my question.” you pout. “did you hurt yourself?”

“i didn’t hurt myself. i’m totally okay. i promise.”

he maintains eye-contact as he speaks. given the assurance, your tight chest unrestricts. jungkook is not a good liar. it’s a trait that causes him inconvenience every now and then, but it helps you to sleep soundly at night.

“should we just watch funny animal videos on youtube?”

“i guess that’s fine.”

it doesn’t show but you feel excitement run in your veins aside from the iv fluids that feel peculiarly cold.

from under your cheek, his chest vibrates with a giggle. “okay, hold on.”

as he pulls up the application, you tangle your legs together beneath the thin blanket. you hear the rapid tap tap tap of the remote control navigating the keypad while he types on the search bar, but your attention is someplace else. you’ve found the crook of his neck to sneak into, lazily kissing every inch of his exposed skin. your lips eventually trail up to his jaw. he smells so nice. you’re addicted.

“baby, someone can enter any minute.”

“i’m not doing anything.” you mumble.

you smile against his lips when he gives you a kiss as sweet as honey anyway.

“i’m curious about another thing.”

“what’s that?”

“did you cry?”

he comes to a still. the answer to that question requires a little time and thought.

“almost…”

“why almost?”

“no time. i had to bring you here, of course.” he replies.

you huff a laugh, exhaling a twinge of melancholia. “don’t cry.”

“i won’t. i’m happy now because you’re awake and fighting with me.”

“ow-”

your cry of pain is silenced when he squeezes you in an embrace that makes it nearly impossible to breathe.

“red panda!”

a squeal assaults both of your hearing as soon as your eyes land on the wide screen infront of the bed.

“i want one so fucking bad.”

the enunciated curse makes your boyfriend crack up in amusement. “that much?!”

—

jungkook opens his eyes to a nurse lightly nudging him awake.

“i’m sorry, i had to wake you up. i need to check vitals and draw blood.”

“shit, i’m sorry.” he panics.

his brain is foggy from the nap, but he still carefully sits up on the bed, wary of the iv line connected to your hand.

“i… was tired and i fell asleep.”

“it’s no problem; don’t worry.”

she smiles at him, but he doesn’t see it.

“you look adorable sleeping.”

“ah, really?” he awkwardly responds, absentminded. “it’s embarrassing.”

he stands on your side, about to disturb your peaceful rest much as it makes his heart ache with guilt, but you’re already stirring due to the absence of his warmth.

your heavy eyelids blink at the nurse in curiosity. “oh… do you need my blood?”

“yes, but i’ll take your blood pressure and temperature first.”

“okay,” you mumble, offering your arm. “it might be higher now because i’m scared.”

she chuckles at your joke. jungkook tries to share an endeared look with her and non-verbally communicate adorable, right?

“i promise i’ll be quick. although we definitely want it to be higher than earlier’s.”

you wince as the cuff around your upper arm goes as tight as it could, and you sigh at the same time that it begins to deflate.

“good, good, good,” she chants with a mumble. “it’s back in the normal range again…”

she brings out a digital thermometer from her pocket.

“you know where this goes.”

she hands it over to you, and you awkwardly place it in your armpit, holding it in place. it’s quiet as you wait for the device to make the beeping sound, except for her pen creating friction with your chart as she takes down notes.

“how’s your stitches? do you feel any discomfort?”

“it’s fine. thank you.”

not long after, you hear the beep. you return the thermometer to her, but not before taking a peak at the numbers displayed on the tiny screen. 36.8°C. you think you’ll live.

“i’ll draw your blood now.”

the nurse’s voice is sweet and reassuring, but it doesn’t quite ease the nervousness evident on your expression. your pupils shake as you watch her disinfect the area, and then comes out the long needle.

another one, jungkook laments inside.

“____, i’m right here.”

you crane your head, whimpering out his name. “jungkook,”

“it will be just a pinch. i’m inserting the needle now, alright?”

you take a sharp inhale.

if only he could switch positions with you, he would do it in a heartbeat. unfortunately, all he can do is caress your hair and whisper that it will be over soon.

“it hurts.” your damp eyelashes flutter, face twisting in discomfort. “i don’t like it.”

really, just a pinch? obviously a lie.

“hey, baby. look at the tv.”

the autoplay was left turned on after you fell asleep together. inside the screen is a puppy rolling around a snow-covered lawn. the wagging of its tail, the wide smile, and the pupils as big as boba balls: they all scream the happiness of an innocent.

“it’s so cute… i miss bam already. can we go to a dog park again?”

“of course!”

that promise sparks your smile. you turn to your side, and jungkook also catches a glimpse of the cotton taped to where you were poked.

“all done. you can go back to resting.”

“thank you. will you need to take blood again?” you inquire at the nurse.

“hm, probably. it depends on the doctor based on the results we get from this one.”

“can’t you just do it while i’m asleep? or is that not allowed?”

“baby…” jungkook snorts, hiding his face behind the palm of his hands.

the nurse laughs at your desperate suggestion. “that is honestly not a rare request, but the thing is… you might wake up in the middle of it and injure yourself. we can’t do that.”

“that won’t be a problem!” you passionately argue your case. “i’m a deep sleeper. seriously!”

“ah, thank you so much for your hard work!”jungkook intervenes, bowing to the nurse out of respect and gratitude. “i’m sure you’re busy. i will handle this!”

“oh yes, yes- thank you. please don’t forget the medicine for after dinner.”

“i won’t!”

“if you need anything, you know where to find me again.”

“yes,” he nods, chuckling. “thank you.”

“then i should leave…? but you’ll see me again later! bye!”

the door shuts, and his attention lands on your unimpressed form: a blank stare and arms folded infront of your chest.

uh-oh.

“did she seriously wink while saying that?”

“what?” he freezes, genuinely clueless. “i don’t know. i didn’t see anything. i was looking at you.”

“i’m right here- i’m the patient. why would you need anything from her? huh? why is she so excited to see you again?” you ramble angrily.

“right?!”

he climbs on the bed, reclaiming his spot next to you.

“that was weird.”

“what if she made it hurt on purpose? that…” you frown, glancing at your arm. “that didn’t really feel like a pinch to me.”

“ey, calm down. she wouldn’t.” he makes a doubtful face, laughing off the accusation. “…i don’t think so?”

you blink, exhaling in disbelief. “are you taking her side now?”

“of course not! baby, i’m just saying… a professional won’t do that.”

“why not? she’s still human. humans do stupid things when they like someone. she obviously likes you.”

“and so what?”

he grins with a spark of mischief, leaving an inch of a distance between your lips.

“i’m obviously yours.”

but you turn your cheek and your eyes fall on your lap, a pout highlighting your downcast mood.

“it’s so annoying.”

the regret sinks in after. he should’ve stuck to the golden rule: agree with everything that you say. there’s no point in having an argument no one will win. does it matter who’s right and wrong if each other’s sadness is contagious in addition to their own? your gut has almost always been right, and he’s old enough to be conscious of not allowing a stranger to put a dent on your relationship.

“are you serious? are you uncomfortable?” he tilts his head to try and get a better look at your face. “should i request for a different nurse?”

it’s quiet for a beat and he feels inclined to fill the silence with whatever enters his mind.

“i love you.”

almost immediately, your features soften and he knows your heart is also melting. the two of you bite the inside of your cheeks to hide a smile.

“no, there’s no need for that.”

but he still can’t help but to be worried. your peace of mind is his top priority. he doesn’t want you to be more stressed out, especially by things that he has the power to solve.

“are you sure?”

“she pissed me off. i need to piss her off too.”

of course, his ever stubborn and competitive lover. he sits up properly, amused and curious.

“and how will you do that?”

“i don’t know,” you nonchalantly shrug. “i’ll come up with something.”

—

“come up with what?”

to your surprise, a voice you haven’t heard in weeks echoes from the door.

“mom…?”

you’re stunned after only hearing yourself react to jungkook’s mother’s unexpected entrance. your head whips to his direction; your eyes wordlessly interrogating him.

“i need to go to work so i called her to watch over you.” he explains.

“why would you do that?” you argue with him as quietly as possible, lips barely moving as you try to hide your face from your mother-in-law. again, not one of your finest moments. “you didn’t have to. i can take care of myself.”

“but you don’t have to because you have us.”

jungkook marks the conversation finished with a kiss pressed to your temple, leaving you dumbfounded. he jumps off the bed and for a split second, you make eye-contact with his mother before he towered over her for a quick hug.

her kind smile is embroidered in your memory; a memory that wraps your heart in a type of warmth only a mother can provide.

“mom! i’m sorry. i really, really, really need to leave now. but! i’ll try to come back early so you can go home early too.”

“aigoo, stop stressing yourself out.”

jungkook receives a slap on the back, somehow more loving can scolding.

“i can stay the night so do what you need to do. you don’t have to worry.”

“it’s not only because i’m worried!”

she sassily puts a hand over her waist. it takes everything in you not to laugh out loud.

“then what else?”

“mom! what else?” he cheekily smiles. “of course i’ll miss ____ too much.”

did your boyfriend just…? to his mother? your jaw becomes slack from the shame.

“i missed ____ too!” she contests. “go to work and give us our alone time.”

you shyly smile when she transfers her attention from her son to you.

“hello, my baby. are you hungry?”

—

“does my son feed you well?”

“he does! but it’s funny- other mothers ask the opposite. are you feeding my son well? do you make sure he’s comfortable?”

you think out loud, transfixed on how she peels oranges with ease. your hands would always be stained by the juices, (and eyes red and teary from accidental splashes) (it’s too embarrassing to even think about) but hers are still magically clean.

“is that so?”

you graciously accept the slice she feeds you. she laughs when your face lights up like a christmas tree one more time. it’s way sweeter than you anticipated. you can’t get over how delicious it is.

“mhmm!”

perhaps you relied too much on dramas when it came to your expectations of what a relationship with your in-laws would look like. you imagined yourself running around like a dog trying to prove yourself worthy of their son, yet for some reason, it looks like they adore you for simply existing. it makes you feel extremely grateful, but you don’t understand.

“mom, i have a question… i know it’s probably too late to ask this now, but…”

“what could that be?”

“are you really not against me and jungkook living together?” you swallow your fear of the possibility of an unpleasant truth. “are you not… worried… that i’m receiving too much from him?”

because you would understand the apprehension. as a parent, one’s main concern would be their child. to outside eyes, it’s easy to come to the conclusion that jungkook is being taken advantage of and he’d be better off dating someone with the same status. sometimes you wish you were that someone too.

she utters your name sadly.

“he receives happiness and love from you. those are the most valuable things you could give to a person.”

she caresses your hair like she wants to erase the anxiety poisoning your mind.

“my dear, how come you’re worried about that until now? haven’t we told you? you’re part of the family. forget about my sister! i don’t welcome her negativity in our house!”

“living together is different. it’s a big deal. it normally happens in a relationship after…” the following words feel foreign in your mouth; they come out quieter than the rest of your sentence. “getting married.”

“then tell me. why did you agree to live with him?”

because you’re selfish. because you want more time that you can have him all to yourself. because you want to be accessible— the first person he runs to when he’s seeking comfort and stability. because you want goodnight and good morning kisses. because you were afraid of the risks but you’ve grown addicted to the thrill of love.

“he said… no matter how hard i push him away, he will stay within my reach.”

you hear your own shaky breathing. that moment— it’s still burned into your memory. you’re still holding on to it. it’s a promise he is yet to break and you pray that he never, ever does.

“i don’t want to push him away. i want to be within his reach too.”

you’re two people loving each other with everything within your means. after the endless pains and the deafening noise, you like to think that’s what makes this relationship worth fighting for.

“does my opinion still matter knowing that? will you let me stop you?”

“no, i won’t. i’d make you change your mind.”

if you had a machine connected to you, she would see how your heart rate has gone off the charts. but you’re known to say whatever’s on your mind and that, much to your dismay, isn’t switched off despite sitting infront of the woman who birthed and raised the love of your life.

you sniffle, pursing your lips nervously. “but i feel like there might be a right answer to that one.”

what you didn’t expect was her to laugh until her belly hurts; placing a hand over her mouth in an effort to calm herself down and keep grace.

“mom! stop, i’m so embarrassed!”

“no, ____, don’t get me wrong!”

she is teary-eyed as she gathers herself together.

“the more time i spend with you, the more i realize why jungkook loves you so much. i’ve seen him show incredible commitment twice. do you know that? first, when he went to seoul to become a singer. second, when he told us he got an apartment because he wants to be with you… of course, as his mother, i’ll admit that he’s young when he made those decisions, but he always proves to me that he’s smart and responsible.”

the urge to cry returns and strengthens as she speaks. you feel your eyelashes become damp with unshed tears. you don’t know how to act. you fiddle with your fingers. you stare at the strings and peels of the oranges you can still taste.

“i believe we both know jungkook’s personality well. he wouldn’t have let me stop him either. i’m happy to know that you’ll fight for him too.”

“thank you…”

“tsk, tsk, tsk- what is there to cry about? jungkook will get angry at me if he discovers that i made you cry.”

she wipes away your tears; however, the unmistakable scent of oranges that has clung to her hands and the affection in her tone bring forth a waterfall.

“seeing this makes me sadder.” she laments, referring to the stitches on your face.

“me too,” you babble in the midst of quiet sobs. “it makes me sad. it’s so ugly.”

—

you can’t remember the last time you felt this alone. perhaps it’s the effect of staying in an unfamiliar building of complete strangers. without your mobile phone, may you add. you managed to persuade jungkook’s mother to leave an hour ago because you didn’t want her to sleep on the uncomfortable couch.

the lights are turned off except for the lamp beside your bed, and with the television muted, you could hear a hairpin drop.

you’re alone and you can do whatever you want.

you dragged the visitor’s chair infront of the window to admire the garden like it’s a painting in motion. you watched people converse, stroll, and drink coffee. you watched them run for shelter when the clouds became too heavy and the sky began to fall. oh, so that’s why you couldn’t see the stars.

at this moment, there’s nothing left to amuse yourself with but the trembling of the leaves and the raindrops forming temporary rings when they fall in the water fountain.

your senses crave for more. you reach over and crack open the window, just enough to allow the sound of the rain and the scent of it permeating the earth to enter your room.

“this is kind of peaceful.” you whisper, amazed by the new lightness carried by your heart.

you close your eyes and you breathe in the petrichor deeply. you want nature in your lungs as a reminder that you’re alive. you welcome the cold wind kissing your face. you can feel your hair touching your neck. you always do, but for once, you’re choosing to acknowledge it. your thumb slowly brushes across the palm of your hand, perceiving the texture of your skin, the softness, and the lines. and your feet, they’re in the clouds, the fluffy slippers jungkook’s mother bought outside because she knows they’re your favorite to wear.

you’ve loved and despised this body for a million different reasons. your mind and heart have accepted defeat countless times, but your body wakes up to every brand new day without fail. your body implores you to live. did it finally give up on you today?

“baby!”

you look behind to search for the source of the sound.

you get your answer from the kiss planted on your lips.

you only saw his face for a split second, but even if you had your eyes closed, you’d know it has to be jungkook kissing you.

you can smell him. you’ve memorized the way the shape of his lips fits with yours.

oh, the sounds of his kisses too. you like to call them the butterfly call because they make butterflies appear in your stomach.

you could trace the scar on his cheek with your finger if you want to.

god, what a privilege it is to experience life in this vessel.

a knock on the door forces you to part too early. the same nurse from earlier enters and you internally scream all the curse words in your dictionary. jungkook acknowledges her with a bow and a quick ‘hello’ before squatting down infront of you.

“i committed another crime for you today.”

“huh?”

your wide, confused eyes take a glimpse at the nurse who is doing something with the controls of your iv line.

hahaha… she knows he’s not serious, right?

“what did you do?”

his smile is so big that his eyes have turned into little crescent moons. you’d make a guess but there is an infinite amount of things jungkook could possibly be this excited about.

…apparently, one of them would be strawberry cake.

you gape at the transparent box he was hiding behind his back all along.

“did you steal somebody’s birthday cake?!”

“it’s a producer’s birthday and he received lots of cakes, so he told me i can take one home.”

“how is it stealing if he allowed you to take it?”

he tosses his backpack on the couch as he sets down the box on the table. he rummages through the bag his mother left behind, successfully bringing out a spoon. meanwhile, you get your blood pressure taken again.

as he opens the box, he sends a smirk your way.

“no. i hid the strawberry cake because there’s so many who wanted to eat it.”

“are you crazy?!”

the nurse clicks her tongue. “don’t talk and stay still, please.”

“oh,” your hand flies to your mouth on instinct. “i’m sorry.”

“i’m sorry.” jungkook also apologizes.

you and your boyfriend secretly share a look, exchanging a smile that is stifled laughter inside. your lips remain zipped as the nurse restarts the process of taking your blood pressure. on the other hand, jungkook eats a spoonful of cake, teasingly wiggling his eyebrows at you. you roll your eyes and he tries harder to laugh without a sound.

seconds later, he grumbles about the room being too warm. he wipes the beads of sweat on his forehead using the back of his hand, and he does the worst thing he could possibly do at this moment. he reaches for his back, pulling his sweater over his head. naturally, his inner shirt rides up and allows wandering eyes a peak at his glorious toned abdomen.

passed out in the shower. busted your eyebrow open. front-row seat for a woman flirting and ogling at your boyfriend.

how fucking great.

“hello? i think it’s done.” you snap.

“a-ah, yes.”

you hear her swallow as she removes the cuff from your arm. she may be wearing a mask but she’s hot and red all the way to her ears. you’ve only read about it in books. you didn’t even believe this could happen in real life until now.

“i will check your temperature too.”

“go on.”

you repeat the same process from hours earlier, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you wait for the beep.

“yah, why is the window open? you’ll catch a cold.”

jungkook, yet again, steals the attention of every person in the room when he rises to his feet. his shadow casts over you as he closes the window.

“i wanted to smell the rain.”

“is the room getting too stuffy for you?”

you shrug. “i just wanted to smell the rain.”

you feel the nurse’s stare. you offer her a smile and her nameplate briefly gets caught by your vision. kang ji-woo.

“ji-woo; that’s a pretty name.” you pay her a sincere compliment. “it’s healing, don’t you think?”

“yes? uh-uhm, y-yes…” she replies, unsure and confused by the sudden small talk. “actually, it’s been linked to a reduction in stress and anxiety levels.”

“thank you! babe, did you hear that?”

“uhuh, think about my stress and anxiety levels.” he leans against the window with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you.

so now he’s flexing his arm muscles. cool, cool, cool. you know he’s not doing it on purpose and his entire existence is just naturally hot and it’s infuriating.

“i’ve been worried sick about you all day.”

his statement makes you frown for a new reason. at the same moment, the thermometer beeps.

“could you please tell him that i’m fine?”

“37.3, uhhh- that’s slightly above normal. how do you feel? does your head hurt? are you cold?”

“i feel fine though?”

“okay. please take a lot of rest and stay warm…” her gaze lingers at jungkook who is blocking the window. “keep the window closed. hopefully it won’t be higher when i check again later.”

seriously?! you could cry. you want to go home where it’s comfortable. where it’s only you and jungkook and bam.

but you bet somebody would be happy if you had to stay longer.

“i’ll look after ____.” your boyfriend sighs, pulling out a jacket from his backpack.

“you shouldn’t have kissed me. what if you get sick?”

your blatantness causes the nurse to pause in updating your chart. she awkwardly clears her throat. “yeah… that… that isn’t currently advisable.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll control myself.”

you earn a glare from jungkook, then he fakes a smile which you gladly return.

“before you go, may i request for a new blanket? sorry, i spilled something earlier.”

“sure thing! i’ll come back with that right away.”

—

“she seemed happy to leave.” jungkook remarks. “i can’t tell if you were actually being nice or being passive aggressive.”

you smile innocently, taking a bite off the strawberry you stole from the top of the cake. “i’m a fucking angel.”

damn it, why is he suddenly turned on?

were you serious about the no kiss rule?

“would you rather i be the type to pull their hair?”

he shakes his head with a laugh. “but you did slap someone once.”

“you want to see me that furious again?”

“never in my wildest dreams.”

he kisses the top of your head, producing an exaggerated ‘mmmwah!’ sound that makes you giggle happily.

“here, have some more cake.”

he offers you a spoonful of cake.

no, it’s bigger.

as a matter of fact, the piece could probably pass off as a cupcake.

you gawk at it as if you’re figuring out the logistics of putting it in your mouth. his heart does a flip when you tilt your head and do your best to take in the whole thing. however, in the middle of it, you decide that you can’t, and you end up biting it off a little more than halfway.

oh my god, he loves you. he loves you. you’re so fucking cute.

your cheeks are full as you struggle to chew. you cover your mouth with your hand but they don’t touch. you’re so elegant in your ways and sometimes he wonders how you’re still attracted to him after he acts stupid.

also, plain white nails? that’s new. you always want colors.

“your nails look pretty.”

he is so focused on you that he fails to take notice of another presence occupying the room.

“your mom did them for me.”

“i figured. she wants to do mother-daughter things with you.”

the short break of silence speaks volumes. you look at him, blinking with eyes hinting at a type of joy you’re lost on how to express.

“did you choose white?”

“no. we were watching a drama and it was the couple’s wedding.”

oh, that makes total sense.

“let me guess,” he trails off with a half-embarrassed, half-entertained smile. “she asked when we will get married?”

“why would she ask me that? how would i know?” you scoff.

his heart starts at a thousand miles per hour. fuck, are you hinting at him? are you messing with his feelings again? with you, he always needs to remind himself to be rational.

“i need more time to prove to you that i’m husband material.”

“what? stop it. i don’t care. i don’t need a ring.”

your unpredictableness pushes him to the edge of his seat.

“don’t pressure yourself. you already treat me way better than most husbands do their wives.”

the pride painted on your face is unmistakable. he feels his heart swelling in his chest. has he been doing a better job than he originally thought? after what happened today, he was terrified that he hasn’t been paying enough attention to you.

“i’m so happy with what we have.”

you offer him a delicate smile before eating the rest of the cake that was left on the spoon. he swears there’s a glowing halo above your head.

could your temperature have magically dropped in the past five minutes? would you kill him if he kissed you right now?

“is there anything else i could assist you with?”

and then he is rudely snapped out of his hopeless adoration and daydreaming.

“that’s all! thank you for your hard work!” you chirp.

he turns to the nurse with a lovesick grin.

“please come to our wedding.”

the unforeseen wedding invitation earns him a slap on the chest. he clutches the affected area, wincing in pain.

he hears you mutter. “don’t invite strangers to our wedding.”

the irritated glare he predicted to face isn’t there. rather, you’re wearing the flustered smile he only sees when he knows that he did something to make you fall for him all over again.

before ji-woo left, she tried to subtly reject the invitation by jokingly saying that she’d die to go, but most probably, she’d have to work that day. you know… being an overworked hospital employee and all. you caught her glancing at you with bitterness failed to be guised as indifference. you get it. you’d hate it if another person was in your place. frankly speaking, you could be miles pettier.

your boyfriend wipes the corner of your lips, thoughtless as he licks off the cake frosting from his thumb.

damn it, you wish she was also here for that.

“you haven’t stopped smiling.”

“you love me and you never let me forget that.”

you give an answer despite the lack of a question mark.

you just made his world stop spinning on its axis and you’re not even aware.

jungkook knows the heavenly feeling of knowing that he is loved, but he has never deeply considered the joy and relief when the person he loves believes that he loves them.

“i’m so lucky. i love you.”

you push yourself up to plant a kiss on his forehead. it’s a rarity he treasures and keeps.

“i love you too.”

he cries infront of you.

almost.

he excuses himself to the bathroom and cries in there a little.

you’re so easy to love— that’s why it makes him want to do difficult things for you. like commit more crimes?

[norrisainz33]

announcement || mv33

☆ summary: max and his private wife have been keeping a big secret

☆ pairing: max verstappen x private!nonfamous!wife!reader

☆ fc & warnings: amata alp & mentions of pregnancy

☆ requested: yes! thank you for your patience 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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maxverstappen1: glad you’re with y/bff tho i do wish you were here my love

ynverstappen: i wish i was there too. i hate having to miss your races

maxverstappen1: i know you do sweetheart but you’ve got big things to worry about right now 🤍

ynverstappen: i know i just wish you were here to worry about them with me!

ynverstappen: ugh i’m sorry i know you have no choice in the matter

maxverstappen1: don’t apologize liefje. i know this is not like the easiest time for me to be away! i will be home so soon so i can help take care of you

carmenmundt: y/n where have you beeeeeeen it’s been so long!!

ynverstappen: been very busy with work and with holding down the fort here in monaco!! i hope to be back at some races soon 🤍

alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous girl i miss you

ynverstappen: i miss you too babes

yourbff: my baby

ynverstappen: my girl

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 11,849 others

f1gossip: during todays redline stream the chat was flooded with questions about the whereabouts of y/n verstappen who has been absent from the paddock for the past couple of months. while y/n is relatively private and we don’t usually get many social media updates from her outside of her interior design firm’s posting, she almost never misses the opportunity to support max on a race weekend let alone several in a row. max assured the chat that y/n was ok and that she was just taking some time to herself and that she’d be back in the paddock soon enough. what do you all make of this?

view all 776 comments

user1: i’m so glad y/nmax are fine

user2: you could even hear her in the background at one point asking max what he wanted for dinner!! glad we are getting some crumbs

user4: omg ok good!! i thought that was her but couldn’t tell

user3: i was about to email her interior design firm to ask if she was ok thank god max updated us

user4: walk with me here guys…. what if we haven’t seen her bc she’s…… pregnant???

user6: oh my god you might be on to something!! they have been married for almost 2 years now

user7: no this is so believable!!! they’d make the best parents

user5: y/n’s ability to stay under the radar and unbothered is incredible

user8: y/n is the coolest wag i wish she was chronically online like so many of the others

user7: ugh fr!! i wish we could follow her on literally anything 💔

ynverstappen has posted to their story 🔒

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francisca.cgomes: are you redoing part of your house? is this why you’ve been so busy and i haven’t seen my best friend for WEEKS

ynverstappen: partially yes!! we are redoing the spare room. BUT you’ll see me this weekend for my party kiks

francisca.cgomes: and my god i can’t wait!! i miss you

ynvertsappen: i miss you too

landonorris: plans for what?

ynverstappen: idk 🤷🏻‍♀️

landonorris: liar!

maxverstappen1: they’re going to have the sweetest room 🤍

ynverstappen: yes they are 🤍 i’m so proud of how it’s turning out

georgerussell63: the 🤭 makes this feel like i’m on the outside of an inside joke

ynverstappen: you just might be georgie!!

georgerussell63: well what does that even mean

yourbff: i am brimming with excitement i can’t wait for you to tell everyone this weekend

ynverstappen: me too!! keeping this secret has been so tough but ultimately it’s been really nice to have something that’s just for me and max even if just for a short while

yourbff: no i totally get that y/n/n!! max has to share his life with the whole world so im sure it’s nice to have those private moments

yoursibling: i need you to facetime me when you tell carmen and kika bc they’re going to lose their minds

ynverstappen: oh i absolutely will

ynverstappen has made a post 🔒

liked by carmenmundt, iamrebeccad, maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, interiordesignbyyn and 201 others

ynverstappen: i’m so glad all my favorite people could come celebrate the news 🩷 baby verstappen due in january 🤍 mommy and daddy love you endlessly already 💙

view all 35 comments

carmenmundt: i can’t wait to be an aunty!!! best news ever 🤍

ynverstappen: and i can’t wait for you to be an aunty!! baby v is going to be so loved

carmenmundt: they already are!!

francisca.cgomes: can’t believe my favorite person in the world is going to be a mom 🥹

ynverstappen: love you kika 🥹

maxverstappen1: 💙🩷

ynverstappen: 😘😘

iamrebeccad: you’re going to make the perfect mom

ynverstappen: i really hope so 🤍

georgerussell63: blimey! i can’t wait to meet the little one!!

ynverstappen: only 3 more months!!

landonorris: uncle lando is reporting for duty

ynverstappen: baby v is going to love their uncle lan!!

maxverstappen1: baby v is already lucky to have you mate

alexandrasaintmleux: the most beautiful maman 🤍

ynverstappen: don’t make me cry again 😭

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by ynverstappen, redbullracing, charesleclerc, alex_albon, landonorris, and 765,248 others

maxverstappen1: grateful for moments like these away from the track. next week is race week again in vegas but for now, enjoy some family photos 🤍

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user1: my favorite couple maybe ever

user3: y/n sign of life!!

user4: sticking to my delulu and thinking he said family bc she’s having a baby

landonorris: see you all soon🤍

ynverstappen: see you soon lannyyyyyy

user4: he’s feeding into my delusions here…. bc why did he say you all instead of you both

user6: omg does this mean y/n will be in vegas????

ynverstappen: i love our little family 🫶🏻

maxverstappen1: me too gorgeous

user2: not me crying over this post?? the heart shaped pizzas sent me over the edge

redbullracing: looking forward to seeing you back on track!

ynverstappen has added to their story 🔒

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maxverstappen1: i have a tracker on your flight. i think the anxiety of you and the little one being on a plane without me is going to eat me alive

ynverstappen: we will be ok maxie i promise!! im on air max, it’s safe here

maxverstappen1: it is but also i’m not there so it’s not as safe as it could be

ynverstappen: my sweet boy, take a deep breath. you have quali soon

maxverstappen1: yes yes yes i’m breathing deeply

francisca.cgomes: well thank GOD i need you in the paddock

ynverstappen: pls come stay in rb hospitality w me

francisca.cgomes: for you i will just don’t tell pierre

charlesleclerc: on a scale of 1-10 how stressed is max

ynverstappen: 16

redbullracing: we can’t wait to see you!!

iamrebeccad: yayayayayayya!!!!!!!

ynverstappen: 😘😘😘😘😘😘

maxverstappen1 has made a post

liked by landonorris, ynverstappen, redbullracing, carmenmundt, charlesleclerc, and 754,984 others

maxverstappen1: for all of you wondering where y/n has been…. needless to say we’ve both been a little busy getting ready to welcome baby verstappen. only a few more months till the little one makes us a family of 3 🤍

view all 999 comments

user1: best news ever!!!!

user4: i knew it!!! omg 🥹

charlesleclerc: congratulations mate! i am so excited for you both

maxverstappen1: thank you charles 💙 baby v is so lucky to have an uncle like you

user16: im violently sobbing over this interaction you don’t understand

redbullracing: having a mini rb20 made for baby v as we speak

ynverstappen: oh gosh admin no

maxverstappen1: admin yes!!

redbullracing: uh oh awkward

landonorris: yayyyyyy!!!!!!!! i can’t wait to babysit!!

ynverstappen: you’re going to be the best babysitter ever

user7: she is glowing

user9: max and y/n are going to make the most beautiful parents

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7 and 11,849 others

f1gossip: here to share a recap of max’s first interview since announcing y/n’s pregnancy mere minutes after qualifying. he said he wanted to announce it before sunday because y/n was absolutely adamant about being in the paddock for vegas and there was no hiding her baby bump at 6 months. max said “i can’t wait to be a dad! it’s honestly something i’ve been dreaming of for years and i’m so grateful to my beautiful wife for giving me the greatest gift.”

view all 236 comments

user2: this is by far the happiest i’ve ever seen max and i am crying

user4: i love max and y/n so much i cant

user15: the way he talked about their baby ??? he already loves that little one so much

user18: i think having a baby is healing his inner child

user3: i love love love love love these 2

user19: crying screaming throwing up

user20: project verstappen!! lfg!!! next wdc champion incoming

user5: her refusing to miss another race is so real of her

user8: thank god she’s gonna be back in the paddock max needs her luck

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs always appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[dunmeshistash]

Okay I think I'm ready to write the second part of this post about Milsiril

To make it easier for me I'll just divide this into her relationship with Kabru, Mithrun and Helki (her ex-canary prisoner teammate)

First about Kabru

This is an extra from the daydream hour 5. The caption says "Something like this might as well have happened" so its probably not canon but could be. I honestly think his reaction to Milsiril visiting and being overbearing says a lot about the type of relantionship they have. This is the fakest bitch in the whole of dungeon meshi, he never says what he trully thinks unless there's an advantage to doing so, he's a people pleaser that does and says anything to make people like/trust him. And yet he immediatly converts into "Mooooooom you're embarassing meeeeee" when he sees it's Milsiril.

This translation used "Mom" but as I understand the original he uses the more formal version so I think it would be closer to "Mother" but still he acknowleges her as his Mother, and he acts like her kid in every interaction we see between them.

I really don't understand where the idea that he learned to be fake from being "forced" to be her adoptive son comes from.

(Continuing under a cut)

The other interaction we see between them is the Kabru extra from the Adventurer's Bible

Kabru comes to her with a deep fear he clearly has had even before she adopted him, he trusted her with this fear and she did not disappoint him, she comforted him and then gave him the information he needed to believe what she was saying

I'd also like to point out in no moment she discouraged him from calling his his bio-mom "Mom". He also says she taught her children everything they asked

I doubt this would only be true for him, it also mirrors something she said in the manga

"You can go ahead and learn all you want about something else." I believe it when Kabru says she made every effort to answer her children's questions. I think this is also the way she expresses the love she has for them. Plus I love the thought bubble with Kabru mirroring what he learned from her. I also love this daydream hour, she sacrifices her own comfort to do something for Kabru.

Milsiril isn't a perfect mother tho, besides the fact she is overprotective she comes from a very different culture from her children. I like to call her Kabru's white mom cause I think that would be the real world equivalent. This extra is the one I think the most about showing this context perfectly

Kabru wants to share Utaya sweets but looks at his mom looking gloomy/rejected so he talks about fruitcake instead. This very rude for Milsiril to do since she's kinda trying to overwrite his actual cultural background, but I think its done more as a "I want you to like the things I like" rather than something nefarious, and once again Kabru doesn't hide at all his distaste for it, he does the bare minimum to please his mom since she's being dramatic but he doesn't lie to her, he shows how displeased he is about fruitcake, something he refuses to do when eating the harpy omelette that is way worse, because he must make a good impression for Laios. Kabru is honest with his overbearing white mom once again.

Now a little about Rin, from Kabru's context, this is her extra in the Adventurer's Bible

(look at Helki he's such a gremlin i love him) anyway, Rin has a trauma about elves, they really mistreated her so she hates them, but when they notice she isn't thriving they go to Milsiril for help (Helki specifically I'll talk more about him next). I think this indicates she really has a better understanding of short lived kids, her kids are thriving differently from the ones the other elves try to care for. I'd also like to remember she lives secluded from other elves so while Kabru probably had lots of interactions with elves during his life, most of it was probably spent with Milsiril and her other adoptive kids. She also asks Kabru if he would do this to help Rin, he isn't being forced or anything, I also think it's good that Milsiril knows she cant take in any more kids, this to me shows she's worried about the quality of life her kids have. That is all to say, Rin is the one with elf trauma, not Kabru, because Kabru had Milsiril to shelter him from them.

Helki

This will be short and sweet since there's barely anything about Helki, he's her prisioner companion from her time in the canaries, but he was pardoned after Utaya, it says so in the Canarie's Structure page in the new adventurer's guide but I cant really find it translated again... so here's google's machine translation (I remember it saying "Retired and pardoned as a reward after Utaya", something like that)

so officially he isn't a prisoner anymore, but I think he still works as a canary, even so he and Milsiril seem quite close, he is the one to go talk to her about Rin, He is there when she's training Kabru (both laughing at Kabru and then participating). I saw people theorizing she stays close to him because he is also someone who she can feel superior to, but I don't believe it at all, he's STILL in contact with her even after they have nothing to with each other, I think they really have a friendship, and there's no point where it seems like she feels like she's better than him or that he's less than her, people seem to interpret Milsiril and her relationships in the worst possible ways every time and I don't understand why.

This segways into Mithrun

I've also seen people assuming she only got close to Mithrun because now he needs her and has no power over her, once again with the theory that Milsiril surrounds herself with people she can feel superior to. But once again, Milsiril had a change of perspective about Mithrun after seeing his Dungeon

Rather than she feeling superior to him I think rather she realized he was just like her. (And I think she's friends with Helki for a similar reason, it's probably easier to see him as an equal than other nobles)

I've also seen this part used as proof of that. "He said that you've got suspicious ulterior motives and that I shouldn't listen to you" as if that's true, but this is past Mithrun, the one that didn't trust anyone and thought ill of all his teammates, ofc he doesn't believe someone would help him without an ulterior motive. This doesn't prove much about her real motivations.

Also before she showed up, Mithrun was being cared for by servants hired by his brother, he isn't someone helpless she has power over, he is still a member of an important Noble family that has a caring brother providing for him, he can do without Milsiril, he had done without her for 20 years before Utaya happened and she quit the Canaries.

This is all to say I think Milsiril is just a white(elf) adoptive mom doing her best, I don't see much of anything nefarious about her or her motivations, she is flawed as all the dunmeshi characters are, she isn't a perfect mom, she isn't an evil mom, she's just a person.

Elves in general also see short lived species as "children" so I imagine this makes her "You'll always be my baby" attitude way worse, she really treats pre-teen/teen Kabru like he's a toddler sometimes. But she also respected him enough to go all out in training him. I think they're a family with everything that entails.

PS: I didn't get much into Interracial adoption since this is something that happens irl too and I don't know much about all the issues that entails, but in the end, in this case, it seems like a net positive for the kids she adopts considering all we see about how she raised Kabru.

[boygirlctommy]

ok i really need to rewatch these games bcus i dont understand what half of these notes are referencing but me and my brother decided the order was 4-> 5-> 2-> 1-> 3-> 6

[softsunnyy]

hi!!! i just saw your luke hughes thing and I LOVE IT 🥰 but I’m more of a jack girlie so could you write about jack being protective to you after some crazy devils fan is rude to you?

hi sweetie!! sorry it took me a couple days, hope u like it <33

here's some angsty and fluffy Jack just for u

the place was electric, full with fans wearing your boyfriend's team jerseys, and many wearing his last name on the back. Lights illuminating the ice, music filling your ears. People drinking, smiling children, couples in love, and friends betting. 

today would be different tho, because you'll sit close to the ice, away from your friends who usually sat higher up. Jack asked you, convincing you with a couple of kisses and sweet words that made you giggle with love. 

the Devils are facing the Flyers, and you hope it´ll be one of those games that has you on the edge of your seat, screaming and cheering. 

your boyfriend's team has been going through a rough patch, with some heartbreaking losses and others really frustrating.

you had seen Jack in a bad mood, frustrated with himself, and receiving constant talks from different people telling him to just shoot the puck.

you´re his support, even before you were a couple. You keep him grateful, reminding him why he loves what he does so much every day. You help him enjoy, but also process his emotions, giving him a safe space to be himself; away from the cameras, the press, the judging eyes and the cruel questions. 

your relationship is not that new, but for months no one outside your private circle knew about it. You both preferred it that way; private. Unfortunately, one night a video was leaked of the two of you in your car, arriving at a game when some fans stopped you. Since then you´ve also been part of his public life, where some of his fans love you, talking about how happy you make him; and others hate you, saying that the Devils' recent results are due to you and your relationship with their star. 

you usually try to avoid these comments, knowing full well that most of them come from people who are frustrated, and who are trying to find a reason, someone to blame, so they don't get angry with their team anymore. You understand it, you don't share it, but you can understand where they´re coming from, and you try your best not to take it too personally.

when the game started, the speed was incredible, mesmerizing. Your eyes move, following the players. You cheer, you get angry, you get happy. You're caught up in the game, becoming one with the people in the crowd, hoping that luck will be in your favor that night. 

the first two periods were tense. Some stupid penalties, many shots on goal, but no goals. The crowd is hungry. The chants from the fans are incredibly loud, stunning you. 

anxiety consumes you, you want the game to move forward, for the boys to win. Besides being Jack's girlfriend, you're a fan of the sport, you understand what you're watching and you get to a point where your emotions depend a little on how that game went. 

you get frustrated, you get happy, you live it as if you were playing. You even try to learn from the players, giving your boyfriend some advice when you sit on the couch to watch the replay, making him notice certain details that can help him.

that's why you feel devastated. With only 20 seconds left, in a 0-0 game, one of them steals the puck from Jack and scores the winning goal, in front of a stunned, hopeless arena, that went completely silent for a few seconds. 

you see the faces of the team as they begin to surrender, sighing, convincing themselves that in the remaining seconds they´re not gonna be able to do anything. 

but what hurts you the most is seeing Jack's face, and the way it fills with frustration. His stick crashed on the ice when he returned to the bench 

it's a depressing end to a game that everyone thought would end differently. You could already see the articles for the next few hours, or the cruel comments from the reporters. Everyone questioning Jack, like in his first season. 

with a sigh you get up, ready to buy something to drink before approaching the locker room, knowing that the boys would take a while before coming out. 

as you went to buy a coffee, you tried to be quick, trying not to be seen. You thought you won, but as you were on your way to the locker room, with your coffee in hand, someone called your name, making you turn around, with tense shoulders and somewhat confused. 

“yes?” you asked, seeing a man, somewhat drunk, approach you.

“you should tell your boyfriend to learn how to play, y´know?” he said, slurring his words and standing a little too close for your liking. You frowned, moving away slightly as you tried not to grimace at the smell of alcohol reaching your face. 

“sure... have a good night,” you said quietly, trying to avoid the situation, feeling nervous with the interaction. 

“i always said that bitches make these players play like shit,” he said, ignoring the way you wanted to leave. “Jackie’s been playing like a pussy since he started dating you.” You tried to keep walking, but he was coming up behind you, his voice rising with every word. A few people turned to look, but kept walking, clearing that area in a matter of seconds as everyone left frustrated after that game. 

“excuse me, sir, i understand your frustration but…” you started to say, turning to look at him, your senses on alert and anxiety seeping into every part of your body. He interrupted you before you could finish. 

“no, you clearly don’t understand, you’re just a silly brat who’s ruining our star.” He approached you again, your hand gripping the coffee tighter, full of tension. 

“i’m sorry sir, i didn’t…”

“shut up!” he raised his voice, and a sharp pain settled in your chest. Your legs feel like jelly and you feel nauseous. You wanna run, scream, leave. You feel humiliated, scared, frustrated. You want to leave. You wanna throw your coffee and run to your car, away from people, away from that. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he asked you, frowning and getting dangerously close to you. 

at that moment a hand landed on your waist, fast, agile, and moved you backwards. Soon your boyfriend’s body was in front of you, facing the man, who opened his eyes wide, surprised. The man stammered, distracted, forgetting for a moment all the rage he felt. 

Jack was about to explode. He was coming out of the locker room, with Timo at his side. His head was somewhere else, and all he wanted was to take refuge in your arms and recharge his energy. It was a surprise when his teammate gently nudged him with his elbow to get his attention. 

his stomach dropped, his breath hitching. Anxiety, surprise, panic. He could see the way your body looked smaller and smaller.

he reacted automatically, moving before he could think twice. 

“man, what a surprise,” the man said, still disoriented. Jack could smell the alcohol on his breath and frowned. 

“do you have a problem?” he asked, his voice calm, although you noticed the coldness in his words. His arm stretched out at his side, preventing you from getting closer. 

the man laughed nervously and uncomfortably, not looking at you again, now with his eyes fixed on the floor. 

“i don’t wanna see you near her, if you have a problem, you can come talk to me or the coach, or whoever, but not her.” Jack stared at him. Out of the corner of your eye you saw everyone slowly getting closer. Timo had warned them. They were there, they were protecting you too. 

“yeah, i’m sorry,” the man muttered, his face and neck flushed and still looking at the floor. 

“don’t apologize to me man, apologize to her.” this time, Jack failed to hide the disgust in his voice, and he complied, looking at you with panicked eyes. 

“i’m sorry, kiddo, i actually like your relationship, i’m just a little frustrated.” he tried to laugh, but when no one laughed with him he just apologized and tried to leave as quickly as possible. They’ll have to keep an eye on him from now on, Jack thought.

when you saw him disappear behind the doors, the air left your lungs shakily, the now cold coffee almost slipping from your hand. Your body leaned forward, and your free hand rested on your thigh. Jack quickly turned to look at you, and with one of his hands he gently caressed your back. 

“are you okay, babe?” he asked in a sweet and low voice. He knew the answer, but he wanted to check that you were paying attention. You nodded in response, although both of you knew the truth. 

they gave you a few minutes to lower the tension, and then one by one the boys and your friends approached to make sure you were okay, wishing you two a good night and then saying goodbye. 

Luke isn't going to stay with you that night, since he won't be home. So before he left he came over to you to hug you tightly, almost breaking that image of security that you had tried to maintain. Whispers of comfort filled your ear before he pulled away, and with a small smile he left.

when you and Jack were alone, he took your hand and quickly led you to the car. You quickly climbed into the passenger seat, and when he sat down, it only took you a couple of seconds before you burst into tears. His arms wrapped around you tightly, moving your body and settling you on his lap. There, in his arms, was your safe place, where you could break and put yourself back together. 

Jack spent the night reminding you how important you are to him, because he would never let you forget that, but at the same time, you did not forget him, and you tried your best to comfort him. 

cuddled up in the bed you both share, you found your safe place again, where everything would be okay no matter what, because you have each other.

divider by: @cafekitsune