#ITS 2AM BUT I- I CANNOT JUST GO TO SLEEP AFTER THAT !!!!!!

[vanyafresita]

NOOOOO WHAT THE FUUCKKK (lays on the floor, cries, scratches wall) anyways thank fuck there is more episodes, if i had been listening to these as they released i would have ended it all

[runningincircl3s]

its 2am and i think i’m going insane i literally just made this blog because i can’t sleep i cannot get these thoughts out of my head SEND HELP

18+ MDNI!!! i’m going to hell!!!

best friend noah who comes on vacation with you and your family, and the two of you share a room because well you’re best friends. best friend noah who joins you in the shower when you need to wash off after the beach, who helps you to clean all the sand from your body and of course you return the favour. his hands rub the soap all over you, making sure to take extra care of your tits, you swat his hand away but he’s grazing his thumb over your nipples as he cleans you, pinching and tugging at then to see which sounds he can make you come out with. best friend noah who gets on his knees to help you shave your bikini line, lifting your leg over his shoulder so he can get a better view. best friend noah who gets carried away and peppers kisses between your thighs, spreading your lips with his thumbs as his tongue finds your clit as he fucks you with his fingers. best friend noah who makes sure you keep your eyes on him as he’s eating you out, or else he stops. best friend noah who will come to dinner with you and your family 10 minutes after giving you the most intense leg shaking brain melting orgasms. best friend noah who’s cum is dripping out of you as you sit eating dinner with your family. best friend noah who helps you chose which outfits to wear each day, knowing he’ll be taking them off when you get back to your room for the night. best friend noah who adjusts your bikini for you if your tits start to spill out or your pussys slightly on show when you fall asleep on the beach because he can’t have other people seeing what’s his. best friend noah who cums in the same mouth you kiss your parents good night on the cheek with. best friend noah who sticks his long fingers in your mouth to shut you up when you can’t stop moaning his name, as your parents are in the room next to you. best friend noah who watches some guy flirt with you at the bar, knowing that in 20 minutes he’ll have you bent over the bed with his cock buried to the hilt inside you as you try not to scream his name. best friend noah who swears it’s all just platonic as he presses delicate kisses to your clit, turns your brain to mush through overstimulation and paints your insides white with his cum. best friend noah who your parents love as he’s such a good best friend to you <33

okay i’ll regret this in the morning but i feel better now i’m going to sleep :)

[earthtooz]

𝟐:𝟎𝟑 𝐀𝐌

fluff, hints at a fight that happened so minimal hurt/comfort, sooo much swearing, ooc rin bc he's so hard to write wtf he has a personality of an apple but i love him &lt;3

it’s 2 am.

it’s 2 am and someone is knocking on your door like a madman.

you were simply trying to catch some shut eye, exhausted from a day of grieving and almost breaking down into tears on several occasions. the accumulation of a shitty day, a stressful deadline, and the massive fight you had with your boyfriend, itoshi rin, two days ago, really committed to keeping your day melancholic at best. sleep was everything you needed right now, both for its regenerative and escapist purposes.

yet again, you really cannot catch a break from the spite of the universe because it is out of rage that you find yourself walking towards your front door; an anger that dissipates when you see who it is on the other side.

1/3 of the reason why your day sucked. your painfully beautiful boyfriend.

the argument you had with rin was left open-ended on whether the relationship should continue or not. to you, it seemed as though both parties were at different opinions, with you wanting to maintain what you had. after two days of not responding to your texts, you suppose that that had been a short way of answering the ambiguity.

willingly, although reluctantly, you open the door, preparing to end something that you were not ready to let go.

he’s sweaty and he’s panting. did he run up the stairs or something, why is he so puffed? how is he so pretty despite that?

“hey,” you begin, feeling small in his presence. rin bores through you with his teal eyes, not saying anything. you cringe at the silence.

“i appreciate the effort but y’know, if you wanted to make our breakup official couldn’t you have done it at a reasonable hour, rin?”

his eyes narrow at that statement, betraying his usually stoic expression with furrowed brows and an agape mouth. confused. he’s confused, but you don’t see any of it because you find the floor more interesting than your boyfriend (?).

with a deep inhale, you just decide to go for it. if he’s not going to declare it, then you will. “look, rin, maybe you’re right, if this relationship is holding you back then maybe it is best we-“

“-the olive theory.”

“excuse me?”

the first words this man utters to you after two days… is the olive theory?

the dark-haired continues. “the olive theory, we’re- we’re supposed to be compatible.”

you are way over your head right now. did you even wake up? is this a dream? why is your, usually all-straight-talk, boyfriend talking to you about the olive theory at 2am, stammering whilst doing so? what kind of hallucination is this?

“rin, what?”

“i like olives, you hate them, we’re meant to work, and i don’t think i can continue on like this.”

you blink once, twice, three times before pointing at him. “you’re telling me that we’re compatible, yet in the same sentence, telling me that we should break up?”

"i didn’t want to break up?”

“but you just said you can’t continue on like this, what else do you mean?” your voice is at a hushed whisper at best, and although you wanted to raise it louder, you fear that your neighbours would not be happy.

“i meant that i can’t continue on without you!”

silence.

“i’ve become so co-dependent on you that i fucking hate it. i can’t fucking function without you, even that fuckhead isagi knows that i’m off and it’s all because of you. it’s only been two fucking days and i’m not landing 60% of my goals, i’m not receiving 20% of my passes correctly, and i keep tripping over myself, you’re ruining me, y/n.”

the flurry of emotions within you triples, and you’re so flabbergasted that no words can escape your mouth. truthfully, you can't think straight, but if you could, the words would fizzle out in your throat before they even saw the light of day.

“if i have to suffer any more of this stupid silence between us then i might kill a bitch. that bitch being the antennae freak.”

even more silence, and rin is practically begging you with his gaze to say something. funnily enough, the next thing you murmur is out of reflex: “don’t say that about shidou.”

he groans. “if i didn’t love you, i would choke you right now.” wow, itoshi rin has a way with words.

the threat causes you to crack a smile. “well, good thing you love me,” you mutter whilst grabbing him by the wrists to pull him inside your apartment. “and it’s a good thing i love you too.”

“well no shit, we’ve been in a relationship for-“

“-shut up and kiss me, you smooth talker.”

the soccer player smirks in amusement before leaning forward, closing the physical and metaphorical space between you, soothing the heartache with gentle touches and a fervent need to love one another.

༊* BONUS:

“why are you here at 2 am? i thought you, of all people, would be fast asleep.”

“tried to, can’t sleep without you- you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?”

you smile fondly as he hooks an arm around you waist, collapsing into you as a way of saying that he doesn’t mean his rough words. “so i’m just another bedwarmer?” you ask teasingly.

he grumbles a ‘tch’, digging his nose into your nape. “you’re an idiot.”

“thank you, love. speaking of bedwarming, can we go to sleep?” perfectly paired with a yawn, rin looks at you with slight guilt in his eyes before dragging you down the memorised path to your bedroom.

once there, he wastes little time in dragging you into the sanctuary of your bed, and you let out a sigh of content when rin turns off the lights and pulls the covers up. instinctively, your hands retreat to his hair, carding through them.

he’s holding you close, hands resting protectively around your waist.

“we have a lot to talk about in the morning, but did you not get any of my texts?”

“you texted?”

“…yeah?”

“oh yeah, i remember now that i blocked you after our fight.”

you mercilessly smother him with your pillow.

[pervspace]

This is my last Leon req i swear!! Perverted Leon who cannot get enough of m!readers thighss!! He can't help but dream of squishing them and fuckin in between them. It's not as good as the real deal tho ♡

warnings: nsfw, m.reader, pervert!leon, he’s like a desperate puppy :((, somnophila, kinda cliffhanger ending cause i lowkey wanna make a pt2 cause i love this sm aaaaa

word count: 797

note: aaaa i loved writing this please keep sending requests!!!

—

he felt ashamed of himself, he really was just a pervert. you and leon have been friends for years, you two shared a home, shared a bed, shared practically everything. you two were just friends though, that’s what was driving him almost mad. how was he supposed to act normal when his cock was threatening to jump out of his jeans whenever he saw your thighs, the way they would expand whenever you sat down, how they jiggled when you walked, how they would spill over the fabric of your thigh highs. he even got to take a picture of you where your thighs were clear and visible, he’s found himself doing perverted stuff when thinking to your thighs.

constantly fucking into any object that reminded him of your thighs, he felt so ashamed fucking into one of your pillows like a dog in heat. humping the soft fabric until his cock started to hurt, he was overstimulating himself before he even came. he couldn’t help it, it was your fault! how could you walk around in such slutty shorts and not expect him to get hard? you had to be doing it on purpose is what he tried to tell himself, it had to be you teasing him on purpose. he was driving himself insane, his cock was begging for him to stop the relentless abuse but he just couldn’t. he came onto every polaroid of you, the bottom of his shirt stuffed into his mouth to prevent the whimpers and moans that spilled from his pretty pink lips. he decided he was going to take a step up tonight, he was going to try something new.

“leon…get it together, this is so fucked.” he was absolutely right, he shouldn’t be in your room at 2am watching you sleep, he shouldn’t be gently taking the covers off your sleeping frame to see your body. his cock jumped at the sight of your sleeping body, the way you looked so peaceful and beautiful like this. “fuck…can’t help it m’sorry…it hurts if i don’t touch it…” he pulled your thighs together and just stared like a deer in headlights, tugging his sweatpants down he palmed his cock through his boxers. he had already soaked through the fabric with his pre cum, it was a pathetic sight to see…him desperately pumping into his hands while staring at your thighs, he even stole a pair of your boxers to shove in his mouth to keep him quiet.

he was suffocated in your scent, you lingered in every one of his senses. he brushed his palm against his angry red tip and let out a choked out moan, he really should stop. you could wake up at any minute and catch him being a filthy perv! he couldn’t stop his hips from moving up to meet his hand, his eyes were wet and glossy with tears. everything felt so good when it was influenced by you, he had never felt this good touching himself when he was just watching porn. it was you, all he wanted was you, but there’s no way you would have him. not after the sinful acts he’s committing in your room at the moment, you would definitely move out and never speak to him.

“m’sorry…’m such a bad boy…please fo-forgive me.”he was begging for you, he wasn’t quite sure what he was begging for but he needed it. his balance was unsteady as he fucked his hand faster, his palm twtisting all around his tip. he felt the knot in his stomach tighten uncomfortably, he wanted to cum on you, but he knows he couldn’t.

cum on his thighs, you can clean it up later.

n-no that’s not-

you deserve it, you’ve worked hard and you’ve held back from bending him over and fucking him raw.

don’t wanna it-its bad if i-

you’ll never get this opportunity again, just cum.

he tried to hold back, he really did. he just couldn’t behave himself around you, he was just a gross pervert. “m’sorrysorrysorry…pleaaasseee forgive me baby i-i’m gonna cu-cum…!” he let out a final drawn out whine before cumming all over your thighs, he pumped himself through his orgasm. his body was ruined with aftershocks of his sinful actions, his cum was spread so beautifully across your thighs. he was a bad boy, the absolute worst boy ever. how could he do something like that? he quickly left the room out of pure embarrassment. he came on his best friend's thighs while he was sleeping, he laid in his own bed thinking over and over about what he just did.

he was woken up by the bright sun peaking through his blinds and a warm wet breath against his ear, “what a pervert you are, kennedy.”

[amourjins]

i'm having pov!aeri thoughts rn so i'm sharing them

pov!aeri who likes to give little gifts to y/n. flowers, stuffed animals, lego structure of something y/n likes, etc. likes sending them hoping she can make y/n's day better and make her smile!!!

loser!pov!aeri who can't sleep one night so she's ends up being bored, all pouty bc she'a missing her gf, and then comes up with the most WONDERFUL idea to facetime y/n at like 2 in the morning. y/n answering the call, asking aeri if something was wrong and then the loser says "i just miss you" and then all of a sudden y/n is wide awake and all her attention is on her gf now. then she takes a good look at aeri's appearance.

aeri's wearing pajamas with cute cartoons on them, a headband like in that one recent live ykyk, a stuffed animal in her arms (you cannot tell me this loser doesn't sleep with a stuffed animal), or maybe she's building a new lego set she had recently bought.

loser!pov!aeri who -during her's and y/n's secret dating era- gets jealous whenever she sees someone getting a little too close tp y/n for her liking, and going all quiet and sad because she can't go do anything since they're not out to anyone yet. but!!!! she ends up becoming really clingy towards y/n when their alone, refusing to tell her why she's being so clingy but ends up giving in and rambling about hwo she got jealous and that's why she's being clingy.

y/n teasing her for it, making aeri look at her with big puppy eyes with a pout :(((

but y/n ends up just pulling aeri into her arms, RUNS HER FINGERS TO HER HAIR BC AERI LOVES WHEN Y/N DOES IT, and reassuring her that there's no one she'll ever love the way she love's her :((( my turn when

that's all for tonight!!! i'll comeback with more soon ;)

OKAY YES. pov!aeri nd her love language being gift giving + acts of service. like its just “i got you this,” “i built you this,,” left and right to yn!!! yn’s room is filled with aeri’s gifts n her lego sets that she built for her Hjsjsjsslaosjxnxsosis

wait WAIT WAIT HEAR ME OUT bc yn tetxing aeri that shes getting her nails done n aeri texting back like

(a) — how much?

(yn) - $75! why?

(a) — [apple pay of $150] ,, show me what it looks like after, pretty girl 💕

THIS SONF. (sorry i love piwon) + late night calls w/ loser!pov!aeri n pov!yn,, nd YES the stuffed animals.. literally has a whole setup of them on her bed + her gaming desk.. maybe yn at aeri’s house n she looks over at aeri’s bed, seeing sm plushies n stuffed animals. yn sees one that catches her eye.. (its a black cat that yn thinks resembles aeri methinks!)

“can i take one?” yn would say out of nowhere!!!

“..huh?”

“i want one,”

“okay,”

aeri’s staring at yn confused, yn walking over n taking the black cat that caught her eye!!! (she sleeps w it every night.. maybe cs it has aeri’s signature perfume on it..)

BACK TO THE LATE NIGHT CALL!!!! the pajamas lmfao 😭 on call, aeri’s searching for something and then she magically pulls out a fucking lego set?? like girl its 2am i dont think you need to be building legos rn..

ororor maybe she decides to play games n shares her monitor screen so yn can watch!!! :3 (even though shes eepy n doesnt understand half the things shes doing)

YES aeri getting possessive n jealous whenever someone gets too close up to yn.. or maybe yn interacting with one of her friends!

aeri glaring DAGGERS at whoever the someone (..possibly jake) is, wanting to kill tjem!!!

when theyre in private, aeri having her hands all over yn after the whole tjikf?? saying shit like “tell them to get off of you,” while still being pouty !!!

aeri digging her head into yn’s shoulder nd having her arms around yn’s waist.. oops going insane!

[cyber-crustacean]

HIIII SASSSS ITS 2AM I CANT SLEEP you get the au rambles

i have been. thinking. about the fact that admin sonny was dead before kinito dragged him in. and because of how he died I have been imagining how that entire scene would've played out. how long had sonny been dead? what did nito see? what was his reaction? did they start out as friends in there or was it straight to hating each other? what was sonny's relationship with kinito like before he died?

I wish I could beam you images from my brain because the scene I have in my head... omg I cannot words it

ALSO!! throws my bird at you!! owl!!!

they trust kinito so blindly and completelu,, they're sorta like how they were before they found out about all the bad shit. in like peak sonny hater era. they'd believe anything he says, even a blatant lie, and if they believed anything dangerous was going on they'd want to tell him right away.

owl is very easily manipulated and they are also so clingy. they are attached to kinito now. never letting go if they can help it. and they trust him!! to keep them safe!! they trust that they'll always feel comfortable and loved around him.

my entire screen just changed color at me for a second I got a notification yelling at me to go the fuck to sleep ok I guess that's the end of my ramble goodnight byeeee friend talk to you in the morning <3

Sonny was absolutely terrified.

When the man awoke inside that computer everything hurt. Everything. He could barely see and his throat was raw with pain, could barely even talk at first.

Before the hate, there was fear.

The reason Sonny had did what he had done was out of pure, undiluted guilt for all that he had done. He was far from the first victim, and he was definitely not the last. He never liked Kinito while in there. He always saw that computer as a specially crafted digital nightmare just for him, a purgatory that properly punished him for what he allowed to occur.

Kinito didn't understand why at first. He didn't understand why Sonny would have done what he did in the first place. The memories of that scene were terrifying, etched into his being, his code.

It's a memory that still stretches out of his influence, even when he doesn't intend it. Everything is his code, so that awful night had lingered in it.

Why do you think Sam had that rope around his neck, afterall?

It was only a year or so into the nightmare before Sonny realized he could do something about it. After seeing many victims, trying so hard to reach out to any of them to set him free, to delete him, the servers, anything

None of that worked of course, but it gave him at least the littlest bit of hope. For a while.

[oopsallmabari]

hewwo it's 2am and i've gotten to the part of the rewrite where i make arya suffer >:3

On the third night, Arya feels as though she is boiling. She registers the feeling of a cool cloth pressed to her forehead, ridding the sweat from her face. Voices echo from the ceiling, shouting, barking, unintelligible.

With a jolt, she returns to her Harrowing, heart thrumming in her chest as her eyes close. Mist envelops her, filling her nostrils—the welcome of the Fade. She blinks her eyes open. A hooded figure stands before her, face shrouded in shadow.

It speaks in a warm, low voice, one she has not heard in years. My dear. You look troubled.

A deep-buried part of Arya wants to collapse on the ground, to hold herself so tight that her fingernails will dig into her skin. But this, she reminds herself, is her Harrowing. The Circle is putting her to a test.

A test your friends failed, the figure murmurs. A test, my child, that you cannot hope to succeed, after all.

Arya clenches her fists. “You speak with my mother’s voice. You are not her.”

Arya knows this perfectly well. The letter announcing Lady Miriam Trevelyan’s passing came to her years ago, only a single line of text, signed by Malik without condolences nor affectation.

I am the parts of her that matter to you, child. Your memories of her are fraught. The hooded figure reaches with a large, broken-looking hand outstretched. I am sorry for the pain. It must all be so difficult to bear. But that is alright. These memories are you.

“They are just memories. She’s gone now.”

She says it in a desperate attempt to make it true, to keep herself from thinking about her. She cannot knit together the image of her mother. She cannot.

Too late.

It starts with her favorite dress—a soft, lilac thing, the skirt swishing so it always looked as though she floated on air. Serene face, brown skin warm and glowing, gently braided hair. A sharp contrast to the acerbic bite that came with her disapproval. And Arya always earned so much disapproval.

Even so, she’d clung to those skirts like a lifeline, up until the moment she was dragged away. She remembers the vacant expression on her mother’s face, as though she heard none of the screaming below her. As though there was no child there at all.

She loved what she thought you might be. She loved that you might be strong, influential. A shame, then, that you would be so far from that hope.

“You’re a liar. You lie, and take a voice that is not yours. I—I have others that care about me. I have a purpose.”

Your purpose? What purpose do you have here, but to suffer in service of those who would lock you away? A filthy mage, if you manage to survive. The one who mattered most to you did not. You are alone. Back there, child—the finger stops to point its grotesque, gray finger in the horizon behind her—back there your purpose is to serve and suffer. But you will go unfulfilled.

Arya knows, somewhere in her, that this is a demon. Somewhere further still, she knows this is simply an echo, a memory gone rogue. She’s been titled the leader of the Inquisition. She has a purpose. She has friends.

But the voice is like a hum, a chord plucked from a harp, and it has been so long since she heard it last, and it reminds her of the arms that once cradled her as they rocked back and forth in a chair together, willing her off to sleep. She shrinks.

Your so-called friends believe you a prophet, not a person. But that is a mantle you can never live up to. The demon tilts its head, and as its voice shifts, Arya is finally able to glimpse its face. It is pale, haggard, with small, sunken-in eyes. Its skin looks as though it will simply slough off. But nothing can compare to the mouth—the demon’s jaw dwarfs the rest of its skull in comparison, with giant, yellowing, gnashing teeth all too similar to a rat’s.

Dorian’s voice. The Herald of Andraste, felled by a wayward dagger.

Josephine’s. Unable to protect her Inquisition, much less the world.

Leliana. An accident of fate, on borrowed time.

Cassandra. A cruel joke to those truly devoted to the cause.

Cullen. Just a mage, weak and pathetic. Unable to make even a necessary sacrifice.

Arya’s knees give out. She collapses under her own weight, tears spilling from her face. “You’re not real. That isn’t…that isn’t true.”

The demon chatters its teeth, as if to chide her, and steals her own voice.

I am as real as the despair in your heart, as your understanding of the consequences of your inevitable failure. All that you cannot protect. You could accept it, then. Join me. Your suffering would be welcome, your companions safe. You would not have to fail.

“I can’t do that. I—they don’t deserve that pain.” She can fail herself, but she cannot fail the Inquisition, not now. Her life is not worth the suffering of all those people.

And yet, what can she do? She is trapped here, half-outside her own body, unable to do anything but wait.

There is another way, then, if you insist on this path. If you hope to escape failure.

“I can’t fail. I won’t.”

The demon steps forward, bending down next to her. Aryanne Trevelyan, weak little thing, you exist on stolen time. If you are to have any hope of fulfilling your purpose, you can be weak no longer.

The gnarled arm reaches through her chest.

You will walk a path of pain. They have never needed you, only what power you held. If you wish to save these people, you must be their spark. A false prophet who dies in a blaze of glory. Perhaps if you had done so at Haven, your enemies would be gone. Your people would be better off.

Arya awakes with a start, surging upright in her sick bed, and scares the man attending her half to death.

[poet-with-a-quill]

Watching Self-Help Channels at 2 AM

listen, okay there's something about that time of the night the darkness brings with it a peculiar honesty, events of the day catch up and pull me under, the not-quite-day of it is a liminal space, a turning point, a chance

(if i stay awake, then it can't be tomorrow because generally, if i'm like this- tomorrow's probably dead everything washed-out, gray there is no future, and i wish today had not been i cannot be at peace, i cannot face the next day)

delay too far past 2 AM and the next day is forfeited, and any time earlier still feels too public for the black-sludge emotions and spiraling, the imminent breakdown, a tornado refusing to be reigned in

i look for help- at night, there is only the internet salvation appears on my phone screen in the form of strangers. for just one moment, virtually, i fling the caraccas of my emotional psyche to them, i shout "do with this mess what you will!" a tired mother passing on a tantrum child

in those moments, i cannot understand myself and in this dark i can admit i don't think i will be able to not by myself this is terrifying in itself- this defeat who will understand me if i sometimes give up?

impossibly, they seem to catch me messy me, barely-there me, tired me they can see me, they explain me to me they say: you are not alone this happened, because of this logical reason or maybe it was illogical, but you're only human after all and considering the circumstances, they ask, would you blame somebody else? and have you had some water today? have you gone outside?

they make me want to come to me like i am not a malfunction or a scrap part to be binned but flawed and allowed to be so that it makes perfect sense to be so

some of them are psychologists and that lessens the shame sometimes someone had to do a whole-ass degree to know all this the ancient Greeks said: it is hardest to know yourself i end up cutting myself some slack

but truthfully, many times its just someone on the internet sharing a little bit of themselves their fears, their tears, their ugly defeats even that is enough that connection can tide me over the realization of the number of their 2am's that must have preceded this video makes me feel less alone.

i hug my phone screen sometimes in lieu of hugging them when things go well, 2 am passes quietly, a crisis handled and averted and brings with it sweet, sweet sleep the next day still exists, and i am okay, i can face it.

-shums

[breesays]

Tip Fucking Toe

This spot with the view of Wisdom Tree may not be our home for much longer. Our downstairs neighbors are forever complaining about us. Actually, what they were doing was knocking on the ceiling (I answered the door to no one twice before I realized it was them) and then banging on the ceiling.  I actually complained about them to our landlord, because the ceiling-banging is pretty stressful when we're just, you know, LIVING OUR LIFE. 

I changed HOW I WALK for these people. I tip fucking toe 24/7. Desmond has a big, plush rug in his room. And yet, last Tuesday, I get a text asking us to please "not play the instrument" because they are trying to get the baby to sleep. There was no instrument, we were on a video call. Maybe Desmond was dancing at the end of the Three Little Pigs story? But nothing resembling an instrument. I imagine I got the text because our landlord relayed that the banging on the ceiling was not acceptable.

Listen, Desmond goes to school 5 days a week and on the weekends, goes to Tim's. So there are about 3 after school hours each day that they MIGHT have to deal with the pitter patter of a 30-lb toddler. And yet, they cannot. I try to summon empathy for them, but 1. They were like this before they even had their baby and 2. We lived below and AirBnb for 4 years. The only time we ever complained were when guests were screaming and playing beer pong directly above our bedroom at 2am. We heard plenty. Dog nails. Furniture moving. Kids running. Sometimes we could even Shazam the music they ere playing.

So, I'm kind of fucking done. I want to leave, and I want the next tenant to be heavier, louder and more inconsiderate than we have been. 

I feel furious and defensive. What am I gonna do, tell Desmond to be less excited? He is, by far, the chillest kid I know. But he likes to play "kibble dibble" with the cats, likes dancing, and when he is happy about something, he jumps up and down. I'm not going to ask him to suppress that. At least not between the hours of 8am and 8pm. 

Tim mentioned something he read in one of his fitness books - how we spend the early years of a kid's life urging them to roll, sit, stand, walk - but when it comes to climb and jump and explore, we hinder them. "Be careful!" "Be quiet!" I am NOT all about that. It's one thing to be respectful but its another to have to change the way you LIVE to suit others needs. Sometimes if Des wakes up early and wants to play, he says, "Please Mama? I'll be quiet."

He's a slip of a child who spends most of his time playing with BALLOONS, the goddamn quietest toy in existence next to, I dont know, fucking FEATHERS? So I'm looking for a ground floor two bedroom for us, so we can LIVE. Pet-friendly, controlled entry preferable. In our area (NoHo) or Burbank. Would LOVE to move back to Los Feliz if possible. LMK if you spot anything.

[acatin]

Ok I am going to go pass out now because 10 mins before 2am is better than 2am itself haha

But please if you have any more Nyx thoughts for your Nyx or questions about mine chuck em over 👀

Not me completely missing this ask .

I'm gonna go on my big Nyx Infodump bc. I adore her <3

In order to talk about Nyx, I kinda have to explain how my goddesses function. I have 3 Goddess characters for my world, Ahiri.

Orla - goddess of the sun. Was created first, helped shape the planet and was the first to create life in this world. She rules the domain of light, love, and life.

Nyx - goddess of the darkness. She is the bad side of everything Orla stands for. Life vs death, dark vs light, nurturing vs dangerous. She was created at the same time as Orla, after all there cannot be light without shadows.

Lila - the goddess of the moon. Lila has a much stronger connection with the people of Ahiri. She is the youngest of the goddesses, bc she was only created as soon as Ahiri's moon was. She is the controller of prophecies, dreams, emotions, and some physical things like rain and sleep. [She even has a special connection to Alice, a mortal she reached out to for help when she was trapped by Nyx!]

Orla and Lila both are the goddesses worshipped by The Dove Sect, which values life and kindness, and also being a good person [which like every religion, can sometimes be strict.]

Nyx has a small Cult called The Flaming Citadel, which is more focused on living a full life, being passionate and free, and being allowed to release strong emotions even when they are violent. They put high value in lifting up the lower people in society.

Nyx is super jealous of The Dove Sect, since it has so much more followers, and so she decides that in order to become equal again she needs to eliminate one of the other goddesses. She chooses Lila to target bc her connection to shadows is stronger considering the moon phases, so Nyx has more power over her. After Lila is taken, the world changes in slight ways. The moon feels dimmer to some people observing it. People dream less, have nightmares more. People who are especially in-tune with the world feel as if their emotions are unstable. Alice, a mortal, especially is affected by this.

Nyx is a very emotional goddess, and as she grows in power, she becomes more and more bitter and angry. So she expands her goal. At first, she wanted to be seen, valued, and worshipped at the same level as her sisters, but soon she starts to be greedy for more control. She wants to be the ONLY important goddess. She wants to control the world in its entirety, she wants to destroy those who follow the goddesses of light.

So she starts to spread her influence. She finds people who have high magical abilities, and uses her charm and hypnosis to control them into joining her. These will be her priests, who will lead smaller sects of worshippers on her behalf, all under her control.

There's a lot of stuff that happens there that would take forever to explain but I absolutely love developing Nyx bc she is just so emotional. She has such pure anger and jealousy. Why do Orla and Lila get it all? Why doesn't SHE have control, why doesn't SHE get loved and adored, who are they to decide that?

She's my favorite for a reason lmao

[1-deadgirlwalking-1]

5/26/2024

(another entry i forgot to post) It is 2am. Today my uncle came over again and we watched the last episodes of ROTTMNT. We are gonna watch the movie the day after tomorrow and then we will be finished with the series in its entirety. Which honestly makes me sad because I wish the series was longer, it deserved better than a season and a half… But anyway I’m also almost finished watching Vinland Saga, I’m on the 18th episode of season 2. Keep slacking on finishing it though.

I’m learning how to do my eyeliner and am currently typing this with a fricked up face after doing it for the second time ever. It’s so DIFFICULT but also much easier than I expected. I’ll get better with time and all that. Yada yada.

I want to get better with procrastination, I have so many things I want to do that I can right now but I never do them or I haven’t even started yet. I Also just remembered as I’m typing this I was supposed to make my list of every single thing I need/want to do… I don’t think I finished that ahh.

Anyway. I’ve been thinking maybe I should find a hobby I can do that doesn’t require much effort to start, like a video game. My main issue with doing things is actually getting myself to start, it takes a significant amount of time for me to summon the will, but once I’m actually doing the task I’m fine. And you don’t have to set up or do anything to start playing a video game, you just click on it and play. Much easier than a physical hobby. Doesn’t require money for many games also which means don’t need to ask my parents for supplies or get a job.

The other thing is though, I get addicted to video games very easily, I get addicted to basically anything that is even slightly addictive actually. I’m quite prone to addiction. And that’s why I usually avoid playing games.

It is now 6AM. And I can’t decide whether to sleep or stay up. I want to sleep cause I feel bad, like I don’t know what to do at all and I don’t want to exist, and sleeping will fix that because it’s the same as not existing for a little while, AND I only feel like that because I’m sleep deprived. But I think that sleeping is the more unhealthy of the two options because if I sleep I’ll sleep all day and stay up again tomorrow which’ll just repeat the cycle. While staying up for the rest of the day would help get my sleep back in check. I don’t know. I’ll probably give into just wanting to not exist and sleep. Sleep is good. I like not existing for a little bit. Also my arm is so itchy and it wont go away I think something bit me.

I feel like people are watching me again. I always feel like people are watching me. I want to sleep so that I can stop feeling like people are watching me. People are not watching me but I can never convince myself of that because I am psychotic. Ugh I wanna die. Not really but y’know. It’s like, ew. Stop everything. Ever.

I’m gonna go to sleep. I am going to give in and repeat the unhealthy cycle because I can’t deal with thiiiissss. Throws up. Dies. Kills myself. Also side note I have a really bad fear that any time I say “I want to (insert some bad situation happening to me)” that god will make it happen as punishment for me saying that. But that is illogical. If I say “I hope I die” I won’t actually die just because of it. The other day when I was in really bad pain because of the plane landing I texted my friend, “I HOPE WE CRASH” and we didn’t crash. But maybe that’s just because the plane crashing would hurt other innocent people as well.

But me dying would also hurt my parents and siblings and friends. And just generally everyone in my life. So my death really cannot be used as punishment. Sigh.

I hate religion and society why can’t we just exist. But no we can’t. Everything has to be so fucking complicated and stupid with unnecessary shit attached and the highest stakes imaginable, so much so that you can’t even comprehend the punishment for doing it wrong. It worse beyond your imagination!!

It’s 1:59PM now. I got woken up like 20 minutes ago. I have to do the dishes now. Unload, reload. I already finished unloading before typing this and now I’m just sitting in the bathroom not actually doing anything to avoid reloading the dishwasher for a minute more. I’m gonna go do that now.

Nevermind mama did that while I was in the bathroom. She’s also making pizza out of focaccia bread. I switched over the laundry instead. Nothing else to talk about right now.

It’s 3:57PM. I just got out of the shower. I regret not putting a hair mask on. And I’m eating the pizza. It’s very soft and quite salty because mama had added salt after mozzarella not thinking about the fact that the mozzarella already has salt in it.

I’ve still been slacking on my Japanese, it’s been like 3 months since I started and I still don’t even know half of the kana I was supposed to memorize all of in a couple days. T^T I’m gonna do my kana today though. Try to make it a habit.

[awrldalone]

28th September 2023, 11.08pm

I haven't been sleeping properly. I wake up early to get to class on time, before the sun rises and stores open, but I also go to bed late at night. 

Yesterday I had a nightmare, its memory is already foggy in my mind but what I remember from the end, before I woke up, is that I was putting on my clothes, tightening my belt, when someone started opening the door to my apartment. I yelled to stop, and a small old lady dressed in hiking gear showed herself. Her face covered in wrinkles and furrows, her teeth were yellow with decay. Grotesque is the only word I can use to fully describe her. Behind her, a few steps back, there was a man. He was taller than both of us but just as old as the lady, rotting like her. I was horrified – not because of their mutilated appearance - but because I recognized them. We had already met, in Venice, and with evil in their eyes they had sworn they would find me. The woman spoke, her voice like a creaky door. She said she had finally arrived to my house. She said she arrived in M. when it was too late already, when I had already left. I was petrified. I woke up, breathing heavily in the dark. It must've been a few minutes before 2am. The only thing I could think of was that I was tired, but my body was scared, my nerves tensed, and I struggled to fall back asleep just to wake up a few hours later. Had I not slept so little in the past week I would have stayed awake, but finally exhaustion won over fear and for a few hours I was calm.

The dream contrasts so greatly with how yesterday went. One of my poems was accepted for publishing, after so many e-mails and so many submissions and so many rejections. It's the second one ever, but this time it's in print. When I saw the notification I was chatting with R. We talked for the first time yesterday, before class, because I sat next to him. He recommended me a book. I want to become good friends with him. He doesn't smile much, I noticed. We were talking about Anatomie d'une chute, a movie we watched, and I saw the e-mail notification. I did not open it, I just read the name of the sender. I assumed it was another rejection, but when I clicked on it my heart started beating so fast. Every letter I laid my eyes on was at least three beats of my heart. "Thank you for sharing your writing with us. We are pleased to accept – for inclusion in our Winter 2023 issue." 

They wrote that they will be publishing it online in November, and that the physical copies of their issue will be available in December. I don't even like the poem that much anymore, but the relief I feel is immeasurable. I told no one at university, I kept it to myself and texted M. His reaction disappointed me. Maybe I was expecting too much, maybe it is not in fact that big of a deal.  

This morning's class was long. Three hours. For the first twenty minutes I struggled to keep up with the professor's pace, writing down words with a weak handwriting, sloppily making letters look like one another. Taking notes seems to be hard for French students already, and it's only harder for me. But I'm stubborn. I hold my pen and listen to what the professor says, the regularity of all the laptops in the room being typed on is like a metronome. It's easy to take notes on a laptop: you just have to write fast, if you're a good enough stenographer you might even be able to type every word without missing a beat. When you write your hand, not only does it hurt after three hours, but you have to already begin a process of re-elaboration of the information that's being absorbed by your brain. Sometimes I end up writing a few words in English or Italian, because I cannot figure out how to quickly express the same concept in French.

The ink of my pen ran out. I had a spare one. I have been writing so much. 

After class I did not go home directly. I walked around. Finished reading The Year of Magical Thinking, and in turn bought a used copy of Slouching Towards Bethlehem. I like Didion's writing. I have a tendency to get interested in a specific kind of writer – Didion, Sontag, Ernaux – who writes so personally, so precisely. No words are wasted, every word weighs the correct amount. I waste a lot of words, especially when I write. I'd like to be more concise.

I walked, my new book in my bag, in Rue Voltaire. I wanted to visit a showroom by an art collective I follow on Instagram, but when I reached the address something stopped me from opening the glass door. I looked inside, a girl was sitting at a desk, scrolling through her phone. The room was small, dark, the light was off, and I could only see two sculptures and some mannequins wearing knitted dresses and two-pieces. I turned around and ended up wandering in the Marais. I will not hide the fact that part of me would have loved for a photographer to stop me in the street, asking me to take a picture of what I was wearing – but none of that happened. 

Paris is so big that you could go months, years maybe, without passing by certain streets. The places of the city I spend most of my time in did not even feel like what I had envisioned Paris during fashion week to be. But the Marais was livelier, I saw some well-dressed people and took a mental note of their outfits.

I noticed there's a Max Mara on the way to my house. I associate the store to my mother and to the city center, so the idea of living next to one makes my stomach turn. Not yet sure why.

It feels odd, profane, to call this apartment my house, my home. I'm eating at home, I said on one the phone when An. called me earlier today to ask me if I'd have lunch with them. But I still call Venice home, instinctively. I mentioned a store when I was talking to Ca. I told her it was near my home, and that I could get glass beads for ten euros a kilo. Then I corrected myself, adding that the store neat my house in Venice.

-c.

[ashes--21]

its almost 2am now, and i just spent the last 2 hours dusting off my entire pc setup and setting up the new rgb keyboard i got.

absolutely worth it.

HE'S AMAZING. I LOVE HIMMMM. thinking of naming him something, i love it that much. so obviously i wasn't gonna let it sit on the dust that hadn't been cleaned in who knows how long. i'm typing on it now, and MAN, is it smooth. usually takes me a day or two to get adjusted to a new keyboard, but with this one, i'm as swift as if i've been using it forever.

the light settings are GORGEOUS. the smoothness and elegancy of the keys have my fingertips tingling.

i'm probably fangirling a little too much over a keyboard, but hey, who's complaining.

there was nothing really wrong with my previous one, but there's a valid reason i ditched it. valid to me, at least. i've been using it for almost 3 years now, and it delivered great. all the keys were working and everything. but they'd become...stiff? like, i had to press extra hard on certain keys using my little finger and stuff. after using it in that state for a few months, my fingers and hands seriously cannot take it anymore. they legit hurt. still grateful to that one tho<3

should i treat myself and watch mlb now, or stop torturing my brain and eyes and just go to sleep already?

[iankarlo]

Midnights | 65th

Finally!!! The release of Midnight of Taylor Swift. I'm super excited and I kept on checking the time so I can finally listen to it. I'm very excited to listen to Lavander Haze. 

So while waiting, I kept myself busy and do my tasks. I'm loaded with tasks this Friday which is unusual but yes I am. Good thing since I'm very inspired and looking forward to the album, I am very focused. Although there are times I still talk to my friends, but I feel very productive that day. 

The time passed so swift and it's lunch time. I kept on refreshing the apple music for the music and it has traffic due to a lot of people streaming even the Spotify crashes in my phone. The first track I listened is the Lavander Haze and its a bop song. Although it is a sad song, I like the idea of it. But, unexpectedly, I got hooked with Anti-Hero its very me and I feel like it was made for me. I cannot help myself to like the song and the beat was extremely good!!!

After work I still keep myself listening to it and I started to love the Question...? I like the lyrics and the beat too!! Also, I enjoyed the spatial effect from Apple Music cause I get to enjoy all the album tracks. 

When I got home, I found out that Taylor released another version and it is a Midnights 3am version. There are 7 additional songs in to the album!!! I was about to scream when I find it out while I was falling in line buying my fruit shake. 

Later that night she released the music video and thay when I finally got hooked to Anti-Hero more. It was really a good song and I hope everyone would appreciate it as much as I do. This song talks about our loving ourselves and apppreciate who we are and we shouldn't be affected and be influenced by the socitey's standard. More of a self love I guess. 

Since I got too busy the entire day, I didn't manage to post a blog since I fell asleep early. I woke up around 2am and thought of writing my blog post today but I just chose to sleep since I rarely sleep a lot. 

I am very thankful to Taylor Swift for releasing an album when I was in my dark moments. I feel like it is a gift from God. I really love this album and I cannot wait to dig in more of the other songs. 

I kept pn streaming the songs the entire night even though I didn't manage to go to coffee shop to celebrate it like I usually do the previous album release. 

Thank you Taylor! I love you so much. 

Love always,

iankarlo

[kithtaehyung]

starry night (m) | jjk

title: starry night pairing: jungkook x reader(f) rating/genre: m(18+) ; fluff , smut ; established relationship, gamer au summary: all you wanted to do was take your boyfriend on a super late date. warnings: fluff, language, a tiny bit of overwatch lingo, thigh riding, a cute ass date :’)), fingering, penetration, protected sex, tit play if you squint, spanking, they’re both competitive af, hickies, praise, body worship, self-conscious reader argh, multiple orgasms, jk has a big dick but what’s new!!, tatted jk is a warning in itself, koo is a softie for his baby girl :(((, idk this really is just soft smut lmfao note: this is for all the koo lovers out there! also, this is a revamp from the last version bc that one was a version i wasn’t entirely happy with :’)) can’t even describe how much happier i am with this now dsjklf if you’ve read it or not, hope you like the newest version and happy jk day! drop date: september 1st, 2022, 9am est total word count: 7k

-

-

“One more game, okay?”

From your spot in the doorway, you wait as your boyfriend pushes half of a clearly worn down headset aside.

“What did you say, babe?”

“One more game!” Giggling at his befuddled expression, you surge on, “Then get dressed. There’s somewhere we have to be.”

Jungkook glances at his monitor before shifting meaningful eyes back toward you, stoic. Very, very stoic.

“It’s 2am.”

You wave off the obvious reluctance. This is something you'd been planning for a week, ever since you read that damn article on your phone.

“Seems so,” you decide to tease instead. “Just let me know when you’re ready!”

In a rush, you bound back into the hallway—the door left wide open in your springy wake. Judging by the yell followed by a quick grunt, you assume he got thrown into another match before he could scold you properly.

Perfect. You have time to get everything ready.

Excitement fizzles along your bones as you scramble around the apartment, gathering things in your arms.

Do you have the date and time right? Yes. Are you absolutely sure that your boyfriend is going to slink out of his cave? Probably.

Well.

He’s coming along this time, whether he likes it or not. So no matter what his response is, you’re gonna make it a yes.

But your answer arrives a mere ten minutes later, sweats and three layers of clothing swallowing its form.

“Wait, that was quick,” you observe. “Were there leavers?”  

“Two on our side,” he complains, frustration tugging his beanie down a little too far. "So boring.”

“Lame. Well, you can queue again after we get back from our date.” Snatching a blanket off the leaning pile next to your couch, you join Jungkook in the entryway.

But it’s only then that you realize something’s missing. “Oh, wait. Lemme get one more thing.”

While you poke your head in multiple rooms and rummage, your boyfriend continues his whining, “This date couldn’t wait until tomorrow? It’s freezing outside.”

Oh, it absolutely cannot. Not this time.

Offering a look of pity from a doorway, you sigh, “It really can’t.” You go back to your search, voice wrapping around the walls and furniture, “And we have a ways to go, so. You can sleep in the car if you want.”

His poor tone raises in pitch a couple pegs, “How long is this gonna take?”

“You’ll see!” Finally victorious, you secure the outdoor pillow you wanted—remembering it haphazardly flung into the dining nook during an impromptu pillow fight—and rejoin your boyfriend at the door. Flicking his nose with your free hand, you chuckle, “Always so impatient.”

The pout you receive is almost crushing, but you have to push forward.

However, as soon as you open your front door, you definitely think about chickening out.

Jungkook’s absolutely correct.

It’s bitingly cold outside.

“Shit, babe,” he winces, and you throw him an apologetic glance. “Are you sure you’re okay going?”

You nod while stepping out first, too affected by the chill to verbally reply. After you lock the door behind you both, you frantically follow him in a stilted race to your car.

Why does it have to be freezing? Why couldn’t you have gotten this idea during spring? Or summer!

Gritting your chattering teeth, you envy everyone in possession of a car with automatic-start.

But your jealousy is swiftly smothered, your boyfriend’s half-jog, half-hop form of travel pulling laughter from your throat instead of grumbles. With his puffed jacket swallowing his whole top half, he’s not far off from resembling a skittering ball of boba, and you can’t help but grin until your cheeks burn as much as your ears.

Your happy breath coalesces into the wind in soft tendrils. Even now, when it’s decidedly frigid, Jungkook somehow finds a way to keep you warm.

Just like he always does.

Goddamn, you love him. Though thrusting the two of you into near-subzero conditions in the dead of night may imply the opposite.

Regardless, you don’t have much of a way to go. After all, you had been meticulous in your planning, your vehicle a noble steel steed occupying the closest spot in the lot.

When you both settle inside with rapid puffing and shivering, you toss your pile of date items onto Jungkook’s lap. “Close your eyes for me, okay? You can’t know where we’re going.”

“Seriously?” He frowns in earnest now, shoulders knocking against his ears. “This feels more like an attack than a date.”

But despite his complaints, your boyfriend shifts the bedding in his possession before obeying, kicking his head back on the headrest and shutting his eyes. When you look over, you notice he’s already comfortable, arms slung around the pillow and blanket draped over his still legs.

There is still a downward slump to his lips, though. And while you can’t blame him, you still giggle because you know what’s coming. “Just trust me, babe. I’m sure you’ll like this place.”

Ugh. His tiny pout is still your favorite. “I bet not. But since you’re driving...”

After you pull out of your spot, a smirk carves into your features. “Bet for real, then,” you goad, tempting his competitive spirit. “If I win, you spend the whole night with me.”

It doesn’t work.

Without opening his eyes, Jungkook frowns with his whole face. “It’s the end of the comp season! I’m already pushing it not playing now.”

“Love the confidence, Kookie,” you chirp. “If I lose, I’ll never tear you away from your precious gaming chair again.”

A single sigh serves as his white flag of surrender. “Deal.”

And you don’t miss the grin in his tone.

Because if he’s thinking the same thing you are, he’s remembering the night you gifted him the damn thing.

Neither of you left that chair for awhile.

Finally, the car warms comfortably, and the accompanying music has you bopping your head and drumming gloved fingers on the wheel.

Jungkook’s melodic singing proves indicative of his content—a sign that he isn’t entirely against your mysterious scheme.

Scheme? More like a calculated risk. Either way, you can tell Jungkook’s interest is decidedly piqued, and it’s enough to make you even more thrilled.

Knowing the directions to the location by heart, you take necessary and unnecessary turns, twisting and winding through the city streets. Whether these cheeky moves throw your annoyingly observant boyfriend off or not, you can’t say for sure.

Regardless, you make sure that the trip is much longer than it needs to be.

Checking the time on your phone, you figure five songs is a good enough length of time to keep driving. So you finally decide to arrive.

When your destination comes into view, you roll into a parking spot and announce—proudly—“We’re here!”

As soon as Jungkook opens his eyes to survey the area, confusion mingles with relief across his whole demeanor, his brows moving in a stilted dance.

Reaching a breaking point, he outright laughs. “Seriously?”

The only thing you can do is cackle at his reaction.

You’re right back at your apartment complex, after all.

“Technically, this isn’t exactly where I wanted us to go,” you explain, smiling even harder at your boyfriend’s conflicting emotions.

You know he doesn’t really go out, and you knew that not giving him much to go on was going to frustrate him. But you thought of this idea and wanted to attempt it, since you both at least liked trying new things.

It’s so endearing to see him relieved that you’re home. But your date isn’t quite located somewhere inside. “We’re gonna hang out on the roof tonight.”

A blip of hesitation flashes across his eyes. “It’s even colder up there,” he notes, back to being the boy that didn’t wanna leave in the first place.

“It’ll be worth it! But we have to hurry, or else we’ll miss it.” You scramble out of the car without another word, and groan when Jungkook blatantly takes his time to get out of the passenger seat—slow, unhurried, annoying. “Oh my god, babe!”

“Okay, okay.”

“Follow me.”

The pair of you rush to get to the roof of your building—not without a barrage of complaints from him as you keep discovering stairs—and choose a spot to lay the blanket and pillow out. Lying down, you shuffle as close to your boyfriend as your puffy jackets allow.

You made it on time.

You think.

Crap, did you?

At least the wind isn’t too harsh tonight. This truly would’ve been a nice experience regardless if it wasn’t exceedingly and utterly cold.

But no matter.

Because above you, the sky is vast, and majestic, and speckled with tiny pinpricks of light. Not normally able to observe the universe at its fullest, you take in the current night with amazement, mouth opening in surprise as it claims your entire vision.

And you aren’t the only one steeped in wonder.

Beside you, Jungkook exhales, his awe leaving him in wisps. “Wow.”

“You like it?”

“This is nice.”

“It’ll get better,” you hope, recalling the article you based this entire night around. “Should be in just a moment.”

And you couldn’t have been more timely.

On cue, a wintry meteor shower graces the skies. Streaks of white, orange, and yellow soar across the dark expanse—tiny light trails carving bright, uncharted roads through an indigo ocean.

And the cold only makes this mesmerizing procession more memorable. Both of your bodies remain frozen, subtly forced to focus solely on the spectacle overtaking your eyes.

Extraordinary. Stellar.

Fully enraptured, you almost forget to gauge your boyfriend’s reaction.

So when you drink in his appearance, your heart flutters so rapidly that it threatens to collapse or burn out like a dying star.

All the celestial bodies congregate in his orbs, the meteors from above suddenly swimming in his pupils and sparkling across his irises.

Does he really encapsulate more in his soul than what exists in the heavens?

How is that even possible?

Your breath hitches without your permission, and you aren’t sure if it’s the weather that coaxes tears from your eyes or your love for the boy gasping skyward.

When Jungkook turns to face you, you know the answer is both.

Noticing your features, he simply smiles. One cheek is wiped. Then the other.

“I win,” you proclaim in a cracked voice, and he only laughs and tugs you in for a crushing hug.

“You win.”

Immersed in his warmth, you allow more tears to fall sideways, your adoration sliding straight into the rough material of his jacket.

There isn’t another place in the world you want to be, no other marriage of latitude and longitude that can coerce your bones. Curling your fingers around his coat, you whisper,

“But seriously, this is all I wanted to show you. You can go back to playing when we get back inside.”

“Look at me.”

Tilting your head, you aren’t allowed a second to think before soft lips descend upon yours, conveying everything from gratitude to love in the span of seconds. Before you can respond in kind, your boyfriend pulls back, his voice a plush tenor as he explains,

“A win is a win.”

“But you said—”

Another peck halts your tiny excuse.

“There’s always next season,” he murmurs, nudging your chilly nose with his own. “And I didn’t know you were showing me this.”

Thankful, you sigh, “Okay. Well, let’s go back inside, at least.” Attempting to sit up, you get tugged back down in a blankety heap. “What!”

“The meteor shower! Is there more?”

“Oh. No,” you sigh. “It’s already over.”

“Aw, man! Really?” Jungkook flops back to scan the galaxy again, as if some blazing trails would still be lingering in the dark.

Huffing out a laugh, you admire his childlike wonder, never wanting it to leave him behind.

“That was so cool.”

“It was,” you agree, getting to your feet. “I read about it last week. I figured you’d like it.”

Beaming up at you, your boyfriend gathers the blanket and pillow under his arm before standing, cradling one of your gloved hands in his sure fingers. “I like anything with you,” he admits, reserved in his expression but confident in his words.

And even though your body’s frozen, your heart is positively melting.

“Good thing, then.” You chuckle as you both approach the stairwell door, deciding to test his statement, “I’ll remember that when I ask you to knit with me.”

“Uhh.” Jungkook simply offers a cocked brow. “Warning you now. Don’t get mad when I end up better than you.”

“I have smaller fingers. You’re never gonna surpass me.”

“Maybe I already know how to knit.”

“Prove it.”

Jungkook yanks the ponderous exit open, holding it for you to pass through first. “When grandmas love you, do you ever have to prove anything?”

Tossing a disgruntled look over your shoulder, you scoff, “That’s not fair! Grandmas love you anyways.”

There’s a flash of teeth when he giggles at your glowing accusation. Rolling your eyes, you decide to catch him unawares. “But whatever. You know what I’m better at?”

“Mm, coming in second?”

“Running down stairs.”

Bursting into a sprint, you hightail it down the metal steps, chortling at the whiny shouts behind your descending form.

Down, down, down. Turn after turn.

Holy shit, how many flights are there?

You counted four on the ascent but it feels like a miscount at that moment. Your boots squeak with every stride, the stairwell thrumming with the two of you tearing through its indents.

Jungkook’s heavy shoes paired with the floofy baggage should slow him down, but his determination seems to grant him an extra boost. Hauling yourself forward, you expend every last drop of energy to reach the bottom floor first, huffing and puffing your victory brag when you achieved your goal.

A few steps behind, Jungkook breathily accuses, “Chea—”

“And the score is two to zero!” You abruptly cheer as you pompously shove the building door aside, steamrolling his wrong words with raised arms.

“Maybe I will go and queue again,” Jungkook teases behind you, earning an instant mini-grovel. At your whiplash display of emotions, he blows out a laugh, admitting,

“I’m kidding. But don’t test me.”

Your apartment is just in reach. Still breathing hard from the long descent, you retrieve your keys, hearing them jangle before you slot them into the door.

As much as you enjoyed your short-lived date, it’s nice to be back inside. The pair of you shuck off your coats and winter accessories as soon as you cross the threshold, both winded and thinking of the stellar event.

A stark difference in temperature, the warmth inside only tickles your iced cheeks. Slipping off your boots, you place yours next to Jungkook’s on the front mat before ambling to the living room.

It’s absurdly late, but the adrenaline from your sudden competition has you firmly alert.

Good. You’re sure to crash beautifully in about thirty minutes.

Puffed cushions greet you as you plop onto the sofa, and you curl your legs while waiting for your boyfriend to join. Your fuzzy sweater bunches around your waist, and you tut as you tug it back down, still self-conscious even after all these years with his assurances.

Light humming wafts from the entrance, and you simply bask in the soft notes, serene. 

While you consider yourself pretty average in the choir department, your boyfriend truly is otherworldly. Your affection has reached the point where you’re thoroughly convinced he was a siren in his past life - or at least the reason behind those myths.

Tugging off the last of his overshirts, Jungkook joins you with only a simple tee. You shamelessly admire the way his chest and arms resist the material - and the way his waist does not.

Dumping himself by your side, he rests his fluffy head on your shoulder, and your body’s response is to hum on contact. “What now, miss two-zero,” he queries, giggling when you scoff.

“I dunno.” You lay your head on his, feeling the silkiness of his dark locks on your thawing cheeks. “I honestly thought you were gonna go back to playing, so. I didn’t make any other plans.”

Tenderly, you place a kiss on his crown of hair, your lips straying a beat after.

When he visibly perks up, you immediately know that, despite being holed up in that damn game room all week, Jungkook missed your touch significantly. 

Which is perfect. Because you’ve been wanting his, too.

His eyes lift, traces of stars and diamonds embedded within their depths. Flitting his gaze to your lips, he seems temporarily spaced - a look he had been wearing recently. It’s like he has something he wants to say, but either has the words jammed in his throat or not there at all.

If he didn’t melt at your touch, this definitely would be where you started to worry. Instead, you’re just downright concerned.

“What, baby,” you whisper, slipping right into a sigh as a strong hand cradles your neck and smooth lips connect with your curiosity.

Jungkook takes his time, lazily kissing you as if he was destined for nothing else in existence.

And you respond, matching his relaxed strokes and letting him skip over the subject. Even as he lowers your bodies onto familiar cushions, you’re okay if you talk about it later.

Besides. You’re most definitely crashing soon.

This man will make sure of that.

Bunching your hands in his shirt, you tug him a tad closer, sighing through his hot breaths when you feel his chiseled weight on your stomach.  

Leaving your wet and pouting lips, he only smiles before pecking your forehead, stilling in a delicate pause before dragging his nose across your countenance to kiss both cheeks.

And you can only shudder under his tenderness. In an attempt to hide—bashful nature taking over—you duck your head into the safety of his neck. 

But you can’t run for long because Jungkook swoops in to reclaim your lips, the sudden move causing heat to swirl between your thighs and desire to fill your pupils. “Kookie.”

“Yes, baby girl,” he answers, a tiny trail of saliva between your mouths as he pulls away.

Your response comes out a sigh, “Nothing.” Reaching up to shift a long bang out of his face, you drink in his beauty, never running out of sips. “I just love you.”

Grinning, Jungkook’s eyes twinkle as he proudly reciprocates, “I love you, too.” He hauls his body up before taking one of your hands. “Come here.”

Wordlessly, you acquiesce for your self-proclaimed siren, letting him lure you from the couch to embark on a telltale journey to your bedroom—depths you would endlessly dive.

Glancing at your conjoined hands, you roam your eyes over his veiny forearms, admiring the ink on his canvas. Your favorite work of art. No museum in the world was worthy enough.

Jungkook turns in the doorway before pulling you close, bending to capture your lips in a shockingly heated kiss. Jerking your arms up to hold his biceps, you bury your digits into his muscles, dragging them hard the way he loves so much.

And it awakens a sleeping beast: inked fingers clawing at your pants.

“You want them off, baby?” When you receive a nod in response, you pause your movements to slip out of the material, letting your bottoms puddle around your feet.

Without warning, Jungkook dives in to lather your neck with hot breaths, wordlessly letting you know he wants the sweater gone next.

And, without fail, you resist and want to keep it on.

“You’re so beautiful,” your boyfriend mutters into your skin, fighting off those familiar thoughts he knows lurk in your conscience. “You don’t ever have to hide from me.”

“I know, but...”

“It’s okay.”

As he leads you both to your comforting bed, you melt into his increasingly searing nips and sucks, moaning as his tongue licks all the way up to your ear.

“We can make you feel good first.”

You don’t even register Jungkook sitting on the edge until your underwear comes in contact with his sweats, his erection rigid against your soft sex.

How can he get hard so quickly? How does this happen, time after time? He always blames you, but you never quite believe him. Then again, you never get enough time to—

A deep chuckle rumbles within his ribcage as he repositions you, body hovering over one of his thighs. His gorgeous, upsettingly tight thighs. 

Teasingly, he asks, "This is where you like it, huh?”

“Yes,” you admit in a moan, wasting no time in sliding your slick core over his pants. “I like this.” 

A hand comes up to slap your ass, and you buck forward on his leg when he rasps out, “Show me how much you do.” 

Unsurprisingly, your underwear proves thoroughly soaked already, and you call yourself a hypocrite for wondering how Jungkook manages to get turned on so fast. 

Under your boyfriend’s lidded observance, you only want to grind hard, with purpose. The friction you want exists in his bulging muscle, rubbing against your covered clit with each thrust, and you can’t help but squeeze yourself around his leg. Harder, tighter, stronger.

Drinking in your movements, Jungkook parts his lips, tensing his thigh at the perfect moment and chuckling darkly when you react.

“Don’t be shy,” he murmurs. “Wanna hear you, too.”

Mewling, you clasp your hands around the back of his neck, rolling your hips repeatedly and wordlessly thanking your boyfriend for working out so often. Fuck, just his thigh is almost enough to make you come. The tautness feels delicious under your clit, and sighs cascade out of your mouth like pretty waterfalls.

“God,” he groans, finally lifting your sweater and yanking it off your raised arms. When he realizes you opted not to wear a bra underneath your thin shirt, he kicks his head back in agony. “Fuck, baby.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree with a nod of your head. Biting your lip, you rejoin your hands behind his neck and continue to swivel your hips, clenching your thighs around his when your bundle of nerves hits just right. “Feels so good,” you gasp, your breath ragged and steeped in hunger.

“I know.” Your boyfriend tugs your shirt up until your breasts are freed, mouth encircling a nipple and sucking with a lick.

Fuck! Want gushes from your center as he admires your chest—each lick, each suck, each swirl of his tongue—soaking through your underwear and staining liquid white on his pants.

More.

You need a lot more.

Your core aches for a deeper intrusion and you both know it. “Kook,” you whimper, pressing your sweaty forehead to his. “I can’t. I need you.”

“Then lift up for me, love,” he responds, lightly patting one plump side of your ass.

Obeying, you release a drawn out moan as you feel him slide your panties over before one of his deft fingers slips into your folds. Rubbing your clit slow, he collects your sweet juices before lodging his digit in your cunt.

Fucking hell, he knows your body better than you do.

But of course he does. The times before have made him an expert. All those beautiful, tender, countless times before.

Watching your little jumps and tweaks seems to bring him joy, eyes alight with hunger for your pleasure. Inserting another finger, he starts to pump them in a steady rhythm until you felt that hidden spring in your body tighten alarmingly quick.

Shit! There’s no way you’re gonna come so soon, is there? Is there? 

“Baby, I’m close,” you whisper in warning anyway, forehead hot and perspiration starting to coat your face. “You’re too good at this, fuck.”

“Come then, baby,” he coaxes with a smile.

You snap your lust-heavy eyes to his. “You sure?”

“Promise.” His smile tilts to the side as his confidence drips from the corners. “I’ll just make you come again.”

Fuck.

Chasing your high in earnest, your sticky thighs burn as you launch into a quick pace, outright fucking his hand as his slippery digits show no mercy. Your essence leaks out from between his fingers to stain your thighs, but you can’t think about anything else other than release. Release release release.

And it consumes you whole in an instant. Strong. Pulsing. Endless. 

Swallowed by your high, you barely register Jungkook’s hushed praise and encouragement. Pleasure is the only thing you know as it surges through you, twisting across your locked limbs and leaving you weightless, elevated, teetering on the edge of a precipice.

Only the sight of your boyfriend licking his fingers clean is your sole, solid grasp on reality.

Because oh. That’s you he’s licking off his fingers.

Why does that always make you feel both turned on and embarrassed all at once?

Slumping forward into the crux of his shoulder, you inhale the heady scent that mingles with his cologne. “Holy shit, I think I saw stars.”

A breathy laugh cascades down your back. “Mm, let’s make that two-one then.”

“You would still keep score,” you huff, dragging your lips across his sweaty skin before attaching them to the base of his neck. As soon as your heated mouth latches on, Jungkook grants you better access, his reaction coming out in a low groan.

Taking the opening, you lick a trail up his column to his ear, sucking on his pulse once you venture back down. Feeling him sigh beneath you creates an urge, and you nip at his skin with more force than usual.

Arms tighten at your sides with a hiss. “Baby, yes.”

You alternate between nips and sucks along his smooth neck, imagining how beautiful it would be if he got it inked, too. Sliding your burning tongue up the shell of his ear, you bite down before pouring praises inside.

To your delight, Jungkook’s cock twitches on your thigh.

Humming, you ask with glee, “Did we find something you like, too?”

“Not sure.” He hisses again. “May need further tes—Fuck.”

You chuckle with joy as you lick his pulsing ear, the skin bright and angry from the torturous nick you just inflicted.

Experimenting and learning Jungkook’s body is something you will never tire of. It remains one of your favorite hobbies, and will stay that way for a wonderfully long time.

Worked up, your boyfriend finally yanks his shirt off, pulling you back in for a searing kiss when it’s thrown onto your laundry chair. Molding yourself into him, your nipples scrape his bare skin—the friction creating another set of swells in your core.

Hugging you close, Jungkook softly falls back onto your bed, keeping you aloft his rippling abdomen. Finally stretching out your legs, you feel relief in your thighs, wincing at the burn from strenuous use. 

Goddamn, you’ll be surprised if you can walk to the next room when everything is over. 

Jungkook isn’t privy to your thoughts. In this new position, he slips your underwear off before grabbing your ass, marveling at its plush curves like he’s never touched you before.

“You see it everyday, Kook,” you murmur between unhurried kisses.

“I do...” He presses his pelvis into yours, his hardened length sliding torturously against your dripping core. Your mewl harmonizes with his groan before he sighs, “But it’s just so perfect.”

You want him. You want him now.

Despite already reaching the summit, you’d plummeted back down and vow to climb again. “I’m still in a shirt and you’re still in pants,” you complain. “Take them off.”

Beneath you, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates through your chest. “You’re the one that held my thigh hostage!”

“Yes, and?”

“It was hot as fuck.”

“Exactly. Hurry up!”

“Okay, okay!” He huffs out a laugh. “Grab a condom then.”  

Puffing, you push yourself up before slipping out of your already rumpled shirt. Chucking it as close to the laundry chair as you can—both of you humming in pride when it actually gets there—you start crawling across the bed to reach one of the nightstands.

“Ow,” you heave out, met with another light chortle. “My thighs.”

You hear the shuffling of clothes behind you as you retrieve a package from the drawer, sliding it shut before dropping your body in a tired heap.

Damn. There’s a lot of ground to cover between you and him. How the hell are you gonna get over there?

Deciding on the easiest course of action, you literally roll toward your unconcerned boyfriend until you mush into his muscular, bare form. “Hey,” you puff. “Feel sorry for me.”

As he situates himself on an elbow, your boyfriend’s lips mush just to keep a laugh from escaping. But he fails massively, his outburst above your nose causing his eyes to crinkle.

“That was the cutest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Pouting and trying to ignore the tingling you feel, you slap the condom wrapper against his chest. “Those stairs took a lot out of me. My thighs are officially tapping out for the night.”

Long fingers still on the metallic packaging. “Did you still want to keep going?”

“What? Duh.”

“Oh, okay. Just making sure.”

Tilting your head and smoothing out the covers underneath, you lament, “We haven’t even started on you yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Bending down to plant a heartwarming kiss on your forehead, Jungkook only smiles. “This is about you. I’m already happy.”

“Ugh, stop,” you whine, reaching down to take his velvety cock in your fingers. “Don’t be lame.”

“Babe.” A stern look darts your way and, after you hum in curiosity, he cocks a brow. “You literally made us get in a car so you could drive us back home.”

Laughing in earnest, you quickly admit defeat. “Damn, you got me.”

Your mirth is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips as he descends, an overwhelming appetite for everything you can offer. Pushing his cock further into your palm, his kiss deepens just as much.

His length always feels so weighty in your hand—so comforting, so familiar. But even in its smooth familiarity, you’ve never, ever gotten tired of pleasuring him. You were sure you could stay in and rub his cock until your arm fell off—or if he asked, sucked on it until he begged you to stop.

But he doesn’t ask for either of those things in that moment—solely focused on exploring your heated mouth until he maps it all. Jungkook really is orbiting around you and you alone, and you want to gift him the universe in return.

Relishing in the smoothness of his limbs and feeling safe in the embrace of his build, you stroke him in earnest—pulses in your core in sync with every groan you tug from his throat.

Suddenly, feverish lips leave you chilled.

“Hold on, babe.”

Leaning back, Jungkook effortlessly rips the wrapper open with his teeth before tossing it, his elbow digging into the mattress. After you retract your sticky hand, you watch with a small smile as he covers himself before hovering his beautiful body over yours.

But that’s all he does, and it’s intriguing.

What’s he thinking?

You’re about to ask when his words cut you off.

“You’re…” His eyes roam over your form, the heat of his gaze causing your arms to furl over your chest instinctively. Gingerly halting your limbs, he whispers,

“You’re the love of my life.”

So many things could’ve been said in that moment. So many phrases he has said before in similar situations. But what does he say? What does he go with?

You weren’t expecting that at all.

“Baby,” you murmur, blinking to quell the burn in your ducts. “If you keep saying stuff like that, I’ll cry.”

Gently nudging your legs apart, he slots his body in between. “I mean it,” he pledges, lowering himself to cage you in. Molding his entire body into your naked form, he shuts his eyes in wonder before regarding you with a loving gaze. Soft locks tickle your cheek as he kisses your neck, licking and sucking in the spots that affect you the most. “But I’ll stop.”

“For now,” you correct. “You can make me cry after.”

Jungkook’s breathy laugh will always be one of your favorite sounds. “Deal.”

Sighing, you reach up to clasp his flexed biceps, tightening your holds whenever he starts sucking on your pulse. How he went from worshipping you to devouring you was always intriguing. Maybe to him, they were one and the same.

Between your legs, your folds flutter with want, and you lift your hips as a tiny hint.

“Say what you want, baby girl.”

“You know what I want.”

“Nu uh.”

Feeling the abrupt girth of his head protruding your folds, you grunt with a harsh shot of breath. “Fuck,” you gasp. “I want you, but not all at once, fuck.”

“How are you always so tight,” your boyfriend wheezes, rubbing his length up and down your cunt before nudging in slow. “Holy shit.”

You whimper at the intrusion until you feel yourself adjusting.

But this was expected. Jungkook’s so damn large that you go through this every time. The only times that have been different have come after he’s eaten you out, and even then he’s still a bit big.

However. You know what proceeds the slight ache, and it’s completely worth it. The euphoric feeling of being completely and utterly together. One.

Your core molten and clenching around him, you purr at the way he goes deep, deeper, bottoming out. Above you, Jungkook starts perspiring in earnest, grunting as he keeps himself still. Sheathed entirely inside, he goes back to ravaging your neck, and you encourage him to finally move with a rock of your hips.

“So fucking big,” you praise, mewling when he chuckles during a deep thrust. “I love your dick, baby.”

“It’s yours,” he offers with no hint of hesitation, rolling his hips until you see another set of stars. With each long thrust, his ridges rub like heaven, your lower lips singing their gratitude in tight spasms. “I’m all yours.”

“You can go faster,” you mention in passing, though the breathiness of your voice gives away your desperation.

Maybe you are desperate. May as well lean into it. “Go faster. Faster.”

“If you start being bossy, I’ll come.”

“That’s the point, Kookie.”

Grunting in agreement, he slips a strong arm underneath your hips, lifting you at a slight tilt. The new angle allows him to penetrate deeper, and you sing his name in a continuous hymn with every other plunge. Again and again and again.

His lips connect with yours for the upteenth time that night, as if he was continually magnetized and couldn’t stay away for too long. Your breath’s stolen away with each pass—his soul pouring into yours to make up for its absence.

With each fleeting second, your skin proves slicker with sweat and effort. Exertion appears on Jungkook’s own body in the way his muscles and veins bulge, pulse, shove against the confines of his skin. Ever faster, his hips never tire as he finds a steady rhythm.

“Babe, fuck—”

“So fucking tight.”

Your breasts bounce each time he penetrates, and he curls his body to take one of them in his fiery mouth. You arch your back to aid his hunger, and you moan with every intentional lick and swirl of his tongue.

Nipping your bud, Jungkook smirks at your squirming before attacking the other, shoving his cock far into your sex just to see how loud he can make you whine.

Breathless, you go limp and take his hard rhythm in stride, riding the high of feeling so incredibly full. Only the sounds of your small mewls and his reserved grunts permeate the air, thickening the room and layering more sweat on your skin. You’re sure you look as fucked out as your boyfriend appears, lust manifesting in passionate blooms on his slick skin.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he lauds. “Love when you relax for me.”

“Feels so good, Kookie.”

“That’s what I want for you.”

Lolling your head to the side, your lidded gaze latches onto his inked arm. So pretty, just like him. You gnaw on your lip as you contract against his pulsing length, your body bumping with the knocks of his thrusts.

The desire that had been unleashed before coalesces again with a vengeance, sneaking up from the earth and balling itself inside your core. Sliding your eyes to meet Jungkook’s wanton expression, you whimper, “I’m close again, baby.”

“Fuck, I can tell.” He dips his forehead down to yours before sliding his hand to your hip. Gripping your skin, he’s sure to leave tiny bruises with how rough he holds on.

But you don’t care. You love when he loses control.

His heated breath ghosts down your features as he rolls in exaggerated thrusts, and his heavy hums clue you in to his own chase.

“You, too?”

“Ye... Yeah,” he grunts, voice high in pitch.

“Good. You’re so hot when you come.”

Your praise coaxes a whine from him before his motions became unpredictable and erratic.

There it is. He’s so close. Just one more push.

Abandoning your squelching sex, you suddenly use both hands to claw at the rippling muscles of his back. Angry red scratches tear through his nearly-unmarked skin—the only other scars from more passionate ones you inflicted before.

A strangled groan empties out above you, and his mouth flops open in unhinged desire. Darkened, blown out orbs bury into your sweaty face, and you squint to fire heavy lust in retaliation.

Contained energy threatens to burst inside of you. Another high in plain sight. Tugging at Jungkook’s long, wet locks, you shove his mouth onto your ravenous lips, impaling him with your furious tongue.

His breath shoots out between your fervent demands, “Gonna. Gonna come.”

“Do it, baby.”

With the next thrust, you’re pulled under instead, tumbling under the currents of your orgasm and spiraling out of control. Your boyfriend follows close behind, and you can feel him twitch furiously inside of your walls.

The moment only lasts mere seconds, but you feel afloat for much longer, your body wracked with release. Words of affection tumble onto your heaving chest before Jungkook slides out of your exhausted core, and his body dumps into an exhaustive heap right next to you.

Always a new and ethereal experience with him. You can’t explain how beautiful it feels to have him in your arms when you come, or when he reaches his own high.

In a way, you could say it’s touching. Laced with enchantment. Something deeper than love, if that were even possible.

But there aren’t any words in existence that can describe the feeling, so you only settle with conveying how you feel in your actions.

Lightly raking your hands through his sweaty hair, you smile before kissing the tip of his nose, nuzzling it before thumping your head back onto the comforter.

“We should clean up.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, his body not conveying the same willingness.

And you can’t blame him: your own limbs didn’t feel adequately attached to the rest of your body. You’re essentially strewn about the bed in parts yourself.

“How are your arms,” you grunt, struggling in your quest to achieve a sitting position.

Your boyfriend nudges your back with his floppy hair, helping you straighten in the most adorable way possible. “They’re okay. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

Sliding off the bed, your entire body feels like gelatin for bones, Jungkook jutting an inked arm out to steady your wobbling.

A giggle punctuates his inquiry. “That bad, huh?”  

“Shut up. This is your fault.”

“Nu uh.” Standing and guiding your fawn-like feet to the bathroom, Jungkook counters, “I wasn’t the one hauling ass down four flights of stairs.”

“Yeah. That’s why you lost.”

“Brat.”

“You like it.”

As you both go through your clean up and bedtime routines, the light banter continues. It quickly transforms into delirium from being the dark early hours of morning, nonsensical quirks and giggles puncturing the apartment walls.

When you’re settled back into your bed, you curl your body into his. But you still aren’t quite comfortable: throughout your small time in the bathroom, your feet somehow managed to freeze over again. Seeking immediate thawing procedures, you slot them between Jungkook’s legs.

“Hell no!” He wiggles rapidly and attempts to run from your iced extremities, whining when your toes chase him down under the sheets. “So damn cold!”

“I’m trying to get warm!”

“Damn it... You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am,” you hum, your face smug.

Even with his protests, your boyfriend clamps his limbs around your feet to give them heat.

Silence settles like a light dust over your bodies. Heavy with contemplation and satisfaction, Jungkook quietly slings an arm over your body to pull you closer. Though he absolutely doesn’t need to keep his voice low, he whispers to your forehead,

“Thank you for the date tonight.”

Heart fluttering, you nuzzle into his chest. “Thank you for joining me. Sorry for ruining your rank.”

“Fuck my rank,” he huffs with a hint of mirth. “This was the most fun I’ve had in months. It made me even more sure of…”

Huh?

Of what?

Confused, you tilt your head within your small space. “More sure of...?”

“Umm.”

Feeling his hold tighten around you, you aren’t positive if you felt a slight shake of his fingers or not.

A slight, prickling feeling skittered over your skin, goosebumps flaring like your heart knew what he was going to say without him uttering a word.

“I was gonna save this for a better time, but, uhm.” He pauses, a million moments in between. “I just know I wanna marry you.”

Oh.

You still—only for a small beat—before relief bubbles from your throat.

When Jungkook regards you with a confused face, you breathily respond, “Is that what you’ve been wanting to tell me this whole time? I thought that was already the plan, silly.”

“Really?” Solace floods his features, and you can’t for the life of you understand how he didn’t get that impression before.

Does he really not know how incredibly and unabashedly threaded he has you around his tattooed finger? Who the hell else would you stand out in that weather for more than a millisecond for? For who else would you traverse the galaxies if he ever lost his way—tearing through planets just to find him and bring him home?

“Yes, really,” you giggle, wetting your lips before capturing his. “Just let me know the date and time and I’ll show up.”

Chuckling, he presses a tender kiss to your nose before padding around for his phone. His curious, determined face illuminates like a single star, and you fill the bed with mirth when he ponders aloud,

“Then when’s the next meteor shower?”

-

-

-

end.

-

A/N: YAAAAY if you made it to the end, welcome!! thank you so much for the support and always feel free to let me know what you thought. this is a revamped version and i am way more happier with this result, so if you’ve read both, thank you twice :D as for more jungkook content: it is coming!! got wips in the works and should be putting out updates/teasers soon. of course, any feedback will definitely be appreciated. my ask box is always open<3 ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here!   ++ ⇥ masterlist 

[sassynosubete]

everything wrong with show colin bridgerton

It’s 2am but I’m SO disappointed that I let go of any thoughts of sleep and welcome the one emotion I usually do not harbor. Anger. Season 2 of Bridgerton was a mess for sure. If you enjoyed it, fine, no offense. But for readers, it was a mess. Kanthony is my second fave ship from the book series and although I loved the (super duper sexual) dynamic between actors, I didn’t get enough of,,,,,kanthony? Like, the season wasn’t about them.

It was about ruining characters. You might argue that how can they ruin something they barely established in the first season so I’ll repeat, I’m a book stan. I’ve read Romancing Mister Bridgerton more than I would like to confess. It’s embarrassing. Since my fave Bridgerton is this guy named Colin Bridgerton, just like any other Polin stan, I had expectations.

They were destroyed by the first season. Colin is a very complex character and he has his own share of flaws. I would never argue that he is perfect because he clearly isn’t. However, the book Colin never had a major romantic plotline before Pen. He wasn’t even particularly interested in relationships in my opinion. He had issues with his place in the world, society, in his own family. Obsessed with leaving a heritage or “something of importance” behind him, he tried to escape his demons while traveling around the world. He couldn’t.

Penelope helped him to chase away his demons.

Instead of this well-written version, we had a heartbroken, traumatised boy full of trust issues because of the most unnecessary plotline. Whatever, I got over it.   Then boom! This dumb, pathetic manchild literally went to the house of a married woman with 2 children, tried to get her back after rejecting her, and got DRAGGED by the same woman. Tbh, I’m not a huge fan of Marina but I was rooting for her when she simply said: What the fuck is wrong with you?

Because, same, what the fuck is wrong with this guy? This is not Colin Bridgerton. This is someone else!

You might say: “Well, the writers are doing it to build a base to make him more mature in next seasons!” The man acts like he’s 13. He cannot get any more childish than that. The way he handled the Featherington scheme was so hard to watch. Still, he tries to escape the reality, funny dude, we get it - but on top of all that, they decided to add the FAMOUS “I would never marry Pen” line.

It wasn’t the OG one, it was just there to sprinkle more pain onto Pen.

BUT:

We didn’t see the reaction of Colin seeing Pen hurt. 

The talk wasn’t between brothers but a chat between members of the society that always excluded Pen. 

Its effect on the story was barely seen because the timing was off.

Basically, Colin was a full asshole this season (except like... 2 scenes). Notice how I didn’t include the part where he said that he doesn’t see Pen as a woman. Because that’s book accurate. However, the Marina plot and the following pathetic manchild vibes throughout the season.... ruined him for me. I don’t know how the writers plan to develop his character after this point, I honestly have no idea how he can be saved from being the worst ML of the series.

I still can’t believe Marina had to tell Colin about Pen’s importance. I can’t stress this enough, this changes the whole dynamic of the book. Colin was the Bridgerton who had to learn how to be in peace with the fact that he’s a Bridgerton. He struggled to find an ideal and shape himself to fit the standards that weren’t expected from him. He was full of flaws yet perfect in the eye of everything he wanted to escape and serve at the same time. His relationship with love was supposed to be this weak link, barely visible, mainly connected to how he never let others perceive the real him as he never let himself perceive the real Pen.

I’m so sad. One of my favorite characters got destroyed by Netflix. I want to say that I’m hopeful for the next season but I am not. I wish, I were. If you excuse me, I’ll go and reread Romancing Mister Bridgerton again. I’m mourning the loss of a loved one.