#trying out lots of new things with this story

[silentstaresfanficandfanart]

*raises hand* if you want that you should check out anime it's specifically doing this! this is exactly why anime is so popular! if you *want* adult cartoons that are about meaningful stories, check out anime! It's not that no one makes cartoons that are actually meaningful and aimed at adults, you just have to look outside of america. hopefully with time we see more things like this crop up but until it does, it cant hurt to explore outside of western media if you want to escape it's normal trappings! Check out the classics of anime, check out new popular things, if you want an anime that will completely reshape how you view food? dungeon meshi, if you want to see a story about superheroes who are girls and don't have to be masculine to be impressive and important, Sailor moon! (plus its funny and cute too but also does get quite dark despite what you'd expect!) If you want to see a masterpiece, Watch spirited away or another studio Ghibli movie, if you want something artistic and fascinating and dark thats going to break your heart, MADOKA MAGICA! If you want slice of life comfort that still focuses on adult experiences, you might want to try the iyasheki genre, and specifically i'd suggest "my new boss is goofy" which is a deeply touching little anime about a man who just left from a deeply abusive job and his experiences healing thanks to having a very kind and sweet silly boss who actually cares about him and his interesting coworkers and yes its serious at times, yes its silly at times, but at its core it has a lovely heart that's very touching.

If you want romance? they've got it, fantasy, comedy, and even genres like iyasheki that don't exactly exist much in western media, cartoons CAN be fun and not childish! and childish isint wrong either, you can enjoy a lot of shows aimed at kids that are actually still really solid when you're an adult like my little pony, or bluey! They really are meaningful shows that can still connect with an adult in a way that's amazing. :) I really hope you'll give it a chance! (and if you still dont like that, you can also check out korean and chinese animation though i dont recall what those are called and i dont know as much about them, but they have a LOT of amazing shows too :) ) I hope maybe this helps some to anyone who's looking for cartoons for adults to enjoy! (also reminder: Anime and manga actually have specific genres aimed at adults as well as younger people, and you can look into those if you want something better aimed at those, also horror IS a thing in anime too, you can find some amazing horror anime! So, give it a try! theres no telling what cool stuff you'll find!)

hey quick question why are all adult cartoons like that 

[the-boy-meets-evil]

where you belong | kmg

(where the holidays bring you back to the person and place you need to be.)

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader genre: exes to lovers (lite) | fluff & smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~1.2k warnings: kissing, smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this, they're in love), that's really it

note: SURPRISE EM! 💕🫶🏻 this is for my baby @gyuswhore for the secret santa event hosted by @camandemstudios. i was so happy to get you and i hope you're surprised that it was me. this was a lot of fun!

tag list: @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harrythepottypus, @okiedokrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @tusswrites, @kaepjjangiya

There’s something about the holidays that always has you reflecting on the last year. It’s kind of a way for you to figure out what works and what doesn’t before starting fresh in the new year. The past year has been a blur of keeping busy and projects for work. It feels incredibly fulfilling in so many ways. All things considered, it’s been a really good year for you. 

Yet, you can’t keep your mind off the start of the year when you and your boyfriend broke things off. It isn’t some sad story of heartbreak or someone doing something horrible. You both just realized, as you spent New Year’s Eve apart because of work, that maybe it was a sign to give yourselves a chance at something different. Both of you agreed that it made the most sense. Life was pulling you in different directions and it felt like the time to really push forward in your separate work lives. 

If it’s meant to be, it’ll always find a way. You genuinely believe that. So, when your ex walks into the tiny little coffee shop two days before Christmas, you take it as something of a sign. You shouldn’t even still be in the city and this isn’t a coffee shop you’ve ever been to before. But, your travel plans got delayed and you’ve been meaning to try this place for months. His eyes land on you from his position by the counter and he doesn’t seem surprised either. Your heart constricts a little at that shy smile and the way his shaggy hair bounces as he shakes his head. 

“I can’t believe my luck,” Mingyu says when he approaches. “I figured you’d be gone.” 

“I had something come up last minute. I was supposed to leave last night,” you say and he smiles. 

“I’m not sure I want to leave at all now,” he admits. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you.”

“Yeah, same,” you admit. 

“I just moved and I actually live around the corner. Do you want to catch up?” he asks.

“Let me just get my coat.” 

Catching up goes from filling each other in on the last year to Mingyu cooking the best meal you’ve had in ages to lounging on the couch and laughing over silly shows. It’s easy to fall back into such a sense of comfort with him. Every part of you still seems to know every part of him. Some things you would have to explain to anyone else just instantly make sense to him. But, it feels different too. It feels like the last year has allowed you both to realize what’s actually important. Maybe it taught you how to better prioritize your time. 

Something else is easy, too. You fall back into bed with him without a second thought. This is different now, too. Sex wasn’t ever an issue, but he wants you to show him exactly what you want now. Wants it to be perfect for you. The kind of thing that you can’t ever get over. You’re not really sure you ever got over him the first time and you want to tell him you don’t plan to let go of him this time.

“I’ll teach you whatever you want to know,” you tell him. 

“Teach me how to be good for you,” he answers, breathless. 

And you do. Mingyu is a giver, always has been. This is more than that, though. This Mingyu wants to map your reactions to every little thing he does. He wants to watch the way you squirm when his tongue flicks against your clit just right. Wants to memorize the way your thighs squeeze his head when he licks into you. Even if it’s always been good, it’s never been like this. It’s never felt like he’s worshipping your body in quite this way. 

With a moan, your back arches against this bed and your hands scramble to find purchase on something. Anything. You try to keep up a stream of instructions like you said you would, but Mingyu’s also a very fast learner. It doesn’t take him long until his mouth is moving in the perfect way between your legs. Only take one comment for him to add a finger. Doesn’t need to be told how to hit you just right with those fingers. You’re a writhing mess and you’re not even sure that you can think straight anymore. He’s got you seeing stars as you come hard on his tongue and his fingers. 

“I’m not sure you need me to teach you anything,” you say after catching your breath for a second. 

Mingyu’s got a bit of a smirk on his mouth, still glistening a little. “Maybe I just like hearing you talk me through things when you’re coming undone.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” you joke back. 

“We can see if you need to teach me anything else,” he says with that sparkle still in his eyes. 

“You’re not done with me?” you ask and try not to sound too hopeful.

“No,” he says and kisses you before you can respond in any way. 

It always seemed crazy to you to think that someone could kiss you stupid. Until Mingyu kisses you like that after nearly a year apart. Until you remember all the kisses for every different occasion. Now it just seems crazy to think there’s anyone out there for you other than him. He keeps kissing you as he settles his body between your legs, hovering his body just over yours so that he doesn’t put too much weight on you. Keeps kissing you as he uses a hand to line himself up at your entrance. Keeps kissing you as he slowly presses into you. The pace is slower than you want, filled with all the things you’re feeling. All the affection and reverence that he’s always shown you. 

“Mingyu, please, I need more,” you finally moan out. 

And it happens like that again. He lets you teach him just the pace that you want. He lets you set the rhythm alternating between slow, languid strokes and hard, fast snaps of his hips. Everything else around you disappears. All you see is the love in his eyes as he takes you in. Everything about this moment is perfect. The absolute best way that you can imagine to end the year. Almost as good as him pushing you to a second orgasm just before he follows right after you.

It seems too early to be awake if the light coming in through the cracks in Mingyu’s curtains is any indication, but the smell of coffee wafts tantalizingly into the bedroom. You’re incredibly thankful that you changed all of your holiday plans to stay with Mingyu. It clearly isn’t just the post-sex haze that has you wanting to stay. Your heart is full to bursting with warmth. He’s always been it for you and you’re thankful that you get to spend another holiday with him. 

So, you pull on a baggy shirt Mingyu has lying by the side of the bed and slide out of bed. You walk over to the window to see what’s making it seem a little brighter outside. Amazingly, snow falls gently in beautiful, swirling patterns. The whole world is quiet and you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. 

I hope you enjoyed it ❤️

[giselleloversclub]

NCT SMAU REC PT.3

mark lee

dm for prices @susicheng

small lifestyle influencer yn, who also happens to be a stressed college student, runs into a life threatening dilemma: plug moved to a different state post grad. having developed a crippling dependency on her weekly smoke sesh, she needs someone new, FAST. luckily, chenle seems to know just the guy. enter: mark lee, an astoundingly reliable plug with an interesting texting style. 

plug! mark x fem! reader

personal fav !

⋆ you. @fairyoflia

in which a biology major and a basketball player lock eyes on the train after getting caught in the rain. unfortunately for them, they hate each other.

basketball player! mark lee x fem! reader

from the rooftops @peterm4rker

in which biochemistry major mark lee didn’t have time to be swinging around the city fighting crime when he had a chemistry report due in two days and a whole plan to make the girl of his dreams to fall in love with him before the new years party.

or

in which journalism major y/n l/n needed her ground breaking story of the year before fuckass yuna took her place in the college newspaper and decided her favorite superhero was the answer, all while trying to get that cute biochem student to notice her.

spiderman!mark x journalist!reader

_______________________________________________

huang renjun

starlight @suhnandmoon

after an unexpected night at the movies, you’re left turned into a vampire. with the help of park jisung and his friends, your new lifestyle adjustments are thankfully made a lot easier. that is until your friends start to call out your flaky behavior. quick, how are you going to cover up your secret? a fake boyfriend taking up your time? perfect! huang renjun is just the right guy!

huang renjun x fem!reader

vampire au

crush culture @suhnshinehaos

ln yn has always flirted with huang renjun. but they do that with literally everyone else too, they couldn’t possibly be serious about pursuing him, right? on their final year of university, yn is determined to show that they are. with all the walls that renjun has built around himself, will they be strong enough to succeed in tearing them down?

huang renjun x gn!reader

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞 @sungbeam

you and renjun are pen-pals-turned-best-friends, except, no one knows that you know each other. at the same time, both you and renjun are also trying to survive being set up with people by your own separate friend groups. turns out, maybe you both just want each other and no one else.

huang renjun x fem!reader

_______________________________________________

lee jeno

LOVE ON THE (DANCE) FLOOR @v1si0n

jeno was not thrilled about you joining his dance team, especially because he starts messing up every time you’re around. is it really his fault that he gets distracted by how good you look when you dance?

enemies to lovers

dancer!jeno x bookworm!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ off the record @strrykais

someone had to write for the sports column in your schools paper, and unfortunately it falls onto you. only knowing very little about basketball - thanks to your friend chenle, this shouldn't be so bad!

well, that was until you meet the team’s captain and he rudely asks if you are deaf.... funny thing is, you are!

lee jeno x fem!reader

personal fav

good graces @106alibi

y/n knows she's petty. so when she found out her (secret) celebrity boyfriend of a year had been cheating on her, through a news article to make things worse, she decided to cook up an action plan to get back at him, and what better way to take revenge than to get together with his all-time favourite athlete?

or, in which y/n involves an unsuspecting lee jeno into her little revenge scheme on her now ex-boyfriend.

boxer!jeno x magazine-editor!reader

personal fav

secret admirer @diaphamin

in which ncit’s star basketball player lee jeno is your secret admirer

lee jeno x reader

my youth , your kitchen @cigsaftersuh

in which y/n, a pre-med student, who loves to cook & feed people, meets jeno, the quiet sports science major with a soft smile, and discovers that the way to someone’s heart really is through their gastrointestinal tract, their stomach.

non-idol! jeno x f! reader (.◜◡◝)

good boy @fullsunstrawberry

New year's resolution leads to you hitting the gym with your two muscle-head friends. But things get complicated when feelings and emotions are involved.

Jeno x Reader (some anton x reader)

underneath the tree @winwintea

you’ve heard enough of the word ‘christmas’ and it was only the beginning of december! sometimes you’d wish people would just throw their cheerfulness out the window and focus on reality. unfortunately for you lee jeno has just drawn your name for the company’s annual secret santa swinter swap and he’s going to make sure you get a gift you’ll never forget. (and maybe even get you to appreciate christmas along the way?)

co-worker!lee jeno x female!reader

oh , pretty please ? @nislost

After being scolded by a teacher y/n decides she’s sick of failing her classes. she knows if she doesn’t get her act together she might not even make it in life. she decides to seek help from the one student that that can potentially help her, jeno the valedictorian. jeno would only accept if y/n helped him in some way too.

valedictorian!jeno x bimbo!reader

_______________________________________________

lee haechan

on the same page @johnnysuhbmarine

Knowing a change of scenery was what your mental health needed, you transferred to where your brother, Mark, goes to college. The good news is, he’s not too cool for his younger sister, so he lets you join his friend group immediately. The bad news is, Haechan is in that friend group, and a brief encounter four years ago was enough for you to understand he does NOT like you. Even worse news, he’s a lot hotter than he was four years ago…

Haechan x reader

personal fav

lab rats ! @106alibi

graded internship season has finally rolled around for biology student y/n, and with a current gpa of 4.0 under her belt and an extremely high possibility of graduating valedictorian, she's fairly confident that acing her research internship will be just what she needs to secure that spot. of course, that was until a certain someone came into the equation.

or, y/n finds herself partnered with the last person she'd ever want to work with for her research internship, lee donghyuck.

biology-student!donghyuck x biology-student!reader

how not to be a virgin 101 @diaphamin

college is about gaining further education, to some, but to y/n it means she is finally free to explore the side of life she was never able to. parties, relationships, and sex. she was tired of being dull, tired of being the only one around her who hasn’t experienced anything romantic. she was ready to be the exact opposite of what she wasn’t. the only problem being… she doesn’t know how. that’s when she calls upon haechan, someone notoriously known for having a bit too much fun… and asks him for guidance.

where you are @luvmahae

what the absolute fuck is up baby! fall semester marks the peak of greek life at ncu. the campus quad is filled with tents representing various fraternities and sororities with their letters proudly presented in front of each booth, all eager to recruit new members. as students return to campus, they are met with a flood of fliers and invitations to parties, mixers, and rush events. while you were walking through the crowd of eager freshmen to join these organizations, you bumped into someone very unexpected...

what do you do when you bump into the guy you hooked up with after a music festival during summer break? instead of the royal blue basketball jersey you first met him in, it was replaced by a varsity jacket with the letters reading "ΝΧΘ".

"haechan?"

fratboy!haechan x fem!reader

personal fav

nerf this ! @injvns

in which overwatch streamer yn ln is on a winning streak one night, and sorta kinda ends up killing professional overwatch player lee haechan on stream…multiple times. she didn't even know who he was, let alone that he was super hot?! c'mon, she wouldn't have smoked him THAT hard if she knew!

or

yn starts overwatch beef with haechan accidentally. romance ensues.

progamer!haechan x streamer!femreader

cruise of love @mixxiew

yn, a scholarship student, finally gets the opportunity of her life to join her friends for the Semester at the Sea. every thing looks like a dream until the arrogant rich boy lee haechan crushes into her.

haechan x reader

just pretend ! @nislost

y/n gets hit up by her ex and in a desperate attempt to have him leave her alone she gets a random picture of a guy on pinterest and pretends he’s her bf. turns out the picture she used is of an up and coming youtuber lee haechan.

nonidol!haechan x f!reader

sunshine and starlight @lavndrystudios

haechan gets more than he bargained for when he meets chaeyoung’s new roommate. turns out he loves you, he really does. too bad you’re with ten.

haechan x f!reader

APT @sourrpatched

“Don’t you want me like I want you baby?”

After a uni party full of too many drinks and party games, y/n meets the love of her life. Only the next morning she can’t remember his name, his face, or anything besides his very attractive hands.

Lee Donghyuck lives a simple life, work, school, and sleep. He has no business in being dragged into parties every weekend. Which is why bumping into his complete opposite is enough to bring him out of that shell, albeit with force.

LEE DONGHYUCK X FEM!READER

you’re losing me. @najaemism

it’s been six weeks since you ended your six-year relationship with haechan, and it seems like he’s already moved on.

angst, ex!haechan, hurt/no comfort

it's the way you are @inurnctdreams

y/n suh is going into her second semester of her sophomore year at snu. as a self-proclaimed snu lions fangirl, she can’t believe there’s a new player on the team she hasn’t met yet, especially one as cute and funny as lee donghyuck, who nearly everyone she knows seems to already be friends with. how did she manage to avoid him (even if unintentionally) for almost an entire year and a half? he seems way too good to be true… and then she remembers; he’s in the frat.

haechan x fem!reader

_______________________________________________

na jaemin

builds @moonslie04 In which streamer! Jaemin joins a random player's world and starts to roast their build without knowing that the innocent player was another genshin content creator.

˙⋆✮ bed chem ✮⋆˙ @wonbin-truther

when jaemin saw the big red "16%" on his first organic chemistry test, he knew he needed a tutor, fast. enter l/n y/n, a chemical engineering student who is determined to raise his grade. but as study sessions turn into late-night library marathons, jaemin is starting to realize he’s got more than just organic chemistry to worry about.

college student yn x college student jaemin

movie nights @nana4nena

while you’re having weekly movie nights with the dreamies, you and jaemin are falling in love, but someone is falling for you

jaemin x fem! reader

✮⋆˙ .exposure. @susicheng

a member of the up-and coming pop-punk / emo band, reverie: yn finds herself falling in the deep end with the band's new (much needed) photographer, na jaemin.

na jaemin x fem!reader ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

_______________________________________________

zhong chenle

run your mouth @doughyk

chenle has a worm in his ear;not a good worm either, and it doesn’t seem to go away. But there you are, the worm in his ear. Yapping his ear off during work, absolutely smitten by him…chenle not so smitten by you.

nonidol!chenle x fem reader

personal fav

say it @sqh3e

you and Chenle are in the same music class at SMU, you write the songs, he sings them. for a few weeks you stopped showing up and no one realized you hadn’t been showing up until your friend mentions your name.

singer!chenle x fem!reader

_______________________________________________

park jisung

SCUM'S WISH 𓆩♡𓆪 @jungaji

struggling with unrequited feelings, you and park jisung agree to a fake relationship to ease your loneliness, filling the gaps left by others. with promises not to fall for each other and to part ways if your affections are reciprocated elsewhere, you jump into this arrangement. can you both stick to the rules, or will the lines between pretense and reality blur?

or, in which you and park jisung turn to each other for comfort in an attempt to soothe your unrequited loves.

park jisung x fem!reader feat. jeong jaehyun & cho miyeon

_______________________________________________

[mask131]

Normally I would have reblogged this to my Oz side-blog but I will reblog this here first because somehow there's more Oz fans here than on my Oz sideblog? Tumblr is weird...

Upon seeing this very popular post I have to add my two cents of a thoughts... Because while I agree with half of it, I disagree with another half, and it's mostly a question of nuance.

My main point is: It is not because people dump on Wicked that in return people should dump on Baum's Oz. I am saying that in regard of the "Oz originally doesn't have any continuity". I admit myself I am one of the first people to put forward the fact Baum was a bit of an anti-Tolkien when it came to Oz because at one point he didn't care about logical and coherent worldbuilding and just threw whatever he wanted at the wall... HOWEVER! I realize now how these words might mis-guide people because it doesn't mean Baum didn't care about continuity at all.

The early Oz books are actually trying to form a coherent whole. When Baum wrote "The Marvelous Land of Oz" he was not FORCED to do it because of "popular demand". He wanted to do it. Partially because he wanted to adapt it as a musical once it was over, but when he wrote the novel he still intended it to be a logical, continuing sequel to his Wonderful Wizard of Oz, and he worked to refit elements taken from his musical adaptations (like Pastoria) into the world of Oz as presented in his first novel. Same thing with the third novel, Ozma of Oz - when you read these first three books one after another they are cohesive. Just because later Baum decided to abandon a bit continuity and do massive retcons for the sake of telling new stories doesn't mean he never cared about continuity, and the start of the Oz series was an effort to make one complete world that made sense. Oz first became a series because Baum wanted it to be ; the whole thing of a "sense of duty towards the fandom" (which wasn't actually a sense of duty, his others works just didn't sell while everybody bought his Oz books) came later.

Yes, after the sixth book (which was meant to be the great finale but didn't work to end the series), Baum ended up making a LOT of books that openly contradicted the worldbuilding established in the first novels... But they still were coherent and cohesive in their own right. It is just that Baum chose to retcon and massively shift some worldbuilding rules in order to have a setting perfect for a kid-friendly long-running series where he could include everything and anything - but once he established these new rules, he stuck to it and explored them in various ways (such as the rule of "No living being can die in Oz", which of course contradicts the early books, but becomes a core principle of "later Oz" and is explored in various novels - such as the one introducing the Tin Soldier). Yes Baum contradicted, shifted and retconned, but to say he had no sense of continuity or canon is frankly way too harsh.

We were having a talk with @themousefromfantasyland about Baum's The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus novel, and he did make a point that this books contradicts the "anti-Tolkien" reputation of Baum as in there you have a strong, solid, complex worldbuilding working very well for its own little Christmas epic, self-contained in one sturdy novel. And that's the thing with Baum: outside of his Oz series, each of his individual works had a strong and solid worldbuilding, or nice continuity in the case of mini-eries. Oz was an exception just because it went on for way more than what he already planned, and Baum had to juggle between various media (the Oz franchise he run wasn't just novels, it was also stage musicals, movies, and even early comic books).

My second point is this: I do agree people shouldn't entirely reject Maguire's novel out of it being "non-canon" to Oz. Because it is part of a long series of revisionist works inventing, reinventing or twisting Oz in various ways. The MGM movie was first, but you have so many, from The Wiz to Emerald City, passing by Tin Man, or Lost in Oz, or to have something more akin to Maguire's 90s dark, edgy, sex-and-drugs counter-culture approach to Oz, the Oz Squad comics. HOWEVER! HOWEVER! I do think it is important to remind people Maguire wrote his own thing, on his own side, and that "Wicked" is its own thing.

What do I mean by that? Very simple... I have seen, looked at, chatted and interacted with a concerning number of people who are convinced Wicked (be it the musical or the novels) are "canon" in the sense that... somehow they believe when Maguire named his Wicked Witch of the West Elphaba, it retro-actively baptisez the Witch of the West in Baum's novel. Or that the Wicked musical was actually allowed or produced by the MGM as an "official" complement to their movie, meant to act as a real prequel to it. You should not underestmate how POPULAR Wicked was compared to other Oz revisionist works or adaptations, resulting in a lot of people ending up knowing only the MGM movie and the Wicked franchise, sometimes with Return to Oz, and not knowing anything about the novels. This results in fascinating though very puzzling misconceptions. I have seen people insist that Evillene in The Wiz should be called "Elphaba" because it is the "official" name of the Wicked Witch of the West. I have seen people claiming to adapt the Wizard of Oz by Baum but really just doing adaptations of Wicked the musical, and not realizing they were using tons of stuff that were copyrighted by the musical creators and not in Baum's original novel. I have seen a lot of people claim that Baum intended Glinda to be called "Galinda" and that it is more correct to refer to Glinda by this name...

Yes, Wicked is its own continuity and branch of the large Oz family tree. Just like the MGM movie and its various adaptations. Just like Disney's Oz the Great and Powerful, or Return to Oz. Just like the Wiz. Just like Volkov's Tales of Magic Land (well... cough cough there's a bit of more unclear legal things down there but you know). Just like Tin Man or Emerald City. People should be aware that Oz is a LARGE franchise of many, MANY media.

But there is also a frightening amount of people who take literaly what Maguire wrote: "it is the real story of the Wicked Witch of the West", they take it literaly. Mind you this was more prominent in the 2000s and early 2010s - I think things got better recently because people are getting much more aware of the original books and of other alternate Oz media... But you know, at one point there was a need to point out "Hey guys, you know Maguire invented stuff, right? That he is basically parodying and twisting stuff and creating his own thing not in the public domain? Please stop saying Elphaba is public domain, she is not. This little wrinkled one-eyed hag is."

I've seen a lot of people lately harping about how "Wicked isn't canon to the Oz universe", "it's just glorified fanfiction", etc., and I can't express how silly that is, and how annoyed it makes me every time I hear it, lol. Baum's original Oz books were never meant to be some canonical series — they contradict each other constantly; Baum called it a "fairy story" with loose cohesion at best; and it only became a series at all because the first one got popular enough that Baum felt a duty to the fandom to keep making more (even after he had wanted to end it). And the 1939 film is every bit as much "fanfiction" as Wicked — it changes the story in both major and minor ways, including a complete shift of framing (i.e., making Oz into a dream rather than a real place).

Maguire's great contribution to the overarching legacy and lore of Oz was to harmonize the very weak "canon" of the older works with a different shift in framing: recontextualizing all of the prior Oz material as a revisionist history (going off of Baum's own idea framing of himself as a "Royal Historian of Oz"), and attempting to tell "the true story" behind the other works (fictively of course — we're never meant to literally think Maguire's version preceded Baum's, irl). In literary studies, this is called an urtext. The Wicked Years and its adaptations are as much "fanfiction" as the 1939 film: it's just self-aware of that fact in a way that earlier works weren't, and uses that perspective to deconstruct the material and explore deeper (and darker) themes — not simply adapting or reimagining the original text (as the 1939 movie did), but actively challenging it; interrogating it. It's not meant to be "canon" as such: it asks you to ask whether (and why) there is such a thing, and what that might say about the stories that we are meant to literally believe in, in real life.

[luvleyshif4]

LOST IN TRANSLATION

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: it’s hard to talk to someone American when you don’t know English….so what happens when you meet an American boy who doesn’t know your language either…now you’re stuck with An unexpected meeting, unspoken words, and a connection that lingers…

Warnings: language barriers, reader is Italian, reader doesn’t know English, reader is a barista, tiny bit of awkwardness, based in Florence, possibly mispronunciation of the Italian language, a bit of anxiety (doesn’t have a lot of serious warnings)

Word count: 1.04k words

Authors note: hey guys!! just so you know, I don’t speak Italian at all so there is a possibility that I might have mispronounced the Italian I used in the story, but I really liked writing this one. I was watching a movie the other day and I kind of got the idea from that. hope y’all like it!!! (I want this to happen to me..)

The café in the middle of Florence was quieter than usual today, and the stillness only made the air feel heavier. You shifted behind the counter, the familiar hum of the coffee machine and the soft clink of cups the only sound filling the space. There was a certain unease growing in the pit of your stomach as you worked.

Today, you were alone, with your friend not coming in for their shift. It wasn’t the first time, but it always made you nervous. You were still new at this job, still figuring out the flow, and not being able to rely on someone else was making it a bit harder than usual.

You sighed quietly, trying to shake off the anxiety. It wasn’t like anyone was going to walk in and make things worse, right?

Then, the bell above the door jingled, and your eyes lifted instinctively.

A man walked in. His presence was undeniable—a tall, buzzed-haired figure with striking blue eyes that seemed to hold a spark of something you couldn’t place. He moved with confidence, his gaze sweeping the room, and when it landed on you, it felt like everything else in the café faded into the background. You weren’t sure why, but something about him made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t felt that way before, and it was a bit unsettling. Still, you tried not to let it show as you greeted him.

“Ciao, benvenuto! Cosa posso offrirti oggi?”(Hello, welcome! What can I offer you today?)

He didn’t immediately respond, and after a brief pause, you noticed the slight furrow of his brow. He was looking at you, but you could see the confusion in his eyes. Slowly, he opened his mouth, and his voice was thick with an accent, “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Italian…. Do you speak English?”

Your stomach tightened. Of course, you had already guessed he didn’t speak Italian, but hearing it out loud only made the weight of your nerves feel heavier. You quickly nodded, offering a small smile. “Un po’ di inglese,”( a little English,) you said, your voice shaking just a little. “Not much…”

He looked at you for a moment longer, as though deciding whether to press on. Then, he smiled softly. “No problem,” he said in English, though it was clear that even his words came with some difficulty. “Uhhh… Uno cappuccino?”

You nodded quickly, feeling a small sense of relief that the order was something familiar. “Cappuccino,” you said, trying to keep things simple. The rest was up to you, though. You could make the coffee, but the conversation would be a bit more challenging.

As you began preparing the cappuccino, you could feel his gaze on you. It was like a weight on your skin, but not an uncomfortable one. It was as if he was taking in every small movement you made, and your cheeks flushed under the intensity of it. You tried to focus on the task at hand, but the way he looked at you made it hard to concentrate.

When you hold the cappuccino in front of him, your fingers brushed against his as he took it from your hand, you quickly pulled your hand away, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. He seemed to notice and offered you a gentle shy smile.

You glanced up at him, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. He looked down at the drink, then back at you. “I—uh, I don’t speak Italian very well,” he said again, breaking the silence, “but You….you’re really beautiful…..” he said, his English slow and deliberate, the words lingering in the air.

You blinked, unsure of what he meant.

you didn’t fully understand his words so You tilted your head, unsure how to respond, your nerves coming back tenfold.

He noticed your confusion and chuckled lightly. There was a certain warmth to it, though. He pointed at the small flowerpot sitting on the counter beside you, then back at you, his gaze lingering on your face. “You,” he said, “like this. Beautiful.”

You followed his finger and then looked back at him, finally understanding what he meant. He had compared you to the bright, delicate flowers in the pot, and for some reason, that comparison made your heart race even more. You weren’t sure how to react, but a small shy smile tugged at your lips, and your face flushed redder than before.

“Grazie…”(thank you…) you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. The simple word felt like the only thing you could say in that moment.

He smiled, his expression softening, and there was something in his eyes and the way he too had a rosy tint to his cheeks that made your heart flutter all over again.

The moment stretched for a beat, before he cleared his throat and reached into his pocket. He handed you the money for the cappuccino, and you quickly took it, your fingers brushing his once more. He took a step back and nodded.

“I should go,” he said, though there was a hesitation in his voice. “Maybe… I’ll see you again….”

You nodded, a quiet smile still lingering on your lips. “Ciao,” you said softly.

“Ciao…” he says as he gave you one last smile, a lingering glance before turning and heading toward the door. The bell above the door jingled again as he stepped out, and you stood there for a moment, heart still racing.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, still trying to make sense of the brief but undeniably impactful interaction. There was something about him, something you couldn’t put into words, that made your day feel like it had changed in an instant.

You glanced at the cappuccino machine for a moment, lost in thought, before you shook yourself out of it. Stop thinking, you told yourself. You’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to him.

But maybe, just maybe, you’d see him again…

Authors note: this is honestly so cute that I feel like writing another part to it, but let me know If yall like it and if I should write another part!!!

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Not a Creature Was Stirring

Declan O’Hara x Reader

Words: 2677

Summary: Christmas at the Priory gets more complicated with Maud can’t make it back from London. As Declan’s girlfriend, you try to step in to still make it a perfect holiday for him and his kids. Needless to say, things don’t exactly go according to plan. 

Notes: With my love for Aidan Turner, you guys had to know Declan would be joining my list of stories eventually! I love him so much and I’m happy to have him as the subject of my Christmas imagine this year. I hope you all have a happy holidays, whatever you celebrate and a wonderful new year! (and if you recognized the Poldark quote I totally stole, no you didn't)

-

T’was two weeks before Christmas and all through the Priory, everyone buzzed with holiday spirit. Patrick and Caitlin were back from school, Taggie was busy making hors d’oeuvres for all of the holiday parties she’d been hired to cater and you were enjoying a book by the fireplace. The only one who seemed unable to enjoy the season was Declan. He stomped about, going through receipts and orders and cards. His brows furrowed and his mustache curved with the harshness of his frown. 

“I can’t make sense of any of this,” he huffed. “Everything from the last ridiculous party she planned and I still don’t know what to do.”

You set your book aside. Even though Declan and Maud were no longer together, you knew her approval still meant a lot to him. That, and now that he was the face of Corinium, he was expected to be a bit of a socialite as well. 

“Why doesn’t she plan it herself?” You asked. 

He hated getting into the details of these things. As long as there were good drinks and decent music, he seemed happy. 

He ran a hand through his dark curls and collapsed onto the sofa beside you. 

“Because she won’t get here until Christmas Eve.” Declan blew out a long, tired breath. “And the kids have been hounding me about having something here for weeks. I think they’re too cooped up. Tired of the house. Tired of me.”

Caitlin had complained more than once about her ongoing boredom. 

You brought your legs up, draping them over his lap as you turned to face him. His hand found your calf, rubbing circles to soothe both you and himself. 

“Why don’t you let me do it?”

“Do what?”

You flicked his arm. “The planning, silly.” 

“You want to plan Maud’s party?” He scoffed. 

“Sure,” you shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

Declan grinned, snickering.

“What?” You asked. 

He just shook his head and kissed your cheek, pulling you closer as he stared into the fire. 

-

He’d tried to warn you. From the moment you volunteered to take over, Declan had told you it was not a task for the faint of heart. Especially since you were convinced the party had to be as extravagant and special as Maud’s would be. He wanted to tell you there was nothing to prove. That you didn’t need to dazzle everybody and put on some grand show. But you seemed excited to help, so he didn’t say anything. Besides, it was nice to focus on his work rather than invitations to people he’d rather not have to see more than he already did. 

Taggie knocked on the door of his office, apron covered with flour. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Declan glanced up from his papers. Bills he couldn’t pay and assignments he didn’t want. 

“She isn’t here?”

Taggie shook her head. “I was going to ask what she wanted me to make for the party.”

They looked at each other for a while until Declan shrugged.

“I have no idea,” he said. “She hasn’t told me anything.” 

“You mean you aren’t helping?” 

Declan scoffed. “I haven’t exactly had time, Taggie.” He put the papers aside. “And she won’t let me.”

“She won’t let you?”

“No. She won’t let me.”

She sighed. “Reminds me of me.” 

Taggie muttered, while it was nice not to be in charge for one, she felt a twinge of guilt thinking of you trying to throw everything together on your own. 

“If you find her, tell her I want to talk to her,” Declan said. 

Taggie snorted. “Right. Talk.”

“Your sister is rubbing off on you,” Declan groaned. "Run off."

Taggie left snickering. 

Declan tried to focus back on his work, but couldn’t. Maybe Taggie was right. Was he expecting too much of you? He wasn’t exactly known for his observation skills when the subject wasn’t an official or celebrity he wanted to tear apart. He didn’t want a whole fuss of a party anyway and now he was letting you bend over backwards to make it happen. He sighed, running a hand down his face. It was too late, of course. Declan knew if he said anything, you would assume you’d done something wrong. 

Your current situation did little to help. Having spent the last two hours haggling over second-hand decorations, you still didn’t have enough for both the entry hall and the dining room, not to mention other areas of the house. Plus, you’d need to repaint most of the wooden tree decorations, patch up the banners, and glue the ceramic snowman back together. The rest was a haphazard collection of string lights, ornaments, and brass angels you bartered for a steal. For you, it was enough. But for the O’Hara’s? For Declan? 

It was hard not to feel cast into a shadow when his ex was who she was. 

“Why couldn’t Maud be a minimalist?” You groaned. Maybe the girls could help you dig up some more decor from storage. Surely they had a snow or two tucked away somewhere. 

Stars… 

Now that gave you an idea. 

-

12 hours. That’s all the time you had left to prep the best Christmas party Declan’s family could have.

No pressure, right?

With the decorations set- you nearly broke your neck putting them up- now all you needed to do was make enough food for all the people you invited. Taggie had offered to help, but you insisted she spend Christmas Eve about town with her siblings. Of course, this left you standing in front of a dozen empty pans and no idea how to fill them. 

“How does she do this?” You muttered to yourself, looking over the recipe for the thousandth time. Mince pies, cranberry tarts, figgy pudding… it all could have been delivered, but making it yourself was cheaper. You knew money was tight, not that Declan would ever admit it. So it would be the best- and most affordable- Christmas party. 

Declan walked into the kitchen just as you were putting the first round of mini pies in the oven. 

“Maud called,” he sighed. He smoothed his wild curls only for them to pop out again. “She can’t make it.”

You almost dropped the pudding. “What?” 

“She can’t come home for Christmas.” He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but you heard it all the same. “Apparently there’s a big party with lots of directors who might cast her, so she’s staying in London.”

“Oh.” You turned away so he wouldn’t see your face fall. It was silly, really, to be upset. But you hadn’t realized how much you wanted to impress her until now. 

“I’m sorry, love.” Declan came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I know how much work you’ve put into all this.”

Secretly, a small part of him was relieved, though it was a shame the kids wouldn’t see their mother on Christmas. 

Your back stiffened against his chest. 

“This is all the more reason to have this magnificent party,” you said, shrugging him away so you could get back to work. “It’ll be good for Patrick and the girls.”

Declan stood to the side, watching fierce determination overtake your features. 

He exhaled, surrendering. “Alright, love.”

-

The kitchen smelled like smoke and blackened fruit. Coughing, you pulled the tray of unsalvageable tarts from the oven and set them aside. You’d been so busy finishing up the decorations that you’d forgotten about them entirely. You opened the window despite the chill to let out some of the black clouds and godawful odor. 

Just half an hour before guests would start arriving and you’d just ruined half of the desserts. Pouring yourself a glass of whatever was closest, you just hoped they’d be content with free liquor after dinner. Maybe they’d get too drunk to care. 

“Are you setting fire to the entire neighborhood, because if so, at least spare my dogs.” A familiar snark sounded from behind you.

“Rupert? What are you doing here this early?” You gasped, wiping your hands on your apron. “Declan hasn’t had enough whiskey to tolerate you yet.”

“Then you should have invited more people,” he teased. Rupert entered the kitchen, leaning on the counter. “Why don’t you have Taggie help you? She’s perfect at this.” The admiration in his voice was hard to miss, but you ignored it.

“Because she deserves to spend Christmas with her family, not stuck in here with me.”

He raised a finger to point out you counted as family, but you interrupted. 

“And what do you mean, invite more people?” You put your hands on your hips. “I invited half of the Cotswolds.” 

Rupert winced. “Yes, well, that explains this then.” He pulled something from his jacket pocket. A stack of filthy, water-stained envelopes. “I didn’t find them til this morning. Postman must have dropped them in the garden when he got chased off by the dogs.” He handed the ruined invitations over. 

You stared at them, a lump forming in your throat.

“You mean… no one is coming?”

“I’m afraid not, darling.” He plucked a not-charred tart from the tray and popped it in his mouth. “But isn’t this better. A more intimate gathering with your mustachioed man?”

You shook your head, running your hand through your hair, breathing starting to pick up.

“Maud is staying in London,” you blurted. “So the family is without their mother for Christmas and I thought I could-”

“Replace her by throwing some ridiculous party?” He chuckled. His face fell, however, when he saw your lip quiver. “Darling, you know no one expects you to be Maud, don’t you?”

You looked away. 

“Nobody wants that.” He stepped forward. “Y/N, I’m sure they don’t. I’m a little relieved she’s not here, to be honest. She was always a bit much.” 

Shaking fingers struggled to untie your apron. You tossed it aside. 

“I have to go.” You hurried for the door, grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter. 

“Y/N-” He started. 

The door slammed shut behind you. 

Rupert watched you go, sighed, and stole another tart. 

-

As the O’Haras piled into the main hall, Caitlin pinched Taggie’s arm, spotting the Minister of Sport coming out of the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she whispered excitedly, earning a stern glance from their father. 

Taggie gulped. “Neither did I.”

Both watched their father put on a tight smile and approach the other man. 

“Rupert.”

“Declan.” Rupert’s smile was genuine, if not a bit arrogant. “I’m afraid I’ve been the bearer of bad news to your lovely Y/N,” he said. “All her invitations were lost to my flower bushes, left undelivered.”

“So there’s no one coming?” Patrick frowned. He’d hoped to meet some of his father’s good-looking TV hostess coworkers. 

“First mummy, now the whole town. Whatever will we do?” Caitlin said, eying Taggie and scooching her forward. When that didn’t work, she poked her brother. “Patrick scared them off with his terrible poetry.”

Patrick rustled her hair, making her squeak in protest. 

Declan ignored them. He ran a hand down his face and looked around at all you’d set up. You hadn’t even gotten to turn the lights on. 

“She seemed rather upset,” Rupert said, noticing Declan’s concern. “Ran off into the night. Very dramatic.” He leaned forward. “Perhaps you should go find her, hm?” He gave him a knowing look. 

Declan’s heart sank. He knew this wasn’t about the party. Not really. He just wished he’d realized it sooner. And before Rupert Campell-Black.

Starting for the door, he stopped, grabbing Rupert’s arm. 

“Don’t-” He narrowed his eyes, “-touch anything.”

He hurried off.

Rupert turned to the remaining O’Haras. 

“So,” he clapped his hands together. “Who knows where Declan keeps his best scotch?” 

-

He found you sitting on a snowy stump at the edge of the property. Declan watched the deep, shimmering green fabric of your dress sparkle in the moonlight, shifting as you lifted the bottle to your lips. You didn’t seem to see him approaching, eyes trained at the stars. 

“You look-” He sat beside you and kissed your cheek, “beautiful.”

“I don’t feel beautiful,” you muttered, taking another swig. The wine stained your lips a reddish purple but you didn’t care. Nobody would see it anyway. “I failed, Declan.”

“You didn’t fail.”

You scoffed. “The dessert is burnt, the decorations are literally hanging by a thread, and- oh yeah- none of it matters because no one is coming.” You raised your arm for another drink, but Declan grabbed the bottle, bringing it to his lips instead. 

Despite your efforts, your lip trembled. 

“I just wanted your family to have the perfect Christmas,” you said. 

“Is that what you think I care about?” He asked. “The extravagant party? The guests lined up down the pather?” Declan took your hands in his, trying to warm them from the chill. “Y/N, you’ve gotten me to look forward to a holiday for the first time in ages.” He brought your hands up for a lingering kiss. “Just by being you.” 

Your shaking stopped, tears chased away by his soft smile. You snatched the bottle back.

“Flattering will hardly make me feel better, Mr. O’Hara,” you teased. 

He raised a brown and leaned forward. 

“Does this?” He kissed your lips. “Or this?” Your jaw. “Or maybe…” The spot behind your ear. 

“Declan,” you breathed. 

He kept his lips by your ear, whispering. “You don’t have to be any more than you are, to be enough for me.”

Now, your tears returned for a different reason. Throwing your arms around him, you crashed your lips into his, forgetting what you’d been so upset about. Your hands found his hair, tangling those perfect black curls around your fingers. He reached one hand around you to hold you closer while the other rested on your thigh, creeping ever upwards. 

“If nobody is coming, can we start to eat?” Patrick called out over the lawn, making you jolt apart. 

You bit back a laugh, Declan’s face turning pink. “Go ahead!”

“Little bastard couldn’t wait ten more minutes?” Your frustrated boyfriend whined. 

“Ten minutes?” You stood, holding out your hand to help him. 

Declan pinched your upper thigh and scooped you up, both actions eliciting a squeal from your lips as he carried you back. 

-

“Ready?”

“Yes!” They all cheered, impatient.

You giggled, holding the switch captive in your hand. “You don’t look ready.”

“Get on with it, Y/N,” Caitlin whined, “turn them on!”

A chorus of pleas joined her. Declan just laughed, giving you a wide grin.

“You heard them,” he said.

“Alright, alright.”

You flipped the switch. All at once, the main hall lit up, and not just around the tree. Lights strung up above their heads created a canopy of color. Rupert turned on the speakers, filling the space with music. Exclamations of awe and excitement sounded all around you.

“Come on,” Caitlin said, dragging her siblings out to dance with her. Taggie glanced at Rupert, blush flooding her cheeks. He simply motioned for her to go on and dance.

Declan grabbed your hand.

“It’s perfect.” He kissed you deeply, making your knees weak as though he held you up in his embrace.

Caitlin made a teasing sound of disgust, but Taggie couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her father so happy.

Rupert leaned over to you as he strutted to join the others. 

“Told you so,” he whispered. You reached to smack him, but he shimmied out of the way.

“Told you what?” Declan asked. 

You curled a black strand around your finger. 

“That I didn’t have to prove something to be loved by you.”

He pressed a kiss to your palm.

“For once, Rupert and I agree.” He lead you out to dance, swaying slowly despite the cheesy song. 

“Merry Christmas, Declan.” You kissed him again, nuzzling closer. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

And so you all spent Christmas dancing to overplayed tunes under flashy, colorful lights. 

And it was perfect.

[missyonmission]

NSFW - no minors - smut with plot

Plot: You are the campus sweetheart. A high-class, rich girl who's always following the rules. Super kind and friendly to everyone. You are at the top of every class and put your focus and time on studying and family matters, just like you were raised to.

But what happens when you find yourself in one room with the campus troublemaker himself, letting yourself go for the very first time in your life and let him introduce you to a completely new world? A world full of carefree fun, lust, and love, like you never experienced before...

Warnings: bad boy! Sukuna - rich girl! Reader - drug use (Weed) - first time smoking - kinda forced intoxication? (reader is curious but persuaded into it) - shotgunning - making out - inexperienced!reader - sex under the influence - protected sex - markings (hickeys, biting) - multiple rounds - missionary - doggy - cowgirl - getting caught in the act - after care

Word count: 13.438

Might write more chapters to this. Already have a few drafts in the works...

You are skipping over to the boys dormitory after class to work on a project with Itadori, greeting a few people on your way with a polite smile and short small talk about classes, professors and extracurriculars, denying some invitations to parties and movie dates.

When you arrive at the boys' dormitory, you write down your name in the guest book and make your way upstairs. You knock on the door, expecting Itadori to open it, but to your surprise, you are greeted with the face of his roommate.

Sukuna Ryomen. You only heard stories about him, sometimes seeing him lurking around campus with his shady friends. At first, one could think that Sukuna and Itadori are related, but despite their similar features and the hair color Itadori copied, because he thought it was kind of cool, the two of them share no similarities. Sukuna Ryomen just happened to be a lot scarier than the bubbly ball of excitement that was Itadori Yuji.

“He’ll be here in about 20 minutes or so. You can stay or whatever. Doesn’t make a difference to me. If you do stay though, don’t touch anything on the fuckin’ table.” Sukuna said, rubbing his knuckles against the tattoos on his face tiredly.

You timidly walk into the dorm room. "20 minutes isn't that long, I can wait." You smile politely at him, not wanting to give into the temptation of judging a book by its covers.

The room is barely lit, and it was smelling a lot like weed and sweat. You put your stuff down on Itadori's bed before sitting down on it carefully. You look around the room, not knowing what to do now and slightly swinging your feet. Maybe you should have just come back later, you think to yourself.

Sukuna glances at you for a moment as you sit down on Itadori’s bed. Despite you being polite, there was an obvious air of anxiety surrounding you. He just can’t tell if you are anxious about him… or if it was something else. But he did care to find out.

Sukuna’s eyes flicked down to your legs for just a brief moment before he let out a low, tired sigh and took a drag from the joint he held. “You’re one of the teacher’s pet types, ain’t ya?”

Your head whippes around to look at him, your eyes traveling up and down his body for a second before settling on his face. "We aren't allowed to smoke in the dorms. And I'm sure we aren't allowed to smoke THAT at all." You are referring to the weed he is currently consuming, coughing out a little when the smell hits your nose.

He smirks at the way you look at his body, finding it rather humorous. He thought your comment on smoking was cute, a little on the naive side, though. But hey, he preferred it if you were a little oblivious… it would make things more interesting.

“Yeah, well, we aren’t allowed to do a lot of things here, and yet… we still do them.” He takes another drag, letting the smoke waft through the room before exhaling in your direction. A smirk forming on his lips at the way you cough again.

You only scowl in confusion, trying to think about what kind of things he is referring to. Alcohol, drugs, staying out past curfew? Sex? The thought of him doing sexual stuff in this room makes you blush, your eyes darting from him to his bed for a split second. "No, we don't. Not all of us take joy in breaking rules, you know?”

He sees the way you look towards his bed for a brief, fleeting moment. And he chuckles darkly, taking another drag from his joint and slowly exhales before speaking. "Is that right, princess? I find that hard to believe. Breaking the rules is fun… you’re just too much of a goodie-two shoes to take advantage of it."

He looks you up and down again, taking in your features more closely. You are pretty… and shy, too. A delicious combo, he thought to himself.

You let out a scoff at his words. "And what do you want me to do, huh? Be more like you? Go out past curfew to some shitty bars and get drunk on a weekday? Smoke cigarettes and weed the whole day instead of going to classes? Have Sex in a rather… untidy dorm room and get myself an STD instead of studying?"

It is unusual for you to get so worked up over this. Normally, you are able to hold in your emotions better, but you had a stressful week, and he hit a nerve. Yes, you are a ‘goodie-two shoes’ but you didn't really have a choice on that matter. You had family expectations to uphold and are under a lot of pressure. As much as you wanted to, you can't just do whatever you want. It's careless and reckless, and nothing good would come out of it.

Sukuna is surprised by your little fit, but it is rather fun to watch. He lets out another chuckle as you list off everything you don’t do, listening intently and closely to what you say.

“Yeah… basically.” He says bluntly, taking another drag from his joint. “Life’s short, princess. Live it while you can. You’ll never get to experience this time again, y’know?” He smirks at you, taking a few steps forward to close in on the gap between you both.

He is standing right in front of you, towering over you while you sit on Itadori’s bed. His crotch leveling with your face, making your eyes dart down for a moment. Of course, he notices the way your eyes dart down, and he chuckles to himself, a look of wickedness growing on his face.

You look up at him with narrowed eyes, anger, and frustration clearly swirling behind your orbs. "Could you at least not be smoking weed while I am here? When Itadori comes back, we have a project to work on." You grit out through your teeth.

He took another drag from the joint before holding the smoke inside his mouth and taking another small step forward, closing the gap between you both even more now. “Aww… don’t be such a buzzkill, princess. What’s a little weed gonna do? I smoke it all the time, and I’m still fine.” He leaned down a little so he could be closer to your face.

Again, he is blowing his stupid smoke into your face, and you swear, you could already feel your head getting lighter. Was it the anger, or is it possible to get high this quick from just a few secondhand hits?

"Stop doing that!" You are clenching your jaw in frustration. "And clearly, you're not fine. Your brain definitely took damage already, seeing how you act like a defiant child. You are an arrogant ass AND you are trouble, Sukuna. Stop getting me involved with your stupid games. Get another girl for it." You huff out in annoyance after your little rant.

Sukuna chuckles at your comment, enjoying the way you are so easily annoyed and enraged. It was funny seeing you get so worked up over such trivial things, and the way your cute, angry face scrunches up when you are frustrated is like a cherry on top.

He continues to hold another blow of smoke in his mouth while you rant, not letting himself exhale quite yet. And when you finally stop, he slowly begins to speak again. The smoke leaves through his lips and wafts in the air between you. “Aww… and here I was thinking you were playing hard to get, princess.”

You are swatting the smoke away with your hand, biting back another sassy comment. "Just smoke your stuff on your side of the room." You say while pushing him away by his legs.

You crawl up on Itadori's bed and over to the window, opening it. Unknowingly, giving Sukuna a good view of your ass under the short skirt in the process. You try to breathe in some fresh air, your head buzzing like crazy.

Sukuna allows you to push him away, rolling his eyes and taking a step back, but a smirk grows on his face when you crawl over the bed. He doesn’t move from his spot, enjoying the view and watching you intently, taking in the sight of your ass.

He chuckles to himself and takes a couple more drags from the joint before tossing it into an ashtray. He smirks as he speaks. “Careful… don’t want anyone looking up and seeing you, princess. Imagine the talk around campus when you get caught with the troublesome bad boy.”

You just roll your eyes at him, and silence is falling over you two while you wait for Itadori to come back. But he never did. Not after 20 minutes and not after 30 minutes. In the meantime, Sukuna sits on his bed with an amused smile on his face.

He’s watching you, how you sit by the window, and look outside for Itadori every few minutes. He knows damn well that Itadori isn’t coming over. He had sent him a message as soon as he saw your cute little ass, to not come back until way later.

He smirks to himself and sits still for a few good minutes, just watching you as you begin to grow frustrated and worried. “Think he ain’t coming, princess.”

"Stop saying that!" You hiss, looking outside for Itadori again. "Maybe he forgot? Wouldn't be a first..." You mumble quietly to yourself before returning your gaze to Sukuna.

"Are you just going to lounge around your room for the rest of the day? It's Friday. Don't you have anything better to do?” You raise your eyebrows at him, clearly annoyed by his presence. It's his room, and you could just leave, but this project with Itadori was important, and you have to get this done today or otherwise it wouldn't fit into your schedule. Sukuna is usually out partying every fucking day but not today… something about it seems suspicious to you.

He smirks, watching as you grow more and more frustrated as time passes. It is so cute seeing you this way, completely ignorant of the fact that he is the reason Itadori isn’t here. This whole situation is his doing… and he is enjoying every minute of it.

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Laze around and probably get high. And, I don’t know… have a little fun.” He chuckles again, his smirk widening as he looks over your body, his mind obviously thinking something perverted.

You lean out of the window again before closing it. Sitting on your knees on Itadori's bed, you fumble with the hem of your skirt and think about what you should do now.

You scoff at Sukuna's comment. "Of course you would. Is weed the only thing you love in life? If you weren’t so damn irritating, I would honestly feel sad for you.”

Sukuna chuckles again, a little more darkly this time. He took in your pose, sitting on your knees on the bed like a good girl, your skirt riding up just slightly as you fiddle around with it… it is quite a sight to behold, one that he wouldn’t mind getting used to.

He sits up on his bed, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms behind his head as he watches you on the bed at the other side of the room, a smirk still on his face. “You say it like it’s a bad thing, princess. Weed is fun. You’d know that if you weren’t so… straight-edged.”

His words aren't really registering. Your mind is still focused on how you would be able to finish this project today if Itadori doesn't show up. "Well, I guess I would have to try it to know..." You say absentmindedly.

That catches his attention. His head perks up when you say that, raising an eyebrow in curiosity as he smirks a little. “Oh, yeah? You have to try it, huh? Well… I got plenty of stuff here I could let you try.” He sat up properly on the bed, looking at you intently as he spoke, waiting to gauge your reaction.

You shake your head out of your own thoughts and look at him in disbelief, your face scrunching in confusion. "What? What are you talking about? I would never take this stuff. It messes with your head." You give him another eye roll. "And even if I would ever try smoking, you would be the last person I wanna hit my first blunt with, Sukuna.”

He chuckles, enjoying the way you react to his suggestion. He watches the confusion and disbelief slowly morph onto your cute face, another smirk growing on his own as he speaks again. “Messes with your head?”

He laughs at that, amused by the fact that you didn’t know the first thing to do with marijuana. “Oh come on, princess… it’s not that bad. And I could take real good care of you… you’d never know the first thing about gettin’ high… Let me teach ya.”

"Take care of me, huh?" You raise an eyebrow at the innuendo behind his offer. Your eyes are darting from him to the ashtray, lingering on the remains of the joint he was smoking earlier. You look back at him, a scowl on your face. "You can't even take care of yourself, Sukuna.”

He shrugs his shoulders at your comment. He couldn’t argue with that. You had a point there. He probably couldn’t take good care of himself even if he tried. But you… he’d take real good care of you… At least he liked to think he would.

“Eh, maybe I can’t. But I think I’m good at taking care of… other people. I’m real good with my hands, y’know.” He smirks again, his gaze lingering over your body.

"I would sure hope so, seeing all you do with your fingers is rolling blunts the whole day." You let out an exaggerated sigh. "Stupid Itadori…" You mutter to yourself.

He chuckles at your comment, knowing damn well that you are right. He did spend most of his time rolling things with his fingers.

Then you suddenly stand up and make your way over to his bed, sitting down on it with a huff. Getting more comfortable next to him with your skirt riding up in the process. "So~, how does this work, huh?”

He has to admit, you are looking real cute, the way you hop up from the bed and sit down on his, your skirt riding up, so that a bit more of your thighs are showing. He’s getting more excited and enticed as you sit down beside him, your body so close to his. “Alright, princess, lemme teach ya a thing or two about smokin’. First off, you gotta come closer. You’re too far away for me to teach you properly.”

He just puts his arms around your waist and manhandles you to sit between his legs, your back flush against his chest. "I don't think this is a proper position..." You state quietly but don't make any attempt to actually stop him.

He chuckles as he grabs you and moves you to his liking, his laugh turning to a smirk as he leans forward a little and puts his chin on your shoulder, his lips right next to your ear as he whispers to you.

“Nah… I think it’s the perfect position for… teaching. It’s so I can show you everything real easily, princess.” He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you even closer to him, basically trapping you in his hold now.

You look over your shoulder at him. Your faces are so close that you can feel his breath against your lips. "And- and what do I do now?" Your voice is barely above a husky whisper, a little bit of curiosity mixed with anxiety and insecurity lying beneath.

He smirks as his face gets closer to your own, staring deeply into your eyes. You look so innocent, so… naive. You have no idea what you are about to get yourself into. “For now? Just relax. It’ll be a small hit at first. Nothin’ too bad, okay, princess?”

He lets go of your waist with one hand, reaching over to the table beside the bed. He grabs a new joint and a lighter, quickly flicking it on and lighting up the end of the blunt.

He takes a hit and lets the smoke hang in the air between you, your nose crinkles when you take in the smell. You reach out to take the joint out of his fingertips, concentrating on not letting it fall down with how nervous you are. Your eyes flicker to his for reassurance before lifting the joint to your lips.

He chuckles as he watches you try to take your first hit. You look nervous and anxious, your hand trembling a little as you take the joint delicately from his hands. He smirks as he gets a good glimpse at you, you're so cute it's almost unfair to do what he had planned.

When you inhale for the first time, you immediately start a coughing fit and look at him over your shoulder with a pout.

He laughs out loud when you start to cough up a storm and takes the joint out of your hands for another hit. “Oh princess… I know you’re not experienced with this but goddamn, you coughed like crazy. C’mon… try again.”

You are still coughing a little bit, letting out a huff of air and denying the joint he holds up for you to take again.. You try to stand up from your position between his legs, shuffling forward and away from him, your hands on his thighs to stabilize yourself as you scoot forward. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea, maybe I should just-"

He chuckles when you start to stand up from your spot, and the feeling of your hands on his thighs made him grow even more excited for what the night could hold. He quickly reaches out and grabs your hips, pulling you back down so that you were sitting between his legs again.

“Nah… I think you should give it another shot, princess. It ain’t gonna get better if you don’t try more than once.” He wraps his arms around your waist again, holding you in place.

You let out a small whine, clearly embarrassed that it didn't work out well the first time. "Sukuna, please~" You look back into his eyes, your pout only intensifying. "Maybe some people are just not born to do this and maybe I am one of those people..."

Your hands instinctively hold onto his forearm, which is securely placed around your waist, for comfort. You don't even notice you are pressing your back into his chest a little more.

He smirks as you whine and look at him, pouting. You look so good, in every sense of the word, it's almost too much to handle. Seeing how embarrassed you are about trying and failing at something was just… adorable. He loves the way you are so helpless… it gives him too much power over you.

When you begin to nuzzle into his chest, he chuckles at how innocent and adorable you are. He holds you just a bit tighter, your little body now trapped against his own. “Nonsense, princess… you’re not a quitter, are you? C’mon… just give it one more try.”

You try two more times, slowly getting better at it, but your lungs are still not used to the smoke. By the third try, you're coughing just a tiny little bit after your hit. Your mind is a little bit fuzzy and dead set on making this work eventually.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" You look at him with a bright smile full of excitement, clearly wanting him to praise you for getting better.

He chuckles again, enjoying the way you are so determined to keep going. You are doing better each time, and after some time, you are almost able to hold it in without coughing.

He takes the joint out of your hand and takes a hit of it himself before leaning down and blowing the smoke to your lips, watching your reaction as your mind slowly begins to get a little more hazy. “See? You’re a natural, princess… you’re gonna be smokin’ like a pro in no time.”

You had a pleased smile on your face, your eyes crinkling a little, and a blush involuntarily creeps up your cheeks. You already feel more relaxed and lean yourself back against Sukuna. It feels good to just lay in his arms, somehow safe and secure.

"But still not perfect." You huff out. You are a perfectionist and would not give up until you have this down perfectly. "Let me try another!" You exclaim enthusiastically, turning around a little over your shoulder to look at him. His crimson red eyes are beautiful. You never noticed how much they stand out to his usual appearance and get lost in them for a moment before your gaze flickers down to his lips briefly.

He smiles, watching as you begin to relax. He loves the feeling of your body against his own, the way you were so comfortable and trusting with him. He could get used to this very easily.

He raises an eyebrow when you ask to try again, a smirk growing on his face when you turn around and look at him. He watches your eyes flicker down to his lips and back up, and he couldn’t help but bite back a chuckle. It seems like the weed was affecting you…

"How about we try something to help you hold it in, huh?”

"Yes, I wanna!" He couldn't even finish his explanation on what you're going to do when you interrupt him eagerly.

He is shuffling you around like you weighed nothing at all until you are sitting next to him, pressed into his side and your legs now thrown over his lap, your arms automatically go to wrap around his bizeps. You are looking at his every move intensely and waiting for him to tell you what to do next. Letting your eyes roam his figure in the process.

His smirk grows into a smile when your excitement gets the better of you. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself when you instantly jumped into the position he wanted. You looked so cute and eager, like a puppy ready for a treat. He looked at you intently before speaking, his voice low and deep as he spoke to you. “Now, all you gotta do is open your mouth, and I’ll help you take that hit nice and smoothly…”

You nod your head ‘yes’ frantically, ready for whatever comes next. Or at least you thought so...

He watches as you nod your head, the look of excitement on your face filling him with a sense of pride. You look so willing to do whatever he told you to do, and he loves that about you. He loves how you listen to him like a good girl, how you want to please him. It is so cute and adorable, and it only serves to rile him up more.

His free hand comes up and holds your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to make you look at him. His thumb runs over your bottom lip, and you comply immediately, parting your lips for him.

Sukuna takes a hit from the joint, leaning in closer and connects your lips in a slow kiss, shotgunning the smoke into your mouth and making you take it. He immediately slips his tongue between your lips, blowing the smoke towards your mouth and making sure to keep the kiss going. No coughing, no interrupting the kiss. Instead, your hand finds the back of his head, returning the kiss more eagerly.

He couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, feeling you return it with just as much enthusiasm, your hand going to the back of his head to pull him closer. He loves how eager you are. It really was too cute.

The kiss keeps going, the smoke slowly going up between you two when you exhale into his mouth. You shuffle into a new position, straddling his lap and sitting on top of him, your lips never parting.

He could feel himself getting more and more worked up the longer the kiss went on, his hands going to your hips and gripping them as you straddle his lap, sitting on top of him now. He couldn’t believe how eager you are, even making the next step on your own accord. You look so cute and adorable, all hazy and happy.

When he finally breaks the kiss and leans his forehead against yours, you are breathing heavily. Your eyes glazed over with the effects of the drug and a lazy smile spreading across your face. "Didn't cough once. I like this method." You whisper against his lips.

He chuckles and smiles against your lips when you tell him you didn’t cough once, looking into your eyes and seeing how clouded they are. You are really beginning to feel the effects now. "No, you didn’t cough at all… you did perfectly.”

You chuckle at his praise, leaning back with one arm still around his neck and the other taking the joint from him. Bringing it to your lips, taking a deep hit, and blowing the smoke straight into his face. Your eyes holding his gaze the whole time. "So… What's the next step?”

He just watches as you lean back, taking the joint from him and lifting it to your lips, taking another hit, and then blowing the smoke directly into his face. It caught him a little off guard, not gonna lie, and he couldn’t deny that it… really turned him on. Especially with the way you looked at him with that cute, hazy expression on your face.

He smirks at your question, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter and pulling you closer to him. "Next? Well... I think you deserve a little reward, don't you? All of this just made me want one thing, and I know you’re gonna enjoy it too.”

You smile at him, taking another hit and connecting your lips in another kiss again, blowing the smoke directly into his mouth. He returns the kiss hungrily, making you moan into the kiss.

The feeling of your lips against his once more, the smoke entering his system as you push it deep into his mouth, causes him to let out a low growl. He happily returns the kiss, his tongue immediately slipping into your mouth, taking in all the smoke you blew into his mouth as he deepens the kiss. He is craving you, wanting to feel more of you, and he wasn’t about to let this little moment go to waste.

He smirks into the kiss as he takes the joint from you, taking one final hit before putting it out in the ashtray on the nearby nightstand. In one swift movement, he flips you over onto your back, now hovering over you on the bed and staring down at you with a hungry and lustful look in his eyes. "Such a good girl, you deserve a nice, big reward, don't you?”

The one hand that isn't still holding onto the back of his neck comes up to trace along the tattoos of his jawline. Your eyes take in his appearance on top of you, the way his eyes are just a shade darker with lust, his jaw clenched because he has to hold himself back, the way his tattoos are standing out against his skin. He looks mesmerizing, and you wonder how you never noticed how handsome he really is before.

He feels the way your hand traces over the tattoos on his jaw, feeling your eyes roam over his face. He knows you could feel the way he was holding back, how much he wants you, and how badly he was trying to hold himself back from just… pouncing on you right then and there. He can see the way your eyes look at him, and it only made him even more eager to break you completely. He couldn’t help but smirk down at you. "You like what you see, princess?”

You let out a hum, confirming his statement without realizing it, and you have to actively pry your eyes from his features to look back into his eyes again. Your pupils are blown wide from the high, and your head feels cloudy. It was a strange feeling but somehow… For once… everything feels perfect.

"Sukuna?" Your voice comes out in a shaky whisper. "You will take care of me, right? Really good care, I mean? I'm not really experienced in these kinds of things, so…”

He can't help but smirk at your response, the way you don’t even realize that you are so openly admiring his appearance. You are so high already, so gone, that you aren’t even fully aware of what you are saying. He couldn’t get enough of seeing you in this state, so vulnerable and completely at his mercy. It makes him want to do all kinds of things to you… all kinds of things no one has ever done to you before.

The way you ask if he would take care of you, he loves how submissive you are right now. "Of course, princess. I’ll take good care of you, I’ll make sure you’re all nice and safe with me. I won’t be too rough, okay?”

You shake your head ‘no’, your eyebrows furrowing in dislike at the thought of him holding back for you. You don't want that. "No. Don't hold back, please. I don't want you to hold back. You- you can be rough with me. Can do to me whatever you want, Sukuna."

Your mind is clouded, and so is your judgment. You aren't a virgin anymore. You just never went past that first time in high school, and right now, you want to experience more. More with him and act like a normal reckless college girl for once. At least for tonight, you want to let yourself go, not having to think too much about life and its problems and give the power over to someone else. You already got so far. You couldn't back down now. You didn't want to back down now.

The way you shake your head ‘no’, your eyebrows furrowing in disapproval at the idea of him holding back for you, it makes him grin like the cocky bastard he is. He could tell that you are high and probably aren’t thinking straight, but he doesn’t care. He loves that you are begging him to lose control, to give in to his primal side, to take what he wants in a completely feral and rough way. You have no idea what you are getting yourself into…but he was happy to show you.

The idea of you letting him do whatever he wants with you is way too enticing, and he will definitely be taking advantage of it. He is going to make you his. "You sure, princess? You wanna be my little doll tonight?”

"Yes." It is a simple answer that doesn't need much explanation. "Just- just tell me what to do, please." Your voice a hushed whisper.

He smirks as you answer, a single yes being all he needs to know you want this. He knows that your mind is clouded and that you aren’t making the best decisions, that you are under the influence of the drugs, but he couldn’t care less. You are willingly giving yourself to him, asking him to take control, and he is going to make sure you feel it. "Take off your clothes for me, nice and slow. Okay, princess?”

He is removing himself from you, taking his place on the bed with his back against the wall. You slowly lift yourself up, standing in front of the bed and looking around the room for a second. On shaky legs, you walk to the small music box on his desk, putting on some random sultry music and turning around to him with a small smile. You take off your clothes, give him a show in the process, and dance to the music. You're giving him something you could compare to a sloppy first time strip tease, a few cute little giggles and chuckles leaving your lips as you stumble around and lose yourself in the moment, the drugs helping you to relax and take away the pressure of your life.

Sukuna smirks as you stand up from the bed and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you walk across the room, the way your legs tremble from being so high and the little smile on your face. He sits back, resting against the wall with his legs sprawled out in front of him as he watches you, seeing you completely stripping down in front of him. He loves the way you move to the music, completely lost in your own little world as you give him a private show.

He watches you move, laughing and giggling, and he is already getting more and more worked up. When you are completely naked, you walk over to him. He is offering you his hand to take, and you do without questioning while crawling back into his lap again.

When he feels your hand slide into his own, the smirk on his face is growing, and his hands immediately go to your hip, resting on your waist and holding you against him.

Once you are seated, you look into his eyes for a second before burying your head in the crook of his neck, giving him small little kisses along the skin. "Was that nice and slow enough for you? I did a good job, didn't I?" You murmur against his neck, looking for approval.

Your soft kisses along his skin are making him let out a deep breath. "Yeah, you did a good job, princess. Such an obedient little thing, you look so perfect like this, don’t you? Sitting pretty in my lap, all naked and ready for me."

If you had been in the right state of mind, you probably would have been embarrassed. Begging for approval so desperately, and it's kinda sad if you think about why you behave like this. Why you search for approval from the people around you so much and strive for perfection in everything you do. But right now, under the influence of the drug, you don't care about anything but him and his hands on your skin spreading a fire in their wake.

He could tell that you aren’t quite yourself, the good little college sunshine, finding herself all lewd and naked in the lap of someone like him. You definitely wouldn't be in this state if sober. You are so needy and submissive right now, it is nice to see how much you crave him, how much you need his validation but he doesn’t mention it, he knows you are too far gone to even register it anyways. You only care about him right now, and he loves the way his touch feels on your body. It almost makes him feel bad for taking advantage of your fucked up psychological issues, that probably led you into his arms in the first place. Almost…

"Pretty unfair, it seems, don't you think so?" You say, leaning back in his lap and tugging at his shirt, wanting it gone already. Your eyes are roaming over his body, wondering how many tattoos are hiding under that shirt of his.

He couldn’t help but chuckle as you lean back and start messing with his shirt, tugging at it and making it clear you want it gone. Your eyes are still cloudy from the drug, and he could see you looking at his body. He smirks at your comment, tilting his head to look at you with a mischievous grin on his face. "Unfair, hm? What do you mean? Tell me, princess, what’s unfair?”

Nonetheless, he removes his shirt, and your breath is catching in your throat when you finally lay eyes on his bare torso. There are more tattoos than you anticipated, and judging by the lines of ink that are hiding beneath the fabric of his pants, there are even more you haven't seen yet.

It got you excited, the thought of touching him. His touch feels like heaven on your skin. Every sense of yours heightened because of the drug, and you wonder if he would feel like you when your fingers finally make contact with his bare skin.

He can feel your breath hitch as his shirt comes off, your eyes taking in the sight of his bare torso and the way all the tattoos he has on his arms and face continue down and cover a good portion of his chest and stomach. Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, and you obviously want to touch him, to feel him, and he looks at you with a knowing smirk on his face. "Go on, princess, you can touch them, you know?”

Your hand reaches out to touch him but is stopping midair. "Would it feel good for you? My touch, I mean. Would it feel as good as yours on me?" You wonder.

"Your touch feels so different on my skin, like…like electricity running through every vein. It's the drug, I know, but- Would it feel the same for you? Even though you are used to this feeling? I mean, can you even get used to this? Everything is so..." Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and you throw it back with a moan in the middle of your drug-induced ramble when his hands start rubbing up and down your waist. The hand that was still in between your two bodies is now placed flat against his sternum.

He watches as your hand pauses in the air, just inches away from his body, clearly wanting to feel him. He listens to you ramble about how his touch feels on your skin. He loves how you describe it as electricity, running through every vein. He can't help but touch you, feel up the curves of your perfect body. The way your head tips back and the sound of that beautiful moan gets him going like nothing else since quite some time. You are clearly having a great time under the influence.

"Yeah, princess, I’m used to this feeling. But I can still appreciate how good it feels..." He replies in a low voice. His hands continue to slowly roam up and down your body.

After that, your hands instinctively reach out to lay themselves flat against his chest before roaming from his pecs to his shoulders and down to grasp at his bizeps, holding on for dear life. Your hips start to grind down against him, letting out a hiss at the way the fabric of his pants feels against your bare core.

He loves the way you can’t seem to keep your hands off of his body, feeling your hands move across his bare chest and down to his biceps, gripping onto them and holding on like you are scared to let go. He feels the way your hips start to grind against him, your body desperate for friction, and he can’t help but let out a deep, low growl in answer to your needy whine.

"So beautiful~. Like your tattoos so much, S'kuna." You whimper out, taking in all of his flexing muscles and tattoos again. Your eyes are half lidded and glazed over with tears from the overwhelmingly heightened feeling of everything that's happening.

He chuckles at your comment, loving how you are clearly overwhelmed by everything going on, your eyes taking in every inch of him. You are out of it, and he enjoys every second of it. "Yeah, princess?”

"What next? Need more, please~. What am I supposed to do next?" Your hands fly around his neck again, playing with the strands of his hair, and you pull him a bit closer, leaning your forehead against his, taking a deep breath and inhaling his scent.

He can tell you are getting impatient, the way you keep grinding your hips against him and cling onto him, clearly wanting more, asking for more. He loves seeing you like this, so dependent, so needy, unable to think for yourself and needing him to tell you what to do next.

He brings his hands to your hips, gently grasping them tightly and keeping you from grinding against him any further as he leans his forehead against yours. He chuckles at your needy tone and places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose before standing up with you in his arms.

You cling to him like a koala when he suddenly starts standing up and walks the two of you over to his desk, sitting you down on top of it. Opening the drawer and getting out a condom, holding it between his teeth while he opens his pants and leaves them discarded on the floor together with his underwear.

He could see the look in your eyes, the way they dart down to take in the sight of him, and he couldn’t help but feel smug when he saw your reaction. You gulp seeing him bare for the first time, your eyes darting down before he lifts up your chin with two of his fingers, forcing you to look at him and not anything else.

You look into his eyes before they quickly dart to the condom, still stuck between his teeth and up to his eyes again. You honestly don't know where you found the confidence. Maybe it was the drug, but who cares... One of your hands was slowly traveling down from his chest to his abdomen before going even lower and wrapping your small hand around the base of his cock, trying your best to please him with your hands. Your eyes are on his the whole time and you bite your lips when he lets out a groan.

He lets out a low growl as your hand creeps lower and lower, and his gaze darkens as he watches you bite down on your lip while he lets out another deep groan. "Princess, what are you-”

Your other hand snatches the condom from his mouth, ripping it open with your teeth. "Can we please move this further faster? Want to feel you all over me. Just everywhere, please."

You try to convince him with your desperate pleas and a pout on your face, wanting to feel that amazing electric tingle again when he touches your skin. You can only imagine how amazing he will feel inside of you. All over you, clouding every nerve ending in your body with his presence.

He is completely caught off guard when you snatch the condom from his mouth, ripping it open with your teeth. He is about to say something, but your desperate pleas stop him. The pout on your face and the way you plead for him to move things forward makes his mind cloud over with lust and desire for you.

"Sukuna… I'm ready. I just want to feel you, please~."

It's all he needs to hear, chuckling at your eagerness before gripping at your hips, pulling you forward to the edge of the table. His hands are going to part your legs, almost aggressively pushing them apart, before rubbing the tip of his member through your folds a few times. He takes the condom from you, his eyes not leaving the spot between your thighs.

"Yeah, princess, we can move on. You're still sure I don't need to be gentle?" When all he gets is a strangled whine of his name, he takes it as a yes and quickly puts on the condom with practiced ease before lining himself up and with a last cocky smirk, he’s pushing forward while looking at your face, wanting to gauge your every reaction.

The sensation takes your breath away, the mix of pleasure and pain makes you grip tightly at his bizeps again, and your nails dig into his skin, deep. Your vision goes black for a second from the sheer size your body desperately tries to accommodate. Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, a loud lewd moan of his name leaving your lips, and your head tips forward against his chest. For a moment, you think you're able to see the gates of heaven...or was it hell? You don't know, and you definitely don't care as long as the feeling will stay.

He is taken aback by the sharp sting on his skin when you cling onto his biceps, your nails digging into his skin so deep he is sure they'll leave marks. He can feel your breath hit his chest as you lean onto him, the sound of his name from your lips like music to his ears.

He's lifting your head from his chest with a tight grip on your jaw, looking into your dilated pupils with a smug smirk. He's enjoying how overwhelmed you are. You are beautiful and he can't believe he's actually fucking the good little rich girl everyone around campus adores like a common whore on his desk. He's taking in the sight of you before he bends himself over you, resting his other hand down onto the table to support himself as he begins to move against you, his chest pressed against yours.

He's setting a relentless pace from the start, not caring to give you a minute to breathe or considering your inexperience. You feel so damn fucking tight around him, he thinks he's loosing his mind. You look way too good like this and he shouldn't enjoy this as much as he is. You're just another name on his long list of different girls, a pretty little girl for a quick fuck. But he has to admit, you're a good one.

"Fuck! Feels so good S'kuna" You are not a person to use swear words but in the past minutes of him pounding into your tight walls countless swears, pleas, moans and whines left your lips. You just can't hold back, your whole body feels like it is on fire, every touch of his setting you ablaze. Your hands cling to him desperately, your lips connecting in heated kisses again and again until one of you runs out of breath and you could feel your impending orgasm on the tip of your tongue.

"So good, princess." He mutters against your lips, returning your kisses, each one more frenzied than the last, the two of you only breaking apart when you run out of breath before he's diving back in, not getting enough of you. He can feel your body trembling against his, your desperate hands clinging to him as if you are afraid he would disappear.

He feels your orgasm building up, and he knows you are close, the way your body trembles, and your muscles tighten around him. You're holding him in a vice like grip, almost making it hard for him to move in and out. You really want him to lose his damn mind, don't you? He grips your hips, increasing his pace, pushing both of you closer and closer to the edge.

You fall apart, and he is right behind you, riding out the waves of pleasure for the both of you with shallow thrusts. Your lips are still connected in needy kisses before leaning his forehead against yours.

He watches as your body trembles and shakes, coming undone completely. He feels your lips on his, both of you too desperate to let each other go just yet, not needing to break apart to catch your breath. He drinks everything in, every little reaction of yours. The way your nose scrunches up and your eyebrows furrow together, how your hazy eyes seem to roll back into your head behind your shut lids, your breaths stuttering in moans that he immediately swallows up in another ray of kisses, tasting you like a starved man.

But he still didn't leave you any time to catch your breath. Throwing away the condom in the trash can under his desk before lifting you off the table. He's holding you stable with one hand around your waist and quickly gets rid of all things lying on the table before bending you over it, his hand firmly pressed against your spine to keep you down. Grabbing a new condom and going right back to where you two left off.

Sukuna inserts himself in one swift motion. The stretch is still a pleasurable pain, but with how your wetness is currently dripping down your legs and after your first orgasm, he has it now way easier to bully his length inside you without much restraint.

Everything is so overwhelming. You forget to actually breathe. Your hands desperately cling to the edge of the table for stability, your legs shaking terribly. Your hips are probably bruised already from the force with which they are being pushed against the edge of the table again and again. The only thing keeping you somewhat grounded is his hand on your back.

He could see you clinging to the edge of the table, your legs shaking and trembling in an attempt to keep yourself stable. He knew your hips will most likely show those beautiful bruises in the morning from the force he was using to push your body against the edge and his strong grip during everything that had already happened and will happen tonight. He could tell you are getting overwhelmed, struggling to even remember how to breathe, and he has no plans of making it any easier for you any time soon. Drugs or not, Sukuna was always at the top of his game.

"Breathe, princess. Don't forget to breathe." He said in a low voice, his tone slightly teasing as he continued his onslaught on your poor pussy.

"I try! I really do! I'm trying but-" You cut off your own words with a hiccup, trying to get at least some air into your lungs but the way his hips move and he repeatedly hits that one perfect spot inside your gummy walls has you reeling. He's everywhere. The only things on your mind are his hands on your body and the way he moves against you.

You can feel yourself tightening up again, the pleasure building up incredibly fast and the knot in your stomach tightening painfully and needing release. One of his hands grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you flush against his chest.

He chuckles at how easy you are, nipping at your ear before whispering in a rough voice. "Cmon, princess. I know you can do it, just a little bit more, don't pass out on me yet."

One of your hands comes up to grab at the wrist of the hand he had currently entangled in your hair. You lean your head back onto his shoulder, moans and strangled breaths, leaving your open mouth constantly, and there is a little bit of drool at the corner of your mouth.

He smirks as one of your hands comes up to grab at his wrist, your head falling back against him as you let out a steady stream of moans and breaths, which occasionally became strangled and hiccupped. He could see the little bit of drool at the corner of your mouth as you try to keep yourself from passing out and he presses a small kiss against the corner of your lips, letting his tongue dart out to lick the drool from your pretty lips before he suddenly shoves two of his fingers inside your mouth.

"Bite me, and I'll bite you back, princess." He warns in a low voice, his tone rough and just as breathless as your own.

His long and slender fingers in your mouth are making you gag, and this is all you need to be pushed over the edge. Before his sentence even registers in your lust and weed clouded brain you bite down onto his fingers, the taste of blood in your mouth makes you hum out as you come down from your high but Sukuna is not stopping and immediately you can feel yourself getting close to finishing again.

He groans as you bite down onto his fingers, the taste of blood seeping into your mouth, making you hum out in pleasure, clearly enjoying yourself and sending a wave of pleasure through him in return. Feeling the way your body trembles and convulses as you come down from your high, but he had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

Sukuna kept grinding in and out of you, hitting every spot perfectly. Your pussy a perfect fit for his long and girthy cock and he doesn't want to stop. He can't, not before he feels you come undone at least a dozen times more and so he pushes you into overstimulation, taking you over the edge again and again.

Your head falls back against the table, his hand still in your hair and pressing your cheek down against it and you think you might actually die from the way he draws out one orgasm after the other without stopping, without giving you time to breathe and recover. His other hand makes its way to your sensitive bundle of nerves, and just the simple action of pressing his thumb against it makes you convulse and cry out in another wave of pleasure. Finally, he comes after holding himself off for an almost painful amount of time, drawn over the edge with you, and a loud and guttural groan leaves his mouth right into your ear.

He gently removes his fingers from your mouth and wraps his arms around you right under your chest, pulling you close to him and whispering in your ear. "You did good, princess.”

Both your breathing is ragged, the two of you collapsing onto the desk in exhaustion and contentment, and his weight on top of you is helping you through the feeling of emptiness after he pulls out. He is pressing light kisses along your shoulder blades until you calm down. "Come on, princess, you need a hit. Nothing's better than a little something after a good fuck, huh?"

He removes himself from you completely, letting go of you and stepping back, making you collapse onto the floor with a thud as your weak and trembling legs are giving out under you while you still try to breathe.

He chuckles slightly at your current state, watching you struggle to breathe sitting on the floor. "You alright, princess?" He asks, grabbing a joint and a lighter.

He stands in front of you and looks down, his head tilted slightly and a cocky grin on his face. He lights up the joint and inhales before squatting next to you. He blows the smoke straight into your face and holds the joint into your direction, a silent invitation to take it. You take the joint with trembling hands and get a deep hit. The sensation of smoke filling your lungs is making you close your eyes for a second. Then he lifts you up, walks to the bed, and sits you down onto his lap again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and holding you close.

You take another hit, letting the smoke out slowly before taking the two fingers he had stuffed in your mouth earlier between your lips, sucking them in and swirling around them with your tongue. Tasting his blood for a second time is making you hum out again. "I'm sorry about that." You say, still kitten-licking his fingers.

He chuckles as he watches you take another hit, the smoke slowly leaving your lips and your body completely relaxed. He raises his eyebrows as you start sucking on his fingers, your tongue lapping at them and swirling around them, tasting the blood again. He lets out a low sigh when you speak, your gentle apology muffled as you continue licking his fingers. "It's alright, princess. A little bit of pain can be good sometimes.”

"You said you'd bite back." You giggle. "I'd like you to, you know? To bite back, I mean… Would be nice to take a mark with me. Something to remind me of today." Your voice gets quieter, your fingers playing around with his.

He chuckles when you bring up the fact that he said he would bite back. "Are you sure? I bite pretty hard, princess. I don't usually hold back." He says in a low, rough tone. He then notices how your voice gets quieter, your fingers playing around with his, and he could sense the vulnerability in your voice. "Where do you want me to mark you, princess? Somewhere people can see it? Somewhere only I can see it?”

Your head perks up at his sentences. "Can we do both?" You ask curiously, your eyes wide and gleaming with excitement. "Would be nice to show it off to others, I definitely want to do that, but I also want to have something for only the two of us. Something nobody knows. A secret…”

He smirks at your eager question, amused by your excitement. "Of course we can do both, princess. I like the idea of you showing off to others, and I like the idea of having something just for us even more."

He lifts your chin up, tilting your head to the side to expose your neck. He runs his strong, rough hand along your soft, delicate skin, his gaze fixated on you. "The question is, where should we put these bite marks? Any specific places you have in mind, princess?”

"How about we choose one each? Would that be okay for you? I think I already know where I want to have the one I can show off to others..." You look into his eyes, just watching him as he smokes the joint.

He nods at your suggestion, finding the idea of choosing one each to be appealing. "That works for me, princess. I like the sound of that. Why don't you go first and tell me where you want your 'showing off' bite mark to be."

He takes another hit from the joint, his gaze still fixated on you as he exhales the smoke and you take his hand in yours and guide it slowly from the nape of your neck to the expanse of your collarbone. "It's visible enough to peek out under the uniform but not enough to get me in trouble with the school board." You giggle at the thought. "Although I suspect that thanks to you, I will get into trouble more often in the future, huh?”

He watches as you guide his hand to your collarbone, the placement being both visible and discreet enough. He chuckles at your question, a sly smirk appearing on his face. "Oh, princess, you can count on it. I have a feeling we're going to cause plenty of trouble together in the future." He says, his tone suggestive and playful.

You shuffle a little closer in his lap. Your core deliciously rubbing against his twitching cock in the process, making you exhale a breath. You take the joint from his hands taking a last hit before stubbing it out in the ashtray. Looking into his eyes again, your hands are sneaking around his neck, playing with his pinkish hair as you lean in and expose your neck for him.

He watches as you shuffle closer to him. The way your lower bodies rub against each other is making him respond with a new wave of desire, and a low growl escapes his lips. His gaze darkens as you expose your neck to him, his lips curling into a wicked grin as he leans in, his breath hot against your skin.

He starts off slowly, the kisses on your skin light and teasing, his lips softly ghosting over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. When his teeth finally sink into your skin, you can't hold back the breathy moan from escaping your mouth. Your hands are tightening in the strands of his hair and pushing him closer, not wanting him to stop until he draws blood, just like you did, until everyone would know what you two did.

The moment his teeth sink into your skin, feeling you shiver and moan, he knows there was no turning back now. "Don't stop. Feels so good..."

You must be a masochist because the feeling of his teeth on your neck, feeling the blood trickling out of the wound just to get licked up by his tongue, made you incredibly aroused. Your hips are starting to slowly grind against him, making his hands on your hips tighten their hold, and Sukuna continues to kiss and suck and bite bruises into your beautiful smooth skin.

He could feel your body responding to his, grinding against him as he lapped at the blood on your neck. "Good girl..." He whispers, his voice low and sultry.

"Need you, Sukuna. Need you again..." Your hips are still grinding into his, and you can tell that you are not the only one getting aroused again. "Can I- Can I take control this time, please?" You had the desperate desire to feel him again, wanting to make him feel good. Make the two of you feel good, hoping that despite his obvious dominant demeanor, he would allow you to stay on top this time.

When you ask to take control this time, he can see the desperate need in your eyes, and he was powerless to deny you. "Of course you can, princess. You can have as much control as you want. Take the lead and show me what you got, hm?"

He leans back, his hands on your hips loosening their grip, giving you the reins. He looks at you expectantly, his expression somewhere between eager and curious, and you don't need to be told twice when he reaches out for a condom from the nightstand and hands it over to you.

“How many of those do you have conveniently laying around, huh?" You ask, slightly amused as you take a hold of Sukuna's cock, slowly dragging it along your wetness before rolling on the condom and keeping eye contact the whole time.

He chuckles when you take the condom from him, a smirk on his face. "Aww, are you jealous?" He teases, his voice lighthearted. "Don't worry, princess, let's just say I have enough to keep us busy for a long, long time." He chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You're sinking down slowly, teasing the both of you with your slow movement and when you finally sit down on top of him, you close your eyes in bliss, feeling him even deeper inside your gut than in the other positions before.

He couldn't help but let out a low, content hiss as you slid down on him, your movements slow and deliberate. His eyes dark with desire and his hands gripping your hips tightly as he watches you take him fully, the feeling of your body clenching around him sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body.

You start rocking your hips slowly, gauging his every expression and finding out what would feel good for not only you but him too before falling into a steady rhythm shortly after. The two of you are lost in pleasure, and soon enough, you are consumed by one another once again. Sharing hungry kisses and hands all over each other. "So good, S'kuna. So deep...so big…”

He watches you intently, his expression one of pure lust as you rock your hips against him. He relishes every little movement you make, every sound that escapes your lips, every expression that flashes across your face. Before long, he is lost in a world of ecstasy, his hands roaming over your body, desperate to touch every inch of you, desperate to pull you closer to him. As you whisper those sweet words in his ear, he can't help but respond, his voice low and strained. "You feel so good, princess... So tight... So perfect.”

You are so lost into your own little world that neither of you notice the keys rattling in the lock. The door opens to a rather tipsy Itadori Yuji."Yo, Sukuna, you wouldn't believe what Choso told me, we went out and-." Itadori is standing in the doorway, shocked and watching the two of us shamelessly. Itadori's words die in his throat as he takes in the scene before him. You, riding Sukuna, the two of you completely consumed by each other and the high.

Sukuna looks at him with a cocky grin on his face, just raising an eyebrow. "Can't you knock, brat?”

You look over as well and hold eye contact for a moment while your hips are not stopping their movement. You couldn't stop, even if you wanted to, with the way Sukuna's hands kept grabbing at your hips and helping you move. You bring your gaze back onto Sukuna and his body before demanding his attention back with a whine.

Sukuna doesn't even bother to cover you up before your desperate whine brings his focus back to you, and he couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head at his younger roommate. Without taking his eyes off of you, he calls out to him. “Close the door, idiot."

As soon as Itadori closes the door behind him, Sukuna's hands on your hips stop your movement. The action makes you let out a frustrated whine. He just stares at you for a moment, his gaze flickering to the mark on your shoulder before a wicked grin spreads across your face.

He flips you over, hovering above you and giving one quick kiss to your lips before moving down the bed, putting your thighs over his shoulders with his face inches away from your private parts. "I'm not done with you yet, princess. Remember when I said I bite hard? Well, let me show you where I plan to leave our little secret.”

Without further warning, he sinks his teeth into your upper inner thigh. The pleasurable pain causes your back to arch from the bed. Instinctively you try to wriggle out of his hold but it was no use, he had you locked in place with his hands around your thighs, one splayed out over your stomach and the other gripping your hips bruisingly. Your hands grip at the strands of his hair and a loud cry leaves your mouth when you come undone from Sukuna leaving his imprint on you, surprising the both of you with just how sensitive you actually are right now.

He still holds you down firmly, not letting you get away as his teeth sink deep into your thigh, leaving behind a bite that will turn into a beautiful bruising mark. Feeling your body writhing in pleasure beneath him, he can't help but chuckle against your skin. "Did you just come from that, princess?”

Sukuna looks up at you, a satisfied grin on his face. The mark he had left on your thigh is already starting to bruise. He runs his tongue lightly over the mark, savoring the taste of your skin and making you moan out again. Only when he is satisfied, he sits back, admiring his handiwork. Your breathing is heavy and ragged, your body quivering with aftershocks, and he leans over you, his lips hovering just above yours, a self-satisfied smile on your face.

"We need to do stuff like this more often." You say with a breathless chuckle. Putting your thighs around his hips, pulling him down a bit with pleading eyes, begging for him to make you feel good again.

Sukuna just sits on his heels and takes in the view of the mark he left on your thigh. It was beautiful, deep and dark, a sure sign that you are his. Your body is trembling, and he smiles down at your words, his chest puffing up with pride. He lets out a low growl of approval, running his hands up your body again before leaning down and connecting you in a deep kiss. "Yeah, we definitely should.”

He immediately sinks back into you, rocking his hips against yours at a harsh brutal pace. His hands are everywhere, and your tongues are tangled with each other, not stopping, not even for breathing. You are both desperate, desperate to feel good, desperate to make the other one feel good, desperate to have more even though it feels like it will never be enough.

Your bodies move together in a frenzied rhythm, his hips slapping hard into the back of your thighs and your mouths and hands never staying still. Both of you are lost in a world solely made for the two of you. The air is heavy with the sounds of labored breaths, the whispers of voices, the sounds of bodies as they come together over and over. His touches are hungry and demanding, his words possessive and primal.

When he feels your body starting to tense and shiver, hinting at your impending release, he lifts your hips up, pressing your thighs close to your chest, the new angle causing you to cry out in pleasure.

It didn't take long for you to fall over the edge, and he is following right behind, collapsing on top of you. The two of you are breathing heavily, and you look at him with a lazy smile, your eyes still dilated from lust and the drug. "I don't think I will ever get enough of this, honestly.”

Sukuna lays on top of you for a moment, your bodies still connected, his head resting on your shoulder and his chest rising and falling, his heart pounding against his ribcage. When he looks up at you, the smile on your face is languid, your eyes still dilated with pleasure. "Me neither, princess. I don't think I'll get enough of you either. You're too damn addictive.”

"More addictive than the substances you throw all day?" You giggle out before giving him a sly, playful look.

A smile appears on Sukuna's face at the mention of his drug use, his arms wrapping around you to pull you closer, not wanting to be apart from you just yet. "Oh, no question about it. You're way more addictive than any substance I've tried so far. You're like this drug I just can't get enough of. Always wanting more, always wanting to have you close to me. I might be in trouble, princess."

A small smile is still on your face when your hands card through his hair and your eyes take in his appearance once again. He is so fucking beautiful. His pink hair is all sweaty and messy, his crimson red eyes dark and dilated from lust, his lips kiss bitten and just as swollen as your own and the black ink stands in contrast to his fair skin.

As you rake your fingers through his hair, he closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation before opening them again and meeting your gaze. There's a look in his eyes that's both intense and soft, a combination that he never showed before, to nobody and something that only you seem to bring out in him.

You just lay in each other's arms in silence for a few minutes. Calming not only your bodies down but also your minds and relishing in the presence of the other as you're replaying the memories of the day.

"I'm kinda hungry... like really, really hungry..." You tell him in a quiet whisper, not wanting to interrupt the peaceful silence more than necessary while still combing through his hair while he leaves small kisses against your shoulder and collarbone.

When your breaths return to a normal pace and your minds slowly come back to reality, you trace lazy patterns on his skin. Sukuna can't believe he actually feels content and somewhat satisfied and…happy? There is no way he would get attached to you, to this. Whatever this is.

As you whisper about being hungry, he can't help but chuckle, his eyes looking down at you. "Of course you're hungry, princess. It's normal to get a little hungry after vigorous activity. What do you wanna eat?”

He sits up on the bed, and you let out a whine at the loss of contact, immediately regretting saying something. He leans over you to reach the nightstand, getting his phone and lighting a cigarette, rolling onto his back beside you in the pillows before holding one of his arms open for you.

You instantly smile brightly and shuffle into his arms again, pressing yourself into him from the side, and he securely wraps an arm around you, enjoying this feeling of having you tucked close to him. "Oh, there is this amazing local diner. They have everything! Pizza, pasta, burgers, and the spare ribs are to die for! We could-" You start talking loudly and all excited about the food before interrupting yourself when you look up at Sukuna and he just stares back with an amused smile, his hands lazily stroking up and down your bare skin.

"I started rambling again, didn't I?" You ask with an embarrassed chuckle, blushing slightly.

"You definitely did, princess," He answers with a chuckle of his own. "It's cute, though. You get really excited when you talk about food.”

"Yeah, that's because this place is really good! You've never been there?" You still start to ramble on and on about how you discovered the restaurant first and tell him a few fun stories you had with your friends at the diner, wether he wants to hear them or not. In the meantime, you two take a look at the menu and place your order for delivery before comfortable silence falls over you. The only sound is the quiet hum of the air conditioning.

"Sukuna, can I ask you something?" Your voice is timid but serious, a hint of curiosity behind your words.

He immediately turns to look at you, his attention fully on you now as he takes a last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the nearby ashtray. "Course you can, ask me anything, princess.”

For a moment, you carefully think over your choice of words, not wanting to make him angry because this question would invade his personal space too much. "Why do you take drugs? I mean, I kinda get the appeal right now..." You chuckle at the thought of yourself being so much against anything that would break a rule just a few hours ago and now you lay in the arms of the college bad boy and are high like a kite.

He can't help but chuckle at the irony of it all. Just a few hours ago, you were so against any form of rule-breaking, and now you're here. The college sweetheart, lying in Sukana Ryomen’s arms, completely wasted and asking about drugs.

You are a little more serious again when investigating further into Sukuna's private life. "But what got you into it? Was it just curiosity, or did something happen or... I mean, how does one find out about all this stuff?"

He listens carefully as you ask your question, his expression impassive but his mind thinking about how he should respond. It's a personal question, something he doesn’t usually get asked by anyone, let alone some girl he hooked up with. But somehow, he doesn’t mind answering you.

"It started out of curiosity. Most of my friends already started smoking weed and drinking at parties, so I tried it out. Soon, I got introduced to more...hard stuff. It was easy to get, and honestly? It took all my worries and stresses away. It made me feel something, pushing away the usual numbness."

"Yeah... I guess I know what you mean..." Your eyes are distant, and your eyebrows furrow as if in deep thought. Memories you keep hidden deep inside of you bubbling to the surface and emotions that are pushed so far back, that you yourself even forgot about them for a moment.

Sukuna can tell that there are memories and emotions buried deep inside, locked away in a place you hardly dare to visit, brought forward in your drug induced state. He just continues to stroke your back, silently telling you it's okay to go on.

“Growing up as a rich girl is not as easy as one might think..." You mumble.

When you speak again, your voice quiet and strained, he can feel the weight behind your words. Your words hang in the air between you two, and he knows there's more to that sentence than you're saying.

You let out a deep exhale and look at him with a small smile. "The next time you need a stress relief, feel free to call me over, okay?"

Your voice is soft, and the vulnerability from a moment ago is gone. The fact that the both of you almost opened up to one another about deep emotional trauma still lingering heavy in the air even though neither of you wanted to admit it. Whatever this thing between you is, it's better if you don't get too personal.

He can tell you're intentionally steering away from the conversation you are having, trying to lighten the mood and keep things casual. Dancing around the edges of each other's emotional walls, with neither of you wanting to get too personal or vulnerable with each other. It's easier that way to keep things nice and uncomplicated.

"Are you telling me that if I ever need to release some stress, you're willing to take one for the team, princess?”

You let out a bright laugh, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. "The whole team might be a bit much, don't you think? I've seen the guys you hang out with, and I don't think that would work well with my body. Like I could actually die, I think." The image of your small innocent self with Sukuna's drugged cocky friends plays around in your mind. Yeah... that wouldn't end well.

Your laugh is like music to his ears, the sound filling the room and making his heart skip a beat. Your playful response about the team made him laugh as well. The image of you with his rowdy friends causes a mix of emotions to stir within him - both a bit of jealousy and protectiveness.

Your hands come up to cup his face, squishing his cheeks lightly, your eyes sparkling with amusement and a small hint of affection that you aren't even aware of. "But for you, Ryomen Sukuna, I might make an exception.”

When your hands cup his face, the light squeezes, and the affectionate look in your eyes makes his chest feel tight. But of course, he plays it cool, as always, a smirk appearing on his face as he leans in closer to you.

"Damn right, you will!" He growls while tackling you down playfully into the sheets, his head buried in your neck and leaving small little kisses that would soon develop into another exhausting round of you being bent like a pretzel underneath him.

You spent the rest of the night together. Eating when the food arrives, talking about random stuff, watching a movie, and just getting down from the high.

You could feel the effects of the weed slowly subsiding, and you are surprised that you are still content with being around him. You would have thought the moment your head cleared, you would panic. But you didn't. On the contrary even, you rather enjoy his company.

In the morning, he sent you home with a kiss on your lips and a promise to call again, a subtle promise that there will be a next time.

[magpiemalarkey]

Yeah, I wanted to do ttrpg adventures in my Red Riders story setting and decided I didn't want to try to make my own damn system or try to find the system out there that best fit my vision and then convince my friends to learn it. So I homebrewed a Red Riders flavored D&D setting instead.

I actually found it kinda, interesting/helpful in some ways because it forced me to ask a lot of questions about my world and think about what information my players would need (and would want) to have in order to come up with characters and enjoy playing with me in my universe. Do I need to use all this info in my stories? Absolutely not! Do I like having settled some concepts and vocabulary sorted out that I can just sprinkle into stories? Yes!

I will acknowledge that this is not like an efficient way to do world-building for a project. It took me several months to get anything to a playable state, and then several more months after a first playtest to get it to place where I was content with it. (It could stand to be improved, but it's fun as is). And then there were a lot of places where I ended up with two answers to some questions. The "real" answer and the "D&D compatible" answer. And it can be a little frustrating having a solid sense of how something should work and not being able to make it work mechanically. (And honestly, there are things that are fun to read about that would not make an interesting play experience for most people! Figuring out what my players wanted to be able to do and what experience I wanted them to be able to have in my world, and how I could try to make that all work within the system i was playing with was also an interesting exercise!)

There were also some places where assumptions about character/story/world built into D&D were so incompatible with the segment of the Red Riders universe I had chosen to play with that I had to rewrite or entirely omit some things. For example: I left out entire character classes. Even the classes I did keep got tweaked, or required new flavor text.

It was a very interesting project, but also one that made it very clear to me that D&D is not a universal system. (duh). I don't think I have it in me to write up my own perfectly tailored ttrpg for Red Riders. (....yet?) but modding an existing system by breaking and rebuilding things until I get something satisfying to play with was actually pretty fun for me, so I am now eyeing other systems that are better suited mechanically to certain aspects of Red Riders As A Game Experience and hoping some day to find the energy to break more things!

So yeah. Making my story's universe fit neatly into D&D framework was impossible. Violence all around!

Writing fantasy and speculative fiction is actual Hell because achieving verisimilitude demands that you, the author, have a clear idea of how the speculative or fantastical elements of your setting work, but the story will almost always be improved by not explaining it to the reader.

[phoenixkaptain]

Really all three of the Sonic movies are a masterclass in making films geared towards fans while still creating new stories, but Sonic 3 especially because like. They listened! The fans said “we don’t like all these human parts” and the movie went “alright” and there are almost no scenes starring solely the human characters. Even in scenes prominently featuring them, Sonic and friends either show up (making the scene no longer solely focused on humans) or they’re focused in some way on what Sonic’s doing. Like damn man, they really… Listened? And accepted the criticism they received?? And improved??? And they even technically made the wedding subplot in 2 relevent to the plot????

I really liked the movie! Part of that is my fondness for Shadow, who I will never ever get over being the saddest little ultimate lifeform in the whole world. And movie Shadow really ticks all the boxes, I mean- the way he talks so stiltedly? The way he skates? The way he teleports? The fact that he doesn’t even initiate the majority of fights? The fluffiest little ultimate lifeform in ever, truly, 2024/10 for the year of Shadow-

I like this Shadow. The opening scene of him escaping is just beautiful. Him being all drenched filled me with an urge to blowdry him so he could puff up like a lil angry cat. He’s so legitimately awkward and confused watching the Eggmans that I watched his expression more than what either Robotnik was doing. He looks so confused! He’s over there like “somehow, the human has grown weirder with age… and here I thought humans were supposed to grow wiser…”

Also Maria’s face when Shadow gets sad because the movie they’re watching is called “Alien Freak” or whatever??? Beautiful, amazing, outstanding, give this lady an Oscar.

Sonic’s relationship with Shadow throughout the movie is so fun to watch progress. He just canNOT stand this guy!!! This new hedgehog who has definitely been around longer than him!!! Let Sonic be angy, it is so cute.

Tails and Knuckles are also very cute, though they feel a lot more sidelined. Which, I mean, literally every single character aside from Sonic, Shadow, and Robotnik have no character arc. And that’s fine! That’s good, even! Side characters don’t need to be focused on so intently! It only feels strange because Sonic 2 was so different in where it focused, but it isn’t a bad thing! Do I wish there was more Tails? Always. Do I think Knuckles was great just because he could have punched through the barrier really at any moment? Absolutely. I think the characters fit their roles in the movie very well.

All in all, I like Shadow. He is the saddest little ultimate hedgehog lifeform in the history of ever. He isn’t even all that angry for most of the movie. He’s just sad and lost and hopeless and it’s very depressing! Guy really tried to taunt his way into being killed, and I just think him trying to irritate Sonic into committing murder is funny, especially since it very nearly worked. Also, the scenes of Shadow jumpscaring everyone makes me assume that he has been jumpscaring people for years, which causes me to imagine that there were many occasions of GUN agents finding a Shadow where there was not a Shadow five seconds before. When did he get into the cupboard? How long has he been standing behind that door? Can we put a bell on the hedgehog, please, this is getting out of hand!

In my imagined future Shadow series where Shadow becomes friends with Sonic and pals, Maddie makes him wear a little bell so he stops giving everyone heart attacks. He still manages to give everyone heart attacks. I like to think they will occasionally wake up to find him standing at the foot of the bed ominously. Shadow is a eldritch cat monster, I’m pretty sure that was made canon-

Anyway. TLDR: 10/10 movie. The creators listened to the criticism they received on the second movie and made changes. Shadow was perfect. Sonic being taken off guard by Shadow will never not be funny, nor will their banter grow old. The dog has subtitles and I can only assume it’s because Knuckles and only Knuckles can understand him. Stone’s love was reciprocated in the very end. And yeah, I’m with the menacing hedgehog, Gabriella should have just killed Juan and Pablo both and been done with it.

[parkitrighthere]

The Black Orchid Project

Pairing: billionaire CEO!Jeon Jungkook x Secretory!Reader Genre: Dark Romance, Mystery, Thriller Word Count: 19k Trigger warning: This chapter contains morally grey characters, toxic characters, dark romance, trauma, violence, mentions of murder, death, and conspiracy. Reader discretion is advised. Summary: Jungkook is the enigmatic CEO of a major conglomerate with a haunting secret—he can hear everyone’s thoughts. But when Y/N becomes his new personal secretary, she’s the only person whose thoughts remain silent to him. Intrigued and unsettled, Jungkook is drawn to the mystery she presents, not realizing that their connection will unravel secrets neither of them are prepared to face. a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv. The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support. a/n: So, I finally posted. Yeah, I know, shock of the century, right? You were probably out here cursing my name like, 'Where the heck have you been?' Well, I guess I just decided not to post this time. Don’t ask me why, I don’t even know. But hey, I’m sorry for that. I know, I say sorry a lot, it’s like my default setting at this point. But I swear, I’m really going to try and post more. I promise. Maybe. Also, a super huge shoutout and a massive thank you to my absolute favorite person @closer-to-jungkook. She beta-read this mess for me, and gave me so many amazing insights, but guess what? I didn’t do a single thing with them because, you know, I’m a failure like that. So, yeah, basically I let her down as my beta reader. Sorry, girl. But next time, I swear, I’ll actually listen and make you proud... unless I forget, again, in which case... whoops. Anyway, love you guys, and I’ll try not to disappear again... maybe.

PROLOGUE MASTERLIST 02

The meeting dragged on. Time seemed to crawl as if the clock itself was protesting against the sheer monotony of the discussion. It hadn’t been long since it started, but to you, it already felt like you’d been trapped in this room for days. You lost count of the times his gaze—no, his glare—scorched into you. Each glance filled with condescension that felt like a slap across the face.

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, your hands gripping the edges of the table, knuckles white as you tried to appear composed. But your patience was wearing thin. He was overreacting, making a mountain out of nothing. Sure, you’d made a mistake—who hadn’t?—but this? This was ridiculous. What was his deal with the room’s capacity? Why on earth was he so bothered about having more than four people in a room? Seriously, what kind of control freak rule was that? You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Was he scared of crowds or something? Honestly, with his attitude, he should be. If he kept ticking people off like this, one day, someone might snap—and if there were enough people, they’d form a mob. The thought almost made you snort, but you swallowed it down, biting your cheek. It was a silly theory, but it was better than trying to untangle the nonsense of his rules.

He glared at you again. His soft, doe-like eyes narrowed, dark and piercing, with a keenness that made you shrink back slightly. His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping under his skin as he ground his teeth. You flinched instinctively, your body betraying you with a subtle jerk, as if bracing for impact, suddenly aware of how small you felt under his scrutiny. Your hands clenched in your lap, fingers feeling like they might snap, as you tried to focus anywhere else.

You quickly averted your gaze, your eyes darting around the room, desperate for an escape.  Your eyes landed on Taehyung. He leaned back casually in his chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest, his long fingers drumming against the table in a slow, lazy rhythm. As soon as he felt your gaze, his lips curled into a subtle smirk. He raised his brows and blinked at you—once, deliberately.

You felt your face heat, and not from embarrassment, but frustration. God, all these men are insane. You clenched your fists tighter, nails digging into your palms to calm yourself.  You swore they all had some kind of mental dysfunction. Jungkook with his silent rage, Taehyung with his infuriating charm—maybe Jimin was the only sane one in this room besides you.

You sighed, shifting in your seat again, your foot tapping nervously against the floor. Mental health courses exist for a reason, you thought bitterly, your gaze flickering between Jungkook’s scowl and Taehyung’s irritating grin. Maybe they should sign up for all of them.

 As your thoughts spiralled, you dared a glance at him… again. Only to catch the faintest twitch of his brow—precise, calculated. It wasn’t just anger in his expression; it was something darker, something… personal? And it scared you, even if you’d never admit it.

The moment you had been dreading finally came. The meeting was over.

Chairs screeched against the floor as everyone pushed back from the table. The sound grated on your nerves, but you rose from your seat anyway, hands trembling, legs wobbling as though they might give out beneath you.

 Your breath hitched, shallow and fast, a knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. Your heart pounded against your ribs, a viscous thud that made your chest ache.  Was this fear? Anxiety? You couldn’t tell anymore, but it clawed at you, gnawing at your insides like a predator circling its prey. You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to calm yourself, but the uneasy tremor in your chest refused to fade.

You risked another glance at him, keeping your gaze low, peeking through your lashes, a fleeting, nervous look that you immediately regretted.  His gaze locked onto you, soft yet paradoxically so sharp and firm, as if he could see right through you. The weight of his stare felt like a physical force pressing against your temple. You quickly looked away but it was too late.

 Your throat tightening as your heart slammed against your ribs. But it didn’t matter—his eyes stayed on you, burning holes into the side of your head like he could feel every breath you took.

There was something in the way he looked at you—a mix of curiosity and disdain that made your skin crawl, like you were an unsolved puzzle he hated having to deal with. It was as though he were studying you, dissecting you piece by piece. He looked at you like he couldn’t stand the thought of breathing the same air as you, as if being in the same room as you was a personal insult he couldn’t forgive. The corner of his mouth twitched, but not in kindness. A cold, predatory smirk curled his lips, one that made your blood run cold.

His soft brown boba eyes never left you.

And then he smiled. Cold, shrill, and entirely without warmth. A smile that dripped with obnoxiousness and delight, as though he was basking in your unease, feeding off it like it gave him some twisted satisfaction.

 You weren’t sure what scared you more—the venom in his gaze or the fact that you couldn’t look away, no matter how much you wanted to.

"Jungkook," Seokjin’s voice cut through the fragile silence like a gentle breeze, calm and soothing.

Jungkook’s head snapped toward Seokjin, and in an instant, everything about him changed.

 His shoulders, tense and rigid moments ago, relaxed, and his piercing glare melted away, replaced by something soft—gentle, even. His lips curved into a smile, one so sweet and genuine it left you completely dumfounded. You blinked, your mouth falling open in shock.

What the hell?

Your eyes widened,  as you stared at him, disbelief etched across your face.  How... how is this possible? This was the same man who had spent the entire meeting glaring daggers at you, exuding nothing but cold enmity. How could someone so rude, heartless, and obnoxiously infuriating smile like that? It didn’t make sense. It felt like a trick, some cruel joke the universe was playing on you. But there it was—his smile, warm and dazzling, as if he hadn’t spent the past hour glaring at you like you were dirt beneath his shoe.  And now? Now he looked like a painting come to life—a vision of warmth and beauty that shouldn’t belong to someone so cruel.

Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the faint crinkle at the corners of his eyes, the way his smile softened his entire face. For a brief, fleeting moment, you found yourself mesmerized. A small, traitorous voice whispered in the back of your mind, He’s stunning. Beautiful. Perfect. And he was. That smile made him look like something out of a dream, his dark orbs soft and almost shy under the fluorescent light. He was cute too, you realized, in that infuriating way that made you want to scream. And hot? God, no one could dare bring up the concept of hotness without mentioning him.

How can someone so horrible look this… beautiful? The whisper in the back of your mind grew louder. This man is the definition of beauty.

Your cheeks flushed at the thought, and you shook your head quickly, breaking free from whatever spell he’d cast. No. Absolutely not. Don’t go there. You shook your head slightly, muttering a quiet mantra in your head. No, no, no. He’s an idiot. A rude, wicked bastard. Stop it. This is the same guy who’s made your day a living hell. Remember that. But it was hard to ignore the way your heart raced, or the strange flutter in your chest.

Jungkook didn’t respond to Jin right away. Instead, he moved. His long strides carried him around the table, each step smooth and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. He stopped beside Jin, his posture instantly relaxed as Seokjin patted his shoulder in a way that felt natural, familiar.

Jin began to speak again, his lips parting as if to offer some kind of reassurance, but Jungkook cut him off before he could finish.

“Hyung! Let’s go to my office,” Jungkook said, his voice low and soft, almost tender. “We’ll talk there?” His voice was softer than you’d heard it, polite and calm. It was so different from the cold, harsh tone he had threw your way.

You blinked, staring at the two of them as your jaw threatened to hit the floor again. This can’t be real. Him? Soft? It was like watching a lion purr—a sight so contradictory it didn’t feel real. His tone was polite, his demeanour respectful—words you would never have associated with the man five minutes ago

Your eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, struggling to make sense of what you were seeing. Jungkook, the same man who had made your day a living hell, now stood before Seokjin like an obedient younger brother. It was unsettling, to say the least.

He wasn’t just polite—he was soft. Gentle, even.

You couldn’t stop staring. The way he tilted his head slightly when he spoke to Jin, the way his hands relaxed at his sides, no longer tense or clenched. It was so different from the version of him you knew, it almost felt like you were looking at a completely different person.

Your fingers twitched at your side, itching to pinch yourself. Maybe you were dreaming. Or hallucinating. Because the Jungkook you knew? He didn’t do soft. And yet, here he was, proving you wrong with every breath. The man who had made it his mission to make you feel two inches tall was suddenly soft and sweet with Seokjin? It didn’t make sense.

But the warmth in his expression lingered, and for reasons you couldn’t explain, it made your chest tighten. He was more than what you’d seen so far… wasn’t he?

Jin’s face lit up with a bright smile as he nodded at Jungkook. Turning away, he gave Namjoon and Taehyung a light nudge to follow him.

Namjoon responded with a quick nod, a broad grin spreading across his face as he moved to join them.

Taehyung, however, didn’t move. Instead, he slumped further into his chair, crossing his arms loosely and leaning back with a loud, exaggerated sigh. His lips pressed into a pout as he stared at the ceiling like the very idea of moving was a personal offense. It was no secret that Jeon Enterprises and Kim Enterprises were very close; both companies worked hand in hand. Even Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung went to the same school and college together. Their entire childhood and teenage years were spent together, and they were still together. All three of them were always in the news, and always together too. Jungkook knew Taehyung like the back of his hand along with his antics.

Namjoon glanced over, eyebrows furrowing in that “here we go again” way of his as he caught sight of Taehyung’s antics. “Seriously?” he asked, his tone half amused, half exasperated. His hands found their way to his hips, as he watched Taehyung flap his arms against the chair’s armrests.

Taehyung raised his hand in the air, palm out, as if announcing something grand. “No!”  he exclaimed, dragging the word out as he slowly pushed himself up from his seat, slowly, deliberately, making it as dramatic as possible before turning to Seokjin. “I won’t, hyung. I refuse.”

Seokjin didn’t react right away. He merely tilted his head, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly, making it clear he wasn’t impressed. His lips pressed into a thin line as he let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes. His gaze shifted to Namjoon, wordlessly asking, Is this brat for real?

Namjoon only shrugged, an almost conspiratorial grin spreading across his face, as if he found the whole thing more entertaining than annoying. . They both turned their attention back to Taehyung, who didn’t care—if anything, their reactions only fueled his theatrics.  "NO," Taehyung declared, his voice firm, though his lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

“What now?” Seokjin asked finally, his voice calm, dangerously calm, but the words that tumbled out were tight. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be—it was the kind of calm that warned you not to push your luck. His piercing eyes bored into Taehyung, sharp and calculating, a reminder that behind the soft features was a mind you didn’t want to cross.  The sharp edge to it made you flinch, even though the question wasn’t directed at you.

The tension in the room shifted as even Taehyung hesitated for a second, his hand dropping to his side as he shifted under Jin’s obdurate stare. But within minutes he was back to his usual self.

You stood in the corner, half-forgotten, watching the scene unfold as if you were invisible. For a moment, it felt like you were intruding on a private family argument. They were so lost in their little world that none of them seemed to notice you lingering.  The ridiculousness of the scene was almost enough to make you forget the tension lingering in the air. Almost.

Seokjin’s calm demeanour held stable as he waited for Taehyung’s next move, the silence stretching just long enough to make even you hold your breath.

But Taehyung, being Taehyung, jabbed his finger in Jungkook's direction without even sparing him a glance. “He didn’t invite me! Just you, hyung. Just you,” he said, voice laced with mock hurt. Namjoon sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he shook his head, but a soft smile tugged at his lips. How could he stay mad? Taehyung was his little brother, and no matter how ridiculous the stunt, even when they bordered on absurd, he couldn’t help but find it endearing.

Taehyung’s arms crossed over his chest, his pout deepening as he stuck his bottom lip out, eyes narrowing as he watched Seokjin expectantly.

“An invitation? Really? You want an invitation?” Seokjin asked, his voice flat and deadpan, like he couldn’t believe he was even entertaining this ridiculous request. “What is this, a wedding? You want calligraphy and wax seals?”

Taehyung’s pout deepened, his gaze shifting dramatically to the side as he huffed. "Please would do," His voice a mix of childish demand and mock offense, his eyes flicking to Seokjin for any sign of approval.

 “A proper invite,” he huffed. “With manners. A simple please.”

Jimin couldn’t hold back his laugh, it came out bright and loud, like he’d just heard the funniest joke. "What?!" he snorted, stepping forward with an amused glint in his eyes.

 His laughter only grew as he straightened, wiping a fake tear from his eye before stepping toward Taehyung. “From Jungkook? Oh, Tae, you’re delusional.” he said, his voice a mockingly sweet coo.

Taehyung’s brow twitched, and he shoved Jimin away, glaring at him. “Don’t call me delusional,” he snapped. “And stop laughing. It’s not that funny.”

Jimin, still laughing, straightened up and threw an arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. “Oh, but it is, Tae-Tae,” he teased, dragging out the nickname with enough sugar to cause cavities.

Taehyung immediately shoved him off. “Don’t call me that!” he barked, though his glare wavered when Jimin stumbled backward, his laughter echoing in the room.

“Let’s be real,” Jimin said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Jungkook saying please? You’ve got better odds of him baking us cupcakes with love letters on top.”

Seokjin watched the entire scene unfold with a quiet sigh, his arms falling to his sides as he shook his head. “Bloody idiots,” he muttered under his breath, though his eyes betrayed the fondness he felt for them all.

Jungkook, who had been leaning against the wall with the air of someone far too cool to care, quirked an eyebrow. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. The faint smirk on his lips said it all: “Not happening.”

“See?” Jimin said, gesturing toward Jungkook with a wide grin, as if the smirk was proof enough of what he’d been saying.

Taehyung huffed, rolling his eyes as he glared at Jungkook. "He’s insufferable." he muttered, his voice flat but dripping with monotony. He threw the words out with the kind of disinterest that only Taehyung could manage, as though even arguing was beneath him.

“Always has been,” Jimin agreed cheerfully, giving Taehyung a playful pat on the shoulder.

“You want an invite?” Seokjin deadpanned, cutting through the noise like a knife. “Fine. Jungkook, invite him.”

Jungkook didn’t even look up. “No.”

The room fell silent for a beat before Jimin broke into another fit of laughter. “I told you!” he howled, practically doubling over again. “That guy would rather eat his shoe than say the p-word.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Taehyung muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Jimin grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “What’s the matter, Tae? Expecting something special from him? Maybe a song, a serenade, flowers—”

“Shut up,” Taehyung snapped, his face turning red as he swatted at Jimin His glare faltering just enough to reveal a flicker of amusement behind his annoyed facade.

Namjoon, trying to keep it together, clamped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed laughter. Seokjin did the same, clearing his throat to hide the grin threatening to break free. You couldn’t hold back either, a soft laugh slipping from your lips. The sound of it made everyone snap their heads in your direction, and you immediately went still.

“Oh, for the love of—” Taehyung groaned, standing up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly as he shoved it back. “This is ridiculous. Forget it. I’m not playing this game.”

“You’re still mad, aren’t you?” Jimin pressed, a laugh already escaping as he took a step back, clearly enjoying pushing Taehyung’s buttons.

“Like I care!” Taehyung shot back, his hands gesturing wildly before he turned on his heel. He glared at Jungkook one last time. “Who’d want to spend time with a jerk like him anyway?”

You couldn’t help but agree, nodding your head. It was truly, genuinely, sincerely, honestly the most truthful statement you'd heard all day. Even Jungkook chuckled at Taehyung's behaviour, and your gaze snapped back to Jungkook. You stared at him in disbelief; you never thought you'd see this man smiling. Yet here he was, standing in all his glory, proving you wrong.  Jungkook? Laughing? Relaxed? It was like spotting a unicorn in the wild. For the first time, he didn’t look like the insufferable boss you were growing to despise. He looked...earth-shatteringly handsome. You cursed under your breath, clenching your fists to keep from staring too long.

It made you feel like your brain was short-circuiting. Here was this asshole of a man, acting like he was above it all, and yet… he was smiling. It made him look almost… normal.

Why was he so ridiculously handsome? He was a jerk, a complete ass, yet... there was something about him. He was perfect boyfriend material, especially with those tattoos. You'd seen them in magazines, but you wouldn't mind seeing them in real life.

He was a jerk, but otherwise, he was perfect boyfriend material, especially with those tattoos. You'd seen them in magazines, but you wouldn't mind seeing them in real life.

You shook your head abruptly, as if physically trying to dislodge the thought. Nope. Absolutely not. Stop it.

Why were you thinking all this nonsense?

Because no matter how annoyingly perfect he looked in that moment—relaxed, smirking, and effortlessly magnetic—you knew better. He wasn’t your type. Not even close. You were way too smart to fall for someone as much of a piece of shit as he was.

As soon as your eyes met Jungkook’s, your heart dropped into your stomach.  Your legs wobbled, the ground beneath you suddenly felt unstable. You felt like the world had stopped.  The only thing keeping you upright was the edge of the table you leaned against, gripping it so tightly your knuckles turned white. It was like he had forgotten you were even there, but now that he remembered... you were in trouble.

Your thoughts were a mess, a rush of panic flooding your veins. Please, don't fire me. Please don't fire me, you repeated over and over in your mind. His stare made you feel like a sheep waiting to be devoured by a wolf—helpless and small.

Jungkook opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Jimin’s voice cut through, loud but tensed. "Why are you still standing here?" he asked, his eyes darting nervously between you and Jungkook. "I'm sure you have work to do."

You nodded quickly, too quickly, your head bobbing furiously in agreement.

“What work, Jimin?” Jungkook snapped, his voice low and brimming with frustration. “She’s fired,” he declared, sending a shiver down your spine. His words felt like a physical blow, the weight of them crushing your chest. You could barely hear the rest of his sentence as panic drowned out everything else—I've had enough of her…

What to do now?

Cry, a voice whispered in the back of your head.

Jimin, however, wasn’t having any of it. “Enough, Jungkook!” he shot back, his voice hard and commanding. The sharpness in Jimin’s words was like a shield between you and Jungkook’s anger. You could see the way Jungkook’s expression shifted—he was still seething, but Jimin left no room for argument.

“She isn’t fired, and it’s final,” Jimin said. You could see the muscles in his jaw twitching as he tried to control his temper.

Jungkook opened his mouth to retort, but Jimin cut him off with a simple wave of his hand, motioning for you to leave. You didn’t need to be told twice. You bolted from the conference room, not even daring to look back. You weren’t sure whether to be more terrified of Jungkook or grateful to Jimin. You knew you’d messed up—it was your fault—but Jimin had chosen to take your side, and you couldn’t understand why.

You sprinted down the hall toward the elevator. Your hands trembled as you jabbed—no, banged—the elevator button for the 26th floor. The wait felt agonizingly long.

When the elevator finally dinged open, you stumbled out, half-running to your desk. Collapsing into your chair, you let out a shaky breath and buried your face in your arms on the desk. Your head fell onto your desk with a loud thud.

What had just happened?

God, your first day almost became your last.

You took a deep, steadying breath and pushed yourself upright, gripping the edge of your desk to ground yourself. This isn’t the time to wallow, you thought, brushing your hair back from your face with trembling fingers. You couldn’t afford to crumble now.

You can’t mess up again, you reminded yourself, wiping a hand over your face. Jimin might’ve saved you today, but luck won’t always be there neither… he. Luck was fleeting. It wasn’t something you trusted. Not with your history. You let out a dry laugh under your breath—luck and you were like oil and water. You were the ultimate symbol of bad luck, and that delightfully beautiful director of Jeon Enterprises had simply taken pity on you. Yes, it wasn’t luck. It was Jimin’s mercy, and you couldn’t count on it happening twice. Especially not when your boss—the arrogant bastard himself—was likely already sharpening his knives for round two.

The thought of Jungkook—his dark, piercing gaze—still lingered in your mind, but you forced yourself to focus. He was a devil, no doubt, and you... you were just the unlucky fool who happened to cross his path.

You couldn't afford to mess up again. Play it safe, you told yourself. Do your job right and keep your head down. You couldn’t give him another reason to unleash his wrath.

Your eyes fell to the stack of files in front of you, and a sinking feeling hit you hard in the stomach. The pile seemed to grow taller with each breath you took. The next meeting was only thirty minutes away

You glanced at the files scattered across your desk. Focus, you reminded yourself, slapping your cheeks lightly to snap out of it. The next meeting was in thirty minutes, and you didn’t have the luxury of time to curse your misfortune or that insufferable man.

Your eyes darted over the papers, frustration bubbling up as you began sifting through them. The previous secretary—whoever they were—had left behind a tangled mess. A spectacularly awful mess.

 How was this even possible?

You could almost feel your blood pressure rise as you examined the glaring errors.  The deadlines were completely out of sync with the client’s expectations, the budget allocations were so far off it was laughable, and one section even referenced an entirely different project altogether. If this wasn’t fixed in time for the meeting, it would be a complete disaster, and you were the one who’d have to face the consequences.

“This is a joke,” you muttered. You grabbed a pen, tapping it furiously against the table as your brain raced to come up with a plan.

Half an hour. That’s all you had to fix this disaster before you had to present it to a room full of people, including him.

"Fuck you! Whoever you are." you muttered under your breath, pushing your sleeves up, ignoring the beads of sweat forming on your forehead. Get it together, you scolded yourself. “This isn’t rocket science.” Your voice cracked slightly as you muttered the words aloud, as if hearing them would calm the storm raging inside you.

You grabbed the laptop, pulling up emails and client notes to cross-check the project details. The keyboard clacked furiously under your hands. Your brows furrowed in concentration, your lips pressed into a tight line. You clicked open the soft copy of the file, eyes scanning the screen quickly.

You stole a glance at the clock, and your heart nearly stopped. Twenty minutes left. Fuck.

The dull throb behind your temples was growing each passing minute, but you didn’t have the luxury to slow down. Tears? Not an option. You didn’t have time for that. Not when your whole career was teetering on the edge of disaster.

Get through the day without Jungkook turning you into his next verbal target.

 The mistakes were too obvious to miss, too dangerous to ignore. If the client saw these errors, it wasn’t just your job on the line—it was Jeon Enterprises' reputation. And that would mean your boss, Jungkook, would tear you apart, slowly and painfully.

 what have you done to deserve this.

Your fingers slammed against the keyboard as you raced through the sections. The section referencing the wrong project? Gone, replaced with the right one. The mismatched deadlines? Adjusted. The budget allocations that didn’t even make sense? Rewritten, recalculated, and double-checked.

You needed to print the corrected version. Your hands trembled as you stared at the screen, unsure of where to even begin this process. This wasn’t just a small mistake anymore—it felt like the whole day was falling apart in real time. You stared at the screen with mounting dread. Print. Where?

You slapped the print button, watching as the computer confirmed that it was printing, but your brain was far from settled. Printer? Where’s the damn printer? Your heart pounded as you stood, snatching up your blazer and dashing out of your office.

The hallway felt endless as you looked down the corridor. You felt a wave of frustration, the kind you’d never experienced before. You could have screamed, a sound that would shake the walls, but you couldn’t. Instead, you forced a deep breath through your nose and tried to calm yourself.

Finally, you spotted the printer at the end of the hall—right by the breakroom, its small glowing light blinking. It should have been a simple solution, but when you saw the machine, all you felt was pure, hot rage. Why is it always this difficult?

Why did it feel like everything was against you today?

Because of course, it jammed halfway through. Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter as you leaned down, yanking at the paper slot with all your might. The printer groaned, then jammed, and you let out an angry sound that came out as a strangled groan.

“Come on, you stupid thing—work!” you hissed, muttering curses that seemed to make you feel worse. Stupid thing!

You slammed the print button again, your fingers stabbing at the machine. Finally, the printer whirred, clicked, and then began its slow, steady rhythm. You let out a shaky breath, pressing your hand against your forehead to steady the dizziness threatening the edges of your focus.

Finally, the documents started coming out. You grabbed them. You ran your hands over the pages, smoothing them down compulsively as though that would make them more trustworthy. You clutched it like it was your lifeline. Not perfect, but it'll have to do. Once back in your cabin, you shoved the papers into a folder, your chest still tight.

The clock on the wall caught your attention.

Ten minutes left.

 You could barely breathe as you walked out of your office, your feet moving almost on autopilot. In no time, you found yourself standing in front of Jungkook’s office.

You knocked. Once. Twice. And then… you waited.

 You closed your eyes briefly, took a steadying breath. You bit your lip, and raised your hand to knock thrice.

"Come in!" Jungkook’s voice rang out, gruff and loud, cutting through the air. You hesitated for a second before pushing the door open, and every head in the room snapped toward you. You stepped inside, your heart racing as you greeted them with a polite but fake smile, trying your best to keep it together. Only Jimin smiled back. The others... they just stared, like you were some strange creature. Jin and Namjoon looked shocked—why? What was going on? And then there was Taehyung, his eyes wide with what could only be described as disbelief.

Jimin spoke first, his voice light and effortless, and you couldn't help but thank your lucky stars—or maybe it was just Jimin being Jimin. “You need something?”

You gave a short nod and turned to face Jungkook. His eyes narrowed, his arms crossing over his chest, his whole posture screaming annoyance.  His jaw was clenched so tight it seemed like he might snap any second. You swallowed hard, trying not to show how much his stare rattled you.

"Yeah. I was merely here to remind Mr. Jeon that the meeting starts in… like ten—no, seven minutes now," you managed to say, your voice wavering just a little as you spoke. Your hands were clenched at your sides, and you forced yourself not to fidget.

You stole a quick glance around the room. Jin and Namjoon had gone back to their own conversations, but Taehyung was still staring at you, mouth slightly open like he couldn't believe you were standing there. Jungkook still hadn’t said anything, his eyes still boring into you.

"Thank you," Jimin said, his smile soft and genuine. "He’ll be there."

You nodded once, trying not to let your relief show too much. You gave a quick, polite bow of your head, then turned, making your way to the door, your steps hurried but controlled. As you left the room, you couldn’t help but think—Jimin was an angel, working for a devil. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done without him today.

As you walked out of his cabin, you caught the faintest sound of Taehyung’s voice drifting behind you.

“Damn, dude! She’s something. She must be… to get you this worked up. Wow! I loved it.”

You didn’t linger to hear the rest, though. It was like your feet were moving faster than your brain, the urgency propelling you back to your cabin. You sprinted to your desk, your hands shaking as you skimmed through the pages one final time. You stapled them together. You had to present this with confidence, one mistake and Jungkook would tear you apart.

Five minutes left.

“You’ve got this. Just fake it. Fake it all the way.”

Your heels clicked sharply against the marble floors as you made your way to the conference room. Your grip on the file tightened, your knuckles white. When you reached the door. With a firm push, you stepped inside.

Walking to the table, you laid down the stack of updated project files, replacing the older copies. Once every seat had the corrected file, you finally slid into your chair. The leather seat creaked softly as you sank into it, and you folded your hands tightly in your lap to steady them. You darted a glance at the door, waiting for everyone's but specially Jungkook’s inevitable arrival. You flipped through the files for what felt like the hundredth time. The numbers blurred slightly before your eyes, but you forced yourself to focus.

The sharp sound of the door opening made your head snap up. Jungkook walked in with the same air of authority that always seemed to announce his presence before he even spoke. His eyes locked onto you, narrowing instantly, and his jaw clenched so tight you swore you heard his teeth grind.

You stifled a sigh, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your face neutral. What now? You wondered bitterly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. Jungkook didn’t just dislike you—he hated you—like, deep, unrelenting hatred. For what reason? Who knew. And frankly, you didn’t care.  If you could, you would’ve told him to take his reasons, his anger, and his goddamn temper tantrums and shove them up his perfectly tailored ass, but you knew that wouldn’t help you keep your job.

He moved around the room with precision, as he made his way to his seat. His attention was fixed on you, like you were some annoying fly he wanted to swat. You straightened in your chair. He dropped into his chair with an air of casual authority and grace of someone far too confident for their own good.

For a moment, your traitorous thoughts drifted. He was handsome—annoyingly so. Sharp jawline, paradoxically piercing boba eyes, and a frame that looked like it was carved by a sculptor. But his attitude? That was enough to ruin the whole package. If only his personality matched his looks. If only he wasn’t such a pompous, insufferable jerk. Instead of charm, he had an ego the size of the goddamn building. If he had even an ounce of kindness or respect to him, he would’ve been perfect. But no, instead he walked with the kind of arrogance that could suffocate a room, his back rigid and his posture as stiff as the stick lodged firmly up his ass.

You shook the thought from your head. He wasn’t worth your time.

The door opened again, and this time it was the clients. Jungkook stood, but just barely.

He simply stood halfway and gave a curt nod that was so half-hearted you wondered if it hurt his pride to be polite. God forbid Mr. Perfect lower himself to basic manners. His expression didn’t change—stoic and unbothered—while yours shifted into a polite mask. Maybe you were expecting too much. Maybe you were the problem. You slid your chair closer to the table and sat down next to him. You offered the clients a small smile, hoping to compensate for Jungkook’s complete lack of warmth.

But his eyes. God, his eyes. They didn’t stray far from you.

You placed the documents in front of him. You kept your gaze fixed on the table, careful not to meet his boba eyes. “Here! Mr. Jeon,” you whispered, your voice as even and professional as you could manage. The last thing you wanted was to give him even an inch to criticize you.

Before you could pull your hand back, his fingers closed around the file. His hand was warm—too warm—and for just a moment, your cold, dainty fingers brushed against his. The warmth of his hand lingered on yours, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Your body felt paralyzed, shocked, maybe even mesmerized by the sensation.  You couldn’t pull away—not because you didn’t want to, but because you physically couldn’t.

Jungkook’s hand retreated first, leaving your fingers tingling. You leaned back in your chair, clearing your throat as heat crept up your neck. You turned your attention to the clients, offering a polite smile. They exchanged a few glances, their expressions unreadable.

Why are they looking at me like that?

Before you could figure it out, Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence, quiet and low. "Why are you making that face?"

You turned toward him, startled. “Huh?”

He didn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the papers in front of him as he leaned back in his seat. His voice was soft, like a whisper, but it hit you like a punch to the gut.

“You look like you’re constipating,” he said, his tone casual, smooth, utterly calm—and utterly cruel and casual, as though commenting on the weather.

Your face fell. What did he just say? Your mouth fell open slightly in horror, heat rushing to your face. He did not just say that. You glared at the side of his face, imagining all the ways you could strangle him with the tie he wore so smugly. Murder was illegal, but maybe, just maybe, you could make an exception.

 Ignore him. He’s not worth it or… should you just strangle him? Oh, you wanted to strangle him. No, you needed to strangle him. Who even says that? You huffed, straightening in your seat and glaring at the file in front of you.

Jungkook flipped open the folder, his sharp eyes scanning the documents.

And then it happened—a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, so subtle you almost missed it. “Let’s begin,” he said smoothly, finally turning his attention to the clients. But just before he did, his gaze flicked to you, brief but searing.

The meeting began.

The meeting dragged on. Your hand ached from jotting down notes, your fingers stiff as they moved across the page. All you could think about was how Jungkook managed to handle these clients—their demands were endless, their standards sky-high. Jungkook, somehow, handled their lofty standards with an ease that almost infuriated you. How could someone so insufferable be so damn good at this? You, however, were drained. Mentally, physically, emotionally. All you wanted was to go home, curl up, and forget this entire ordeal. But the clients showed no signs of slowing, so neither could you. You scribbled furiously, keeping up with the endless stream of requests and comments, your hand cramping around the pen. Every now and then, you stole glances at the clock, silently begging for it all to end.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the meeting came to an end.

 The clients rose, shaking Jungkook’s hand with smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Jeon,” one of them said, their tone oozing professionalism. Then their gaze flicked to you, offering a curt nod—no words, no acknowledgment of your work. You swallowed the frustration bubbling up in your chest and nodded back, forcing a tight-lipped smile. Typical. You bit the inside of your cheek, swallowing the bitter taste of resentment as they exited the room. Well, women in corporate field.

The door clicked shut, leaving you alone with Jungkook. Your mind was hyper-aware of his presence.

He was leaning back, the picture of ease, his chair swinging slightly from left to right. His left leg rested over his right, one arm draped casually across the armrest. He didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound, but the intensity of his stare was enough. You didn’t dare look up. Not after what had happened earlier. Not after what he said earlier.

You stole a glance, his tie had loosened slightly, the top button of his shirt undone. When he did that? He looked like he owned the entire world, and the infuriating thing was—he probably did.

You remembered what you thought while applying for this job: How hard could it be to work for him?

You’d found out the hard way, within mere hours.

Jeon Jungkook wasn’t just hard to work for—he was impossible. A devil in designer suits. A man who had no mercy and no patience, especially not for someone like you. Your first day had made that abundantly clear in the worst way possible.

Jeon Jungkook wasn’t someone to take lightly. He was a storm you hadn’t prepared for, and it was already threatening to swallow you whole.

You pushed the glass door open, ready to step out, but then you heard it—his voice, loud and clear.

"Pebble!"

You froze. Slowly, you turned around, almost colliding with the door in the process. His eyes locked onto yours, and a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t the friendly kind—it was something else. Something that made you feel both irritated and, disturbingly, giddy.

"What?" you muttered, your voice low and unsure. You weren't able to understand why you gripped it ever so tightly.

He stood from his chair, rising with an ease that felt effortless, his hands casually buried in his pockets. His movements were smooth, deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to examine you. He was far too good-looking for your sanity, far too composed, far too everything.

 Fuck him, and fuck your good sense.

What was this? Why were you feeling so fragile in front of him? You didn’t have time to figure it out because, in three long strides, he was standing in front of you, so close that the scent of his cologne wrapped around you.  His eyes were still on you, as if he were studying you—no, devouring you with just a glance. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. And that, right there, made you even more furious.

Is this guy stupid? you wondered. What was the point of staring like that? It felt intrusive, unnerving, yet somehow, you couldn’t tear your own gaze away.

 Staring, in your book, was the hallmark of cheap behaviour, reserved for people with no manners or boundaries. But he somehow pulled it off, with that smirk and those features and that way he seemed to have everything in the world under control. As if his ridiculous good looks gave him a free pass.

"Coffee. In my office."

"Huh?" was all you could manage, your voice barely above a whisper, still unsure of what was happening.

He tsked, shaking his head like you were hopeless. “You heard me. Black. No sugar. Ms…” he trailed off, his brow furrowing slightly.

Your eyes widened in realization. He didn’t know your name. Or worse—he hadn’t even tried to know it until now. Your throat tightened, and you opened your mouth, about to respond, but before a single word could leave your lips, he finished with,

"Pebble."

Your mouth hung open, as you watched him leave.

Pebble.

He had just called you Pebble.

You stood there, staring, stunned, unable to believe what just happened.

He was the most disrespectful, irritating, unbearable person you had ever met.

The anger built up in you until you couldn’t stand still anymore. You stomped your foot hard against the ground.

You would make him regret this.

Oh, you absolutely would.

With a resigned sigh, you turned toward the elevator, dragging your feet. At least you now knew where the coffee machine was—down at the far end of the floor. Great. More walking. You hadn’t even done this much cardio in the past year, let alone in a single day. No wonder all the women here looked so fit—they practically lived on their feet.

When you reached the elevator, you noticed him—Jungkook—already stepping into it. Your pace slowed instinctively. No way were you getting in that elevator with him, even for a single second. He wouldn’t stop the elevator for you anyway—he was too much of a jerk to care.

But when had life ever gone according to your plans?

Before you could change direction, you heard the sound of the doors closing and sliding back open.

Oh, hell no. Your body tensed. You didn't want to step in there with him, but you didn’t have a choice. You dragged your feet reluctantly. The annoyance in his eyes deepened, and a muscle in his jaw twitched, like he was already regretting his decision to wait for you.

Finally, you reached the door.

“Get fucking in, woman.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You stepped inside, muttering curses in your head, and the doors slid shut with a soft ding.

 You didn’t dare move, didn’t dare look at him, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you, like he was trying to figure you out or, worse, punish you for existing.

Maybe he was pissed.

And you? You couldn’t decide if you hated him more in this moment or if you just wanted to get out of this damn elevator as quickly as possible.

“I thought you had work here,” he said, his tone casual.

“Huh?” you managed, surprised.

He shook his head, as if you were already the most frustrating thing he’d encountered that day.

“Do you know anything else besides ‘huh?’”

You opened your mouth to retort, but he didn’t wait. “I said, I thought you had work here.”

“What work?” you snapped. His eyes flared. But the bastard smirked, like he’d been expecting this reaction.

“What meeting do we have next, Pebble?” His voice was smooth, almost playful.

Your stomach dropped. Pebble. He had just said it again. But. You froze. His words lingered in your mind like a bad omen, but all that filled your head was white noise. The name of the company… where was it? Shit.

He chuckled, the sound low and smooth, just to make sure you knew how badly you’d messed up. “You need to collect some files from marketing and sales team. You forgot.”

The damn files. I forgot? You swallowed hard, glancing around the elevator as if the walls could give you an answer.

“What are you trying to do—break the glass and jump into the sales and marketing floor?” he said, his tone as bored as his expression. His words felt cruel, but you knew there was a bite of truth to them.

You shook your head, cheeks heating as you mentally berated yourself. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, embarrassed and annoyed. More walking. That’s all you could think about now.

The elevator doors opened, and Jungkook stepped out first. He glanced up at you, raising an eyebrow, and for a split second, you thought—just maybe—he might say something remotely decent. But no, that was far too much to hope for. His lips curled into that damn smirk as he turned away and said, “Coffee. On my desk. In five minutes.”

Before you could even respond, he turned around and walked away.

You stepped out of the elevator, its door closing behind you. You let out a frustrated exhale. . God, I hate him. You made your way to the coffee machine. You prepared the coffee just like he’d ordered, and even the smell made your stomach churn. The bitterness of it matched the bitterness radiating from him.  No wonder he was always so damn miserable. A person who drank this much bitter coffee could only have a bitter heart.

You walked down the hall to his office. The door was slightly ajar, and you knocked softly, holding the cup in your hands.

“Come in,” he barked again from inside.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside, placing the coffee on his desk. He was sitting at his desk, back straight, his sharp features focused on his laptop. The desk was neat, pristine, every paper and pen in its place, a stark contrast to the chaos on your desk.

“Here, Mr. Jeon,” you said, your voice tight with forced politeness.

He didn’t even look at you. Instead, he grabbed the cup, bringing it to his lips like it was the most important thing in the world. His eyes fluttered closed as he took the first sip, and you watched in disbelief as he sighed deeply, as though he’d just tasted heaven.

“Good,” he muttered, but it wasn’t directed at you—it was all about the coffee. Your stomach turned at the absurdity of it. He didn’t even acknowledge the fact that you’d stood there, prepared it, and handed it to him.

“Send Jimin in my office. Now, leave,” he demanded, his voice flat, as if he were speaking to a wall, not a person.

 Every inch of you wanted to pull his hair out, to throw something across his perfectly organized desk. Instead, you nodded stiffly.

“Sure, Mr. Jeon,” you said, forcing the words past your clenched teeth before turning on your heel and leaving.

Once outside, the first thing you did was head straight for Jimin, who was at his desk, buried in papers. His workspace was cluttered with post-its, notes, and scribbles. His eyes lifted when you approached, and though his face showed signs of being busy, his greeting was polite as ever.

“What brings you here, Ms. …,” he began, with a soft smile.

“Mr. Jeon wants you in his office,” you replied, keeping it brief. You didn't have the energy to engage in any more small talk.

"Why?" Jimin asked, as he stood up, closing the file in his hands and sliding his blazer on with a sharp tug. You just shrugged. Jimin gave a small nod.

“Alright,” he said, adjusting his blazer. His tone indicated he didn’t mind being interrupted. “I’ll head in there.” You watched as he walked toward the hallway.

You followed your own path toward the marketing department first. You handed over the files, your hands sore from too much writing, before heading toward the sales department. The constant movement was starting to wear you down, but you couldn’t let it show. You did the same at the sales department, before finally making your way back to your office, your feet aching more than ever. This is going to be a long day, you thought, pressing a hand to your lower back as you settled into your chair.

Before you could catch a break, the clock ticked, signaling that it was time for the next meeting. You picked yourself up again, shoulders sore and heavy, and made your way back toward Jungkook’s office.

You knocked on the door before stepping in, your hand pressing into the wood with slightly trembling fingers. This time Jimin was in there with him, seated on the couch. He looked agitated—hands running through his hair as he exchanged words with Jungkook.

You hesitated at the threshold. You didn’t want to intrude on their conversation. You quickly turned on your heel, shaking your head as you backed out. These guys were insane.

You closed the door behind you with a gentle push and let out a shaky exhale. Your hands gripped your notebook tightly as you walked back toward the hallway.

The next meetings were a blur. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you found yourself relieved when Jungkook skipped every other meeting for the day. He didn't show up, and Jimin took over. The clients didn’t seem to mind the change, and in fact, it made things easier. Jimin’s presence was soothing.  His voice was soft, his smile was kind. He spoke in careful sentences, his calm composure like a reassuring presence. Working with him was smoother, quieter—lovelier, even. He made the chaos of the day seem more manageable, and you found yourself wishing you found yourself wishing you could work for Jimin, just him.

But you quickly shut that thought down. That wasn’t possible, not when you were stuck in this job, tied to Jungkook. No matter how much you hated it, you had to stick around. It was unviable to leave, even though every part of you screamed for the chance to escape. You have to stick around him.

As the last meeting came to an end, you gathered the files and followed Jimin out of the conference room. He took the files from your hands. You were thankful for his help, but the lingering feeling of being under the spotlight didn’t fade. You hated the attention, and of course, everyone would stare. Having the director of the company himself helping you with your work was far too big of a deal. The eyes of all the female employees had burned into you as you walked out. You couldn’t shake the sense of discomfort, and it only worsened as you stepped into the elevator with Jimin.

"Mr. Park, you really don’t have to do this," you said, offering a shy smile as the elevator doors slid shut behind you.

Jimin, however, seemed unfazed. He gave a lazy smile, his voice light as he answered. "Oh, I’m not doing it for you." Jimin leaned casually against the wall, eyes scanning the floor numbers as they lit up.

You blinked, confused, your brows knitting together. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He turned his head, flashing you a mischievous grin. "It’s more for me, really."

Your frown deepened. "For you?" You couldn’t hide your confusion, but Jimin just chuckled, clearly entertained by your reaction.

"You see," he began, shifting slightly to face you fully. His eyes sparkled with a playful yet sincere gleam. "I come from old money. I just can't stand the idea of a woman doing something like that when I’m around. Makes me feel like I’m failing somewhere. I��ve got this fragile ego, you know?" His voice was light, teasing, but his smile softened as he continued. "It just feels better to help out. Plus, it’s... good manners."

"Yeah?" You asked, tilting your head slightly, your eyebrows furrowing as you tried to make sense of his words. The slight smirk tugging at his lips told you he knew you were lost but didn’t care enough to explain. Instead, he only shrugged nonchalantly, his expression  so casual it almost felt dismissive.

Before you could respond further, the elevator dinged softly, and the doors slid open. Jimin stepped out first. You followed behind as you adjusted your grip on the files. He led the way to your cabin, his presence drawing a few curious glances from colleagues. You felt those stares prickling at your back again, but Jimin seemed entirely unbothered. He walked you to your cabin, while you struggled to keep up with his pace. When he finally reached your desk, he placed the stack of five thick files down with practiced ease, brushing invisible dust off his hands like it was no big deal.

"All set. Anything else you need before I head out?" he asked, his voice light as he straightened his blazer.

Thanks again, Mr. Park," you said, shaking your head.

Jimin gave a small nod in return, stepping back. Just as he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder. "Take care, pretty," he said, his tone casual, yet the words felt deliberate.

Your hands froze mid-motion as your head snapped up, eyes widening in surprise. Heat rushed to your face, and you felt the unmistakable blush spreading across your cheeks like wildfire. You stared at the empty doorway where Jimin had disappeared, his words echoing in your mind.

"What the hell," you muttered under your breath. Forcing yourself to focus, you picked up the files, flipping through the pages with renewed determination. It was time to finish up for the day, but not before ensuring everything was in order for tomorrow. Your fingers worked quickly, your eyes scanning schedules and notes, the lingering warmth on your cheeks refusing to fade completely.

When you finally finished your work, you grabbed the file Jungkook had instructed you to complete and headed to his office. As you approached, you noticed the door slightly ajar. Through the small gap, you could see Jimin sitting in one of the chairs in front of Jungkook’s desk. Jungkook, on the other hand, sat with his brows furrowed in a way that seemed permanently etched into his face. It was a wonder Jimin didn’t crack under the weight of his perpetual grimace. If he wasn’t so ridiculously good-looking, you were certain his demeanour would’ve been a massive letdown.

"Are you even human?" Jimin's voice rose, his tone laced with disbelief as he leaned forward, his palms slapping against the desk with a dull thud. His lips pressed tightly together. His words seemed to hit like a quiet plea, but Jungkook didn’t seem to care. His eyes stayed glued to his file as he flipped the pages.

"I am dying over here. I am that tired and you are one of the reasons behind it. Don’t you dare ignore me, Jeon Jungkook!" Jimin continued, his voice a mixture of disbelief and frustration. His words grew louder as he leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up in the air, as if trying to physically puncture Jungkook’s indifference.

"Huh?" Jungkook’s voice was flat, almost absent, as he gave Jimin just a single glance, his eyes flickering for a mere millisecond before he turned back to the file in his hands. He gave a distracted nod, not sparing Jimin much more attention.

Jimin’s jaw dropped slightly, his annoyance reaching a boiling point. "Seriously!" he exclaimed. His fingers curled into loose fists as he leaned back, pacing a step before planting his hands on his hips. "You made me handle all your meetings and deal with my own workload. I’ve been running around like a headless chicken while you sit here, all cozy with your stupid papers! Do you not have any regard—"

"You're right," Jungkook said, his voice steady and matter-of-fact, cutting off Jimin’s rambling mid-sentence. He slowly closed the file in front of him and placed it neatly to the side. This time, he leaned back in his chair, his posture loosening slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest. His dark, boba eyes locked on Jimin’s. "I am sorry, hyung. You're always picking up the slack for me. I don't say it enough, but… I’m really grateful. I couldn’t do this without you."

Jimin froze for a moment, his brow furrowing as he eyed Jungkook suspiciously. His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head, studying Jungkook as if he had just grown a second head. "Oh? What’s wrong with you?" he asked, dragging the words out slowly. He leaned forward in his chair, elbows digging into the edge of Jungkook's desk. "Show me your head. You punk, I’m sure you hit it somewhere."

Jimin shot up from his seat and lunged across the desk with inflated urgency, his hand reaching for Jungkook's head like a concerned but overly dramatic mother.

"Jimin-shi!" Jungkook exclaimed, his voice rising in protest as he swatted at Jimin’s hands. He grabbed Jimin’s wrists, prying them away from his head. His brows knitted together as he leaned back further in his chair, out of reach, glaring at Jimin. "I swear, I’ll kill you."

"There you are," Jimin said, a grin spreading across his face as he let out a sigh. He flopped back into his chair, dramatically wiping his brow as if the ordeal had been exhausting. "I was worried for nothing. Glad to see the real  grumpy, homicidal self's still here."

Before they could exchange any more words, you finally stepped forward, your knuckles rapping lightly on the doorframe.

Knock, knock.

The sound broke through, causing both their heads to snap in your direction.

For a moment, you felt rooted to the spot, like a deer caught in headlights. You tightened your grip on the file in your hands, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place you felt. Clearing your throat, you finally stepped inside. "Sorry to interrupt," you said.

Jimin’s lips curved into a faint smile, and he tilted his head, gesturing toward the file. "It’s fine. Come in. Looks like someone’s got work to do, unlike us," he teased, his tone light.

You tried your best to force a smile onto your face—a polite, controlled, and friendly expression—but as your eyes met his. Your throat felt like it had closed up, your voice thin and wobbly. Why did he make you so nervous? Yes, he was intimidating. Yes, you’d dealt with difficult bosses before. But there was something about him—something that felt wrong, a shrill, intense warning in the back of your mind, like a distant alarm telling you danger was near.

Your heels clicked softly against the floor as you passed Jimin’s chair. He was sitting casually, his hands clasped behind his head, completely at ease as he looked over at you. You stopped beside Jungkook's desk, just behind where Jimin was sitting. "Mr. Jeon, I just finished the tasks you assigned." Your voice was soft but steady as you extended the file toward him. You forced yourself to meet his gaze, though it felt like staring into the eye of the devil. "Here’s the file. I’m leaving now, so I was wondering if there’s anything else you need before I go?"

Jungkook didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, slowly and precisely. His sharp gaze scanned your face, lingering on your forced smile before sliding down to the file you’d placed on his desk. A smirk curled at the corners of his lips, and his eyes—soft and doe-like at first glance—betrayed a sharp, predatory glint. "Actually," he drawled, his voice carried an edge that made your pulse quicken. He gestured lazily toward the towering stack of files on the far corner of his desk. "I do need something."

Your eyes widened as they darted to the stack, a silent gasp catching in your throat. The files seemed endless. You swallowed hard, glancing back at him, but his expression was unreadable. You couldn’t decide if you were more nervous or outright afraid of what was coming next. "See those files?" he continued, tilting his head slightly, his tone casual as if he were commenting on the weather. "I need them reviewed and sorted by tomorrow."

And you just stood there for a moment, trying to figure out whether you had a choice, or if you were already drowning. Tomorrow? That was impossible. You turned back to Jungkook, hoping to find some hint that he was joking, but his expression was calm and unyielding, like carved stone.

"I…" you began, but your voice faltered.

"Something wrong?" Jungkook asked, tilting his head slightly as if daring you to argue.

It was your first day, and you couldn’t understand what went wrong. You’d always thought Jungkook was handsome, admired him from the glossy pages of magazines and the distant buzz of news. You'd been excited, so excited to work for the most wanted bachelor in the continent. But now? Now, it wasn’t going as planned.

Too much work. Too much. How could anyone be expected to handle this much work? You thought you could handle challenges, but this? This felt impossible. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. You’d probably have to sell your soul to some demon and even then, it still wouldn’t feel enough. You couldn’t do this. You shouldn’t have to do this. But the thought of giving up? That wasn’t even an option. You wanted to scream. No. You didn't want to scream you wanted to kick him where the sun doesn't shine.

"To-tomorrow," you stammered, barely able to believe the words coming out of your mouth. You were close to snapping, but something in his gaze made you hesitate.

"Impossible?" Jungkook interrupted, his voice a low, smooth. His eyes locked on yours, the warmth in them replaced with ice. "I’m not interested in hearing any excuses. You need to understand where and for who you’re working. Workload is a usual thing here. You either do it or resign. It’s up to you. Nobody’s begging you to stay."

The words were harsh. There was no softness to them, no room for debate, no compromise. He wanted you to know that you had no power here. His small, smug smile confirmed it—a clear taunt, a game to him, and you could feel it deep in your bones. He wasn’t just being cold. No, he enjoyed this. He was tormenting you, and you knew it. He was such a sadistic being.

"Understood," you said, the words coming out of your mouth with a firmness that surprised even you.

You turned your back to him and grabbed the stack of files from where they were carelessly left. The moment you lifted them, you knew this was going to be hell. It was heavy—too heavy—far heavier than you’d expected. Your arms shook as you struggled to balance them. You almost stumbled under the sheer force of it, but you steadied yourself.

You bit your lip, fighting back the urge to ask Jimin for help. You glanced toward him, only to find that he and Jungkook were locked in a silent staring match, their gazes locked like two wolves sizing each other up.  Jimin looked like he was about to explode. You couldn’t drag him into this. He already looked like he was walking a thin line, and you didn’t want to add to the fire. Besides, Jimin looked angry enough already.

So, you started walking.

You struggled your way out of his office. Your legs wobbled under the weight, and you nearly stumbled into the doorframe as you tried to maintain your balance. You wanted to scream. You hated him. You hated everything about this. Him. His smug smile. His icy tone. His ridiculous expectations. In truth, you’d never felt this much resentment toward anyone. Not even your previous bosses had managed to push you this far. But Jungkook? He was something else entirely. A walking nightmare wrapped in a handsome package, and you were stuck in it.

The moment you stepped into your office, you slammed the door behind you. You were done. You were going home. You couldn’t wait to get out of here. You grabbed your bag and purse. You cursed under your breath, knowing you couldn’t leave without grabbing those files too. There was no way you were going to spend another minute in that sterile, over-designed office. You adjusted the files again, and with a final shake of your head, you stepped out of your office. Your feet moved on autopilot as you walked toward the elevators. You didn’t look back. There wasn’t any point.

You knew you’d have to come back.

You knew you’d have to face him again.

But for now, you needed to get out.

The first day had been hell, all thanks to your devilish boss.

Jungkook and Jimin stepped out of Jungkook’s office. Jimin shot a sharp glare at Jungkook, his brow furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. Jungkook, on the other hand, wore a smug, teasing smile that danced at the corners of his mouth. He could feel Jimin’s annoyance and found it far too satisfying to ignore.

"Jiminshi," Jungkook said casually, but Jimin didn’t even give him a second glance, his jaw clenched as he exhaled sharply.

“Shut up,” Jimin snapped back without hesitation, the heat in his voice enough to make Jungkook pause for a second. It almost made him laugh, but he quickly held it back, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Come on, Jimin. We’re already late. And Jin hyung will be mad if we get even more late," Jungkook added, his tone light but carrying an edge of urgency. His smile was easy and easygoing, the kind that always got under Jimin’s skin, and this time, it did the trick. Jimin let out a slow, exasperated breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as he let his irritation simmer down. He nodded once, fingers gripping his phone a little too tightly. His hand flexed as he tucked it back into his pocket, his gaze fixed forward as they walked towards the elevator side by side.

Jungkook pushed the button to call the elevator, and Jimin stood next to him, arms crossed, still giving off that frustrated vibe. But Jungkook could see the edges of his irritation slowly dulling. Even if Jimin was pissed, he wouldn’t stay mad for long. Jimin was always the wise one, and he knew that getting upset over Jungkook's antics wouldn’t help anything. Jin had invited them for dinner tonight, and they both knew this wasn’t just another casual evening. Jimin had told Jin about you—how Jungkook couldn’t hear your thoughts, which still felt weird and foreign to him. It was strange, unsettling in a way, and Jin had wanted to discuss it. He’d called them both over, saying he needed to talk. Jungkook was curious about what Jin had in mind. It wasn’t every day that Jin invited them over, especially not without a reason.

The elevator doors opened, and Jungkook gestured for Jimin to enter first. Jimin grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. Jungkook stepped in behind him, and the two of them stood in silence. He was looking forward to the evening, not only to talk things out but also to meet Jin's wife. She was a kind and sweet woman. If it wasn't for Taehyung, they would have never met her. Jin had been married for years, but he rarely invited anyone over, keeping his personal life guarded. Jungkook and Jimin always looked forward to her company. Jin, on the other hand, was borderline obsessed with her. It was impossible not to notice the way he adored her. They all had to be on their best behavior when she was around, though—Jin’s protective streak was well known.

The elevator doors closed with a quiet swoosh. They descended in silence, the air feeling heavier as their thoughts swirled. Both knew this night would give them more answers, but they weren’t sure what kind of questions would arise afterward.

Jungkook and Jimin soon stepped into the reception area. The receptionist was seated at her desk, typing quickly, and her head lifted the moment she saw them. She offered a polite smile as they approached.

"Good evening, Mr. Jeon, Mr. Park," she greeted warmly. Jungkook didn’t even spare her a glance. His eyes stayed ahead as he strode past her. He could hear her thoughts—granted, not every single word, but enough. Disgusting. Intrusive. He had no shame in admitting it. He didn’t feel the need to entertain it, so he ignored her completely.

Jimin, however, was different. His easy smile came naturally as he gave her a small, polite nod. His body language was relaxed, his movements smooth as he walked beside Jungkook toward the parking lot. His gaze was neutral, a simple act of kindness that contrasted sharply with Jungkook's indifference.

They reached the parking lot, and Jimin climbed into his car, his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. He had originally planned on making Jungkook drive, but the irritation bubbling in him from earlier—the way Jungkook had acted with you—made him rethink. He was annoyed, not just because of what happened, but because Jungkook’s behavior had crossed a line. It wasn’t professionalism; it was just unnecessary rudeness. Pure and simple. Jimin had half a mind to lecture him, but instead, he started the engine, the sound of it roaring to life filling the air.

But Jungkook didn’t get in his own car. His eyes weren’t on Jimin, nor were they on the road. They were locked on something—or rather, someone.

You.

You were standing by your car, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, your head bowed slightly. Your shoulders looked tense, rigid, the way they always did when you were tired. You were clearly trying to calm yourself, but your lips were moving. You were speaking to yourself, or maybe the wind, but Jungkook could see it—your face contorted into something that looked like frustration, like rage.

He observed you. His body was suddenly heavy, his thoughts distracted. You looked like you wanted to set the entire parking lot on fire. From the way your hands tightened into fists by your sides, Jungkook could tell you were seething, clearly ready to explode. He couldn’t hear your thoughts, couldn’t read your mind like he could with everyone else, but it didn’t matter. Your expression was enough. You were cursing him out, he was sure of it.

It felt wrong to stare, but he couldn’t stop himself. It was like an itch buried beneath his skin. His entire body ached to know what you were saying, but you were like a closed book—impossible to read. It irritated him. That feeling of helplessness, the itch he couldn’t scratch. He hated not knowing exactly what you were thinking, hated that he couldn’t tap into the storm swirling behind those eyes. You looked like you wanted to strangle him, and the idea actually made him chuckle darkly to himself.

As much as he hated to admit it, there was something oddly magnetic about you. You looked so exhausted, so ready to shatter, your emotions playing across your face like an open book he couldn’t read. And that drove him insane. He wanted to know all of you. Every thought. Every word. Every secret. But he couldn’t. And it pissed him off.

His chest tightened as he studied you, his mind working in circles. Even though you looked like you were about to explode with frustration, there was a strange sense of calm that settled over him. Paradoxically, your anger—your confusion—was like a balm to his restless thoughts. His hands twitched at his sides.

And you, completely unaware of his gaze, kept muttering, your words too quiet for him to catch. The cold wind swayed your hair, and Jungkook wondered if you had any idea what you were doing to him. He hated that he cared. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to know.

He shifted his weight, a part of him wanting to walk away, but another part of him... couldn’t. He hated how curious he was about you. You were a puzzle he couldn’t solve, and that was something Jungkook couldn’t stand.

You suddenly turned your head, catching Jungkook’s eyes locked on you. Jungkook’s breath hitched. The shock of being caught sent a wave of heat through his chest. His eyes widened in alarm. Shit.

He knew. He knew you caught him. His face twisted into a mix of panic and frustration, and before he could overthink it, he whipped his head around, his heart pounding. He didn’t wait. He didn’t hesitate. He bolted into his car, yanked the door open, and slammed it shut behind him. Without looking back, the engine roared to life as he slammed his foot on the accelerator, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. He sped out of the parking lot, his focus darting between the road and his rearview mirror, where you were barely visible in the distance.

But before he could even breathe a sigh of relief, the heavens opened up. Rain poured down in sheets, soaking everything in an instant.

And then—he cursed.

He hated the rain. It always made him feel fragile, exposed, as though the world was pressing in on him in a way he couldn’t control. The sound of it pounding on the roof, the windshield, and the pavement—it was overwhelming, and it irritated him that he couldn’t understand why. It was stupid.

He glanced at the road, but Jimin’s car was nowhere to be seen. Of course, Jimin was probably already halfway there, and here he was, alone and soaked in this awful weather. His head was a mess, and his frustration felt tenfold. Great. He groaned, slamming his palm against the steering wheel. Perfect. The rain made it harder to see, the windshield wipers swishing furiously, but still, everything was blurry. Most people would’ve slowed down, maybe even pulled over. But Jungkook wasn’t like most people. So, he didn’t. His foot pressed harder against the gas, not caring about the storm that made the road slippery and hard to see.

Then, Jungkook’s eyes caught sight of Jimin’s car parked outside a convenience store, headlights flickering through the rain. He let out a soft, amused chuckle, shaking his head.

Typical Jimin.

Jimin was probably picking up some random snacks or an odd gift for Jin and his wife. The thought made him grin—what could you possibly find at a convenience store that would be good enough for dinner with Jin and his wife? Not much, he figured. But Jimin would always find a way to make things interesting. There was no way Jimin would have time to get something nice, and even if he did, Jin wouldn’t care. Namjoon wouldn’t even be there; he was off with his girlfriend. It was the kind of casual thing Jimin would do, and Jungkook was sure Taehyung along with Eunji (Namjoon's girlfriend's daughter) would tease him mercilessly about whatever he picked up. He could already imagine the scene: Jimin sulking, pretending to be annoyed, but secretly enjoying the attention. He spotted Jimin emerging from the door, an awkward bag in his hands, and he wondered what he had found.

But it wasn’t enough to make him stop. He didn’t want to be stuck in the rain any longer, so he pressed on, the road slick with water. The roads were empty. His headlights swept through the downpour, and the sound of his engine roared louder, mixing with the patter of the rain. The world felt gray and cold, and for a moment, he wondered if anyone else was even out here. His eyes darted, blinked twice, then three times in quick succession. A sharp flash of light broke through the downpour—streetlights, or headlights—too fast, too sudden. He squinted, trying to make sense of it, but his vision was useless against the storm.

Something’s coming.

Before he could react, he felt it. A sharp, sudden jolt as his car lost control. His hand gripped the wheel harder, his muscles tensed. He tried desperately to turn the steering wheel, left, right—anything to steady the car—but it felt as though the wheels had no grip at all. His breathing came out in short, sharp bursts.

And then it hit.

The sound was deafening—metal groaning, glass shattering. Jungkook’s body was thrown against the seat as the car twirled. He barely registered the impact before the airbag exploded in his face with a loud whoosh, his head slamming into it with force. His vision blurred, and the pain came, biting and sudden. His chest felt tight, his breaths shallow. The car spun—once, twice, thrice. His hands trembled against the steering wheel, and his head throbbed painfully. His heart felt as though it would pound out of his chest.

For a moment, everything went silent. He could feel his body shaking. His head swam, dizziness clouding his vision. His pulse raced as the rush of adrenaline hit, but then, fear—a feeling he rarely ever felt—took over. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. Not after Mr. Park took him in. Not after Jimin became his family. He wasn’t supposed to feel this vulnerable. But now, the sensation was loud and personal, crawling up to his heart, through his arms, and into his bones.

Jungkook's world spun around him, the blur of the rain and the crash fading into nothingness. Suddenly, time seemed to stop. The sound of the storm, the screeching tires, everything disappeared. He wasn’t in his car anymore. He wasn’t even on the road. No, he was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere warm.

He was seven again.

The leather seats were soft, comforting, and the scent of his mother’s perfume lingered in the air. The only sound was the soft hum of the engine, a calm contrast to the chaos he had just left behind. He glanced around. His father was driving, hands steady on the wheel, wearing his familiar cheeky smile. His mother sat beside him, head against the window, her gaze distant but peaceful. Jungkook shifted uncomfortably in the back seat, squeezed between the seatbelt and the door. His arms were crossed tightly, shoulders hunched in frustration, as he kept his head down to avoid their attention.

“Hun, how long until we get there?” his mother’s voice broke the calm, soft and uncertain, reaching his father’s ears. She turned her head toward him with a small smile, her face lit faintly by the dashboard glow.

Mr. Jeon turned toward her, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. He shot her a cheery look, his eyes soft with affection as he answered. “Quite,” was all he said, but there was a warmth in his voice that made her smile.

But then Mr. Jeon's eyes found him.

Jungkook was sitting in the backseat, his little arms crossed tightly over his chest, his puffy cheeks flushed red. His head was turned toward the window, a frown tugging at his lips.

"What happened, Jung?" His father asked gently, voice full of care.

Jungkook’s gaze flickered up to meet his father's eyes, but he didn’t speak. Jungkook just huffed, his lip curling slightly, trying to hold back more tears. His arms tightened around himself, his small body so tense it seemed like he was trying to disappear into the seat. His eyes welled up again, and he sniffled, looking away.

“He don’t want to go.” Mrs. Jeon whispered softly, her voice light but firm, as though she’d been trying to ease the situation for some time. She shifted in her seat, her hands lightly brushing her white Chanel dress.

"I know that," Mr. Jeon said with a soft chuckle, his eyes flicking back to Jungkook. "But why?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Mrs. Jeon shrugged her shoulders, turning toward her husband with a helpless smile, her eyes glinting faintly with understanding. “You know how shy he is,” she whispered to him, just loud enough for him to hear but not Jungkook. Her voice was soft and wrapped in familiarity, like a gentle assurance.

Mr. Jeon chuckled softly, nodding in understanding. He then turned his attention back to Jungkook, his smile wide and encouraging. “But Taehyung will be there, too. Don’t you want to play with your hyung?” he teased, wiggling his brows playfully as he spoke.

Jungkook’s expression twisted with irritation. He pouted even more, his arms folding tighter across his chest. “No,” he snapped, his voice a little louder than before. “No, Taehyungie.” He refused to even look at his father, turning his head toward the window. His little hands balled into fists at his sides as he sat there.

Mr. Jeon froze for a moment at Jungkook’s sudden outburst. His eyes widened briefly as he glanced back at his son in the rearview mirror, but he let it go. He wasn’t angry—he never was with his son—but the outburst was unexpected. Jungkook wasn’t one to open up easily, and Mr. Jeon understood that. It wasn’t that Jungkook disliked Taehyung; he just couldn’t handle him. Taehyung was too much—too loud, too dramatic, too confident for Jungkook’s liking. His endless antics and unshakable charm always rubbed Jungkook the wrong way. It was easier for Jungkook to retreat into his shell than to deal with someone like Taehyung. Jungkook preferred the quiet, the safety of his own thoughts, while Taehyung was none of those things.

“Park uncle and his son are coming too. You wanted to meet Park uncle’s son?” Mr. Jeon tried again, his voice light and filled with gentle encouragement. He glanced back briefly, his brow furrowed slightly. He wanted Jungkook to at least be excited.

They were heading toward the Kim mansion for a grand party. A formal event with a lot of people, glittering dresses, and chatter. The kind of place where smiles felt like currency and charm was the language. It was important because their families shared good relationships with the Kim's. It was a social obligation.

But Jungkook didn’t bite. His gaze fixed on the rain streaking down the window. He pressed his cheek harder against the cold glass, the coolness against his skin doing little to ease the rising frustration in his chest. He wasn’t interested. His father’s words barely registered in his mind. The whole idea of going to a big event, the crowded space, the noise—it all just felt overwhelming.

“No,” Jungkook muttered, his voice tight, almost as if he were trying to seal off any further conversation. He could feel his father’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care. He didn't want to go. Not to meet Park Uncle’s son. Not to that party. Not anywhere. He wanted to stay home. He hated people. All of them. Parties. Crowds. They made his skin crawl. Even though Park uncle was always kind and brought him chocolate, even though he was gentle and easy to talk to, it didn’t matter. Meeting his son was a thought that felt like a chore.

Mr. Jeon’s face softened with a small, exasperated sigh. He turned his head, catching his wife’s eye for a brief moment. Mrs. Jeon gently tapped his arm, urging him to stop pushing Jungkook. But Mr. Jeon didn’t listen. He could see his son’s discomfort and it worried him. He wasn’t going to let it slide this time.

“Son, listen,” he began, trying again with more patience, his voice firm but not unkind. “You should—”

But his words were cut short by the sudden screech of tires and a blinding flash of headlights, too bright, too fast. Then—boom. Something slammed into their car, a deafening crash that shook everything around him. The impact tore through them, sending the car off the road. The world spun wildly, glass shattered, metal twisted, and screams filled the air. His head smacked against the seatbelt, his shoulders pulled hard by the force as the car twisted and turned like a broken toy. His arms flailed, his hands gripping at anything they could find, but there was nothing.

Finally, the car came to a violent stop and everything felt eerily quiet. The sound of the engine sputtering, the hiss of rain, and the faint, dull ringing in his ears filled his senses. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision, but his head spun. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood. His chest was tight, his breath shallow. Through his blurred vision, he saw it—them. Blood streaked his vision, dark and warm as it trickled into his eyes from a gash on his forehead. His breath came in short, broken pants. He couldn’t see clearly—everything felt distorted, red, and wrong.  His mother was there. Her body was twisted, crumpled, unnatural, and there was so much blood. Everywhere but specially beneath her.

“Mom…” he whispered, his voice broken, a thin, desperate sound. His lips trembled, his head shaking as though he could will it away, but the horror wouldn’t leave. His small hands gripped at his seatbelt again, his fingers sticky, his face soaked with rain and fear. All he knew was that his mother was hurt, she was bleeding and wasn't moving.  No, no, no… His chest ached, a desperate pain that he couldn’t understand.

His eyes shifted to his father, still breathing, but barely. His father’s chest rose weakly, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead, and Jungkook’s heart twisted in his chest. “Dada…” His voice cracked, the sound barely more than a whimper as he reached out for his father, his small hands pressing against the seat. The fear was suffocating, but the pain of seeing his father so helpless, so close to slipping away, was worse. His body shook uncontrollably, his tiny frame trying to fight the overwhelming terror that threatened to swallow him whole.

The silence felt unbearable. Everything around him felt like a blur, yet every detail was all real and painstrikingly cruel. His hands trembled, his body shaking, his chest aching as he waited—desperately—for some kind of answer. But before his father could respond, figures emerged from the darkness dressed in black uniforms that glistened faintly under the rain. Their presence felt wrong, but the night itself was nothing if wasn't sinful. Jungkook’s head spun, his ears ringing painfully. The sound was distorted, every word like a distant, broken whisper. But the fragments came through, jagged and broken.

“And, it’s done... Wasn't much. Let him suffer.”

Jungkook visibly flinched at their words, his heart hammering against his ribcage. His ears rang painfully, making it hard to hear, but the fragments reached him like poison.

“He denied boss, after all.”

"Hmm, all he needed was that file. Black orchid project's file."

 "Yeah, stupid motherfucker." They turned to leave, but then one of them paused, looking back at Mr. Jeon’s bloody form, a sinister smile creeping across his face. “You know, since you’re dying anyways, let me tell you something… we found her. We got the first kid from the Black Orchid project. And with her, we’ll get them all. And with you dead, who will stop us.”

Their laughter was cruel and hollow, echoing in the stillness like nails scraping across the floor. Jungkook’s chest tightened, and his stomach churned, bile rising in his throat as they disappeared into the rain. The words haunted him, swirling in his mind, but before he could process them, another sound broke through—the sound of his father’s breath.

Mr. Jeon’s body shifted, his chest rising and falling in labored, shallow breaths. His tear-streaked face twisted with pain as his eyes met Jungkook’s, the weight of everything crashing down in those last, fleeting moments. “Jungkook…” His voice was raw, barely a whisper, but it carried so much guilt that it felt like it could suffocate him. “I’m so sorry, my boy… this… this is all because of me.”

“Dada…” His voice was cracked, shaky, the fear rising in his chest like a storm. His hand reached out instinctively, trembling, but it fell short, his small fingers grazing the air instead of his father’s skin.

Just as Jungkook’s vision began to blur, another sound broke through the haze—the screech of tires and the distant sound of shoes splashing through the rain. Relief flickered faintly in his chest. Someone was coming. But his blurry gaze couldn’t make out who it was.

A pair of feet appeared before him, followed by the frantic sound of someone running, slipping in the rain as they skidded to a halt next to the wreckage.

 It was Mr. Park, panting, his face pale with shock as he took in the horror before him.

Mr. Park dropped to his knees beside the wreckage, his hands trembling as they hovered over the twisted metal, unable to focus on anything but the devastation before him. His breath hitched in his chest as his gaze fell on Mrs. Jeon’s crumpled, lifeless form, and the tears welled up instantly, blurring his vision. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. All he could manage was a broken, “Oh, my... How… what?” His gaze settled on Jungkook’s mother, crumpled and lifeless in the front seat, and his breath hitched. His hands gripped the cold, wet metal of the car, his entire body shaking as he fought the overwhelming wave of fear and sorrow threatening to drown him.

“Hang on! I’ll get you both out, I promise!” His voice cracked as he spoke, his hands fumbling against the seatbelt, desperate to pull them free.

But Mr. Jeon, with great effort, shook his head. His face was pale, slick with sweat, and blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. His voice came out hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but the words cut through the chaos. “No... no... listen to me.” He coughed, his body convulsing from the effort, and blood spattered onto his chest. “I... I won’t be able to make it out of here. Take Jungkook... get him out... and raise him. There’s no one else I trust more than you, Park. You’re like a brother to me. Please... take care of him... like he’s your own.”

Mr. Park’s eyes filled with tears, and he squeezed them shut for a moment, trying to push back the wave of grief threatening to drown him. His chest tightened, and his voice cracked as he fought to keep it steady. “I will. I promise. But don’t say that, we can still—”

“No…” Mr. Jeon’s voice was barely a whisper now, weak and distant, almost drowned out by the rain. The faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips, but it quickly disappeared as he coughed, blood staining his mouth. “It’s too late for me… just save him. Please.”

Mr. Park’s hand trembled as it hovered over Mr. Jeon’s, and he nodded, his lips trembling. He wasn’t ready to accept this, but he knew there was no choice. “I’ll take him,” he whispered. “I’ll take him, I promise.”

With trembling hands, Mr. Park unbuckled Jungkook, his heart breaking at the sight of the boy’s tear-streaked face, pale and bloodied. The tiny body was limp in his arms, and he fought to hold back his own tears, knowing it wouldn’t help. Jungkook’s head lolled against his shoulder, eyes barely open, blinking with confusion and fear, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.

“I’ve got you,” Mr. Park whispered, his voice rough with emotion, his arms tightening around Jungkook as he lifted him from the wreckage. The boy’s head rested against his chest, the faintest stir of breath against his skin. “It’s going to be okay,” he said, though he knew nothing about this could ever be okay. If anything, he himself didn't trusted his words. They felt hollow.

“I’ll be back to get you. And I’ll get you out too, just hang there,” he said, his voice final, desperate, and certain. His hands trembled as he cradled Jungkook against his chest, his gaze flickering back toward Mr. Jeon, whose eyes were barely open. Mr. Park wasn't sure if he was even capable enough to fulfil that promise but at moment it was all he could offer, it was all he had left.

Mr. Jeon’s eyes fluttered, a faint nod the only response he could manage. His body had grown so still, but the tear streaked face, the way his lips trembled, said everything. He knew it was a promise that wouldn’t be kept—but he nodded anyway, and the last bit of hope faded in the silence of the wreckage. With one final glance, Mr. Park turned, his arms cradling Jungkook against him, as he ran toward safety, the boy’s limp body a stark contrast to the life and pain surrounding them. The rain continued to pour, and with each step, it felt like the world was slipping further away.

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered weakly as he was carried to Mr. Park’s car. His small body felt light and cold against the older man’s chest. Inside the vehicle, Jimin sat in the backseat, his wide eyes staring at the scene before him. His small hands gripped the edge of his seat tightly, his knuckles pale in the dim glow of the headlights. When Mr. Park placed Jungkook beside him, Jimin’s shock melted into an visible concern. His little face was a mix of worry and gentleness as he shifted closer, his small body trembling slightly. Without hesitation, he wrapped his tiny arms around Jungkook, pulling him into a hug. The warmth of Jimin’s embrace was so soft, so comforting, but it felt like it wasn’t enough.

“Don’t cry… it’s okay, don’t cry,” Jimin whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he pulled Jungkook closer. Jungkook’s eyes burned, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. His throat was tight, his chest hollow with loss. The last thing he felt before the world around him went black was Jimin’s arms, holding him tight, and the warmth of a friendship that now felt fragile, like a thread ready to snap.

Meanwhile, Mr. Park’s hands were shaking, his desperation choking his every movement as he turned back to the wreck. His heart pounded in his chest as he sprinted toward the flames, but he didn’t make it. Before he could even reach the wreckage, the explosion erupted in a violent wave, the flames licking at the sky as they consumed the car. The explosion rocked the ground beneath him, the heat so intense it scorched his skin, and the rain didn’t do a thing to stop the inferno. The sound of the blast echoed in his chest, and for a moment, Mr. Park stood frozen, his body trembling from the shock, the image of his closest friend burning into his mind.  His breath caught in his throat, his heart twisted painfully, but he couldn’t move. He watched as the fire consumed everything—everything he had hoped to save. The rain poured harder, but it was useless against the inferno.

And just like that, Jungkook lost everything in one brutal, cruel instant. His mind hung on that moment, the crackling fire and the unyielding rain swallowing it all. The sound of the explosion still rang in his ears as he was pulled from the memory. Another sharp, blinding flash of light cut through his closed eyelids, yanking him out of his haze. His head throbbed painfully, the beat of his pulse a steady rhythm that seemed to match the aching in his skull.

A car screeched to a halt in front of him, the sound cutting through the fog in his mind like a blade. For a moment, he thought it was Jimin. But that couldn’t be right—Jimin was way behind him, far away from this mess, in a safe place. How could he have gotten ahead so fast? Jungkook’s thoughts came fast and fragmented. His breaths came quicker, his hands trembling harder as his body tensed with uncertainty.

What was happening? Was it Jimin? Was it someone else? His mind felt fractured, his body unable to respond. His body felt paralysed, useless.

The driver stepped out into the downpour, his black uniform drenched in seconds, but he moved forward with an unsettling calm. The sight of the uniform—it was like a switch had been flipped inside Jungkook. But his thoughts were too scattered, too foggy, to make sense of it. The closer the man got, the louder the buzz in Jungkook’s head grew, like lightening sissling through his skull. It was unbearable. His hands flew to his temples, fingers digging in desperately, but the pain only intensified. A low, broken groan escaped his throat.

Without warning, a loud, brutal crash shattered the silence. The man had smashed the car window. The sound tore through his body like a physical blow, breaking his fragile focus. His eyes flew open just as he felt the sting of broken glass. The shards flying like tiny stars of pain that bit into his skin. Before Jungkook could even flinch, a rough hand wrapped around his collar and yanked him from the seat. He was dragged out into the downpour, the cold, icy rain slamming into his face, washing away the blood. The cold slapped against his skin like a thousand tiny knives, but he was too weak to react. His limbs were heavy, his body numb, as if it wasn’t even his own. He couldn’t fight back. The man dragged him across the slick road like he weighed nothing, and with a brutal toss, he was slammed onto the wet pavement. His body hit the ground with a sickening thud, and the cold, muddy water instantly soaked through his clothes, seeping into his bones.

He forced himself to push up or at least he tired. His hands trembled, weak and brittle, but he couldn’t hold himself. His body gave out, and he collapsed back into the mud with a helpless, wet sound. His face turned upward, the rain blurring his vision, every droplet a sharp needle that dug into his skin. His chest heaved, his breaths coming in shallow bursts, but the pain in his skull, his limbs, and his chest refused to go away. Jungkook tried again, his body shaking harder this time. His head swayed from side to side as he struggled, but the rain felt endless, each droplet pounding into him, each one deeper, colder, meaner. His heartbeat was an erratic drumbeat in his chest, thudding against his ribs like it might give out at any moment. His vision remained a hazy blur—everything was grey, wet, and cold, and the pounding in his skull grew stronger with every heartbeat.

Jungkook’s eyes fought to stay open, his vision blurring more with each passing second, but the shape of the man in front of him became clearer. The man in the black uniform loomed over him, a dark, shifting figure that blurred in the rain. His face was a shadow, but the smirk on his lips was cruel and clear.

The man’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched Jungkook struggle beneath him, barely able to lift himself up on one elbow. His hand gripped the gun with a steady, deadly calm, and as he crouched down, water splashed from his chin, droplets falling onto Jungkook’s face. “Look at you,” he sneered, voice dripping with mockery, “pathetic. No high and mighty prince now, huh? Where’s your guard dog to save you?”

Jungkook’s chest heaved in ragged breaths, his heart hammering in his ribcage. He could feel the weight of his body dragging him further into the puddle, the cold seeping into his bones, but his muscles were too weak to fight back. His hand twitched, desperately trying to reach for something—anything—to push himself up, but it shook violently, unable to get any purchase. He gritted his teeth, eyes clouded with pain and dizziness, unable to respond, unable to do anything but lie there and take it.

“today was my lucky day, I guess,”  he laughed.

“You’ve been a thorn in our side for too long,” the man continued, his voice dropping lower as he straightened, standing taller. His form was solid and imposing, his boots kicking mud as he took a step back. The gun rose, glinting under the pale light of the streetlamps. The barrel was cold, steady, and pointed directly at Jungkook’s chest.

“Time to put you out of your misery, kid. Join mommy and daddy. I wager... You’ve been dying to.” A cold sweat broke out across Jungkook’s skin even in shrill rain, and for a brief moment, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened, flicking between the gun and the man’s mocking face, terror clawing at him from the inside. His chest tightened, his body frozen as the world spun around him, and he tried once more to move, to escape, but his legs were useless, as if the earth beneath him was swallowing him whole. All that remained was the sharp, unrelenting noise of the rain and the sickening sound of the man’s finger inching toward the trigger.

Jungkook’s body went rigid as the man’s words echoed in his mind. His heart thundered in his chest as the memories of his parents flooded him—their lifeless eyes, the blood staining the night, the terror that gripped him then and now. His hands, slick with cold rain, shook uncontrollably as he stared at the barrel of the gun. His throat constricted, but no words came out—only a choked sob that was lost in the downpour.

The man’s grin widened, cruel and savage, as he inched his finger toward the trigger. Jungkook could see the gleam in his eyes, the satisfaction of finally having the power to take everything from him. The laughter in his voice was sharp, like glass scraping against his skin, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he squeezed the trigger.

"Goodbye, Jeon Jungkook."

The gunshot shattered the night—louder than the storm, louder than the pounding in Jungkook's ears. For a brief, agonizing moment, the world seemed to stop. The rain paused in midair, hanging like frozen tears, the wind silenced as if holding its breath. Jungkook felt the world tilt beneath him, and his body instinctively braced for the impact that was supposed to come.

a/n: So, how’d you guys like it? Hate it? Loved it? I need the feedback, break me, but like... gently, okay? I’m fragile and I’ll cry, like, on the spot. But honestly, there might be some grammatical disasters in there. Why? Because I got sick and just didn’t have the energy to do much editing work on it. So yeah, don’t judge me too hard, I’m basically a walking disaster right now. Also, I really hope you still love Jungkook after reading this. Please don’t hate him. Show him some love. And, like, show me some too, because my ego is starving. Tell me how amazing it was (or, like, pretend it was) and boost my fragile little ego, okay? I need it. Love ya, guys!

[autisticshadowthehedgehog]

yes the plants take the gem but what does that have to do with sonic and tails can you explain I'm very intrigued

i'm assuming you're referring to this post!

In the anime Sonic X, the third season was dedicated to a completely original story. (also obligatory "please watch the subbed version, the dubbed version got censored heavily" mention) The spoiler-free version is that group of aliens in fucked-up robot armor, led by Dark Oak, descend on Mobius to try and steal the Chaos Emeralds. In attempt to save the universe from these freaks, Super Sonic scatters the emeralds across the galaxy before crashing to the planet (he's fine tho). The aliens, known as the Metarex, then attack the planet and steal something from its core, causing the plants to slowly wither and die.

Around this time, a refugee from space crashes on the planet, looking for Sonic. An anthropomorphic plant, her name is Cosmo and she is the last survivor of her race after the Metarex attacked her ship. She knows Sonic as the only person who can control the chaos emeralds, and begs him to help defeat the Metarex. Turns out these guys have been planet-hopping and genociding as they go, but their main goal is to steal the Planet Egg, which is a magic thing at the core of each planet that keeps it alive and thriving. She currently doesn't know what they're using them for but it's not for anything good. And, well, now they're hunting chaos emeralds... and, as we find out later, making fake ones.

Tails happens to have a spaceship so the whole gang goes into space to fight the Metarex. This takes up the entire season and it fucks severely. Again, the English dub was heavily censored; the og Japanese has constant death and shit. In the last of the spoiler-free bits, I will say that if you have ever heard of "Dark Sonic"... this is where he appears.

The entire season is extremely dark but extremely well-written, which makes it very popular in the fanbase. Ian Flynn has previously stated he wanted to adapt this arc to comic but Sega wouldn't let him; us seeing the Chaos Emerald surrounded by plants, along with fake chaos emeralds and Dark Sonic-implications, is making us wonder if Sega's let up and we might get this arc after all.

Now, spoiler version, though I really do suggest you watch the subbed version of this season bc it's a fucking masterpiece:

We find out late in the season that Cosmo and the Metarex are the same species. In this species, the sexual dimorphism is a different "final stage" of their life cycle. The "male" plant-creatures enter their final stage as basically a kaiju, in order to defend their society from threats; the "female" final stage is turning into a giant fuckin tree in order to reproduce with seeds. The downside is that once you enter this final stage, it is FINAL, and you die shortly after.

However, when their planet was attacked by an unseen threat (it's never clarified, but a lot of people theorize it to be the Black Arms considering Shadow 05 was about to drop), they were all about to get wiped tf out. Dark Oak started experimenting with the Planet Egg in order to stay permanently in kaiju version without dying. His wife, Earthia (or "Ashia" in Japanese, but it just translates to "Earthia") is fucking horrified that he's fucking with the life of their planet like this. While he convinces the "males" to join his side, Earthia escapes with the girls and bombs their planet to kill Dark Oak and his new monsters. They survive though, and Dark Oak starts leading them to steal more planet eggs.

Turns out their plan is to use the power of the eggs and chaos emeralds (fake or real) to do a full-scale attack on the entire fucking universe, which will kill all animal-people and turn every planet into overgrown plants. We actually see some characters from a Shadow one-off episode being killed and violently turned into trees in one scene. Fucked up. That's what they want to do to everything.

And Cosmo? Well she didn't just happen to be a survivor; turns out Dark Oak spared her from the attack on her ship, semi-possessed her in order to spy through her eyes and ears, and yeeted her down to Mobius. He's been using her to spy on the Sonic Crew this entire time, against her will and without her knowledge. It fucks everyone up a WHOLE lot.

Anyway there's like a three-part finale where Super Sonic and Super Shadow are desperately trying to keep these fuckers from Mass Genociding. Finally, Cosmo realizes that she's the only one who can stop this and sacrifices herself; she goes into her Final Stage, turning into a tree but trapping Dark Oak in there with her (it's a long story, he kinda turned into a meteor). She then appears to Tails, the ship captain, and tells him to fucking shoot her to kill both her and Dark Oak, saving the galaxy.

The problem is, Tails and Cosmo have had a bit of a romance over the course of the season. It's been fucking adorable, and Tails became extremely protective of her after Shadow tried to kill her (long story). There's an uncomfortably drawn-out scene (and I mean that in the best way) where Tails is like. Emotionally broken and trying to figure out any way to do this without killing Cosmo. Eventually, he has to give in and fucking shoot her, blowing her and Dark Oak up. It saves the galaxy but traumatizes the hell out of him.

Super Sonic and Shadow contain the blast, and Super Shadow chaos-controls it away and disappears (this is likely bc they were setting up for the Sonic Heroes arc, where Shadow would have to appear out of nowhere again). When Sonic returns to the ship, Tails meets with him, desperate for him to say he saved the day last-minute and brought Cosmo back. Instead, all Sonic could find was a single seed– considering how the Metarex reproduce, it's probably Cosmo's child, but it's never clarified. This causes Tails to have a complete fucking breakdown.

The season p much ends there. They show everyone starting to heal on Mobius, have a bit where the anime-exclusive character Chris has character development and leaves to go home, and then go "and now we're going to have more adventures!! yay!!" before panning to a potted plant in Tails's workshop, showing that the seed has sprouted.

As I said, it's very dark, but VERY good, and thus we all really really hope that it's what Sonic IDW is building up to. They've been building up fake Chaos Emeralds, Tails blaming himself for things outside of his control, and Sonic being 110% done. I didn't even get into the Dark Sonic stuff, cause it only appears briefly in one episode and then is never mentioned again, which you'd think would be bad writing but no it just raises so many questions and you know that was what was intended by it.

The arc is really beloved but because it only appeared in a 2005 anime (which was heavily censored in English, and the og Japanese didn't air officially until a couple years ago), not a huge chunk of the fanbase knows about it. Which means we really want to share it and get more people into it and how good a character Cosmo is. So yeah that's what we're excited for.

[rotationalsymmetry]

So, once a long time ago I had a boyfriend. And there were a couple times we had misunderstandings. Where I didn't want a sex thing and he did the sex thing. And I knew they were misunderstandings, because he used to talk, a lot, about how he used to have a hard time figuring out when women wanted to have sex with him because they wouldn't say so directly. (I was 20. He was in his mid 40's. I'd rather not get into the age gap stuff right now, it's not like I didn't know that people didn't approve of 40 somethings dating 20 year olds.) (although, if you happen to be pretty young and reading this: this sort of bullshit does seem to happen more often in these situations.)

Several years later, I was dating new people again for the first time in a while, and I didn't want more of those misunderstandings, so I was trying to figure out how I could communicate better. You know how it is. The thing is though, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that the number of things I could have done differently in the situation were actually quite limited and also not clearly better. Whereas what he could have done differently, well.

I do not, in fact, think my ex was confused. Not any more. I think he knew damn well what he was doing and was covering his ass. Creating plausible deniability. (Which, clearly, worked. At the time.) So, yeah. I know what the song means. And I know neither that song nor any of the many other songs I could name that have blurred lines around consent caused him to do what he did. But, that song and things like it -- rape culture -- and more importantly the absence of counter narratives that describe rape and consent accurately, did contribute to how *I* saw things, did mean that when I was raped I didn't think it was rape. I figured it was understandable, because of course sometimes women don't say when we want sex or play hard to get, so of course some men have trouble telling real no's. I thought he was confused, not malicious.

I don't hate It's Cold Outside because I think it describes rape. I hate It's Cold Outside because I think it and songs like it contributed to me seeing my own violation as an honest mistake.

And in general I think adding information, ideas, stories is better than taking them away. And also. I do not want to have to listen to that damn song.

*sigh*

Yes, I know that Baby It's Cold Outside is supposed to be fun and naughty and flirty. I know the social context in which original listeners heard it. I know the social scripts they were playing with.

But - and here's the kicker - I don't exist in those contexts, and in my context, where the vast majority of people listening to the song don't have that context, it feels fucking gross and creepy and I don't like it. And! No amount of lecturing and hectoring people about what it's really about is going to change that we aren't in the same social context anymore.

Lecturing people about how they're wrong about how they feel about a song because that art doesn't land on them the same way it does on you just makes you look like a smug twat who doesn't get how art works.

"Let people enjoy things" comes with the correlating idea "let people fucking hate things."

And I just didn't like that song before I had to go through the annual ritual of listening to the lectures on why I'm wrong to dislike the song at all.

Now?

Now I violently fucking hate that fucking song.

[tealeaf29]

ARCANE SEASON 1 AND 2 SPOILERS

Y’know what? I’m gonna say it:

As a system myself, Jinx/Powder is a system.

It’s difficult to pin point the exact point of the split, and whether or not it even happens on screen, but I’m gonna say Powder’s breakdown in season 1 episode 3 is the first time we see Jinx fronting.

Throughout most of season 1, Jinx is in front. Not all the time, but a lot of the time.

People already talk quite a bit about how the arcane animators put time and effort into differentiating Powder and Jinx as two separate entities, is it really a stretch to call them a system?

Here’s the part that’s tripping me up though.

“Jinx is dead.”

I’m not sure who says that line.

Personally, I think it’s Jinx we see bonding with Isha. I think it’s Jinx we see talking about Powder being a stupid name. I think it’s Jinx we see saying Jinx is dead.

The best scene I think for showing the concept that Ninx and Powder are separate people, separate alters, is season 1 episode 6, when Vi and her sister reunite. It’s Powder that sets off the flare. It’s Jinx who angrily throws the flare on the ground. It’s Powder who fronts when Vi says her name and it’s Powder Vi hugs. But it’s Jinx who points PowPow at Vi. It’s Jinx who fires upon the Firelights with a smile on her face. It’s Powder who watches her sister get taken, and it’s Jinx who cries out in outrage moments later.

Second best scene for this is season 1 episode 9’s tea party scene. I don’t think I need to really explain that one too much, and there’s so much more I wanna say and I don’t want this to be too long.

Now, bare with me, it’s been a minute since my last rewatch but hear me out:

I think the last time we see Jinx is season 2 episode 4. Everything, and I do mean everything after she realizes she’s fighting Vander is Powder.

Do I think Jinx is gone? No. I just think she realized she doesn’t have to protect Powder anymore.

And I think there are two scenes that support this idea.

Season 2 episode 8, when Vi goes to break her out of prison and convince her sister to fight.

Vi pointedly calls her “Jinx”. Like a person trying to show they’re learning. I’ve seen this very thing myself as a system. Someone gets used to a new alter(in this case, Jinx) fronting, that they accidentally call another alter(in this case, Powder) by the wrong name.

She goes on to say “maybe we can rewrite your story, just like you rewrote Zaun’s.”

She’s saying “we can erase Powder, Jinx is all that matters, right?”

And, from an outside perspective, that’s not only a fair thing to say, but honestly super cute of her as a sister. I’ve seen people reading Jinx as a trans allegory, ESPECIALLY season 1 Jinx, and if it were, this would be a super great thing for Vi to say. But it’s not. At least, not by this point in season 2. If we do want to look at it as a gender allegory, then it works really well as a genderfluid allegory. But that’s not what I’m talking about.

No, Vi says the wrong thing here. She makes it clear she views her sister as a singular entity. Either Powder or Jinx. The issue is, especially at this point in the story, she’s not. And that’s not even me being like “I’m gonna state my personal headcanon/analysis as fact.” That’s just true. Schnee on YouTube does a much better job of explaining the dichotomy between the two identities in his “How EKKO Redefines Time” video that I 100% recommend(this video is actually what got me thinking about Jinx/Powder as a system).

The other scene, is Ekko trying to convince her to help. Ekko says two things here that are important. First, he says “Pow- Jinx.”

He doesn’t view them as a singular entity.

To the trans allegory thing for a moment, this is a really good line if you wanna read Jinx that way, because almost every single trans person who’s changed their name has likely heard “Deadna- Name” at least once(substitute for appropriate names of course). And it’s cute that Ekko corrects himself if that’s how you’re choosing to view it.

But it’s this line that gives her pause.

Ekko then goes on to say “no matter what happened in the past, it’s never too late to build something new.”

He’s not saying to erase the past. To erase Powder. He’s saying to move on from the past. To accept that Powder and Jinx are both present.

That is what convinces her to fight. Ekko telling her “it doesn’t matter, Jinx, Powder, whoever you are, whoever you choose to be, it’s not too late for you.”

Am I little biased when I claim Ekko is the only reason Jinx fights? Maybe a little, TimeBomb are one of my favourite ships in Arcane(though post-season 2 I stumbled upon LightCannon and I think they might be my fav Jinx ship now). But I don’t think that matters.

Do I think the writers intended Jinx to have DID? Definitely not.

Do I think the writers intended Jinx to be an allegory for DID? Maybe.

But it’s fun to analyze, and read representation in characters that wasn’t necessarily intended.

But, yeah, Jinx/Powder is now a system in my headcanon and you can’t convince me otherwise because it’s a headcanon and I can do what I want in my headcanons.

[phoenixinthefiles]

I’m bored, AND have writer’s block so here’s some info on the Batfamily-Reality-TV show-No Capes AU that exist solely in my head (the name is long I know)

Bruce adopted Dick the same way he did in canon but Jason’s adoption story changed a bit.

Jason met Bruce when he was about five when he tried to steal a toy and ran into crime alley to get away from the shopkeeper. Bruce paid for the toy and helped him look for his mom and the rest was history.

When Catherine died, it had already been established that Jason would move in with Bruce should said situation transpire. So at 8 years old, Jason became a Wayne (not in name)

Talia and Bruce were dating throughout that time and they married a little before Jason was officially adopted m. (Dick did not approve)

2 years later the adorable heir to Gotham’s throne was welcomed into the world

2 years after THAT Dick and Bruce had their canon falling out and Dick left to LA (or jump city, it’s undecided)

A year later Bruce and Talia called it quits, the media were shocked, everybody wanted to know the scandal behind the separation of Gotham’s it couple.

Then tragedy struck, Jason had been reunited with his birth mother but she owed money to some very unforgiving gangsters. Sheila didn’t make it but after dying for 2 minutes, Jason pulled through. (Heart stopped not dying but yk)

He was in a coma for six months. During which time a certain Timothy Jackson Drake was placed into the emergency custody of Bruce Wayne.

Dick and Kory were living in New York when these things happened (DickKory forever) and Dick spent a lot of time either at the hospital or helping Tim acclimate.

Talia took Damian for a year as per her and Bruce’s flimsy custody agreement, and they spent time in Europe (maybe not idk yet)

Jason woke up and began a long period of recovery which put strain on his relationship with Bruce and Tim.

Cass popped up during this time as well (still haven’t figured out how) and Jason was very un-receptive to TWO new siblings.

So was Damian

Jason is released from the hospital and struggles to cope with all the changes to his body and the world around him, not to mention he missed out on a year of school.

Bruce and Talia come to a more firm agreement considering Ra’s is still who he is in this AU and Talia’s loyalties are spilt.

Fast forward two years and the reality show begins.

Dick is 24 and has been single for two years (don’t ask) he and Bruce have reconciled and even gotten to the point of joking about their estrangement, well Dick has. He lives in Bludhaven and works as a gymnastics coach for the underprivileged kids in the area.

Jason is 19 and a freshman at Princeton (I think) he still lives at home, and he’s an English major. He’s not dating anyone but Damian is suspicious of his relationship status.

Cass is 18, and (yes I’m going to go there) a ballerina at New Jersey Ballet (planning on a cooler name). She also lives at home and she spends most of her time dancing or making Damian and Tim dance with her. She knows they actually love it

Tim is 15, he’s either skateboarding or trying to convince Bruce to let him hop state lines and hang out with his YJ friends. Young Justice is actually the name of their garage band but it’s just for fun.

Damian is 8, nearly 9. His first year of in-person school is starting and he is not thrilled. Bruce only let him skip to the fourth grade because his birthday is late even though he can compete with eight graders. He really wants his parents to get back together but he recognizes that they probably won’t be reconciling considering they don’t even mention the divorce around him.

And…that’s it. Whenever I daydream about this AU I always just daydream up episodes and scenes

[starkenobi]

Demonic Domination | MASTERLIST

masterlist

Sumary: Y/N doesn't classify herself as a vigilante or, as people on the internet say, an antihero. No, she's just an occult detective with a fucking amnesia trying to create a new life beyond her secret mutant status. At first, she really tried to keep a normal civilian life, but it's difficult when you're rescued from a dark place by a man dressed as a mummy ninja calling himself Moon Knight. So, anyway, working as an occult detective makes her travel around the world, and it's cool because it gives her a lot of stories... Until her feet touch New York's ground. It's all downhill from there.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader; Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: +18 romance; angst; fluff; smut; violence; torture; gore; cursing; pseudo harem; not following 100% mcu events; feelings. English isn't my first language, so please be kind. chapters have their own warnings, too, for safety.

MAIN STORY CHAPTERS (coming january)

1] Lo Hecho Esta Hecho | on a rainy night, y/n is rescued by moon knight, and for a while, london becomes her home. but no one can really escape fate, not when your former lover is death herself.

2] Nuns on Cocaine | maybe traveling around the world solving cases and dealing with cryptids isn't that bad, unfortunately someone decided that was a great idea to play around with the occult and scientific shit, now y/n needs to clean some superheroes' mess.

3] Boss Bitch | y/n isn't one to be intimidated. yes, her memory is shit and she can't really explain her knowledge, but she knows how things go. she can deal with vigilantes, their work similar to hers, there's no glamour or riches. but fuck superheroes and their super shit, y'know? even if they're hot and gorgeous as fuck.

4] Voulez-Vous? | there's an expectation in the air, a tension that's not only about want or need. of course, there's a fricking bomb and a targed on her back. if only she could remember why. at least she has the devil on her side.

5] Seal It With a Kiss | a crush, a casual fling, a passionate night, a you're made for me, a can't lose you now, a maybe im already falling in love. but y/n will deny it till the end. she's not going soft. she'll lie through her teeth, but a promise is a promise, even if you don't say the words out loud.

6] Murder On The Dance Floor | she should have seen it coming. of course, nothing is that simple. she's not jealous of their past, but she can't ignore the feeling of trying to keep up with them. she's stuck in the middle. now isn't fun anymore.

7] People Disappear Here | she knows every one of them has a terrible past (and ghosts), but this chaotic dirty nightmare is hers, so fuck it. she's going swinging it like the devil. maybe it's time to finally be the boring grown-up.

8] No Good Deed Goes Unpunished | her past officially came like a wrecking ball, nowhere to run or hide. with her memories back, she wishes everything was different. and then there's the most important question: how much does a life cost? she doesn't know, she can't fucking die.

EXTRAS:

moodboards: y/n | natasha romanoff | bucky barnes | matt murdock

characters list: moon knight boys; tony stark; clint barton; steve rogers; frank castle; wade wilson; bruce banner; logan; kate bishop; yelena belova; maria hill; fury; thor; scott lang; wanda maximoff; pepper potts; peter parker; stephen strange.

[batskye27]

Alrighty!! Lets see!

Last song: The Song With Five Names ~ Will Wood

Favorite color: Purple all the way!!!

Last book: i don't read much and finished fewer but probably Good Omens (or my own writing if that counts)

Last movie: Sonic 3 The Hedgehog

Last show: The Dragon Prince

Sweet/spicy/savoury: all of them, but if i had to choose sweet

Relationship: i'm not sharing that <3

Last thing i searched: i searched up Deepl (translating site) but before that i was searching up the mouthwash bottles from Mouthwashing

Current obsession: a lot, though mostly a new story ive been trying to write :]

Looking forward to: a lot, mostly hanging out with friends and family for the holidays

I'm not doing tags, feel free to add yourself into the mix. Thats always fun.

Thanks @paranoid-radio for tagging me :D

Ten People I’d Like to Get to Know Better

tagged by: @orphiclovers

last song: It’s all been Christmas retail crap or if you count the radio on the drive home playing Avril Lavigne

fav color: this pale seafoam green for things or white for clothes

last book: Eclipse by Wilder (poetry)

last movie: Deadpool & Wolverine

last show: N/A

sweet/spicy/savory: sweet and savory 

relationship status: 4 people proposed to me this year. 1 meant it fr 🥹 (engaged irl) otherwise I have a harem on AO3 going.

last thing i googled: how big is a wintermelon?

current obsession: cooking and Infinity Nikki

looking forward to: I’m planning a road trip with the girls later this week!!

Tagging: @auuwmk, @ssunfish, @ajhaijma, @stoneclaw, @quiteboared, @kiwiandmint, @dgeneralacc, @rex44201, @readingdreaming4951, @thottykunikida