#whether the consequences of his actions is something he really wants or if he Wants Something Else

[meglosthegreat]

So... everyone pretty much hated Veilguard's "secret ending", right? Beyond speculation about the Executors themselves, I haven't exactly seen anyone excited about its presence, and for that matter, haven't seen many people talking about it at all.

The closest way I can describe my initial reaction to it was an immediate, visceral disgust. I think I remember uttering at my screen something along the lines of "Fuck off! What the fuck?! Are you fucking kidding me???" and ever since then I've wanted to put into words exactly why it made me feel that way.

For the 88% of you (according to Steam achievement statistics) who didn't see this ending due to not picking up three very specific codex entries by complete chance, you can watch it here. In short, the clip depicts a mysterious voice who sounds suspiciously like Matt Mercer talking about how a group of shadowy figures has "balanced, guided, and whispered" over scenes of villains from the previous DA games, implying that these shadowy figures have been at least partially responsible for all of the bad things happening in Thedas, towards some unknown nefarious purpose.

Now obviously, this sucks. This is hamfisted, unimaginative writing that simultaneously retcons and re-contextualizes elements from DA's past that absolutely no one thought needed further explanation, as well as being exactly the kind of irritating sequel-bait tactics that people have largely grown tired of these days. But why does it suck so much? Why did I feel such palpable distaste for this scene?

For starters, it simply reeks of entitlement, and a lack of respect towards Bioware's own past games. Remember those villains you loved and thought were compelling? Well, their own personal, very complex and thought-out motivations were really just the Executors whispering in their ears the whole time! Loghain making a difficult and calculated decision at great personal cost for a greater good he truly believed in? Executors. Bartrand succumbing to his own greed to the point that he betrays his only family and devolves into a tragic husk of himself? Executors. Corypheus and the Magisters breaching the Golden fucking City??? Executors.

Ignore the infuriating lore ramifications for a second and consider: what do all of these things have in common? They're all instances of complex character motivation; of people in this world doing things for their own reasons that ended up having massive ramifications. In short, they're not events that can be explained easily in terms of black and white morality. And from what we've seen in Veilguard, the current dev team has a serious inability to work with any story elements that do not have absolute moral clarity: the Venatori and the Antaam are Evil. The Shadow Dragons and the Crows are Good. Any nuance; any potential questioning of this duality is quickly explained away or snuffed out.

And that's exactly what they're trying to do, retroactively, with the rest of the series. Having a hard time deciding whether Loghain was right or wrong? Well, worry not, the Executors are Evil and if they were guiding him the whole time, then what he did must have been Evil too! Grappling with how the plot of DA2 was about the inevitable tragedy of a series of oppressive systems reaching their natural breaking point? Well, wrestle no further, for if the Executors were involved then Meredith and Bartrand must've been Evil, no question! What the Magisters did was definitely Not Great, and what do you know, there were consequences for it that they and the whole world very much did pay for. But if the Executors were behind it all, then it was someone else's fault, some Evil power reaching in and making them do what they did, rather than their actions being the result of a horrific series of power abuses done by actual people.

Which leads me to where my initial disgust comes in. Because in a world which has always had core themes of power and its many abuses, actions that have consequences, and the idea that there are no true higher beings; every horrible thing that has ever been done was done by people, the simple act of putting shadowy figures behind key moments in history completely debases and neuters all of those themes. The whole point of Dragon Age as a series up until this point has been to illustrate the complex relationships people and societies have with power, choice, and morality. To remove that link - to place an external force between those characters and their choices - is to rob the series of any meaning whatsoever.

There is a staggering difference between the messaging of a game that tells you ordinary people are to blame for society's wrongs and a game that tells you a secret shadowy faction of evil forces are to blame for them. The former invites thought about one's own society; it has the potential to be uncomfortable and difficult to reconcile with. The latter assures its audience of the fantasy it is couched in. It gives the audience a boogeyman to be angry at, and in so doing deflects any potential for introspection. And that, I think, is the real point of the scene in question.

In a time where our media has become inundated with bland, unchallenging liberal politics, the idea of "cozy" stories have become a growing trend. These types of stories often sport a broad rejection of complicated themes, painful emotions, and nuance, preferring instead to provide a "safe" place to escape to. And with that "safe" space comes a directive not to engage in critical thinking about a work, and not to draw any message from that work and apply it to the real world. Yet this is exactly where Bioware seems to be heading nowadays.

Veilguard has already been faced with heavy criticism about playing things overly safe; removing anything that might be potentially uncomfortable for the player. And the end credits scene is no different. Don't think about things too hard, it whispers to you seductively, in Matt Mercer's soothingly Evil voice. See? The Bad Guys were behind everything, all along.

[hellooobees]

I'm so impressed by the writing of Thamepo just in general but this is specifically about something I love about the writing around Thame and Po growing closer.

So in the first episode, the time that Po was hired to photograph Mars at an event is brought up three times right? First when Po is interviewing for the job at ONER and embellishes the truth about that event. Second when Thame reveals that he remembers Po from that event and has evidence that proves Po lied about not being a fan/sasaeng. And third when Po convinces Thame that he's not a fan In secret and Thame in turn reveals that he remembers Po out of everyone there because Po did something kind for a young fan and it stood out to him. @thebroccolination has written this fantastic breakdown on the layered writing of the first episode around that scene.

In the third episode, we see Thame and Po exchanging phone numbers three times. @btwinlines points out how every successive instance is growing more personal from Thame entering his phone number into Po's phone because they need to be in touch for their plan, to Thame being worried about Po when he's with Jun and finding he has no way to contact him, to Thame memorising Po's number because he doesn't want to risk losing it again.

At this point, I wondered about the number three showing up again and again in relation to Thame and Po and whether there was something similar in episode two as well, as it wasn't something I noticed immediately on first watch as I did with ep 1 and 3. And at least in my opinion there is? It's in Thame's interview for the documentary.

First we open with the staff at the company try to manufacture a meaningful moment for Thame and the rest of Mars, with fake polaroids, a script for exactly what Thame needs to say, even the gifts that Thame will present to them as goodbye. However, none of the other members show up and the interview falls through. The next day they try again, this time with just Thame in front of the camera till Po interrupts him, pointing out his contradictory actions between obediently following the script to a T and the very thoughtful gifts that Thame himself brought for Mars. Finally, Po turns the camera on again, asking Thame to say what he really wants to say to Mars and all Thame can do is say he's sorry and break down from the grief he's carrying around his decision to leave.

I wanted to see if they keep this theme up with the fourth episode too, and well, kind of. It's definitely not as clean as 1 and 3, but at the beginning of the episode Thame texts Po to which Po replies immediately and asks what's up - which goes unanswered. Po shows up to the club, after finding and putting together the shredded pieces of paper with the song Thame and Jun had asked him to help them find, just to realize it wasn't needed anymore and goes back home wordlessly so as not to intrude on the band's reconciliation with Dylan. At the end of the day while Po is stewing in insecurity over the day's events, he receives a call from Thame who validates his feelings and emphasises he doesn't want miscommunication to come in the middle of any more relationships, not while he's trying to fix the consequences from when he did let it. And they stay on the call for nine and a half hours talking about anything and everything, at the end of which Thame serenades Po with the song he said he likes when he wakes up.

Thamepo is very clearly made for TV in the way every episode has an individual arc to it along with the overarching arc of the show itself, but that little detail of Thame and Po's relationship was so endearing to me. I might be wrong here but it's reminiscent of the three act structure of storytelling to me? It sort of makes sense to me for each example to think of the three parts of it as the set up, the confrontation, and the resolution, if that makes sense? I don't know if this similar structure will show up in the following episodes as well and while I don't think it's likely I'll definitely keep an eye out.

I don't know, I just like the writing in this show a lot. Miscommunication is the crux of the plot, that's what causes the break down between Mars and what is weaponised by the CEO of ONER to convince Thame that leaving is the best decision. And I adore that communication then takes centre stage in not just bringing the band back together but also the romance. I love that their first few meetings dealt with Thame and Po both projecting on each other and then details being revealed that made them think differently. I love the way Thame asks for Po's help to bring the other members back to Mars and what convinces Thame to stay is a silent gesture of offering him the second sandwich as a juxtaposition to the CEO convincing Thame to leave by misrepresenting details about the other members. I love that what we've seen of Thame and Po building their relationship so far has been deliberate attempts to open a line of communication and then learning about every small and mundane detail about each other. Yeah, that's all, I just love this show a whole lot already.

[pistol-grippump]

->

Taking it upon myself to actually research into the columbine case has taught me that I really see myself in Dylan. Alas, many people do, but something about him tells me his sadness is my sadness. Something so endearing about the way he felt and how he visualized what he felt that is so strange. It constantly feels like I am the only one who feels this specific type of sad and alone, though I understand it feels like that about many things.

Seeing myself in someone like Dylan Is quite scary, I'd say? I would never go through with things he did, but I can't say the case doesn't have an influence. In total time, I have probably spent more than 7 hours in the last couple days crying and wanting nothing more than to be gone; to have an escape. I don't agree with Dylan and Eric's actions. Of Course, I can find a way to understand but I can admire their suicidal tendencies. I can admire the confidence to have actually taken their own lives.

Of Course though, it was a mix of not wanting to deal with their consequences as well as finding it as the perfect moment, yeah? They had already ruined their lives, he felt as though as Life wasn't worth living. I just want to know if it was fulfilling to him? To Eric? I want to know whether or not it had happened all exactly as they wanted.

It's ashame nobody will know now.

I don't think I could have prepared myself for the recent emptiness I've felt, not so much of a want to have been in Dylan's presence but just so desperate to escape. Maybe it is insensitive but can you blame me for wishing it was me?

Me who they shot? I wouldn't have to do it myself, that's more than enough. And alas, we'd both be dead together after all. A feeling of peace. A chance to genuinely solely understand their thought process.

As someone who is still fairly tame about true crime yet have an insane boundary problem about every case I get infatuated with, I get worried my words will just be seen as surface level fangirling to any of the cases I cling to. And of course this is cringe as well, but I always feel like I have a special sort of understanding towards these people? Not like a, 'i can fix him' way but in a, if I were them, I would illute to the same things.

Obviously their actions are horrible (that goes without saying) but I kind of wish the average person took time to understand that everyone is troubled. I don't believe 'good' people exist in the world. Yes, you can do good acts and you can make good impact, but there are no good people. Perfection isn't possible and I truly feel that the only way to be a good person would be to be perfect.

Everyone is evil. Everyone has faults and hopefully it eats at everyone. I feel like everyone on this planet should feel a sense of hopelessness to an extent; you don't know what it's like to be dead. You don't know if your actions here have genuine consequences when you're dead and gone. You don't know anything, neither do I. Neither did Eric and Dylan, neither did anyone who did similar acts. Nobody here knows anything. Nobody knows anything about anything and I wish we as a whole could accept that.

It bleeds into religion for me. I have never had faith or anything despite being brought up Christian. It was one of those things that have always just been fantasy to me. The concept of the Bible is so warped, inconsistent, unrealistic. It doesn't seem justifiable under any circumstance to me, good for anyone who can see it in the light but I don't think I could ever think that. There is something so false about any concept of any god or afterlife.

It's frustrating though because I know I don't truly think that. I think there is some sort of after life, whether it's reincarnation or infinite nothingness for those who died. I just don't think my - or anyones - actions right now have any impact when it's all said and done.

[bamsara]

I dont know if it was intentional but I love that Narinder when he sees Lamb throwing up he turns gentle and pushes their wool and ears back so they dont get stained with vomit and for some reason it reminded me of how when Nari was throwing up too after the nightmare he had when they were on route to fight Leshy, Lambert helped him with camellias for the nausea.

Ahh, parallels. I think.

IM SO GLAD YOU POINTED THAT OUT allow me to ramble for just a moment.

Narinder was trapped in the Afterlife for over 1000 years, with little social skills and plagued by wishing for vengeance and his only company being two kittens who become disciples under his rule. He has terrible social skills, if not lacking them entirely.

(I would argue that Aym and Baal also have horrific nonexistent social skills, so those three cat's can't really help each other communicate properly to anyone else outside themselves.)

It can be argued that since The One Who Waits had other vessels to pass time and try to kill /annoy his siblings before the prophesized Lamb arrival, that he would have developed them a little bit more, but I would argue that the power balance would have been oodles more severe since the vessels weren't the promised one. He didn't need them, so if they no longer were of service or disobeyed him, he got rid of them. Whether just sending them out or killing them, any how.

Lamb, however, knows they are the last Lamb, the prophesized liberator of The One Who Waits, and therefore his only option. They knew that they were his only reasonable way out of there (whether they asked for it or not) so they were oodles more comfortable than how a professional relationship would have been.

So they asked questions, bothered him, played and ran around him. Complained and vented to him. Yapped and yapped. What is he gonna do? Kill them? Find a new vessel? He can't. "You're as trapped into this prophecy as much as I am, so let's be friends"

Example parts from Chapter 3:

The power balance equalizes because Lamb did not see his presence a God, but rather a fellow prisoner and victim of fate. Rude and demanding, but in the same chains as they were. 'My lord' was simply formalities at first.

This puts Narinder / The One Who Waits in social situations he hasn't been in (or hardly been in) in over a thousand years, and frankly, he had no idea how to navigate them:

Example from Chapter 5:

The God of Death has not needed to comfort or 'be there' for someone in a long, long time. The Lamb's presence is what forces him to try, even if his first attempt aren't perfect. So in that same chapter, he'll ask them a question to distract them. Conversation. Like how they do it.

While I won't post a screenshot of everytime this happens in written format (not including the dreams/memories/flashbacks that haven't been posted yet)-

The One Who Waits is pushed outside of his bubble when it comes to socializing in a way that isn't just 'God-to-Lowly-Vessal' format. He has to talk to them like a person, because he's being talked to like a person, not a god on a pedestal.

Obviously after the final battle and betrayal (to both of them, otherwise known as the Grand Miscommunication) this means nothing for a while as tempers are still high and feelings are hurt. But overtime, this returns, and can show in small ways (ways that may not seem like comfort but is certainly an attempt) like just in Chapter 18:

Trying to bring them an 'offering' (breakfast) mirroring other times the Lamb has done the same for him:

Crudely offering to replace something they are upset at losing/later offering reassurance abet in a curt way:

And what you mentioned: earlier when the Lamb is throwing up, narration shows they're having trouble with keeping their wool, cloak, bell, ect all back at the same time. He can see that. He has a mental boiling pot explosion over the fact that helping them is even a want that he has after the denial crisis he's experiencing where the only answer a minute ago seemed like he needed to kill them, and he chose comfort.

It is intentional. Narinder is learning how to show care, and allowing himself to show care. Slowly, and not perfect, but learning.

[ahqkas]

“MILLION DOLLAR MAN — bruce wayne.

PAIRING! bruce wayne 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! bruce met you through a dating app (his sons’ doing, really) and the temptation to invite you over for christmas is getting harder to resist WORD COUNT! 3.6k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, bruce is literally down bad for reader in this one, unedited + lmk if found! NOTES! for nat & based on this req. , header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE AVOIDED RELATIONSHIPS LIKE A SOLDIER DODGING BULLETS, each attempt adding yet another layer to the armor he wore daily. He didn’t need them, the women, or so he told himself. They entered his life easily — at his own charity galas, where one pretty bird thought she could get a kiss from him by the end of the night. Female admirers who ate up his charming smiles and sharp eyes seemed to flock around him at all times. And those countless girls who were lured in by the Wayne name, the status, the wealth.

And Bruce gave them the attention they craved from him.

The women served their purpose as brief districtions, companions who helped him maintain his public image, but none of them really mattered to him.

They kept the colder side of his bed warm, but never his heart.

It wasn’t that Bruce didn’t want love — some part of him did, but that part was buried under the weight of Batman. Allowing himself to lose the walls around him and find an attachment in a woman wasn't something his alter ego was okay with, not with the way he’d been living. And another part convinced him that his duties as Gotham’s protector, with all his scars and wounds, didn’t make him a possible object for such things. Love and vigilantism didn’t mingle together well.

Maybe that’s why his own sons and personal butler teamed up on him. Batman was a hero to many, but with how much it damaged Bruce’s internal beliefs, it would ruin him soon enough.

It started as something innocent (but it seemed the wolf was clothed in sheep’s wool): Dick, his oldest, had teased him about his non-existent love life during a training session in the Batcave.

The large space was full with flickering lights coming from the monitors and grunts from the fighting men. Sweat filled the air, masculine and strong, but that only indicated to the hard work they were doing. Training wasn’t easy, they liked to train with the maximum intensity ( it was kinda needed, too ) and it showed. From their damp hair and glistening skin to the rippling muscles underneath their clothes.

“You know, Bruce,” his son started when he blocked yet another strike coming from the man in question. A puff of air left his mouth upon the attack. Not fair. “for someone who spends his nights saving people, you sure are terrible at saving yourself from eternal loneliness.”

Bruce delivered another jab, this one directed straight at Dick’s weak point. “Not now, Dick.”

But his son was nothing if not persistent and he always got what he wanted, whether it was with or without serious consequences. “I’m serious. When was the last time you went on a date? And don’t try to tell me you had one on your arm during the last charity event. That doesn’t count.”

Both of them fully knew Bruce’s arm candies were way more interested in his name and money than in his heart and soul. The truth made his jaw muscles tighten at the realization.

“My personal life is irrelevant to my work.”

Dick took the opportunity and circled the older man like a predator catching the prey’s scent of blood. A sweet weakness, that one. He’d be stupid if he didn’t take the chance. “Is it though? I mean, sure, you’re great at taking down supervillains and brooding on top of high rooftops, but even Batman needs a little action sometimes. The different kind of action, of course. Or are you planning to spend the rest of your life married to the job?”

Bruce swiped his right leg toward Dick’s shins, trying to take him down like he was the said supervillain but the acrobat jumped right on time, avoiding Bruce’s attempt with a grin on his face.

He landed on his feet and crossed his arms at his chest, leaning the weight of his body against one leg. The playfulness disappeared from both his voice and expression and instead, seriousness graced him whole. “Seriously, Bruce, even Alfred’s worried. He brought it up the other day while we were decorating the tree. Something about how the manor feels colder than usual this year.”

“The heating system is fine.”

With Jason gone, it was the truth. His second son had this strange relationship with all the members of the family. Off and on. Off and on. No one truly knew where they stood in Jason’s eyes but he made the effort and showed up on Christmas Eve the other year upon receiving Alfred’s invitation.

Bruce doubted he would show up two years in a row.

“That’s not what he meant, and you know it,” Dick pressed, and effectively added more salt into Bruce’s wounds. It stung and it fucking hurt. As much as Batman was ruthless, it didn’t mean the man under the mask was resistant against the pain his life brought. “You’re not getting any younger, B. It wouldn’t kill you to let someone in. And I don’t mean us. Try to meet someone who isn’t friendly with a criminal record.”

The older man could only stare helplessly at the other. Those words his son, partner, spoke were loud, crawling their way into his mind and much to his dismay, his heart as well.

Before he could voice his dismissal, a younger voice called out. It was familiar in a way family tended to be.

“You are wasting your breath, Grayson. Father has neither the time nor the inclination to entertain your nonsense,” his youngest son declared into the space of Batcave, his voice ringing out and echoing every single word. The blood son, Damian Wayne.

The father didn’t even flinch, just let out a deep sigh through his nose. It was as usual between those two, always bickering from Damian’s side and teasing remarks from Dick’s. You could mistake the blood running through their system as one, if not for the physical differences. They were brothers in all but red.

“Damian,” Dick started in that lecturing tone he’d always seemed to use with the younger boy, “when was the last time you saw Bruce here even try to have a social life?”

Damian rolled his eyes, the green disappearing behind his eyelids before they reappeared, rougher than they were. “The so called ‘social life’ you’re referring to consists of women who barely last through dinner. Why would he waste his energy on distractions when Gotham requires his full attention?”

“Because even Batman needs a break. You know, normal human things? Like dating, smiling, not dying alone in this cave surrounded by bats?”

“If Father is content with his choices, who are you to meddle? Unlike you, he does not require constant companionship to validate his existence.”

“Ouch,” Dick put his palm against his heart in a mocking manner, feigning hurt as his lips formed a pout. “You’ve got a real gift for the Christmas spirit, don’t you?”

The younger son narrowed his eyes at his supposed brother. The constant bickering was almost normal in their lives so far, and nothing seemed to be changing any time soon. He had to learn how to live with the excuse of a brother, although he started to form a light liking towards him. He wasn’t so bad. “I only speak the truth,” his green irises flicked to Bruce. “Though it is peculiar he tolerates your interference. Perhaps even Father has realized how pathetic his current romantic life—or lack thereof—appears.”

The object of the conversation let out another sigh, this one loud enough for the boys to hear. Their gazes snapped toward Bruce with accusingly great speed.

“If you two are done debating my personal life, there’s actual work to be done.”

He missed the glance his oldest threw at the youngest. He missed the look filled with amusement and a plan that was already brewing. He missed the nod they gave each other, although Dick’s was more pronounced and determined.

The next few hours were spent creating Bruce’s dating app profile.

The final result was the definition of real sugar daddy vibes. Every detail had been debated (mostly argued over though) and thought through, so to say the boys were satisfied with it was an understatement. The oldest prided in the work, saying how it would get so many women to reply which would eventually lead to the right one. The middle one Dick and Damian (only Dick) dragged into the activity beamed up once the profile was set while the youngest scoffed and scowled during the entire process.

During the next evening, the boys showed the main man his new account.

Bruce was left speechless upon seeing the bright screen flash before his eyes. Not a single word was muttered as he watched his boys showing him the app and explaining how exactly it worked (he’d never used a dating app before all this so bear with him). The main photo on the profile was a candid one of him, the one Cass had taken on a sunny day in the Wayne Manor gardern. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the long sleeves rolled up past his elbows as the muscles of his forearms bulged up. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips, the sunlight casting shadows across his sharp features and Bruce had to admit they chose a good photo.

It wasn’t intimidating, but it wasn’t exactly friendly as well. The good old middle.

The boys knew he was convinced to give it a try when he waved them off with a deep sigh slipping past his lips.

The game was on.

It was past the midnight when he lied in his bed, propped against one too many pillows and wondered why he was still scrolling through the damned dating app. It was late—far past the time he should have been out on patrol, but Red Hood and Red Robin got it covered for him.

Bruce wasn’t looking for anything specific, really. If he were honest, this whole situation felt out of place for him. Swiping through the profiles was more like an exercise for his thumb.

First was Madison K. Her profile opened with flashy colors that immediately put Bruce into a doubtful situation. Were all these women going to be like this? Madison was beautiful and her looks screamed professionalism: her makeup was done flawlessly, adorning her bright eyes and full lips. She looked like she belonged on a cover for a fashion magazine, not a dating app. Her bio made his thumb swipe left.

‘Manifesting my best life. CEO of my own happiness. Looking for someone who’s successful, ambitious, and knows how to treat me like a queen.’

The next account’s bio made him grimace and swipe left once again.

‘Looking for someone who can keep me living the dream. If you’re successful, generous, and ready to spoil me, let’s talk.”

At this point, Bruce was ready to delete the dating app his boys set up and enjoy the rest of his night. Most of the profiles he swiped through were simply bland to him. Nothing felt genuine. Right. It was safe to say he was losing the hope Dick had set in him earlier in the evening. Until he stumbled upon your profile.

The account stood out among the others—simple, elegant, but with a certain amount of warmth that seemed genuine. Bruce’s heart skipped a beat once he scrolled further and came across your photo. The picture showed you in a cozy cafe, the one Steph adored so much for their cinnamon roll buns. A soft smile danced on your pretty face, highlighting the curve of your cheeks as you looked off to the side. You captured Bruce in a way the others didn’t.

You looked like a fawn surrounded by hungry wolves. You were admirable while they were craving wealth and status. Two different sides of a coin, but Bruce had already known his pick.

Your bio was sincere, a sight the man liked to see.

‘I enjoy the little moments — finding beauty in the simple things. I believe in kindness, and I’m looking for someone who values honesty and a deep conversation.’

His mind flicked briefly toward the countless hours he spends in the cave, surrounded by work and worries. You seemed like the one who could understand the balance between the quiet and the loud, someone who could exist in both of his worlds without losing that spark you held in your gaze.

Before he could overthink it, Bruce clicked on the “message” button.

Once the screen of your non-existent chat appeared, his mind went blank and all he was capable of was to stare mindlessly at the phone. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no words came to him. What did one say to someone like you? He wasn’t used to thinking ahead when it came to women. This was a new field. And he couldn’t screw up.

Finally, his fingers moved before his mind could think of whatever embarrassing thing it was capable of.

> Hey, I noticed your profile and wanted to reach out. There’s something about your words that struck a chord with me. I’d like to know more about you.

And that’s how the two of you started your relationship, or whatever you could call it. Neither of you voiced it as official, but that was okay. He hadn’t expected to feel this way, not so soon. And yet it came at him, crashing like a large wave of emotions every time you were around. You changed everything for him.

Your conversations became the highlight of his days.

His ears perked up every single time without a fail when he heard the soft ‘ping!’ of the notification, already convinced it was from you (and it 98 percent was). Whether it was early in the morning before he started working in the chaotic Wayne Enterprises or late at night when the Batcave was quiet and felt at peace. You were always there with him.

You were thoughtful, generous, and refreshingly kind. You asked him questions that no one else dared to: what he wanted from life, what made him happy, what kept him awake at night. You didn’t flinch at his silence. You didn’t push him to give answers he wasn’t ready to share. You understood him in a way only a few people did.

Piece by piece, he let you into his world — not that part filled with constant danger and threats, but that part that longed for something real.

By the time Christmas approached, Bruce was sure of one thing: he wanted you in his life.

The holiday was just around the corner, filling the air with joy and gratitude as it always did. The snow was blanketing the streets with white powder, and although many people were complaining about the cold, it had its charm.

Christmas had always been about family for Bruce, about gathering around the tree and full table with the people who mattered most. It was lonely at first, after the death of his parents, but over the years, Alfred had made it work. The table was always full of tasty food the kids adored and presents Bruce knew would make them more than happy were neatly waiting for them every morning after Christmas Eve.

This year though, Bruce wanted it to be a little different. He wanted you to be part of it.

You might actually fit into the chaos of the Wayne family — the teasing and playful banters between you, Dick, and Tim would be absolute gold to hear. You probably even could handle Damian’s wit which was something his father would like to see. He could picture you smiling, holding back your own remarks. The idea of you sitting beside him at the long dining table, sharing their traditions, made his chest feel warm in a way he wasn’t used to.

That night, he sent you a message.

> Are you free on Christmas Eve?

Your response came in quickly, as it always did. Bruce’s heart thumped against the bones of his ribs.

> I am. Why?

He hesitated for a bit, overthinking his decision.

> I’d like you to join me for dinner. It’s a family thing but I’d really like for you to be there.

> Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

> You wouldn’t be intruding.

Bruce could picture the light frown between your brows and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. You often did it unconsciously, never knowing how pretty you looked this way. But even as he pictured your face, a part of him was growing more nervous about the situation. Would you agree to an event this serious? Spend Christmas with him. And his family. Or were you coming up with excuses right now? He wouldn’t blame you.

> Then I’d love to come.

His heart skipped a beat and that night, Bruce went to bed feeling a little lighter than he usually did.

Snow blanketed the long driveway leading up to Wayne Manor and for once, Bruce wasn’t thinking about the pressure of Batman or the chaos the boys would definitely stir up tonight. His attention was entirely focused on the one making your way towards him. He stood just outside the grand entrance, dressed in a dark, perfectly tailored suit that fit him like a glove. The soft crunch of tires on the white powder alerted him to your arrival, and as your car pulled up, Bruce started to feel the nervousness. He adjusted his tie with a single hand.

When you stepped out, his breath caught.

You were breathtakingly beautiful. Dressed in an inky black that hugged your figure in all the right places, the fabric shimmered under the outdoor lights of the mansion. The smile you gave him when your eyes met melted all the nerves that had been harboring in his system. He was finally calm and composed, for what seemed like the first time in the evening.

“You’re early,” Bruce pointed out softly when you walked up the stairs to meet him in front of the door, and his eyes sparkled with little stars at the sight of you. How did he get so lucky? “You look stunning, by the way.”

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting. And thank you. You clean up well, too, Bruce.”

Your gaze held a playful edge in it as you accepted his hand, locking your palm around his bulging biceps and squeezing warmly. The touch added the missing piece of the puzzle Bruce was trying to solve while his cheeks warmed a rosy pink under your influence without any hesitation. The gesture felt natural, like it always belonged there.

The two of you approached the doors of the manor in a shared silence, although it didn’t feel a bit awkward. You took a moment to take in the place. It was like something out of your childhood dreams — tall, arched windows glowing with the soft light of a dozen garlands lining the entryway. The faint hum of holiday music and the occasional sound of laughter echoed through the manor.

It was Bruce’s home.

“Do you always go this big for Christmas?” you voiced a question that's been sitting on your mind since the moment you saw the large Christmas tree from the entryway to Bruce’s living room. Decorated with lots of ornaments, it looked lovely, accompanied by a heap of presents.

“Alfred insists,” admitting with a soft chuckle, Bruce rubbed the nape of his neck as he led you deeper into his home. “And the boys like the holidays. I want them to have the best.”

The scent of pine and cinnamon enveloped your senses the further you moved. The sounds grew louder, too. You awe made him feel lighter somehow. The dining room at Wayne Manor was nothing short of spectacular this night, with the long mahogany table adorned with a dozen of flickering candles and plates of food that looked like it belonged in a holiday spread for a cookbook.

You were sitting beside Bruce (he kind of insisted anyway), your hand occasionally brushing against his. He helped you settle into the chair which earned a teasing glance from Dick. Speaking of his oldest son, he was sitting across from you with an easy grin that told you some questions would come your way sooner or later. Tim was at Dick’s right, while Damian occupied the chair from the other side of his father.

The evening was more than successful in your opinion. Steph asked you about your favorite literature, while Tim quizzed you on trivia about Gotham (which you surprisingly got all right). Damian, after much persistence from Dick, shared a story about his latest art project, though he kept glancing at you as if trying to gauge your reaction.

Through it all, Bruce remained by your side.

When the night finally came to an end, and everyone drifted to their own space of the manor, Bruce walked you to the entrance with a gentle hand against the small of your back.

“Thank you,” his gaze met yours as he handed you your coat, effortlessly helping you slip your arms into the sleeves. “For coming tonight. For putting up with them.”

You gifted him with the most precious kind of a present; your smile, smaller hands reaching up to adjust the collar of his dark suit. “Of course. They’re wonderful, Bruce. I enjoyed myself tonight.”

For a man who othen found himself at loss for words when it came to talking in emotions, Bruce found himself smiling softly with his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Because for the first time, Christmas didn’t feel like an obligation. It felt like a new beginning.

[letsbangts]

answer your phone || jjk

⤷ summary: when the consequences of his actions come calling

⟡ sequel to mutt ⟡

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 12.8k+ (I couldn’t stop 😳)

18+ // mdni

⟶ genre: angst, smut, fluff, friends with benefits au

⟶ content: fuckboy!jk, tattooartist!jk, jk is on a downward spiral (it's what he deserves), oc is struggling as well, taehyung is the shoulder to lean on everyone deserves

⟶ warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content: kissing/making out, groping, protected sex, nipple play, oral (m. & f. receiving), markings (hickeys & other bruising), a bit of dirty talk & praising, fingering, teasing, multiple orgasms…I think that’s it?

↬ a/n: HERE IT IS MUTT PT 2! firstly I want to say thank you for all the love & support i received on pt 1 it truly meant so much to me ♡ OKAY so you all wanted #justiceforoc and to see jk grovel so the tables have definitely turned on him ;). angel xoxo

↬ a/n2: p.s the flashbacks are indicated by the arrows (《,》)

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Answer your phone I've got to talk to you

Jungkook is sitting on his couch with a girl's lips all over his neck and her hands all over his body, but his eyes are fixed on his cell phone lying on the coffee table. Instead of focusing on how her tongue is licking at his throat or how her hands grope him through his pants, he can only focus on you.

He stares at the phone that won't ring, at least not with you on the other end. It has been over a month since you stormed out of his place. At first, he left you alone and didn't try to reach out because he thought you needed to cool off. Jungkook has dealt with this hot and cold shit with others before; he knows they’ll be back eventually, whether he makes any effort or not. And it’s so much easier not to. But he has been calling you for weeks now with no success.

This past month, Jungkook has been with a handful of women, hoping to feel something, but he hasn't. Not even with the aid of an empty bottle or a joint— and he's certainly had plenty of both— nothing makes him feel as good as you do. Whether it's getting his dick sucked by any of the random women he’s taken into the bathroom of a club or bending one over in the backseat of his car in the parking lot of the tattoo studio, getting on top of someone else to distract him from you hasn’t helped as he thought it would.

Even though the girl with him right now is attractive, with a nice body and a skilful set of hands, he is trapped in his thoughts. He’s annoyed that her lips don't send tingles down his body like yours do, that her hands aren't as soft as your own and that she doesn't have her fingers running through his hair the way you do.

He misses you.

He pries the girl's hands off him and pushes her back as he lets out a deep sigh. She looks at him with a confused expression.

Jungkook licks his lips and, without looking at her, says, "I think we better stop; you should go."

The girl attempts a seductive smile as she moves to unbuckle his belt.

"Stop? We haven't even started anything. Come on, I'll make you feel good, big boy."

Jungkook rips her hands off of his belt, he rubs his hands over his face in frustration.

"Look, I'm just not feeling this, okay?" he says exasperated.

The girl's face drops and her whole demeanour changes.

"Are you fucking serious, Jungkook? Not feeling this? Can you not get it up or something? Is your dick really that pathetic?" she snarks, her eyes scanning him up and down.

He gives her a pointed look with his pierced eyebrow raised as he rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek and chuckles bitterly. He shakes his head, sniffs, and sits up straighter.

"Okay, listen here, Emilia—"

"It's Emily!"

"Whatever the fuck your name is, I don't care. I tried to be nice about this, but if you want to provoke me, that's fine. You're right; I can't get it up because I can't even pretend for a goddamn moment that you turn me on, not even in the slightest, so get your ass out of my fucking house," he sneers through clenched teeth.

Right after Jungkook finished speaking, he felt a sting on his cheek. The response to his words was a sharp slap to his face and, once again, another upset girl storming out of his place, slamming the door behind her.

Jungkook shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose. A metallic taste begins to form in his mouth; he must have bitten the inside of his cheek on impact. He rises to his feet and walks to the bathroom. He leans over the sink, gripping the porcelain edge as he spits out blood. Jungkook stares at himself in the mirror and runs a hand over his reddened cheek, marked with a fresh cut from the girl's ring-clad hand.

He isn't bothered that the girl is upset because he doesn't care about her. Jungkook couldn't care less about whether he was an asshole to Emma; all he cares about is you and how he needs to talk to you.

Answer your phone Give me a minute, please Has your heart turned to stone? Have you no sympathy?

He has texted and called you an embarrassing number of times, waiting with every ring to see if you'd pick up so that he could hear your sweet voice. And he does, but only when he's met with your voicemail — "Hey, this is Y/N. Sorry, I missed your call. Please leave me a message, and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks!"— which is a lie because you never do. Still, he leaves voice messages, hoping you will listen to them and call him back. He hopes that with every call, his persistence will make you curious enough to answer and talk to him—even if only for a minute.

Jungkook turns on the tap and washes his face; the cool water momentarily clears his head. However, once he raises his head and looks at his reflection again, his fringe drips with water, droplets falling onto his shirt. He is overwhelmed by the thought of you all over again.

He knows you can't be too mad at him because you haven't blocked him—not his number or on social media. This is how he knows you're not that hung up on what happened since he sees you posting, whether casually going out for coffee or all dressed up to go party with your friends; regardless, in all of them, you look stunningly beautiful.

This makes him miss you even more and makes him unsure if blocking him might have been better since Jungkook has seen some guys in your posts and noticed how they sometimes have an arm around you or how you lean in a little bit too close to them for his liking. He wonders if they are just friends; even if they are, he's sure they want to be more. Have they tried anything with you? Are you dressing up like that for one of those guys? Are you trying to move on with one of them? Is that the reason you're ignoring him?

The thought alone of you with someone else drives him crazy, but having to see you with some guy who probably doesn't even know you that well makes him furious. Jungkook knows you better than any one of those chumps could, yet they get to be around you while he is stuck looking at your angelic face beside some happy idiot through a screen like a loser.

Jungkook bets none of those guys know that you hum while getting ready, don't know that when you're in the car while it's raining you turn off the radio to listen to it fall, don't know that you can't sleep wearing pants or socks, don't know that you hate drinking room temperature water, don't know that you do this adorable little happy dance when you really like the food you're eating, and bets they don't know that the guy who put that tattoo on your hip has fucked you every way under the sun.

Shit. He misses you.

Misses how you would thread your fingers through his hair, scratching softly at his scalp while he had his head in your lap as you both watched TV, misses how you would listen to him complain about a client while you fiddled with his earring but with such attentive eyes that showed you were paying attention, misses how you would scrunch your nose and blush when he made a flirty comment, misses how you would somehow take the pressure of the day off him simply by hugging him.

Why won't you answer? Why won't you give him a proper chance to explain himself and apologize? Did all your feelings for him vanish; has your heart just turned to stone? Don't you see how hard he's trying? Don't you have any sympathy for him?

Upon realizing that his teeth are grinding together and his fists are clenched so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, he pulls himself together, relaxing all his muscles, and heads back to the living room with determination.

Jungkook grabs his phone off the coffee table before sitting on his couch. With his elbows resting on his knees, he goes to his call log filled with your name and presses it, lifting the phone to his ear as he listens to the ringing for the umpteenth time.

I know I fucked this up I know I let you down But I've suffered long enough And you're still not around

He bites his nails while tapping his foot anxiously; he concentrates on what seems like endless ringing. His eyes glance at the clock. You should be home from work by this time, he thinks. When your voice finally comes through—voicemail, of course. Jungkook didn't honestly expect anything else.  

He leans back, tips his head back against the backrest, and shuts his eyes for a second, trying to keep up with the rapid pace of his thoughts, and when he hears the beep of the answering machine, all those thoughts spill out of his mouth.

I know I don't deserve it But please have some mercy 'Cause I just might die if you don't

Y/N POV

You hold your buzzing phone in your hand and watch as the screen dims once it's finished, only to light up a few seconds later with a notification about a voicemail.

You hit on the notification and bring your phone to your ear, you bite your lip when you hear the deep voice of the man you've been keeping at bay.

"Hey Y/N, I don't know if you even listen to my messages anymore or if you ever did, but I'm not going to give up. I'm sorry, I know I fucked up and I know I let you down, but—fuck, Y/N, I miss you so goddamn much. It feels like I've been suffering for so long like there is this knife that's buried in my chest and keeps twisting the more time you're not around. I know I don't deserve it, but please have some mercy and answer me. Fucking shout at me and curse me out. Answer me and don't say anything— stay silent if you want, but just answer me, please. I need to hear your voice, or see you, something—anything, because this is beginning to feel like a slow, painful death."

You sigh as you lower the phone from your ear, swallowing the lump in your throat. You've never heard his voice so shaky; you've never experienced Jungkook being anything but confident.

Jungkook has been persistent in reaching out, and you have told yourself you must be just as persistent in your resolve not to answer. This past month has been devoid of any trace of him, but just because he hurt you doesn't mean all your feelings for him have vanished. It's been hard on you; many times your thumb has hovered over the accept button when he called, but by the time you contemplate it, the call has already gone to voicemail.

Regarding that night, you have calmed down significantly since leaving his place feeling angry and upset. You have thought it over countless times, and although you still don't condone what he did, you genuinely believe he didn't act with ill intent. You just expected more from him; he always told you how it was different with you, that you meant more to him than anyone else. Only to then treat you like any other one of his insignificant flings. It made you question if you were so whipped for him that you failed to see he viewed you as a girl easy to fool. But you know Jungkook is more than just that one night; he may have disappointed you, but there have been many times he hasn't.

You have ignored every attempt he made to communicate with you; yet, you haven't blocked him on anything—it feels too final. Instead, you have been keeping yourself occupied. When you're not working, you've been going out with friends, reminding yourself of who you were before Jungkook. Of course, you didn't completely ignore your friends when he came into your life, but he did take up a big part of your free time.

They knew about him as well; while they may not have known all the dirty details of your relationship, they did know that you spent a lot of time with him and enjoyed doing so. And if you were happy, so were they. So when you replied in the group chat that you'd be joining them for a night out, they were shocked but didn't ask any questions. They were excited to have the gang together and didn't hesitate to ensure you had a good time.

Usually, you'd spend your weekends with Jungkook since you both were off then. You would be tangled in his sheets, a sweaty mess put in various positions inducing multiple orgasms. You had forgotten the thrill of being in the middle of a crowded dance floor, sweat rolling down your body from the heat of so many bodies so close together. Throwing back countless shots, you and your friends could barely dance in your heels and tight dresses without stumbling over.

You'd also forgotten how much male attention you receive when going out and mingling with new people. Although there are still many creeps around—for whom you had to get your guy friends to come to your rescue—sometimes there would be someone who seemed harmless enough to flirt with, but then you would remember a certain doe-eyed, dimpled-smiled man and would turn them down.

One time, when you had used your friend Taehyung as an escape from an otherwise seemingly good guy, pulling him behind you and wrapping his arms around your dancing figure for protection, he asked you why you didn't go for it. That was when you opened up and told him the full story about you and Jungkook. Taehyung has been a caring and understanding person for as long as you have known him, and he empathized with you when you explained your feelings and complicated situationship.

Since that night, he has been your confidant, your shoulder to lean on. He has witnessed firsthand how this month has not been easy for you, no matter how much you tried to forget about your fuck buddy/friend. After hearing about the detailed story of the last night you spent with Jungkook, he has been vocal about how you deserve someone who wants to be with only you and that you are more than enough. Yet, he never judges you and understands that you know a different side of Jungkook.

You know the Jungkook who moved all the mugs to the lowest shelf in his cupboard so that you could reach them, the Jungkook who sings loudly in the shower, the Jungkook who when he first falls asleep starts twitching with a cute, peaceful smile on his face.

You miss him.

You've passed the tattoo studio on your way home, stared at that flashing neon-red sign, and thought how all it would take to see him is for you to step through that door; if you just walked in and talked to him, maybe everything could turn around in your favour. You both could patch things up and be happy. You could be together.

You've looked through that window from afar, hoping to catch sight of the pierced, tattoo-covered man, reminiscing about when you were on the other side with him.

✧ ──── 《《 ──── ✧

The bell of his studio dings, signalling your entry. At the counter stands the pierced, tattoo-covered man you came for. He looks up from the book with his scheduled appointments, and when his eyes land on you, he flashes you that big, dimpled smile, the corners of his tired eyes crinkling in delight.

"Hey, baby. I wasn't expecting you. What are you doing here so late?"  

He drops his pen onto the book and rounds the counter, meeting you halfway. His lips press against yours in a quick kiss as his hands settle on your waist while yours find their way around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

"I could ask you the same thing. When you texted that you were still here, I thought I would stop by to see you," you shrug.

Jungkook sighs and gives you a tight-lipped smile, lifting a hand to brush through his hair.

"My last client of the day cancelled on me, so I decided to stay back and work on some designs. I sent the others home, and I guess the time got away from me," he scratches the back of his neck.

"Mmm, handsome and hard-working, what a catch," you smile and tiptoe to give his cheek a peck.

"I don't want to disturb you, though. Should I go?" you continue, rubbing your hands up and down his chest.

Jungkook shakes his head as he removes your hands from his chest.

"No, stay. I could use your presence; it has been a stressful day."

He walks over to the studio's entrance, flips the open sign, locks the door, and pulls down the blinds, now closing for the day. Lastly, he switches off the main lights, leaving only the multiple neon lights on the walls in various designs and colours to keep you from darkness.

He takes one of your hands into his, interlocking your fingers, and leads you through the dimly lit room to behind the counter, and to the desk you've seen him work at many times. He rolls out his chair and sits at his desk, looks up at you, and pats his thigh, and you comply with his silent request. You sit, his muscular thighs between your legs. He puts one arm around you, holding your waist to keep you steady, while his other arm rests on your thigh, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Once in his lap, you look at the glance over the wooden surface covered with scattered papers, all filled with his artwork. Some designs are drawn with intricate detail, while others are simple sketches. But they are all equally impressive—sometimes you forget how talented Jungkook is.

"Oh my gosh, Kook! These are amazing!" you gasp, picking up one of the sheets and turning your head to look at him.

He takes the paper from your hands and places it back on the desk. You see the tips of his ears turning red.

"They're alright," he shrugs; you notice he seems sullen.

You turn in his hold, your body sideways on his lap, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"What has got you so stressed out?" you ask, pushing back his fringe before moving your hand to fiddle with his earring.

Jungkook closes his eyes at the feel of your touch, exhaling a breath in relief. He leans forward, rests his forehead on your shoulder and hugs you tight.

"I just—that client, that was the fifth cancellation this month. I don't understand why; we had several consultations, and I listened to all his requests. I showed him so many different design options that I had sketched for him. I don't know maybe I—maybe I lost my touch or something."

"Hey, now that's not true; this stuff is unbelievable, Kook." you gesture at the multiple illustrations on his desk. "And you have been completely booked up with back-to-back appointments every day, I have never seen you so busy."

You tug on his hair and he whines, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and pulling you closer.

"Plus, do you think I would let a guy who's lost his touch anywhere near my skin with even a drop of ink?" you tease, your lips brushing his ear.

"That was months ago," he mumbles into your neck, and you feel the coolness of his lip rings against your skin.

“Yeah, and I would still let you be the one to do it."

Jungkook looks up at you as he argues, “Not like I’m going to let anyone touch you besides me.”  

You boop his nose with your own, which makes him chuckle.

“I’m serious, Jungkook. You are passionate about your job, and it shows in your artwork. You are such a talented artist, people see your pieces online and come from all different places just to get inked by you. You. Because you are fucking Jeon Jungkook,” you poke at his chest.

“Okay, okay,” he smiles softly as he brings your hand to his lips, kissing it gently. “How do you always know what to say to calm me down?”

Your eyes sparkle at his question, and you smile gently as you hold his cheek, your thumb caressing the soft skin while pressing your forehead to his. “I know you. Everything I said is simply the truth.”  

Jungkook’s mouth parts slightly in surprise, but his gaze softens. You weren’t sure due to the low lighting in the room, but his cheeks seemed to flush as well. 

"Thank you, baby,” he says almost shyly, and you couldn’t believe this was the same man who flirts with you so shamelessly at every chance he gets, nor the same man who has had you screaming in pleasure several times a night.

There are many sides to Jungkook, and you adored all of them.

You wrap your arms around his torso, embracing him tightly, burying your face in his neck, and he hugs your waist just as firmly, kissing your forehead.

You both sit like that for a while, and your breathing becomes in sync as if your bodies had become one.

“I-I'm…I'm glad you came here,” he clears his throat as his arms tighten around your waist, basking in your warmth and comfort.

Jungkook has vented to you about work before, but this time, it feels different. You’ve never seen him like this.

"I'm here anytime you need to talk, Kook," you reassure.

“Well, that's good to know…” He said with a nervous smile. “But I meant…I'm glad you came here that day to get your tattoo, that you came into my life.”

Your body freezes momentarily at his words, but soon a fire ignites in your heart and spreads throughout you. You are filled with pride and relief that he feels comfortable and trusts you enough to share his personal feelings so openly.

"I'm glad I did too," you whisper, "I meant what I said though, I'm here if you ever need to talk."

“Okay,” he whispers, “Okay. But on one condition.”

"What?"

He tilts his head to look down at you, you look up at him through your lashes.

"You have to come and hold me like this when I do."

"Deal," you giggle.

"Seal it with a kiss," he leans down slightly.

You lift your head and meet his lips in an emotional kiss which soon turned more heated as your tongues mingled together.

You move down his body, kneeling between his thighs. Your hands grip his belt, and Jungkook pants lightly, his anticipation and need high. You unbuckle it and unbutton his jeans effortlessly, then quickly pull them down far enough for his bulge to be exposed. As expected, he is already hard for you. The effect you have on him is always intense. You glance up at the heavy-breathing man above you, eyes hooded and bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You shift your focus from his bulge to his t-shirt, gripping it by the hem and pulling it up. When he realizes what you want, he assists you; he sits up a little, grabbing the back of the collar and pulling it over his head with one hand, fully exposing his toned core. Just like that, his shirt is off, and he tosses it to the floor to be found later.  

Your hands create goosebumps across his exposed skin as they brush against his lower abdomen when you grab the hem of his boxers and pull them down. His erection springs up and rests against his abdomen, impatient for your touch.

At the sight of his big, veiny dick, you unconsciously drag your tongue along your upper lip. You quickly remove his jeans and boxers, along with your shirt, leaving you in your bra, panties, and skirt.

Your hand wraps around his shaft, and your thumb swipes across his head, smoothing the precum over his length to make it feel better. You stroke him gently a couple of times before leaning down and placing a soft kiss against the tip of his cock. Jungkook hisses at the sensation, and he throws his head back.

You slowly begin to move your hand up and down his cock; you enjoy building him up gradually and prolonging his release. A knowing look flashes across his eyes when he discovers what you are doing. He chuckles, and then you swirl your tongue around his head, causing the smile to fall from his face immediately as his hand grips the sides of the chair.

“D-don’t tease,” he breathes heavily.

Your lips curve up into a barely noticeable smile at his reaction. You lick him from the base of his length to the top, swirling your tongue around his head once more before slowly pushing him between your lips and going down on him, your tongue pressing against his hardness as you take him in.

His abs clench at the contact, and a moan slips past his lips, “Fuck, yeah." 

You glimpse up at him; his eyes are closed tightly, and sweat is forming on his golden skin, the exact way you like seeing him when you suck him off. The fact that you could affect him like that without even doing very much boosts you with confidence.

You start moving back up slowly, your hand wrapping around the base of his shaft and squeezing him gently, earning a whimper. You repeat your movements with eagerness.

You love giving him head, hearing his moans of pleasure, having him fall apart at your touch.

After a few rougher squeezes from your hand, you suck harder and take as much of him as you can into your mouth, using your hand to pump the rest of him that you can’t fit.

"Feel good?" you ask the obvious question.

He whines and raises his hand to your hair, pushing his fingers through the locks and out of your face. “That feels so good," he rasps.

You hum around his dick; you look up and find him already gazing down at you, his eyes dark with lust—an image you will carry with you to your grave.

You flutter your eyelashes at him and take him even deeper, fully engulfing his dick, his tip hitting the back of your throat each time you bob your head. 

Jungkook gulps and his eyes roll back in his head. You feel his hands tangle in your hair, pulling slightly as his hips thrust up into your mouth on instinct.

You go back to slowly moving your hand up and down his length, and it lasts for a few seconds until his hands are over yours, stopping you. Before you can question him, he takes your head in a tight hold and forces you to move faster, his large hands enveloping your head. He gently pushes down against your head until his entire cock is in your mouth and holds you there, your nose touching his pelvis. Your eyes water, but you power through, breathing deeply through your nose.

The man appears to be in pure bliss. His thighs are shaking, and his eyes are blinking rapidly, trying hard to stay open. His mouth is agape as he releases breathy moans, his chest heaving up and down.

“Your mouth feels so good, baby, fuck,” he growls.

When he is satisfied, he pulls you up off of his cock and removes his hands. You pop back up and let go of his throbbing length, a string of saliva briefly connecting your mouth to his tip. You gasp for air with tears streaming down your face, and you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Always such a good girl for me, aren't you?” he says, lifting your chin and wiping your wet cheeks.

You nod with a sniff, your eyes still glassy.

Jungkook suddenly reaches forward to grab your hips and pulls you onto his lap. You quickly straddle him, your hands pressing against his chest as you grind softly against his dick. His lips crash into yours in a messy kiss; it lasts for a little while before he pulls away and looks straight at you, “You know I love having your mouth around me, baby, but I need to be inside you." 

Then he’s capturing your lips once more, his arms encircling your legs around his waist as he does so. His hands rest under your thighs, effortlessly supporting your weight. You’re so immersed in how seamlessly his lips meld with yours that you don’t notice you both have shifted from the chair until you feel him place you on the desk.

Jungkook glides his hands up your thighs, only to have them wound around your waist, pulling you against him with force. He stands between your legs, with your pussy pressed directly against his member.

You grind your soaked panties against him, causing his lips to detach from yours, letting a groan escape from his lips as he tilts his head back, exposing his neck in the process. You trail small, wet kisses from the side of his face, along his jawline, and down his neck, before stopping at the junction between his neck and collarbone. You suck harshly on his skin, earning yourself a few moans from Jungkook, and you feel his chest vibrate.

Jungkook takes hold of your neck, his hand on your throat and kisses you intensely, attempting to express the longing he has felt for you since the moment you walked into the studio. His tongue swipes against your lower lip asking for entrance, and you don’t hesitate to let him in. As his tongue dances with yours, you feel his hands tug at your skirt before he pulls it down, pausing to allow you to lift off the desk enough for him to remove it along with your bra, tossing them to join the rest of the clothes on the floor.

The sight of your naked torso distracts him from doing anything else, his gaze lingers on your breasts before it shifts to your hip where your tattoo is. Jungkook’s hand instinctively glides over the skin adorned with black ink.

“It's still my favourite piece I've ever done,” Jungkook mutters before he plants kisses along your sternum and then finally on your breasts. Before his lips can explore further, you cup his face and bring it back to yours, and you both smile into the kiss. He gathers you in his arms and moves toward the tattoo chair behind him.

Jungkook carefully lowers you onto the reclined chair, and you watch as he stands at the edge of it, removing the black jeans that are already halfway down his legs. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind that you’re watching every movement of his; you bite your lip and smirk, and it seems to turn him on even further, which urges him to discard his pants and join you quickly.

He crawls over you, supporting his weight with the arms on either side of your head. He gives you a quick kiss on the lips before he begins his exploration of your body, using his lips. Open-mouthed kisses are placed along your neck, across the curve of your breasts, and back up to your neck, where he decides to leave his mark by sucking on the skin at the base of your neck. The noises that escape your lips only motivate him to suck even more aggressively, creating even more red marks as he moves down your body.

“Kook, do something,” and as if he had been waiting for those words, Jungkook starts to move lower on your body until he’s hovering over your clothed pussy. You watch as his nose skims over the wet patch on your underwear. His hands smooth over your legs before they settle onto your hips, which he doesn’t leave unmarked as he sucks on the skin above your tattoo. Your hips rise, yet his stronghold stops you from squirming. “Kook, I need you.”

Upon hearing your desperate begging, Jungkook presses a finger to your covered heat, skillfully finding the bundle of nerves that have you writhing beneath his touch. He begins to rub between your legs, with the sole barrier to full contact being the delicate piece of cloth. He keeps teasing you through your panties, relishing the sounds you make as you squirm beneath him. Deciding that you’ve had enough of the torture, Jungkook hooks a finger under the waistband of your panties before pulling them down, revealing your glistening cunt. He locks eyes with you, and you observe from above as he slips a finger inside you, his stare unwavering. As he pumps his finger inside you, your head tilts back, and you let out a string of moans.

“You’re so tight, baby,” Jungkook comments before inserting another finger inside you, gentle kisses along the inside of your thighs as your hands weave into his hair. You’re surprised when you feel him sucking on your clit; the extra stimulation makes you tremble against his thrusting fingers.

“Mmm, and so wet. Your pussy tastes so good, so fucking sweet.”

“Oh my god, K-kook,” your back arches off the bed as he adds in a third finger while keeping his mouth on your sex. He smiles triumphantly upon hearing you repeat his name like a mantra, and he sets out to ensure you’re moaning it even more loudly. You bite your bottom lip, trying to suppress your desperate moans, but it's in vain when Jungkook curls his fingers within you, hitting a specific spot that causes you to clutch his hair tightly and cry out his name shamelessly.

Jungkook relentlessly drives into you, his fingers curled to target the spot that makes you moan his name, while his mouth remains attached to your clit, teeth lightly tugging and grazing the bud before his lips form a tight seal around it. You feel the pressure in your lower stomach intensify with every thrust of Jungkook's fingers and every flick of his tongue, all leading up to your orgasm.

Jungkook watches as the wave of ecstasy flows through your body, and he swears you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, with the way your face contorts in ecstasy. His fingers are still thrusting inside, helping you ride out your high, but the oversensitivity soon becomes too much, and you have to push him away.

As you catch your breath, you take a moment to notice what a handsome man Jungkook truly is. Complementing his defined biceps and strong thighs were his abs, impeccably shaped, and you observe as the stunning man above you licks the remnants of you from his fingers. The sight has you wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down so that his chest meets yours. Jungkook smirks at your action before he hungrily attacks your lips with his glistening ones, letting you taste yourself as you recover from your climax.

“Take this off,” you mumble against his lips, your foot at his lower back attempting to push his boxers down. He quickly complies with your request, shedding the dark grey boxers before leaning down to his jeans on the floor to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket and get a condom. He rips open the foil with his teeth, being careful not to tear the condom in the process, before rolling it down his length. He hovers over you again, keeping most of his weight off of you with the support of his arms.

Jungkook kisses at your navel before trailing upward towards your breasts. His mouth envelops one of your nipples, sucking on it, he takes his time sucking one breast while kneading the other one before he switches. Your hands hold onto his biceps, gliding over his skin as he prepares your body for another climax. When he’s satisfied with the marks he’s left on your two mounds, he places one more kiss against your lips before looking into your eyes.

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Mhm, Kook. Want you so bad.”

And so Jungkook takes his length and aligns himself at your entrance, the tip of his member almost pushing past your folds. He gives you one last peck on the corner of your mouth before his member sinks into your pussy, making you wince at the stretch of your walls. He pushes himself until he is buried deep within you, causing you to whimper when you feel his full length inside of you. Jungkook groans loudly as he feels himself being embraced by the warmth and tightness of your wet, velvety walls. He reaches for your hands and lifts them to rest on both sides of your head and interlocks your fingers with his. His forehead meets yours, and both of you share a longing gaze while relishing the moment. Once you've adjusted to his size, you move beneath him, and Jungkook takes it as a signal to begin his ravaging.

He pulls back all the way, leaving only his tip inside of you, before pushing himself balls-deep within you once again. You urge him on with your voice, calling for him to go faster and harder, and he complies by thrusting into you at an astonishing speed. With each thrust of his, Jungkook’s name escapes your lips in moans that fill the studio, along with his panting and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

You feel the warmth of his chest leave yours when he sits up, his hands gripping your waist, pressing his fingernails into your skin. The new position allows him to pull you to meet each of his thrusts, hitting at a new angle that makes you cry out his name. When he starts hitting that same spot that tipped you over the edge earlier, you grab his arms and pull him so that he’s on top of you again. His entire weight is on top of you, but you don’t care, not when his thrusts are paired with his lips on your neck.

You moan loudly, which is followed by your pussy convulsing around his cock, and Jungkook knows that you’re close. Your nails scratch against his broad back, leaving a stinging sensation that only adds to his pleasure. You're sure he’ll have red marks all over his back as if he’s been attacked, but it's a fair trade because he’s marked you plenty with his lips.

Jungkook feels you clenching around him even tighter than before, and he’s slamming his hips against yours, urging you to reach your climax. When Jungkook feels your nails dig deeper into his back, his hand reaches between your two sweaty bodies and draws circles on your clit, which sends you off into euphoria. Your second orgasm of the night hits you harder than the first, and your body would have trembled if it were not for Jungkook’s body in the way—the body that is still connected to yours and continues thrusting into you. Your swollen walls clench so tightly that Jungkook starts chasing his high. He groans loudly against your neck as he shallowly thrusts into you, helping the both of you ride out your orgasms.  

Jungkook sighs in release, unaware of how long he’s been holding his breath. Jungkook detaches himself from you, and you gasp lightly, feeling somewhat empty as the warmth leaves with him. He rolls off of you, and the two of you lie close together, side by side, attempting to regain your breath after the intense exchange. You sense his gaze from the corner of your eye, and when you turn to face him, your eyes meet his round, dark brown ones.

"Come here."

Unsatisfied with just your shoulders touching, Jungkook turns onto his side, and you do the same before the both of you shift closer to each other. His hands rest naturally on your hips as if returning them to their rightful place. No words are exchanged between the two of you, but there is no need to because you find yourself lost in the softness of his brown eyes, and he can’t help but mirror the wide grin that’s plastered on your face. His hand moves to your tattoo, and you observe his expression as his fingers hover over the indelible design on your skin. His eyes hold a sparkle that evokes a certain emotion to wash over you.

“So, do you feel better?” you ask, breaking the silence of the afterglow, but he looks confused at your words, and you find the sight adorable. “You were stressed out...”

“Me? Stressed out? Huh, I don't know what you're talking about.”

You are the one who's confused this time, but not for long, because the realization hits you when you see his mischievous smirk. You punch his arm playfully, and he grins almost too widely, his eyes forming crescents. His hands, which were placing feathery touches on your tattoo, are now tickling your sides, and he’s elated at the sound of your joyful laughter before pulling you against his chest.

Jungkook looks around the studio, the neon lights casting shadows on his face, "I feel good; how could I not? This is a first for me though— fucking at work."

You look up at him with raised brows in surprise, Jungkook smiles down at you and continues.

"You know, I didn't think the next time I had you back in my chair would be like this."

"Oh my gosh," you blush and hide your face in his chest, a little embarrassed but mostly shy at his remark. He laughs, and you feel it rumble through his chest; his hand lifts to pet down the back of your head.

"You can't be shy with me after all that. Every time I'm working on a client now, all I will be thinking about is you beneath me in this chair."

"I can't imagine what the crew would think if they found out what we did," you mumble into his chest with a little laugh.

"They would think I'm a sterilizing expert because there will be no evidence of what happened here," he sits up and gently strokes your ass, and then gives it a pinch, eliciting a gasp from you, "You're in charge of the desk, you little minx; I'll do the chair," he winks at you.

You're left to blush again, swooning as you both get up to remove any trace of the two of you in the studio.

✧ ──── 》》 ──── ✧

You blink away the tears forming in your eyes. Your thumb hovers over his name, considering calling him back just as you hear a knock at your door.

Answer your phone I've got so much to say I'm at my all-time low And it's just too much to take

Jungkook can raise his hands and admits he didn't handle that night as well as he could have, but he is truly sorry. He realizes that even if his intention wasn't to hurt or offend you, what he did wasn't his best moment. As much as he tells you that you are special to him and that what you two have is different—which is true—his actions didn't match his words, and you deserve better than that. Jungkook may not be the perfect gentleman, far from it, but he is better than that, especially when it concerns you.

As the hands of the clock tick away and more time passes, he gets up and begins pacing.

If you listened to his message you would have called by now right?

Jungkook isn't used to this—needing someone. Sure, he has desired certain women, and he always got them, but once the lust faded, he never wanted them to stay; never needed them to stay.

He hasn't always been like this, and he knows where it all began: the fear of giving his all to someone and then losing them, of handing over his heart to another and having them desecrate it.

Jungkook refused to be like his father; he watched him give his mother everything and love her immensely, only for her to run off without regard for him or Jungkook.

He fears emotionally connecting with someone else will end as he has always seen: being left alone and heartbroken.  

Because inevitably love is never simple, nor is it equal in the sacrifice of pouring oneself into another.

He can't imagine what could be worse than letting someone in and loving so wholly only to be left empty because you offered yourself up to someone undeserving.

Jungkook knows how good of a man his father is, and if he could get burned and scarred by love, Jungkook knows he doesn't stand a chance.

And who would willingly walk into a fire?

When people asked him why he didn't get into a serious relationship, he would say, “I like change. Life is too long to commit to one person and too short not to explore your options.”

But that was before he discovered you. Once you fit into his life so perfectly he knew he wouldn’t be able to live without you. He knew he had found that one constant in his life. 

The constant being: Y/L/N Y/N.

What he shared with you has always been simple, and the effort you both put in has always been equal.

Jungkook never believed he would find that kind of connection, one that flows with ease. Now that he has found it, he desires to keep you in his life and wants you to remain a part of him.

He will walk through the flames if you're on the other side.

Jungkook has never been fond of lingering and preferred moving from one thing to the next, one woman to the next. He didn't enjoy being too close; he always kept people at a distance maybe not physically but emotionally. Tattooing has been the only steady thing in his life; he was committed to his craft.

But you broke down his walls, shattered the pattern—you got close. He found the courage to let his guard down. He knows there is nothing to be wary of, no looming feeling that he will be met with disappointment. Everything is easy with you.

His cowardice had him ruling out a love that hadn't happened yet. Maybe he is a fool, but he can't live with regret. He's ready to dive off the deep end. It's draining to always be on the defence, ready to push people away, and he's tired. He wants to settle down and commit to you.

Jungkook can be vulnerable around you; he knows you won't use his weaknesses against him like people have in his past. You don't even view them as things that make him weak just what makes him human, because no one can be perfect. However, he would argue that you seem to be pretty damn close.

He feels most comfortable with you; he trusts you and can be himself. There is no pretence with you; Jungkook likes who he is around you.

Jungkook loves you.

In your eyes, he is the guy who comforted you when he saw how nervous you were while getting your first tattoo. The one who keeps an extra hoodie in his car for you because you are never dressed for the weather. The one who finishes work and picks up takeout for the two of you to eat together. That's the Jungkook you see, the one you know better than anyone else—the one you have wrapped around your precious finger.

You've never asked him to be any different from who he is, despite his shortcomings in many aspects. You never judge him for the life he's leading and never pressure him to change his ways, no matter how flawed. Yet you still never expect the worst from him.

So now, all he fears is that he has accomplished the one thing he dreaded the most, and has destroyed the link holding the two of you together.

Should he go to your place?

Jungkook hasn't gone over because he didn't want to seem overbearing; he wanted to give you your space until you felt ready to talk to him on your terms. Also, if you weren't answering his calls, you most likely wouldn't answer your door either.

But he doesn't want you to think he won't fight for you. He won't lose you without a lack of trying. If Jungkook is anything, he is persistent. He has too much left to say to you and he isn't about to sit here and take this distance any longer. He's willing to do whatever it takes.

As he looks out of his window and stares at the hundreds of lights, he feels a new surge of determination; he is rising from this low point he has sunk into, fed up with wallowing in his self-pity.

He turns and strides to his door, yanking it open with vigour. He sprints down the stairs and rushes outside into the chilly night, heading straight for his car.

Jungkook pulls out of his spot and drives the familiar route to your house, accelerating down the road at the maximum speed permitted by law. In his state of urgency, it seems that all he encounters are red lights and stop signs.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he has to hold himself back from stomping too hard on the gas pedal when the light turns green.

Answer your phone I've got to get to you God, I hope you're alone And someone new isn't next to you

Y/N POV

You gather yourself and halt your wandering thoughts to get up and check who is at your door. You are not expecting anyone, and you told your friends you won't be going out with them tonight. Your excuse was being too tired from work, but honestly, you just were too sad to pretend that you were okay.

Could it be him? He said he wouldn't give up, that he had to see me.

Do you want it to be him? You would be lying to yourself if you said no.

So it's a surprise when you open the door and see Taehyung standing there with his hands in his front pockets, teetering back and forth on his heels.

A part of you is disappointed, not because it's Taehyung but because it's not Jungkook.

"Tae? I said in the group chat that I'm not going out tonight. Didn't you see my message?"

He looks you up and down and barges in, walking past you.

"And didn't you see my message? I said you are going out tonight and I was coming over to pick you up. Why aren't you ready?"

To be fair you were so preoccupied on your phone, listening to Jungkook's message and reminiscing, that you didn't notice any other messages. But when you go to your chats, you see his words are true.

He plops down on your couch, stretching his arm out on the back and gives you an expectant look, his eyes wide and his brows raised.

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? Go get ready," he makes a shooing gesture with his hand and continues.

"The clubs aren't open all night—well, actually they are..." his brows furrow as he looks off into the distance for a brief moment, then catches himself. "But I don't have all night, so let's go!" He demands with a clap of his hands.

"I'm not going out tonight, Tae. I told everyone I'm staying home."

You lie down on the couch next to his seated figure, with your back resting against the armrest.

"Didn't we just go over this?" he points between the two of you. "You are going out; everyone is already at the club. They got a table, and I'm sure Jimin has already downed a shocking amount of shots, so we have to leave soon if we want to catch up."

Taehyung taps your knee twice and then shoves your legs off the couch, bringing you to a sitting position. You take a deep breath and throw your head back, crossing your arms while closing your eyes.

"I don't feel like going out. I want to stay home."

"And do what? Continue to sulk over pretty tattoo boy?"

You open your eyes and turn your head toward him, pouting, "I was not sulking."

He stares at you with a raised brow, filled with doubt.

Rolling your eyes and letting out a sigh, your arms drop to your sides, "I'm just not in the mood, I'll only bring down the vibe."

Taehyung turns his body to face you, a sympathetic expression on his face.

"You're only making this harder for yourself by just sitting around and thinking about him, Y/N. I understand that you like him a lot—I do—but a guy like that isn't worth wasting your life waiting for him."

You look down at your hands in your lap and chip at your nail polish.

"He's been leaving me messages. He tells me how sorry he is and that he misses me. He sounds like he's having a rough time, too. That doesn't erase what he did, I know, but it was just one mistake. He's a good man, Tae. I've always known he wasn't perfect, but everyone has faults, right?"

Taehyung holds your hand and squeezes it, leaning down to meet your gaze. His voice is careful when he speaks.

"People like him always know the right thing to say. If he were such a good guy, he wouldn't have used you the way he did. Yes, everyone has faults, but you can find someone whose faults don't hurt you. It may have been only one mistake, but if he truly cared about you as he claimed, he would have never treated you that way."

Tears form in your eyes and your voice cracks. "It's just—I know him; it sounds pathetic, but he has shown me a side of himself that I know he doesn't show everyone. The real him and that's the Jungkook who has my heart. That's the Jungkook I love. We've experienced so much together, it's difficult to just move on from him."

"If you don't try to move on from him, how can you expect to, babe?"

He's right; you haven't tried. Throughout this entire period of your ignoring him, you have consistently kept Jungkook in your thoughts. Every time you went out with friends, every time a guy tried to flirt with you, and every time you held your phone—Jungkook. When you woke up, when you were at work, and when you went to bed—Jungkook. Even when you heard a knock at your door, as Taehyung did earlier, you hoped it was Jungkook.

Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook.

Your mind and heart were devoted to Jungkook. Everything revolved around him.

Your tears overflow, and you finally break. Taehyung wraps his arms around you, and you cry into his shoulder. He holds you until you calm down, and your sobs turn into sniffles.

You lift your head and wipe your cheeks.

"I'm such a mess, I'm so sorry, Tae. You came out to have a good time, and here you are consoling me. I have probably fucked up your fun night out," you croak out. "I must seem so stupid, all hung up over a guy."

"You haven't ruined anything, and you certainly aren't stupid. I would never think that of you. I know how much of yourself you give to someone important to you. I wish you would give yourself to someone worthy, not someone who takes advantage of you. You are an amazing person, and if Jungkook hasn't realized how lucky he is to have you, then he's the stupid one, Y/N."

"Thank you, Tae. Not just for tonight, but for listening to me go on about Jungkook this past month like a sad, broken record. You stuck by me, have been so caring, and always validated my emotions. I swear I'm the one who's lucky and unworthy of you."

"Nonsense, you know you can depend on me anytime," he says, patting your head and smiling affectionately.

You smile back, glance down, and see his shirt is stained with your tears.

"I ruined your shirt," you sniffle, pinching at the fabric.

Taehyung looks down at it and shrugs, "Hey, I prefer your tears to stain my shirt rather than Jimin's vomit," he jokes to lighten the mood.

You laugh, and he points at your face, his expression bright.

"Aha! There she is! Happy Y/N, I thought I had lost her!" he exclaims.

He turns his head, looking around, arms stretched out as if speaking to a crowd, "Ladies and gentlemen, no need to fear; I have managed to make Y/N laugh."

Taehyung once again proves to be the best friend one could have; you can always count on him to cheer you up and gather the pieces of your broken heart without fail.

"Shut up, Tae. I have neighbours," you giggle, playfully pushing him.

He joins your giggles and returns your playful push, "Well then, go get dressed! If you don't I will run up and down the hallway screaming. I came here to take you out and have fun. Sitting at home alone can't be better than partying with your insanely funny, incredibly handsome best friend. And if that isn't enough, Seokin's dancing is a sure way to lift anyone's spirit."

"Okay, fine," you agree, getting up with a big smile. The image of Seokjin's dancing already boosts your mood.

Making your way to your bedroom, you yell out, "But if anyone comments on my swollen eyes, you'll be dealing with them!"

"I've got your back, babe. Don't worry!"

You can always count on Taehyung.

Tell me, tell me now am I too late Is there somebody new taking my place? Is there somebody's lips on you Where mine used to be, yeah?

Jungkook parks across the street from your building; he sits in his car, pondering whether it's too late to knock at your door. Are you already asleep? Should he have waited until tomorrow? If you answer and open it to find him standing there, will you shut it in his face?

He knows right now he's not your favourite person, but he doesn't believe you would be so cruel as to turn him away at your doorstep.

He rubs his hands down his face and lets out a deep sigh.

How could he let things end up like this?

He ruined something so special, so sacred. Building a relationship so pure and superior doesn't happen to everyone, and he managed to have it hanging by a thread.

Your relationship can't just end because of one mistake—a big mistake, yes, but he believes that what you two have is strong enough to overcome this. The two of you have made so many wonderful, meaningful memories.

Jungkook remembers how good things were before this—before he ruined everything.

✧ ──── 《《 ──── ✧

Jungkook never imagined he would witness such a breathtaking sight: you bare before him, glazed eyes and slightly parted lips, lovely sounds escaping as he traced wet kisses along the nape of your neck, down your throat, over the curves of your breasts, pausing to swirl his tongue over a sensitive bud, drawing out his name from your throat, the same one now decorated with shades of blue and purple.

“Please, Kook,” you beg, pleading with him for more, and he is more than willing to give it to you, knowing he can hardly deny you anything.

He smiles, kissing his way back up to your lips, positioning his body over yours and aligning his hips so he can slide into your warmth with a soft thrust, the wetness coating the inside of your thighs showing how aroused he has made you.

You clutch at his shoulders with a moan, nails digging in and creating crescent shapes with every thrust he makes. Jungkook fucks you slow and deep, hitting every nerve within you, making you unravel before him in no time at all. His lips move slowly against yours, tongues twirling together as your legs wrap tightly around his body, drawing him closer and deeper into you, his sighs of contentment pouring into your mouth.

Jungkook is sure this is what heaven feels like: his hands on you, hips rocking against your own as you devour the sounds escaping each other's lips. You encourage one another until he picks up pace, gazing down at your face, cheeks flushed and lips swollen.

The coil in your stomach tightens, twisting, and is ready to snap. Jungkook is also at his limit, eyes hooded but maintaining eye contact with yours, his forearms supporting his weight on either side of your body.

Overcome with pleasure, the feeling of his skin against your own, united with you in the most intimate way two people can be. The act is sinful but fully infused with the profound bond you both share. What you and Jungkook have cannot be expressed in words, and he does not think the two of you need to articulate what you both understand.

“Come on, baby, cum for me,” he husks, gently nibbling at your jaw.

One of his hands moves to where your bodies meet, flicking his thumb over your clit repeatedly. Then you come undone, the release so intense that his name echoes off every corner of the small bedroom. He continues throughout your orgasm, prolonging it until the sensation of your walls tightening around him brings him to his climax, spilling inside of you with a groan of your name, lips pressed harshly to yours, putting everything he feels into a single kiss.

He pulls away, carefully removes the condom and ties a knot at its end before disposing of it and falling onto the bed, shifting onto his side to look at you. The moonlight streams through the window, illuminating your skin in a radiant glow. Jungkook trails his fingertips along the surface of your arm, moving down until he reaches your hip, pulling you closer to him as you tuck your head into his chest.

Jungkook spots the numerous red crescents on your body already beginning to take on a darker colour — almost as deep as the black ink he used for your tattoo. Jungkook wishes for nothing more than the colour of the marks to be so deep that it will cover you forever.

He holds you close, his thumb brushing over the familiar tattoo on your hip— the everlasting mark that brought you two together. You found each other that day months ago when you walked into his studio and had him ink his design on you, and ever since then, you have been a part of his life. The ink serves as a reminder of the bond between you and Jungkook, etched onto your skin just as you are to him.

“You should let me give you another one."

“What do you think I should get?” you whisper against his chest.

"My name, here," he replies, his inked finger tracing just above the left side of your chest, right over your heart.  

You smile as you push him so that he lies on his back; you move to lie on your stomach between his legs, your chin resting on his chest. His hands come to your back, caressing it up and down.

"Hmm, and you'll get my name here," you lightly run your pointer finger over his left pec.

Jungkook lifts a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, smiles tenderly, and nods while humming in agreement. His fingers linger, skimming your face as his gaze softens. His eyes are filled with adoration as he looks at you.

Jungkook can feel your heartbeat against his stomach; he wonders if you can feel his own under your touch. Both of your hearts are beating rapidly, which he assumes is due to the physical exertion you both just experienced and not from this impassioned moment you two are having.

He can physically feel how much affection there is between you two. He has never felt that before. It's moments like this that make Jungkook feel incredibly fortunate to have you in his life.

"Aren't tattoo artists usually against getting other people's names tattooed?" you tease with a smirk and a raised brow.

Jungkook shrugs with a smirk, his tongue playing with his lip rings, "I live by my own rules."

You roll your eyes, shaking your head, "Oh, what a rebel you are."

Jungkook's hands go to your sides and tickle you with a gentle pinch.

"Kook!" you laugh as you jolt further up his body.

"Kook!" he mocks in a high-pitched voice, imitating you before wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close.

You pout and make a soft 'hmph' sound so insanely cute that Jungkook can't resist the smile spreading across his face; he laughs and then kisses your pouty lips and all over your face. You giggle and lightly tug his necklace with your finger, bringing his mouth to yours for a long, sweet kiss. When you break apart, Jungkook gives one final peck above your left breast.

"I was serious, you know," he murmurs, voice low. He juts his chin lightly to where he last placed his lips.

"Haven't you marked me enough?" you stretch out your neck and gesture at the hickey-covered skin.

"I wanna mark you every way I can, baby," he smiles smugly.

One of your hands plays with the hair at the nape of his neck, and the other plays with the hoop in his ear. You avoid eye contact, keeping your eyes focused on the earring.

"Tattoos are forever, Kook," you say sheepishly.

"You're telling me," Jungkook chuckles, tilting his head toward his right arm covered in a sleeve of tattoos. He turns his head to kiss your wrist and then cups your face with both hands, making you look at him, "Hey, you planning on going somewhere and not telling me?"

You shake your head, his big hands still holding it.

"Hmm, I'm a bit worried now; I need to hear you say it," he squints his eyes, teasing.

"No, I'm not going anywhere," you grin.

Jungkook mirrors your grin and nods, "Good," he pulls your face closer and nudges his nose against yours, "Because I'm not either."

He squishes your cheeks together in his hands, making your lips pucker out.

"It's not easy to find someone this cute," he coos, shaking your head.

You pull your head from his grasp and lightly slap his chest. His hands slide down to your ass and give it a firm squeeze, long fingers digging into the smooth flesh.

"Even harder to find someone equally as sexy,” he whispers in your ear, his teeth grazing lightly. His voice is so deep you feel it vibrate through his body against yours.

"Huh, it can't be too hard, I found you," you quip, poking his cheek.

Jungkook gives your ass a spank, and you gasp as he flips you both over, with you now under his hovering body.

"Why don't I show you just how lucky we both are?" his tone dripping with seduction.

The tip of his nose trails down your neck as his lips ghost over your skin, down to the valley of your breasts. He stops to knead the soft mounds, surging forward to swirl his tongue over one of the hardened nubs before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. He hums in satisfaction. He releases it, giving it a gentle bite, and switches to show the other the same attention.

Once pleased, he continues his trail past your stomach and stops at your pulsing heat. He nestles his head between your legs, his hands grip your thighs and spread you wide open, your already slick folds clench around nothing in anticipation.

Jungkook gives your clit a teasing lick before diving in without hesitation. You whimper when his mouth latches onto you, his wide tongue licking a slow, filthy stripe over your slit, your hands flying into his hair. He groans, his eyes rolling back as he tastes you, his tongue circling your clit and then flicking over it repeatedly before dragging down to press at your entrance. Your hand tightens in his hair as his tongue presses deep into your dripping hole.

“Fuck, Kook,” you whine, grinding harder as your thighs tighten around his head.

He exhales through his nose, eyes crinkling as he smiles into your pussy when you buck your hips against his face. The sequence of sucking, licking, and prodding with his lips and tongue has you both writhing in ecstasy. The wet, sloppy sounds of his lips and tongue working against you fill the room. The intimate night of passion continues until the moon gives way to the sun.

✧ ──── 》》 ──── ✧

Jungkook is pulled out of his memories when he sees the door of the main entrance to your building open. He watches you step out, and his heart nearly leaps out of his chest upon seeing you.

Your short, tight dress hugs your body in all the right places. Your tall, thin high heels complement your legs phenomenally. Your hair cascades down your figure, making you look like an angel. You look gorgeous.

The sight of you would bring any man to his knees. You must be dressed to go out for the night, so he must act now if he doesn't want his drive here to be for nothing. He moves to get out of his car, but just as his hand touches the handle, he sees a man walk out right behind you, and Jungkook freezes.

Jungkook looks closely at the man's face; he's good-looking. He's sure he recognizes him from your posts. He looks like one of the guys you've tagged in your pictures, the ones where he's had his arm around you. The happy idiot. What was it... Taemin? Taejin? Taewoo?

Whoever he is, he extends his arm for you to link with yours, and you do. You're about to step down the stairs when you stop and say something to the man. You have an anxious expression, but whatever you say to the man beside you only brings a fond smile to his face. He responds to you and leans down to kiss your cheek.

The cheek that Jungkook's lips have been on more times than he can count.

And you light up as if he made everything better. You walk down the stairs, arm in arm with the man whom Jungkook worries has taken his place.

Once you step off the last step, you stop once more, unlink your arm, and pull out your phone. The light from the screen shines on your face; you tap your fingers on it for a few seconds before putting it back in your purse. You relink your arms with who Jungkook thinks is the luckiest guy in the world and set off down the street, heading to your destination.

Jungkook feels the wind being knocked out of him. He hadn't even realized he had gotten out of his car. He stands far enough that you don't notice him, but close enough to see you perfectly. To see how you were on the phone he knows is full of his messages and calls—that you are still ignoring.

Tell me, tell me now, what can I do To make it up to you Won't you tell me, please? Tell me, please

All the hope and determination he had when he left his house seemed to have disintegrated. He feels small, much like your figure becomes as you walk further away from him on the arm of another.

Jungkook stares at your back until he loses sight of you as you round the corner. He stands there feeling like he has just been slapped in the face for the second time tonight, but this one stings much more.

What else can he do?

Jungkook doesn't know how to make it up to you, and at this point, he's unsure if he's fighting a losing battle. You seem to be doing just fine without him. It hurts to see you happy when he has been miserable without you.

He needs you to talk to him, to tell him what to do to win you back. What he has to do so he can hear your laugh, smell your scent, and touch your skin. He needs to have you back in his arms, on his lips—in his life.

He tilts his head back, eyes focused on the moon and how it mocks him, shining brightly while he is filled with darkness.

He stands there, disoriented; all he can do is let out a bitter laugh at the irony that he drove all the way here to watch you walk away from him—now and quite possibly forever.

With a sad smile, he is overwhelmed with questions, out of his mind. Why are you two ending? How can you? How can you two end?  

All your memories together overflow out of his perforated heart, he puts his hand over his chest trying to block them and keep them inside, but they escape through his fingers.

Jungkook had you by his side and took you for granted; now he is watching you be cherished by another man while he stands by like a stranger in the night.

He doesn't want to be like this, he doesn't. He hates this, really hates this.

He doesn't believe it would hurt this much even if his heart stopped.

Answer your phone I've got to talk to you I'm out here in the cold Trying to get through to you, oh

Jungkook never envisioned that when he finally loved someone, he would be left alone and heartbroken— not because you decided to run off, not because you were undeserving, but because he pushed you away.  

He took too long to walk through the flames and got burned. He dove off the deep end too late into a pool of emptiness and hit the bottom.

Jungkook stands in the street, the cold air biting at his cheeks, but he can't find the strength to return to his car and drive home. He came here on a mission to talk to you face to face. He hopes that if he stands here long enough, you might walk back around that corner and come straight to him. He hopes you will answer his plea and do something to fix him. Hold him in your arms and tell him that everything will be okay and that the two of you will work together to mend what has been broken.

But you don't, and Jungkook's heart may be beyond repair at this rate.

Jungkook's heart hurts so badly that it's strange that he's even alive.

He should have followed you, chased you blindly even if you were trying to run away from him. He should have yelled at the top of his lungs that there's a hole in his heart that can't be filled and he's dying of pain.

How can he forget you? He doesn't know how to do that.

Like the tattoo he inked on your hip, you are etched in him— an indelible impression on his heart.

You are the only person he wants, your hands to comfort him, your voice to soothe his heart.

He'll have to settle for listening to your voice through the phone, even if it's only your voicemail.

Jungkook digs into his pocket for his phone, unlocks it and with your name already on the screen, presses the call button and waits.

Answer your phone, answer your phone Answer your phone, answer your phone Answer your phone

But he doesn't have to wait for long.

He's immediately met with a voice, but not your sweet voice; instead it's an answering machine.

And now he has been slapped for the third time tonight, so hard that he stands there in the cold, gripping his phone so tightly that his knuckles might bleed. He releases a shaky breath as his eyes fill with tears, and spill over before he knows it.

Jungkook is hit with the reality that you still refuse to talk to him. You have now blocked his number on your phone and blocked him out of your life.

"We are unable to reach the person you are calling at this time. Please try calling back later."

↬ so how do we feel? hope he suffered enough for your liking. let me know what you think! muah! 💋

taglist: @bangtans-momma @celticcountrygal @annafarrr

[pynkfairyheart]

hiii so I saw you said request were open! i really LOVE your writing so yk yk i had to ask but can you do like a story where ony does a being mean to my girlfriend prank but y/n is a reallll crybaby!! BYEE

pairings: onyankopon x sensitive!reader

warnings: smut 18+, ony is a lil mean, reader cries a lil bit

a/n: so sorry it took me this long, life has been....lifing.

What goes around comes around

Actions have consequences, you knew this and yet you still decided to go with your plan.

Setting up your phone you smiled into the camera and started your intro.

“Hi, lovelies. Today we’re gonna do a get ready with me, while I tell you three reasons it's okay to cheat on your boyfriend.” 

Taking a quick glance in the mirror of your vanity, you could see the wheels working overtime in the handsome head that belonged to your boyfriend.

The decision on whether to be calm or tweak out playing tug of war on his brain. 

Settling on the thought that he misheard you he decided to go the calm route.

“Whatchu say, baby?” Deep voice contrasting against the soft tone of Jhene Aiko in the quiet room.

“Hmm?” You feigned innocence as you met his eyes in the mirror.

“I asked, ‘What did you say?’ ” His straightening posture and tone transition to demanding letting you know his patience was thinning by the second.

You were positive this would end with you folded in half, crying from overstimulation as he continuously ripped orgasm after orgasm from you. The thought only excited you and fueled your response. 

With a shrug of your shoulders you hummed a quick ‘I don't know’ and went back to your task.

“The fuck you mean youn know?” He chuckled in disbelief, hand running over his freshly maintained waves before coming down to rub the lower half of his face.

Opting to ignore him, you continued along with your routine, silently. 

“So you just gon ignore me?” Heavy thuds bouncing off the walls as he made his way to stand behind you.

The light pressure applied to your neck, as he tilted your head back having your thighs clench.

Oh, how you wanted to ditch the plan and jump his bones. Brown eyes glaring down into yours, as he tightened his grip. 

Feeling a little risky you decided to do the one thing Ony hates most. Roll your eyes.

“Mmm, aight” He nodded his head. Zero fucks given to the content you were creating as he lifted you from your chair and bent you over.

Never once slowing his assault even after you managed to tell him it was a prank through your moans and cries. 

The new information only encouraging him to go faster as your arousal trickled onto the wood floors while he required you to tell the camera why it wasn't okay to cheat on your boyfriend as he fucked you dumb. 

Usually, your consequences consisted of the audacity being fucked out of you whenever you did something to piss Ony off, but this time he decided to play a prank of his own.

Waiting a week to execute his plan, he chose to carry it out the day you came back from your girl's weekend. 

“You didn't hear me or get my texts?” A small pout forming on your glossy lips as you sat next to him, despite him taking up more than half of the bed. 

“Baby, I'm home” You sang as you wandered around the house looking for him.

Only to find him laid out on the bed as he watched an episode of Judge Mathis.

“I did” Eyes trained on the TV.

“Did something happen?” You gripped his jaw, forcing him to finally look at you.

“Nah, I just don’t feel good.” He removed your hand from his face and moved to the opposite side of the bed. 

“You need me to make you some soup?” Pout returning to your lips as he flinched away when you tried to check his temperature. 

“I’m good. You could leave me alone though.” 

You considered yourself to be very understanding when it came to relationships. Whether it was with family, a coworker, or a client, but more than anything when it came to your relationship with Ony. You understood he needed time to himself just as you did, but the way he said it was just… mean.

The stinging sensation of your eyes was becoming unbearable as the tears pooled in the inner corners of your eyes.

“Oh” Voice cracking despite swallowing the lump that lingered in your throat.

Your tone raised alarms in the man. His own heart gained a pace that matched yours as he saw the tears that began to spill from your eyes. 

“Wait, I'm sorry, ma. I was just playing. C'mere” Hand reaching out to hold you, only to pause when you flinched away from him.

“Mama, it was just a prank. I'm sorry, baby” Panic rising at the influx of tears flowing from your eyes. 

Seeing you cry from any negative emotion always pained him, but knowing he was the reason for the tears falling from your pouty face made him feel as if he failed in life.

“What do you mean it's a prank Onyankopon?” You huffed, the palm of your hand wet as you wiped away your tears. 

“I was just joking. You know how you did that video last week? I was doing something similar. I didn't mean to hurt you, mama. Please believe me” He pleaded.

Maybe it was the immense amount of love you had for him or that it'd be wrong to not forgive him when he put up with all your antics, but you couldn't stay mad at him for too long.

“You really need to work on your pranks. They're terrible” Pink satin pillow softly hitting him along the side of his head. 

“I know, I'm sorry, c'mere” He smiled, happy you were no longer crying and motioned for you to straddle him.

Caring less about the fact you were wearing a dress you crawled over to him, getting comfortable on his lap as you traced the small tattoo of your name behind his ear,

“You know you're gonna have to make it up to me right?”

“Mhm” He mindlessly hummed, eyes trained on your lips before he could no longer resist.

Low groan escaping his chest as he pulls you closer, tongue tracing your bottom lip before diving into your mouth.

“Ony” You whimpered as his lips moved down to your neck, peppering gentle kisses along your skin before sucking on the areas that made you weak. Your body craving for some sort of friction as you ground your hips down onto his.

“I know, mama” He murmured. His fingers sliding up your dress before slipping past the waistband of your panties, digits immediately coming into contact with the slick that was pooling in between your chubby thighs.

“Lil ma already soaked for me” He groaned against your warm skin. A small bruise forming where he was previously sucking. 

“Ony, stop teasing” You whined as he slowly rubbed your clit, the pads of his fingers barely grazing the bud.

With a slight smirk on his lips his fingers gravitated to your entrance, slowly rubbing at the pulsing hole before his fingers worked their way into your walls.

Fingers knuckles deep as he curled them against the soft spongy flesh against your walls. 

“Need you inside now” You pouted, craving something more than the two digits plunging in and out of you.

“Yeah?” He mumbled as he pulled out his fingers. Placing the pads on your tongue as you sucked your arousal off his digits, just as you would do his cock.

Watching you with lust filled eyes he removed his fingers from your mouth, and wrapped a hand around your neck before pulling you in for a nasty kiss. His tongue exploring the path down your throat while you rocked against the growing bulge in his pants.

Pulling away to fumble with the waistband of his pants he pulled down his sweats just enough to release his throbbing cock. Standing tall with his viens prominent and tip leaking a small amount of precum.

“Ride your dick, ma” He pulled your panties to the side rubbing his tip along the slick folds of your puffy pussy, before lining up with your entrance and helping you sink down onto him. Hiss escaping him as your warm walls engulfed him.

“Ony s'so big" You whined in his ear. Allowing him to lift you up and down his cock at a deliciously slow pace, your walls contracting around him at every movement.

“Doing so good fa me.” Two toned lip stuck in between his pearly white teeth as he bucked his hips up to meet your thrust, tip grazing against your cervix.

“Fuck. Faster, daddy, please” You gasped, head resting in his neck as he did all of the work.

Listening to your plea, he picked up his pace, thrusting deeper into you. The sound of your pooling arousal, slapping flesh, and your mixed moans filling the room, atmosphere becoming nastier by the second. 

“I love you so fucking much” His arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you tried to run when he increased his pace.

“Say it back, ma” He grunted. Palm landing on the flesh of your ass.

Tired off your running, his hands gripped your hips and he pulled you off him, flipping you over onto your back before ramming back into you.

“Ohh, shit, Onyyy” You cried, knees near your ears as he pushed your legs back.

"Say it or I'm stopping" He threatened. Eyes focused on your sopping pussy sucking him in, sticky ring of arousal dripping from the base of his cock.

“I- mhmph love you too Ony, so much” Bed creaking under the speed and force of his thrust.

Releasing your legs he leaned down, lips immediately on yours in a sloppy kiss. 

“I'm so close, pa" A mixture of moans and whimpers escaped your agape mouth, nails digging into his back with every thrust.

“Mhm, I know, baby. Let go for me” He grunted, reaching between your bodies to rub his thumb against your clit.

A series of curses left your mouth as you creamed around him. Walls contracting so tightly that he had no other choice but to cum.

“Fuuuck” He groaned, hips stilling inside you as he flooded your walls.

“I'm sorry for making you sad, baby. I love you so much, I'll never do anything to hurt you again” He whispered into your neck.

“I know Ony, I forgive you"

Pulling out he kissed you once more before laying flat in front of you, your thighs on each side of his head.

"Lemme show you how sorry I am, yeah?"

[keefechambers]

I wanna be blunt about this ongoing James somerton suicide threat issue but I don't want to connect it to my IRL Twitter to comment on the dogshit takes I'm seeing there or the good and well meaning but maybe too kind takes I'm seeing here.

Obviously, I hope that this is a false alarm cry for help fake threat. Yes, it would reinforce that Somerton is a self-centered egomaniac who can't handle consequences but that's preferable to dead.

But I work in local news and let me tell you something. I've covered half a dozen family annihilating murder suicides and heard hundreds of men making suicide threats over police scanners and a huge swath of these don't happen because they're depressed or because people are mean to them on the Internet. They're punishment. A person with an enormous amount of entitlement towards people around them gets backed into a corner and they punish the people closest to them by killing themselves or threatening to kill themselves.

No one wants to talk about this feature of suicide because...you want to help people who are struggling and guide them away from this path and being blunt about the fact that sometimes people die of suicide as a consequence of their own shittiness towards the world does not really help actively suicidal people. But suicide rates are higher in men not just because they have higher rates of untreated mental illness (a societal issue we must address for the sake of all) but because some people, often men, use suicide (but more often the threat of suicide) as a tool of abuse and control.

I'm not saying somerton is like, an icky abuser bad guy, he's just a run of the mill grifter scumbag, but his actions in the past show a clear pattern of escalating behavior that aligns with this.

Somerton gets called out -> somerton alleges physical threats of violence against himself and his fans rally around him supportively -> Harry calls somerton out in a bigger way -> Somerton says he's hospitalized but there are inconsistencies with the story but no one wants to talk about that because you wanna be nice-ish about a guy who just tried to kill himself and now he's trying to be framed as tragic but it doesn't really stick -> somerton apologizes again but his apology is rightly called out for lies and manipulative framing as well as his continuing attempts to profit off the community he betrayed -> James posts a suicide note publicly putting the onus of his own suicide on the loss of his friend Nick who he repeatedly threw under the bus and now everyone is rallying to say nice-ish shit and wring their hands in concern over poor james -> indefinitely repeat this vicious cycle forever until he actually does die or finally gives up and gets real, intensive therapy and a day job.

Thats not to say anyone's concern is misplaced, it's 100% better for him to be a living scumbag than a dead one. He deserves the chance to grow and learn and have a life outside of youtube.

But you don't have to portray this as the action of a sad depressed man who got bullied off the Internet. It's manipulation, whether he intended to go through with it or not and whether someone intervened or not. Not denying that internet bullying is a thing, I'm sure there were some people who were shitty directly to James but he made the choice to not unplug from this and to try and keep being a public figure rather than taking care of himself. He could have deleted Twitter, blocked anyone who was an asshole, gone to therapy and tried to move on with his life but if he'd deleted his channel he'd have lost monetization... Can't have that, right? So he posts some apology videos so his channel stays active and then complains about how ruinous this is while never trying to take real accountability.

But the reality is that people would have forgotten about him so quickly and maybe his job prospects would've been impacted but...that's on him, and that's for him to figure out but it's not actually life ruining. He chose to continue to engage knowing he'd get backlash and hate and he'd feel worse and worse and things would never get better without the time and space for people to forget.

He made the choice to make a public spectacle of his own alleged suicide. That is the action of someone who wants to put the weight of their suicide on someone else's shoulders and is morally wrong. He can be held to account for that, alive or dead.

[moonstruckme]

hi angel!! i was wondering if i may please request something with protective!sirius? (maybe rockstar!au but obviously doesnt have to be) and they’re at a party or something idk!! i just think he’s hot LOL

you’re such a good writer! also this is my first time sending in a request- so sorry if i did it wrong🩷🩷🩷

You didn't do anything wrong, thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: spiked drink, anxiety about bad trip

rockstar!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 655 words

You’ve got Sirius’ jacket and Remus’ arm heavy around your shoulders, and your sinuses are starting to hurt as the shouting coming from the kitchen intensifies. Sirius’ voice is the loudest, with James’ interjections only slightly less sharp but certainly no less upset. No one seems to be arguing back at them. 

“Are you okay?” Remus asks quietly. 

You hum. “I think I want to go back to the hotel.” 

“That’s probably a good idea. Want me to take you?”

“I was hoping Sirius might…” You chew your lip, eyes stuck on the closed kitchen door. 

You don’t want Remus to think you don’t want him to take you, but he seems to take it as you mean it, his expression characteristically kind as he follows your gaze. 

“I’m sure he will.” He stands, his arm slipping from around you as he starts towards the kitchen. “Someone’s got to tell this tosser off, but it doesn’t have to be him.” 

You follow after him more tentatively, staying behind Remus’ arm as he pushes the door open to stand in the threshold. 

James turns towards the both of you immediately, but Sirius is too caught up in his diatribe to notice. There’s an empty bowl of punch tipped over in the sink, rivulets of pinkish red running into the drain. A boy stands beside it looking positively terrified. You’re not sure exactly how James had found him, the groupie’s friend’s boyfriend who had thought it would be a fun idea to spike the punch with acid and not tell anyone about it, but clearly they’re not letting him off without forcing a thorough understanding of the consequences of his actions.

“Sirius,” you say softly. 

You’re not sure how he hears you over the sound of his own voice, but your boyfriend’s demeanor changes completely as he turns to you. His next insults fade from his lips, his posture shifting, the crackling fury about him melding into something softer and more pliable.

“Hey,” he says in a wholly different voice, “you okay?” 

You think the next time someone asks you that you might burst into tears. “Can we go?” you ask instead of answering. 

Sirius nods, brushing his hair behind his ear. With the many strands falling out of his loose bun and the messiness of his eye makeup, he looks about as frazzled as you feel. “Yeah, sweetness.” He starts towards you. “Let’s go. James—”

“I’ve got it, mate.” James gives him a weighted look. Though you’ll probably never be able to entirely decipher the language the boys share, you can read his meaning clearly enough: I’ll make sure he’s properly torn into whether you’re here or not. 

You ignore the boy by the sink and murmur a thanks to Remus. He lets the door shut after you and Sirius on your way out. 

Sirius guides you through the party with a hand on your back, the feel of his handprint distinct even through layers of fabric. People try to stop him, to ply the both of you with drinks and conversation and promises of after-after-parties, but he ignores most of them and keeps his responses short with the rest. It’s not long before you’re spilling out into cool night air. 

“I didn’t realize how smoky it was in there,” you admit. 

Sirius pushes out a breath and draws you tighter against him in a sort of walking half-hug. “I’m so sorry about all of this. Do you really feel okay?” 

“Yeah,” you say honestly. “I don’t think it’s kicked in yet.” 

“You’ve probably got a little while, but we’ll get you to the hotel and make sure it’s not bad for you.” He kisses the top of your head firmly, nose pressing into your hair. “I have no fucking clue what would lead someone to think that was okay. That prick thought it would be funny, as if you can just drug people without telling them and everyone will—” 

“Sirius.” You can hear him getting riled up again, and you really can’t deal. It’s not that you don’t love how much he cares, that protective ire that swells up in him on your behalf. But you’re scared right now. You feel tired and unsteady, and having someone to blame doesn’t help you the way it does him. “Can we not talk about it right now, please?” 

Sirius shuts his eyes, and you can see the stiff, quiet breath he takes to settle himself. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, baby, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you reply softly. 

When he looks at you, all the anger in his gaze has fizzled out, leaving only raw tenderness in its wake. “Are you nervous?” 

“A little,” you say. It’s a half-truth. “I don’t know what to expect.” 

“You’ll be okay,” he promises. “I’ve done it before. We’ll just get you comfy in the room, and I’ll be there to look after you. Does that sound okay?” 

You lean into his side. Sirius takes your weight happily, moving his hand so his arm goes around you. His thumb sweeps over your ribs. 

“Yeah,” you answer honestly. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

[mareastrorum]

That last episode really wasn’t as interesting as the discourse suggests, and that’s pretty much the problem:

First, Ludinus’s fight was not of the caliber expected for a final boss fight, which (in combination with his staff) suggests that it won’t be the last time we’ll see him. The issue is that the audience is generally quite tired of Ludinus because (1) he has made far too many appearances for a villain with a single-minded goal, (2) his interactions with the PCs are uninteresting because his motivations don't resonate with them in agreement or opposition, and (3) Delilah did the whole “Cerberus Assembly wizard who refuses to stay dead” thing in this very campaign (plus it was far more thematically appropriate for a necromancer) and that takes the dramatic tension out of the possibility. No one cast member bears the blame for those 3 issues; Matt probably should have pivoted to give Ludinus additional motivations when the Hells had so consistently demonstrated an inability to commit to the gods question, and the players should have done something to build a sense of purpose in their group (which would be their reason to oppose the villain). Instead we're left with "this guy has rancid vibes, kill him and do what he wanted us to anyway."

Second, the PCs’ decisions leading up to this point have annihilated any semblance of tragedy in the narrative. This isn’t a tragedy because that genre rests on eliciting a feeling that the characters deserved better, but the audience nevertheless understands why it turned out this way. That can arise from paying attention to institutional injustices, the allure of cycles of violence, or the development of tragic flaws (strengths causing a downfall). That isn't C3; this is a bunch of trite flaws (selfishness, short-sightedness, pettiness, favoritism, etc.) turning out to be flaws. It would have been amazing if this had been an example of hubris like we saw in EXU Calamity, but each of those main characters were bursting with pride in themselves, their city, and mortality, and while that hubris brought the Lord of the Hells back, they managed to prevent the worst case scenario using the exact same skills and resources. None of that is present here. Bell’s Hells are constantly trying to shift the captain’s hat to someone else, and their ship has been heading straight for rocks for the past 60 episodes. There was no intention to sail into the rocks. It wasn’t their strengths that led to Imogen accepting Predathos; it was the same indecisiveness that has plagued them the entire campaign. They had 118 episodes to build a proper tragedy, and instead we have a story that took hundreds of hours to say that unreliable people shouldn’t be relied upon. The result has been numerous posts hoping for the Hells to suffer all sorts of consequences (TPK, specific player deaths, refusal of aid from the gods) for failing to commit to a course of action. Why? Because then at least there would be some type of cathartic satisfaction that Fucking Around means they’re going to Find Out. It has nothing to do with imaginary people deserving a better ending and everything to do with feeling like this ending would have been more satisfying around episode 50.

These criticisms are not about facets within the story; it's not about whether X character was correct, whether Y fucked up, whether Z plan was the better choice. It's that sometimes people don't land their bit for improv shows, and that is disappointing after seeing skilled storytellers do so well with prior campaigns.

[mrsshabana]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞 - 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

ꔫ‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, pregnancy, age difference, angst, fluff, modern au ꔫ‧₊ Note 5k words. This is the last chapter for this fic, but I still have lots of things that I want to write for this au so be on the lookout for oneshots in the future. Thank you for all of your support for this series ♡ ✧:･ﾟ→ Part one ✧:･ﾟ→ Part two

“Fuck fuck fuck! What do I do? Her mom is gonna kill me if she figures out I’m dating her daughter! And then Y/N is gonna kill me for telling her mom!” Gyutaro thinks to himself as he begins to panic.

“Ahem,” your mother clears her throat and repeats her question, “Who the hell are you, sir?”

“Er um… Gyutaro?” he says as if he’s not sure what his own name is. 

“Gyutaro?!” her eyes widen.

“Shit… does she already know who I am? I thought Y/N didn’t tell her…” he thinks again. 

“Y/N! Come here!” she yells inside the house, then she turns back to Gyutaro and opens the door, “Come in, Gyutaro.”

“Um… th-thanks,” he stutters as he nervously steps inside, not sure whether your mother is angry with him or not. 

“Yeah, mom? What’s wro-” you stop mid-sentence as you come into the dining room and see your boyfriend standing there. 

“Y/N,” your mom says sternly, “This man just told me that his name is Gyutaro.”

You blush, “Um yeah… this is Gyutaro.”

“You failed to tell me that your boyfriend was a grown ass man,” she scowls and walks into the kitchen.

“Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you! I was scared of how you’d react,” you plea as you follow her into the kitchen.

Gyutaro just stands awkwardly in your dining room, wishing that he could shrink and hide somewhere. His palms begin to sweat as he thinks about the consequences of his actions. Is your mother going to make you break up with him? 

The thought makes his heart ache. Is he going to lose his sister and his girlfriend on the same day? 

Your mom comes back into the dining room holding a teapot and some cups, “Gyutaro, come sit and make yourself comfortable,” she says as she pours a cup of tea for him. 

“Y-Yes ma’am,” he mutters and sits at the table.

You aren’t sure what to do or say to make things better, but you sit beside Gyutaro and give him a reassuring look in an attempt to comfort him. In response, he looks at you with a guilty look in his eyes as if he’s apologizing. 

“Gyutaro,” your mom says calmly as she sits across from him at the table, “I have three questions for you.”

“Y-yes?” he gulps.

“Do you have a job?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Do you have a criminal record?”

“No ma’am.”

“Do you pay your taxes?” 

“Of course!” he answers enthusiastically.

“Alright. Now Y/N, I have three questions for you,” she diverts her attention to you now, “Does Gyutaro make you happy?”

“Y-Yes! He makes me very happy…” you blush. 

“Does he behave like a gentleman?”

“Yes, always,” your cheeks redden.

“Do you love him?”

“I-I do,” you mutter, feeling shy about admitting this in front of your mom. 

“Alright, then I approve of him. Even though he’s a bit older than you, he seems like a decent man,” she states as she looks over at Gyutaro’s flustered face, “Welcome to the family, Gyutaro.”

“Th-Thank you Miss L/N!” he lets out a sigh of relief, finally feeling in the clear that your mom approves of your relationship. 

“See mom! I told you he was a good boyfriend!” You jump up and give him a big hug, genuinely feeling so happy that your mom accepts your relationship. It was something you were really worried about, especially since your mom has always been very protective of you. Honestly, you're quite surprised she’s so cool about the age difference between you and your boyfriend. 

“I honestly thought you’d be mad,” you laugh nervously, hoping you aren’t jinxing it. 

She sighs and sips her tea, “You know dear, your father was the same age as me. And he left me when I was pregnant with you. He was young and immature. Age means nothing,” she shakes her head, “I rather you date an older man that pays his taxes and takes care of you than a man your age that only cares about himself.”

Gyutaro smiles, finally feeling like someone accepts him and doesn’t judge him. He sees where you get it from now. 

“And that’s why your father is in prison for tax evasion…” she mumbles under her breath, only Gyutaro hears what she says. 

“Aw mom… I promise you Gyutaro is nothing like dad,” you say, looking a bit somber as you take a sip of your tea. 

“I can already tell,” she smiles, “Well, you two can go have your fun. Just be home by ten.”

“Are we going on a date, Gyu?”

“Oh uh no… actually I came over for something else,” he swallows dryly, “Um… I told Ume about us.”

Immediately from the look on his face you can tell things didn’t go well. “Oh… Did she take it really hard?”

“Yeah,” he nods, choking up a bit, “She called me disgusting… then she slapped me and left,” he touches his cheek, still red from her hand. 

“She what?!” you gasp, totally shocked that Ume would get physical with her brother. You aren’t sure what words to say, it seems like nothing would be able to fix this. The one person who has been with him his entire life, the person he dedicates all of his hard work to doesn’t accept his relationship. It’s a really hard pill to swallow, and he’s still struggling to even think about it. 

The surprise meeting with your mother distracted him momentarily, but all of those raw feelings from his argument with Ume are flowing back now and he feels his eyes begin to well up with tears. 

“Ume is his sister, right?” Your mother whispers to you.

“Yeah,” you nod. 

“I see,” she puts her hand on Gyutaro’s shoulder, feeling lots of sympathy for him, “Gyutaro listen, your sister didn’t mean it and I think you know that. The two people that she’s closest to started dating and she’s probably feeling left out. Like you two will get closer without her and leave her. She’s just scared and said whatever she could to try to hurt your relationship. Just give her time, I promise she’ll come around.”

Your mom smiles softly, offering Gyutaro that motherly care he grew up without.

“Th-thanks,” he sniffles, trying to hold back his tears, “I know you’re right. It just hurt when she said those things, but I know she still loves me… and I still love her too. I just hope she comes home soon…”

“Maybe try calling her tomorrow if she doesn’t come home by then,” you suggest as you rub his back.

Gyutaro nods, feeling better after having talked to the both of you. 

Of course, it hurt like a ton of bricks crushing his balls, but he knows the pain is only temporary. Soon enough his sister will come back and he’s going to make sure she doesn’t feel left out. 

The thing is, even after a couple of days Ume doesn’t return home. Nor does she answer Gyutaro’s phone calls. 

Every day you receive worried texts and calls from Gyutaro asking if you’ve seen his sister. You haven’t heard anything from her, and to be honest you think it’s kinda messed up that she’s ignoring her brother like this. Sure they had a pretty big argument but she knows he cares about her, and she knows he’s losing his shit worrying about her right now. 

Seeing your boyfriend so torn up over it is making you really upset, and you’ve had enough of it. 

Ume has been ditching class for a couple of days, but she finally shows up. Coming into the room completely ignoring you, taking her seat at the opposite side of the lecture hall. Even though you hate confrontation you know you can’t just let her walk away after class ends, so you stop her as she’s leaving the lecture hall. 

“Ume! Hey wait up!” you shout as you follow her out of the room. 

“I have nothing to say to you,” she turns her nose up.

“Please talk to me,” you finally catch up to her, “I just want to talk, Gyutaro told me what happened.”

“Of course he did,” she scoffs, “Because you two are so buddy-buddy now. How about you just move in with him and take my spot in the house? I bet you’d like that, huh?”

“What? No! I’m not trying to take him away from you!”

“What else am I supposed to think?! You were my best friend and then I find out you’ve been hooking up with my brother behind my back! You’re a shady bitch!”

“It’s not like that! I was never “hooking up” with him!” You plea, “We just started dating like any other couple, I don’t see why you have to say it like that.”

“So what is it then? If you weren’t just hooking up with him what were you doing then? Do you want his money or something? Want him to be your sugar daddy?” she makes a disgusted face.

“No! You don’t get it! Just because Gyutaro’s older than me doesn’t mean I’m using him for this or that. I just like him because he’s a good guy,” you say, trying to get your point across without yelling at her, “Why can’t you just accept that I like him for who he is?”

Ume’s frown begins to soften and her eyes dart from side to side as if she’s thinking about something. She’s beginning to realize how selfish it was of her to think that someone couldn’t love her brother for who he is. Gyutaro came to the realization that he was unlovable long ago, and his beliefs rubbed off on his sister. But now she’s starting to see how wrong that is, she should have been his biggest cheerleader regardless of how glum things seemed. 

Sure Gyutaro isn’t the most attractive guy, nor is he the most charming, but she knows her brother more than anyone. And she can think of a thousands reasons why someone would fall in love with him. 

“I’m sorry Y/N,” she says, “You’re right. My brother is super slay, and I shouldn’t have been surprised you liked him. You’re the only girl to get close to him, so I guess it makes sense.”

You smile, finally feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. 

“It’s alright, I know it came as a surprise to you,” you lean forward and hug her, “But I’m honestly just happy to have my friend back.”

“Me too,” she says with a smile.

After you reconcile with Ume, Gyutaro comes to pick you up from campus as the two of you had planned a date for tonight at his place. But when he pulls up to the curb and sees you with Ume he immediately parks his car and gets out.

“Ume!” he shouts as he runs towards you, “Where the hell have you been?!”

“Calm down brother,” she acts nonchalant about being missing for three days, “I was staying with a friend.”

“You had me worried sick,” his voice cracks as he tears up. Feeling a mixture of anger and relief.

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a tight hug, “I-I’ve been a brat lately. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did when you told me about Y/N… and I should never have hit you either. I’m really sorry, brother…”

“It’s alright, sis,” immediately Gyutaro’s attitude changes and he has a smile on his face, “You are a brat, but I love you anyways,”

For the first time in your relationship, Gyutaro actually feels normal. Knowing that he has the approval of his sister, he no longer feels so much shame about being older than you. He can confidently walk out in public with you now and hold your hand without giving a fuck. Someone stares at you weirdly? Well, fuck them! Gyutaro is with his girl and he couldn’t care less about anyone else’s opinion about it. He’s happy and you’re happy. That’s all that matters to him. 

The three of you go back to Gyutaro’s house and watch a movie together. The plan was for you and Gyutaro to have a stay-at-home date together, but you decided it’d be best to include Ume too so she doesn’t feel left out. It went well despite the fact that Ume decided to sit in between you and Gyutaro. 

After the movie ends Gyutaro asks you a question as he cleans up some popcorn that fell between the couch cushions, “So uh… did you want to stay the night?”

“Not with me!” Ume butts in, “She has your cooties now!”

“Ume! Shut it!” Gyutaro blushes, “Cooties don’t exist, don’t be so childish.”

“I was just kidding, brother,” she rolls her eyes, “Y/N just stay in my brother's room. Just promise you guys won’t be too loud.”

“H-Hey!! It ain’t like that!!” he shouts with a completely red face as Ume is already walking back towards her bedroom. He knows she’s just teasing him but he still feels very shy when it comes to this kind of thing. Especially since the two of you have only spent one night in the same bed, and both of you vividly remember what took place then.

“It’s ok Gyu,” you chuckle, your cheeks already pink from Ume’s earlier statement, “Let’s just get ready for bed, ok?” 

“Ok…” he grumbles as he finishes cleaning up his sister’s mess. 

Following Gyutaro to his room, you can’t help but think about what might happen tonight. Will you have sex with him again? How will it go? Maybe you’ll try a different position or maybe even oral this time. Your heartbeat quickens as you think about all of the possibilities. 

Little do you know, he’s thinking about the exact same thing. He wants to be intimate with you again so badly. And for the first time instead of feeling awkward and insecure, he feels confident about initiating sex with you.

“I’m going to run a bath for us,” he says after he closes the bedroom door behind you and walks into the bathroom that’s connected to his room. 

“O-Ok,” you stutter as your face heats up. Did he say he’s going to run a bath for us? Meaning he wants to take a bath with you?

As you hear the water running in the bathroom you decide to take off your clothes, only leaving your undergarments. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you take a deep breath and try to calm your thoughts. If you do end up having sex with him tonight, you want to be relaxed so you can enjoy the moment. 

But even though Gyutaro seemed cool and collected he’s freaking out on the inside. And that shows when he comes back into the room to see you in nothing but panties and a bra. Immediately the cool guy act crumbles and he’s staring at you like this is the first time he’s seen a naked woman. 

“U-um Y/N?” he stutters. 

“Is the bath ready?” you sit up to meet his flustered gaze. 

“Yeah,” he nods, tenderly taking your hand and leading you to his pristine bathroom. The first thing you notice is how clean and neat it is compared to Ume’s. 

Gyutaro avoids eye contact with you as he begins removing his clothes. First to go is his shirt, revealing his muscled torso and the large tattoo on his arm. He hesitates when taking off his pants, already feeling himself getting hard. 

“Fuck…” he mutters to himself. Not wanting to make this awkward by just flaunting his hard-on. So he faces away from you and quickly steps into the tub, covering himself with his hand just to be safe. 

To be honest, he got in so quickly that you didn’t even really notice. You do feel a bit shy removing your own clothes though, this will be the first time he’s seen you nude in a fully lit room. 

And your boyfriend can tell just how nervous you are so he doesn’t stare. Only reaching out a hand to help you get into the tub when you’re ready. 

The water is warm and soothing, the surface covered by cherry scented bubbles - which he strategically put in there so you wouldn’t be able to see how achingly hard he is. 

Leaning back with a content sigh, Gyutaro opens his arms to you, “C’mere.”

With a blush you come to your boyfriend and lay your head on his chest, snuggling up to him under the warm water. Surely by now you can feel it, so maybe the bubbles were a waste of time. But that’s ok because Gyutaro isn’t even worried about that anymore, he’s too focused on how lucky he is to be having this moment with you right now. 

“This is nice, Gyu,” you hum as you trail your hand up and down his chest, “I like being alone with you like this.”

“Me too,” he whispers while trying not to moan from your touch. “You-you look really beautiful by the way…” His gaze drifts down to see your curves peeking out from beneath the water. 

He can’t deny it anymore, how badly he wants to have sex with you right now. Ever since you did it the first time it’s constantly been on his mind. But not for the reason you may think. He loved it so much because he felt so loved. It was the first time in his life that he felt so intimately close to someone. That kind of love and closeness is something he’s craved for his entire thirty-five years of life. 

And after today, all of the confidence he gained from finally having his sister’s acceptance, he’s feeling less ashamed of himself. His girl loves him, so why shouldn’t he show her how much he wants her? There’s nothing to be afraid of. 

Mustering all of the confidence he has, Gyutaro gently caresses your cheek - moving a strand of hair away from your face and looking into your eyes. Immediately you feel your knees go weak and your thighs rub together with need. 

He pulls you closer and presses his lips against yours, initiating a heated kiss. 

You can’t help but completely melt into him, allowing him to guide you fully on top of him. Now you’re definitely able to feel his erection as it presses between your legs. But it’s no surprise, you could tell he wanted you by the way he looked at you before he kissed you. 

Beneath the water he maneuvers his hands, one cupping your breast and the other squeezing your thigh. Enjoying the slippery softness of your soapy skin under his touch. Moving his kiss down to your neck, he nibbles and sucks on your delicate skin. 

“Ah, Gyu,” you whimper and hold onto his shoulders. 

He can’t help but smirk, pride building up within him that he’s able to make you melt like this. “M’gonna make love to you,” he whispers into your ear as he moves forward, pushing you to lay on your back as he moves your legs to hang over his shoulders. 

Looking up at him, you feel like your body has become jelly. He looks so sexy as he hovers above you, from the way his long damp hair sticks to his forehead and neck to the way the water droplets cling to his abs and biceps. Not to mention the patch of hair that trails up to his belly button. It all makes you feel butterflies and you can’t help but spread your legs for him. 

Tightly gripping your thighs, he leans forward and whispers, “Don’t worry baby, I’ll go slow,” and gently moves his hips forward - gradually sliding into you, splitting you apart on his length. 

You gasp and squirm beneath him, your body sweats as you are not only surrounded by the warm water but also by his hot body on top of you. 

Once fully inside, he slowly thrusts into you just as he had promised. Making sure to pay close attention to your reaction to make sure you're comfortable. 

And you’re more than comfortable. If anything you’re too comfortable. The fact that he isn’t vigorously ramming into you as if he intends to put a baby in you is unbearable. So you grab his hips and forcefully plunge him into you, “Fuck me harder Gyu!” You pant, desperately trying to guide him to a faster pace. 

His eyes widen and his cheeks turn pink, but he doesn’t need to be told twice. With your permission, he grabs your hips and violently thrusts into you - so hard that the water in the tub spills over the edge. But neither of you care, too lost in pleasure to even notice. 

“Ahh, I wish you could put a baby in me, Gyu!” you moan, not fully realizing what you’re saying. But your statement sparks something within him and triggers a kink he didn’t even know he had. 

“Fuck… I wanna put a baby in you so bad,” he grunts, “gonna stuff you full.”

The thought of getting you pregnant makes Gyutaro absolutely feral. A family is something he’s always wanted, so just the mere idea of you carrying his baby drives him to fuck you even harder. Determined to get as deep as possible, ensuring that his seed fills you nice and full. 

With that thought in mind, he picks you up and holds you close to his body while he stands on his knees. Holding onto your hips as he pounds into you, the sound of wet skin slapping fills the room along with water splattering onto the tile floor. 

Meanwhile, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on tightly while he fucks you silly. Saliva dripping down your chin and your tongue lolls out of your mouth, moaning and gasping as your boyfriend continuously forces the air out of your lungs. Your entire body begins to tingle, you know you’re getting close. And he knows it too by the way your walls are tightening around him. 

That’s the only warning he gets before you’re cumming all over him. Your body shaking as his strong arms hold you up. 

However, his orgasm hits him out of nowhere, as soon as he feels your orgasm hit you it pushes him over the edge as well. He didn’t want to cum just yet but you feel so good that he can’t help it. His cock twitches as it fills you to the brim with his sticky seed. The warmth spreading inside of you comforts you as your sensitive body lies in his arms. 

Gyutaro pants as he holds you there for a moment, trying to catch his breath. Then he gently lowers himself back into the tub, holding you and softly kissing you as you remain in his arms. 

Now that his orgasm has ended, he knows it was all just talk. That he can’t actually get you pregnant since you’re on birth control. But he can tell that a part of what you said was true and not only because it was in the heat of the moment. And it was true for him too. He really would like to get you pregnant and start a family one day. 

“Don’t worry my love,” he whispers, “One day we will start a family together, I promise.” 

You can’t help but smile and snuggle closer to him - hoping that one day you really will get to start a family with him. 

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

And it won’t be long until Gyutaro makes you an official Shabana.

Because a year later he proposes to you. 

After you graduated and moved in with him he knew that he had to make you his wife. So it wasn’t long until he couldn’t wait any longer and just asked. The two of you were on a weekend trip to the beach when he proposed. Nothing too fancy, but it was nice and romantic. He hadn’t planned to propose that weekend either, he had been carrying the ring around in his pocket for weeks. But when he saw how beautiful you looked as you walked beside him on the shore, he knew he had to make you his wife as soon as possible. 

You had the wedding four months after the proposal. It was a small ceremony with close family and friends, but it was absolutely perfect. 

Ever since then your life has felt like a dream. 

Gyutaro got a promotion so now he doesn’t have to work overtime as often and there’s no pressure for you to work a full-time job if you don’t want to. Ume moved into an apartment in the city so now it’s just you and Gyutaro living in his house.  He’s even taken up doing some renovations in the kitchen and the spare bedroom too. 

It’s strange how your life changed so quickly after you met Gyutaro. You went from a college student living with your mom to being married and living with your husband in your own house all in the span of a year and a half. 

This isn’t the life you had envisioned yourself having after college, but you wouldn’t change a single thing. It’s perfect, and it’s only going to get better from here. 

“Honey, I’m home!” Gyutaro shouts as he comes into the house, “Sorry I’m late. I wanted to pick us up something from the bakery-” he stops when he looks around and sees you’re nowhere in sight. 

He peeks into the kitchen, “Where the hell is she?” next he checks the garden. “Y/N?” no, not there either. 

Usually, when he gets home from work you’re in the kitchen preparing dinner or sometimes outside in the garden. Sometimes you go out with your friends but you usually tell him first. He’s not mad though, he just assumes you went out and forgot to tell him. 

“Oh well, I’ll text her and see what she wants for dinner tonight,” he says to himself as he takes off his tie. His mind is lost in thought as he thinks about what he wants to make tonight, he’s thinking one of your favorites. 

As he contemplates dinner, he walks into the bedroom to see you sitting on the bed. Immediately he can tell that something is wrong. 

“Y/N? Are you alright?” he walks over to you and puts his hand on your shoulder, “What’s that in your hand?” He asks as he notices you’re clutching something in your hands, hiding it from his view. 

“Gyu… I-I have to tell you something…” you mutter. 

“Babe, you’re scaring me… whatever it is, you can tell me. I promise I won’t be mad,” he says in a caring manner, trying to comfort you. 

Your thoughts are spiraling, not sure whether he will be happy or angered by what you say. But you know that it’s something he needs to know. 

However, you can’t even muster the words. So you just hand him the object you had clutched in your palms. 

The room is filled with silence as he closely observes the object, “You… you’re pregnant?”

“Y-yeah, I’m pregnant,” you nod and look up at him, anxious to see his reaction. And it isn’t at all what you had expected. 

There are tears pouring from his eyes as he clutches the positive pregnancy test. All of his walls start crumbling down and he lets it all out, sobbing uncontrollably. 

“Gyutaro?” you gasp, starting to panic. 

Before you can reach out to him he lunges forward and embraces you, tightly wrapping his arms around you. “We-we’re gonna have a baby!” he sobs, “I can’t believe it.”

“Aw honey, so… you’re happy?”

“Of course I’m happy! Th-this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me!” he says between sobs.

It seems you were worried for nothing. You knew Gyutaro always wanted children but you didn’t know if he wanted them now especially since you haven’t been married for very long. Gyutaro has always been nothing but loving and supportive towards you, so of course he was overjoyed at the news.

Your husband drops to his knees and presses his forehead against your stomach, “This is everything I’ve ever wanted…”

“Aw Gyu…” you smile and kiss the top of his head, “You’re going to be a great father.”

Hearing those words makes his tears flow even more. “I-I had no idea you were pregnant...”

“It was bound to happen,” you chuckle causing him to chuckle too.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right haha,” he stands and gives you another tight hug. 

The news was shocking to him, but he couldn’t be that surprised. Ever since you got married you’ve been having unprotected sex so it’s no surprise that it happened so soon. However, even though he’s married to a beautiful woman there was still a part of him that told him he was too old to have a family. Too old to have a child of his own. And too old to make a woman like you happy. 

But now he’s finally starting to realize that none of it was true. 

And he does deserve this. Marriage, children, and most importantly you. 

“I love you, Y/N… thank you for making all of my dreams come true.”

Taglist: @gyusimp @kyu-kitsune @idontevenknowlsjsbsbdj @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @chibi-absol @sterzin @cherrysxuya @angelicsaiko @misskaorii @matsukaah @dawn-rays-dingo @hoshigafuru @gloomysel @tergyri @404starlight @irondreamerface @zoroisminty @edenminx @multisstuff @that1lxnlybxch @emberlovesthemoon @blurpleuni-squid @boggiesho @nekee-lilac02

[glitter-stained]

I always feel like a little sad seeing posts about how Jason's character is inherently tragic and that's what makes it good, how him being unloved, a tragic consequence of his own actions, is inevitable, and how that shouldn't change because any change on that regard is a fundamental misunderstanding of his character. Yes, Under the Hood is a tragedy. Yes, Jason survived and for a long time people have been pretty confused at what to do with the character that survives the tragic ending. That doesn't mean he should continue to be trapped in the tragedy, that there's only value in him as long as he's unloved. And maybe that's me preaching and being a party pooper again but the idea that the teenage-to-young adult character with a mental illness that has damaged all his relationships is doomed to be lonely and have bad/upended relationships forever, that he's only good as a character as long as he's hurting others and/or himself (and usually both) and isolated because of this... It's sad, at the very least. I refuse the presumption that tragedies are the only stories wise and worth telling.

Also I personally really dislike the idea that Jason isn't and shouldn't be anyone's favourite, because he made himself nobody's favourite on purpose. Did he make himself a villain on purpose? Fuck yeah. Does any of his early attempts at reaching out to people hurt them? Indubitably. I maintain that this is because he wants to be someone's favourite as he is, at his worst, with his hands covered in blood. And I think he should be. (Without contradicting or damaging, by comparison, the relationships between other characters, that's the tightrope we need to be weary of when making such things, of course.)

It's like this: love, in most relationships, is conditional: you don't owe your friend or your partner to continue to love them if the relationship changes, if you change, if you become violent etc. If my girlfriend started murdering puppies, I would stop loving her. Ideally, however a parent's love for their child is unconditional. That's very often unfortunately not the case, but ideally it'd be, it's really not great for a kid to have zero parents that love them unconditionally. And most importantly, it's not just about actual unconditional love, it's about it being perceived. So it doesn't matter in the debate if Bruce actually loves Jason in spite of the murder, it matters that Jason asks for confirmation of it at the end of UTH and receives a negative answer. (similar arguments to be made about Catherine loving Jason and dying of drug overdose and Willis going to jail and dying - it's the potential perceived abandonment of it that would matter, not their agency and actual love. And it's not a question of whether he would be angry at it so much as that he'd yearn and hurt for it. And of course Sheila didn't love him at all.) That's why he, upon learning about Mia and reaching previously unknown to man levels of projection*, tries to rally her with the hope that, because she's "so similar to him" she would understand him. That's why upon learning about Dick "killing" Blockbuster Jason, again projecting more violently than a bullet, Jason makes Dick into his new favourite person (god, the concept behind BiB has so much potential why did it have to suck so bad...) Anyway, Jason to me is a character with a very intense, very overwhelming conception of love both in who he loves and how, who struggles to understand that other people love and show it differently, and it makes so much sense for him to keep looking for a person who will love him unconditionally (something that's both very rare and not necessarily healthy since, again, most relationships aside from parent-child relationships do not and probably should not include unconditional love). This is particularly interesting in the context of him having bpd (again, using bpd because i'm focusing on the interpersonal dimension that's been mostly studied within that frame) because BPD often functions around a vicious circle of "is afraid of rejection/abandonment -> does maladaptive behaviour in attempt to prevent rejection/abandonment OR protect oneself by being the one to leave first" which is what leads to the instability in relationships. It's a doomed prophecy: i have maladaptive patterns that make me think my girlfriend is gonna leave me at any time, I keep demanding to see her phone, assuming she's cheating everytime she leaves and thus demonizing her even though I was glorifying her five minutes earlier" then she's going to leave me, which is gonna reinforce my thought pattern that everyone always leaves me. But that also means that in rare instances in which the other person in the interact, for whichever reason, sticks around through that, then these incorrect thought patterns begin to change through the sheet logic of extinction: if i think that people always leave me because of something fundamentally wrong with me and people don't leave then eventually the idea that people are doomed to abandon/reject me is going to lose its power. That's, btw, an important part of why therapy works.

(*that one's a joke, btw. He's not projecting onto mia and dick to levels impossible to mankind, just pretty intensely. Very human levels of projection, might I add'. Just to clarify.)

Now, be mindful: I'm not saying make Jason an abusive boyfriend. I'm not saying put him in a relationship where the other stays because they're afraid of him, that's not unconditional love or acceptance that's just fear. Of course, the ideal version of it would be Jason goes to therapy but because dc hates me specifically this is never gonna happen, but imagine him being in a relationship, romantic or otherwise, with someone who is as intense and "unwell" about him as he is about them. I'm not saying it would fix him (again, get him so goddamn therapy jfc) but it would change him. And just as it doesn't have to be healthy it doesn't have to be tragic.

I was asked a while ago my thoughts on Jason's current stagnancy as a character and if I thought he could become interesting again, and I said yes and talked about the directions I dream would be explored with his character and their potential. My answer hasn't changed, and it's completely compatible with this, but I will add: I think Jason as a character has largely and for long enough been defined through his yearning to be somebody's favourite, and that if you want his mode of interacting with others and dynamic with different characters to change then this is a very logical way to do it. And it would make a lot of sense for it to be the catalyst for other changes in his character (ie in his name or philosophy).

Get that boy into a super intense long-term codependent situationship, is what I'm saying. Please.

[tojjist]

𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐘 ↳ r. sukuna

in which: the king of curses left you the moment you announce your pregnancy to him. but after nearly losing you... he might be having a change of heart contains: very slight objectification of reader, reader is a half-curse, mentions of injury and near-death experience, reader is pregnant, slight mention of pregnancy sex, sukuna is really ooc tbh A/N: yall really wanted soft sukuna lmao. i js wanted to write something more in my own style instead of the tumblr style. It's all over the place really, also obv trueform! sukuna. w.c : 1.6k

“Sukuna-sama?” Your voice comes out a breathy whisper, barely audible.

“Do– ugh,” The pink-haired curse sighs. “Don’t call me that. And don’t make me repeat myself.”

You haven’t known Sukuna to be tender. Actually, scratch that. You used to genuinely believe he mistook the adjective for an affront. He probably still does, despite the sheer softness of his actions. His mind is a marvel far beyond your, or anyone else's, comprehension. And if Sukuna hasn’t always been complicated, his sudden switch of behavior recently has rendered  unriddling the complex being that he is even harder.

“What do I call you then?” There’s confusion in your tone; confusion fused with unadulterated innocence. His eyebrows crease further. He loved how naive and ingénue you are. Such a simple, sheepish thing. Easy to lead one, easy to use, easy to hurt. But as of late, he’d come to hate it.

He hates that he hates it. He shouldn’t care.

“I don’t fucking know,” he snaps back. It’s enough to bring you silence, the somber tone he uses coming with a sense of finality. 

Rough callouses are surprisingly gentle against your flesh—callouses that slap, bruise, grope, but never caress. Despite that, he pulls your underwear up your thighs with utter care. If you didn’t know any better, you might even dare call his actions delicate.

“Does it hurt?” He reminisces. Curious digits stroke your lower abdomen and across the swell of your belly, where an ugly scar sits. It decorates your skin with a long, uneven line of dried blood cells.

“It’s not too bad,” You assure, daring to test your luck by bringing your own hand to his hair. It causes the king of curses to pause. His ember eyes continue to stare at your scar, unable to swat your hand away for some reason. The wooden floor beneath him feels too cold. Or he feels too hot. He’s unsure.

In the dimness of the room, there is no light but the flickering glow emitted from the fire, ensconced within a cage of brick—a fireplace, by name. Yet, the warmth that enfolds you does not excrete solely from the flames. It originates from within, a pulsating heat that comes with the beat of your heart as a large palm finds your shoulder, urging you forward with an urgency that seems to echo through the very fibers of your being.

“What about this one?”His intense glare persists, averting your demure gaze. Never before have you witnessed him in such a state, making you wonder whether this demeanor is a consequence of recent events.

“It’s fine, I promise,” Your whispered words cause his gaze to harden even further, his thumb tracing over another, deeper cut nestled in the valley between your breasts. This one could have been fatal. The realization sends a shiver down his spine, unsettling him to his core. Sukuna, the ancient and ruthless curse, has borne witness to countless horrors in his long existence, inflicted unspeakable cruelty upon countless souls, but none have shaken him to his core quite like seeing you teetering on the brink of death. The memory stirs within him an unfamiliar sense of disquiet, a realization that his desires may have consequences far more profound than he ever anticipated.

The brawny curse grunts in response, opting to continue examining the scar. He’s careful to not stretch it as your human flesh would hurt. 

Sukuna’s agenda never included leaving a child within you. It never even crossed his mind. Such muses were not to be entertained, especially not with you.

You. Yeah, you who doesn't try to kill humans simply for the pleasure it brings. You who takes life so lightly, as if you have several souls to spare. You who accepts every word Sukuna says as an indisputable fact, every order executed before he has a chance to reconsider.

You, who has shared your bed with the strongest curse more times than he cares to count, always intrigued him—an enigmatic subject for his manipulations. You, who confided in him the startling revelation that your half-cursed body now nurtures a growing fetus.

At first, Sukuna swore he'd never visit you again, adamant in his belief that he wanted no involvement in your pregnancy, leaving you to navigate the situation alone. Despite his capability to end your life without hesitation, he chose to spare you. Sukuna granted you a reprieve under the condition that he never crosses paths with you or whatever child you carry. He told himself time and time again that you would be a rather boring kill, not worth the effort. But it wasn't about the difficulty of ending your life—it was an excuse. He'd never admit that he doesn't want your blood staining his hands

Sukuna swears he’s not soft, that he doesn’t care for you at all.But the notion of being the one who brings you to your end does not enthrall him in the least.

He doesn’t care for the inferior likes of you, he reminds himself. That’s absurd. It’s laughable. It’s offensive, even. He doesn’t ‘care’, It’s simply curiosity that keeps him around. Curious of what kind of child the one you carry would come out to be. To see if they’d be worthy of being called his kin or not.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is dulcet, a melody that cuts his train of thought smoothly. Unlike anything he’s ever heard before. There’s a pleading tone, a need so urgent it's almost painful. He finds pleasure in that. Your perpetual longing for him, your unwavering loyalty even after his defeat by sorcerers the first time around—you kept him close like a devoted guardian to a fallen hero, even when you knew is anything but a hero. It's a power unlike any other—staying but not out of fear, it's a choice. A strong belief.

Balancing on his knees between her parted legs, he reaches out, his fingers finding purchase on the edge of the bed. His grip tightens instinctively, fingers slipping beneath the hem of the sheet as he steadies himself. With a controlled effort, he pushes upward, leveraging the bed for support as he rises to his feet

“Why do you ask questions you know the answer to?” He muses, his towering frame looking down at you. The flickering flames of the fire, their orange hues swirling and weaving a macabre tapestry around his countenance, lend him an aura of terror that would instill fear in any who behold him. Yet, unlike others, you find his presence strangely comforting. Despite the aura of terror he exudes, you've grown accustomed to it, finding solace in his formidable presence now more than ever before.

Your only reaction is to chew on the inside of your cheek, careful to not bite the fiber too hard. There’s an ambivalent air to him, remaining motionless as he towers over you. It seems as if he’s looking for something. Anything. He wants a reason to stay, but he can’t seem to find one satisfying enough.

He owes you nothing. But when you look at him like that… He’s never been one to falter at your pleading face, but perhaps he’s changing little by little. He staunchly refuses to acknowledge this change still, for him to do so would be an admission of vulnerability, a humiliation he cannot bear, even to himself. How he yearns for the willpower to end you, to push you away so you never obstruct his way like this again.

The worst part of it all is his acute awareness of why he feels so strongly now. He knows that it’s all him, and not at all you. He can pinpoint the exact moment he regret leaving your side. The memory is seared into his very core. 

He wishes he could forget, to erase the haunting image of you, wounded and bleeding, from his mind. 

It was when he came back a few days after his departure, for reasons he can’t recall, only to be greeted by the sight of a malevolent curse looming over you, hungry and poised to make you its next meal. He shouldn’t have intervened. It's the natural order—a relentless cycle where only the strongest survive, preying upon the weaker. He knows he's no exception. Nor are you.

But seeing you sprawled out on the floor, barely intact, with his child inside of you. 

He gulps at the memory, feeling an overwhelming urge to touch you once more, to make sure you’re not some figment of his imagination. To keep you from harm. You’re so stupid, so goddamn naive. He doesn’t know what to make of you. Other than a fucking headache.

“What is it? What do you want, brat?” He hopes to catch some semblance of his normal attitude. “Get it over with.”

“Please stay,” You plead, fingers gently gripping the open kimono he had thrown on once finished with you. “Please, Sukuna-sama.”

He sighs. You’re so obstinate.

Perhaps it's his lack of understanding that breeds hesitation within him, or perhaps it's his inherently fierce nature. A thing like you deserves to be treated with the utmost delicacy, cherished and nurtured. Sukuna, with his staunch commitment solely to his ideals, can never be the one assuming such a role for you.

“You’re doing things to me, you know?” Sukuna gets down, kneeling between your parted legs again, placing a warm palm in either side of your hips and seizing you within.

Maybe… staying with you tonight wasn’t such a ludicrous notion. He’s the king of curses; he  has all the time in the world to fret the trivial details.

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tagging: @kurtswld

"Human nature is something fickle," The words left Chrollo’s mouth, and they weren't pretty and charming as he always presented them. He was far too pissed off to care how he was presenting himself to you. Right here and now, he wasn't a gentleman, a well-mannered man who liked to read and discuss.

Looking at him now, he was the Phantom Troupe's leader. A killer and a monster. Your heart was beating louder at each step he took in your direction. It was a dangerous symphony, a requiem you weren't fond of. Yet, he seemed amused, fond of it, even.

"They lie, betray and kill," He kneeled in front of you, and while you tried to put distance between both of you, trying to crawl away, Chrollo pulled you back to him by your neck, his nails digging into your soft skin, making you whimper. 'You did all three of them in the span of two hours, darling. You lied to me,"

He chuckled. You weren't sure what he thought that was funny. You didn't want to know, you were far too afraid to move or talk to even think about what would he consider fun. Chrollo is a strange man, always were, always will be.

No... not man.

He was something else. Him and his little family. All murderers, all bad people.

He caressed your face in a tender way. The same way he used to when he first fell for you; the tears started to fall from your eyes at that. Whether it was because you really thought you could have escaped him or because you didn't want to know what he was going to do to you now.

"You betrayed my trust in you," He muttered, nuzzling his face against your neck, his hand still holding it, depriving you of breathing as he exhaled. "You betrayed my troupe's trust. And trust is something important for us. We have our backs, we're family, and when you lied to me, you lied to them."

"I didn't kill anyone..." You struggled to say, your last defiance slowly disappearing as you held onto his hand, trying to escape his grip, but it was impossible. "I'm... not like you."

Chrollo’s grip tightened slightly, his lips brushing against your ear as he let out a low chuckle. "Oh, my dear," he murmured, his voice dangerously soft. "Not like me? Perhaps you think you're better, untainted. But isn’t it fascinating how far desperation can push someone? How quickly survival overrides morality?"

You flinched, the weight of his words pressing down on you like an iron cage. He pulled back just enough to look into your tear-streaked face, his thumb stroking your jaw in a mockery of comfort. "You may not have killed anyone," he continued, "but your actions led to consequences. If you understand what I'm saying."

You shook your head weakly, choking on your own breath. "I didn’t mean for this to happen," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"But it did," Chrollo said sharply, his tone cutting through you like a blade. "And now, here we are. You thought you could run, thought you could escape me. Did you really believe I’d let you go so easily?"

His hand slid from your neck to your chin, tilting your face up so you couldn’t avoid his piercing gaze. "You’re mine," he said firmly, like a promise and a threat, his dark eyes gleaming with a possessive intensity that made your stomach churn. "You’ve always been mine, and no amount of running or lying will change that."

The air between you was suffocating, and despite your trembling, you mustered the courage to whisper, "What are you going to do to me?"

Chrollo smiled then, soft and almost kind, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His mask was back on his face. "What I’m going to do, my darling, is ensure you never feel the need to run from me again."

He leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead as though to seal his promise. "I’ll remind you of your place, remind you of the bond we share. And by the time I’m done, you won’t dream of leaving me again. You’ll know where you belong."

The cold finality in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. As he pulled you into his arms, cradling you like a precious possession, you realized there was no escaping Chrollo Lucilfer — not now, not ever.

[thecrabbybarista]

We should talk about The Lords in Black I'm gonna do that right now because I wanna talk about their trope subversion and symbolism and shit.

So obviously The Lords in Black are a subversion of Cosmic/Eldritch horror and I'm gonna explain how using an ant metaphor

So the classic ant metaphor for cosmic horror is to imagine that you're an ant encountering a piece of human technology, right? I believe it's usually a circuit board. The whole point is you're witnessing something deeply incomprehensible and unfamiliar.

The ant metaphor for the Lords in Black is: imagine you're an ant and a teenager starts burning you with a magnifying glass.

It's still incomprehensible, but not in the way the complexities of a circuit board is. If you were suddenly stricken by a scalding beam of light, the only way you could rationalize that is that it was an act of a god. You and your ant colony would invent and fear this god.

The Lords in Black each represent a kind of strange and inscrutable cruelty that the modern world offers, the cursed lasers that cut into our souls, from places we have no power over.

Wiggly is obviously the idol of capitalism. Animalistic desperation, commodity fetishization, and the exchange of money, products, and emotions. All of the things that the other Lords represent stem from elements of capitalism, hence why Wiggly is THE Lord in Black, the leader of his brothers. What Wiggly offers will never be enough. He is what leaves you always unsatisfied.

Nibbly is the idol of the consumption of human beings as products. Obsession with self image and presentability, trends of all kinds, and the beauty and fitness industries. People in the modern age are desperate to be consumable, and some would go to any lengths to do so. This is an attitude that especially impacts women, who feel that they need to wear make up every day just to earn respect. And when we feel the need to change to be respectable, the need to look appealing and to be consumable, the bourgeois eat well. Our quest to look special makes us like any other customer, filling. It's no mistake that the two leads of Honey Queen are women desperate to be noticed and respected. It makes them all the more eager to be eaten.

Tinky is the idol of infinity and repetition. Dead end jobs, middle class suburbia, and the inability to escape one's circumstances. It's no coincidence that the first time we see Tinky is at a wedding, a ceremony dedicated to eternal commitment, or that he's associated with CCRP, a company in which most of the workers do useless busywork all day. When you look at the life you have ahead of you, it can feel crushing. Will you ever have a real career to be proud of, or will you be stuck at this job until you die? Will you ever not struggle to make rent? Will you really love your spouse forever? What if you don't? Isn't it just easier to continue the routine than to address the problem? After Ted is driven to insanity by the Bastard's Box, after he discovers that he can't escape the person he's become, he becomes homeless, one of the most terrifying eternities a person can find themselves in, fully dependent on random acts of kindness to survive while your situation drives you further into insanity.

Blinky is the idol of the panopticon. Gossip, public drama, and unwanted attention. One of the first things Blinky does on screen is sexually objectify a girl who's fresh out of high school, and this plainly displays a consequence of living in a content driven world. There is constant scrutiny and interpretation given to your every action. At any moment, you could have over a thousand eyes on you, whether you want them there or not. The panopticon we live in captures us in moments of time, and turns the person we were in that moment into an object deserving anger, embarrassment, lust, admiration, judgement, or anything else a watcher might assign. But Blinky also targets another fear, the fear that we feel when we can't see the danger, and cannot protect ourselves or those we love. Alice's anxiety that Deb might cheat on her when she's not around are made manifest in Watcher World, and Bill's frustration at not being let into Alice's life are used against the family. We are inclined to both want and fear the panopticon. We hide, and we seek, and we expose.

Pokey is the idol of tyranny. Complacency, sedation, and obedience. The world revolves around the few and uses the many in service of this. We are all expected to fill some role in service to the rich, to work for a corporation and to buy the products of those corporations, and when we cannot fill these roles we are at risk of starving, or being kicked out of our homes. We must join them in their quest for profit, or die. But we must also accept their pacifiers or we will be driven insane. We must choose between complacency or despair in confronting our place in the world as a pawn, as an ant in the colony. Isn't it easier to accept the comforting lies? Your job is important. Corporations give people what they want. People in power deserve their power. People in power are using it well. We are happy. America is great.

These are the magnifying glasses that are being used to torment us, that we cannot make reason out of, that we've made dark gods out of. But this isn't the first time humanity has encountered scorching light from the heavens. When the people of ancient Greece witnessed burning rods of light, falling viciously from the heavens, they invented Zeus.

But we know where lightning comes from now. We know the science behind electricity and its place in the world. We know what keeps lightning away and what attracts it. We can protect ourselves from it.

But there's an important difference. Lightning is natural. It's existed long before we have and it will continue when we're gone.

The unorthodox cruelty of being alive today is not natural. We cannot logic our way into surviving it because it does not operate under a sound logic. But we can make things a little more bearable by focusing on what is sound, understandable and natural.

There is humanity. There are families friends and lovers who would go to the ends of earth to protect each other. As long as we have this humanity, we have hope.

That's why Miss Holloway's deal with the Lords erases her from living memory after her temporary deaths. To have the powers that she does she gave away the power most important to have under the Lord's rule: human connection. The only real thing we have left.

Alice and Bill escaped Blinky's manipulation through the love they have for each other

Emma survived the longest out of any character in tgwdlm because of the genuine hope Paul gave her of a better future

Lex snapped Tom out of Wiggly's control by reminding him of what his son really means to him

Ted couldn't escape Tinky's plan for him because he was too jaded to make a genuine connection with a woman.

Linda was eaten by Nibbly because she didn't have a loving connection with her father, because her father always made her believe that she was never good enough, because this mindset led her to take for granted the connections she did have in her life.

The world no longer cares about us. We have to care for each other. It's the only thing we have left

[baby-tini]

do you have a part 2 of where Mikey is cheating?

I do now ❤️

TW- Yandere-ish behaviour, a bit of victim blaming, implied murder, slightly detailed scene of murder, violent behaviour, implication of past cheating.

Mikey was a mess ever since you left, he knows he brought it on himself by cheating, but he was still angry. He missed you deeply, thought about you every night and everyday, you were his first thought when he woke up, and his first thought when he went to bed. You were- are his everything, in his head, you're still his, and nothing is ever gonna change that- nothing. You guys are just... on a little break, that's all. You didn't actually wanna leave, you didn't actually mean it when you said, you never wanted too see him again... right? You couldn't possibly mean that, after all you guys have been through together? You can't be serious, there's no way. So he let you have your little break, even if your absence clawed at him every minute of everyday, but when you didn't... it all kinda went down hill from there, even more so then normal.

It took awhile for him too track you down, longer then he was comfortable with or even, willing too admit. You're everything to him, the reason he even still gets up in the mornings, so, when you left his life,it affected him more then everything else ever has. He was so irritated, taking it out on traitors, torching them slowly as he deflected his emotional pain into physical on the people who have done him wrong. When he finally found you though, or, rather his men found you, his heart started too hurt. He's never been so happy in his life, having heard the news of your exact whereabouts, it pleased him greatly, his eyes even have a little bit of life back in them. He found you living in a tiny little apartment on the outskirts of Tokyo, it was quiet- peaceful even, something his lifestyle greatly lacked.

He contemplated whether or not too just knock on the door... or just break in. But, he ultimately decided too just knock for now and if that didn't work for him, he'd have no problem forcing his way in. You were glowing when you opened that door, looking content- happy even, but the way your smile dropped and the look of delight turned to dread, it hurt, it hurt him so fucking much to the point he almost toppled over. But he held it together, his eyes almost pleading as he whispered your name, it almost sounding foreign with how long it's lacked coming from his lips. But it felt re-freshing on his tongue, like a shred of hope as you stepped aside and let him in. Although hesitant, as your steps lacked genuine want, looking more forced, knowing who exactly this man was and what he was capable of.

It was quiet for a while, as you both sat on your couch, the silence feeling awkward and heavy as you tried your best too avoid eye contact with him. The action feeling too intimate knowing what he did and the way you left, it might've not been the best decision or the best way too leave, but you didn't really have any other option, knowing it would, most likely, start a big fight that you really didn't feel like dealing with at the time. Or the worse option, he didn't care at all and would just let you leave, that would've hurt a lot more then just leaving it up in the air, but with him being here, you were betting on the former being the more obvious situation if you were too have confront him and try too leave at the time, also taking into account that Mikey isn't the most stable, and that would've most likely pushed him off the deep end and would've led to worse consequences for you then just being homeless for a while before you were able too get a shitty job as a waitress and live in a tiny apartment.

"I'm... sorry for what I did.." were the first words he chose too spoke, the first words you've heard from him in months. You knew he was sorry, his presence at the apartment told you all you needed too know, but you also knew that you didn't have too forgive him for what he did to you, you put up with a lot of his bullshit, let him get in your face and call you ugly names or let him get violent with men when they, very stupidly, thought it would be okay too eye-fuck their bosses girl. Watched him beat a man within an inch of his life as soon as his disgusting hands layed a slap to your ass, with a nasty smirk, you've never seen Mikey move so fast in your life, a kick to the man stomach as he beat him bloody, black and blue. Having replayed the mans screams in your head as begged and pleaded with Mikey too not kill him, that he was sorry, you know the man wasn't sorry for what he had done, only sorry that the consequences were so dire for him. That was the first and only time you've watched Mikey kill a man, he kept you locked away for weeks- months after that... incident.

You decided too keep quiet, which was a big mistake on your part cause it only made Mikey inch closer to you on the already small couch. His hands grabbing at your shaky ones, pulling them up to his lips as he left the softest kisses on the backs of them with the whisper of, "let me make it up to you, please?" You wanted him too, you really did, you missed when he was soft with you, although very rarely, he still was willing too show vulnerability. Your head was already clouded not having fully processed the whole infidelity on his part, but you did miss him and with his appearance at your apartment causing a wave of emotion too bubble in your chest and tear ducts, you did, you let him take care of you again. Just hoping and praying that you wouldn't regret everything when your head was a little bit clearer and your arms weren't wanting too constantly reach out and hug him, when your heart wasn't constantly begging you too let him touch you again, too take you again and have you so vulnerable under him as he whispered, hopefully, long-lasting promises in your ear.

So you did, you let him lay your back on that rough, uncomfortable couch as he left kisses on your face, leading down your neck and turning into love marks. Leaving spit-covered kisses down your chest as he hiked your leg over his waist, kissing underneath your ear as he whispered just how sorry he was to you, promising he'd never he look at another woman again, that what he did was a one-time stupid mistake. Whispering about, how it took him losing you too realise just how perfect you were, how rare you were too continuously stay by his side, too pledge your loyalty to such a bad man, such as his self- a monster. To a man who has taken more then he has ever given in his entire life, he knows that you're special, special to him, but just special in general. Letting him have- letting him take you in a place you now called home, knowing what he's done, he was selfish, he knows that, but he's done with it, now that he has you back in his arms, he's never letting you go again. Over his dead body- or, more like the dead body of the woman he had sex with, that led you both to this moment, no more.