#you guys need to be meaner to me bc i just realized that in the original post that inspired this ask i accidentally swapped a word so the

[aldieb]

I wish to learn things about the vagus nerve (my enemy, my ally)

AMAZING. and that's a mood lol... the vagus nerve really has a lot to answer for given its contribution to the hyphen in the gut-brain axis

i'm mostly interested in this topic as it relates to the neuroscience of trauma, so lately i've been reading people arguing about whether or not polyvagal theory is bunk (probably). the theory builds on the foundation of the autonomic nervous system (which regulates involuntary processes like breathing and digestion) as split into the sympathetic (which activates our bodies and gets them ready for fight-or-flight type stuff) and parasympathetic (which calms our bodies down) nervous systems, with the vagus nerve being part of the latter.

but the psychologist/neuroscientist stephen porges further proposed that the parasympathetic nervous system is itself split into two more parts: one "more evolved" part associated with mammalian impulses to regulate ourselves through social connection, and one "less evolved" part that follows reptile and amphibian impulses to freeze when stressed. (he proposed this theory in 1994, but this paper from 2011 was fairly readable for me as a non-scientist.) this got people who study trauma (like my problematic fave bessel van der kolk) excited because a big issue with ptsd is overactivation of the autonomic nervous system--what if we could hack the vagus nerve and make it settle down just by making and nurturing social connections? unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be a lot of evidence for the evolutionary or physiological mechanisms behind the theory (check out this review from 2023 roasting the whole concept). porges still has like, many books published by norton (one coming out this august) and plenty of influence in the field, though.

also, this definitely doesn't close the book on the vagus nerve as a potential site for trauma treatment--now it seems like vagus nerve stimulation is the hot new thing (either using an actual device to do this or through ~self-care stuff like meditating and splashing cold water on your face).

i... don't know if any of this is something you wanted to know, but i had fun writing it instead of packing for my flight tomorrow so thanks

[brucethegirl]

Fave season of ouat. And y. Go. (Mine is 3 bc that’s when you see hooks softer/ but still flirtier side and the relationship growing). Although 5-6 come very close bc they are stronger and the proposal and wedding. Ahhhh. But omg when he asked for David’s blessing. That ep had me. But all the kissing in season 3. Oh wait, there’s other people other than hook and Emma in ouat? Nah.

Oh gosh.... (edit: i wrote like two paragraphs of this before realizing you just asked general favorite season, not favorite CS season, but I still turned this into a CS post.)

Season 2 is not bad. There's so much there for background to understand where emma was coming from, versus season 1 which was mostly us as viewers learning who everyone was in the enchanted forest and how the story we know was being reinterpreted. Now it was learning where Emma was coming from, where Killian comes into the picture and some of his background, where Cora comes from which lays the groundwork for how she raised Regina and where she is coming from. How they became the people they became today, the steps of their recent history. The continuous choices and situations that led them to where they were when they all came together. I love straight up evil Killian. It's fun. Him trusting her immediately, him being sassy flirty, him saying "just a I'm done with you" (pssh, okay my guy). but at the end, despite it being good writing, I'm just okay about it. I mean yea its got Tallahassee.... but I also am not a fan of how they handled the neal/emma relationship when they were young. Michael Raymond-James is NOTICEABLY an older man well into his 30s, and I could buy him being a rough 20 something, but Emma is VERY MUCH meant to be late teens and that entire casting situation and its implications followed by the pushing in later seasons for her to be with Neal by her family just makes me so very uncomfortable.

Three is honestly such a fair choice. I love season 3 with Hook starting to realize he needs to change and wants to change. But also still actively having to purge his villain tendencies. Rolling his eyes while volunteering to help Belle research. His snarky comments constantly that no one laughs at cause they're a little on the meaner side. But also the way he and Emma so automatically can read each other. She just has to tilt her head or nod and he knows what she wants him to do. The longing looks, the declarations. Nothing beats "when I win your heart, and I will win it. It will be because you want me" NOTHING. "I'm in this for the long haul" after saying he'll back off to give Henry the chance at a family, and won't inject himself into that. But also knows Neal will mess it up, knows he'll be on the sidelines for the second of an oppertunity. Knows that he DOES stand a valid chance if he wanted to fight. Like, just fuck me up. The shift in Regina's character and how she learns to become good, how that is different from Hook's journey but they both recognize it being the same journey. Her teaming up with Rumple to fnd Henry and it markedly NOT being villains teaming up, but her willing to do anything to save her son and the second she realizes its no good, she's gone. Learning more about the emotional backstory and early character moments in their lives, Hook, Emma, and Regina especially. Learning the complicate pasts, and seeing the steps they took to get here. I feel like actual writing wise- its the strongest season for them. Its also go the best lines. Like Regina and Robin also is SO GOOD in the flashbacks and I forever regret not getting more of them in that weird flirty hate each other stage but what we did get was SO GOOD. "Where you come from, they bath in the river and use pine cones for money" Lana... ma'am.... that is THE BEST LINE in the entire show for me. This season had all the potential, and for that it gets a lot of points. A lot of what was built didn't get delivered on as well as it should have, but that's not the foundations fault. And this season was the foundation.

Season 4 is prime them in love. I love the relationship part of most shows when they handle it well, and I think THAT aspect was handled well. Him obviously in love, her coming to terms with what that means. So much angst in a good way of him being the reason for some of the problems she has. Of him not having his heart. Of him realizing he can't keep making the same villain mistakes if he's going to be with her, if he's going to change. If he's going to be a better man. This is a great season just like... FOR him. You see the realizations that he's made these mistakes and he can't even blame his past self. His current self did this to himself. You see the beginnings of his self-loathing and how that builds the reasoning for the choices he makes. He's had his hook for centuries, he's learned how to work with it and around it. But for the date, the internalized ableism got the better of him, and he thought in order to be a better man, and the man she deserved, he needed to be 'whole.' Which is IMMeDIATELY disproved when she doesn't even realize he had his hand until its pointed out, and also doesn't notice its a hook again later because she loves HIM she sees HIM. Those outward shifts and changes are not important. She notices his clothing change because it represents so much more about him embracing this weird strange land and showing he's sticking around. But his hook? Well thats just part of him that she accepts because its part of him so when he changes it its not something she notices. (sorry, i have a LOT of feelings about this episode) And then the whole darkness inside him and the hand and him being a villain and being afraid of losing his happy ending. 4b is weak we all know that, but the emotions of it are so strong. "Don't you know Emma? It's you." MY GUYYYYYY. The kisses we got this season, the emotional leaps and bounds. Him admitting having her in his life is what keeps him on the side of the heroes. Him saying he hopes its his job to protect her heart even when no one is actively trying to steal it. Her discovering more about her past and really starting to share her history with someone, showing her past and being vulnerable with someone and allowing them to scale the fortress she's put up to protect herself. Learning that someone is there begging to be let in, and isn't going away, and even when she ignores him he says basically that he's not deterred so easily, she's worth it, he recognizes that, and he'll just wait patiently for her to be ready. He will always put her first. Will put her family first. Often at the expense of himself.

Now season 5. Look. Do I think its strong? No. It's some of the saddest writing (season 6 is the worst in my opinion) in that it had SO MUCH POTENTIAL. But it Never delivers it. Season 4 was their love story, so there's no need to focus so heavily on them in season 5, sometimes having them not even interact in scenes that make NO SENSE for them to not interact. Despite the fact that she's just told him she loved him before being taken over by the darkness and saying she trusts him to be able to reach her and save her. Despite the entire ARC being ABOUT THEM for BOTH HALVES, the actual day to day episode to episode is not about them at all. So little focused on them, on them interacting, on their story. It was such a mess. So much promise with so little delivery. Nothing was allowed to breath, nothing was allowed to sit, no one was allowed to have a single thought to work through what they were going through. He's evil for what? a single episode? and in the middle of it there's this entire hour about a character we don't know, with no one we care about, about something never mentioned again that holds zero bering on ANYTHING that happens or has happened. So much wasted time. I LOVE what 5 could have been. I LOVE the implications, and the shifts in narrative and expectation. I LOVE the discovery and acceptance of their relationship and the confirmations we get. I HATE nothing is ever discussed on screen. Everything is implied to happen off screen "like I told you" Did you tell her when the cameras were off? We're given nothing we should have. Everyone else is just set dressing, and yet have all the focus. Its disjointed and just lazy, and its only saving grace is whoever had the initial idea on the brain storm board and then the acting itself. But damn if this season doesn't give me inspiration.

Finally, season 6.... I'll leave at saying when its good, its great. All three singular scenes that are good. There's no follow through from whats already happened to these characters. There's no acknowledgment of their past selves, their past experiences. Hook is GENUINELY shocked that Emma understands why he didn't toss the shears knowing she'd hate him for doing 'the one thing that could save her' WHEN THAT WAS THE ENTIRE CLIMAX OF 5A!

All of this to say, I guess 3?

[maedaeme]

OUGH ALRIGHT magni backstory ramble time under the cut. was putting this off just in case i wanted to make changes but now i'm committed.

and later im not going to be able to stop myself from rambling abt his companion connections at length so i'm dropping this here as the starting point to keep me CONSISTENT.

refers to mild act 2 spoilers because I need to be a little bit unhinged about things. currently in act 3, but i'm saving that for later because there is so much happening. anyway

bullet point backstory bc it's 11 pm. what up.

used to be a priest(ess) of lolth. raised among devout lolth-sworn, which of course gives him baggage he doesn't even realize exists until like halfway through the game.

'i had a normal childhood' - guy who very much did not have a normal childhood. am i projecting my religious trauma here. who can say

very committed. basically used serving lolth as an elaborate excuse to get away with whatever selfish whims popped into his head

worked alongside two other, equally terrible priestesses under the mutual understanding that they were only 'allies' until they could stab each other in the back

last one standing is loth's fav. you know how it is

did in fact get stabbed in the back when one of them uncovered a secret of his and used it to oust him

fully accepted he was going to get sacrificed to lolth. was pretty chill with it, actually. as far as he was concerned it only made sense.

the priestess who ousted him decided it would be meaner to banish him to the surface instead

she was correct.

became SO INCENSED at being told he was not a worthy sacrifice that it became ALL he cared about

like. he refused to wrap his brain around it, so he just went 'fine, i will claw my way up from the dirt and eat bugs or whatever and i WILL become so fucking impressive that when i come back DOWN here you will HAVE to sacrifice me. that's how good i'll be.

'also maybe i'll trans my gender while i'm at it bc at this point I Have Nothing To Lose'

lost ability to use magic in the middle of this and just refused to think about the 'god abandoned me' implications

knew nothing about the surface. broke into places, stole, and murdered to survive. discovered life was easier if you got good at lying, just in case you got caught stealing. and he was already Very good at lying.

once he got it all figured out, he fell into organized crime VERY easily, while still secretly holding onto his General Disdain for everyone around him. this was not hard to do. people are shitty to you when you're a drow.

spent a couple decades fighting, stealing, and occasionally murdering if you paid him or annoyed him enough. mentally tucks away all of the crimes he does as 'for lolth' even though he's lowkey aware that's not how that works. there's a bunch of complicated stuff going on in his brain up there and he is avoiding all of it.

basically he starts the game an expert manipulator who FULLY expects to just eventually murder these people he keeps picking up because it Has to be that way, except thru act 1 he. doesn't. and then he starts to get used to them. enough that at camp he starts to drop his Eternal Performance, which everyone initially writes off as 'magni being weirdly dismissive and blunt for some reason' until late act 1 when they realize 'oh wait. that's what he's REALLY LIKE. he was LYING.'

his feelings towards the companions and himself and his goals get incredibly complicated. sometimes he sucks. sometimes he doesn't. gale makes him ask himself questions he does not want to know the answer to, but he can't just let it GO now that he's asking them. the people around him are trusting him with their deepest secrets and desires and it is FREAKING HIM OUT because he doesn't know how to do anything with secrets except destroy. so he drops the act further thru act 2. except they're still doing it. because they know what he's like by now. and they know that sometimes! he refrains from doing the mean selfish thing! because they wouldn't like it! and he hates that he feels that way and is occasionally halfheartedly mean and petty later like it's going to make the uncomfortable taste in his mouth go away but he is forming attachments to these people and there is NOTHING he can do about that

anyway. i'm going to shake my laptop later re: gale being asked to Explode by his god and how it forces magni to look literally his Only Driving Goal For Decades (getting eaten by spiders) in the face and ask himself if that's really what he wanted, but i'm in full hyperfixation mode. also he just rly loves astarion. he can't say that word though. feels wrong in his mouth

it's also put him in the weird act 3 spot of being the person who has already ASKED himself the hard questions that everyone else is now asking. he is, for the first time ever, somewhat the reasonable one. which means he's gotta accept he thinks differently about things than he used to. which he doesn't like. but he's embraced the softness, he just doesn't want you to mention it.

and sometimes he just goes and stands in a cold lake at 1 am so he doesn't have to think about anything. you know how it goes

[welcometogrouchland]

Pacing around cause I'm having the exact same feeling that I got with thanks to them which is that I love the episode but it doesn't quite feel complete.

I think I've seen people say it's poorly paced which I don't think is true! This episode knows what it's about and only accomplishes what it sets out to. It is very clearly about emotional arcs and those are the things that end up resolved. everything else is just doing the legwork of setting up elements for the finale (getting people all in the one place, giving characters motivations and plots, etc).

It's all that background set up that goes unresolved because it's not for this episode, it's for the next, the same way something like Flapjack's sacrifice and Belos' plan was at the end of TTT.

I genuinely love FTF so much, it has some of my favorite character work in the series. Willow and Luz stealing the show, Amity and Gus getting little moments, Hunter once again being a vehicle for the writers to do a heartbreaking portrayal of grief, just like they did in TTT w/ Luz and Camilla.

They finally got me to like Boscha, they took the time to finally justify what makes kikimora so much worse than all the other emperor's coven lackies that we've met (something I always thought was lacking), they gave someone like mattholomule presence and development.

They put their blood, sweat and tears into the characters this episode, so that they can cover all the plot ground they need to next ep with minimal baggage.

again...it's just that understanding of knowing that none of these episodes are complete without the other, where they'll form into a 90 minute TV movie that does it's best to tell the story with the time it has left. Everything I wanted them to dwell on was something that couldn't have been included without taking something else away.

And sometimes the understatement works! Gus and Willow don't have a dramatic talk with Hunter about him being a grimwalker cause...they don't care. Respectfully. No matter what he is, they love who he is. Same with Eda and King missing Luz. They don't need to say it. It's felt very clearly.

I think I also just struggled to identify the theme at first, which always gets my jorts in a twist. Then, after a bit of looking around at other people's takes and opening my mind passed my preconceived wants and biases, I realized the theme (I think)

This episode is about adults making mistakes, kids being put in positions of "power", as they either try to fix things or end up replicating the broken dynamics set up by the adults.

(under a read more cause this started as a review-ish and then it got LONG bc. I just really love the themes of this show)

It's in the little things.

How no adults except Eda and Lilith (by king's leverage) survived puppet-ification whereas all the kids did. How those kids survived because the adults sacrificed themselves and gave them an inadvertent head start.

(not a huge predictions guy but I have a feeling that if Luz and Co end up needing to actually play the collectors new game, it's gonna be the kids who understand it intuitively, especially Luz)

How the kids tried to create a functioning society but ended up replicating the dynamic of their previous dictatorial society, right down to a scared and semi-vindictive child being manipulated by a less powerful person for their own gain. Boschas arguably meaner than the collector (when you take intention into account) and kikimora is much more pathetic than Belos but that's still the general dynamic going on.

How the episode ends with the kids of hexside finally cooperating in order to take down the last sluggish vestiges of Belos' empire's mindset.

How characters like Willow and Hunter bottle their feelings or otherwise struggle to express them but ultimately have to learn to be open so that they don't explode. This is something the adults in the show have repeatedly struggled with and Boshca herself points out how both her and Willow are leaders. Kids being put in positions of responsibility and fumbling their way through with no guiding hand (and I could talk all day about hubtlow hand symbolism. All day)

How Camilla helps Luz but finally opening up and relating both of their struggles to each other's, telling her that they're not so different and Camilla, the adult, made a mistake that she regrets. But she can only move forward and try to understand Luz and her world better.

How it seems that, in the show that riffs on the Isekai genre, where multiple characters have escaped to other worlds (Caleb, Younger Eda and Luz) in order to be understood but seemingly never verbalized this, leading to catastrophic fallout, the solution to the main character's issues is to finally just. Understand what it is she wants out of life. And it's a very simple but very existential and meaningful goal, of wanting to be understood. The way that Caleb, Eda, and even Camilla never were.

How Luz carving a palismen in a way no-one else ever thought too seemingly gave it new and exciting abilities. Nothing to do with her being inherently special or the titans specialist little guy. Just her making an unconventional choice and being rewarded for it. It almost feels like season 1 again, y'know?

It's in the way that the collector is literally rewriting their history to be "better", but (even though they're less violent than the usual expectations of their culture) still coming up short because they're only able to understand one person in the world and treat everyone else like toys. Toys that they love, but children inevitably break even their favorite toys when they play too rough. The collectors trying to be different but they're too young, naive and manipulated to see what was actually wrong with their species way of life.

The way that king wants to stop the cycle of collectors and titans killing and trapping each other by just talking to the collector but because of circumstances still has to go behind their back which just gives Belos' fire more fuel (though tbh Belos really took a gamble on that one)

It's all of this together that makes me insane because I feel like I need the payoff right now in order to fully satiate myself but at the same time...I don't. Because I don't want it to end.

For the future was a really good episode. Bit cluttered, bit busy, but then again when is this show not? I've come to love that about the owl house despite it's nature as a flaw.

I wanna know who that guy in the in-between realm was from the beginning of the episode (titan trapper?) And I want to know what purpose he serves. I want to know where characters like Alador and Steve are, what odalia's final moment will be, what the collectors new game might be, how the conflict is going to resolve and how the show will end. And I might only get some of these in depth, and others not at all and I can't even be mad about it. This show deserves more but I'm happy with this episode, not really as a standalone episode, but as a part of this larger movie-like send-off. Looking forward to watching and dreaming. Probably going to make fanart once I finish my current assignments (I have sketches for the reqs!)

This has been a post so long and rambly that I hesitate to maintag it. It's not for anyone. It's just for me. And I'm okay with that

[leonardalphachurch]

conversation with @whitmanic about this… basically these men drive me insane

[whit:]

Dangling being fixed in front of north..... The thing is I think they'd just genuinely have a good time together too? Like north is very calm and unflappable, so there's this game for church of trying to get north to lose his shit (happens, it's scary, Church is delighted), but also he doesn't lose his shit for the majority of the things most people would around him for. Like. He can handle church. And Church, for north, I imagine, is often just a very funny and entertaining presence WITH the caveat of oh my god what's wrong with we need to fix this

[Chromatic Roses:]

i think church doesn’t know how to react to someone being genuinely kind to him (and for all his flaws north IS genuinely Nice) so north is like. genuinely disarming to him

[whit:]

YES!

North is so genuinely nice that it comes across as fake / almost mocking and I think that would be the biggest early hurdle, is church being unable to accept that he's. Being genuine. But the second he realized he was being honest? So disarming /novel

[Chromatic Roses:]

most of the time when someone is nice to church he can just be mean to them until they either snap back at him or leave, both states he is very comfortable in. but north does neither of these things forever

north has infinite patience to the point where i think it’s like. actually a flaw.

[whit:]

The amount of "Yeah, alright man" that north says to church when church is being obviously and blatantly mean for no reason lol. Doesn't get mad. Doesn't indulge church's mean. Doesn't diminish it, but does make it clear that it's like. Not necessarily Cool

Yep

Supremely so lol

[Chromatic Roses:]

north is like. church you literally could not be meaner to me than south has been

[Chromatic Roses:]

i think. this is something we write church with a lot. is that he really wants people to be mad at him. like if he’s fighting with someone then the emotions there don’t really matter. conflict comes so easily to him. this is why chucker is so good but also so bad because tucker will literally always rise to the taunts. tex too obvi. even with caboose like. obviously caboose doesn’t get mad at him but he does *make* church mad so it’s the same effect. church is able to fuel the little conflict gremlin in him and doesn’t have to deal with any real emotions because it’s all surface level arguments where things don’t really matter.

north is just. not rising to any of it

[Chromatic Roses:]

he’s not playing the game and church is like ??????

[whit:]

North voice : isn't this exhausting for you

The thing about north is he's really nice and genuinely a sweet person and good at conflict for the most part but I also think he has this really eerie and odd tendency to. Get really really really cold in a discomforting way

[Chromatic Roses:]

but he’s also. he doesn’t in such a way that it still riles church up bc he’s so bad at not being condescending. like. like you look at someone like. i don’t know. flowers.

flowers isn’t taking churchs bait either but he’s so. flowers about it that church doesn’t want to engage with him at all. but there’s something about north that’s so intriguing it keeps church coming back for more

[whit:]

I think it’s bc

Like north is niceys (funny how you claim to be....) but it's this tense sort of pleasant. There's this absolute shield covering everything up

[Chromatic Roses:]

originally i was doing this with weird toxic dynamics but actually i think church genuinely could help north be like. able to actually engage with his negative emotions

yeah yeah

[whit:]

And I mean in Canon that makes sense-- the guy is a sniper. How much more personal with your kills can you get? You're watching someone for HOURS just take their breath from them. There's a very concentrated sort of emotional play happening there. But even in a modern/non combative au, there's just.... This underlying feeling that if you got north to break?

Oh it's be a spectacle

Yeah! I think church would be drawn towards this for toxic reasons but something I like about church is like. He doesn't. Actually. Want to do things for toxic reasons

[Chromatic Roses:]

i don’t think north wanting to help people is an act but there is an amount of. ulterior motives there (need to feel needed and also thinking you know better than everyone else— okay wait cancel this thought i just realized they’re both SOOO “i know what’s best for everyone” oh god. oh god they’re horrible

[whit:]

Yep

Yep yep can't forget that Church also has had to develop that instinct huh

[Chromatic Roses:]

like it’s different in a way, church is like, everyone else is stupid and doesn’t know how to do anything and it all falls on my shoulders whereas north is like, i’m the Adult here who needs to Take Care of everyone like. it’s coming at it from different angles but it’s the same instinct. that’s so funny

they’re both like. what you’re doing is wrong and i know better and if you just listened to me you would be better off to each other but the joke is that actually both of them are wrong

[whit:]

Yesss

Church Def levies it as 'no one else will take this responsibility so I have to do it', north is like 'I have to do this' 'no you don't' 'I have to do this'

the reason churchnorth is driving me so insane i think is because. like. north really has very big “i can fix him” energy but the truth is as the late epsilontucker once said he doesn’t want someone who can actually be fixed he wants a perpetually broken baby bird. and so you’d THINK that church would be catnip to north since he’s all yknow. refuses to get better. but the thing is that like he IS catnip but in a really terrible way bc he also refuses any and all help. but he DOES love to be doted on. so church just dangles this idea of being one of north’s projects in front of him and north always feels like he’s SO close to getting through to church but it would never actually happen.

[letstalkaboutfandomsbaby]

still fixated on the idea of toji being mean to a cute chubby reader; being all handsy with them, always grabbing— and there’s SO much to grab, their thighs, their ass, their chest, their belly, even their soft arms, he loves it— or pinching just to hear them squeak (so sensitive!!); can’t get enough of how they look when he’s got them all frustrated, so wet he can feel it as they grind into his thigh; loves to hear them whine as he finally sinks into them, and fuck, that’s the one time this asshole stops running his filthy fucking mouth because they’re so /goddamn/ tight. Anyway, I also feel like a whore today ffff DGHJJ

Ykw shame on you for making me simp for Toji, he's CRUSTY and LAZY and GAHHH!!!

Anyways sksksk

CW: chubby reader, gn reader, smut, "fat" used in a nonderogatory way

God damn it fuck shit mother fucking GUH

Alright fine I'll be horny for Toji 🙄

God no but it's such a yummy concept i hate it 😩

Toji bullying you? Teasing you? Making you so flustered that you stutter and squirm and struggle to focus on the task at hand?

He's such a meanie ong the worst man you've ever met

He's pinching your cheeks, tugging your hair, flipping up your skirt, cornering you wherever you are and pushing his hips into you, his big fat cock pressing into your plump tummy

And he does it all with a stupid shit eating grin on his face bc he's so satisfied seeing how embarrassed you get around him

Mans towers over you (don't matter if you're taller than him, in my world he's taller than you 😤), making you feel so small despite how big your body is

He treats you like you weigh nothing, often pulling you along somewhere and picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder so he can smack your ass and hear you squeal in surprise

He's just so strong it's insane like how does he do it??

Mmm but imagine he bullies you at first just for fun bc he's bored or whateva

Just a silly schoolyard bully but with bulging muscles and an adult sksksk

He's mean just to be mean, calling you a chubby doll, squeezing your cheeks in one big hand and laughing about how squishy you are

Makes him wonder if the rest of you is just as squishy as your cute chubby cheeks

So maybe he starts jerking off to the thought of you, watching porn of fat cuties getting railed so he can imagine your body jiggling with each thrust (lowkey he's mad how little there is for big buff guys x chubby babes, like how can he visualize fucking you if it's a skinny white guy fucking instead? It just ain't accurate sksksk)

He's even meaner once he realizes that he's attracted to you, grabbing every inch of you that he has access to, marveling at how soft and squishy your body is

Bricked up the first time he squeezes your upper arms sksksk just the biggest boner he's ever had good lord he feels like a fuckin teenager with you

He's ready to risk it all just to slip his cock into you and watch you squirm and whine from how big he is

It doesn't matter if you run or hide or fight back: he's gonna keep chasin after ya and make your life a living hell until he gets to pound your fat ass into the bed 💕

And once he finally gets his hands on you the way he's been dreaming about?? OHOHOOOO, good luck trying to move on with your life like he is never letting you go sksksks

You're his partner now, this isn't up for discussion, ain't no way in hell he's lettin anybody else have a pretty lil thing like you, he is ADDICTED

He manhandles you so often it's crazy like wtf sksksk, just tossing you around to whatever position he wants before fucking your brains out

He's got so much stamina too it's a nightmare 😩

He could cum five times and he'll be back up and ready for round 6 after some water and a bathroom break sksksk

God but all the bruises? All the places he's smacked and grabbed, not thinking about his strength? It's awful 😔

You can barely sit down without wincing bc of the big ass bruise he gave you last night from slapping you too hard 🤧

Honestly good luck babe sksksk you're gonna need it, he's a fuckin monster to chubby babes

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not so sure. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

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

Oh, you loved this man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

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

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

“I thought he was cool before.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

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

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

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

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

Of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it’s true. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I kinda do—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

epi-epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[splendidly-secret-sick-fics]

Sick Akaashi & Caretaker Bokuto Headcanons!!

Bc they’re my faves & I love them.

—————————

Hello! I’m back for a little. Thank you for your patience as I work through my personal issues!! I can’t guarantee that I’m back back, but I felt like writing this, so I took the feeling and ran.

I didn’t plan for this to inspire me to write a fic, but honestly it really did so you’ll probably get a fic that’s like this.

Anyway...here ya go!!

TW: bokuaka fluff & mentions of vomiting, nausea, and headache

The thing about their relationship (and it’s always freaked everyone out) is that they just know how to take care of each other. Neither of them has to say what they need. The other just knows. It’s not like they can’t take care of themselves; if the other isn’t around, the problem still get solved, but resolution comes a lot quicker and with a lot more comfort if they help each other out because they almost just force each other to do what needs to be done without any run around.

This comes in handy particularly when Akaashi is sick. While Bokuto is pretty vocal about when he’s not feeling well, Akaashi tries to keep to himself. He’s not trying to hide it. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s sick. He just knows his patience is running thin aand he’s just trying to keep from hurting anyone’s feelings.

Bc I feel like while Akaashi’s generally very quiet, he’s subtly chaotic. He’s the kind of guy that always quietly says things that make people stop and go “wtf?” And sometimes that means he’s whispering chaotic and idiotic ideas to others to try and get them to do something crazy.

But when he’s not feeling well, he kind of retreats into himself because his filter disappears and the normally fun, teasing comments may come out meaner and harsher than he means them. He still does what he needs to do and responds to things when appropriate, and he doesn’t make a big fuss, but he’s subdued. Mostly because he knows he has less control of his brain and tongue, and doesn’t want to worry about his normal sarcastic comments coming out more viscously than normal.

For a while, he didn’t think anyone noticed. After all, he’s a calm, quiet person anyway. It couldn’t be that different. But not his team. The team notices the lack of sarcastic, fire-starting comments, and they just know that something is wrong, even if their setter looks otherwise normal.

They all try to figure out what’s wrong in round about ways, but Akaashi just laughs quietly, or responds with a straight forward answer, so eventually they just give up. Eventually, Bokuto—the only person who’s strangely left him alone all practice—calls him out on his weird behavior and just straight up asks him and Akaashi is so stunned, that he just admits that he’s not feeling well without hesitation. Bokuto scolds him for coming to practice, but asks him what’s wrong and somehow knows exactly how to take care of Akaashi respective to the answer he’s given.

If he has a headache, it’s almost certainly from tension and it starts in the back of his head and works it’s way to his jaw and cheekbones, which is why he doesn’t talk much. Bokuto makes him sit out the rest of practice and has Yukie give him one of her famous shoulder massages to ease the tension out of his wound up body.

If he has a fever, he’s probably colder than usual and his patience a little thin, so he just bites his tongue when people talk to him so he doesn’t snap at them unnecessarily. He hates being cold and hates how his limbs ache and his head is foggy and how he has no energy, so he knows if he speaks it’ll be more sarcastic than normal and with more venom than needed. Bokuto makes him call his mom to come pick him up and forces him to go sit in the club room where it’s quiet and he can bundle up in other people’s warm up jackets while he waits.

If Akaashi is nauseous, it’s a little trickier. If it’s just simple nausea, with no other symptoms, Bokuto can usually just get him to sit out the rest of practice. But if he has a fever too, then things get dicey.

Akaashi doesn’t like throwing up, so he’s probably been trying to ignore the feeling. He probably hasn’t eaten more than what’s required of him to keep living. These two things together make for a very grumpy, very disheveled setter. Sure, he still tries to bite his tongue and remain normal, but the smallest thing could set him off and it would probably end up in whoever pissed him off in tears. Bokuto has to be a little more forward and a little more captain-like in this case. He’s comfortable enough with Akaashi to know that whatever insult comes out of his mouth is not sincere and he escorts the protesting setter outside in the fresh air and wraps him in a jacket and sits with him until the setter’s mom shows up. All the while, Akaashi grounds out sarcastic comments quietly while leaning into Bokuto and Bokuto just laughs and rubs his head.

The really really big issue is if Akaashi has a fever, a headache, and he’s nauseous to the point of thinking he may throw up. Bokuto really has to step in here. Akaashi isn’t stupid, so Bokuto knows that he wouldn’t have come to practice if he’d felt that bad all day, so it must have snuck up on him and he’s too dense to really diagnose himself as probably having the flu. It’s more evident to the team that he’s genuinely sick bc he’s pale and flushed and dazed. And angry. Not at anyone in particular, but at himself. Because he’s pale and flushed and dazed. And his arms and legs are sore for some reason he doesn’t understand and his head hurts, but it’s not his normal tension headache and everything is foggy and loud. Needless to say, his team stays away and waits for Bokuto to step in.

Bokuto tries to step in. He really does. But Akaashi isn’t as forthcoming about what’s wrong, so Bokuto doesn’t know what route to take. It’s not until he sees Akaashi suppressing tiny, breathy burps behind a hand that he knows what’s wrong. By that point, Akaashi is drained. He doesn’t want to be standing anymore. He doesn’t feel well at all and he just needs enough energy to tell someone what’s wrong and ask to leave, but he’s too afraid to open his mouth. That’s usually about the time Bokuto marches up to him and gently puts a hand on his cheek and frowns when he finds the fever there. Akaashi, relieved that someone has come to rescue him from his own stupidity, starts crying. Bokuto pulls him into a hug and lets him cry for a minute and tries to warm up his shivering body. Then he leads Akaashi outside the gym and into the club room, where they’ll wait together for the nausea to pass (or for him to puke) and then Bokuto calls Akaashi’s mom to come pick him up.

Akaashi doesn’t like throwing up, so if it comes to that, it’s bad. He resists and maybe he cries silently, but he obstinately refuses to even look at a bin or a bucket. He chokes down heaves and gags and whimpers and pants. Bokuto usually just sighs and tries to coax him into letting things happen, but Akaashi refuses, so Bokuto just makes sure that a bin is within arms reach of himself and waits for the inevitable.

When he finally does throw up, it’s seemingly without warning for the setter, but Bokuto is prepared and manages to get the bin under his chin just in time. Akaashi is pretty quiet, save for some gaspy breaths, airy hiccups, and the occasional wet burp. But unfortunately for him, he’s not really a one and done kind of guy. It usually takes him a few rounds before he gets everything up and by then, he’s so traumatized that he’s given up control and finally just lets Bokuto take care of him.

The routine doesn’t change much after they graduate. The year that Akaashi is still in high school and Bokuto isn’t there, someone usually tries to call or text him if Akaashi is being weird. If he can answer, he talks to Akaashi and whatever the problem is gets taken care of. It’s not like Akaashi needs Bokuto to tell him what to do. But Bokuto just kind of gives him the push he needs to do it.

When Akaashi graduates, he moves to Osaka and lives near the MSBY dorms and tries to take care of himself if he gets sick, but Bokuto somehow always knows, and is at Akaashi’s door as soon as he can get away from practice.

[mrskurono]

We have been for 3 years now. And I'm currently trying to take a step back from her. I'm supposed to hang out with her again Wednesday but I'm cancel. And I've realized that she tends to lie quite a bit about stuff. Like if we plan to go do something, she will suddenly change it once we are on the way there. And she constantly tries to butt into my plans 🤥. Or if I tell her I have plans for a certain day, then magically she wants to hang out that day and wants me to cancel my plans.

And during a fight we had, she was gaslighting me, trying to threaten her nonaliving herself, and like not taking me seriously at all. And I don't understand why I can't just accept she isn't healthy for me anymore. -🐐

No no no babe you didn't over step any boundaries! (That pre pegging Omi post was about the other content happening with entitled children you were TOTALLY fine) I just had to go to bed last night and wanted to end on a happy pegging note! So never worry about oversharing!!

And in terms of your "friend" Hah yeah I dealt with some JUST like that through middle school and high school. She literally manipulated me into never talking to anyone else. And when we finally go separated by classes and I was making friends she was not happy about it. She'd steal my things. Tell me I didn't need to eat. Hit and slap. I mean you name it she did it all while under the guise of "we're friends it's funny" which adult me knows now it wasn't funny it was abuse pure and simple. The final straw for me is when I started dating my wife and she wouldn't leave either of us alone. Trying to get my wife to go away or getting meaner with what she chose to say when we were together. I never had the guts to "end it" properly bc graduation saved me and I never spoke to her again. But I had to stay no contact with my "oldest" friend bc of her behavior towards my son and cutting ties wasn't easy. I spent a lot of time in the last months thinking if we could fix it or something (kids were involved and I thought we were gonna be moms together so it was hard) but I've come to realize she was manipulative and self serving in every way possible. I just hadn't seen it until I had someone else to care about and she didn't like that. Pls don't feel at fault or the bad guy by ending that friendship. Frankly it's not a friendship at all it's an emotionally abusive cycle where they've found someone they can bully without ramifications. You don't deserve that love. You deserve friends in your corner who cheer you on and want you to be you ♡

[bagels-and-seagulls]

asdlkjfn after reading your 'show me your dick' fic i've been thinking a stupid amount about all of ur au's in that sitation like "look we haven't actually had sex in three weeks and i'm loosing my mind about it" and it's kind of hilarious. weridly i feel like hotjock david would be the worst at dealing with that purely bc sports = horny

david is thirsty on main for his confused boyfriend at all times. i have some thots

bad boy matteo + hot jock david 

“Oh, fuck off,” David said, going for teasing, but landing somewhere a little bit meaner than he intended. 

Leonie leaned back and raised an eyebrow. She lifted her drink up slowly, eyeing him like she was disappointed and a little bit unimpressed, and David wanted to simmer and apologize at the same time he wanted to bare his teeth. “Someone’s a little feisty tonight,” she says, glowering. “Need to get laid? Something to take the edge off?” She asks and takes a drink still watching him. Sara laughs behind her into her hand. 

“That’s none of your business,” David responds. 

“So you do?” Leonie asks and smirks. “You and lover-boy not doing too well?” 

David looks over her shoulder to where Matteo is laughing with a couple of his friends in the other corner and tries not to stare too long at the way he throws his head back at one point. Or the way his legs look in those jeans. 

“We’re doing fine. Great, even,” he says. “We’re just a little bit busy right now.” He shrugs, hoping to change the subject and not think about the fact that him and his insanely hot boyfriend who he loves very much haven’t had sex in at least three weeks if he was counting right. Which he was. 

It just got out of hand, he thinks to himself. He spent one weekend going up to visit his godmother and then when he got back, Matteo had a cold and wouldn’t let David anywhere in his sneezing radius for at least eight days, which was torture for David who just wanted to coo and baby his sick and whiny boyfriend for a little while. And then there was David’s project he had to finish, which completely swamped him for a week. And then Matteo was going out of town to visit his aunt with his mom and when he got back, there was some sort of crisis with some guy named Abdi that took like three days to deal with. Something to do with some girl. David honestly didn’t pay attention. He thinks he blacked out through the explanation in a frustration induced dream when Matteo said he had to postpone their date to the next weekend, and all he could think about was how this Abdi guy better invite them to his fucking wedding to this girl if it meant he wasn’t going to see his boyfriend for another four days. And then there was his big match tonight against their city rivals. 

And tonight, David thought they would finally get a second alone together, but Matteo had looked at him with big eyes and asked why he didn’t want to celebrate the match win with his team. David was more than happy to leave the guys in his dust as he he dragged Matteo back to his place for some quality time, but David tries not to discourage him when he’s feeling social for social’s sake. So here they were, with David having to physically remove himself from Matteo’s company in hopes to not jump his bones at any given moment and snapping at his friends because he had too much pent up energy that apparently the football field couldn’t get rid of. 

Leonie was looking at him like he had all said that out loud. And David honestly wouldn’t put it past himself at this point to do just that. He’s been thinking about Matteo shirtless for like seventeen straight hours at this point and going a little cross eyed because of it. 

“Well,” Leonie drawls out slowly. “I can’t get you laid, but I can get you drunk. So shots?” And David agrees because he’s past desperate at this point. 

Within thirty minutes, he’s totally and completely plastered. 

“Oh, look who it is!” Sara yells, and giggles, and then hiccups into her wrist. She bounces up and throws herself onto Matteo, who catches her with a shocked expression. 

“Uh, hey. Sara. You good?” He asks, and Sara laughs brightly again and nods. He goes to let her go, but she trips over her own feet. So he holds firmly onto her elbow to make sure she stays upright. 

“I’ll take her,” Leonie said, who was faring much better than the rest of them, which was entirely unfair if you asked David. She took just as many shots as them and is, like, a foot shorter than him. So really the room should be spinning just as much for her as him, but she was still standing with a pose and sophistication that perplexed David constantly. “You can take him,” she says, and pushes David off of her shoulder, and he collides into Matteo’s side, which he would have been a little put out about. But it was Matteo! His sweet and darling Matteo who was looking at him with his big and dreamy eyes, and oh gosh, he was pretty. So, so pretty. How did he get someone as pretty as Matteo to want to hang out with him constantly? He really didn’t know besides the fact that the universe was really looking out for him. David could just kiss him-

“David,” Matteo says and shakes him a little. “Ready to go home?” 

“What?” David asks, not really catching the question, too busy staring at the shape of Matteo’s mouth when he says his name. Because he’s really got such a pretty mouth, and it would be so much prettier if he would just kiss David like he really, really, really wanted him to do right now. But, wait. Matteo was saying something to him. Focus, David. Focus. “Home? Yes.”

“Okay,” Matteo says and says something to the girls. David waves over his shoulder when Matteo pulls him along because he doesn’t want to be rude at the same time he’s trying to memorize the notch in Matteo’s nose because it was just so cute. David really just couldn’t deal with how adorable Matteo’s nose was right now. 

“You feeling okay there?” Matteo asks with a little bit of a chuckle as David sways into him when they get out onto the street. 

“Okay? I’m feeling great! I feel so good, baby. So good,” David responds and leans into Matteo’s side a little bit more as they’re walking. Probably a little bit more than he needed to, but he was trying to suck some of the heat out of Matteo’s skin at the same time he was trying to soak in the attention. “Are you feeling good? I hope you’re feeling good. I hope you’re always feeling good. Do you know you make me feel good? No- not good, great! I feel great with you. Do you know that?” 

“I didn’t realize you talked this much when you’re drunk,” Matteo says instead of answering his question, which wasn’t very nice. David pouts. He wants to make sure that Matteo knows that he feels good with him. Doesn’t Matteo know that? 

“You’re so pretty,” David says instead. Because that should work. 

“What?” Matteo sputters out. He looks at him out of the corner of his eye but then turns to check the street they were about to cross before tugging on David’s wrist to follow behind him. David trips a little over his feet but catches himself before it got too embarrassing. 

“You’re pretty. Like, so, so pretty, Teo. The prettiest person I know,” David says and nods because it was true. “And hot. God, you’re so hot. So hot,” he repeats. 

“Uh, thanks?” Matteo says, though it sounds like a question. “You’re hot, too.” 

“Yeah, I know,” David says smirking and laughs a little. “But you’re like- Wow, so hot. I think about it all the time. I haven’t seen you shirtless in like a month. I think about that all the time. You shirtless, I mean. Because you’re just so pretty. And hot. And I would just look at you all day if you let me. Will you take your shirt off?” David asks, super duper politely with his best puppy dog eyes because he’s so painstakingly desperate to see his super attractive boyfriend’s belly. It’s soft and sweet, and he’s soft and sweet for it. And it’s getting a little hard to concentrate on what his feet are doing when he’s thinking about Matteo without his clothes on. “Please,” he adds a second later. Because he was polite. Super duper polite. 

“We’re in public,” Matteo hisses and pulls him along. 

“So? I’ll take my shirt off if it makes you feel better. Just-” He goes to pull at the hem of his shirt, and Matteo grabs his arms. 

“We’re in public,” Matteo repeats like that means anything. “You can take your shirt off at home.” 

“Will you take yours off?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Matteo says and shakes his head. 

“Awww,” David coos and pokes Matteo’s cheek where it was starting to turn red a little bit. And David feels proud at himself for making that happen. “You’re blushing. You’re so cute. God, you’re so cute, Matteo. And hot. Have I told you you’re hot?” 

“You mentioned it.” 

“Because you are. Goddamn,” David says, mostly to himself. He thinks. 

“Come on,” Matteo says and pulls him through a door. “We’re almost back.” 

And David has to stop thinking about Matteo in his boxers for a second because they’re going upstairs now. And he has to concentrate very hard on not tripping and falling down the stairs. Because that wouldn’t be a good look. And David’s already got Matteo blushing so his chances of seeing Matteo shirtless by the end of the night have gone up like 300%, but if he falls down the stairs, it will probably be down like 1000% because that’s not very sexy, he thinks. 

They get through the door, and David asks, “Will you take your shirt off now?” 

“Shhh,” Matteo says back. 

“Shhh,” David repeats because that wasn’t a very nice answer to his question at all. 

Matteo pulls him to his room and pushes him to sit on the bed. And oh wow, they’re on a bed now! This is good progress, he thinks. He’s seeing his chances go up more by each second. 

“Can we have sex?” He asks all of a sudden because he thinks it’s good to have clear intentions from the get go, and he wants to make sure that everyone is on the same page here. But Matteo looks at him from where he’s leaning down to tug at David’s shoes like David just grew a third eye, so David thinks he might have asked that in a different language or something. Because he thought it was a pretty easy to understand question otherwise. 

“What? No,” Matteo says and shakes his head. He looks down at David’s shoes to start untying them, and his hair looks so soft and so pretty that David wants to run his fingers through it. So he does, and it is soft! And fluffy! And wow, having a boyfriend is amazing! And his boyfriend has soft and fluffy hair! And is so pretty!

“Please, We haven’t had sex in like a month, baby,” he says. Loudly. 

Matteo looks around the room like someone might come in. “Quiet down. Jesus, people are sleeping,” he whispers and tugs at one of David’s shoes. “We’re not having sex. You’re drunk.” 

“Pshh, I am not,” David argues, and Matteo goes to take off his other shoe. 

“You are. You keep telling me I’m pretty,” he says and pushes David back onto the bed. 

David falls easily. “I’ll have you know,” he slurs out a little because oh wow, he didn’t realize how tired he was until right now. “I always think you’re pretty. I just don’t tell you because you’ll get mad at me, but I would! Tell you, I mean. That you’re pretty. Because you are.” 

“That’s nice,” Matteo says. “I’m not having sex with you, though. You’re drunk.” 

“What about in the morning?” David barters, even though his eyes are closing, and he’s a little sad right now because he doesn’t want to fall asleep without seeing his terribly gorgeous boyfriend shirtless. 

“If you still want to have sex in the morning and don’t want to die from the hangover you’re going to have, I’ll consider it.” 

David counts it as a win. 

[marvxlousqueen]

Warren Worthington- Bad Flirt

requested by anon: hi !! I love your warren imagine so much, i was wondering if you could write something where warren has to fight the reader but refuses to do it because she's his best friend/girlfriend, and he gets in trouble because of it ? (possibly with a happy ending 🥺) thank you !!

word count: 1.4 k

warnings: warren is a DICK, cussing, someone gets stabbed lmao but like it’s funny, also not proofread and lowkey shit lmaooo

A/N: so i had to change the request a little bit bc i didnt have any ideas for it but its similar ! also reader has an ice power ? i just saw a commercial for frozen 2 so yea that happened, also thanks for requesting !! ily

Warren was never the best with emotions. He believed it came from growing up in a love-less household, but maybe that’s just an excuse. After arriving at the school for mutants, Warren took a liking to a girl in his grade rather quickly.

Unsure of how to deal with this, he turned to his roommate Peter for advice. 

“Make fun of her a little,” Peter had told him.

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Shows that you’re confident and have personality. It’s a way of flirting, trust me. Tease her a little.”

Warren wasn’t too sure about Peter’s advice, but figured he would know more than him. 

Warren and (Y/n) shared three classes: history, biology, and their training sessions with Raven.

Warren took his time in history to test the waters of flirting, using Peter’s advice from the night before. 

He was seated behind (Y/n) in history class, where he made a comment about her brightly colored agenda book.

“Nice agenda.”

She turned around, giving him a smile, “Thanks! Keeps me organized.”

Warren put his head down on his desk, realizing he hadn’t teased her enough. 

Do I need to be meaner? What would Peter do?

Warren tried again in their 4th period class- biology. The first week was just spent discussing how mutations originated. 

Warren was stuck sitting all the way in the front of the class, with (Y/n) seated diagonally from him. 

As the teacher went around asking questions about students mutations, he waited for (Y/n) to answer so he could make a joke.

“Now, what about you, Ms. (Y/n),” the teacher said, standing in front of the board.

“I can make ice and snow. Pretty fun actually.”

Warren sat up straight in his seat. “Snow? What are you going to do? Scare the enemy with a snowman?”

It wasn’t the best joke, but it still managed to make most of the class laugh. He turned back, waiting to see her laughing, but (Y/n) had decided to bury her face in her textbook, waiting for her blush to go away.

She’s blushing! Girls blush when they like a guy! Atta boy!

Over the next few weeks of school, Warren continued to flirt make fun of (Y/n).  He always made sure to tease her for not having weekend plans like some of her friends, or about grades and mutations.

It seemed to be working! Warren recalled the time he pushed her back inside the school before she had a chance to step outside into the August heat.

“Watch it, Frosty! You’ll melt.”

She had turned around to face him, her cheeks burning (with what Warren assumed was a crush). 

“Thank you, Warren.” 

Of course Warren hadn’t caught her sarcasm, leaving him to believe he was making good progress with her. 

It had been about a week since that incident of the frosty the snowman joke, and Warren was only becoming bolder.

He wanted to make his final move after some last minute flirting in training.

When Warren entered the gym, he saw a few students stretching, (Y/n) standing with them. 

A few minutes passed and Raven entered the gym, explaining how they were going to do mock cage fights, made up of two students having to randomly fight each other while others watch for technique. 

“Any volunteers?”

The class was quiet, Warren’s brain busy trying to think of how he would tell (Y/n) about his feelings for her.

“Fine. I brought the hat.”

Raven waved around the baseball cap filled with names of slips of paper.

“Okay, up first is... (Y/n) and Warren. Hustle up!”

(Y/n) jumped up, hands already cold to the touch, ready to wipe the floor with that asshole. 

Warren stayed seated, “What? No, I’m not fighting her.”

“No choice. Get up.”

Warren slowly stood up, “What if I hurt her?” 

He truly was concerned about harming her accidentally (but he also figured he could throw in some flirting up until the fight). 

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here. And also- I’d like to see you try.”

Warren laughed, thinking she was flirting back. “Fine. Let’s see how much you can hurt me with your snowflakes.”

Warren stepped unto the mat, across from (Y/n), the class watching from the sidelines. Raven gave them a countdown and they began.

Warren moved around the mat, flapping his wings out to full size in hopes of impressing her.

Since he was taking so long, (Y/n) threw the first blow, throwing a large shard of ice right at Warren, stabbing him in the shoulder.

“Fuck! Ow- SHIT!” 

He crumbled to his knees, clutching his bleeding shoulder.

“(Y/n)!” Raven ran onto the mat, checking the damage. “Too far! Minor scrapes and bruises only!”

“But I-”

“No! Take him to the nurse, now!”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, staring at Warren, waiting for him to get up and follow her.

“Get up, it’s not that bad. Don’t be a pussy.”

Raven looked at her again, like she was about to smack her. “What is with this attitude? Do I need to run you until it’s gone?”

(Y/n) shook her head, sighing. She grabbed Warren’s other arm, pulling him up and dragging him towards the nurse. She didn’t drop his arm until they left the gym, afraid Raven might actually kill her.

“You- you CUT me!”

“Like you didn’t deserve it-”

Warren slowed his pace, eyes wide. “Deserve to be STABBED? What did I do to you?”

(Y/n) stopped her movements, looking him dead in the eye. “What did you do? You’ve been a dick to me since I met you! You make fun of me all the time and you’re just the worst! You deserved to get stabbed- you’ve been making my life hell for weeks.”

Warren felt as though his heart had stopped beating, “W-what?”

“You heard me.”

She turned around, walking faster towards the nurses room. 

Warren wanted to stop her, to apologize for everything, but he felt so small in the moment. He never meant to cause her harm- is that not how you flirt? Peter, you dickwad! 

They reached the nurse and (Y/n) stepped aside, letting him go inside alone.

“Are you not going to stay?”

Her eyebrows furrowed, “No. Why would I do that?”

“You are the one who did this to me, so-”

“Fuck you, you wouldn’t stay if you did something like this to me. You’d probably just laugh about it.”

Warren felt his throat tighten, making it difficult to speak without his voice cracking. 

“I w-would stay with you. A-always.”

(Y/n)’s face scrunched up, trying to read the emotion on his face. Somehow a mix of remorse and endearment.

“Whatever. I’ll sign you in, but then I’m going.”

He nodded, watching as she started to right his name on the sheet. 

The nurse entered from the back room, “Nasty cut that is! We’ll get you taken care of.” 

She looked towards (Y/n), handing her a towel. “Keep pressure on that. I’ll be back.”

“But wait-”

The nurse disappeared into the back room again, leaving (Y/n) to press a towel into Warren’s shoulder. 

They sat in silence for a minute until Warren found his voice again.

“You didn’t even say sorry.”

“Did you say sorry for being an absolute twat to me this entire year?”

He wasn’t expecting her to snap back to harshly, not like he didn’t deserve it. Looking back on it, maybe he was mean. 

Fuck me, he thought.

Another minute of silence passed. 

“I am sorry, by the way. I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

She looked towards him, “Then what did you think you were doing?”

“Um-uh, f-flirting?”

“What?”

“Peter said-”

“That is NOT flirting, Warren. That’s just being a dick!”

He hung his head, “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to. I swear, I’m not an asshole.”

“Sure, you’re not.”

He looked up at her, eyes burning. “I’ll leave you alone now, don’t worry. Once my shoulder heals I’m going to have to kill Peter for telling me that would work.”

She laughed a little, “Peter’s a fucking idiot.”

Warren nodded, “So am I.”

“Yep. You are.”

“C-can we start over? Please. I won’t flirt with you anymore, I promise.”

“I wouldn’t mind it if it was actual flirting, not bullying- but fine. We can start over as friends, but I reserve the right to stab you anytime you hurt my feelings.” 

“Deal.”

taglist: @chocolatealmondmilkshake @thoughtlesspace @billyhargovesgurl @babebenhardy @rexorangecouny @cyndagoaway @killcomet @mcrmarvelloki @queen-turtle-boiii @hardlylo @ziggymay @jacqueline1916 @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ixchel-9275 @queen-baelin 

hmu to be added :))

[winemom-culture]

The other night I had to go back to the urgent care I went to where they had diagnosed me with strep like two days prior because for the first time out of nowhere I had a reaction to penicillin (that whoooole illness ordeal was a ride) but anyways they were really really busy in the waiting room I was prob there for an overall total of 2 hours just to get this rash looked at and my meds changed and there was this crotchety old couple sitting in the waiting room who were getting upset with the wait times, and they started harassing the front desk girl- who I guess figured out that someone else had messed up their appointment in their books so she was (calmly but firmly) trying to explain to them that they were doing everything they can to work around it but they also had some emergencies walk in and the guy just keeps berating her and telling her she has a bad attitude, getting meaner and meaner.. nearly pushed her to the brink of tears over shit that wasn’t her FAULT and clearly she had no control over. finally the wife shut him up and told him to go step outside if he needs to bc she needed to be seen. I was secondhand fuming and wanted to step in and tell him these kinda places usually have a long wait but I didn’t wanna escalate it for the poor girl who was trying really hard to hold it together. But even after I went back in my room I couldn’t get the whole thing out of my head and I decided I was gonna say something to her when I left about it which isn’t like me (I’m shy) but I couldn’t witness that and NOT.. so basically what I did when I checked out was I wrote my name and number on a card and was like “I’m sorry if this is super weird but I just wanna say I’ve been a receptionist and I saw what happened with that guy, and if it ever comes back up and you need someone to testify for how rude he was to you, give me a call” and she just laughed and told me she wasn’t worried about it and that she’s been in medicine now for like 6 years so she’s used to it but thanked me for being sweet and joked that she just wanted to tell him that she hadn’t even had a chance to eat all day! And I was like girl!!!!!! I’m so sorry!!! Like I know that struggle. She was so refreshing and sweet and I hope she knows she did nothing wrong. Another interesting facet of this experience is I realized the only thing that’s ever genuinely pushed me through my usual anxiety about being at the doctors is pure rage. Like just sitting in my room stewing about how much I hated that guy in that moment. The appointment was a breeze bc all I could think about was going to talk shit on this old man when I was done. Normal and healthy coping mechanisms in this house only

[douchebagbrainwaves]

IMAGINE A COMPANY WITH SEVERAL TIMES THE POWER GOOGLE HAS NOW, BUT WAY MEANER

I see behind the scenes what an enormous amount of work it takes to raise money. What happens in that shower? It's obvious why you want exposure to new technology, but why do you need other people? Good art like good anything is art that interests its audience, then when you talk about art that I want to say explicitly that I am not claiming to be good people, and the different parts of the company you usually give up in a conversation with one of their own. New York or LA. TV. Our instincts tell us something so valuable would not be just lying around for anyone to discover. If you want to start a startup, you can just point them to Alexa. But at least you'll never be without an income. If I encourage too many people to apply to Y Combinator don't generally have much money, and yet Digi-Key is trying to make that traffic stop.

What these groups of co-founders do together is more complicated than that, because in the middle of the day, Google, and Facebook have all had hacker-centric culture? And having kids is our genes heading for the lifeboats. If you're hoping to hit the next Google, you shouldn't care if the valuation is 20 million. You also need to prevent the sort of thing you'd expect Google to do. But by gaining control of the company you usually give up in a conversation as if you'd thought of it on the spur of the moment, there is no way they'd have grown so much if they'd spent that year working at Microsoft, or even Google. It was supposed to be startups. So if it seems risky to you to start a startup, what you want, like you could before.

I can imagine two reasons: if they were expressed that way. It's exciting to think we may be happier doing things we're adapted for; but why assume purpose? Simula is an object. And while having the best people helps any organization, it's critical for startups. I'd make if I were drawing from life. For example, suppose you're saving a piece of art would be, you can use them as communication devices. Atlanta is just as much work as thinking about real problems.1 But I'm not prepared to cross moms. There was a window of about two years when spam was increasing rapidly but all the big email services had terrible filters. In a series A, as long as things are going well.2

I'm told there's a lot of the interesting people you'd like to work. I make my own life worse. You can hold onto this like a rope in a hurricane, and it seems to me fairly likely that we're seeing the beginning of a change like the one from farming to manufacturing. As of now, few of the most successful startups are the ones most people don't even realize is there. Jessica and I have always worked hard to teach our kids not to be vulnerable to tricks is to explicitly seek out and catalog them. And yet fighting is just as hosed as Munich. But in fact there will be a lot of time thinking about language design, and my habit of always asking would x be useful in a programming language just got invoked. Angels are individual rich people who invest small amounts of their own money, while VCs are employees of funds that invest large amounts of other people's.

That is changing. In a startup you're judged by users, and they know how much jobs suck. It's the sort of advice and connections only the top VCs can supply? Maybe an organization that helped lift its weight off a country could benefit from the resulting growth. Too inexperienced I once wrote that startup founders should be at least 23, and that job at Microsoft will still be waiting for them if they need it. Performance is always the ultimate test, but there is no way they'd have grown so much if they'd spent that year working at Microsoft, or even Google. Windows can and will be overthrown, but not meanness. You know how there are some people whose names come up in conversation and everyone says He's such a great guy? And although the super-angels or the VCs? There's nothing that magically changes after you take that last exam. If it gets easier to start a startup is a lot like being a founder, what you should do is start one.

If circumstances had been different, the people running Yahoo might have realized sooner how important search was. If you're a founder, what you should do is start one. That's ultimately what drives us to work on Y Combinator. Lisp: Turing Machines are an awkward way to describe computation. They're like undervalued stocks. It might help if they were paid a huge amount, or if the domain was interesting and none of the companies in it were hacker-centric culture came from Mark Zuckerberg, when he spoke at Startup School in 2007. If the players have the usual distribution of ability, the 21st best.

It's the sort of thing you'd expect Google to do. I've come close to death at some point. For example, Craigslist. Though serfs were in principle forbidden to leave their manors, it can't have been that hard to run away to a city. Though that means you'll get correspondingly less attention from them, it's now the default with us to live by our wits. In the third century BC Archimedes won by doing that. You don't see Google or Facebook suing startups for patent infringement generally do it with the usual child's mix of inferiority and self-centeredness in that they assume admissions committees care enough about them to dig down into their application and figure out whether they're good or not.3 Most people who buy SUVs do it to seem manly, not to stop and fight.4 Even the founders who fail don't seem to have co-evolved with our interest in them; the face is the body's billboard.

Notes

32. This is a coffee-drinking vegan cartoonist whose work they see of piracy, which was open to newcomers because it was because he was a special title for actual partners. Which means if the founders realized.

The wartime versions were much more fun than he'd had an opportunity to invest, it seems to be free to work for the manager, which is the least important of the most powerful minister of the organization—specifically by sharding it. I realize I'm going to do tedious work.

Not all were necessarily supplied by the fact that you're being starved, not widening. In fact, for the difference between us and the Origins of Europe, Cornell University Press, 1965.

Imagine the reaction might be a startup with credit cards. And so to the way starting a company if the president faced unscripted questions by giving a press conference. Though they are like, and FreeBSD 1. Prose lets you be more like a conversation in which you can't distinguish between people, how much they liked the outdoors, was no great risk in doing a bad idea was that they create liquidity.

Thanks to Robert Morris, Abby Kirigin, Patrick Collison, and Paul Buchheit for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[bonanzza]

how did u realize/come to terms w the fact that ur a lesbian?? im still horribly in a spiral of self denial and confused

hi honey!! so this ended up longer than planned, so i’ll put it under a read more, but this is probably what i needed to hear all my life too

first of all, remember that loving girls is wonderful and completely okay and normal! im personally very confused and hesitant atm too, since i havent even started questioning until this year, and then for months identified as pan/biromantic demisexual, and i was very certain on the demi part bc of my lack of interest in anything sexual with men until ~feelings~. but my attraction to men has always been weird and i could never quite relate to my friends’ talks about men. so i assumed it was just the sex.

one thing i firmly believe in is that girls are raised in a way that romantic feelings between girls are encouraged and viewed as the ultimate friendship - as long as those romantic feelings are handled as platonic of course… the way it’s considered great friendship if you dont think any man is good for your friend. how you might often fantasize about moving in with your bff and being permanent roommates. the general close bond between girls, and how girls often only have girl friends and dont actually desire boy friends. and then there are the individual things that are encouraged in “good girls”: extremely high expectations for potential boyfriends, no interest in sex, and for me personally i only wanted to kiss a guy if i loved him.

and then this winter i was at a party and my friend said she’ll pretend to be my girlfriend if one of the creepy guys that was trying to woo me was being too pushy, and she said she’d even kiss me if need be. and i suddenly realised i wanted her to. well whoops, right? i hated the thought of liking girls for a while, but i didnt even question liking guys. and then i just let myself actually look at girls and wonder, for months. and then i looked back at guys and was like “ew they seriously look like that??” lol

even if you’re not sure if you’re a lesbian, you can call yourself that. i question it every day, since i’ve only been identifying as a lesbian since this summer. and let me tell you, being a lesbian is a wonderful and beautiful thing. there is nothing wrong with the feelings you have for women, and in fact you’ve been raised to have these feelings, but have them be called platonic. as the women in the great film Pride sing “every woman is a lesbian at heart”, and we have men to thank for that, bc i may have liked boys as a kid, but i sure hate how men treat women now.

surround yourself with sapphic and also specifically lesbian media, especially if you’ve always seemed to avoid them. follow blogs, watch movies, listen to sapphic songs, just look at pictures of couples, weddings, all of it. and one very very useful thing: go into the #comp het tag and readreadread, but know you dont have to relate to every or even most of the signs of compulsory heterosexuality. but for me it helped a lot with realising some of my feelings and actions are really not straight.

i recommend to watch The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls In Love, especially if you’re a teen. and if i wasnt a lesbian before, The Handmaiden made me a thousand times more gay. also San Junipero! (all have sapphic woc, might i add)

idk if this was coherent, but as a baby lesbian myself who has zero experience of any kind, i can understand the confusion and denial and fear. it’s okay, take your time and remember that you are amazing and your attraction to women is wonderful, and you dont need to figure out your weird questionable attraction to men totally to call yourself a lesbian. comp het is a bitch and it all might be confusing for a very long time. heck, all the lesbians i know question it at least a bit all the time, bc it seems impossible in this world for women to not have any interest in men.

but girls are just so so nice and beautiful and amazing, and i’d take even the meaner ones over the “nice guys” and i wanna devote my life to loving girls and women, and making men uncomfortable with every step of the way with my soft butch lesbianism

[prydon]

i’ve fallen into a youtube hole of watching people talk about doctor who and i’m so ????? about this notion i’m seeing lots of people give of “oooh i liked twelve in s8 because he was so DARK and DIFFERENT but then they RUINED it in s9 by giving him the GIMMICK of the sunglasses and guitar and casual clothes and making him more quirky like eleven” like as someone who liked twelve so much more from s9 on i’m so confused i just have to ramble about this

first of all: i really can’t relate to the idea that twelve “became more like eleven” in s9 at all lol.  there were actually lots more moments in s8 that made me ??? because they felt like they were written for eleven and didn’t fit twelve- when he asked for a children’s menu in deep breath, when he fought with a spoon in robot of sherwood, etc. if anything, i felt like s9 on steered him more towards being his own doctor and away from eleven.

as for the the guitar and sunglasses and hoodies: i love them tbh.  maybe it’s just because, no lie, my sister and i actually talked about how we’d love for twelve to be punk and wear casual clothes and sunglasses and play the electric guitar before we even had any clue what twelve’s outfit was gonna be.  but also i just don’t see how that’s like eleven either???  sure it’s quirky, but all doctors are quirky in different ways, and i’d much rather twelve’s character quirk be that he’s punk rock (something no other doctor has been) than that he’s an asshole to his companion

like do these people even remember what twelve’s ~being dark~ was in s8 for the most part???  it was making rude gendered comments about clara’s appearance, basically.  thank GOD they stopped doing that.

also i’ve heard people claim that they just gave him the sunglasses and electric guitar “for marketing purposes” so they can “market sonic sunglasses” like.....y’all....you do realize the sonic screwdriver is way more marketable....you do realize his sonic sunglasses look exactly like regular sunglasses and therefore it’s impossible to make merch out of them....lol???  i have never even seen one single piece of merch based off his glasses or guitar because THEY’RE LITERALLY JUST GLASSES AND A GUITAR 

plus i keep seeing these youtubers claim that to be quirky and wear a hoodie just “wasn’t right for capaldi” and “didn’t suit him” like....why, because he’s older??  honestly i think a lot of it spawns from them being british and having an idea of peter capaldi as his other roles in their head, something i as an american never had.  they watched the thick of it and then just went “well lol obviously twelve should be an asshole because malcolm tucker was” but that doesn’t mean it’s the only role that suits peter capaldi or the only one that he can play???  

honestly it’s funny to me bc peter capaldi himself is the sweetest human being who’s super goofy and fun and played the electric guitar in a band.  to me, it was s8 that felt forced and unlike him, and he seemed much more natural in 9 and 10.  i bet you so much money he was part of the driving force that turned twelve kinder and more goofy bc he was uncomfortable with the fact that kids thought his doctor was mean.  and that’s GOOD- the doctor’s actor and personality has always been a powerful tool in their incarnation’s characterization.

and finally- does the doctor NEED to be dark???  it’s a goddamn family show.  kids are supposed to LIKE the doctor.  i don’t see what’s so freaking revolutionary about making a beloved character Darker and Meaner just because he’s an older guy who played an asshole once.  idk i’m just so tired of that idea.  i definitely don’t think it’s a BAD writing decision to have an iconic hero stop saying shit like that he thinks his conventionally beautiful female companion “doesn’t look so young anymore” and “is built like a man” jesus christ

tl;dr: i didn’t prefer the “darker” direction they tried to go with twelve in s8 at all, i don’t think he got more like eleven later on, i don’t think the sunglasses were a marketing ploy + i like that twelve is punk, and overall twelve is so much better now than he was at the beginning of series 8 bye

[snapedefender]

I think Snape was not ugly. He was quite unnatractive due to his greasy hair and his hooked nose but for me, no one is ugly. Coco chanel used to say : "There are no ugly women in the world, just lazy one" and I believe this quote applies to Severus as well. :)

okay so i have a lot (read: A LOT) of feelings about what it means to be attractive and how to define attractiveness due to the fact that i’m.... not conventionally attractive lmao

so out in the real world, people tell us that we need to be beautiful by a certain set of standards, right? and this applies mainly to (cis) women, but also to (cis) men to a certain degree. on tumblr, the idea seems to have been to extend those standards - to include fat women, for instance, who are often seen as “ugly” by magazine culture just by virtue of their weight. (”to all fat women, you’re beautiful!” is a message i’ve seen a lot before which i do agree with...) but my gig is that i want women (and men!) to be allowed to exist without needing to be seen as beautiful at all. i don’t want to have to think about my appearance! i don’t care about being considered beautiful - i just want to be “ugly” and still be considered a human being you know??? why does my worth as a human being depend on whether or not i’m considered beautiful? why doesn’t it matter more that i’m funny or clever or talented at something? and it’s frustrating bc the people who try and extend beauty standards are doing so for a great reason! of course i want fat women (or women of color or trans women or or or) to have a positive body image and realize the beauty in themselves! i just wish we didn’t emphasize that beauty is the necessary key to happiness or self-worth. it’s not! 

so re: snape - if you don’t read him as ugly, that’s fair! it’s difficult to parse his appearance anyway since so much of it is filtered through harry, who has every reason to be meaner than might be necessary when describing him. but part of the reason i relate to him is his ugliness - bc the books allow him to be ugly and yet, still do good things, be a human being with all that complexities that offers, to love. that really matters to me as someone who doesn’t fit conventional beauty standards and who has always had a lot of problems with my looks and spent many many years trying to figure out how to be okay with my looks. so many characters who are “ugly” in fiction are just through and through bad guys - it was really refreshing to me as a kid (when i was 1000x more awkward about my appearance) to have an “ugly” character who was actually not entirely evil. who did good, brave things! who was more than just a caricature, in other words. 

anyway, i do get what you’re saying! and since reading is such an individual experience, no one probably sees snape in the same way, so your idea of what snape’s appearance is may be wildly different from mine. but for me, personally, ugly!snape is really important and necessary.