#HOW DID ANYONE READ A SINGLE THING I EVER SAID

[ultimatefartwizard]

NOT FUCKING AGAIN! THE MUSICAL ( TF EARTHSPARK MESSAGES AND MANDROID'S GENOCIDAL HORRORS EDITION)

Holy shit I am losing my mind... @monocle-teacup you better read this <3 (dead serious though cuz wtf)

Also of course as always, spoilers ahead this time for season 2 of earthspark so dont want it? skedaddle (s2 isnt worth caring about though, trust me)

Also again nobody go witchhunting or harassing anyone, this is discussion of media and someones poor takes on some clear themes in a show.

Okay you're using THE TERRIBLE WRITING OF S2 TO PROVE YOUR LITTLE HORRIBLE SLIMY GENOCIDAL GREASEMAN IN THE RIGHT???? WHY ARE YOU VOUCHING FOR HIM. WHY DO YOU SAY HIS IDEAS ARE RIGHT AUUUUGH-

How you continue to have terrible takes astounds me 💀 You can't be serious man how are you this like,,, braindead? And ignoring all of what S1 is trying to teach even before S2 came out? oh wait.

You choose your attraction of a gross ass man over LITERAL IN YOUR FACE PLOTPOINTS BECAUSE YOU'D RATHER MEATRIDE YOUR BABYGIRL MANDROID OVER EVERYTHING THE SHOW HAS BUILT UP. Not like you probably ever cared to connect any of the dots.

Oh, to help you do that, I have a previous post I made where I pinged you! You should read it before you read anymore, it'll help with what I'm about to preface here. Please READ IT.

Okay, time to dig into literally EVERYTHING ALL OVER AGAIN BECAUSE YOU CAN'T SEEM TO LET GO OF THIS MAN AND HIS OBVIOUS LACK OF HUMANITY IN HIM AND CONTINUE TO SEE SOMETHING THATS NOT THERE. I will start off by saying the quality of the writing for season 2 and season 2's entire disregard for season 1 don't discredit season 1, no matter what nonsense there is. I hate season 2 for all its going for thus far and its just genuinely a waste of my braincells to try watching it again. There are also things not specifically related to mandroid but are also pet peeves that show your lack of attention to detail.

How. Did you miss this. Humans have been living with bots for 30 to 40 years at this point they don't bat an eye at them because THEY THINK THEY'RE JUST SOME BOTS CASUALLY WALKING AROUND. They don't give a fuck about the terrans; only a select few know they are even earth-born bots. Transformers have been living amongst humans casually don't you think they wouldn't give two fucks and know not to gawk at random robots walking around like they just started existing?

You saw the Philadelphia episode (I hope? because you act like you haven't) or really any episode they are just chilling and walking around, you didn't notice nobody gave a damn? What about Optimus, Elita 1, and other bots? Would you randomly gawk at a group of sapient beings walking amongst you who've been there for a lifetime?

No.

They had to hide FROM GHOST not FROM THE ENTIRE HUMAN RACE. Ghost would have tried to capture them and imprison them by deeming them a threat for merely existing, not humans as a whole. The fact you miss this entire detail is incredibly sad.

Okay now onto Mandroid stuff because you never stop meatriding him MY GOD

Huh, maybe you need to USE YOUR BRAIN and realize he was not protecting earth. He -thought- he was, because he perceived them as vermin who need to be wiped out and a threat to humanity. Like I said before in my last post DECEPTCONS DO NOT EQUAL ALL OF TRANSFORMERS OH MY GOD. Plus with this season its clear there can't be the same writers on this team. They have sacrificed the story for toymaking opportunities DON'T YOU THINK MAYBE HE'S NOT RIGHT JUST BECAUSE S2 SOMEHOW SAYS THE -CONS IN SPECIFIC (NOT ALL BOTS MY FUCKING GOD)- ARE TO NOT BE TRUSTED AND ARE DANGEROUS? USE YOUR CRANIUM THAT EVOLUTION HAS GIVEN YOU. Mandroid conflated every single transformer with a twisted ideal in his head born out of hate, not from a true sense of danger nor did he separate cons and autobots or unaligned bots in his head from the conglomerate "evil" he thinks they are.

As above so below, you're DEFENDING HIS TERRIBLE GENOCIDAL BEHAVIOR BY BEING LIKE "HE MIGHT HAVE DONE BAD STUFF BUT AT THE END OF THE DAY HE WAS JUST PROTECTING EARTH" over a giant guardian robot who's being mind controlled and had no intention to do this or will of her own. Why are you so adamant on convincing yourself he was a good or commendable man? Where is your basic comprehension of anything in this show at all. HE TRIED TO COMMIT GENOCIDE ON A WHOLE RACE OF BEINGS WHO HAD BEEN COEXISTING ON EARTH FOR YEARS. It's not something you can go 'erm acshually-" on.

He literally killed EVERYONE who was a transformer; even if their death wasn't permanent they still died because he saw them all as a disease needing to be eradicated.

He has no sense of humanity, only hate in his heart and the need to destroy. How do you think he was protecting earth when he had succeeded at murdering an entire population off the face of the earth even if it's only for about 5-10 minutes? HOW ARE YOU THIS BLIND TO MEATRIDE HIM THIS HARD.

I honestly doubt they knew about her, let alone understood the glyphs everywhere. They were just mapping ancient tunnels and figuring it out; Croft also probably forbid anyone from entering due to the DWELLERS, not Terratronus; she was well off course and well protected/hidden by dirt and freaky alien monsters. Even if they somehow DID know, GHOST probably just utilized Terratronus to justify imprisoning dozens of transformers; whether they were cons, neutral, or autobots that didn't want to be part of a government mass incarceration and control program. Mandroid probably didn't give a shit at the moment because he was busy trying to squash literal children like bugs. Shut up about this stupid attempt at the executives making money off of random plot bullshit and toymaking opportunities.

AS STATED IN MY LAST POST: YOU ARE CONFLATING DECEPTICONS WITH ALL TRANSFORMERS, AS MANDROID DID. ONE GROUP DOES NOT EQUAL ALL OF THEM, AND DOES NOT MAKE TRANSFORMERS AS A WHOLE DANGEROUS IF THERE ARE INDIVIDUALS WHO CAUSE TROUBLE. MANDROID SAW ALL TRANSFORMERS AS A THREAT EVEN IF THEY HAD BEEN LIVING WITH HUMANS PEACEFULLY FOR DECADES. YOU ARE HERE SIMPLY REITTERATING A STUPID AND NULL POINT THATS PROVEN WRONG AGAIN AND AGAIN IN S1. His reasoning behind his actions are "we need to get rid of these filthy dangerous vermin who are invading our precious planet." Also the chaos terrans being born evil is a horrible plotpoint and groups being born evil is terrible writing, just like the entirtey of Season 2 because these new writers on the team understand nothing about the show as is. (Yes, most of the writers in s2 never worked on s1)

This one. this one enraged me. This is the most recent post I'd seen about mandroid as of writing (june 8th) and you have SERIOUS AUDACITY to say this. HE KILLED ALL OF THE MALTO BOTS AND TRIED TO KILL ROBBY AND MO; WHAT MAKES YOUR FUCKING MANDROID LOVING SHRUNKEN AND POCKED BRAIN THINK THAT HE WOULD TEAM UP WITH THEM LIKE SOME BUDDY BUDDY ADVENTURE? HE ATTEMPTED AND COMMITTED GENOCIDE, UNETHICAL EXPERIMENTATION, CHILD MURDER, AND MORE.... HE WOULDN'T MAKE JUST """""SMARTASS COMMENTS""" HE'D STRAIGHT UP HATECRIME ALL OF THEM.

I'm not gonna be nice with this last one. You are incredibly media illiterate if not just lacking basic cognition to think he of all people would willingly team up with people he wanted to kill off during season 1. You watched the finale of season 1 and GATHERED NOTHING FROM IT. You, in all your 34 years of life, somehow have not obtained a single gram of "maybe I shouldn't vouch for and defend a person who's xenophobic and wants to commit genocide" despite enjoying writing and HISTORY. HOW ARE YOU ONE TO ENJOY HISTORY YET MAKE NO CONNECTIONS TO ATTROCITIES COMMITTED BY PEOPLE TO WHAT MANDROID IS DOING AND HOW THEY ARE WRONG AND ENTIRLEY UNFORGIVABLE. At this point I believe you to be willfully ignorant to pass off your crush on this man as okay and convince yourself he is right somehow; even going as far as to utilize this new season as an excuse for him.

Your audacity to think he is anything other than a pathetic horrible man with terrible and morally bankrupt goals and actions somehow will be nice to groups of people he hates astounds me to no end. The show gives you all you need to connect the dots and you haven't. I'm aware i'm likely talking to a brick wall because you're likely willingly ignorant to excuse yourself or will never read this but I will call out this nonsense regardless. It comes off as extremely weird and bordering on you just believing in the ideologies he spouts.

I will say this again to make it clear; Mandroid is a stand-in for people who believe in racist and xenophobic ideas, and will stop at nothing to destroy them. The transformers are an allegory for refugee immigrants, and the terrans are first gen decedents. You continuing to believe his lies and defending him just borderlines on you upholding racist ideals. (That might sound deranged af of a claim but considering the context... yeah)

TLDR for lazy people: This fool pinged in this post is claiming a character who ATTEMPTED TO COMMIT GENOCIDE as being in the right somehow with his ideals/actions and not a total morally bankrupt person. Meatriding getting in the way of logic.

-No cheers to you, Wizard and Cupid

[lunarharp]

What led to this (orufrey comic, cw an uncomfortable/creepy scene)

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[changbinlov3r]

The very first night | L.M.

Pairing: Lee Know x afab!reader

Summary: after a few months of dating Minho, you two finally have your very first night.

Genre: fluff, smut, friends to lovers

Words count: ± 3,200

THIS ONE AND ALL MY CONTENTS ARE +18, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

If you like my content don't forget to ✨reblog✨

Warnings: virgin!Minho, virgin!reader, very sloppy and eager sex, unprotected piv(wrap it before you tap it), fingering, oral(F receiving), biting(I think that's all)

A/N: I was reading this fic by @moonlinos and had this thought: "what would be like to have your first time with inexperienced bf Minho" and it came out like this 🥺 I'd like to tell @/moonlinos that I just found out about your blog and your writing is amazing, you're really an inspiration 🫶🏻

You met Minho on your first day of college, you were lost in the campus trying to find the orientation room when you bumped into someone, letting your books and bag fall to the floor.

It was your fault, you were looking around and didn't see the man coming in your direction. You apologized right away, more preoccupied with picking up your things rather than looking in his face but he didn't answer you, waiting for you to properly look him in the eyes.

To say that you two hit it off instantly when your eyes met his, it's an understatement. You even blinked a few times making sure you weren't dreaming. That guy was the prettiest man you have ever seen and it's not even an exaggeration. He was wearing a light pink sweater with a white dress shirt below, dark blue jeans and all stars. It was an outfit that would look average in anyone else but it looked like a masterpiece in him.

You didn't want to let him go so in the spur of the moment, you asked if he knew where to find the orientation for your major, just to find out he was also going there. After that day you two got closer like it was nothing, you were never good at making friends but it seemed so natural with him, like it just happened you didn't have to put a lot of effort into it.

You first realized your feelings for him when he told you he had a date coming up. You felt like throwing up and the ache on your chest just made the whole situation more excruciating.

You avoided him for a week after that, trying to convince yourself that you weren't in love with him or at least that you could pretend not to be in love with him.

When he showed up at your dorm in the middle of the night looking extremely tired, eye bags under his eyes and hair a mess, he inquired why you were being like that and you suddenly didn't want to pretend anymore. You decided in the split of a second that it was worth it to confess to him, so you did.

He blinked once, twice and for a third time, not letting out a single word, making you suddenly regret everything that you said to him. What if he wanted to end your friendship? You don't think you could handle losing him as your friend too.

But in an unexpected turn of events he stepped close to you, cupping your face with his hands and kissing you.

“I thought you didn't like me back”, he whispered after pulling away, breathless. “That's why I was trying to move on”

You felt relief wash all over you, so he liked you back it seems.

After months of dating, you still hadn't gone beyond kissing and some light touching. You always let things flow in your relationship, knowing that you two would give the next step when you were ready. And it was sooner than you expected.

The end of the semester had arrived, finals were finally over and you could take a deep breath. You and Minho would meet in the cafe in front of the college gates, grab some coffee and go back to his apartment to watch some movies and cuddle. His roommates would be out tonight partying to celebrate the end of the semester and the apartment would be just yours.

“Fried chicken or pizza?” He asks, scrolling on his phone while selecting something to order.

“Fried chicken?” You ask back, making him glare at you. He hates how indecisive you are so he always tries to give you few options.

“Ordered”, he tells you.

“I'm gonna take a shower”, you get up going to the bathroom.

Your bath is a bit longer than usual, you are not in a hurry today since you can stay up all night and sleep all day tomorrow but when you open your eyes there's a surprise in the wall next to you.

“Minho!” You yell, screaming like you just saw a ghost. You grab a towel and jump to the other side of the bathroom, watching as your boyfriend swings the door open, worry in his face.

When he looks at you and sees you are safe and sound, he scowls.

“What is it?” He rushes you, impatiently.

You point out in the bathroom, tears in your eyes.

“Did you make all this scandal because of a cockroach?” He asks, huffing but goes after it and kills it for you.

“You know I hate them”, you make a disgusted face. “They are gross”

He sighs, just now paying attention to you and noticing that you have only a towel covering you. You only remember that fact when his cheeks and ears turn pink and you look down, instantly covering your chest.

“Don't look!” You whine, hiding behind the door.

“Okay! Okay!” He puts his hands up in surrender, turning around and closing the door.

What follows after that is an awkward atmosphere, you are boyfriend and girlfriend but never have seen each other naked. You know it's something that is certain to happen but you never really discussed much about it.

You decide to address the issue when you are already on your second glass of soju. You look at him challengingly, narrowing your eyes.

“I think I should see you without a shirt since you have seen me too”, you tell him. It's not what you wanted to say, you wanted to ask if he ever thought about your first time but the moment you were going to say it you chickened out.

“I haven't seen you without a shirt though”, he says, “you were covered by a towel”

“But that's the equivalent of me being naked in front of you, so now you have to pay me back”, you roll out your words, trying to form a coherent sentence. You're not drunk enough to be doing that but you're definitely embarrassed enough to be doing that.

Minho sighs, knowing you won't drop it. So he puts his hands on the collar of his shirt, pulling it off, revealing his abs.

You can feel your cheeks burning, you have never seen him without a shirt and the only thing that comes to your mind to describe him is: tempting.

You gulped down, feeling a strange pool form in your panties, you can feel it getting soaked.

“I think now it's your time to pay me back”, he raises a brow, making you bite nervously on your bottom lip.

“I'm not wearing a bra”, you whisper, feeling your heart beat faster at each passing second.

“I wasn't either”, he jokes, making you punch him in the arm. When Minho doesn't look away, staring at you intensely, you realize he's being serious about that so you gather all the courage you have, grabbing the rem of your — well, it's actually his, shirt and pulling it off, letting it fall down to the ground as you become completely mesmerized by the look on his face.

Minho has his bottom lip stuck between his teeth, lust emanating out of him. You can see his chest rise and fall at a fast pace.

“Can… Can I touch you?” He asks, looking into your eyes desperately and you nod, watching as he comes closer, cupping your breasts with both of his hands. He's on his knees in front of you, kneading on the soft flesh of your chest. Minho pinches your nipple, groaning when you let a moan escape. He's sure it's the prettiest sound he has ever listened to.

He leans over you, taking your lips into his. The way he kisses you stays the same, calm and gentle. He trails wet kisses down your jaw, to your neck, seizing the opportunity to mark you with his teeth, something he loves to do and that's the closest he has ever been to your chest until today. He goes down tracing kisses till he's in front of your breasts, Minho kisses the hill between them and attaches his mouth to the right one, still massaging the left one, pinching the bud eventually because likes to hear you whimper and sigh.

Your hands go to his hair, pressing him against your chest. You have your eyes closed shut, probably an unflattering face of pure pleasure but you really don't care. Minho sucks at your other breast before going down, trailing wet kisses down your stomach.

You're embarrassed, no one has ever seen you so vulnerable like that and you really want to have him go down on you but you're a bit scared since your friends always talk about how guys find it a hassle to go down on girls. You know Minho is not an asshole, he won't want you to do the same to him if he can't pleasure you first.

“Can I?” He asks when he notices your hesitancy, his fingers are hooked at the waistband of your sweats, playing with the elastic while you decide if you'll let him continue.

“You don't have to feel obligated”, you bite on your bottom lip, not very sure on what to do next.

“I don't, I really want to do it”, he says, but seeing as you don't look like you believe him, he chuckles. “Chan said he really enjoys going down on his girlfriend, I wanted to try it since we started dating but didn't know how to ask”, you can see his ears turning a dark shade of red, making your heart beat faster.

You nod, feeling more nervous than before.

“Can we kiss a little bit more?” You ask and he nods frantically.

“We don't have to do anything tonight if you're not ready”, he says, hovering over you and kissing your neck.

“I'm ready”, you cup his face, making him look at you. “I'm just nervous”, you chuckle awkwardly.

“It's fine”, he gives you a peek on the lips. “Should we move to the bed?” He asks and you nod, getting up as Minho collects your things and his, following you to his bedroom.

It takes you half an hour of making out to grab Minho's hand and pull it down to your core, you lift the waistband of your sweats and panties so his hand can find your soaked pussy. He slides one of his fingers between your folds gathering your slick and pressing it on your clit.

“Is it good like this?” He asks, even though your face should give it in right away that he's pleasuring you.

“Yes, please don't stop”, you put your hands on his arms, digging your nails on his skin. Minho chuckles, doing what you asked but also adding another finger, making you open your eyes in an instant to stare at him with wide eyes. “Oh”, it's the only thing you can let out when you feel the knot forming on your lower stomach.

He kisses you, turning the experience into something much more deeper. By the way he kisses you, no longer the calm and gentle but now an eager and hungry kiss, you can feel how urgent he's feeling, how much he wants you and that's enough to make you come on his fingers.

You take a few deep breaths before opening your eyes just to witness your boyfriend putting his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean. You gulp, feeling a burn run through your body.

“Can I go down on you now?” He asks, eyeing you eagerly and you nod, still too dazed by your orgasm.

Minho doesn't lose time, moving to your bottom part and pulling off your pants and underwear with him. He looks at your pussy enamored, like you're the prettiest creature he has ever seen and that makes you embarrassed, moving your hands to cover yourself but your boyfriend shakes his head, preventing you from continuing.

“Don't cover yourself. You're so beautiful, I have no words to describe it”, he tells you, eyes so sincere you can't even tease him about lying.

You nod once more, laying down comfortably as he trails kisses up your legs. Minho kisses your ankles, then your calves. He follows the path to your knees, kissing the inside of each and then going to your thighs, doing the same thing. When he leans down on your core, you hold your breath, feeling his hitting on your skin. You have goosebumps all over your body when he kisses your clit, making you sigh and let go.

Minho licks a huge strip between your folds, gathering all the juice he can get on his tongue, enjoying your taste. You moan loudly, earning a glance from him, he was so concentrated by his own pleasure on feeling your pussy on his mouth that he forgot to check what was your reaction and he's glad to find that you're enjoying yourself, hands flying to his hair as you pull him more into your cunt. He keeps licking your clit, sucking and even biting just to make you shudder glaring at him. He chuckles every time, making the vibrations stimulate you even more.

Minho puts on a finger, testing the water to see how you react, he puts on another one when you look unbothered by just one, earning a reaction from you as you whine and moan. You can feel your second orgasm of the night being ripped out of you, as he intensifies his sucking on your clit and his fingers thrusting inside you.

You let out the louder couple of moans of the night, holding onto the sheets for dear life as you tremble and arch your back in pleasure. You're absolutely fucked out and have no idea how Minho can keep going, his hair is a mess and his lips are swollen, his face is covered on your juice from his mouth until his chin. When he kisses you again, you can feel your own taste on his tongue, making you groan.

You can feel his hardness pressing against your leg. He still has his pants on looking painfully tight.

“You wanna keep going?” He asks and you nod, biting on your lip. “I think Chan has some condoms stocked, I'm gonna take a look”, he starts moving out of the bed but you hold his wrist, pulling him back to you.

“I'm on the pill”, you bite on your bottom lip, “I’ve been taking it since we started dating”, you prop yourself up, leaning on your elbows as you kiss him, “wanna feel you”, you say, making his breath hitch and his face turns red.

He nods, blinking a few times before leaning over to kiss you once more. He gets up quickly, taking off the rest of his clothes and in a second his body hovers over yours as he positions himself between your legs, his cock teasing your entrance carefully.

“If it hurts, tell me”, he checks with you for the last time and you nod. He starts pushing his cock inside you, your hands are holding him by the shoulders, digging your nails on him but he doesn't seem to mind.

He closes his eyes briefly, feeling your velvet walls squeezing him so much it's hard to keep going. Minho stops when he hears you sniff, opening his eyes just to find your eyes full of tears and trembling lips.

“Am I hurting you? You should say it if I am”, he scolds you gently, something only he can do.

“The first time is supposed to hurt”, you explain.

“But I can do something to make it hurt less if you tell me what you're feeling”, he kisses your forehead, having all the care to not move inside you.

“You're already making it so much more comfortable”, you smile, kissing his nose.

“Maybe you should be on top, that way you can have the control”, he tells you and you ponder for a minute, nodding.

He pulls out of you, making you whine to the sudden loss, making you feel empty. Minho chuckles, kissing you before laying down to watch you be the one to come on top of him.

You grab his cock, position it in your entrance and push it in. You're much more brave than him, Minho thinks, but also you're the one who knows how much pain you can handle so it's only right for you to have the control — at least on your first time.

You sink down on his cock slowly, making him grab the sheets rather than your hips, too afraid to put too much pressure on you and hurt you. Your face tells him you're in pain, but he knows there's not much he can do about it other than soothe you. So he caresses your back with one hand and your face with the other, sliding his hands to your breasts and kneading at them so you can at least relax a bit.

When you finally have all of him inside of you, you sigh, staying still for a couple of minutes. Minho feels like he can explode at any second, you're squeezing him like crazy but he doesn't want to hurry you so he waits for you to move.

You start grinding on him, rubbing your clit on his pelvic bone and trying to relax the most. After a while the pain is almost not perceptible and you start riding him at a fast pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good”, Minho says, finally grabbing at your hips to pull you down on him.

You can't really form coherent sentences, so the chant of “ah-ah-ah” followed by your kisses on him and you marking his chest is the biggest form of communication you can manage at the moment.

Minho thinks you're the prettiest person he has ever seen, he thought that the moment your eyes lock for the first time and he'll think that until you two are too old to remember what you ate the day before.

When he feels like he's about to cum, he warns you and you nod to let him know you understand but keeps sinking down on him even deeper. He paints your walls white while trembling, his bottom lip stuck between his bunny teeth as he holds your hips with such strength that you know it's gonna bruise. But you don't mind, not at all.

You didn't cum this time, it wasn't as painful as it could be but still painful enough to not edge you.

“I'm sorry you didn't finish”, he pouts as you pull out of him and snuggle yourself in his arms.

“You made me come twice”, you chuckle, making him smile before kissing the top of your head.

“But I wanted to do it a third time”, he huffs.

“We have all the time in the world”, you tell him, resting your chin on his chest as you watch him grin.

“Yes, now you're mine forever”, he giggles to your widened eyes.

“Should I be worried?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“You were already mine from the start, you just didn't know it yet”, he kisses you, pulling away just to stare at you for a few seconds. “I love you”, he confesses and you feel your cheeks burning.

“I love you too”, you say, closing the distance between the two of you and kissing him again.

[nebulainatree]

My superpower is that I get so obsessed with something that I cannot stop thinking about it long enough to sleep. It's also not a superpower and actually is a curse

[orteil42]

some undifferentiated thoughts about my Starfield playthrough as i have them. i am a game developer with a strong interest in procedural generation and i've enjoyed a bunch of other bethesda games so this might get pretty mean sorry

(this is a long one)

starfield dialogue is already exhausting me "oh you must've been living under a moon rock ;)" get it! because they're in space! this would've been too corny for the Jetsons

there's a kind of cheap dusting of space theme over everything. the food isn't salmon but alien salmon. it's not seaweed but alien seaweed. cooking alien stir-fry. come on

cannot get over how clumsily the theming is handled. books, board games, weapon names revolve heavily around space. these people have been living on alien planets for hundreds of years yet have this unending sense of novelty about it. the game takes itself completely seriously but feels like it's attempting to parody itself

people's EYEBALLS are CLIPPING THROUGH THEIR EYELIDS

a woman is speaking to me in french. her accent is about as believable as her haircut

these are some of the worst reflection maps i've ever seen

next to nothing is interactive. you can sit in chairs and sleep in beds and that is about it. can't even drink from people's toilets. disgraceful

game helpfully crashes 5 seconds after i decide i should get some sleep. very handy!

my character has not said a single thing since i started playing. not one peep. this is an unmitigated improvement over Fallout 4 i'm so glad honestly

the more i poke around the big city the more the NPC quips feel like something out of gen-1 pokemon. can't get enough of this coffee :) this city is where it's at :) spacesuits are comfy and easy to wear

very strange sense of altered reality from the quest dialogue too. has anyone at bethesda met a person before? i move on to some mission that has me scanning wildlife on a faraway planet hoping this will, somehow, feel less alien than human conversation

just as with No Man's Sky, every planet is uniformly dotted with equidistantly-placed points of interest that you slowly make your way to (no vehicles besides your jetpack) which always turn out to be some cave or building identical to those you've cleared before

unlike with No Man's Sky, the seamless exploration is faked and the biodiversity is nil. you do get an impressive amount of raw loading screens however

the prefab bases and power stations found everywhere on planets seem to have very sparse, very specific slots for spawning consumables, which results in encountering some giant industrial installation in the middle of nowhere with, i don't know, a loaf of whole-grain sandwich bread just casually sitting next to it all proper. there is no breathable atmosphere here. who is eating this

planetary traversal is a CHORE. i am saying this as someone who loved Death Stranding

heinous "hold to confirm" buttons sprinkled in various flow-breaking places throughout the interface

enemy AI is abominable. nobody is pathing their way to get my ass. "must've been the wind" taken to the next level. an infant playing peekaboo has more object permanence

hoisting yourself up on ledges when jumping is…nice

companions randomly nowhere to be found. persists through multiple fast-travels and loading screens until, just as randomly, they pop back up

storage space is now limited! unlike in Fallout 4 and virtually every other bethesda game, your containers now hold a finite item capacity. god forbid we let the player have fun

baffling inventory UI. i imagine there's a mod out there that completely overhauls it the way SkyUI did for Skyrim. this should not be needed! how are your UIs getting worse a decade later!

scanning the precious few species inhabiting some dusty planet; one of them is this arching red root i've already seen several times before. my job done in this biome, i travel (read: teleport with a loading screen) to the polar region to find some other species. the first one i catalogue is the exact same red root again but this time it's named "boreas root" todd howard is a genius

some alien horror comes at me full fangs out. i hop on a pebble. obscenely, i am safe

procedural terrain generation beyond dull, impossibly unimaginative. these people have not had one critical thought on what makes a procedural world interesting. beginning to feel validated in my belief that only i should be trusted with proc gen. along with perhaps tarn adams

jokes aside this is making me feel genuinely insane. there have been excellent procedural generation techniques that produce compelling explorable maps for decades now. bethesda absolutely has the budget and know-how to do miles better than this yet somehow they just…do not? the same way Pokemon has decided to just no longer bother with their mainline games despite being the highest-grossing media franchise in history? hello? what is for real going on

some of the most cynical breadcrumbing i've seen in years. approaching some random cave and this person in space gear, who in the vast immensity of the infinite cosmos just happens to be snapping pictures right here, tells me more-or-less verbatim "if you like this place, you should see this other place" [other random cave has been added to your map.]

i do not like how good this makes No Man's Sky's gameplay look. it depresses me how much i have to hand it to No Man's Sky for at least not fucking up this bad. please stop making me wish i was playing No Man's Sky instead this is grotesque

i think i've exhausted my interest and patience for this game at the moment. i'll get back to the main story at some point and try some other systems ie. crafting and base-building to see if there's any engagement to be found but so far, my god. my god

[silencesscreams]

"is there any chance i can fix this?" where james and reader are best friends since birth but he begins to pull away and spend less time with her in favor of the boys, so she just cuts him out of her life and after a while he doesn't know how to deal with it anymore. hiiiii

sad beautiful tragic

james potter x fem reader (angst)

a/n: sorry about any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language (also i’m pretty bad at writing angst but i tried my best) also immediately thought of the title because of the taylor swift song, so hope you don’t mind the association. also the first kiss part came to my mind because of a tiktok i saw a few weeks ago but i don’t really remember who’s it was to credit them

warnings: friendship distancing, kissing, fighting, cursing, a bit short (sorry), happy ending

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please”

you knew james potter and he knew you. knowing meaning comprehending each other, meaning that you stood by each others side for as long as you can remember.

he was your first friend. he was your neighbor and you both grew up together, it was expected that you both would know each other better than anyone.

sure, it felt different when you both started hogwarts and suddenly he had new friends, but so did you. you spent the time you could together, always saving a bit of your days for each other.

during the sixth to seventh year summer vacation, he had spent the whole summer with you, you both would hang out all the time.

until he kissed you.

it was the last day of summer and you both had spent the evening in his room. you were talking about a book you had been reading recently and he listened quietly, like it was the most interesting thing he had ever heard of. until you paused for a brief moment and he moved closer to you. you were sat on the floor with him, the carpet tickling your legs as you played with the fluffy yarn under you.

“honey” he said, you looked at him, doe eyed waiting for him to continue. “a phrase. two words, six letters, two vowels. guess.” he said lowly whilst looking at your lips. your mind went blank.

one vowel for each word. you still didn’t get it.

“what are the vowels?” you whisper back, he smiles.

“i and e” he answers, not taking his eyes from off of you for a second. you knew.

“kiss me?” and so he did. his lips met yours abruptly, his hands grabbed your hips and yours went straight to the back of his neck. it completely changed the way you ever saw him, hell, it completely changed your expectations to a kiss. it was better than anything you’d ever experienced and you loved it.

when you got back to school, it seemed like he didn’t do that, actually, it seemed like he didn’t even talk to you the whole summer.

sure, he did casually say hello in the halls and you might’ve shared one or two conversations, but what the hell? he kisses you like that and expects you to just forget about it? that was the most fucked up thing anyone could’ve done. as the semester went on, your mind was absolutely torturing you over that kiss.

it made you overthink every single thing you ever did around him. but maybe he didn't have time, maybe he was really busy with his studies and quidditch, right? that was probably it.

he saw you every once in a while, said an awkward hi or whatever that thing signaling head thing he did was.

the crush you had developed for him didn’t help at all. it made you crave his presence in your life, even now that you hated him more than you ever thought you possibly could. you missed his pet names for you, ‘honey’ and ‘sweetheart’ sounded so amazing coming out of his mouth.

but from the moment he started to ignore you, you decided he was absolutely done. he was never going to see a smile coming from you ever again, he was never going to get another hello, nothing. james potter didn’t deserve a single thing from you.

your friends agreed. they thought he was a piece of shit and said you should’ve cut him off a long time before.

life went on without him, you barely thought about him. your studies were going well, everything was great.

christmas break came up and when you saw james at the train station, you were pissed. you knew he was going to be there for christmas dinner, he was always invited alongside with his family. you didn’t know how he was going to act then, was he going to pretend it never happened?

when you got home, your mother instantly started asking you what you wanted for dinner and you were glad to be home, you just hated that he was in the house next to yours.

a few nights after you both got home, you were invited for a date by steven, who worked at a bookstore near the city park. you said yes, he took you to see a shitty movie and tried to kiss you after dropping you off at your front porch. you dodged it and gave him a good night kiss on the cheek. james saw it all.

once the date left, you heard him yelling from his porch:

“who’s that?” you ignored him and went inside, sure, you weren’t going to see steven again but james didn’t deserve to know that.

on christmas day you went to the potter’s for dinner, your parents insisted for you to go, even though you tried to fake being sick. sirius was there too, you politely greeted all of them them and didn’t bother to answer james’ “hey”.

when you sad at the side of the living room table james sat next to you, even though that wasn’t his usual seat. you played with your dress awkwardly and ate less, being there was making you so irritated you lost your appetite.

after taking a bite from your desert, you thanked euphemia for the food and told your parents you were feeling a bit sick and that you were heading home, telling them to enjoy the rest of their night.

as you were opening the door to head out, you heard footsteps behind you. you knew james was there and you had no interest to talk with him.

“don’t” you simply stated, stepping out and shutting the door lightly on him, he followed you during the small walk between both your houses.

“hey!” he shouted, trying to get your attention. you were about to shut the door to your house on his face, but he held it with his foot, going into your house.

he pulled you by your wrist but you tugged it away from him.

“don’t touch me!” you shouted at him, staring into his eyes for the first time that night.

“now you can talk to me, huh? ‘the fucks up with you?!” he shouts back, brows furrowed. you couldn’t believe him, what a fucking nerve he had.

“whats up with YOU?!” you step closer to him, throwing your keys on the coffee table in the middle of the living room. “you’ve ignored me for the whole semester and now you wanna talk?” he had never seen you like this. you had never been this angry at anyone or anything around him.

“i’m sorry?” he had no reaction, he knew he was wrong, he just couldn’t deal with it. with anything. he didn’t know what to do after he kissed you, he couldn’t handle any of it. he knew that if he spent more time around you he would fall harder, he couldn’t risk it.

“i’m sorry! now that you don’t have anyone else near for you to talk to i’m worthy of your attention? i’m so lucky, right?!” your eyes started to tear up, but you held it in, he was not getting to see you cry.

“honey, i’m sorry i didn’t talk much with you these past few months, but i tried to speak with you tonight and you didn’t even bother to answer me!” he ran his hand through his hair, looking at you as you sat down on the couch, staring at your hands.

“you didnt even look at me. the entire fucking night. one lousy ‘hey’ is not trying to do anything” he handed you a piece of paper, it was crumpled up in his jeans’ pocket. you knew he was bad with words, but the paper was written front and back. what was he even trying to do? did he think a letter was enough to fix the damage he had done?

“really? you’re a little too late for this, don’t you think?” you said, looking at him angrily.

“fine, don’t read it then. just keep it, okay?” he knew you were about to cry. it was the worst feeling he had ever felt.

“you don’t get to do this to me, james” you hold back tears once you say it.

“i know, honey, i know” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your face as you try to not melt because of his touch. he kisses you, but this time you pull away.

“no. don’t do this to me” you say, a single tear streaming down your face, he wipes it off but more tears just keep coming

“im sorry, im so sorry for everything i did and-“ you interrupt him.

“could you just try to listen?!” you shout, pulling away from his touch again. “what makes you think that i want this? after all you did, better, all that you didn’t do?! you kiss me and expect me to forget about it? expect me to be okay with you ignoring me all the time just because you kissed me again? i can’t be okay with any of this unless you actually explain to me what happened. i really try to understand you, but all of this doesn’t help!”

“i love you” he says “i have loved you all my life and i didn’t know, after i kissed you it all hit me and i couldn’t trust myself around you anymore, i didn’t want to hurt you so i pulled away, i just didn’t know it would hurt you more like that. i’m sorry, but im here now and i want to show you how much I do love you” he pauses and sits next to you on the couch.

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry, honey, please. is there any chance i can fix this? just tell me, please” he wipes the tears from off your face again. you knew he meant it, you just didn’t know how to trust him again.

“i don’t know” you whisper, looking into his eyes, you had never seen him look this sad. you wanted to trust him, you really did, but how could you? how could you know he wasn’t going to pull something like that again?

you couldn’t be sure of anything, you could only hope for the best and be careful. so you gave it a shot.

“come here” you say lowly, pulling him in for a hug. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and gave you small kisses.

“i’m so sorry, baby” he whispered.

“i know” you whisper back, he looks at you and gives you quick kisses all over your face. you can’t help but smile.

it was going to take a while for you to trust him again, but you knew you could.

[chuulyssa]

🇨​​ 🇴 ​​🇳 ​​🇫​​ 🇪 ​​🇸​​ 🇸 ​​🇮 ​​🇴 ​​🇳​ ！

BSD MEN REACTING TO A CONFESSION.

↷ A/N ─ yes new divider again because im indecisive as heck

★ FT. ─ dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa , atsushi , fyodor

!! TAGS ─ mentions of suicide, insecurities, overall fluff

"i love you."

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ.

promptly replies with, "i love you too."

he'll lean into you with an amused smile because he lowkey thinks you're joking

when he realizes you're serious about it he'll immediately stop the stupid grin

and look at you with this sincere look you've never seen on his face before

he'll hold your hand and everything while repeating "i love you too," for a second time, only this time he's serious about it too

definitely asks for double suicide later

"You know it's my motto to unalive myself with a beautiful woman. How lucky of you to have been bestowed upon this honour."

"Mhm."

"I'll say yes if you join me in a double suicide," he asks with puppy eyes.

"Dazai, you already said yes."

"I'll say it again!"

​ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ.

he stops abruptly and half chokes on his expensive ass wine

poor boy is really confused 😭 because "where did that come from??"

he tries to play it cool but he's literally SCREAMING inside

we all know he's been betrayed a lot of times in the past so he feels hesitant about it

will decide to give it a shot tho

100% calls dazai to brag about it

"You may be taller or whatever (as if that matters in the first place) but were you the one able to steal her heart? Eh? I think not!"

You chuckle hearing him update his rival of his new relationship status.

"And anyway," he raises a glass of wine for toast. "I'd like to thank my good looks, good looks and did I mention my good looks (?) for making tonight the happiest night ever."

ʀᴀɴᴘᴏ.

"i know."

he has always observed every single thing about you - how you behave around others vs how you behave around him, the little times you look at him like you want his attention etc etc

he's known about this since like soooo long

he defo also knew when where and how you were gonna confess

went to yosano for tips to react to it and bought you chocolates and stuff. he thinks it'll make you happy :D

eats all of that himself even tho he originally bought it for you but you let it slide because he's a cutie patootie

"You could at least have been a bit subtle about it," he says, munching on his chips. "I mean, anyone who saw you would've been able to guess. I didn't even need my ability for this!"

He lifts his chin up thoughtfully, fingers ripping open another packet of snacks. "You should be grateful I'm not a snitch. Eh, well," he shrugs, "You're now dating the greatest detective in the world! Congratulations!"

ᴀᴋᴜᴛᴀɢᴀᴡᴀ.

"eh???"

like chuuya, he's pretty confused too

"are you sure?"

tries to keep a straight face and hide his fluster

he'll narrow his eyes at you as if he's trying to read your emotions. he doesn't wanna get hurt if he gets too attached to you and you two end up breaking up

also how tf is he supposed to believe that someone like YOU like someone like HIM?

reassure him that he's perfect please :( poor baby deserves the world

"I am a lot of work. I don't think you can keep up with all of that," he says shortly.

"I'll try my best."

"You don't have to."

"But I want to!"

He stares at you for a few moments, looking like he's about to cry.

"Oh, alright then," he waves a hand around. "But don't you ever leave me."

ᴀᴛꜱᴜꜱʜɪ.

screams

"SAY IT AGAIN PLEASE!"

jumps around everywhere in happiness

you dont even get a verbal answer the man's just dancing around

either that or he just faints

he's, like akutagawa, insecure about himself. but he's much more open to showing his emotions to you.

you end up cuddling the whole night or he calls off work to be with you for the rest of the day <3

"I..." he repeats the same word for the fifth time in a row.

"Yes?"

"Don't mind me, I'm just trying to come to terms with the fact that I get to date you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no!" he panics, wringing both hands all over himself hastily. "I love you! Really!"

ꜰʏᴏᴅᴏʀ.

no reaction. im sorry

spares a small glance at you but otherwise doesn't get distracted from his work

you think he's gone deaf from the way he just ignored you cuz what????

will spend like 15 minutes that way before extending an arm to you and you lowkey DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO??? HELP??

he'll stare at you for a few seconds before pulling you onto his lap and continuing with his work

and that's his way of saying yes

He shuts the computers around him down and taps your outer thigh twice. You immediately stand up and help him up. He stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating something.

"You know, I never thought I'd enable others to call me a lovesick fool."

"Does that mean you are a lovesick fool?"

"A little, maybe," he turns around and walks out of the door while you follow him with a soft smile on your face.

© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.

[0cta9on]

Good Idea

length: 1.6k+ words

Genre: smut

Itzy Chaeryeong x Male Reader

(Author’s Note: Typing this on my phone was a hassle, so apologies if the quality isn’t that great. Enjoy anyways :) )

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

PLAYER TWO WINS

Your friend Chaeryeong throws her hands up to celebrate her victory while you slump deeper into the couch, the bitter sting of your 10th defeat in a row filling your mind.

“Get owned, los-“ Chaeryeong begins to taunt you, but stops as she notices your upset expression. She scoots closer to you, offering you an apologetic look. “Sorry, did I upset you?”

You lightly chuckle at her reaction and shake your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Chaeryeong.”

“Then what’s wrong, oppa?” She asks, looking up at you expectantly with her big, round eyes. You sigh as you recount the details of your failed date. A couple weeks ago, Chaeryeong recommended you to try a dating app after expressing to her that you wanted to meet someone new. She helped you set up your profile, and after a while of getting left on read, you finally managed to secure a date with a girl who you thought was cute and fun to talk to. Things were going great… Until your first date with her. Your lack of dating experience in the past few years turned you into an awkward, blubbering mess in front of her. It didn’t help that you decided to order the spiciest item on the menu that basically killed any chance you had of salvaging your date (and your taste buds).

Chaeryeong gently rubs your arm as you sink lower into the couch, accepting the fact that you’ll probably die alone.

“I’m sorry, oppa. Is there something I can do to cheer you up?”

“I don’t think there is.” You let out a deep sigh and stare at the ceiling, lost in thought. Maybe dying alone wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not like you haven’t gotten used to being alone by now.

“Um…” Chaeryeong anxiously bites her lip as she turns to look at you. “Do you wanna try touching my boobs?”

Your head jerks up as your eyes widen in shock. “W-what did you just say?”

“I read somewhere on the internet that guys like touching boobs.” Her wide innocent eyes stare back at you without a single thought behind them. Chaeryeong had a habit of blurting out strange things, but this is by far the most insane thing she has ever said.

“I-I mean, you’re not wrong, b-but…” You were at a complete loss of words by her proposition, but you couldn’t help scan your eyes down her body. Her white ruffled tank top accentuated her breasts while also showcasing her tiny waist and sexy abs she achieved from years of being a dancer. Paired with her skin tight jeans that emphasized her curvy ass and thighs, you almost humored the idea of running your hands all over her body.

“W-why? Just why?” you ask, confused yet slightly turned on.

“Because you’re my friend and I don’t like seeing you so upset,” she responded with a pout on her lip and puppy dog eyes. It was practically impossible to say no to her whenever she made that face. With a sigh, you end up giving in.

“O-okay okay, fine. Just… You offered this, so no telling anyone I did anything weird, alright?” Beneath your apprehension, your heart was pounding with excitement. Not getting any action for years made you go feral at the simple thought of copping a feel.

A smile grows on Chaeryeong’s face as she giggles with elation. “Okay!” She sits on your lap, her ass pushing against your crotch. “Don’t be shy, oppa,” Chaeryeong teases as she grabs your wrists, placing your hands on her ample chest covered by her top. You instinctively squeeze her breasts, eliciting a cute moan from her lips. Almost instantly, your cock begins to strain in your pants, smushed against Chaeryeong’s ass, as your primal urges begin to take over.

“Looks like someone is excit- MMM!!” Chaeryeong’s words are interrupted by your mouth kissing on the supple skin of her neck. All of your inhibitions fade from your body, every action driven solely by hunger. You couldn’t deny how sexy your friend was as she succumbed to your every move. Each squeeze of her chest, each nibble of her ear, each lick on her neck turned her body into putty, completely malleable in your hands. This became evident in how you are able to lift her top without resistance, exposing her braless tits.

Chaeryeong’s mounds were absolutely perfect in your palms, soft yet firm and perfectly round. Paired with her toned abs, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to be able to rub your hands all over her amazing body.

“D-do you- ah! Do you feel b-better, o-oppa?” Chaeryeong asked in between moans. You couldn’t help but chuckle at her adorable innocence as if she wasn’t being completely violated by you.

“Yes, I feel a lot better. I want you to feel better too,” you whisper into her ear in a sultry tone as your hand traces down her torso, causing her body to shiver in response. Chaeryeong giggles at your touch, biting her lip as she looks at you with complete lust in her eyes. You slowly unbutton her jeans, making sure she was watching. Her beautiful chest begins to rise and fall with heavy, anticipatory breaths. The urge to completely ruin your best friend was ever present in your mind, but you wanted to take things slowly. Savor every second of this experience.

Chaeryeong, on the other hand, was growing steadily impatient. “Oppa~” she whined, pouting her lips at you.

“So needy,” you chuckle before grabbing her chin and kissing her lips. She immediately melts into the delicate kiss as your fingers play with the hem of her panties. Slowly, you inch your hand closer to her wetness, teasing her skin with each scrape of your fingernails. Chaeryeong lightly moans into your mouth, her body shivering with pleasure. You graze her clit, causing her body to jolt from the contact.

“O-oh my g-god…” she groans, giggling with delight. You grab Chaeryeong’s chin with your free hand, watching her expression change as you plunge your middle finger deep into her pussy. Her mouth gapes open as she lets out a deep guttural moan, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. With your libido at an all time high, your mouth latches onto her neck as you insert a second finger into her heat, plunging your digits in and out of her until your hand starts to cramp.

“F-f-f-f-fuckkk!!!” Chaeryeong’s squeals, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. The walls of her pussy squeezed against your fingers as she came, staining her pants and your hand with her nectar. Her body suddenly goes limp as the high from her orgasm leaves her breathless.

“You okay, Chaeryeong?” you ask, smirking at her.

“Y-yeah… I feel… amazing…” She lazily plants kisses on your cheek in gratitude. This experience was definitely unforgettable - but you weren’t done yet. At this point, it was impossible to ignore your raging hardon, especially when Chaeryeong’s ass was rubbing all over it.

Standing up, you gently lay her down on the couch. She watched you, biting her lip, as you stripped her of her jeans and her soaked panties, leaving her bottom half completely nude. Her fit body was glistening with sweat and her sweet juices.

“Please take me already, oppa. I’m all yours,” Chaeryeong said, winking at you with a naughty grin. Without hesitation, you strip your clothes off, leaving them in a messy pile on the other side of the room. Your heart pounded with anticipation and lust as you lined up your cock with your best friend’s wet hole.

Church bells ring in your head as you slowly insert the tip of your penis into her. Chaeryeong’s body was complete perfection, both inside and out. A wave of ecstasy flows through you as her walls squeeze your member. You lean forward, catching Chaeryeong’s tit in your mouth as you continue to push through. Her cute moans fill the room, music to your ears.

“Mmm!! F-fuck… so b-big, oppa…” Her words were confirmation enough for you to start thrusting your hips into her. You start nice and slow, taking out most of your cock before plunging it back inside her heat. The jiggle of her breasts as you fucked her was mesmerizing.

Suddenly, she grabbed your face, forcing you to look at her. “F-faster… p-please, oppa,” she pleads, her wide eyes practically begging you to ruin her. You smirk, planting a gentle kiss on her lips before grabbing her hips and pounding her cunt with your hard dick. The rest of the world faded around you as you went rampant with pleasure. Pressure began to build in your loins, a sign of your impending orgasm. With the last of your strength, you slammed Chaeryeong down onto your cock, forcing her to match the rhythm of your thrusts.

Sensing your orgasm, Chaeryeong wraps her legs around your waist. “C-cum inside me, oppa. I-It’s okay.” With one final thrust, you went over the edge. Chaeryeong’s sweet pussy milked your cock completely dry. You collapsed back onto the couch, drained of all your energy.

“H-holy fuck… that was incredible,” you commented as you caught your breath. Chaeryeong snuggled up against you, smiling.

“I’m glad I could make you feel better, oppa.”

You couldn’t help but pepper her cute face with kisses. “If you’re gonna do this every time I’m sad, then I should go on failed dates more often,” you joked, earning a chuckle from her.

“Orrrrr, you could just go on a successful date with me and fuck me anyways,” she suggested, giggling as she bit her lip.

“I think I like your idea better.” With one final kiss, the two of you doze off in each other’s arms.

[nana-gumi]

my heart belongs to.. who? g.satoru

pairings: gojo satoru x fem! reader

cw: heavy angst, mentions of death, mentions of cremation, depression, starvation, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of self-harming, please read at your own risk!! NOT PROOFREAD AGAIN HELP (i'm sleepy alr but i want to update TvT)

a/n: here's the part two of the 'anyway, don't be a stranger.' yes the title has changed. also based from a song a piece of you by nathaniel constantin. that's all, enjoy reading ;) PLS NOTIFY ME IF YOU HAPPEN TO SEE TYPOGRAPHICAL ERRORS!! THANK YOU <3

now that you had lost your only strength to continue living, what should you do now?

prev | next

satoru doesn't know why something in him ached when he randomly spotted his best friend, his dear best friend, suguru with you, on a random place and at a random time.

your backs were turned to him but he surely didn't like the way you cling to his best friend, it hurts him in many ways he couldn't explain but, satoru knew too well that he doesn't have the rights to feel that way, that's because every pain and sorrow that has happened to his life would be different if he didn't do that one big mistake.

ever since the divorce, satoru never saw you again. you left and none of the people you knew where you've gone to. satoru thought it was for the best that you should be away from him because the moment he feels vulnerable again, he would look for your presence, even though you weren't together anymore.

although sometimes, satoru do hope that you didn't run away from him. he wanted to fix everything, to apologize, to try things with you again. he never wanted anyone other than you. you were the only person that could see his other sides, the only person who knew him very very well, the only person he wanted to grow old with but everything was too late already.

he shouldn't have listened to you when you pushed him away and there, he would've never saw the pain look in your face when both of you separated your ways, he would've never saw the way you tried to stop yourself from crying infront of him, and he would've never saw the way you accepted to keep your wedding rings so desperately as if he would still be around you if you keep it.

satoru regretted every decision he made up until now, it was all of his fault, it was his fault why you had to leave, everything was his fault, you didn't have a choice because of him and he hoped that you've already forgave him for that. he really hoped so.

because of the heavy thoughts, satoru didn't know why his feet brought him to his best friend's apartment. maybe to ask how you were doing? are you still single? do you have a new lover now? was it suguru? are you both dating? oh gosh, he hoped not. it could be anyone but his best friend.

"(name) trusted you with it suguru, you shouldn't break your promise." satoru suddenly stopped on his tracks. that was shoko's voice, he was sure of it.

"but, don't you think he still has the right to know? satoru's the father after all."

"you're right though but—"

"what did you just say?" both eyes were widened at the sudden appearance as satoru revealed himself from hiding as he went closer to his best friends.

"when did you—"

"i'm the father? what do you mean?" satoru asked as he furrowed his eyebrows and suguru looked away from him. satoru could recognize the worried look of his best friend's face. "shoko?"

"well.." she mumbled, looking at suguru.

"are you hiding something from me?" satoru asked.

"it's not like that—" shoko said.

"then why do you both look nervous?"

"satoru." suguru called as he felt shoko's hand stop him and she shake her head left to right. "i'm sorry, but he needs to know."

"needs to know what? come on."

"satoru, you had a child, with (name)." and he couldn't be more surprised as he looked at suguru, lost and confused.

"what?"

"yeah, unfortunately, sanyu is—"

"stop." satoru said as he placed a hand on his temples. "is this some kind of prank? therefore, it's not funny."

"satoru, i'm not lying." suguru said, his expression blank.

"no. that's— that would be impossible.."

"go talk with her, satoru. heh, in the end, i couldn't keep my promise to her, huh?" suguru said as he placed a hand on his nape. "i'll send you the address, go." and satoru didn't waste any more time as he walked towards the front door but suguru stopped him again. "satoru." he called and suguru almost laughed at the worried and somehow excited look on his best friend's face. it's been a while since he saw that.

"what?" satoru said, cleary annoyed and impatient as suguru lightly smiled at him.

"be gentle with her, she's still vulnerable." satoru didn't get what suguru meant by that as he finally left, following the map where suguru had sent him.

you knew this day would've eventually come as you stand face to face with your ex-husband, he was panting and you were just about to go back home from the convenience store.

"(name).." he whispered your name as he took a step close to you, another one, and then another one as he started sprinting, embracing you in his arms and no one knew how much he missed feeling you around his arms. you let him embrace you but you stopped yourself from doing the same thing, you just stood there.

"why are you here?" you asked as satoru pulled away, his sleeve flying on his eyes as he slightly rubbed it. he was about to tear up.

"is it true?" satoru asked and he hoped you get what he meant with the question as you slowly nod your head.

"let's go inside my home first. it's getting cold here. i'll tell you everything there."

and there both of you ended up inside your home as satoru quietly inspected the surroundings. there was your picture and his son hanging on the wall.

"here." you said, handing him a glass of water. "i'm guessing suguru told you?"

"no. i actually overheard them."

"i see."

"so, where's.. um— can i see our child?" he asked and your heart ached at his question. you thought suguru told him already?

satoru didn't know what to do you when you started sobbing as you covered your face with your palms.

"you can't." you mumbled, wiping your tears as you look down on your lap.

"i understand.. but if you're—"

"you can't, satoru. we can't—"

"i know. i know you still don't trust me but i promise i will—"

"he's gone, satoru! don't you understand it? he's gone, he's dead, we can't see him anymore!" you exclaimed. everything was just overwhelming and you didn't mean to yell at him. "i'm sorry." you mumbled, once again, covering your face with your hands as you cry.

you felt his presence beside you as he wrapped his arms around you. he didn't know what else to do and satoru thought being close to you will help, being close to you will maybe help his almost shattering soul.

"i'm sorry." satoru said as he felt your arms around him. was this suguru meant when you were still vulnerable. he should've asked suguru to be more clear so there, satoru would know how to comfort you very well.

"i'm sorry, satoru. i kept him away from you when he wanted to see you. i should've pushed aside my own feelings and let sanyu meet you but i just couldn't, and now guilt is eating me up. it's my fault he couldn't see his papa on his last days. it was his last wishes but—"

"shh, stop it already. it's okay. don't blame yourself."

"i'm really sorry." no. satoru told himself he doesn't deserve your apologies and thinks everything was his fault to begin with.

"it was my fault that i couldn't be there for you. for our son. i deserve all the blame." satoru said as you slightly pulled away from him as you wiped your tears.

"it's not your fault either. sanyu was born with a weak heart. i couldn't protect him with that, no?" you said as you placed your hands on your lap.

"when we met at the parking lot, was that?.." you nodded your head in response as you recalled that day.

"that was the day after sanyu died." you mumbled and satoru couldn't help but clench his jaw. if only he knew.

satoru snapped out of his thoughts when he felt you sit up from the couch as you kneeled infront of the small table, taking something beneath it as you went back beside him.

"come, i'll show you his pictures." you said as you smiled at him and satoru couldn't help but mirror you. just for now, maybe you both could be happy, even just for now.

-

"he even cut his own hair, look!" you exclaimed, pointing a certain picture as satoru laughed with you.

he missed a lot things. when you were carrying his child, when his son was born, when his son was growing up. he wasn't there to witness everything and he almost– no, he regrets it so so much.

"i almost dyed his hair black 'cause he reminds me of you so much." you sighed as you closed the album, finally reaching its end as you place it on the table.

"we really do look like each other." satoru said as you lightly smile at him.

"you're not wrong." you responded and suddenly, it became silent.

"i'm sorry (name)." he started as you stayed still in your position. "i tried looking for you." he continued as he held your hand on his with you still avoiding to look at him. "why didn't you tell me before?" he said and that's what made you look at him. is he seriously asking you that?

"i don't know, satoru. do you?" you asked and he was completely taken aback.

"you should definitely go home now, someone might be waiting for you.." you said as you stand up from the couch, only for him to stop you by your wrist.

you looked at him for a moment and he did too. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out as your hand slowly slipped out of his grasp and you turned your back at him.

"if you want to know more about sanyu, just ask."

it's been a week since you and satoru talked things out. it felt good to be able to talk everything with him. you thought at some point that satoru will hate you even more for not informing him about his son's existence but it was the opposite.

and maybe, you shouldn't have stalked his social and there you wouldn't stumble on his ex' account, because you never knew that it would hurt you this much, that it would hurt your already, broken heart.

you felt some type of jealousy seeing his family be happy in those pictures. they even went on a trip, on different places and many more. satoru looked happy. maybe if those mistakes were prevented back then, it would be you, him and sanyu.

there were missed calls and unread messages from suguru and shoko but you didn't have the energy to reply to each of them.

you just wanted to lay in your bed all day, almost wishing that sanyu would knock at your door asking for a help with his assignment, but no, it wouldn't happen anymore. you were all alone now, you'll never be able to feel happiness again, everything felt too empty for you to feel any type of emotions except for sorrow.

-

your eyes slowly opened when you felt something cold in your forehead.

"you're finally awake."

"what happened?" you asked as you tried to sit up from the bed, only for satoru to push you back.

"don't stand up yet. you passed out on the living room. you've been sleeping for a day already. are you eating? don't starve yourself." he talks too fast that you almost didn't catch his words.

"why are you here?" you asked.

"well.. i guess i want to know more about sanyu." he said as he hesitantly looked at you. "i'm sorry for walking around your house without your permission but, i saw a small shrine on the room beside here. is that sanyu's?" satoru asked as you nod at him.

"i forgot to tell you but i had sanyu cremated."

"okay, i understand."

"you can visit him anytime if you want."

"that would be great. thank you."

satoru did visit once a week. you noted that it was always on thursdays, just like suguru had told you that satoru's always available on thursdays.

your house would be messy if satoru wasn't around but if you knew that he'll be visiting, you'll force yourself to clean the house. you didn't want him to see you in worst state again, not anymore. he didn't have to know that you were starving yourself, that you would only eat when he brings you food.

he doesn't need to know. not that he would care, right? satoru is not in the position to care for you after all. he only visits for his son, it's wasn't because of you. maybe you should stop being delusional and face the reality that satoru and you couldn't work together anymore. he already has a family on his own. he has nothing to do with you anymore. a part of you is still hoping though but then again, he doesn't need to know.

there was a time where satoru visited you on tuesday. it was unexpected that he caught you almost hurting yourself. house and room messy.

it hurts him to see you like this. he couldn't help but to compare the old you to the you now. a big difference. he doesn't see you smile anymore. he doesn't hear your laugh anymore.

"you needn't to hurt yourself, okay? tell me if i can help in any way." he said as you sit on the couch, knees close to your chest as you stare at nothing.

your thoughts was playing with you because all of the sudden, you recalled everything that has happened between you and satoru. his mistakes, his wrongdoings, his happy family. your blood started to boil and you couldn't help but blame him in your mind. that it was his fault why sanyu have to suffer.

"hey, i know it still hurting you but—"

"you know nothing!" you exclaimed which took him off guard. he was unfamiliar with that look in your face.

"(name), calm down." he said as he tried to reach for you, only for you to slap his hand away.

"shut up! don't order me around! can you just leave my house?" you yelled. "this is all your fault." you mumbled and satoru heard it loud and clear. you weren't wrong though. "leave! i don't want to see you anymore. i hate you."

-

and even if you push him as many times as you want, satoru would not lose hope. he still visits you and sanyu. though he took note of the changes in your mood sometimes.

satoru visited late than usual. you already fell asleep on the couch. you swore you weren't waiting for him or something. it just happened that you got tired from the cleaning the house.

after the usual visit of you and satoru in your child's room both decided to eat the food he brought.

"sorry i was late. i had a hard time choosing a ring—" he cuts off himself with a fake cough as he looked away from you. "anyway, sorry for making you wait."

"it's fine. thank you for bringing me food."

"of course."

today, you seemed a lot more good now. satoru can notice you smile everytime. he didn't want to assume that you're smiling because of him though.

"is there something wrong?" he asked when he noticed you staring at him.

"i'm fine. thank you for visiting." you said as you walked satoru at the front door. "oh wait." you said, walking back to your room as satoru stood still on the front door and you went back after a minute.

"take this." you said, handing him a certain necklace.

"for me?" satoru said, taking the necklace in your hand.

"i asked them to put a little bit of sanyu ashes inside. you can't open that anymore since they locked it." satoru's eyes widened at your words.

"thank you." he said as you smiled at him.

"here, let me help." you said, as you wear the necklace on him. "sanyu will always be by your side, wherever you are." you said as you smiled and suddenly, satoru turned around, his face was too close to you and you think he could almost hear on how loud your beating heart is.

you awkwardly took a step back as you cleared your throat to ease the awkward tension.

"thank you (name), really. i will treasure this." he said as you smiled at him, for the last time.

"sorry for yelling at you sometimes, satoru."

"don't worry, i understand. just let me know if you want to release some stress. i'll try my best to help." he said and despite of answering, you only smiled, again.

"thank you, satoru. sanyu was the best son i could ever have." you said and he suddenly placed a hand on your head. like how he always does before as he leaned to your level.

"thank you for raising our child." he said as you look at him with widened eyes and you couldn't help but frown as you place a hand close to your chest.

stop giving me false hope, satoru.

"take care." you couldn't help but tear up as you whispered those words as satoru left. be happy, always. even if it's without me.

"i had a hard time choosing a ring." you mumbled, mimicking his words.

you smiled but what you were feeling inside was opposite. maybe you shouldn't expect too much because in the end, if reality didn't reach your expectations, it'll just hurt you more.

it really hurts to think that you made a man for another woman but, it is what it is. you're just glad that satoru seemed to cherish his new family now.

he did changed a lot, huh.

"satoru."

"be quick, suguru. i'm a bit busy right now." satoru said as he heard his best friend sigh at the other line.

"did (name) said something to you?" satoru immediately sat properly on his office chair when he heard your name.

"nothing much. she gave me a necklace though, why?"

"i see. look, if you have time today come in her house."

"why? what happened?"

"do you have a time today, at least?"

"i guess i could try." satoru said. "is there something wrong with (name)." satoru asked and there was a long pause from suguru's end before he answered.

-

satoru went back from what it seemed like a long trip as he sat on his office chair.

he stared at a certain velvet box on his table. his black glasses was discarded as he lightly move the office chair left to right.

he did had a hard time choosing a ring. he doesn't know of you still like the same design. did you change your preferences?he doesn't know that's why satoru bought a limited edition ring for you. he was told that the ring brings luck and now he just wanted to throw the ring in the middle of an ocean.

"brings luck my ass." he muttered. he was too tired to think. he refused to believe suguru's words because he just saw you 2 days ago. was suguru playing pranks on him again?

"she's been found in her room. unalive." suguru's words kept repeating inside his head like a broken radio as he clutched the necklace on his hand.

he was supposed to ask you to start over again, to try things out again, from there, he swore that he wouldn't do the same mistake again but it was all too late now.

maybe the universe didn't want you and him to be together again that's why they took you away from him, his son too. he knew he did mistakes back then but was it too much that they have to take his family away forever?

yeah, this must be his punishment for doing those unforgiving things to you.

-

"suguru, do you think (name) would agree if i ask her to start over again?"

"there's nothing wrong with trying, satoru, but know that people tend to change. don't be surprised when she doesn't want you in her life anymore." suguru said as his best friend kept quiet. "but what about them?"

"who?"

"your ex and your son."

"i couldn't care less about her, but i still cherish sanyu since he grew up with me, even if he's not my legal child."

"you don't really want to tell (name) about it?" suguru suggested and satoru couldn't help but think if he could do what his best friend is suggesting.

"what's the point? will it change everything?" satoru mumble, an ache going straight to his chest. "it hurts for me to say this but i only accepted to raise sanyu because i couldn't stop thinking of (name), of having a family with her. i forced myself to believe that he's our son. i didn't even know that (name) is actually carrying our child."

"why don't you just sue your ex for paternity fraud?"

"there's no point in it. she's still sanyu's mother."

"you're too nice, satoru."

no, he wasn't. in fact, he almost sent his ex to prison but he couldn't stop thinking of how sanyu will react if he found out that his mother was sent to jail by his father. he was too young for those things.

but satoru asks himself, why? why does he have to do these things? why does he have to think of how sanyu would feel? they weren't relatives anyway. he could take everything he spent for raising sanyu, he could just leave them to live their own life, but he just couldn't do it.

"if only i could go back in time." satoru mumbled and suguru didn't know what do respond to that anymore. if only.

tags: @skylarlyn823 @mo0nforme @mor-pheus @he4rts444mi @bubblysunwoosworld @arieltate @imaniitheoneee @kaiiriiis @ichikanu @witchbybirth @yoimiya-m @hojoslutoru @itsvalomfg I COULDN'T TAG THE OTHERS SORRY TvT

[greatstormcat]

So those android!141 thoughts I mentioned yesterday…

It was a posting you’d been dreaming of for years, working on the highly prestigious TF141 project. It was the pride of the British military, a team of four state of the art androids owned and operated by the SAS and CIA in a joint project. Created to go to places no human could ever reach, achieve missions no human could ever hope to, in conditions that no human could endure. And when they got shot, blown up or damaged…? Well, someone like you would just piece them painstakingly back together.

What you hadn’t expected were the long, tedious waits between their operational periods. You were no soldier, just a technical specialist, so living on base was not your ideal situation. All the shouting and yelling of the people on base got to you, the crowds making you uncomfortable in the mess and highlighting how much you didn’t fit in. The quiet of the hanger where the 141 were housed for storage and maintenance became your default home eventually as no one bothered coming here.

It amused you that the four large, not quite human looking statues became your main companions, resting in the reclined docking pods that protected them and monitored their functions. They were not be activated until they were ready for their first exercise, so you spent time maintaining, improving and caring for them.

They looked so close to human, almost as though they were sleeping in the open fronted pods in their plain fatigues. You were told their features had been modelled on real soldiers from some point in time, each utterly unique in appearance so they could blend in with civilian populations. Their heights and builds were different, and the lead unit, B-06, had even been painstakingly given a beard. The simulated skin that covered them felt soft, not quite as soft as human skin but a good enough replication to fool anyone who didn’t know the difference.

You found yourself talking to them as you worked, telling them about something you’d read, or a show you’d watched as you went about your duties. It became a habit to explain to them what you were doing when you opened one of them up and made alterations to an internal part or another. Even at the end of the day, you said goodnight to the four figures, totally still and silent as they lay in their repose.

You put a suggestion forward that they should have names, to make it easier to move them through clandestine operations, and it doesn’t take much more to get the brass to agree. You receive files from Kate to update each android with a name and basic background, and who could really blame you for spicing up the programming with a few additional traits. So what did it matter if B-06, now know as John Price, likes cigars and single malt? Who would ever know that B-05, now Kyle Garrick, liked the colour blue? Programmers were always adding little Easter eggs to their work, why shouldn’t you do the same?

After a few quiet months, odd things began occurring. The feeling of being watched became a constant, which you put down to the security camera that were installed to protect the… assets. The word made you so uncomfortable. Then you began to catch movement from the corner of your eye, but saw nothing there and no one else in the room. Your nerves jangled, and you comforted yourself by talking to the boys, as you now called them.

On one occasion while working on the Kyle, connecting a data cable to a port beneath his dark, curled hair, you swear his full lips had twitched while you chattered away, pulling on the little scar below his left eye. You sat back and stared at him carefully, watching for any other sign of movement in his features. On a whim you trailed your fingertips along the inside of his forearm, down towards his palm. What you hadn’t expected was him to grab your wrist as you touched his palm. Your breath left you in a whoosh and you sprang back, startled, but he lay in his pod utterly unmoving and eyes shut. The moment crawled on, but nothing else happened, and you forced yourself to go back over to the machine, convincing yourself it was a power surge.

When the call came from Laswell to prepare them for a training exercise with a team of US Marines she was bringing, you were so excited. You began prep immediately, running diagnostics and telling them what was going to be happening, that they’d get to show off their stuff and you’d be so proud to finally see them in action.

The morning arrives to wake them up…. No, that wasn’t right. You were activating them, you remind yourself, these aren’t people. They are machines, but what did it hurt to treat them with respect and dignity, really?

“Right boys, it’s time to rise and shine,” you announce as you carry a cup of coffee into the hanger with you, smiling happily. “You need to show those Marines exactly what you can do today, prove just how great you are.”

You busy yourself with switching on the various terminals, lost in scrolling commands and data. You don’t hear Price move from his docking pod and move over to you, you don't notice him until he touches your shoulder and rumbles into your ear with a deep voice.

“Good morning to you too.”

Your coffee spills from your hand to the concrete floor as you spin, spluttering with terror.

“What are you doing? How… why are you…?!” words tumble from your lips and eyes go wide as you gawp at the huge man-shaped machine standing so close you are pinned against the desk.

“You said it was time to wake up,” he… it smiles, blue eyes looking over your face carefully.

“I… I didn’t type the command to wake you up though,” you hiss.

“You didn’t need to, I heard you,” he answers, as though explaining something obvious you should understand.

“That doesn’t make sense though,” you insist, “you were… off.”

“Huh, what good am I if I’m not aware of what’s going on?” he grins, leaning closer, planting his hands on either side of you on the desk behind you. Trapping you. With a jolt you notice the others are all quietly climbing from their pods unbidden, eyes focused on you and Price.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” you whisper, keenly aware that your job and entire career could be in jeopardy if this project fails, a tiny voice also suggesting you could be in danger.

“Things change, especially when the operation needs it,” Simon announces as he walks closer, taller than all of the others by far, and looms over Price’s shoulder.

“What’s going on? Who gave the order to activate them?” Laswell’s voice cuts through the tension like a whip, but all four androids remain focused on you. Price gives you an expectant look, his head tilting to the side ever so slightly.

“I… I…. was running a diagnostic and… woke them up,” you lie to Laswell, glancing briefly towards the blonde woman as she nears.

“Well, I’d appreciate it if you waited in future,” she grumbles. Price finally steps back, looking somehow smug at your subterfuge, keeping his body between you and Laswell as he turns to her and nods.

“Laswell,” he says simply, and she eyes him with beaming pride. All she sees are the four mechanised soldiers that serve her purpose, she doesn’t understand they shouldn’t be able to decide to activate themselves.

“This is going to be interesting,” she says to you, and your stomach churns. She doesn’t seem to care or notice that the four machines are behaving in too human a manner.

[crimsonfeatheredraven]

I can't help but to think that one of the major, core things about Jason Todd is that he loves people more than they love him, or at least he loves people that can't show him that they love him in specific ways.

Bruce: accused him of murder at the age of 15 and didn't believe him when he said he didn't do it, didn't notice that he left the country (I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that was the case), put up the case™ calling Jason a 'good soldier', shit talked Jason and blamed him for his death after Tim and the others came into the picture, threw a batarang at Jason's throat and left him to bleed out in the rubble, dragged Jason to the site of his murder instead of asking him how he got back like a normal human being, beat the shit out of Jason and kicked him out of his home city after Jay 'shot' Penguin instead of using his words and asking Jason why, didn't apologize but simply justified his actions as Jason needing to be smacked around once in a while, Gotham...War. He says that he loves Jason but still did these things and Jason still goes back to him after rocking his shit a little.

Alfred: apparently also shit talked Jason after mourning for a bit. Also, I'm pretty sure that I read somewhere that he's the one who came up with the 'A Good Soldier ' plaque. Jason would still do anything for him.

Sh*ila: saw this 5'3 kid who placed his complete trust in her and wanted to help her to the best of his ability and almost eagerly led him like a lamb to the slaughter to gain an advantage, smoked with watching him get beat with a crowbar, only gave a shit about her actions when it was her turn to find out. Jason tried to protect her from the blast.

I can't really blame Catherine for anything because she was sick and it is what it is. It sucks ass and it's shit but what could have anyone really done?

He looked up to Barbara and one of the first things that she said to him was that he'll never be Dick Grayson.

The point is that it seems like he gives too much of himself to people or hold them in high regard and they either leave him because of extenuating circumstances, die, or decide to go, "fuck you, specifically".

He's been failed by almost every single parent he's ever had and he keeps going back to them. Any other relationship turns to dust at his fingertips. He's like the opposite of King Midas. His story is a tragedy and I love him so much.

[macfrog]

rack 'em

the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader

summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets

word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)

main masterlist

When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.

You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.

The mom had tattoos.

Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.

One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.

They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.

But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.

As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.

His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.

Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.

One: do not enter his room ever again.

Two: no touching his stuff.

And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.

You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.

So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.

It’s like old times.

“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”

Santiago’s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.

You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.

“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”

He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”

You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”

He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.

“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.

“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.

“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”

Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”

Mal snorts.

“Hey, lil Santi!”

You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.

“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”

“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”

“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.

By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.

But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.

Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.

Well. All but one.

Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.

Always have, always will.

He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.

You hated him. Fucking hated him.

And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.

You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.

“You here to poison my drink?”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.

“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”

He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”

Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.

“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”

“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”

“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”

Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.

“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”

You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.

You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.

You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.

“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.

He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”

“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.

Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.

It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.

The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.

She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.

“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.

She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”

“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”

Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.

“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”

“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”

Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”

You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.

The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.

“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.

He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.

But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.

Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.

Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.

You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”

“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.

“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”

You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”

His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.

“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.

“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”

Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.

“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”

“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”

“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”

“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”

“No way. Mom would kill me.”

“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”

He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”

“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”

Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.

“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.

Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”

He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”

“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.

You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.

“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.

But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.

“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”

He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”

You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.

On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.

“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.

Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.

“Just tell me when.”

“When what?”

“To start going easy on you.”

Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!

One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.

Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.

The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.

He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.

The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.

Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.

It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.

He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.

“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.

Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.

“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”

You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.

“It was a good attempt,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”

You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”

“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”

You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.

“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”

Frankie’s head cocks. “You don’t think you’ve had enough?”

“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”

He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”

“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”

He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”

You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.

Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.

Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.

The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.

He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.

So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?

Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.

“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.

You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”

“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”

“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”

“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”

You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.

“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.

She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.

“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”

“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.

It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.

You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.

As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.

“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”

“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”

“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.

“Are you lost?”

He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”

“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.

“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”

Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”

He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.

Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”

You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”

The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.

It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.

So then, why can’t he walk away?

You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.

“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”

“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”

He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.

His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.

“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”

“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.

“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.

“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”

“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.

Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.

But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.

He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.

“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.

Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.

“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”

“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”

“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.

“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.

“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.

He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.

Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –

“I’m the asshole.”

He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.

His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.

Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.

“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”

And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.

“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”

“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.

Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.

If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.

The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.

The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.

You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.

And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.

You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.

You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.

“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”

“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.

Frankie nods again. “I should go.”

You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.

You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.

And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.

Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.

He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”

You cock your head. “Hm?”

“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”

He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.

“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”

----------

taglist: @serenaxpedro @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @pattwtf @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

[joelmillershirtlessishwhatineed]

Forbidden From You

Part 2: Illicit Arrangement

Word count: 3,193

Warnings: spanking (only a few times nothing extreme), p in v x2 (unprotected, please be safe!), rough sex, dirty talk, Joel is dominant, there's some degradation, possession (be safe), exhibitionism, they get caught, oral (f receiving).

Author's Note: Dudes, the forbidden love trope is the hottest thing I will ever read.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You never thought you'd get another chance at love. Not twenty years deep into the apocalypse, and especially not with Joel Miller. You had been there when Jackson had first started building itself up, standing alongside Tommy Miller, whom you had fought with as a Firefly for a few years. You were attached at the hip, only feeling truly safe when he was by your side. It was never anything more than platonic love, with Tommy acting more like your older brother than anything else.

When Joel Miller had arrived in Jackson one early morning, you knew you were destined to fall for him. With Tommy now off dating Maria, finally getting the life he had always talked about, you had been wandering around alone. You found yourself seeing Joel around more often, seemingly all alone. He was never with anyone else, always talking with someone for a brief moment before politely leaving the conversation. Lonely like you.

"I think you should get out more." Tommy casually mentioned once, dragging his arm over his girlfriend's shoulders. "Plenty of guys that'd be lucky to have ya."

"Where did that come from?" You question him, raising an eyebrow at him. You had tried dating before; only one guy ever came close to a second date. "No one is very interesting here."

Maria shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Joel's interesting. I know you're into the mysterious guys."

Tommy sat up, removing his arm. "No, no way. Anyone but Joel." He laughed, oblivious to the pink hue that spread from your nose to your cheeks. "What about Mikey?"

Mikey was the exact opposite of Joel; you cringed. "Think I'm happy being single." You spoke instead.

A few days later, you were sitting in Tommy and Maria's kitchen, drinking their scarce amount of coffee, when their front door opened, none other than Joel walked in, not yet noticing you. You awkwardly look down at the table, bringing your mug to your lips. When he did notice you, however, he paused.

Over the past few days, your run-ins with Joel had increased. It seemed as if you were running into him around every corner, always making eye contact with him. You never spoke to each other, never smiled. You only stared at each other for a few seconds before continuing on.

Tommy smiled next to you, gesturing for Joel to sit down. "Have you two met? Obviously, this is my brother, Joel." He mentioned, looking at you.

You stop drinking and put the mug down, looking up at Joel, who had slowly sat down in front of you. You offer him your name, "I work at the little daycare here."

Joel slowly nods, "Nice to meet you." His short response didn't shock you. After all, you had never seen him willingly interact with anyone but his brother.

Maria sent you a glance, looking at Joel for a second before looking back at you. Tommy, oblivious as usual, carried on talking to his brother, who seemed to look very uninterested. Throughout the half an hour you had been over there, you and Joel had looked at each other a hundred times. Only fleeting glances, the type where you looked straight away when you caught his eye.

When you were finally ready to leave, Tommy stopped you at the door and said, "Why don't you let Joel walk you home? You're on the same street, I think."

How hadn't you noticed? You hesitantly looked at Joel, who stared right back at you. You nod, "Okay. See you, Tommy." And you were off. The walk back was quiet, not uncomfortable, it seemed as if you shared the same harmony as Joel, not needing to say anything.

You hated how you were feeling as you walked alongside him. How you were feeling so worked up over nothing; a few glances between the two of you had you practically dripping through your underwear. "This is me." You break the silence, halting to a stop. You watch each other for a second before you speak again. "I have more coffee if you want to come inside."

Joel hesitated, looking away from you and up to your front door. "Yeah... Okay." He followed behind you as you made your way up your porch and you started feeling a little self conscious about the state of your house.

He was onto you the second you closed your door; the strength behind his kiss pushed you back onto the door, and he lifted his knee, pushing it between your legs. He nodded as your head flew back, your hips subconsciously grinding down against him. With your neck now exposed, Joel moved his head down, leaving a trail of messy kisses from your chin down to the middle of your neck, making sure not to leave any noticeable marks.

"Shouldn't be here." He muttered into your skin, "Not allowed." Contradicting his words, he stayed still with his knee still pressed against your clit, his mouth continuing its assault on your neck.

"Don't tell, then." You breathe out, using your nails to gently scrape across his scalp, tugging at some of his hair. He groaned out, his hands tightening on your waist, before moving up to grope your breasts.

A few minutes later, he had you bent over the kitchen table, your pants and underwear left at the bottom of your feet. Joel's belt scraped against your thighs with every hard thrust he delivered. The sounds of your skin colliding echoed through the room, alongside your loud moans. Your breasts moved against the cool counter every time his hips moved, the sensation of the temperature on your nipples becoming almost unbearably arousing.

"Fuckin' tight." He groaned, delivering a harsh slap on your ass before smoothing the skin out with his large, warm hand. The sweetness in his touches couldn't compare to the intensity of his fucking. It was hard, quick, and messy. Arousal spilled out of you and down the length of him, some managing to drip onto the floor. "You liked that, did you?" Joel asked, smacking your ass once more, analysing your reaction.

You moaned out louder, your head falling between your shoulders. You could just incoherently hear yourself repeating 'yes', over and over again. "I'm going to cum." He didn't say anything in response, instead, he pulled you up by your shoulders, using this added leverage to fuck into you harder. He pulled you back onto his cock with every thrust, his mouth right by your ear.

"Want you to come around my cock, make me feel it." Joel muttered, one of his arms moving to the front of your bare chest, holding you in place as his other arm moved down your body, his fingers brushing against your clit. "Makes it feel better, you being off-limits. Fuck, made me want ya even more." Joel rambled, using his fingers to slowly circle your clit, a jolt of electricity burned through your abdomen, and you were coming.

"Yes, yes." You whispered, your hands pathetically moving to the sides of the broad man behind you, gripping onto the sides of his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. Your cunt tightened around his cock as you came, helping him reach his own orgasm. Suddenly, you feel empty, his body moving away from yours as spurts of his cum shot out onto the crack of your ass.

"Stay there." Joel muttered, pulling up his jeans. After securing his belt, he moved over to grab your kitchen rag, wetting it slightly before using it to clean up the mess.

When you turned around and put on the majority of your clothes, he was already heading to the door. You hesitated before speaking. "Please don't tell Tommy about this. Dunno why you would... but. He'd probably kill us both."

Joel slowly nodded, looking at you for a second before opening your door, "Just a quick fuck, won't tell anyone." He clarified, sending one last glance your way before heading outside, gently closing the door behind you.

You had assumed that would be the only time with him and that after a taste, your craving would be fulfilled. You couldn't be more wrong. Every time you saw him out after that night, your need refuelled for him. It didn't help seeing him be so polite and handy around Jackson.

Your guilt, on the other hand, was eating you alive. You could barely look Tommy in the eye anymore, knowing that you had gone and fucked the one person he hadn't approved of. It's not as if Tommy had any control over your decisions, it was the trust and strong bond you had with him that made him protective of you, and you respected that. You were protective of him as well.

Joel lasted a week before he was back at your doorstep, a pure look of desperation plastered on his face. "This can't happen again." He muttered, stepping away from you after fucking you on your couch. You had instantly agreed, thinking back to the suspicious glances Tommy had started to send your way when you were deep in thought about the way his brother would hold you and treat you.

A few days later, you were sitting in the Diner, face-to-face with a man whom Tommy had set you up with. He wasn't ugly; he let you talk about whatever you wanted, listened to you, and asked questions when it was appropriate; but he wasn't Joel. This man was kind- almost too kind- you knew that there wouldn't be any passion in a potential relationship.

Mike, or Mikey, was talking about his patrols when your gaze wondered off behind his head. Joel was standing by the entrance, his eyes already watching you when you looked over. It was very obvious what you were doing with Mikah, you were at a secluded table in the corner on a date. With a nod so subtle you questioned whether or not you had actually seen it, Joel was walking back outside, disappearing to the side of the building.

“I’m so sorry.” You interrupt Miles, standing up. “God, I’ve just forgotten. I need to finish something! This has been great… you’re great. But I need to go.” With a small smile, you left your date at the table, rushing off outside in the general direction you had seen Joel wander off in. As you were looking around for him, a hand shot out and grabbed you, taking you down the small alleyway next to the Diner.

Joel looked down at you, his left hand pressed against the wall by your head, “Why were you with Mikey?”

“Ah, that’s his name.” You mumble back, thinking back to the time Tommy had suggested you’d go out with him. “Your brother set us up.” You shrugged, daringly looking right back into his eyes. "He's kind of cute."

Joel chuckled dryly, tilting his head slightly, "Oh, yeah? Were you gonna take him home? Let him fuck you across the counter? On the couch? Wouldn't feel the same would it?" He questioned, bringing his right hand up to tilt your chin further up. "He wouldn't feel as good as I do, wouldn't he?"

You could do nothing else but shake your head, agreeing with his words. "You gonna let me eat your pretty pussy here? Let me have a taste?" Joel asked, leaning his head down to kiss your cheek gently, nuzzling your skin with his nose. Your head was nodding before you could realise it, and then he was already lowering himself to his knees.

The skirt you were wearing was lifted up over your thighs; you held it up for him, leaning your pelvis forward as your shoulders and head rested against the bricks behind you. Your panties were tugged from you and shoved to the bottom of your foot as Joel lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. His breath fanned your exposed pussy, tingles of nervousness and arousal shot through you.

"Gonna be quiet for me? Don't wanna get caught." Joel looked at you, watching as you slowly nodded your head. Once satisfied, he leant his head forward and made first contact with your clit. His tongue flicked out of his mouth, teasing your body as your eyes flickered shut, fighting off the need to shove his tongue right into you.

After a few teasingly slow licks, his whole mouth closed around your throbbing pussy, not giving you a moment to get used to the new sensation as he started taking. He ate you out like a starved man, slurping up all the juices that escaped the proximity of his mouth. You struggled to keep quiet, having to use your hand to silence your breathy moans.

You knew you weren't going to last long; with Joel moving his mouth against you like a professional and the risk of being caught, it had you on the edge of your orgasm pretty fast. Your leg shook against his head, your pelvis subconsciously lifting up to further take in Joel's movements. Knowing how close you were to coming, his tongue only sped up its pace, now inserting into your pussy as his nose tickled your clit. In just a few seconds, you came, tugging on Joel's hair and pushing him away from your oversensitive body.

Seeing Joel act jealous and possessive made you feel warmer; obviously, those feelings had to be coming from want or care. These questions and thoughts had you daydreaming all day, wondering whether or not Joel actually cared for you or if he just wanted to be the only man having sex with you. In usual Joel fashion, he had stayed clear of you the next few days after he'd eaten you out in public, his head always down.

Tommy sat on your couch, drinking from the glass of water you had given him. "So... I heard about your date. Mikey said you ran off during it? What happened?"

You exhale deeply, bringing your hand to your face. "I don't know, Tommy... Mikey is kind, but I just wasn't interested. I dunno what to say."

Tommy watched you for a moment; an awkward silence lingered through the air. "Is there someone else?"

"What?" You scoff, laughing gently. "No."

"That was the most suspicious answer you could've given me." He argued, sitting up straight. His foot gently colliding with the tool box he had brought over after his working day. "If there is someone, that's fine! I'll tell Mikey some lie, get him with someone else in Jackson."

You smile slightly, "Uh, yeah. That would be great... If you could tell him that," A small pause. "You should probably get home to your girl, Miller. Tell her I say hi."

Tommy nodded, taking his empty glass to your kitchen sink before heading out, sending you a final goodbye before he was off. You had just closed the door when someone started knocking at it. Quick, heavy knocks. You knew it was Joel before you opened it, and you started mentally preparing yourself to lecture him about ghosting you after fucking you.

You didn't get that far, however, for as soon as you opened the door, your lips were being devoured by his. "Been waiting fucking ages for him to leave." Joel muttered against your lips, backing you into your house and closing the front door with his foot.

"Why do you fuck me and then ignore me?" You asked him, ripping his belt out of his jeans before shoving them down. You jumped up onto the kitchen counter, wrapping your legs around him as he took off your dress, tugging your panties off your body after.

Joel practically growled out a response as he hungrily kissed your breasts, palming them with his large hands, "I keep trynna stay away. Tommy warned me not to touch you. Can't help myself."

"Please fuck me." You moan out, your head falling back as he pulled himself out of his boxers, already hard and dripping with pre-cum. His body fit between yours like a puzzle piece, his cock bobbing up to his stomach as he lifted a finger to your slick pussy.

"You wet enough for me?" Joel asked, smiling softly to himself at your breathless 'yes'. With your consent, he fisted his cock, jerking it off a few times before bringing it to your dripping entrance, easily slipping in. The feeling of him entering was a feeling you were sure you'd never get used to, his thick length stretching you out and reaching places that had never been touched before.

He started off slow, more so grinding into you than thrusting. He held eye contact with you, one hand on your waist and his other hand holding one of your legs to his hip. You moaned softly, lips parted as he moved down, his abdomen brushing against yours. With time, his thrusts got harder, his pace moving from loving to unforgiving. His balls hit your ass every time he fucked into you, his eyebrows furrowed with concentration.

Over the passionate sounds, you could just barely hear a knock on the front door, Tommy's voice soon calling out. Your eyes widened as you sat up further, your forehead gently colliding with Joel's. He shook his head at you, "Just ignore it. Focus on this."

Easier said than done.

Tommy's voice called out through the door once more, "I left my toolbox inside! Can I come in and get it?"

You panickily shouted back, "No! Uh, not right now!" You groaned in frustration, clinging onto Joel's biceps, his pace not once slowing down. "Fuck, Joel slow down." You whimpered, your legs tightening around his hips.

"Are you with someone right now? Is this the guy?' Tommy shouted back, knocking on the door again. Joel shook his head, mumbling something to himself before reaching down and fingering your clit, making you almost shout out.

You shoved your hand to your mouth for a few seconds, breathing in deeply before answering, "Please, Tommy- fuck- Come back later!" You could hear Tommy laughing on the other side of the door, clearly oblivious to what was actually happening.

When the door handle attempted to turn, Joel snapped, leaning back straight. "Go away, Tommy!" The silence outside was deafening, the realisation hitting the younger Miller like a ton of bricks.

"It's Joel? You're fucking my brother? Oh god!" Tommy yelled, his footsteps moving away from the door and down the steps of the porch. Your orgasm hit you out of no where, a loud moan slipping from your lips as your body fell limp, succumbing to the pleasure.

Joel's hips came to an uneven and unsteady pace, his cock pulsing inside of you as he stumbled to his release. Your legs weakened their grip around his body, expecting him to pull out, but you were shocked when he instead pulled your legs back into place, holding them tightly against him as he came inside you. His cum leaked out of you as he pulled away, a truly suggestive sight.

"Whoops." Joel muttered, gesturing to the front door where his younger brother had finally come to the realisation.

[its-time-to-write]

hi! Could you please write something with like reader opening the door one day when Roy stars knocking for training but reader and Jamie aren’t open about their relationship yet? I think it would be cute xx

I also thought this was cute. Not sure if anyone notices/cares, but all my titles are song lyrics based ever so loosely on the vibe I am trying to convey. Thanks for another great request!

what it is

Someone’s aggressively knocking on the door and as you roll over to check the time. It’s 4am, and you poke Jamie who is fast asleep beside you.

“Babe,” you whisper, “someone’s at the door.”

Jamie groans and mumbles something incoherent. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can tell something’s off. You reach out your hand and feel his forehead. It’s burning up.

The knocking continues and Jamie lets out another groan and says something that sounds like raining? Oh. Training. You remember he trains every morning at 4, but you’ve never seen who he goes with. He just kisses you in your sleep and is back right as you wake up for the day. 

You roll out of bed, grab one his sweatshirts from the floor, and pad downstairs to the door.

You swing open the door mid-knock. The man on the other side lowers his fist, looks at you all squinty for a moment, then says, “Who the fuck’re you?”

You return the look. “I live here. Who the fuck are you?”

The man scoffs. “No, you fucking don’t. This is Jamie Tartt’s house. Jesus fucking Christ, is he fucking blowing off training because of a fucking one-night stand?”

Oh. You know who this is. This is Roy Kent. You didn’t know he was the one training Jamie, but you guess it makes sense based on how much Jamie talks about him. It’s Roy Kent this, and Roy Kent that, and Roy says I need to eat more protein, and Roy said my hair looked funny today, does it look funny to you? 

You sigh. You and Jamie have been together for three months, and you basically live at his house. You’re really only at your flat to change clothes. You have a toothbrush, pajamas, and half a wardrobe at Jamie’s. Your books have started to make their way onto his shelves too, as you read them and then leave them for him to start. That was a little bit of an accident at first, after you left This Side of Paradise one night and came back to a different bookmark on page 34.

Anyway, Roy Kent doesn’t know you’re dating Jamie, or that anyone is. You suppose in his mind, Jamie is happily single, fucking around like the twenty-something year old footballer he is. 

Roy is still looking at you expectantly, so say, “I do live here. Why don’t you come in?” and hold open the door a bit wider. 

Roy’s face says fuck it, and he follows you inside to the kitchen. 

“Can I get you some tea?” you ask quietly, although Jamie can sleep through anything. 

Roy seems surprised by the question, but says, “Yeah, sure,” as he stands by the kitchen island.

“Jamie’s sick,” you say. “He’s still asleep upstairs. I doubt he’ll be up for training today.”

“Right, yeah,” says Roy, “I’m sorry, but who the fuck are you? Jamie’s not fucking supposed to be doing the whole one-night stand thing, he told me it’s too fucking distracting from training.”

You chuckle. “That’s comedy gold right there. Yeah, no, I’m not a one-night stand. I’m his girlfriend.”

Roy’s impressive eyebrows lift in shock, and you laugh again and give him your name. “Didn’t know I existed, did you? I’m not one for crowds or a big fuss. I told Jamie if we made it four months than he could start telling people. He was a little upset, but,” you shrug, “no point in making it a big deal if we just break up, right?”

You can practically see the wheels turning in Roy’s brain as he does the math.

“So you’re telling me that you’ve been fucking dating this little prick for three fucking months, and he hasn’t fucking said anything?”

You nod. 

“Fuckkk,” Roy whispers, “that makes so much fucking sense.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“He’s been less of a prick recently,” Roy explains, “More considerate, been carrying around fucking books and shit. Not fucking flirting with everything that fucking moves. Thought maybe he was just taking beating Zava too fucking seriously.”

You nod and move to pour the tea. You and Roy both turn as you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. It’s Jamie, who is wearing a headlamp, pajama shirt, athletic vest, and a single sock. And, thank God, pants.

“Ready for training coach,” he says with a salute, but the action almost makes him fall over. He looks all pale and sweaty, with bags under his eyes.

“Told you he was sick,” you say.

“Fuckin’ hell,” is all Roy can come up with.

Jamie seems to notice you for the first time and breaks out into a smile. “Roy! Look! I have a girlfriend,” he says, words a little slurred while pointing to you.

It’s punctuated by a “Jesus Christ,” from Roy as Jamie wobbles, unsteady on his feet from his fever.

“Alright, mister,” you say. “Back to bed.”

Jamie frowns. “Always so mean,” he says. He does an imitation of your voice, “No Jamie, you can’t tell Roy about us. Yes Jamie, I know Roy’s your best friend. No Jamie, I don’t think you love Roy more than me.” He looks at Roy as you sling his arm around your shoulders, supporting him at his waist. He puts his fingertips on your lips as he says, “See what I have to put up with?”

You roll your eyes and suppress a smile as Roy says, “What you have to put up with?”

Jamie is so loopy right now. He lays his head on yours and smiles again. “Look at this. Me two favorite people, finally meeting. You should stay for dinner, coach.”

Roy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. You can tell he’s trying not to laugh as you both mutually decide not to point out that it is now 4:30am and dinner is a long, long way away.

“Let’s go get you out of those clothes and into bed,” you say as you start to lead him back to your room. 

Jamie casts a look back at Roy and wiggles his eyebrows. “Babe, you can’t just say things like that in front of granddad. Might give him a heart attack. Old people are such prudes.”

“Go to sleep, Tartt,” Roy says. He looks at you and says softly, “I can see myself out.”

You smile and wave with your free hand. “It was nice to meet you,” you say. “Hopefully we can meet again under more normal circumstances.”

Roy nods once and does what you think is a smile? He turns and heads out the door as you maneuver Jamie upstairs. Jamie Tartt has a girlfriend. And a good one at that. What is the world coming to?

[blackswan446]

Could you please write about yandere who's a fuckboy? At first he was just gonna play with her reader's heart but ended up being obsessed with her. Any member is fine. Thank you so much in advance if you end up writing it!

lifetime.

→ pairing: yan!jjk x reader

→ synopsis: we live for so many years, why not make them the happiest you can?

→ wc: 5362

→ cws: kidnapping/coercion, death, funeral, sexual advances

→ notes: yay my first ask! hope you enjoy, and sorry it took so long :(

part two || m.list

jungkook was a womanizer.

at least, that's what everybody else called him. he liked to think of himself as...social. sure, he got around a bit, but that's just how young men lived. especially young men like him. born with a silver spoon in his mouth, the man was set up for success from the moment he was born. who cares if that success came at the expense of a childhood with present parents and a sense of family beyond a name?

needless to say, jungkook's reputation followed him wherever he went, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing for him. it gained him a different type of respect from other men of his status, and only seemed to draw more and more women into his addictive orbit, no thanks to his looks and suave personality. assistants, secretaries, office workers, even the wives of others, you name the woman, if she was around jungkook for a while, it's more than likely they had something going on.

what a shame he never stuck around. what a shame he would lure them in, with promises of extravagant dates, fancy dresses, and luxurious houses, all to have the chandelier fall back down on them in the form of "we're just not compatible!" although they acted sad, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were really so heartbroken over. the life of their dreams was hanging just within their grasp, all for it to be ripped away and dangled over the head of another girl. anyone would be sad about that.

did it ever get boring?...sometimes. but there lived no fun without the dullness. for every batch of girls that cycled in and out of his life, there were always a few sticklers. sticklers, who didn't leave quietly, but put up a fight, refused to leave, spat insults at him, one even keyed his expensive sports car. these ones were usually paid a hefty sum to see their way out of his life, and what was funny, is that every single girl who was offered the money took it and left. they didn't even give it a second thought.

the idea of settling down sounded nice for about a year, until he quickly realized that it was easier said than done for a man of his rank. it would be far too easy to lock in with a woman that married him for his house, his cars, his fortune, than for him. he didn't need to be bled dry by some selfish woman who resorted to marrying rich after her failed acting career. so alone he stayed, or rather, lonely. he was rarely alone with himself. but he always had this aching feeling of loneliness in his chest.

that was, until one little choice altered his entire life.

"this is who we've narrowed down for the secretary position, sir. it was difficult, as there were a lot of highly qualified applicants, but these are my choices. i figured you could get the final say, if you don't mind." sehyun concluded, leaving the stack of folders in front of jungkook on his desk. sighing deeply, he looked at he pile, then back to the man before him. "are you sure you want me to choose?"

sejun nodded. "yes, sir. unless, of course, you don't want to." he clarified. jungkook shook his head. "no, it's fine. i've got it." he said, reaching for the pile. shutting his eyes, and shuffling the folders in his hands, he grabbed a random one from the middle and held it up. "this one." he declared, handing it back to sejun.

taking it from the male, he opened the file to read the contents. "who's our lucky winner, sejun?" he joked, leaning back in his chair lazily. "looks like it's [first name/last name]. sound alright to you?" he asked, looking to his boss for approval. he nodded. "sounds great to me. she sounds pretty." he remarked, smiling at his own words. with a courtesy laugh and farewell, sejun left, shutting the door behind him. after he was gone, jungkook looked at the pile of papers left behind, and tossed them in the garbage without thinking twice.

it's almost as if he knew he would never need them again.

tapping your foot anxiously, you glanced around the clean waiting room, observing the decorations, the paintings, and even taking note of the sweet smell of the room, the smell of a fresh flower garden in the midst of spring. the only sound that filled the room was the typing of the receptionist on her computer, along with the occasional conversation from the office behind her. the seconds passed like minutes, the minutes like hours, as you waited for in the chair the receptionist sent you to. why were you in a chair? who knows, you told her you had been hired, but she still sent you to wait amongst the clients. you certainly fit in with them, wearing your nicest clothes and cleanest shoes.

finally, you heard the call of your name from behind the desk, and looked up to see a man rushing towards you. "[name], i'm so sorry to keep you waiting. how long have you been here?" he asked apologetically. you shook your head. "oh please, don't worry about it. i haven't been here for long." you reassured him, smiling in an attempt to ease his worries. "well, welcome to jeon industries. on behalf of everyone, we're all very happy you're here." he beamed, leading you down a carpeted hallway to a small, messy office. "here, have a seat--i guess you've been doing a lot of that today," he chuckled, "and i'll get you setup with your badge and login information."

you nodded, accepting his invitation to sit down in the cushy chair in front of his desk. the office was disorganized, but not in a way that made you want to leave. it looked more like the office of someone who was always hard at work, rather than someone who just didn't bother to clean. 'so you're fresh out of college, right? how's the real world been treating you?" he asked, typing away on his computer before searching around for something on his cluttered desk. "so far, so good. i'm here, aren't i?" you replied, half-smiling. he nodded slowly. "right you are...alright, here's a temporary badge. we'll get you an official one once we can get the photographer in for your picture. and this," he said, handing you a yellow sticky note with some writing scribbled on it, "is your login information for your computer. now i'll bring you to your desk, and get you setup with your trainer, and you'll be good to go!" he said cheerily, standing up from the chair and heading for the door.

a long series of hallways led to your desk, which was situated right outside of a sleek wooden door, on which a gold plate that was engraved with the name "jeon jungkook". the door had glass on either side, that peeked into the office, where you caught a glimpse of the supposed mr. jeon, on a phone call at his desk. unfortunately, he looked up from his desk at the exact moment you were peering into the office, resulting in one second of awkward eye contact before you turned your head away and your eyes met the ones of a new girl.

"hi!" she grinned, "i'm aera. i work in accounting, right down the hall. you're [name], right?" she asked, sticking her hand out for you to shake. taking it, you introduced yourself. "yes, hello, it's nice to meet you, aera!" you said confidently, her kind manner easing your burning nerves. "i'll let you two get started here. aera, thank you for your time, and [name], if you need anything, you can come to either of us, and we'll help you out. alright?" he asked. at your nod, he gave one last smile before disappearing down the hallway.

aera clasped her hands. "well, isn't this exciting! i love when we get new people here. let's start your training, shall we?"

jungkook saw you. you tried to look away, you tried to act like you weren't staring him down, but he always saw the stares. it's not like he had any issue with it, of course. he loved when people looked at him, especially pretty girls such as yourself. and to think that you were just going to be sitting outside, doing nothing else but running around for his sake! he had been looking for a new distraction from his work, his life, his everything. and it looks like he just found it.

three months had passed, three months of your little desk, new friendships, and great work. the job was going great for you; of course, it was work, so it did have its downsides, but the good far outweighed the bad. your coworkers welcomed you in with open arms, despite your young age and inexperience, they respected you and valued your opinions, which alleviated about 80% of your worries.

as for the job itself, it was great. all you really did was secretary work, like scheduling meetings, booking dinner reservations, and calling other businessmen, all for the ceo.

jeon jungkook.

what an interesting man.

right off the bat, jungkook was very...friendly...to you. the first day you were there, without aera by your side to help you, he moseyed on out of his office and right to your desk, taking the opportunity to "personally introduce" himself to you, and by that, he meant saying his name and staring at you like a piece of meat as he carried on a meaningless conversation.

from then on, he was always just around. wherever you were, he always seemed to find himself. for a while, you thought he was just being welcoming. but when it didn't let up after the first month, you started to think that there were some sort of ulterior motives at play. no ceo has any reason to be getting his secretary gifts every week, nor any reason to grab the small of her waist every time he passes behind her. the questions in your head came to an end when aera revealed the young man's real self, in a serious conversation over some hot breakroom coffee.

"he's a major...manwhore!" she revealed, going on to recount all the numbers of women she had heard him being with in her few years there. "he's been with virtually every woman here." you looked at her in disbelief, and you didn't need to ask the question for her to give you an answer. she nodded slowly, staring into her mug. "i'm not proud of it..i was young, and i liked the attention. i feel so stupid now." she admitted.

it all made sense to you now, the touching, the presents, the prolonged conversations about the lobby decorations. it all clicked. he only saw you as another trophy to win and put into his glass case with all the other girls he had tainted. you wanted to be shocked, but with someone of his authority and resources, it'd be a lie to say you expected differently. it was a shame, sure, but at least you knew now.

jungkook, on the other hand, had no clue what your problem was. it didn't usually take him this long to seduce a girl. what more did he have to do? he did everything he knew of--gifts, of pretty flowers and expensive candies, having long and invested conversations together, he even resorted to the subtle-touching method. how long was this going to take?! did you have a boyfriend, or were you saving it for marriage, or were you just a prude?

as frustrating as this loss was, especially for someone who always won, there was something strange about it that he...liked? he didn't know either. but it was oddly addicting, the challenge of it. the unfamiliarity of it. of not being given into at the first smile. the need to actually try, even if it was for something so shallow,

he just liked trying.

the night had come, and left a wash of black over everything that was once bright and clear. you could see the night sky from your window, and the stars glittered like moonlight on the ocean. throwing your things into your bag sloppily, in a hurry to get out out of the office and into the cool nighttime air. you were scheduled to have left an hour ago, but a cold had set you back a few days last week, and you needed to catch up on the work that was left waiting for you.

slinging your purse over your shoulder and pushing in your chair, you walked to jungkook's door to bid him farewell for the evening. as grossed out as you were by him, it would be rude to not say goodbye to your boss, at least, you thought it was. poking your head in the door, you barely got the word 'goodbye' out before noticing something strange.

jungkook wasn't hunched over his desk, or talking on his phone, or even on his computer. instead of bidding you a cheeky goodbye, he was standing at his large window, which overlooked the city and its bright lights. furrowing you brows, you debated going further inside to ask what was wrong, but the young man had already picked up on your presence, so you couldn't back out now.

"[name]," he said, not in his normal flirtatious tone, "heading out?" he glanced at the time on his watch. "i guess so. it's pretty late." you took a few steps into his office, staying close to the door. "yeah, i was. but are you alright? i saw you just...standing there." you asked quietly, nervous that your simple question had overstepped some type of boundary.

he nodded quickly. "yeah, yeah. i'm alright, thanks...just thinking, i guess." he said, turning his body to face you entirely. you cocked your head to the side. "about what? anything in particular?" you asked, mentally slapping yourself. this is probably exactly what he wants to happen, you thought, you were being too kind to him. but you couldn't exactly leave now, you were too far in.

he sighed. "honestly? yeah. i was just thinking...what if i'm not fit for this? i mean, today, i noticed that our revenue numbers have gone down, and not by just a little bit. i mean, i hear all the time that it's normal for companies to fluctuate in their numbers, but nobody ever talks about it. and it scares me. it makes me think that i'm doing something wrong." he confessed, looking down at his shiny leather shoes.

"i see." was all you could say. what else was there? were you supposed to give him business advice? "and i have my father breathing down my neck, always reminding me that i need to have this big, important life, that i need to get married, and run a corporation perfectly, and learn french, and piano, and racquetball, and all this other bullshit, and i can barely keep my head above water!" he complained, having shifted from the window to his desk chair. he chuckled slightly, after a moment. "i'm sorry, [name], god, i get asked one question, and i go off on a tangent. you don't deserve that."

you smiled softly. "don't worry, mr. jeon. i'm the one who asked. as for everything else you said...nobody said you need to do it all at once. you're young, sir. you have a lot of life ahead of you. you have plenty of time to do all of those things, and even more things, that you can choose. you're not running out of time. and i'm sorry you feel like you are." you consoled, scolding yourself for the cliché advice you just gave.

instead of scoffing, he nodded his head slowly. "i guess you're right. i mean, i'm only 28. i won't be going anywhere anytime soon." he mused. you smiled, this time more broadly. "you've given me a lot to think about, [name]. thank you. seriously." he said, his signature grin returning to his face. with a quiet goodbye, you scurried out of the office, eager to get out into the fresh air, and away from the incidental therapy session you just had with your boss.

the next day, you walked in, and as you approached your desk, you were greeted by the biggest arrangement of flowers you had ever seen in a vase. you didn't even need to read the card to know where they came from.

that day at lunch, a pair of dainty knuckles went up to meet the sleek wood of the door. a flat voice from behind it admitted the person to the room, which they entered and shut the door behind them.

"mr. jeon."

glancing up from the paper in his hands, he met aera's sharp eyes. "aera. what can i do for you?" he asked, turning his attention back down to his work. she moved forward, to sit in one of the sleek leather chairs in front of his desk. "well, you can tell me what you and that little assistant of your have going on, for starters."

looking up, this time with much more intensity than before, he stared into her brown eyes. "what are you talking about?" he demanded. she laughed, as if it were the stupidest question she had ever heard. "don't play dumb. you know exactly what i'm talking about. you and that little puritan that sits outside of your office all day?" she laughed again, "always sending her flowers and that other bullshit. i mean, you're not a stupid man. what could you possibly see in her? she's obviously a prude, obviously inexperienced, and so boring! what a sad excuse for a woman! why keep chasing after that..." she paused, standing up and circling around the desk to where jungkook was sat, seating herself on the arm of the chair, "when you could have...something so much better, and all you have to do is say the word?" she whispered, leaning in close to his ear.

clenching his jaw, jungkook turned his head away from aera. "get out." he seethed, refusing to say anymore than that. she scoffed, standing up and placing her hand on her hip. "i--you cannot be serious. don't be shy, sir, i know you want this. all you have to do is tell me yes."

"okay, well, i'm telling you to get out, before i call the front desk and have you escorted out, by security." he boomed, standing up from his chair, sending it flying into the shelf behind him, "and don't bother coming back. not today, not tomorrow, not next week. just pack your shit and leave."

mouth agape, and standing there awkwardly until jungkook motioned for her to get out, aera stormed out, heels thumping on the floor. "unbelievable. un-fucking-believable!" she shouted, slamming the door behind her as she left. she stormed past your desk and as she walked by, spat "he's yours, you little bitch."

confused, you watched her back disappear down the corridor and into her office, where she noisily started slamming things around. jungkook came out of his office, rushing to your desk as he heard her shout at you. her obnoxious throwing and swearing could be heard as she grabbed all her belongings and left out of the back entrance.

looking at jungkook, with whom you were still not totally comfortable with, he patted your shoulder softly as he talked to you. "are you alright? i don't know what her problem is. did she do anything to you?' he asked. after assuring him you were okay, he went back into his office. you wondered all afternoon what she meant by "he's yours".

ever since the night you had caught him all stressed out, he seemed to be different. like he held a higher respect for you now. instead of passing by you by grabbing your waist, he politely excused himself. instead of extending conversations about nothing, he asked you genuine questions, and replied with interested answers. as for the gifts...they didn't really stop. but his shift in behavior was nice, you appreciated the new high regard he held you in.

as for jungkook, he had stopped looking at you like a piece of ass. he didn't see you like that anymore. see, it wasn't the first time he had been asked if he was alright by a woman. it had happened plenty of times. it also wasn't the first time he had answered with that exact thing: the fear of not living up to what he needed to be, that ate away at him every single day. but it was the first time he had gotten an actual response. not a one-word answer, not an 'oh', not a subject change. an actual response, with substance and meaning. it was weird, such a small action was the most heard and seen he had ever felt in his whole life. furthermore, it inspired hope, something that he had long given up on. and it was fucking euphoric.

needless to say, he was smitten. maybe it was destiny, or maybe his standards were just low. either way, he had never felt this way for anyone before, and couldn't imagine feeling it for anyone else. so naturally, he didn't take too kindly to someone coming in and disrespecting you like that, much less one of your closest friends! through his anger, he couldn't help but wonder, why? was she jealous, because she knew that an ugly beast hid behind her mask, and there was no changing it? or was she just that shallow?

whatever her reasons, jungkook didn't really care. all he knew is that she was a problem, one that took priority over any other issue he had. she needed to be gone, not just from the company, but from society. your heart was too golden, too shiny and beautiful to float around, unprotected from the tarnish of others.

oh, you. what would happen with you? it was already decided, at least, in his mind, that you were his and he was yours. it was that simple. you just didn't know yet. that wasn't what the issue was here. you would no doubt be upset over the tragic loss of your best friend, but who would hold you as you cried? who would hug you as you struggled to fall asleep? who would be there for you in your hour of need? jungkook would, obviously. the roles in your life were open, the role of boyfriend, best friend, provider. and he had enough love to fill all of those spots to the max, plus more left over to shower you in, to drown you in. what better person could there be?

the decision was made, he knew what had to happen, and he knew he would get away with it. normally, he didn't like to risk dirtying his hands with anything even remotely like this, but for you, he'd crawl his way through the mud. besides, what harm was there in getting your hands dirty, as long as you washed the muck away?

the news had hit you like a freight train. aera, one of your very best friends, struck while walking on the street late at night, by a drunk driver. how awful! and just that day, she had gotten into a conflict at work...the poor girl. she was so young, too. she had so much going for her, so much to wait for in life.

putting on your nicest black outfit, combing your hair out, and grabbing your plain black umbrella, you parked your car on the road across from the cemetery. your umbrella came in handy, as it was a grey day, rain drizzling from the sky, almost like God was crying right along with you. faces, familiar and not, all flooded to the open grave.

looking around, you recognized a few coworkers, and most notable, jungkook. he had on a black suit, one that looked nicer than his everyday ones, and was standing around with a few people. he didn't look like he was sad, but more solemn. like he was only there because it was the right thing to do.

you shied away from the crowd, preferring to stick to yourself and process the loss on your own. you visited the casket, which had the lid shut up tight, and you just stood there for a minute. memories of aera flooded your mind, from the first cheerful greeting she gave you to the final words she hurled at you as she stormed away. who knew that would be the last time you ever saw each other?

as you mourned, you felt a hand snake around your waist, rubbing your side gently. "hey, [name]. how are you holding up?" jungkook asked quietly, leaning into your ear as he did so. you shook your head. "i'm fine, it's just..so shocking. i mean, we just saw her." you said, not totally believing the words that left your own mouth.

he nodded. "mmh, i get that. it's horrifying, isn't it? absolutely..horrifying." he said, looking down at the polished brown casket and the spread of flowers that sat on top of it. "hey, you've been standing in the rain for a while. aren't you cold? here, take this." he offered, taking the soft suit jacket off and hanging it over your shoulders. "how about we go sit down? the service is going to start soon." he said, carefully leading you to two chairs underneath the tent, away from the cold drops of rain that were hitting your skin.

you thanked him quietly, and before you could do anymore, the service started. the array of speeches and memories shared in aera's honor brought tears to your eyes, and you couldn't help the few that rolled down your cheeks. the whole time, jungkook kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders, at some points even pulling you closer to him and almost cradling you in his arms. admittedly, it was nice to have someone there for you as you hurt, even if it was him.

the service ended, seemingly as quickly as it started. the crowd dispersed, some going up to say their final goodbye to aera. you and your fragile heart couldn't bear to do it, not again, and after leaving jungkook's suit jacket on your chair, you slowly started to make your way back to the car, wiping your tears on your hands as you did so.

"[name]!" you heard a familiar voice call. turning around, jungkook, suit jacket in hand, walked swiftly towards you, arm outstretched. "come on. i'll take you home." he said, reaching to grab your shoulder. you shook your head. "thank you, but my car's parked here. and thanks for the jacket. i'll see you at work." you replied, trying to turn and leave.

"i don't think you should be driving. you know, with...everything. your mind is foggy. it's dangerous to drive like that. come on, i promise i don't mind." he pleaded, a desperate look crossing his features. hesitantly, you obliged with his request, and he wrapped his arm around you once again as you walked to his fancy car. some heads turned, and there were some whispers, and your face burned because of it, but jungkook didn't seem to notice.

his car was nice, and undoubtedly expensive. with only two seats, it looked like something a movie star would zoom up to a party with. getting in, and buckling your seatbelt, you heard the door locks click, and as the car started up, you felt your grief fire up again, but this time, it manifested in your stomach, specifically, a pit feeling, similar to nerves.

"don't you need my address?" you asked him as he took off down the road. "i have your address already." he said, "you know, from employee records." he clarified, smiling at you innocently. there wasn't much conversation. only the sounds of the asphalt beneath you and the feelings of devastation at aera's death heightening in your stomach, now giving you sweaty palms and a racing heart. all you needed was to get home, to your shower, your pajamas, and your bed.

it was only after jungkook drove past your road that you realized the feeling in your stomach might be a bit more than pure grief. "sorry, but you drove past my road." you informed him. he shook his head. "no, [name]. we're not going there. i have something i need to tell you, and i really need you to stay calm, because it'll make it a whole lot easier for you. got that?" he asked, putting his hand on your thigh and making mindless patterns with his thumb.

"what are you talking about? i'd really just like to go back home, jungkook, my house. please." you beseeched. he shook his head again. "listen to me, baby, just listen, yeah? you are going home--well, not your home, but we're going to our home. sound good? i don't want you to worry. i know this is weird, but i promise, you'll love it. okay? stay calm, for me." he explained, slowly, as if you were a child. tears welled up in your eyes all over again. "but why? i don't want to!" you cried.

"why? why do you think, darling, because i'm bored?" he chuckled at his own sick joke, "because, i love you. and i'm the only one you have, now that aera's gone. i know you're sad about that, but trust me, it was for the best. if you heard what she said, you would hit the floor, baby." he said, he laughed at it, as if it were some type of hilarious joke.

it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was implying. disgusted, you froze in your seat, breath catching in your throat. "you...don't tell me...you did that..to her?" you choked out, barely able to annunciate the words. he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "what can i say? she wasn't good for you, darling, that's what you need to understand. she was such a hateful person. she deserved it." he assured you, voice calm and even.

vision blurring, whether it was from the tears or dizziness, you weren't sure, but you clawed at the handle of his car. "let me out. right now. just let me go, and i won't tell anyone. please." you begged, desperately looking around for anything to help you. suddenly, you felt the car stop abruptly in the middle of the road. jungkook leaned over, hand unmoving from your thigh, and spoke directly into your ear. "try to get out of this car again, and so help me god, i will not hesitate to do to the both of us what i did to aera. you wouldn't want that, would you, sweetheart?" he asked, voice sweet and innocent, as he leaned back, and even had the audacity to give you a kiss on the cheek and smile at you as he did so.

slowly, you sat back in your seat, hands folded in your lap. as much as you wanted to, you had no doubt that jungkook would run the both of you off the road if you tried anything else stupid. your ideas for escape started diminishing as more and more trees and fields filled your vision, and the buildings of the city faded away.

"listen to me. i got us a beautiful house in the country. it's huge, and we have anything and everything you could ever want. i'll keep on going to work, and all you have to do is stay home, and wait for me. okay? be there for me when i get home. spend time with me. be my wife. and whatever happens, happens." he told you sternly. "you know, [name], i think you were right. we have so much life left to live, both of us. we have decades left. and what better way to spend it,

than just the two of us, together?"