#LITERALLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!YOU HAVE MY ENTIRE HEART AND SOUL I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Insatiable

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ Fluff, smut (not a lot), this would be me yall, ovulating rn fr, who wants this but roles reversed

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You simply can’t keep your hand to yourself

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Rafayel hadn’t painted in days.

Not because he didn’t want to, but because every time he even tried to so much as touch a brush, a certain beautiful menace was dragging him right back into the bedroom by the collar like a starved kitten with her favorite toy.

His poor shirt was buttoned wrong. His once pristine neck was painted in lipstick marks and bitten raw with hickeys shaped like little hearts. His mouth was kiss-swollen, glossy, and parted slightly as he leaned dizzily against the hallway wall, blinking at you like a drunk man seeing God.

“You’re so sexy,” you purr as you press against him, tracing the line of his jaw with your glossed-up finger. “I can’t help it, Raffy. You just exist and I go stupid.”

“I’m the one who’s gone stupid,” he breathes, voice breaking with a soft giggle as your kisses trail down his throat. “Pretty… crazy… wife, stealing my soul every hour on the hour like it’s your little job or something…”

And oh, you did treat it like a job. Like a full-time, salaried position with benefits and paid leave you’d never take. You’d strut around the estate in your little silk robe and thigh-high socks, looking every bit like a forbidden painting, before grabbing him by the shirt and dragging him off again with a wicked grin.

“You’re literally glowing,” you coo, nose brushing against his cheek as you admire your latest work, him. “Look at you. Covered in my kisses. I’m so proud. You’re such a good boy~”

“Nngh—” Raf’s knees buckle.

He slumps into your arms, completely pliant, like you’ve melted every one of his bones with love. His purple lashes flutter, and a dreamy pink tinge sits high on his cheeks.

“My beautiful wife thinks I’m sexy…” he whispers like he’s about to start sobbing. “I’m never recovering from this…”

You tug him close, letting him sink into your arms as you back into the bedroom again, for the fifth time this afternoon.

“Shhh, you don’t need to recover, raffy,” you whisper against his mouth. “You just need to lie back and let me show you how much I love your stupidly perfect body.”

The door clicks shut.

His palette stays untouched. His shirt stays halfway unbuttoned. And the only brush that sees use tonight… is the one tangled in your hair as he whines your name against the sheets, dizzy on your love.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Zayne was a mess.

Not in the way most people would ever see. Oh no, publicly, he was still Dr Zayne: the cold, composed, genius heart surgeon. Not a strand of black hair out of place, not a single button undone. Calm. Elegant. Untouchable.

But privately?

Privately he was currently standing in the master bedroom with his tie yanked loose, shirt unbuttoned halfway down, and covered in so many lipstick kisses it looked like you’d stamped him into a love letter.

He leaned one hand on the doorframe for balance, panting softly, collar tugged and wrinkled from where you’d dragged him inside yet again.

“…Sweetheart.” His voice was hoarse. “I have patients to check in on.”

“Nope,” you hummed, already circling him like a little spoiled lioness in silk and perfume. “You’re my patient now. And you’re staying in bed until I say you’re discharged.”

Zayne blinked slowly, like his brain was still buffering from your kisses. His tie slipped from his neck entirely. His hands were on your waist before he could even think.

“You’re addicted,” he murmured, but his voice was low and warm, full of amusement and just the slightest tremble of surrender.

“You’re the one who walks around this house in tight black shirts like a walking wet dream,” you purred, fingers tracing down his abs like he was sculpted marble. “I told you I married you for your body, doctor.”

“…You married me because I own five estates, pay your credit cards off before you even check them, and give you four-hour back massages when you throw tantrums.”

“And also because your V-line is actually life-ruining,” you whisper against his skin before planting yet another lipstick-stained kiss just above his waistband.

Zayne groaned softly. His eyes fluttered half-lidded as he let you press him back against the bed, his gorgeous, sharp-featured face already dazed. There were kiss marks on his hips now. On his collarbone. On the inside of his wrist where you bit down gently just to hear him exhale.

“You’re…unbelievable,” he muttered, voice cracking faintly as you straddled him.

“Mmhm.” You smiled sweetly. “But you love it.”

“…Unfortunately.”

He was so gone for you. Even as his toned arms lay limp against the pillows, even as his body was flushed and marked and glowing under the soft bedroom light, he still looked at you like he couldn’t believe he got to keep you.

And when you leaned down and whispered, “Gonna ride my sexy husband like it’s a sport,” Zayne swore under his breath, caught your hips, and dragged you down hard, like he wasn’t the one who needed a break from you.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Xavier didn’t know what time it was.

He was shirtless, breathless, and leaning against the plush velvet headboard like he’d just been gently murdered, his silver hair mussed beyond repair and his elegant neck covered in pink-gloss lip prints and fluttery love bites. The silk sheets were halfway down his waist, revealing the faintest trace of toned abs and flushed skin from yet another… session.

He blinked slowly as you crawled up his body again like a smug little kitten, still glowing, still in that ridiculous frilly negligee he’d bought you just to see you ruin it.

“Starlight…” His voice was low, dazed. “You pulled me in here… five times today.”

“Because you’re the prettiest thing in this entire penthouse,” you coo, kissing under his jaw. “And because I’m addicted to my beautiful husband. Do you want me to stop?”

His arms immediately wrap around your waist, possessive and needy even in his exhaustion.

“…No.”

You giggle and start kissing a new trail across his collarbone, admiring your work. His skin is pale and smooth, your lipstick imprinted all over him like you’d stamped him as your personal property.

He watches you with half-lidded, adoring blue eyes, high on your touch and murmuring things like:

“You’re insane…”

“You keep marking me like a wolf in heat…”

“…I love it.”

His long fingers trail up your thigh lazily, a soft smirk playing on his lips despite how flushed and breathless he is.

“You think I’m sexy?” he whispers, a little teasing, a little desperate.

You pause, eyes widening slightly like he just said the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard. You grab his face with both hands.

“Xavier,” you say, deadly serious. “I think you’re the sexiest man alive. I think you’re so hot it should be criminal. I think you were genetically engineered to ruin me.”

“…Okay.” He swallows. “I’m going to cry now.”

He actually does look like he might, his ears go a little pink and he hides his face in your neck, letting out a muffled groan as you stroke his silver hair and hum softly.

You’re not sure how long you lay there cuddling, but the second you so much as shift your hips,

He flips you under him.

“…One more,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “For science. For your addiction.”

And just like that, your sexy, sleepy, otherworldly husband is back in action, completely high on your love, his toned body shivering under your touch, whispering against your lips like a prayer:

“Keep calling me sexy. I’ll never get tired of it…”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

Sylus looked like he’d just walked off the cover of a scandalous magazine, shirt half open, silver hair tousled to hell, red eyes heavy-lidded and dazed, his pale skin littered in deep wine-colored love bites and obscene lipstick prints that trailed all the way from his collarbones down past his abs.

He sat back on the edge of the bed with a lazy smirk and a hand in his hair, exhaling a breathy little laugh like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

Again.

You were already crawling into his lap again.

“Kitty,” he murmured, amused. “I’ve got six missed calls. Three international meetings. A contract waiting to be signed. And here you are… pulling me back into bed for the fourth time in a row.”

“You look too good to ignore,” you say sweetly, arms looped around his neck. “Your body makes me feral, Sylus. You want me to just not jump you every hour? That’s unrealistic. Be serious.”

His eyes crinkle faintly with laughter, head tilting slightly as he studies you with that sharp, slow-burning gaze of his.

“You’re obsessed.”

You hum, nuzzling into his chest. “You made me like this. With your stupid abs. And that sexy little vein on your forearm. And your voice. And the way you look at me when you’re about to ruin my life.”

“Is that so?” His voice dips low, velvety and smug. “Because I’m the one covered in gloss and claw marks, kitten.”

He glances down at the state of himself, shirt wrinkled, belt unbuckled, skin decorated in possessive little reminders of your obsession, and lets out a pleased sound, like your addiction entertains him.

“You’ve been dragging me by the tie into the bedroom like a starving wife with a rich, sexy trophy husband,” he muses. “You want me that badly, huh?”

You climb into his lap fully, pressing a line of kisses up his throat.

“I want you all the time,” you whisper. “I want you spoiled, smug, and shirtless. I want you dizzy and wrecked and begging me not to kiss you again, and then still moaning when I do.”

He stares at you for a beat. Then lets out the lowest, filthiest chuckle.

“God, I love you.”

You grin as he pulls you down again, flat against the mattress, his hands already slipping under your silk slip.

And as he kisses you, slow, possessive, devastating, you feel him murmur against your lips with that teasing, breathy tone of his:

“Next time you drag me in here like that, at least let me close the damn door.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

Colonel Caleb was wrecked.

His dark brown hair was tousled from where you’d been tugging at it, his uniform shirt was halfway off, gold buttons undone and hanging off one shoulder, and his neck and chest were littered in bright pink lipstick kisses and faint purple bite marks. The top of his black undershirt was soaked in your gloss from where you’d kissed him through the fabric just to be dramatic.

He leaned heavily against the wall outside the bedroom, blinking like he’d just emerged from an oxygen-deprived fever dream.

You peeked your head around the corner, grinning sweetly.

“There you are!” you chimed, grabbing him by the collar. “Round five.”

Caleb flinched. Physically flinched. The collar of his once-pristine Fleet uniform was already stretched from being yanked on all day.

“Baby,” he said, voice hoarse and barely holding it together. “I can’t feel my legs. I, my whole body’s shaking. You’ve been dragging me back into the bedroom every hour like you’re on a mission.”

You beamed up at him with glossy lips and a wink. “That’s because I am. Operation: Ruin My Sexy Caleb.”

“…You need supervision,” he muttered, cheeks slightly flushed, glancing down at the mess you made of him.

“Mm-mm.” You tugged him close, palms flat against his bare chest. “What I need is your stupid hot body inside me again. You’re so big and strong and mean-looking but you fall apart the second I kiss your tummy, and it’s just so cute, I can’t stop.”

His entire body locked up.

“…Stop saying things like that with a straight face, Pips.”

You tilted your head innocently. “But it’s true. You’re my beautiful husband and I’m addicted to you. Look at you. All marked up and dizzy and mine.”

He tried to be grumpy, he really did. But the moment your fingers traced down his abs, his knees gave just slightly and he cursed under his breath.

“I was in a meeting,” he muttered. “Now I’m in your mouth.”

“You’re welcome.”

You grabbed him by the waistband, giggling like a spoiled brat dragging her favorite toy back to her castle. Caleb just sighed and followed, completely under your spell, his rough soldier hands already sliding around your waist.

“Y’know,” he murmured as you pushed him down onto the bed again, “when we first moved into this penthouse, I thought I was locking you up.”

You straddled him, planting another kiss on his cheek with a dramatic mwah and a fresh lipstick print.

“Oopsie. Looks like I’m the one keeping you in bed now, Colonel.”

“…Yeah.” His voice cracked softly. “And I love it.”

And with that, your big, scary Colonel husband, blushing and covered in kiss marks, let out a groan of surrender and let you ruin him all over again.

[tyrantisterror]

When I was 3 years old I went to a preschool that had this little green crocheted crocodile finger puppet that was my absolute favorite toy to play with of all time. I named her Chelsea, because Chelsea starts with C and crocodile starts with C and more often than not wild animals in fiction aimed at kids have names that start with the same first letter as their species. I played with Chelsea every day, because she was my favorite toy, and because the other kids weren't really interested in her, and also because I eventually started to hide her in a special secret spot in the room so no one else would find her before I did. She was so beloved by me that when I graduated from preschool, my teachers gave Chelsea to me permanently, because it was clear no one else would ever love that little crochet crocodile as much as me anyway (in part because I hid her). They waited a few weeks after I graduated before doing it, too, and sent Chelsea with some post cards as if the crocodile had been on a whirlwind "travel the world" vacation before deciding to come live with me.

And Chelsea remained my favorite toy all through my childhood. There were others I loved nearly as much, like my Imperial Godzilla and the big red T.rex from the first Jurassic Park toy line and my tiny knockoff plush Charmander, but Chelsea always held the place of honor in my heart. She was my absolute favorite toy.

I kept a lot of my favorite toys through adolescence, even if social pressure eventually got me to give away a lot of them (and some, y'know, broke). That's obviously not surprising to you if you've followed my blog, since I still collect toys into my adulthood. But it's important to note because while I know I made a conscious effort to never throw out Chelsea every time I pared down my collection... at some point, she went missing.

I became aware of it when I graduated from high school. I was feeling really emotional about leaving that stage of my life and, y'know, becoming an adult and shit, and in that state I decided to find Chelsea to reassure myself that I hadn't entirely left childhood behind. But Chelsea wasn't there. No matter how hard I looked, I could not find Chelsea anywhere.

And that was, like, devastating, because the only explanation was that somehow, at some point, I had accidentally tossed her out with some other "childhood junk" while trying to grow up and be responsible in my teen years. I had literally thrown away my childhood in a careless attempt to be more grown up.

Of course I knew she was just a toy - nothing more than some yarn twisted together in the loose shape of a crocodile, lifeless and soul-less and more or less worthless in the objective light of day. But she was also Chelsea, my best friend since i was three, my stalwart little pal, a source of comfort for most of my life at that point, and I had just... tossed her out! Like garbage! What kind of person was I becoming if I could do that to my best friend?

I was very visibly distraught, and my mom noticed. Being very crafty, she tried to find the pattern for Chelsea so she could crochet me a new one. The problem is, she had no idea where to find said pattern. She checked all her books of crochet patterns, and when that failed she tried the internet, but no matter how hard she looked, she found nothing.

So my mom found the next best thing.

The original Chelsea was a tiny finger puppet, and I had "met" her when I was three. Well, I was eighteen now - shouldn't Chelsea have grown too? And as has been established, this crocodile was fond of whirlwind vacations. My mom found a pattern that looked as much like Chelsea as possible while also being a much bigger crocodile, and gifted her to me before I left for college - to show that while we can't stop the flow of time or how it changes us, that doesn't mean we have to leave it behind.

And yeah, I decided to believe it. That's Chelsea now. Yeah, I know that in reality it's a completely different set of yarn made by my mom rather than... whoever it was that crocheted the original Chelsea, but then, Chelsea was never really the yarn. She was the feelings I put into the yarn, you know? So that's Chelsea, all grown up, and still my most prized toy.

...

Flash forward... Jesus, eighteen years, holy shit. A few weeks ago I saw a post trying to identify a different crochet crocodile pattern, and thinking it was cute, I decided to try and look for it on ebay and etsy, just to see if maybe I could find it. I didn't, but do you know what I found instead?

A very familiar crochet crocodile finger puppet. An intensely familiar one, you might say. Of course I bought it. And of course I asked the seller if, perhaps, they might have the pattern for it or know where it came from (they did not, alas). And after a few days, she showed up at my house.

She's not Chelsea, obviously. For one thing, she's far too clean and fresh looking - Chelsea was very well loved, and looked the part, while this crocodile finger puppet has definitely not endured years upon years of a child's affection. And, more importantly, she's not Chelsea because we've already established that Chelsea grew up into a bigger crochet crocodile. This has to be Chelsea's younger sister, Cici.

And if I could find another of Chelsea's kind after all these years, then maybe, with a bit of luck, I might find the pattern for her, and be able to make more of them. Fill the world with Chelseas.

[euno11a]

HEYYYYY SO I SAW YOU WAS DOING REQUESTS FOR KPOP DEMON HUNTERS

I loved the movie but the ending wasn’t what I was expecting and wanting😔

By any chance could you do the Saja boys in a poly relationship with reader? And separately the girls poly with reader?

I literally think it would be so much fun to have movie nights lmao and pull pranks on each other lmao😭💀

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ The “Current Boyfriend” prank on Jinu⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

———————————

Rehearsal had just ended, and the studio air was thick with leftover energy and heat. The mirrors were fogged, the sound system still humming with static, and Jinu—sweaty, flushed, and stunning—was casually sipping water near the doorway.

You pulled out your phone, pretending to check something. Really, you were framing the shot.

He looked over, brows raised. “Filming?”

You smiled. “Just something quick for the fans. Come here.”

He didn’t hesitate—just walked over, still catching his breath from that final run-through, his dark shirt clinging to his back. When he stood beside you, he leaned in slightly, effortlessly falling into idol mode: half-smile, perfect angle, soft gaze.

You started recording.

“Hey guys,” you said sweetly to the camera, smiling like it was any other fan update. “Just wanted to check in, rehearsal’s over—everyone’s tired, sweaty, gorgeous.”

You turned the camera slightly, panning over to Jinu.

“I’m here with my current boyfriend!”

You kept going like it was nothing, turning the camera back to yourself. “Anyway, we’re probably gonna grab food and chill for a bit—”

Behind you, Jinu tilted his head slightly.

“…What?”

You stopped.

“…What?” you echoed innocently, still filming.

He squinted. “Did you just say current boyfriend?”

You bit back a smile. “Yeah. Like, my boyfriend right now. In this moment.”

His eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in that dangerous, calm way Jinu did when he was calculating whether to flirt with you or mildly destroy your entire soul.

“You’ve had others lined up?”

You laughed, finally breaking. “It’s a trend! I was joking!”

He took the phone gently, still in frame, still smiling for the camera like nothing was wrong—but the glint in his eye had shifted.

“You heard her,” he said to the camera. “Apparently, I’m just a placeholder.”

“Jinu—”

He leaned in, eyes never leaving the lens.

“Just so everyone’s clear, I’m not going anywhere. So if I’m the ‘current,’ I plan on being the permanent upgrade.”

He stopped recording.

You stared at him.

“Babe, it was a trend—”

He handed your phone back with a knowing smile. “Post it.”

“…You’re not mad?”

“No,” he said smoothly, grabbing his bag. “But you’re paying for dinner.”

————————————————

@ sajaboysimps: “Current boyfriend” and he paused like a villain origin story. 😭😭😭

@ jinusjawline: She: “I’m with my current boyfriend!” Jinu: 🧍‍♂️❓

@ idolatemyheart: When he said “permanent upgrade” I blacked out.

@ softlaunchgonewrong: The way she kept talking like he wasn’t recalculating the entire relationship 💀💀💀

@ kpopdemonkween: Jinu really said “I’m calm but I will become your husband if you keep playing.” 💍🕶️

———————————

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ The “i forgot our anniversary ” prank on Baby⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You had one goal: crack Baby’s fake-cool exterior.

The date was circled on your calendar in pink highlighter and glittery hearts — today marked your six months together. A fact you hadn’t forgotten. Not even close. You had the gift hidden, dinner planned, and a playlist queued.

But he didn’t know that.

So naturally… you decided to mess with him.

You strolled into the practice room like it was any other day, sipping your drink, phone in hand. Baby was lounging in a chair, jacket off, tank top on, towel draped around his neck. Hair tousled. Glistening post-workout glow. Casual heartthrob chaos.

“Hey,” he said, smiling without meaning to — one of those real ones, the rare kind.

“Hey,” you replied, completely flat. You sat beside him, scrolling through your phone. “Long day.”

He blinked. “Uh… yeah. Kinda.”

Silence.

He waited.

You offered him a sip of your drink. No affection. No flirt. No sparkle.

He narrowed his eyes. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm.”

He leaned in slightly. “You sure? You're being weird.”

You shrugged. “I’m fine.”

You saw it hit him — subtle but real. A flicker of confusion in his eyes. He looked away, biting the inside of his cheek like he was trying to solve a math equation with emotions.

Then… his voice dropped, quieter.

“Did I… do something?”

You glanced at him, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, then reached into his jacket pocket — pulling out a tiny velvet box.

Your breath caught. Wait what.

He opened it slowly: a simple silver ring on a thin chain.

“I know we said we weren’t doing anything big for the six-month thing,” he said, eyes still down, “but I just… I saw this and thought of you. You like little things that feel permanent.”

Your mouth parted, guilt instantly slamming you in the chest.

He looked up. “Unless… you didn’t remember. Which is fine, seriously. I didn’t expect—"

“Wait, wait, wait—” you cut in, grabbing his hand. “It’s a prank. It was a prank. I remembered. I super remembered.”

His eyes widened. “You what.”

“I was trying to get a reaction out of you,” you admitted, laughing nervously. “You always play it so cool. I thought you’d be smug and say something like, ‘Guess who didn’t forget?’ and then I’d laugh and reveal the real gift and—oh my god you bought me jewelry.”

He stared at you. “You absolute gremlin.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out a box of your own, practically shoving it into his chest. “Here. Yours. Real. Not a prank.”

He opened it to find a silver bracelet, etched with the coordinates of where you first met.

He blinked slowly.

“…You’re disgusting,” he said, voice soft.

“You love it.”

He exhaled hard — then, finally, smiled for real. That wide, boyish grin he tried to hide behind eyeliner and sarcasm. His ears were bright red.

“You seriously had me spiraling,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Because you’re soft,” you teased.

He shot you a look. “No, I’m cool. I’m smooth. I’m mysterious.”

“You were ten seconds from emotional collapse.”

He leaned closer, bumping his forehead to yours. “And you love that.”

You smiled, lips brushing his. “I really do.”

——————————

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ The “Tiny Meal” prank on Romance⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the paper screens of the dorm room, painting golden lines across the hardwood floor. The air was still, save for the slow, even breaths of Romance beside you—hair mussed from sleep, lashes casting gentle shadows over his cheekbones.

You tiptoed out of the futon with the kind of stealth usually reserved for a trained demon hunter. You had a plan. A dumb, tiny, hilarious plan. But it was your plan, and you knew he’d either love it… or mock you for it for weeks.

You tiptoed into the kitchen, stifling a giggle. On the counter: a thimble-sized teacup. A miniature plate. A fork no bigger than your pinky nail. It had taken you a whole hour to prep these ridiculous little dishes the night before. A tiny egg (quail, of course), a single bite of toast, and a speck of strawberry jam.

All perfectly arranged on the world’s tiniest breakfast tray.

As you walked back into the room balancing the tray, you heard the soft shuffle of sheets. His voice, low and drowsy, called out:

"Mmnh... [Your Name]? Where’d you go…?"

You knelt beside the futon, holding out the tiny tray like a prize. “Good morning, sunshine,” you said, biting back a grin. “I made you breakfast.”

He blinked sleepily, then squinted at the tray. A beat of silence. Then—

“…What the hell is that?” His voice cracked mid-laugh.

You giggled. “Your morning meal, brave hunter. Protein, carbs, love. All in one centimeter.”

He sat up, the blanket falling to his lap, revealing the curve of his collarbone and the sleepy slope of his shoulders. Hair sticking up wildly, he reached out one elegant finger to poke the mini toast.

“This is… is this even edible?”

You nodded solemnly. “I toasted that piece with my own hands. Used tweezers.”

A wide grin broke across his face. That lazy, lopsided one that always made your stomach flip. “You’re unbelievable.”

Then, with exaggerated seriousness, he picked up the miniature fork between his thumb and forefinger, tried to stab the tiny egg—and immediately dropped it back onto the tray.

“I can’t do this. I’m going to starve.”

You smirked, reaching behind you and pulling out a second tray—the real breakfast, full-sized and warm.

He laughed so hard he had to bury his face in your neck. “You’re evil,” he mumbled against your skin, arms wrapping around your waist.

“You love it,” you teased, letting your fingers slide through his hair.

He leaned back to look at you, his eyes still crinkled with laughter but softening into something tender. “I really do.”

And then, with the tiniest fork in hand, he fed you the equally tiny toast piece.

“For love. And carbs,” he whispered dramatically

———————————

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ The “ignoring my boyfriend” prank on Mystery⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The moment you stepped into the training room, you could feel his eyes on you.

Mystery was already there, like always — perched casually on the window ledge, his black hoodie draped over his shoulder, sword leaning against the wall behind him. His arms were crossed, expression unreadable. He didn’t speak. He never did first.

Perfect.

You walked right past him without a word.

He watched you. Silent. Still. Barely blinking.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling with exaggerated focus. Inside, you were screaming. You knew he hated being ignored. Not in the way a normal boyfriend might pout or whine — no, Mystery just went quiet. Colder. Like ice packing itself around him.

It was part of why the prank was so fun... and a little dangerous.

He finally moved. Just one step.

“Did I do something?” he asked, voice low and distant, like a fog rolling across a lake.

You didn’t look up. Instead, you texted no one. Blinked blankly at the wall. Bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from cracking.

A long pause.

He tilted his head slightly, jaw tight. “...You’re not going to speak to me?”

You didn’t respond. Not even a shrug.

He stared at you for a few seconds longer. Then without a word, he turned and walked out of the room. No sound, no heavy footsteps — just vanished like smoke into the hall.

Your heart dropped.

“Mystery—!” you called after him, breaking character. You chased him down the corridor, nearly stumbling over your own feet.

You found him just outside the practice hall, his back to you, eyes shadowed under his bangs.

“I was joking!” you said breathlessly. “It was a prank. The ‘ignoring my boyfriend’ prank. You weren’t actually—wait, were you mad?”

He turned slowly, expression as calm as ever. But there was something just behind it — not anger, not even hurt, but a kind of distance. The kind that made your chest tighten.

“I wasn’t mad,” he said quietly. “I just figured you wanted space. So I gave it to you.”

Oof.

You stepped closer, reaching for his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just thought it’d be funny. You’re always so… unreadable. I wanted to see if you’d crack.”

His lips twitched — the smallest hint of a smirk. “So you were testing me?”

“Maybe a little.”

He finally turned to face you fully. “You didn’t get much of a reaction.”

“No,” you admitted. “But somehow, that made it worse.”

He stepped into your space, his voice a soft hush. “You want a reaction now?”

You nodded, breath catching.

Without warning, his hand cupped your chin gently, tilting your face toward his. His lips brushed yours, light as falling ash — but the intent behind it was unmistakable. Intense. Possessive in that quiet way only Mystery could pull off.

He pulled back just enough to whisper:

“Don’t ignore me again. I don’t like it.”

You blinked up at him, stunned.

Then he added, deadpan: “But if you do… make sure the next prank includes kissing.”

—————————

˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ The “I don’t think I like muscles anymore” prank on Abs⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

a/n: I just added the rest of the Saja Boys!!

[jehadkhaled]

Help my family in Gaza, I'm begging you 💔‼️🙏

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #523)

✅️ Vetted by @90-ghos here

Dear merciful souls before everything I'm now writing to you and my kids are so hungry we don't know what to eat because everything running out and the cross borders were closed for three months so please read my story to the end 🥺🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

Hello, I am full of hope and hope that you will read my message with love and that you will enjoy abundant health and well-being.

I come to you with an appeal that is heavy on my heart and that I had never imagined.

I look at you from under the war and the constant bombing of us in all its forms that the human or animal soul cannot comprehend

I am Jehad Kassab , a lawyer and legal consultant from Gaza City - Palestine. I hold a bachelor’s degree in law and many legal experiences. I have been working in the legal profession for a long time and I had a good work , which have become meaningless before this world, to stop the machine of war and destruction that has befallen us ،I had a private law office after the Israeli planes completely destroyed it and everything in it, after I built it with all its beauty after many years of toil, and it is my only source of livelihood.

I have a beautiful family that loves life as you love it and lives it in all its details. My family consists of (my wife, a nurse, and my son Khaled, a year and a half old, who has not seen life in all its details and does not know what it is yet, and my second daughter is now 11 months her age as the age of this bad war.

Our house was completely destroyed at the beginning of the war on Gaza with everything, and we did not even take anything out of it, not even the clothes, in the hope that we would return to it before it was bombed by Israeli warplanes

We were briefly displaced to southern Gaza and stayed in tents until this moment. We lived and are still living the harshest types of genocide in the full sense of the word: displacement, destruction, coming out from under bombardment, pollution, epidemics, and the difficulty of sleeping due to the sound of planes and the bombing that did not leave for a single second. Has the world become desolate or are we not fit to improve? For life or what? We do not know Khaled who started pronouncing the word bombing, and I am afraid.

I am not begging you or listing all the details, because an entire newspaper will not be enough. Television screens and social networking sites are enough to tell you about us, and no matter how much you try to say, what we feel will not reach you because we do not wish anyone to live as we live.

We are victims of conflicts and conflicts. We love life as long as we can. We do not like any form of war. We want a future like the rest of humanity for ourselves and our children.

In this moment of despair, I reach out to you, not just as a stranger, but as a human being, connected by our common humanity and the belief that compassion knows no bounds. Your support, no matter how small, can make an immeasurable difference in the lives of those struggling to find hope amidst the rubble.

We desperately need your support to rebuild my family's life that was destroyed by the war on Gaza and there is literally nothing left ، provide us with a glimmer of hope for a better life after we were fine before October 7th last year. Your support could mean everything to us ، If you are unable to support, please consider sharing our case. Every bit of support helps.

We also evacuated many times and the two baby were sick alot because of the bad environment

and you know there's no hospitals or medicin or even healthy food

and the rest of the.money will be used for the living expenses

We appreciate your help, even if it is just a little

Thank you all

You can share or donate this ‼️🙏🥺

Or here directly

[solxamber]

Want You Back with: Housewardens

Where they're still in love with you.

Riddle Rosehearts

After the breakup, Riddle acted like he'd read somewhere that repressing emotion was a perfectly valid coping mechanism. Which, to be fair, he probably had. And so he embarked on what could only be described as a grief management routine so structured and detail-oriented that you almost had to respect it.

First came the part where he behaved like nothing had happened.

He went about his day with all the usual pomp—collaring students, citing arcane dorm rules, and drinking his tea as usual.

If anyone brought you up (on purpose or by accident), he would simply blink, nod, and go back to arranging sugar cubes in a perfect geometric formation. "We are no longer together," he would say, as if it were an administrative change and not, say, a soul-crushing emotional catastrophe.

Then came the coincidences.

He began showing up in places he absolutely did not frequent before. The café you liked? Suddenly, he was a regular. The library on Thursday evenings? There. The very hallway outside your class despite Heartslabyul being on the opposite side of campus? Oh yes. There too. And every time you spotted him lurking (because that was the only word for it), he would give a startled little blink, like you were the surprise.

"Oh. I didn't see you there," he said, the fourth time in a week.

You stared at him from behind your drink. "I've been sitting here for thirty minutes."

"Well," he muttered, "public seating is for everyone."

By week two, he began inventing reasons to talk to you. Weird ones.

He approached you one day, armed with a rulebook and what looked like three sticky notes marking battle locations.

"According to Queen of Hearts rule 42," he said, clearly having practiced this in front of a mirror, "ex-partners must return borrowed items within twelve days."

You blinked. "You lent me a pencil."

"It was part of a set," he snapped, scandalized.

You told him you'll give it back and he looked like someone slapped him.

You thought that might be the end of it. But then, course, it escalated.

He showed up at your door one evening with a paper in his hand. A list. A physical list. Titled, in absolutely unnecessary cursive, "A Non-Exhaustive Record of My Missteps."

"It's not meant to change anything," he said stiffly, not quite looking at you. "Only to… acknowledge."

There were bullet points. Short, awkward, and occasionally baffling.

Should not have critiqued your sock choice in front of your friends.

I apologize for saying 'emotional outbursts are not strategic.' That was, in hindsight, a poor choice of words.

You are allowed to eat dessert before dinner. Even if it is cherry pie.

I realize now that asking if we could schedule arguments during free periods was not romantic.

I should have asked you to stay.

You didn't know what to do with it—him. He was so Riddle about everything. Polite. Procedural. Very slightly insane. But under all the awkward attempts at regulation and paperwork, it was clear he missed you. Badly.

And the truth was, you still hadn't returned the matching pencil.

You kept it. Not because you believed in fate or romance or even well-meaning tyrants who quoted rulebooks like love poems—but because part of you thought, maybe, if he was willing to be just a little more flexible, there might be a version of this that could work.

And you hoped it could.

Leona Kingscholar

After the breakup, Leona made it his personal mission to convince the entire world—Ruggie, his dorm, the mirror in his room, the literal wildlife outside—that he did not care.

He went around saying things like, "Tch. Good riddance," and "Like I got time to babysit someone who cries over movies," even though no one had brought you up. He slept more. Talked less. Got moodier, which no one thought was possible until he started growling at actual potted plants for existing near his nap spots.

Whenever Ruggie so much as hinted at your name—usually while dancing around some scheduling conflict or trying to explain why Leona's mood had tanked again—he'd get cut off mid-word.

"I wasn't even talking about them!" Ruggie would complain.

"Then stop thinking about them so loud," Leona snapped, face buried in the crook of his arm like the concept of you physically hurt his eyes.

But of course, the moment your name stopped being brought up, that became a problem too.

He started acting restless. Less asleep all the time and more awake and clearly trying to look like he's not looking around for someone. He'd frown when someone laughed in the hallway, then look annoyed when it wasn't you. He started showing up to classes he normally skipped, sitting in the back with his legs stretched out and arms crossed like he was doing the entire school a favor just by existing in the room.

And then the things started appearing.

First, it was his jacket—left casually across the back of your desk chair, like maybe gravity had just pulled it there on accident. Then his spellbook, shoved between your textbooks in a way that definitely required premeditated effort. Then a sandwich. An entire sandwich, wrapped up and labeled "Not Yours."

He denied all of it, obviously.

"Must've been Ruggie," he said, regarding the jacket that literally smelled like him.

When confronted about the book: "I don't even read, what're you talking about."

As for the sandwich? "You're imagining things. I didn't make that for you."

By that point, no one believed him—not even himself.

The final blow came in the form of a confrontation you hadn't expected. Late evening, when you were walking back to your dorm from the library. You were alone, or you thought you were, until you turned the corner and found him there—half in shadow, arms crossed, gaze trained somewhere just over your shoulder.

He didn't say hello.

Didn't say anything actually.

Just let the silence stretch until it started fraying at the edges, and then muttered, voice low and rough:

"You still want this, don't you?"

You stared at him. He didn't flinch, but you could tell he wanted to. He held himself like someone who didn't expect the answer to be yes, but still desperately needed to hear it before he gave up entirely.

And you realized somewhere between the jacket, the sandwich, and the way his voice cracked at the end of the sentence—that for all his snarling and attitude, he never stopped loving you.

He just didn't know how to ask you to stay without sounding like he might actually need you.

Which, of course, he did. Not that he'd ever say it out loud.

Not yet, anyway.

But the next time he leaves something behind, you think you might return it in person. Maybe even stay awhile.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul handled the breakup the only way he knew how: with spreadsheets, surveillance footage, and a truly unhealthy amount of denial.

He claimed to be fine, of course. Said it with a straight face while color-coding inventory spreadsheets and inputting customer satisfaction data at four in the morning like a man unburdened by heartbreak. But when the tweels found the Lounge security footage paused—again—on a scene of you laughing near the bar, they stopped asking.

He'd memorized the timestamp.

And no, he didn't want to talk about it.

Azul had always been prone to spiraling in a unique way. After the breakup, that tendency mutated into something truly concerning. He didn't cry. He didn't wallow. Instead, he opened a blank document and began calculating. How many hours you'd spent together. How often you laughed in his presence. What the average rate of eye contact was in happy couples versus yours. There were charts. Graphs. Some kind of weighted affection index.

Unfortunately, Jade opened the file looking for the March sales report and instead found a document titled:

"Projected Probability of Them Still Loving Me (v6)."

He would not let him live it down.

"Idea," Floyd said. "You wanna run those numbers again but include the variable where you're super pathetic lately?"

Even Jade raised an eyebrow. "The correlation between desperation and appeal might not be as linear as you'd hope."

Azul tried to brush them off. He even lied (very badly) about what the spreadsheet was for ("Just… tax optimization. Personal hobby. Totally normal."), but the damage was done. The eels were smug. He was mortified. And worst of all, he still couldn't stop thinking about you.

So he pivoted.

If direct emotional vulnerability had failed him, perhaps passive-aggressive marketing would do the trick.

You started receiving coupons. Neatly folded, hand-delivered, no return address—but you recognized the ink. And the handwriting. And the aggressively formal tone that somehow still managed to sound like begging.

"One (1) free drink of your choice at the Mostro Lounge. Offer valid for exes statistically proven to be an optimal match."

Another read:

"Your preferred drink has been discontinued. Kidding. Please come back."

And your personal favorite:

"A reminder that our pairing was 94.3% ideal. Come back. For research."

You didn't respond. He didn't expect you to. But every week, a new coupon showed up—some increasingly ridiculous, some borderline romantic, all of them signed with that same flourish he used when pretending he wasn't panicking.

You weren't sure if it was pathetic or endearing. Probably both. The coupons had piled up in a drawer now, next to a coaster you never returned and a little napkin with a sketch he once made of you during a slow night.

You told yourself it was nostalgia. Curiosity. Scientific inquiry, if anything.

And one slow afternoon, you found yourself digging through the drawer, smoothing out the least crumpled coupon, and thinking—just for a moment—that you might stop by.

For research. Obviously.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim took the breakup as well as someone who had never actually took a negative emotion in his life to heart could. Which was to say: terribly.

He cried. A lot. At first, it was appropriate—private tears, sniffles in the dorm room, a distant gaze over his drink. But then it started happening at other times. Like during an ad for laundry detergent where the happy couple folded towels together. Or during a weather report where the forecast mentioned rain, which, apparently, you once said made you sleepy. Or during absolutely nothing at all, except that the sun was setting "a little too much like that one day you held his hand, remember?"

He insisted he was fine.

"Totally fine!" he chirped, voice three octaves higher than normal, eyes red-rimmed and suspiciously glossy. "Breakups happen all the time, right? We're both growing and learning! It's healthy!"

No one believed him.

Jamil looked like he was considering reporting you to the disciplinary committee just to end Kalim's reign of emotionally unhinged sunshine. Even Grim asked if someone should "turn him off and back on again."

But Kalim doubled down. If he couldn't be fine naturally, he'd brute-force his way into happiness. Which, in his mind, meant: throwing parties. So many parties. For no reason. His calendar suddenly became a horror show of "themed celebration nights" and "spontaneous joy hours," all of which were weirdly tailored around your favorite things.

"Here!" he said brightly, handing out goodie bags. "Everyone gets this specific brand of chocolates and stickers! Because those are just objectively fun! Not because anyone used to love them or anything!"

It was transparent. Alarmingly so.

Even when he gave someone a little clay charm that looked exactly like the one you wore on your bag, Kalim waved it off with a too-wide smile. "Just spreading the joy! It's important to stay positive, right?"

Everyone knew it was a cry for help. The kind that sounded like party poppers and glitter and repressed sobbing in the school gardens.

The turning point came on a quiet afternoon when he showed up at your door holding a tiny cupcake. It had a frosting heart on it. His hands shook slightly.

"I know this is weird," he said, already teary. "I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable. I just—"

He swallowed, voice cracking like something inside him was giving up the act for good.

"Even if you don't love me again," he said, "can we still be something?"

You looked at him—his earnest eyes, his trembling lower lip—and you felt something soft and painfully familiar unfurl in your chest.

Because Kalim didn't know how to lie to the people he loved. Not well. Not really. He was all impulse and heart, the kind of boy who loved too loud and too fast and never quite knew how to stop once he started.

And maybe you weren't ready to be what you were. Not yet.

But looking at him, at the little cupcake with the slightly smudged heart and the the way he was holding it like he might shatter if you didn't take it—

How could you say no?

You took the cupcake. And maybe his hand, too. Just for a moment. Just to see if something could still bloom.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil did not mourn the breakup. Mourning was for people who couldn't maintain composure under pressure. For people who let emotion smudge their mascara. He was not one of those people.

At least, not publicly.

He was flawless. Unbothered. The exact picture of someone thriving post-relationship, thank you very much. His interviews were polished. His smiles were poised. His posture was impeccable. If anyone noticed that his usual acerbic wit had gone curiously blunt, no one said anything.

They wouldn't dare.

Privately, though, when the cameras were off and the spotlight blinked out, Vil cracked in very small ways.

He started using your favorite perfume. A subtle layer, never enough to be obvious, but just enough to make him feel like you were still somewhere in the room. Like maybe if he breathed in deep enough, he could hold onto something.

He flipped through magazines during lunch breaks, claiming it was for "market research." But every time he lingered on a movie review or a lifestyle spread, it was with the faint, ridiculous hope that you'd read it too. That your fingers might have touched the same paper. That your eyes caught the same line he was rereading for the fifth time.

He knew it was foolish. But Vil had always been prone to beautiful illusions. It was sort of his thing.

The unraveling came, ironically, in the most public of places: a toothpaste commercial.

He was halfway through filming, mid-speech about the importance of a radiant smile, when something in the script triggered a memory—something you once said about how his laugh.

He kept talking.

Kept improvising.

Went off-script entirely.

The crew let him go for a minute—Vil was known for his "emotional depth," after all—but when he hit the line "even the most polished smile can still ache when it remembers someone who made it feel real," the director had to call cut.

"Vil," they said gently. "It's a toothpaste commercial."

He didn't speak for the rest of the shoot. Just touched up his own makeup in silence, eyes a little glassy.

It took him another week to knock on your door.

He showed up in a soft sweater, smelling faintly of something familiar, holding his own hands like he didn't know what else to do with them.

He didn't ask for much. Didn't ask for forever. Just quietly, cautiously:

"Would you like to try again?"

And you thought—looking at him, at the person who once swore he'd never show up like this for anyone, at the vulnerability hiding under all that polish—

Maybe this time, you could make it work.

Idia Shroud

Idia handled the breakup the way he handled most things in life: with a complete and total digital meltdown, buried under forty layers of denial and an emotionally scorched Discord server.

He didn't text. Didn't call. Didn't even leave passive-aggressive emoji reactions on your old posts like a normal ex with unresolved feelings. He simply… disappeared.

Vanished like a ghost into his room, into his code, into the vast and uncaring expanse of the internet, where feelings didn't exist unless they were typed in all caps or conveyed through a crying anime girl gif.

And for a while, it was total radio silence.

Until you logged into that game.

The shared one. The one you used to play together after class, where the two of you ran a little shop in a pixelated fantasy village and spent an embarrassing amount of time farming digital potatoes.

Your shop was still there.

But now there was… a shrine.

Your character's pixel art face, recreated painstakingly in custom tiles and surrounded by in-game flowers, torches, and glowing pink mood crystals that did not exist in the vanilla version of the game.

He'd modded it.

There was a sign in the middle that just said:

"Here Lies Happiness (RIP)"

You stared at it for a long time. Then, just to confirm the ridiculous suspicion building in your chest, you checked the nearby player list.

Sure enough, his username had changed too:

"SadBoy420"

Online. Loitering.

You didn't message him immediately. Mostly because you weren't sure what to say to someone who had quite literally built a shrine to your relationship in a farming sim. But still—you lingered. Logged in more often. Left offerings of rare items near the shrine like it was some strange, silent conversation.

Idia never spoke to you directly, but you noticed the shrine changed a little every day. One day it had a sign that said "I'm Fine." The next, it was replaced with a drawing of your characters fishing together. One morning it was just a massive, pixel-art rendition of the word "SORRY" in bold letters with a sad face emoji.

Outside the game, his silence continued.

But Ortho?

Ortho was not subtle.

"Did you know my brother has been listening to the voicemails you left him on loop for the past 72 hours?" he chirped once in the cafeteria. "Not that he's, like, sad or anything! Just nostalgic. Definitely not crying."

Later: "He made your favorite NPC in our custom server the town mayor! Isn't that cute? I mean, objectively, not emotionally, haha."

Eventually, you got the call.

Your phone lit up with his name and you answered before you could talk yourself out of it.

"Uh—hey," Idia said, voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't, like, mean to call. Or—I did, but. Crap. Okay. Hi."

You waited.

He took a breath.

"I was just wondering," he said, "if you maybe wanted to talk again. Or, y'know. Game. No pressure or anything. It's fine if you're, like, over it and I'm just like a pathetic ghost haunting your social life, haha, classic tragic NPC vibes—"

"Yes," you said, before he could spiral into apologizing for existing.

He paused. Long enough that you thought the call had dropped. Then, quietly—hopeful, almost disbelieving:

"Wait. Really?"

You smiled, even if he couldn't see it.

"Yeah," you said. "Log in."

Malleus Draconia

Malleus did not understand how something so radiant could simply… end.

He didn't throw a dramatic tantrum after the breakup. He didn't disappear in a swirl of thunderclouds or curse the moon or anything out of a tragic love story.

He didn't so much as frown in public, because the full gravity of the breakup hadn't quite hit him yet. Instead, it settled in stranger places—quiet things, strange habits.

Like how he started speaking to the plush bat you gave him on his last birthday as though it were you. Not in a creepy way, more like someone who didn't know what to do with the empty space you left behind.

He asked it questions. Told it how his day went. Laughed, sometimes, as if it had told him a joke—low and fond, the kind of laugh only you had ever coaxed out of him. And when he sat beneath the stars, plush cradled carefully in his lap, he whispered to it with a gentleness reserved only for the lost.

The gargoyles? They weren't even sentient, but even they seemed exhausted. Every night he stood in front of them, musing out loud about the way you smiled or how you always called him weird little nicknames. One of them lost a nose—maybe unrelated.

Lilia, bless him, said nothing for a long while. He simply watched as Malleus wilted, quietly and beautifully, like a flower sealed in ice. But one evening, after Malleus asked in the softest voice, "Do humans ever come back when they leave?", Lilia did not answer. He only wrapped his arms around his ward and held him close.

At some point, he started writing letters. Not to send, just… to say things. Things he didn't know how to tell you, or hadn't said enough when he could. Some were serious. Some were barely legible thoughts written in the middle of the night. But he kept them all, folded neatly in a box that lived under his bed.

And then, of course, Silver found the box.

Silver, ever helpful and half-asleep, assumed it was mail Malleus meant to send and delivered the whole thing to your dorm like it was completely normal to get a hand-bound novel of unsent love letters dropped off on a random day.

You read them all.

You didn't say anything at first. You weren't sure what you were supposed to say. But that night, you left your window open—just a little.

And sure enough, just past midnight, Malleus appeared outside your dorm. Just… standing there. Looking up.

He didn't ask to come in. He didn't even call your name. He just waited. Like maybe you'd hear the quiet, and somehow understand.

And when you finally stepped outside, he looked at you like he'd been waiting centuries.

"May I court you again?" he asked softly. "From the beginning."

And really… how could you say no?

Masterlist

[gimmethatagustd]

paint me naked | jjk

After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he’s not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (past Taehyung)

Rating: Explicit

Genre/Trope: College AU, friends to lovers, fluff, smut, light angst

Word Count: 17,025

Content Warning: Self-esteem issues, alcohol, marijuana (of course, it's a jai fic), brief mention of drug dealing, it's very "hehe I have a crush" y'know, kinda YA of me jshdfks rip, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, can you tell I was a depressed poetry student in college??

A/N: This ended up being my most popular fic back in the day (lol like a year ago). I'm ngl, I don't think of it as highly as I do the other fics I've written, but this was I think the second fic I ever wrote?? Back in 2022. Crazy times. So y'know, growth and whateva. The funniest part is that probs 85% of this fic literally happened to me sjdfks. Except the "Jungkook" was only my friend and we just got stoned and vibed, and instead of painting a naked woman, one time during our studio sessions he painted an abstract rendition of my "soul" but it really just looked like a thumb I'm ngl. All my friends said he was in love with me cuz who paints portraits of someone's soul??

Soundtrack: Paint Me Naked - Ten

“Jungkook, I don’t think this is gonna work.”

“Let me try.” 

Your eyes strained to see the boy standing in front of you, but the room was pitch black. It was good, though. You’d purposefully blocked out as much light as you possibly could. It had been a surprisingly difficult feat, mostly because the two of you hadn’t thought this through very well. A rolled up towel was shoved against the bottom of the bedroom door to keep the light from the hallway out. Blackout curtains had already been drawn over the windows when you got there, so that made the window problem easier. Luckily, you’d remembered to unplug the digital clock sitting on the nightstand next to the bed, the last piece of light you could have some control over putting out. 

To make things weirder, you were in Jungkook’s parents’ room. 

“It’s the darkest room in the house!” he’d insisted and you hadn’t objected because, well, it seemed on brand for the way the entire night was going. 

With arms stretched out, your fingers pressed into something bumpy and hard. You could hear Jungkook’s breathing beside you and a light laugh alerted to you that he was much closer than you’d initially thought. After a quick prod, fingers gliding slightly upward, you realized you were grabbing his abdomen. The hard ripples you’d felt were his toned abs beneath his thin t-shirt. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, though there was no need to be quiet. Jungkook’s hands wrapped around yours and took the objects you had clutched between them: scissors and an undeveloped film roll. 

Drawing your hands back to your side, you waited in silence. The sound of metal scraping against plastic was the only sound in the room aside from the quiet rustle of wind blowing through leaves outside. You don’t think you’d ever felt silence before until that moment. It was electric, a pulsing sizzle that sparked up your fingertips and jolted into your heart as you stood beside Jungkook. The harmony your breathing had fallen into made the moment feel far more intimate than you’d expected. Why was standing in the dark with someone so intimate? 

��Fuck,” Jungkook muttered, and you heard what you imagined was him stabbing the scissors into the film. 

“Oh my god, please don’t cut yourself, okay? I don’t know where the hospital is from here.”

His only response was another quiet laugh and you knew from the sound that his nose was doing that scrunched up thing that it always did when he was making fun of you. After only a few months of knowing Jungkook he was certainly very comfortable teasing you. He was pretty comfortable with you in general, you were beginning to realize. 

And why were you here? Standing in the dark with a boy you barely knew from a shared university class, one who towered over you in height as well as being much larger than you physically. Trying to pop open film because Jungkook somehow thought you could actually develop this film without having access to a real darkroom. Sure, all throughout high school you’d taken film photography classes. You had the development process memorized by heart, from the length of time the film needed to soak to the different types of chemicals needed and what order you were supposed to submerge the prints in. You’d even emailed your old high school teacher to double check. 

But doing all of that in Jungkook’s parents’ house? You knew it wasn’t going to work, but the guy had insisted on you helping him. Was it concerning that he had all these chemicals stored in a plastic tub in his closet? Maybe. And was it the safest decision to use scissors to pop open the film instead of the proper tool (which Jungkook had forgotten to order off of Amazon in advance)? Absolutely not. 

On top of that, no one knew where you were; you’d simply told your roommates that you were going to hang out with the guy from your university poetry class. 

“Jungkook? The weird one with all the tattoos and piercings?” Your roommate, Amiriah, had asked.  

“He’s not that weird.” 

“Y/N, he wrote a poem about eating pussy for a class assignment. You said so yourself. Please tell me how that’s a normal thing to do.” 

“And didn’t he have to read it outloud to the class because he turned it in late?” Now it was time for Courtney to pipe in from her position lounging on the couch, an episode of Love Connection paused on the TV screen. 

“Okay, yes, he did do both those things. But I swear he’s actually really sweet. He’s just misunderstood.” 

Courtney had launched a pillow at you, though the object zoomed past your head and landed against the refrigerator, knocking down multiple of Amiriah’s magnets. Much to her dismay. 

“Maybe we should take a break.” 

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to reality, or at least some semblance of it. You couldn’t understand how someone could have such a soft voice. Listening to Jungkook speak was like floating on a cloud. His cadence was a gentle caress against your skin, a sound that could easily flutter your eyes and lull you to sleep. It didn’t matter what he was saying; everything sounded better coming from Jungkook’s mouth. 

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you. A few moments and a bit of shuffling later, the lights sprung on. Your eyes instantly shut and slowly pried open again from the blaring brightness. 

The poor film looked like it had been mauled by a bear, but it was still somehow intact. Jungkook slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping and turned to look at you. He had this thing about eye contact that really made you uncomfortable. When he met your gaze, he looked straight into your eyes, as if he was looking into you rather than at you. 

“Do you want a drink?” 

His question caught you off guard, but he was already picking up the towel from the floor to open the bedroom door. Without answering, you followed him through the house and into the kitchen. You stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of you, eyes following his large frame navigating the kitchen cabinets. 

“All my parents have is rosé, is that okay?” 

He uncorked the chilled bottle and poured each of you a glass. Then he did something that your roommates could add to the list of weird things they’d developed for him. 

He sat on the floor. 

You stared at him with your lips slightly parted, unsure if you were supposed to follow him. There was an entire kitchen table with multiple chairs. Why was he sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the doorframe? Bottle of rosé sitting on the tile next to him. He looked up at you with impossibly soft doe eyes and you couldn’t just stand there with your glass. So, you slowly sank to the floor, your shoulders brushing against each other as you sat next to him. 

“Y’know, I just realized the film you have is color film.” You spoke slowly, hating that you were about to burst his bubble. “You wouldn’t be able to develop it at home, anyway. The chemicals you bought are for black and white film, and color film has to be developed using heat.” 

“Damn.” Jungkook tipped his head back to take a very deep drink of his wine. 

“We gave a valiant effort, though.” You flashed him a small smile and the grin you got in return made your face grow hot. 

Your roommates weren’t really wrong. Jungkook didn’t have the best reputation on your university campus. There were rumors that he sold drugs (marijuana and acid, specifically) and had gang affiliations. He was quiet, kept to himself, and didn’t seem to have a whole lot of friends aside from a few guys who were equally just as questionable. Yes, you knew he’d gotten arrested the day before spring break started for getting into a fight with a guy on campus, but based on what your friends had told you, it was definitely the other guy’s fault. 

You’d also heard he had great head game, but that was a whole other thing. You just had a really hard time believing all the bad things people said about him, even when he’d admitted to a lot of the rumors being true. 

“A gang tried to recruit me when I was fresh outta high school, but I like selling on my own. Can’t trust people for shit.” 

He’d said it so casually, and you wondered what was wrong with you for finding a conversation about dealing drugs attractive. 

The thing your roommates, and a lot of other people, didn’t understand was that there was more to Jungkook than whatever dumb rumors got spread around (real or not). He was an exceptional writer. His poetry weaved in elements of hip hop, almost sounding like eloquent and lyrical rap lyrics rather than your typical stuffy poem that other students in your class tried to pass off as profound. He didn’t shy away from writing about mental health, sex, relationships, and loss. Everything he put down was raw, and you liked that it made other people in the class uncomfortable. Jungkook wasn’t afraid to be himself. Wasn’t that what art was supposed to be all about? 

And he was artistic in every way. Not only did he write well, but he was obviously into photography, and he also dabbled in multimedia sculpture. But the most impressive was probably his paintings. You’d seen the work he’d posted on Instagram, and during one of your hangouts he’d told you about how he’d been commissioned by the city to work on a public mural with another local artist. 

Very few people knew these things about Jungkook. They saw the tattoos, the piercings, the occasional blunt wedged between his lips, and they painted him in a way that was so distorted it annoyed you. 

“Thanks for helping me, though. I appreciate you.” 

You bit your bottom lip into your mouth to suppress another smile, instead opting to simply nod your head and cover up any expression by taking a drink. 

At this point, the two of you had been hanging out at least once a week. Usually you just sat outside on his parents’ front porch and smoked and talked about life. His parents seemed to always be out of town, and although Jungkook lived across the hall from you in the university dorms, he stayed at his parents’ house a lot to take care of their dog. 

It felt weird, though, hanging out with Jungkook. It was like all your interactions could only happen during those moments; otherwise, he didn’t talk to you when you saw him around campus. Even in your advanced poetry class, he would lock eyes with you across the room, but he never said a word. 

And it didn’t help that he was best friends and roommates with Kim Taehyung, the campus casanova who’d fucked you like you were the only girl in the world for an entire semester until you saw him cuddled up at a party with some other girl who didn’t even go to your university. The next day he was standing at your dorm asking for his skateboard back, weaving some lie about how summer break was the time to be single and have fun, but that he would “never forget” the fun times you’d had. 

Then Taehyung got a girlfriend. 

So maybe you were a little bit bitter over how things ended with Taehyung (and maybe you’d spent the entire summer crying yourself to sleep at night and aimlessly scrolling through Tinder, looking for anyone who might replace him and finding nothing). But the worst part was knowing that Taehyung had probably talked to Jungkook about you, and you had no idea what he might have said. 

“Hopefully the film is still okay,” you said after a moment, trying to pull yourself out of the cyclical negative thoughts you were often consumed by. 

You finished your glass, shaking your head at Jungkook’s offer for more rosé. He nodded, pushing himself up to stand and reached out to take your empty glass. 

You watched him from the floor as he washed the glasses in the sink. Your eyes lingered just a bit too long on the way his forearm muscles flexed while he cleaned, a few veins popping out along the back of his hands and the inside of his arm. Tattoos and piercings hadn’t ever been your thing, not that you didn’t appreciate the allure of body modifications. You’d just found yourself going after boys who looked polished, good boys to take home to mom. Jungkook had been the one to initiate your friendship, asking to hang out while you worked on your poems or read the many poetry collections due for class. You’d be a liar if you said his sudden interest in you hadn’t sparked your own interest in him.

Just one glass of wine was enough to make you a bit lightheaded, and Jungkook was a heavy pourer, apparently. 

“You good?” 

You blinked and stared into Jungkook’s face. He was drying off his hands now, watching you with an amused look on his face. 

“Umm, yeah. Just a lightweight,” you said with a breathy laugh that sounded a little too forced for your liking. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice. 

“You wanna go to my studio with me? The one on campus?” 

You looked down at your phone, a few text messages popping up from your roommates demanding to know where you were. Swiping to clear the notifications, you looked up at Jungkook and gave him a small smile. 

“Sure.” 

-

“That thing so fire baby, no propane. Got good pussy, girl, can I be frank? To keep it 100, girl, I ain’t no saint.” 

Music came blaring out of the car’s speakers at an alarmingly high volume, causing you to exhale a startled shout. Jungkook quickly lunged to turn down the volume and accidentally honked the car’s horn when his shoulder leaned against the steering wheel. 

“Shit, sorry.” 

“Talk about fucking sensory overload, fuck,” you mumbled, heart still dazed in your chest. 

“It was actually nice outside for once. I was whippin’ with the windows down, so the music’s gotta be louder.” 

All he was getting from you was rolled eyes and the sound of your seatbelt clicking into place. 

Jungkook turned around to look over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. He grabbed onto the back of your seat to position himself; once again, you found yourself eyeing his arms, exploring the exposed tattoos. It kind of pissed you off how hot it was when guys drove backwards. What was evolutionarily advantageous about that attraction? 

“If you wanna change it, I got a couple CDs.” 

Jungkook motioned to the middle console. You flipped through them, finding the album that was currently playing. You’d recognize it anywhere; he was one of your favorite musicians. 

“Bryson Tiller?” You turned the CD case over in your hand, eyes scanning the tracklist on the back. “You listen to sex music while you drive? And off a CD instead of Bluetooth, no less?”

Jungkook barked out a laugh, all teeth and crinkled eyes that you could just barely make out as the streetlights streaked over his face. 

“Yeah, I guess I do. You got a problem with Bryson?” His fingers lazily tapped against the steering wheel to the relaxed beat of Don’t - which happened to be your favorite song on the album. “This car is twenty-one years old. You’re lucky we’re not sitting here listening to cassettes.” 

“Who doesn’t like Bryson Tiller? That’s the baby-making music of our generation,” you said with a laugh. “Honestly, I can’t believe this song came out in fuckin’ 2015. Why does that feel like such a long time ago?” 

Jungkook sat in the driver’s seat with his legs spread as much as possible; this position was what had made you realize just how thick and nice his thighs really were. Plus, he drove with one hand on top of the steering wheel, left elbow bent slightly. He usually let his right hand rest against his thigh, though sometimes he held onto the gear shift in between the two of you. 

There was rarely any traffic in your college town, and especially not at 10pm on a Tuesday night. The two of you fell silent, Bryson Tiller’s soulful lyrics swirling through the car in the absence of conversation. Jungkook was typically a man of few words. You’d grown accustomed to carrying the conversation. With most people, that would have bothered you, but with Jungkook it was different. You knew he was paying attention when you talked; you could see it in the way the corners of his mouth twitched when you said something dorky (which was, apparently, all the time). 

And when he did have something to say, it was always worth the wait. 

“You’ve got good taste,” Jungkook said after driving a few blocks. “Guess I should probably add him to my sex playlist.”

Before you had time to process his comment Jungkook was pulling into the east parking lot of your university, the part of campus that was off to the side and only held art-related facilities. 

He led you to an unmarked backdoor of the building closest to the parking lot. Pushing the door open, he held it for you with a sweep of his hand. 

“Ladies first, noona.” 

Scowling at the honorific, you still obliged, entering a long hallway. The walls were bare, just an eggshell white, a few black scuff marks here and there, as if someone had been carrying something large and struggled to fit it through the narrow space. Jungkook maneuvered past you to lead the way to another unmarked door. 

The studio was a lot larger than you expected. One side of the room had a large rack of painted canvases to dry. You turned to inspect the left side of the room, finding multiple easels with additional canvases of varying sizes, most blank or seemingly half-finished. A rather worn-looking couch was placed in the middle of the room. Beside it was a coffee table and a Bluetooth speaker. (So Jungkook did know about modern technology.) Paint-covered tarps protected much of the concrete floor, and there were paint buckets and other supplies scattered in every corner. The entire room was pure chaos, but it seemed like there was an organization to it that only Jungkook knew. 

“So… yeah. This is my studio.” Jungkook closed the door behind you and locked it. 

Your heart skipped a beat at his action, but you swallowed down the spike of fear that had threatened to bubble up inside of you. You’d spent plenty of alone time with Jungkook. There was nothing to worry about. 

“I had to practically beg the school to let me have my own space since I’m not an art major, but they eventually let up,” Jungkook continued with a shrug. 

You were impressed, honestly. Jungkook wasn’t known for being the most reliable student academically; it was surprising they’d given him such privileges. 

“I like it,” you said simply, eyes still roaming the space. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do now. Studio art wasn’t really your thing, poetry was. 

Luckily, Jungkook had a knack for reading your mind. 

“You can sit on the couch if you want. I got a project due tomorrow morning, so I’m gonna work on it. But if you wanna paint, just lemme know.” He scrolled through his phone as he spoke, and eventually more R&B music started playing from the speaker. 

“Tomorrow morning? JK, it’s fucking 10:30.” 

You stared at him with your head tilted to the side in disbelief, but you were only met with another shrug and a grin. Living on the edge. King of Procrastination, Jeon Jungkook. You were already getting secondhand stress. 

With a quiet hum to himself as the music took over, it was clear to you that Jungkook had switched to his serious side. He began prepping one of his easels with various paint brushes and paints. Dragging a heavy-looking but small filing cabinet next to the easel, he used the surface to store his supplies while he worked. 

You flopped onto the couch, adjusting so you could have a clear view of Jungkook. He looked cute in his jeans and black hoodie, a blunt pencil tucked behind his ear. His lips pouted slightly as he planned what he was going to do with his painting. Occasionally the pencil would be plucked from his ear and a few sketches appeared on the canvas, too light for you to see what they were from your position on the couch. 

The vibration of your phone tore your eyes away from Jungkook’s figure. It was no surprise that your roommate group text was blowing up. 

Courtnayyy 😘 [10:00] BITCH WHERE ARE YOU A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:01] pls tell me the weirdo didn’t murder u Courtnayyy 😘 [10:04] If he did can I have your Mac Miller poster?  A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:15] court how tf would she approve of that if she’s dead? she ain’t gonna see this shit Courtnayyy 😘 [10:18] Ouija board A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] stfu 🔫 A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] Y/N you better answer ur fucking phone right now A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:40] hellooooooooooooooooooo

You let out a sigh loud enough for Jungkook to look over at you, eyebrows furrowed. 

“My roommates think you killed me.”

Jungkook grinned and turned back to his easel with a shake of his head. You’d expected him to say something, but then the reminder that Jungkook was… unconventional slithered into your mind. 

[10:45] I’m alive. Can you pls stop blowing up my phone now? 💀 Courtnayyy 😘 [10:46] FUCKING FINALLY  A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:47] what are you doing?? [10:50] We’re just hanging out at his studio. I’ll probably leave soon

You tossed your phone next to you on the couch and lifted your arms into the air to stretch. It was rather warm in the studio and the smooth music of whatever playlist Jungkook had on was making you feel sleepy. What kind of lame college student were you? 

“I was serious about what I said.” Jungkook didn’t look at you while he painted, too focused on mixing the right shade of brown. 

“About what?”

“You can paint if you want. All the paint and brushes are in the cabinet.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flitting from the filing cabinet next to Jungkook to the easel off to the side with a blank canvas. What if whatever you painted looked like shit? You had no idea what you were doing. 

But when did you ever get to paint in your adult life?

Pushing yourself off the couch you approached Jungkook to start rummaging in the drawers for supplies. You were stopped in your tracks, however, the moment your eyes landed on his painting. Considering that much time hadn’t passed, Jungkook was far along in his work. You came face to face with a woman, or at least the naked body of a woman. She was painted in soft earthy tones, curves accentuated by what looked like a gold silk ribbon that wrapped around her. The painting was certainly abstract because she was missing a head and her limbs weren’t finished, but just having her strong torso and thighs, and a long regal neck, somehow made her feel complete. 

“That’s beautiful, JK. She looks so realistic… How can you do all those little details so quickly?” You spoke quietly, desperately wishing you could touch the canvas. 

“Painting nudity is easy.” Another classic Jungkook shrug. “That’s why it’s so overdone. There’s nothing more beautiful than humans in their purest state, right? We’re the original art.” 

You would have never considered nudity to be pure, but you liked Jungkook’s analysis. Society saw nudity as all about sex. Despite his depiction of breasts and genitalia, Jungkook’s painting was a reflection and appreciation of a body. 

You wondered if it was anyone’s body in particular. 

The thought soured your mood a bit, and you quickly returned your focus to finding the supplies you needed. Satisfied, you took up the easel beside Jungkook. What the fuck were you going to paint? Especially now that you had this beautiful work blooming next to you. 

“Don’t think about it so much. Just go for it.” 

There was Jungkook reading your mind again. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed with the two of you working silently. At first you’d considered doing something abstract, but eventually you felt compelled to do something a bit more realistic. You’d retrieved your phone (ignoring your roommates’ texts again) to pull up a photo for reference as you painted. 

After a while Jungkook lifted his finished painting and carried it to the rack to dry. By the time he had completed his painting, you were putting your final touches on yours - one that was far more simplistic. You found it entertaining, though. 

“Who is that?” 

You’d been so absorbed in getting those final details perfected that you hadn’t noticed Jungkook standing right behind you. You jumped slightly and that elicited a chuckle from the boy. 

“It’s a portrait of Bad Bunny.” Your greatest celebrity crush. 

“He’s cute. You did a good job considering you looked so scared to start.” His comment left your cheeks burning. You’d hoped it hadn’t been so obvious, but Jungkook was too observant for his own good (and for yours, too). “Maybe I should hire you as my assistant.”

“Thanks. It’s not as good as yours, though.” 

Jungkook waved you off and the action made him realize he had a good amount of paint on his hands. Rather than find a towel, he simply rubbed his hands against his thighs. You watched him, eyes lingering on the way his thighs stretched the tight material of his jeans. Looking up to return to his face you were met with a smirk. You were doing a real shitty job at being subtle, apparently. 

You chose not to say anything and focused your attention on finishing your painting, not wanting Jungkook to be waiting for you longer than he needed to. He sat down on the couch, now distracted by his phone. 

“So,” you spoke as you lifted up your finished painting, following Jungkook’s instructions to put it on the drying rack. “What was the inspiration for your painting?” 

Was it a bold question? You were trying to play it off like you weren’t going to cling to whatever his answer was. 

Jungkook patted the space next to him to encourage you to sit down. Once you were sitting next to him, your body turned slightly to face him, Jungkook leaned forward. His face was mere inches from yours and you could feel his breath tickle your cheek. He watched you with those brown doe eyes, such an innocent feature on an otherwise devious-looking face. The smirk that formed on his lips strongly contrasted the sweetness of his eyes. 

Jungkook’s tongue poked out to play with his lip ring before he answered your question. It was impossible to look away from his lips, and you thought you felt your heart stop. 

“The deadline.” 

The smirk grew deeper as he pulled away, running a hand through his hair. You were more than disappointed, feeling yourself deflate and finally realizing you’d been holding your breath. Your shoulders slumped slightly, but you managed to mask the reason for your disappointment by pretending you were disappointed in him. 

“Boy, you need to work on your assignments earlier so you can come up with something good,” you huffed, crossing your arms against your chest. 

“Was it not good?” He grinned, a cocky twinkle in his eyes, no longer doe-shaped but narrowed in mirth. “Come on, let me drop you off. It’s almost 2.” 

“Fuck, I have an 8am.” 

With a quick check on your phone you saw that it was indeed almost 2am. How had you spent almost four hours in the studio without realizing it? Nevermind the fact that you’d spent another three or four hanging out with Jungkook before you’d even gotten to the studio. 

“I’d skip if I was you.” 

Jungkook led you through the art building and to his car, making sure that the music didn’t startle you half to death when he started the car this time. 

“Unlike you, I’m a good student, thanks.” 

It wasn’t a terrible dig because you knew Jungkook enough to know he didn’t give a shit. All he’d do was give you a small smile and melt your heart with the confusion of how it was possible for someone to look both so soft and so dangerous. 

Your dorm was on the other side of campus, so the drive over was quick. But rather than drop you off at the sidewalk, Jungkook pulled into the parking lot, much to your surprise. 

“I thought you were staying over at your parents’?” 

Jungkook kept the car running, but he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned back in his chair.

“Me and Tae are gonna go smoke. I got this new strain of indica we wanna try.”

He didn’t look at you when he spoke, instead facing forward to peer out the window. Once he brought up weed, you realized you could smell the remnants of weed smoke in Jungkook’s car, partially masked by air freshener. 

At the mention of Jungkook’s roommate you felt your stomach drop. The feeling was only intensified when you followed Jungkook’s gaze to see a figure with long legs and broad shoulders make their way down the sidewalk, heading right in your direction. You felt ice shoot through your veins and panic settle into your chest. 

“Oh,” you squeaked out. You needed to escape, but you couldn’t force your hands to unbuckle yourself and open the door. 

“Do you wanna come with us?” Jungkook took your lack of movement as a desire to get high. 

You looked at Jungkook with an open mouth, but nothing came out. And even if you could speak, Taehyung was already flinging the car door open. 

“Oh, shit, Y/N. I didn’t even see you there.” Taehyung leaned against the car door, eyes sweeping over your small figure as you attempted to look as relaxed as possible. 

Did he lick his lips or were you just imagining that? 

“Want me to sit in the back?” 

Taehyung leaned down so he could poke his head into the car and talk to Jungkook right over you. The position gave you a perfect view of his neck and his collarbones peeking out from beneath the silk button-up shirt he was wearing, the first few buttons undone as usual. His cologne smelled like cedar and you could faintly smell something fruity, likely the strawberry-flavored vape he smoked. 

All of that was enough to send you mentally screaming into the void. 

“ThanksJungkookIgottago,” you sputtered, doing your best not to touch Taehyung as you moved around him to get out.

“Y/N!” 

You ignored Jungkook’s call, not daring to look back. Despite your exhaustion you took the stairs two at a time until you made it to your dorm, nearly dropping your keys as you unlocked the door. The kitchen and living room were dark, so you knew your roommates were asleep - or at least in their own rooms. You didn’t even bother to do your nighttime routine, opting to strip down to your underwear and collapse into your bed face-first. 

Darkness and silence brought you no solitude; quite honestly, they had the opposite effect. All you had in your head was Taehyung’s face… in your ears, his voice… in your nostrils, his smell. 

Groaning, you flipped onto your back and grabbed your phone to put on your favorite thunderstorm white noise playlist. In the middle of picking the perfect sound, your phone buzzed with a text. 

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:15] you good?

You bit your lip, not wanting to leave him hanging so late, but also knowing if you went down this rabbithole you’d never fall asleep. 

[2:16] I’m fine

Your phone vibrated almost immediately, but you forced yourself to put it away. Whatever Jungkook had to say could wait until the morning. Or until never, because right now you never wanted to speak to another human ever again.

-

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:16] you don’t have to lie to me Jungkook (Poetry) [3:02] lying destroys our intrinsic value as human beings by corrupting our ability to make rational choices and have free will Jungkook (Poetry) [3:03] immanuel kant said that

You didn’t realize you’d be hit with a philosophical lecture the moment you woke up, but then you remembered that Jungkook had gone smoking with Taehyung. The two of them got all philosophical when they were high, as if they really could achieve some kind of superior knowledge. 

They were idiots. 

“Oh my god, when the fuck did you get home last night?” 

Anyone speaking that loud and harshly so early in the morning was an assailant. You glared at Courtney, brushing past her to get to the bathroom. You shouldn’t have been surprised that the girl stayed outside the bathroom door as she waited for you to finish. 

“It was definitely after 1am ‘cause that’s when we went to bed,” she kept on talking even when you turned the shower on. “What could you guys have possibly been doing that whole time? Did you hook up?” 

“No.”

“What?” Courtney strained to hear you over the sound of the high-pressure water. 

“I said, no!” 

It was ridiculous that you were standing there, rubbing your naked body down with lavender exfoliating soap, while you discussed your alleged hook up with a guy you barely knew. 

You thanked the Lord Almighty that your schedule didn’t line up with your roommates on Wednesdays, or else you would have had to suffer Courtney and Amiriah’s interrogations the whole day. 

Instead you sleepily dragged yourself through two morning classes and a work shift at the university library before you’d eventually have to face Jungkook head-on. 

-

Your Advanced Poetry class was small enough that all the students could sit around a large table together. The small, intimate class size made it easier for collaboration and made workshops feel a bit less ruthless. You’d gotten to the point that you could read anonymous poems from each of your classmates and know exactly who wrote what. You were like a little family who met every Wednesday evening for two hours and poured your thoughts, dreams, fears, and goals into each other with every written piece. This class was going to be what broke your heart when the semester was over; you could already feel yourself missing it. 

“Alright, y’all, we’re going to workshop the imitation poems from the exercise last week.”

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Whatever else Professor Mendez was saying didn’t compute; she sounded like she was speaking underwater and all you could do was shift your eyes to look at Jungkook across the table from you. You hadn’t expected him to be already looking at you nor for him to hold your gaze until you quickly looked away. 

The poem you’d written for the exercise was about Taehyung. 

You’d thought only your professor was ever going to see it. And now she was calling on you to read yours aloud first. No one else would know who it was about, but you knew Jungkook would know. 

“Y/N?” 

Professor Mendez looked at you, her star pupil, with an encouraging smile. You swallowed, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze though you felt him staring. If you kept the piece of paper on the table in front of you, you wouldn’t risk showing everyone that your hands were slightly trembling. And then you opened your mouth. 

I SAW YOU ONCE IN A FEVER DREAM  (After Kaveh Akbar) I saw you once in a fever dream shirtless  swaddling me in a hammock hanging from cedar trees   When you smoke it gets stuck   in your hair Save it for later The smell of marijuana   and strawberry vapes     lingered in my clothes     In another fever   dream you were my mother The doctor asked if I am  allergic to any medications and I should   have said yes but it is only you   I have felt love flow through me I have never felt   it given My friend once told me  there is only so much you can do   At what point am I the problem   Sometimes I stare at the wall and peel the nails  off of my fingers for every time you broke me  Somehow it feels better this way  

It was depressing, pathetic even. Sure, you’d imitated Kaveh Akbar’s unique writing style to a T, but now you looked stupid for writing about a man you’d never even dated, who had unofficially “dumped” you last spring semester. Jungkook had to know. Unless he was completely oblivious (which was honestly likely, when you really thought about it). And maybe you were being too cocky, assuming some guy who you meant nothing to would care or even pay attention to the fact that his friend had fucked you into a broken heart. 

You sat with tight lips as the class discussed your poem, a few people put off by your use of space on the page, others praising your unique way of formatting the stanzas. Jungkook never spoke, but he never did until the end of class when Professor Mendez called him out for being silent. Then he would provide feedback for whoever had gone before him, his opinion usually directly contradicting whatever your professor said. She knew he wasn’t being defiant, and she welcomed his creative challenge of the status quo. But sometimes he was a bit much. 

“Well, Mr. Jungkook. Let’s hear yours.” 

You could feel the entire room both tense and lean forward, as if scared but also unimaginably eager for whatever it was they were about to receive. 

“I didn’t finish, but I can read what I have. It’s a prose poem.” 

UNTITLED I met her in the evaporated residue of a midnight bong rip. Among glimmers of artificially-simulated worlds, of over-saturated hues. Hurried hues of a purple-pink bruise, bloom, slippery between thighs. Tongue flicks. Slide. These things only happen behind closed doors. An eternity of almosts, she likes to wear my hand as a choker. Drag me whole into desire, into pink folds and broken promises. Drip slick slow stroke glide and move inside, eat feast thrive. Beat it up every time. Pulsate. Pulsate. Own it. My hands on your hips. Blindfold over your eyes. Selfish fuck. I am a decomposing mind; her body whispers otherwise. 

Jungkook could have written a poem about dog shit and the way he recited it would have been breathtaking. It didn’t matter that his lines were verging on pornographic for an academic setting; simply the way the alliteration flowed like honey from his mouth was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. The words came out like a gentle lullaby of filth, a smooth mantra, a promise of sin. It was no wonder the classroom fell silent. Even Professor Mendez stared at Jungkook with an unreadable expression on her face. 

“Thank you, Jungkook,” she said after a moment. 

He nodded politely and slouched into his seat again. 

Professor Mendez looked around the room for the first volunteer to take a stab at critiquing Jungkook’s poem. Only a brave soul could manage, and you were determined to keep your mouth shut. You could already visualize the way your classmates were going to gossip about this once class was over. You wondered how long it would take for Courtney and Amiriah to find out. 

“Who would like to go first?” 

It appeared the class had very few critiques, likely because no one wanted to dive too deeply into the abstract and overtly-sexual writing that had been. 

Professor Mendez went on a mini rant about the importance of knowing how to keep the flow of a prose poem that somehow derailed into a story about her new puppy. Perhaps someone had gotten her going to kill the last few minutes of class until it was 8pm and she was forced to let the group of you go into the night. 

You always managed to be the last person leaving the classroom every Wednesday night. Usually it was due to your prolonged conversations with Professor Mendez, the two of you gushing over a new poetry collection or the latest episode of a TV show. Jungkook, on the other hand, was typically the first to leave. Likely to go find his little crew of delinquents to do drugs with or whatever else they got themselves into. 

Except apparently not today. 

As you waved a goodbye to Professor Mendez, you headed down the empty hallway fully aware of the second pair of shoes echoing in the silence along with yours. Your insides were still scrambled from the series of exceptionally unfortunate events that had involved Kim Taehyung in the past twenty-four hours. You had no desire to entertain Jungkook, especially not after him staring you down all of class. And reading that fucking poem. 

“Are you really gonna ignore me?” 

You squeezed the straps of your backpack and stopped in front of the door to leave the academic building. If you acted bothered it would make you more suspicious. And it would let Kim Taehyung continue to rule your mind. You were better than this… 

So you turned around to face the doe-eyed boy and tried not to imagine his hand squeezing your throat. 

“I’m not ignoring you.” You cocked your head to one side in feigned confusion. Jungkook met your look with a small pout. 

“I’m sorry if I did something to upset you yesterday.” 

So, he didn’t know. Either that, or he was lying. But didn’t Immanuel Kant say lying is bad? You did everything in your power not to scowl to yourself. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I swear.” You let out an irritated sigh, casting a glance behind your shoulder as you heard thunder ripple through the air outside. You’d obviously forgotten to check the weather that morning, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts. 

“Okay…” He eyed you skeptically, but he didn’t want to push you further and threaten pushing you away completely. “Can I walk with you?” 

“Of course.” He lived literally across the hall from you. You could open your door and be face-to-face with his. 

“Okay… Can I give you a hug?” 

You rolled your eyes so far and deep inside your skull it was a surprise they didn’t detach and disappear somewhere. It wasn’t fair that you were taking out your frustrations on Jungkook simply because your ego was hurt. That self-awareness was what made you nod your head with your arms outstretched. 

Jungkook enveloped you in his large frame, the side of your face pressed against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, and he held the back of your head in his free hand. There was something about Jungkook’s closeness that caught you off guard. Perhaps it was because this was the first time you’d ever hugged each other; you’d never been this physical with each other at all, actually. You weren’t much of the hugging type, anyway. 

Jungkook’s warmth made you settle into his embrace for much longer than you’d expected. He felt soft, safe. Even the chemical smell of paint that had seeped into his hoodie was welcoming. Despite the rumbling of a heavy thunderstorm outside, you could still hear his heart beat beneath you. Something about that realization made you pull away from him suddenly. It was just too… close. 

He stared at you with a wrinkled brow and the pout was slowly coming back, but he stayed silent. You couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Ready?”

 With raised shoulders you braced yourself for the downpour. 

By the time the two of you had sprinted across the courtyard, you were completely soaked. You felt your earlier frustrations melt with the water droplets gliding down your arms as you leaned against Jungkook’s equally-soaked body. He was nearly doubled over in laughter, shoulder pressed against the wall next to the front door of his dorm room. 

“You look like a wet cat,” he teased. 

“Oh yeah? Well you look like a wet dog.” Your poor hair was going to get embarrassingly frizzy if you didn’t take care of it immediately. 

Jungkook flashed you an evil grin and violently shook his head, sending water spraying all over. 

“Jungkook, stop!” you hollered, giving him a shove. “I feel so gross already.” 

You twisted around to fish out your dorm key from your backpack, but your fingers scraped the bottom of the pocket. No key. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, setting your backpack on the ground to search through more pockets. Giving up on that possibility, you checked the pockets of your shorts. Nothing. 

Unlocking your phone, your thumb hovered over your roommate group text, unsure if you should interrupt Amiriah and Courtney. It was a little after 8pm… Both of your roommates would be in their weekly sorority meeting that usually lasted at least an hour, if not two. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I… locked myself out.” What a fucking rookie mistake. What was this, freshman year? “I’m pretty sure I left my keys on the kitchen table.” 

Now you were stranded in your hallway, cold and soaking wet. You could go downstairs to ask your RA to let you in, but she was a bitch. 

“You’re a mess. Come on, I’ve got clothes for you.” 

He didn’t give you the opportunity to protest; instead, he stepped inside his dorm without even so much as a look over his shoulder at you. 

Apparently your desire to be warm and dry was stronger than your fear of entering the Dorm Room from Hell. You’d never been in Jungkook’s dorm before, mostly because you didn’t want to run into Taehyung. 

The layout was the same as yours: full kitchen with adjacent living room, long hall with individual bedrooms that ended with a bathroom. The decorations practically screamed “guys who smoke weed” considering the giant marijuana leaf tapestry hanging in the living room and the multicolored string lights that hung on the ceiling casting a psychedelic glow throughout the dorm. An incense that smelled interestingly like the ocean was burning on the coffee table. 

You were pretty sure burning incense wasn’t allowed on university property. Then again, neither was smoking weed in the parking lot, but Jungkook and his roommates did whatever they wanted. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or…?” 

Jungkook led the way down the hall, you trailing a bit behind him as you continued being nosy. As you passed the first bedroom, the door suddenly swung open, causing you to yelp when you were face-to-face with a rather grumpy looking man with shockingly green hair. The bleary look of his eyes told you he’d been asleep. 

“Why the fuck are you wet?” 

You did a double take, shocked at the roughness of the question from a stranger. Before you could answer, Jungkook was pulling you forward by the wrist. 

“Hyung, I went to the grocery store today. There’s tangerines on the counter.” 

The green-haired roommate grumbled a thank you and shot straight to the kitchen. 

“Just ignore Yoongi,” Jungkook whispered, stopping in front of his bedroom. “He’s a fifth-year senior and probably ready to burn the entire university down.” 

Jungkook’s bedroom was the exact opposite of what you’d expected. After seeing the chaos of his art studio, you’d thought his bedroom would be much of the same. Instead you were met with a simple, organized room. No clutter, no mess. Everything had its place, not an art supply in sight. Peaking over his shoulder, you saw even his dresser drawers were organized, each article of clothing neatly folded. That was likely why Jungkook was able to quickly pick out a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts to hand you. 

“Oh, and this,” he tossed you a towel, as well. “You can use the bathroom. I’ll be in here.” 

“Thank you,” you said with an appreciative nod. 

The skin on your fingers had wrinkled up from the rain and you pressed them into the towel to find some relief. Who knew the feeling of wearing dry clothes would be so sweet? You took your time in the bathroom, rubbing down every inch of your body. Unfortunately, even your underwear and bra were soaked. If you put on dry clothes over them, the water would surely bleed into the fabric. So you opted for going commando, to your dismay. At least Jungkook’s t-shirt was baggy enough that your chest wasn’t on full display, and it wasn’t like anyone would know you weren’t wearing underwear. 

You caught a look at yourself in the mirror and laughed at how ridiculous you looked. It was like you’d come out of a really bad hip-hop music video from the early 2000s, literally drowning in baggy clothes. 

“Hey Jungkook… Do you have something I could put my clothes in?” You stood in the hallway in front of Jungkook’s bedroom, wet clothes in your hands. The door was closed and you were afraid of opening it if he was still changing. 

“You look cute.” 

You instinctively squeezed your bundle of clothes, turning your head to the side at the sound of that Mother. Fucking. Annoying. Ass. Voice. 

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at you, probably utterly confused as to why you looked the way you did, standing there in his dorm. You were determined to give him absolutely nothing. 

“So, you and Jungkook, huh?” 

A small smirk twisted at the corners of his mouth. By the way he was standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, it was clear that he wasn’t planning on walking away. 

“We just got back from class,” you said matter-of-factly. 

You focused on a spot on the wall to the right of his head when you spoke; it made it easier to look at him without having to stare into his eyes. Even though you found absolutely nothing about your statement funny, Taehyung started laughing. It was a low chuckle that brought that stupid smirk out even more. 

“Were you coming back from class at 2 o’clock this morning, too?” 

His eyes glinted with something that made a shiver shoot down the length of your spine. 

Luckily, Jungkook’s abrupt presence swinging the bedroom door open gave you and Taehyung someone else to focus on, and you could safely escape the fact that you didn’t have a witty comeback to shove in Taehyung’s face for teasing you about Jungkook. There was nothing there with Jungkook.  

He just gave nice hugs. And you respected his creative mind. And he had great taste in music. And you felt a little bit bad for him because people didn’t seem to give him the chances he deserved. And, wow, he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom wearing form-fitting gray sweatpants that sat low on his hips and you could tell that they sat low because he was shirtless. And your eyes were skipping down the path that his happy trail was leading from his belly button down to the strings of his sweatpants that hung down just on top of where you could make out a slight bulge in the fabric. 

“Y/N?” 

You quickly tore your eyes from Jungkook’s crotch to look at his face, not missing the way Taehyung’s smirk was growing even wider. You opened your mouth, then looked down at your clothes, then back at Jungkook. 

“She wants something to put her clothes in,” Taehyung admitted once it was clear you weren’t going to cooperate. “I’m going over to Natalie’s. Oh, and I dipped into your Trojan stash. Yoongi hyung didn’t have any and you have too many.” 

He flashed Jungkook a grin and pushed himself from his leaning position on the wall. 

“Have fun,” he offered over his shoulder as he walked away, heading to go fuck his girlfriend’s brains out. 

You were going to throw up. 

“What a fucking asshole,” you breathed through gritted teeth. 

Rather than be surprised at your cursing, Jungkook gave you a sympathetic look as he took your wet clothes from you to put in a small duffle bag. 

“I’m sorry…” he said after a moment, gesturing for you to step into his bedroom. He closed the door behind you and hopped onto his bed. Just as he’d done in the studio, he patted the space next to him to get you to sit with him. 

“C’mere.” 

“Jungkook, I don’t wanna bother you anymore. You’ve had to deal with me a lot the past 24 hours.” 

“Do I look bothered?”

You gave the boy a tight shake of your head and clambered onto the bed beside him, careful to sit hunched over a bit so your chest wouldn’t be too obvious. For once, he no longer smelled like paint. Instead your senses were overwhelmed by the strong scent of his laundry detergent, something akin to the ocean breeze of the incense the roommates were burning in the living room. He leaned his back against the headboard, but he turned at an angle to look at you from the side. 

“He told me about you two…” 

You felt your body stiffen at his confession and Jungkook rushed to finish his thought. 

“Not the details or anything. But just that you were hooking up.” 

Great. This was perfect. Leave it to Taehyung to treat you like a secret yet blabber to his friends. You hadn’t even told any of your friends about Taehyung. To this day, Courtney and Amiriah had no idea. And could you even trust Jungkook when he said the details were spared? Didn’t boys love to talk about their sexual conquests? 

“I’m sorry he’s such a fuckboy.” 

“Oh, like you aren’t, too?” 

“What?!” 

Jungkook stared at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden aggression. But you couldn’t stop yourself. The anger you’d let fester in you from countless boys quite literally fucking you over was all spilling over the top. It was just unfortunate that Jungkook was there to bear the weight rather than Taehyung; but you didn’t think he was wholly innocent either. College boys were entitled and selfish. Even though Jungkook had never done anything to you, you’d seen how some girls followed after him like he was some kind of mystery meant to be solved. He never explicitly talked about his love life with you, but you only took that as a bad sign. 

“Oh don’t act brand new, Jungkook. You literally make everything about sex. Literally all your poems are about eating pussy. You made that fucking painting of a naked women. And what the fuck is that?” 

Your arm shot out to point at a painting hanging on his wall that looked vaguely like an abstract rendition of a vulva. It somehow felt like the icing on the fucked up cake. 

“It’s called artistic appreciation!”

“You’re just as gross as Taehyung and all the other guys who just use women for their bodies and don’t give a fuck about how we feel or-”  

“Stop it.” Jungkook’s voice hit you like ice. You dropped your arm down and whipped your head back around to look at him, lips falling open at the harshness of his tone. 

“Don’t compare me to Tae. You don’t know what I’m like. You barely know me at all.” 

“That’s not-” 

“I said stop, okay?” he interjected again and the glare he sent you was enough to shut you up for good. Being scolded wasn’t exactly high on your list of favorite activities, especially not from someone you considered to be a friend. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire and you struggled to swallow down your words, shame creeping up your face in waves.

“I’ve spent the last four months in that poetry class watching you write about feeling broken and alone and misunderstood. And you know what I do? I invite you over to do homework ‘cause I know none of your other friends are studying English. And I asked you to go to Morgan Parker’s book reading with me ‘cause I knew you didn’t have anyone else to go with. And I invited you to my studio ‘cause you said you wish you were good at art and I wanted you to see that you could be good if you tried.” 

At this point his cheeks had turned bright pink and his hands were bunched up into fists in his lap. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t look away from the fire in his eyes. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel like you owe me anything or to get some kind of recognition, okay? But just don’t fucking compare me to Tae when all I’ve ever tried to do is make you feel less alone. I like you, a lot. And I don’t even care that you’re not into me and you’re still caught up on him. I genuinely just want you to be happy.” 

With his monologue over, Jungkook turned his head to stare down at his hands, leaving you to peer at his profile with your mouth hanging open. 

It was the most you’d heard Jungkook speak, ever. It was also the most expressive you’ve ever seen him. Despite his passion for art, Jungkook was a very level person; he was collected even in the most stressful situations. To see him visibly shaking as he raised his voice was upsetting. 

“Jungkook…” You reached out to touch his arm and your heart broke into a million pieces when he flinched. 

“It’s whatever.” 

But it wasn’t. 

You felt like shrinking into the smallest version of yourself and disappearing. You’d spent so much time aching over the wounds Taehyung had left that you hadn’t considered what you might be missing out on, or how you might have been hurting someone else. Your head was lost in the dark cloud hanging over you; your heart couldn’t see anything in front of you. Blinded by your own pain, healing long overdue. 

You were so fucking stupid. 

“JK…” you started again. Lifting your hand, you brought your fingers to his chin and encouraged him to turn his head to look at you. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I just… It hurts? I don’t know what to do with the hurt.” 

From Taehyung and every other reckless boy. 

You let go of his face and waited, holding your breath until your lungs burned. Much to your disappointment, Jungkook maintained that cold stare, his eyes boring into yours so deeply that you felt like he was seeing something inside of you that even you didn’t know. You were afraid to look at him, shame making it difficult to hold your head up.  

“Give it to me.” 

“What?” It was your turn to cast your eyebrows down in confusion. 

“Give me the hurt. You don’t have to hold onto it anymore. I can take it.” His large hand enveloped your own, thumb running figure 8s into your skin.

You tried to speak, but you couldn’t choke out even a whisper as his words repeated in your head. Give me the hurt. Your hands shivered beneath his and you looked away quickly, feeling that horrid prickling in the corner of your eyes. You were not going to lose it just because you were touch-starved and never once in your life had someone so soundly declared their desire to take on whatever pain it was that you were feeling. You liked to keep your pain a secret, only letting out emotions through your poetry. And even then, you wanted to separate yourself from it. Writing was like putting down your emotion, letting it exist outside of you, so you could live free from it. But that didn’t always happen the way you wanted it to. 

You blinked quickly, losing focus on Jungkook’s face until you felt something hot slip down your cheek and you realized you were crying. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, embarrassment flooding your chest as you tried not to hiccup. What kind of emotional disaster were you? As Courtney would say, it wasn’t very girlboss of you. 

“I can take it.” 

This time the embers had gone out in his eyes. Instead, his irises were pleading with you. You tried to cover your face with your hands, but Jungkook held them down. He brushed your cheeks dry with his thumb, cradling your chin in his palm. 

“You deserve better, okay?” 

It was difficult to believe, but the soft gaze Jungkook held made you want to think maybe he was right. But how could it be possible for someone to want to carry your burden for you? He had no reason to. 

“I’m good now,” you said after a moment, the tears dried and your breathing returning to normal. You wanted to give him an out, let him have the opportunity to feel like he’d done his part in case he didn’t really mean what he said. You refused to let yourself fall for anymore bullshit. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me…” 

There was that familiar line. You felt your eyes instinctually roll and you couldn’t stop the next snarky comment from slipping past your lips, using biting humor as a defense mechanism to cope. 

“Okay, Immanuel Kant.” 

Jungkook snorted, matching your eye roll, but he gave you a smile that reached his eyes. A classic Jungkook grin that had you giving a small smile in return and making your stomach flip like a fucking gymnast. It made you slowly float back down to reality and you remembered you were sitting in a shirtless Jungkook’s bed, his body leaned forward out of concern for you, his face mere inches from yours. Hand still cradling your chin. 

“Jungkook…” 

Your voice got caught in your throat with what little breathing you could manage. Then you watched his eyes drop to your lips as you whispered his name, and the melancholic look he gave you when his gaze returned to yours made you squeeze your eyes shut with guilt. He’d confessed his interest in you and you’d completely glossed over it. Not on purpose, but somehow you were making your feelings the priority once again. And now he looked at you like you were already gone. 

“Yeah, Y/N?�� You opened your eyes at his call. 

“I…” 

You wanted to tell him how you felt, you really did. But life had taught you that in relationships there was always someone who cared more, and that person always got hurt the most. You just couldn’t keep being that person. 

Jungkook studied your face for what felt like an eternity. If he was expecting you to finish your sentence, he was certainly being patient. But it was the way his mouth turned downward into a small frown and his eyes traveled off somewhere behind you that told you he’d lost hope. 

Until he was staring at you once again and his grip on your chin tightened so subtly you almost didn’t notice. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

His voice came out low and thick. The tone sent a shiver down your spine and made goosebumps rise along your forearms. You’d never heard his voice drop so deep before, nor had you seen his eyes darken the way they had now. A spark of desire fluttered in your stomach and you felt nearly lightheaded from the way your body was hitting a peak level of anxiety over his question. If you said yes, were you just giving into yet another boy who would ruin you? And you believed Jungkook could ruin you. He was an artist; they were always trouble. 

But there was no denying the fact that your nervousness was merely a physical response to your interest in Jungkook that had grown exponentially over time. You were weak, and he was right. You did feel broken and alone and misunderstood. And you knew that sometimes Jungkook felt that way, too.

Just when Jungkook began to pull away with a look of rejection written across his face, you nodded. Unable to speak, you watched Jungkook’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip as he leaned in even closer. 

You were prepared for something much more lewd than what Jungkook gave you. Though your lips were parted, he didn’t invade your space. Instead of tongue and lip biting, you were met with a chaste kiss. His lips were soft and gentle, and the way his hand cupped your face made you feel secure, just as you’d felt when he hugged you. You’d never felt a sense of security with someone from a simple kiss. 

And then he was ending the kiss just as quickly as he’d started it, finally dropping his hand from your face. 

“Sorry,” he sighed, no longer meeting your eyes when he spoke. “I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t want you to feel like you had to agree to that…” 

It was your turn to shut him up. Maybe it was the remaining hormones swirling in your brain from having cried so much, or the adrenaline from being kissed by a man you’d tried to shoo out of your mind, but you felt bold enough to take his chin in your hand as he had done to you. You pressed your lips against his, this time forcing his mouth into a faster, deeper rhythm. The kiss was heavy and more desperate than the first. It was what you’d initially expected Jungkook to give you; a makeout that went hard and fast from the beginning, 0 to 100. That was what fuckboys did, wasn’t it? Anything to get their dick wet the quickest. 

It was what you were used to.

Your small hands found the tops of his shoulders, fingers running along his smooth, warm skin before you pushed him against the headboard. Swinging your leg over his, your knees sank into the soft bed as you straddled him. You adjusted slightly in his lap and the shift made your core press directly on top of the bulge in his pants that you’d admired earlier. This realization made the sudden heat between your legs melt like lava, and you ground your hips into his in a smooth but firm motion. 

The movement elicited a deep groan from the back of Jungkook’s throat, another sweet sound you’d never had the pleasure of hearing fall from his lips. With his lips parted from groaning, you took the opportunity to slip your tongue inside of his mouth. His hands pushed up the hem of your shirt just enough to allow him to reach the skin of your waist, gripping you hard as your body moved against his. 

“Y/N, wait.” 

Jungkook pulled back to lean his head against the bed’s headboard and you were met not with lust-filled eyes as you expected, but eyes that looked so deeply pained you almost wanted to avert your gaze. 

“I don’t wanna be a rebound. I want this to mean something, or else I can’t do this.” 

Jungkook’s voice came out hoarse, and it trembled. His eyes still held that undeniable sadness that reminded you that, once again, you had failed to see how your own fear of rejection had made you ignorant to the feelings you were instilling in him. Here he was, willing to give himself over to you, holding back because he was afraid that you would hurt him.

Once again, shame flooded your face as you frantically searched for a way to show that you needed this to mean something, that in just a few months he had become the most constant person in your life, the person you were most comfortable with even when all you often did was just sit and talk about life. 

There was an obvious way to fix this, but you still had that gnawing feeling holding you back. 

“I like you, too, Jungkook.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you spoke just barely above a whisper. If you didn’t look at him, the vulnerability of the moment would be easier to manage. “You’re kind and smart even though you’re always toeing the line of academic probation.” 

Your words came out rushed, the last comment making you let out a laugh that sounded more like a short burst of air, and you held onto his shoulders for dear life. 

“And you’re the most creative and imaginative person I’ve ever met, but you’re so lowkey about everything. You deserve more than you give yourself credit for,” you continued, eyes still closed. “And… I guess you’re kinda hot…” 

With that you slowly opened one eye to peek at Jungkook’s face. It was embarrassing to say that the grin he wore made your heart soar and it was only then that you noticed the way his fingertips were running along your sides, tracing invisible designs onto your skin. 

“Only kinda hot?” 

“Oh shut up.” 

You gave him a playful slap against his chest. You let your hand linger there, palm pressed against him to feel the strength of his pec muscle. With your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you ran your hand down the length of Jungkook’s chest and along his abdomen until you reached between your bodies to access the hem of his sweatpants. 

Without warning you gripped his cock, palming it over his pants. You felt it twitch beneath your fingers, already semi-hard and warm even through the fabric. Jungkook let out a low groan, hips slightly bucking into you. Suddenly aware of how painfully clothed you are, Jungkook slid his hands back up your sides, pushing his t-shirt off of you in the process. Ruining the orderly look of his bedroom, he tossed the t-shirt and brought his attention back to you. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he hissed, realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

You shuddered at the gentle way he ran his fingers up your sides once more and you leaned forward when his tattooed fingers lightly pinched one of your nipples until it went hard. Then he moved onto the other one, tweaking it slowly. 

After a moment you let go of him and reached for the hem of his sweatpants, waiting for him to lift his body so you could pull them down his legs. 

He’s big, bigger than you’d expected. You’d imagined he would have a nice dick, purely because it seemed like the most mysterious, standoffish guys always did. They didn’t have to compensate by being boisterous and arrogant; they knew what they were packing and that was enough. But Jungkook was quite possibly too much. You were a small person, for fuck’s sake. 

“We don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready, we can stop.” 

There was Jungkook reading your mind, yet again. How was it possible for him to know exactly what to say every single time? Were you just that expressive? If so, no one else in your life read you so well. 

“Stop talking,” you repeated his earlier command, but you didn’t look him in the eyes. Instead you were focused on how heavy and soft his cock felt in your hand as you admired him. You ran your fingers along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, then you glided your thumb along the tip to smear the bit of precum that was already leaking. The action made Jungkook whimper and the sound sent a jolt straight into your core. 

But just before you could lower your head down to give him what you knew he wanted, Jungkook’s hand was cupping your chin once again. He pulled your face upwards to guide you back to his. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I want to do this,” you assured him, but he slowly shook his head. 

“You’re going in so fast, and you don’t have to. I’m not some asshole hookup. The point of all this isn’t just to get me off and make you put in all the work.” He leaned forward to kiss you on the tip of your nose and you’d never felt more wanted in your entire life. “You deserve to feel good for once.” 

Snaking his arm around your waist, Jungkook gently flipped you onto your back. Spreading your legs apart with his knees, he kneeled over you as he began laying hot kisses down the length of your neck, pausing only to suck at the soft skin where your neck and collarbone met. 

“Jungkook…” you sighed, squirming underneath him once his mouth began to travel further down. 

He flicked his tongue against one of your nipples, drawing a circle around the erect mound. He let out a deep hiss of approval when you moaned, arching your back to push yourself against his mouth. While his tongue was busy exploring your chest, Jungkook took his sweet time pulling his basketball shorts off of you, those too flying across the room. 

When he moved back into a comfortable position between your legs, his thigh brushed against your core and he let out a moan loud enough you were sure his roommates would hear him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you could’ve warned me you weren’t wearing any underwear,” he groaned, his thigh now glistening with your arousal. 

“Sorry I didn’t think to tell you while I was crying.” 

“So dramatic.” 

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment that bore even deeper into your soul when a pathetic whimper escaped your lips the moment you felt Jungkook’s hand slip in between your thighs. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he sighed, effortlessly sliding his fingers along your folds. He ran his fingers up and down slowly as if he were memorizing each crevice and the way your legs jumped when he hit a certain spot, especially once he began stroking your clit. 

He was exploring, you realized. He was learning your body and there was nothing more embarrassing. All you could think about was the fear that Jungkook might not like what he saw. Or that he was comparing you to his past fucks. Or that Taehyung had told him things about your sex life. 

“Why are you hiding from me?”

You felt your hands being pried from your face and lifted over your head. Jungkook pinned your wrists above you, his face now inches from yours. You could see a restrained wildness in his eyes, but his eyebrows were knitted together in frustration. 

“Why?” he repeated. 

You shook your head, but another irritated call of your name made you question your decision to defy him.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed…” you whispered, avoiding his gaze. 

“Does this seem like disappointment to you?” Jungkook rolled his hips into you, his now rock hard cock sliding against your dripping folds. 

“Ahh, n-no,” you gasped, wiggling under his hold. 

“Okay, so don’t hide from me. Let me take care of you.” 

Letting go of your wrists, Jungkook got off of the bed. You watched him with confusion that slowly melted into a mixture of anxiety and sweet anticipation as he hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Falling to his knees, Jungkook let your legs rest on his broad shoulders. You could feel his breath against your skin and it took everything in your power not to begin squirming again when you felt his tongue lick a hot stripe up the inside of your thigh. 

“I want you to watch me while I eat you out,” Jungkook murmured, his dark eyes locking with yours as he leaned forward to plant a kiss against your lower lips. “Okay?” 

You had no choice but to nod in compliance, propping yourself up on your forearms so you could get a better view even though everything in you was screaming to break your gaze. You could hardly believe it was Jungkook staring at you through his bangs from between your legs. Not to mention you were usually very shy when it came to being sexually pleasured - mostly because it rarely happened. Guys were always expecting you to do them favors, not the other way around. You couldn’t even remember the last time a guy had gone down on you. 

But there was no time to be shy when Jungkook abruptly plunged his tongue into your folds. You let out a loud yelp and immediately slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the remaining squeals threatening to slip from your parted lips. Jungkook chuckled at your response and the vibration made your cunt throb. 

Still, you kept your gaze locked with his as he lapped up your juices, no matter how dirty it made you feel to have those blown out pupils bore into yours. Your eyes only fluttered when his lips found your clit and began to suck on it while his tongue flicked a steady rhythm against it, the two sensations proving to be almost too much for you to handle. Your breathing became ragged as you felt your abdomen tense up. 

“Jungkook,” you whispered a moan, hands gripping the bed sheets so tightly your fingers started to hurt. 

“Hmm, baby? You’re gonna have to speak up.” The new nickname made you whimper. 

As if to encourage you to find your voice, Jungkook slid two fingers inside of you as he returned to pleasuring your clit. The sudden stretch immediately ripped a strangled moan out of you and your hips involuntarily bucked into Jungkook’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized, but Jungkook only fucked into you harder, expertly curling his fingers at just the right spot to make your legs start to shake. 

“Don’t apologize. You can fuck my face all you want,” he lifted his head up to lick his lips, sending you a wink that made your heart stop. 

He could sense your orgasm coming soon by the way your walls were clenching around his fingers, but he was determined to make it as mind-shattering as possible. Fitting a third finger inside of you, he continued to suck on your clit, tongue swirling to the rhythm of his fingers. 

“Ohh, oh my god,” you sobbed, tears pooling in your eyes as you finally reached your climax. You let out a loud cry, fingers tangled in Jungkook’s hair as you struggled to still your shaking legs. 

Licking a final stripe up your lips, Jungkook lifted his head from your thighs and gave you a satisfied grin. He was truly a sight for sore eyes with his mouth soaked in your arousal and his hair a mess from your fingers running through it. You fell flat on your back, legs dangling off the edge of the bed. 

“You good?”

“I’m going to die.”

Your eyes were on the ceiling but you heard him laugh and you felt his strong arms lift your legs back onto the bed, adjusting you so you were comfortably in the center of the mattress again. 

“Damn, I didn’t realize I was gonna make you tap out so fast,” he teased, lying down beside you. He pressed a kiss against your throat. 

“Everyone says you have great head game and I should’ve taken them more seriously.” 

“Who says that?!” 

You turned onto your side to face him, already rolling your eyes. “Don’t you know the rumors that get spread about you?” 

Jungkook gave you a small shake of his head. “I don’t worry about people. I’m only worried about you.” 

The warm fuzzy feelings his words gave you were too much for you to bear, so you pushed them away by pulling him closer, crashing your lips into his. Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush up against his chest. You could feel his cock still hard against your leg and it reminded you that this whole situation felt so foreign to you. Never had you been pleasured by a man who expected nothing in return.

“You are art, you know that? A fucking masterpiece,” Jungkook sighed against your lips, pulling away to nuzzle against your neck. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yes, baby?” There was that fucking nickname again making your pussy flutter back to life. 

Instead of answering him, you reached down to grab his cock. He groaned against your throat as you gave him a few slow pumps. He’d taken care of you just as he’d promised, and now you hoped he’d let you take care of him. Not because you felt obligated to, but because you genuinely wanted to. 

Wordlessly, Jungkook rolled you onto your back so that he was hovering over you, his forearms on either side of your head. 

“I want you so bad,” he growled against your ear, hips rolling into your open legs. 

“What are you waiting for?” you whispered. 

“Fuck…” 

You blinked and he was no longer on top of you. Instead he was rummaging through the drawer of his nightstand, eventually pulling out a shiny square packet. For someone normally so calm, Jungkook’s fingers were shaking with need as he rolled the condom on. 

“Is this okay?” He returned to his position between your legs as you laid on your back. Your heart stung at his thoughtfulness, shocked that he was asking you what position you wanted him in. You nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. Jungkook ran his fingers along the inside of your thighs, his head dipped down so his bangs fell forward, partially obstructing your view of his face. 

You gasped when you felt something wet hit your cunt. He’d spit on you. You could feel the extra lubrication slide down your folds and the lewd act made you shiver. Sure, maybe that was fairly tame for some people, but it had your head reeling.  

Holding the base of his cock, Jungkook rubbed the tip along your folds, further smearing his spit and your arousal together. 

“If you want to stop, just tell me,” he said hoarsely, and that was the warning you got before he was sinking his cock into your entrance. 

Despite how relaxed and turned on you felt, the stretch was considerable. You tensed for a moment and Jungkook froze, his eyes meeting yours. With a nod of approval from you, he pushed himself in further, finally bottoming out and holding the position as he waited for you to adjust. You felt so unbelievably full with him inside of you and the pressure of him against your walls was enough to make your legs shake once again. 

After giving you a bit of time, Jungkook began to move his hips, starting with slow but long strokes that got increasingly deeper. 

“Oh god,” he moaned, head hanging down so he could watch his cock disappear into your cunt over and over again. After a while he lifted one of your legs to rest it on his shoulder so he could adjust his angle to thrust into you that much deeper, and the next slam of his body into yours that had his cock make direct contact with your g-spot made you scream. 

“Shit, Y/N, Yoongi’s gonna kill us if you keep screaming like that,” Jungkook said with a grin that very much made it seem like he wouldn’t mind dying for such an offense. 

“You… just feel s-so g-good,” you cried out, your nails clawing at Jungkook’s arms as you searched for something to hold on to. 

He couldn’t possibly have been concerned considering he only thrusted into you even harder. The thing about Jungkook, though, was that he was going hard but he was going slow. He was savoring every time he slid into you, savoring the glisten of his cock as he pulled out. Turning his head to the side, he kissed the leg he’d draped over his shoulder, one hand running down the smooth skin while his other held on tightly to your hip to keep you in place. 

“Fuck, yes baby,” Jungkook groaned. He pressed his fingers against your mouth, gently prying your lips open to stick his thumb in your mouth. The action surprised you, but you obediently sucked on his thumb until he was pulling away again. Reaching between you, he pressed his now wet thumb against your clit and began rubbing circles as he fucked you. 

You whined at the sudden stimulation, your walls fluttering around his cock as your breathing turned into panting. “I’m gonna…” you let out another moan, your walls clenching around Jungkook’s cock. “I’m gonna come again.” 

“That’s right, come on my cock for me, baby. Let go for me.” 

How could Jungkook make dirty talk sound so alluring? So supportive? It was just like his writing, a gentle lullaby of filth. From the look he’d given you earlier, you knew there was a less tame side of him you’d yet to tap into. The memory of his poem flooded your mind, daring you to take things a step further… she likes to wear my hand as a choker…

Reaching out, you grabbed the hand that was holding onto your hip and brought it to rest on your neck. You saw that same wild look flash in Jungkook’s eyes once again, and you knew the action had affected him because his thrusting faltered for a moment. With your lips slightly parted, you tilted your head back slightly to expose more of your throat for him. Jungkook wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a sight more beautiful. 

“Shit, you keep acting up like this I’m gonna fall in love,” he grunted, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he opened up his palm to get a firm grip on your neck. As he resumed his rhythmic thrusting, he squeezed your throat. At first, the decrease in oxygen had you gasping in your body’s natural drive for self-preservation. Once your body and mind adjusted, though, you succumbed to the way your body tingled with excitement. When you moaned, your eyes fluttering and rolling back, Jungkook applied even more pressure. 

You’d never imagined you’d have another orgasm somewhere inside of you so soon after the first, but you were convulsing around Jungkook’s cock just as he asked you to, calling out his name in the sweetest song. 

It wasn’t long before his thrusts became sloppier and his grip on your throat became almost too tight. The string of profanity he growled in your ear as he came made you shiver. Was it really possible that you affected him so deeply? 

Jungkook hovered over you for a moment, attempting to catch his breath. 

“I think that’s the hardest I ever came in my life,” he said weakly, finally mustering up enough strength to pull himself out of you. He left the bed to throw away the soiled condom, you musing at his cute little butt as he sauntered away. 

“You’re welcome,” you said with a grin, though the hoarseness of your voice startled you. You pressed your hand against your throat and winced, not because your throat hurt, but because of the way Jungkook looked at you with deep concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly, climbing into bed beside you. 

“Please,” you sighed, snuggling against Jungkook’s chest. “You did me too good.” 

“I’ll fucking do you again, too, if you don’t stop rubbing your thighs against me,” he murmured in your ear, causing you to chuckle lightly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

A loud knock on the door made you jump, your arm instinctually covering your chest though you knew Jungkook had locked the door. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered, silently willing whoever it was to go away. 

The knocking continued, this time a bit more aggressively. 

“Open up, bro, the light’s on. I know you’re in there,” Taehyung complained from the other side of the door. “You’ve still got my pen.”  

Your eyes grew wide as you looked at Jungkook. 

With a groan, Jungkook got out of bed once again. Grabbing the basketball shorts you’d been wearing, he pulled them on and snagged Taehyung’s vape pen from where it sat atop his dresser. He didn’t bother to put a shirt on or fix his sex hair. 

“Wait,” you whispered. “What about me?” 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Jungkook spoke at a normal volume as if to demonstrate how serious he was about not caring if Taehyung saw you there. 

“Seriously, JK?” Taehyung clearly thought Jungkook’s comment had been directed towards him. 

You quickly grabbed Jungkook’s t-shirt and pulled it on seconds before Jungkook swung the bedroom door open. 

You watched Taehyung’s eyes slowly scan over Jungkook’s appearance. His mouth twisted as though he were about to speak, but then he locked eyes with you where you still sat in Jungkook’s bed, probably looking just as fucked out as Jungkook did. 

“Here.” Jungkook dropped the vape in Taehyung’s open palm. “Need anything else?” 

Taehyung’s eyes made their way back to Jungkook and whatever snarky comment he’d been prepared to make before was now gone. 

“Nah, that’s it, thanks.” 

-

After a week of being exclusive with Jungkook, you felt the need to loop your roomates into the whole situation. Courtney and Amiriah were your best friends, after all. The three of you had been your own Golden Trio since day one freshman year, ending up in the same peer mentor group. The first time you’d all hung out together you’d gone to an off-campus frat party. Barely an hour in and Courtney had been throwing her guts up right into the pool. Needless to say, the three of you had never gone back to that house. As horrifying as it was, you felt like it painted the perfect picture of your relationship. You were all in it for the long haul, no matter how messy. 

But now you had to tell them you were dating the weird guy. 

You kept looking at your phone, checking the time. The two should have been out of their sorority meeting by now, which meant they could arrive at your dorm at any moment. Waiting was nerve-racking. You gnawed on a hangnail, only pulling your gaze from your phone when you felt Jungkook’s strong arms wrap around your waist. He pulled you into his lap on the couch and leaned into you, lightly brushing his lips along your neck, making you shiver. 

“Why do you act like you’re having me meet your parents?” he asked with a small chuckle. 

“Courtney and Amiriah are important to me,” you started, trying to find the correct words to explain your friends. “They’re also really… judgmental, but because they care about me. And they don’t trust men.” Which was fair. You did your best to look out for them as well. 

Jungkook hummed in response but didn’t speak. That didn’t surprise you. A man of few words, you knew he liked to have time to decide how he felt or what he wanted to say about things. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you announced, standing up. Jungkook nodded and leaned back into the couch. Was it a good thing that he didn’t seem nervous? 

Of course the moment you entered the bathroom, Courtney and Amiriah came bustling through the front door. Their loud chatter quickly halted when their eyes fell upon Jungkook lounging on your couch, legs spread and tattooed arm draped across the back of the couch. 

“Hey,” he greeted them with a grin and a nod of his head. 

“Oh, um, hi?” Courtney’s greeting was more of a question. 

“Where’s Y/N?” What Amiriah wanted to ask was how he even got into your dorm, but she didn’t want to be rude. 

“I’m here!” You shuffled into the room, giving your friends a little wave. “Jungkook wanted to hang out here for a change.” 

The boy quirked his eyebrow at you and gave you an amused smile, noticing how you’d made it sound like it was his idea when it most certainly had been yours. Not that it bothered him. If anything, he wanted you to deflect onto him. He’d told you he could take anything you needed to give him, and he’d meant it. 

Jungkook got up from his seat and walked over to the three of you, hands in the front pockets of his jeans. The pose made his biceps and chest more prominent, and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment. God, he was too pretty. 

“I feel bad it’s the first time I’m finally meeting you,” he said in a warm voice. “Y/N never shuts up about how great you two are. Pretty sure I’ve heard the story of The Great Edible Debacle at the Dolph concert about fifty times.” 

You were shocked by how charming he was being. Really laying it on thick. 

“That is a horrible story to be telling people, Y/N! What the fuck,” Amiriah said with a laugh. “We’re only a little bit insane.” 

“And stupid,” Courtney chimed in. 

The four of you continued your bantering as you lounged around the living room, snacking on some food your roommates had brought as leftovers from their sorority meeting. Jungkook fit into the conversation rather neatly, talking a lot more than you’d expected, but still knowing when to sit back and let the girls dominate the conversation. He sat with his arm around your waist, keeping you close but not dipping into any PDA, knowing it would bother you if he did. 

The conversation came to a pause when Jungkook’s phone began to ring, all three pairs of eyes pointed in his direction. 

“Ah, fuck. Tae’s calling me,” he mumbled. “I’ll be right back.” As he stood up, he cupped your face for a moment, running his thumb across your cheek before he was bringing his phone to his ear. 

“Hyungie, what’s up?” Jungkook stepped out into the hallway, closing the front door behind him. 

“Girl, are y’all fucking?!” Amiriah leaned forward with a harsh whisper, excitement dancing in her bright eyes. 

“We’re dating, actually.” 

Courtney let out a squeal, bouncing on her knees where she sat on a pillow on the floor, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. “I knew it, I totally knew it.” 

“I’m gonna admit, weird or not, that man is foine now that I’m seeing him up close.” Amiriah loudly sucked her teeth and shook her head. “He’s got that snatched little waist. And those thighs? He could smash a watermelon.” 

“Okay, okay, but we gotta ask the REAL question here.” Courtney was now plopping down on the couch between you and Amiriah, blanket still in tow. “Did he eat it right?? In the words of Nicki Minaj, do he got good form??” 

You slapped Courtney on the arm in protest, but you were grinning as you spoke. “I almost started crying, it was so good.” 

“WHEW girl, stop it,” Amiriah grabbed your arm and shook it. “Are you willing to share? For charity?” 

Before you could scold your friend for trying to get her hands on your man, Jungkook returned. The shift in the room’s atmosphere was palpable, and the way Courtney and Amiriah watched Jungkook with new interest was almost too obvious. 

He gave you a confused smile as he squeezed onto the couch next to you. 

“So, Jungkook,” Amiriah began and you prayed to God she wouldn’t say anything stupid. “You said you heard stories about us, but we didn’t talk about all the fun things we’ve heard about you!” 

You shot your friend a glare but she was already on a roll with Courtney on her heels. 

“Yeah, we’ve heard all about your poetry,” Courtney added. 

You don’t think your roommates were prepared for the low chuckle that rumbled from Jungkook nor for the dark look in his eyes as he turned to you. He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, and you silently pleaded with him to behave. 

“Yeah, I was trying to give Y/N a preview of what she could be getting.” 

“Jungkook,” you gasped and your friends started talking all at once, but all you could focus on was the way your boyfriend was smirking at you, his tongue playing with his lip ring how he knew you liked. 

He leaned into you, his lips ghosting your ear and sending goosebumps up your arms as he whispered, 

“Just wait until you come over tonight.”

Living with Jungkook meant living with the constant smell of paint. Sure, you only just moved in together less than a week ago, but that was certainly long enough to know. And you were already finding little splatters on the floor and in the kitchen sink.

Living with Jungkook also meant that you were required to use the word magnets on the refrigerator to write him a poem every morning, just like he was going to write one for you. This was established as a house rule while the two of you discussed whether it would be a good idea to live together.

You thought the rules were going to be about who does the laundry, but you had to remember, this was Jungkook.

You tiptoed around the cardboard boxes full of all the stuff you two moved in with, but had yet to unpack. The hardwood floors glistened in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the flimsy blinds. Specks of dust glittered the air.

Jungkook was laying out a tarp in the entranceway of the apartment. An array of paint cans were placed around the tarp to hold it down.

“JK, what are you doing?” you inquired with your hands on your hips.

“Painting,” he said with a simple smile before turning back to his work. It was then that you noticed a large tray with fresh paint, and a variety of brushes sticking out of Jungkook’s pockets. 

“Here? This wall is the first thing people see when they walk in,” you pointed out. Leave it to Jungkook to start on a project before he’d even unpacked all his underwear. 

“That’s the point.” He didn’t look at you as he spoke, instead focused on mixing the color he wanted. 

You let out a small sigh. This man… 

“What are you going to do? Please, I beg of you, please do not paint genitalia of any kind.” It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your boyfriend’s artwork. You were obsessed with his creativity, actually. It was part of what made you fall for him. But there was no denying that he was… unconventional in his taste. 

Jungkook let out a chuckle, his nose scrunched up and his cute front teeth exposed. It was the laugh that meant he thought you were being ridiculous. 

“It’s gonna be something even better.” 

That was not reassuring at all. 

“Jungkook, my parents are coming to visit in a week!” 

Setting his brush down in silence, Jungkook extended his arm to hook a tattooed finger through the belt loop of your shorts. You begrudgingly let him pull you forward until you were pressed against his chest. Your arms circled his tiny waist and you forgot you were supposed to be annoyed with him when he started caressing your head, careful not to mess up your hair. 

“I’m gonna paint a mural of my muse,” he said in the wispy tone his voice took on when he was thinking through his plans. “That’s you, in case you didn’t know.” 

You lifted your head to look up at him, your chin resting on his chest. “No.” 

“What?!” 

“You are not putting up some kind of shrine for me in the middle of the apartment.” 

“Why can’t I let everyone know that I worship you?” Jungkook whined, letting go of you. You weren’t prepared to be set free, though, and you stumbled backwards. With wide eyes, Jungkook grabbed a handful of your shirt to stop you from falling, but it was too late. Your foot stepped directly into one of his open paint cans. 

“JUNGKOOK!” you shrieked, lifting up your foot to see gloopy red paint drip from your toes.

Jungkook’s cheeks grew puffy as he tried to hold in his laughter while he searched for his towels. It was a failed attempt, though, and you were glowering even harder as you watched the laugh come bursting from inside him. 

“I’m-,” Jungkook wheezed, holding out a paint-stained towel for you. He was laughing so hard his hand shook. “I’m s-sorry, baby, I-” 

He abruptly shut up when he felt your hand swipe his cheek and a thick liquid rolled down his neck. 

“That’s what you get for laughing at me!” you said with a wicked grin, admiring how you’d smeared paint all over the side of his face. 

Your grin slowly fell as you watched Jungkook lean down to drag his fingers through his tray of baby blue paint. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, pointing your finger at him. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Jungkook gave you the sweetest smile and reached for your legs. You felt his wet hands slide down your bare thighs and you shrieked again as he threw you over his shoulder. 

“Put me down! Kookie, you’re going to get paint all over the floor.” You gently beat his back with your fists, but your laughter made your actions less convincing. 

“Me? You’re the one ruining my painting area.” He tried brushing his bangs out of his eyes, but ended up smearing paint across his forehead and into his hair. “Now I have to clean my baby up.” 

You could hear the pout in his voice as he carried you down the hallway to the bathroom, dripping red and blue paint. The two of you were certainly going to leave your mark on this place.

@rkiveslibrary @mar-lo-pap

[flicklikesstuff]

Have you guys ever thought too hard about Crunchy Chip’s over-the-top avoidance of sweets? Because guess what?

I SURE did-

We all know that eating sweets in the Dark Cacao Kingdom isn’t as unforgivable as Chip makes it out to be. The citadel literally has some sweets stored that Fishgatto took in his benefit before.

Caramel Arrow’s fav drink is literally brown sugar milk tea (Like meeeee :D). Not even Dark Cacao himself is strict on it since he has given Chip a pass on the treats a number of times.

As far as I know, I believe no other Dark Cacao denizen is actually that strict on that rule? (I may be wrong idk)

So then, why is Chip like this?

…….

This is going into more theorising territory, but it’s been heavily implied that Chip has spent his entire life (if not ever since his childhood) in the wild. His voice lines point to this. He lives in the mountains, can set up camp by reflex, hunts with the pack, and overall just has a love for being outside.

Also, most likely raised by wolves even? I feel like his story below was meant to be about how he first met and was saved by Dark Cacao since it parallels the bit when Wildberry shares how he first met and is taken in by Hollyberry. While it’s not stated how old he was in that time, I’m going to assume somewhat young enough near Wild’s age if we’re seeing the two stories as parallels?

(After all, this sequence is meant to show why these two cookies are the best, most loyal options to be entrusted with their monarch’s soul jam. It makes sense to me that they’re parallels of a first-meet.

AGAIN, this is my interpretation only!! This story could really be taken as something else too.)

And I’ve been thinking. Assuming IF Chip has spent his childhood in the wild, he must’ve been isolated from cookie civilisation/cookie social circles for a period of time.

Until he was ‘saved’ and then taken in to train and become a warrior and Cream Wolf Captain. With his childhood spent not growing up in a typical cookie home and instead, his heart being always in tune with the wild more, there’s bound to be some dissociation with his fellow Dark Cacaoians.

(This is also the guy who doesn’t know what a delegation is despite being a man in his mid 30s tops. Adding more into my theory that he’s somewhat detached from society.)

………..

Getting to the point, what if this isolation is the explanation? Chip has mentioned that his job has him needed at the kingdom’s borders, thus making him even more distant from other cookies.

And even then, the others even agree so that his rightful place and the place he’s most expected to be in, is in the mountains.

Not saying that this is a bad thing. Not at all! He loves his job. I’m sure Chip loves being in the mountains with his wolves. He’s mentioned how he’s missed and is fully content being there a bunch.

It’s just that…. Does he ever feel a longing to belong? After all, it’s an ingrained thing to desire connections. Not just with the wolves but also, with his very own people too. Does not growing up among other children cookies just like his other fellow warriors had, ever get to his head sometimes?

Does it ever make him feel….isolated and distant in a sense?

Unless, this could be fixed of course. He could really, really, really commit to the values every warrior should have. And Discipline is one of them! If he’s dedicated to the bit, then he could convince himself that he truly does belong and IS a Dark Cacao warrior.

He’ll prove it if he must! To the king, to the others, to himself!

He feels the need to greatly appeal and prove to Dark Cacao so much that he does have a place in this kingdom after all. Why wouldn’t he? He’s kept strict to every rule and expectation, right??

If we consider that the theory he grew up isolated in the wild as a kid could be true, this means Chip has felt like an outsider ever since he could remember.

Being a Dark Cacaoian by blood/jam. But at the same time, still not fitting in. Its tough. (Not projecting nope.)

Btw, this may or may not reminded me of someone else….

Mr. “Would rather be in the silence of the Royal Gardens than loud-ass parties and talking and I’m fully aware how weird that sounds coming from a Hollyberrian cookie.”

*coughs coughs*

Totally not spreading my Wildchip propaganda but I just thought it’d be neat if they talk about how they love their respective kingdoms and would die to serve them but also-also, it lowkey feels weird and kinda hurts to not actually fit in with your own fellow cookies. Also WHAT, you’re an orphan adopted by your Ancient too???

………….

So anyways, I probs dug too deep into what should’ve been a comedic trivial thing of a character and made it into a mini sad-fest. Whups.

Though, it could also be simply that Chip’s just really dedicated while silly about it buuuuuuuut, that’s not as fun to analyse.

TLDR: “I didn’t have normal childhood like other cookies so I sometimes feel like not truly belonging but that’s not true because I DEFINITELY am a Dark Cacao Warrior and I can prove it by overcommitting to the bit.”

Btw, Happy late Bday Crunchy Chip <3 🎉💖

[iamthatonefangirl]

miss possessive part 2 - congressman bucky barnes

thank you all so much for the love on part 1 of this. i love you all so much you are literally my motivation to keep writing. i hope part 2 does you all justice!

part 1

part 3

~~~

after the crash, Bucky was pissed off, to say the least. entirely at himself. 

Bucky should have sat on the passenger side, not you. he would have been completely unharmed. maybe if he’d reacted quicker, used his enhancements to pay more attention to his surroundings, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this position. 

he felt his heart drop to his stomach when he saw the blood dripping down your face after the crash. you were right next to him, within his reach all night, but he had to remind himself this wasn’t something he could have protected you from. it almost broke him. 

you were in an ambulance pretty soon after. your head hurt like a bitch; you were a little too focused on the searing pain to make out the words Bucky was saying to the first responders, telling them they had to let him ride with you in the ambulance. he was your husband, after all. 

wait, what? 

did you hear that correctly?

through the burning pain, you tried to keep a level head. it made sense that Bucky lied; it was the only way for him to come with you. but hell if it wasn’t embarrassing riding in this ambulance with him just staring at you the whole time. 

the paramedic was asking him a million questions that he didn't know the answers to. of course he didn't, he wasn't actually your husband.

you answer them.

yes, you had alcohol in your system. you’d just come from an event. how much? uncertain. 

yes, you were on medications. which ones? great, now Bucky gets to hear. 

no, no chance you’re pregnant. you’re sure. yes, you’re sure. 

“Bucky…” you mumble. 

“yes? what’s wrong?” 

“Bucky?” you repeat. okay, wow, suddenly you feel a lot worse.

the world goes dark.

~~~

to put it bluntly, this was insanely embarrassing.

the hospital staff think he's your husband, so he's allowed to stay. when you ask him to leave, he refuses to go anywhere.

hours later, after some stitches and a million scans of your head, you're left alone in the hospital bed. with Bucky still staring at you.

"you can go, you know," you tell him. "it's been a long fucking night. no reason to stay."

he grumbles under his breath, "not goin' anywhere."

you wish he would. watching him, sitting here with you in such a vulnerable state hurts your soul. he's here out of obligation. of course he cares. he would be heartless not to, and Bucky Barnes is anything but heartless.

but he doesn't care in the way you wish he would.

you wish he'd be the guy that looks for you, only you, all night at the gala. you wish he'd refuse to leave your side, never letting you out of his sight. you wish he would look at you all the time, not just when another man is taking you upstairs, not just when you've had your skull cracked.

you wish he'd be the one to whisk you away at the end of the night. you wish he had told you how pretty you looked tonight, because he's the only man you'd gotten all dolled up for.

tears spring to your eyes at the thought, so you turn back to face the ceiling and shut them before they can fall.

but he's still staring at you. he sees the change in your demeanor.

"what is it? what's wrong?" he asks, jumping to his feet to stand next to your bed.

you shake your head and lie through your teeth. "head hurts."

it's not a lie entirely, but. mostly.

you open your eyes to look at him, and he actually looks pained, as though he's the one in the hospital bed, not you. you backtrack, reassuring him that you're completely fine, it's fine, you're used to it. you're used to the pain.

suddenly, he looks confused. fuck, why are you the one complaining about your own issues? don't you remember the shit he's been through?

he's been through worse than you could ever imagine. stop fucking complaining.

"I'm fine, Mr. Barnes. go home."

he shakes his head in exasperation. you're so fucking stubborn, you know that? why won't you just let him do this for you?

he wonders a million different things. you got hurt while working for him, and he knows this isn't your ideal job, that it's only temporary. when he gets elected, he'll get a new assistant, and if he doesn't, then he won't need one anymore. he won’t need you anymore. 

of course he’ll always need you.

that was the deal that was agreed upon, but he can't fathom never seeing you again. especially not after he let you get hurt on his watch.

he wonders if you blame him for not doing enough, for not being enough to protect you from what happened. 

he knows you don't. doesn't help ease the feeling.

"stop calling me that," he says. he says it with a faint smile on his face, trying to maintain his composure. trying to bring a smile to your face.

he sees you roll your eyes at him, and how the action clearly disturbs the headache you have as you recoil from it.

he has to press. he has to do something, anything–

"I know you know my name. you said it in the ambulance," he begins to tease, smirking. 

it doesn't have the intended effect. he wanted to see you smile, see you laugh, but instead? instead, he's made you cry. 

you bring your hands to your face as you wipe the tears away. why can't he see how difficult this is for you? he has to know that you're stupidly in love with him, it's not that hard to recognize the longing in your eyes.

so no, you won't call him Bucky, because that makes it too real. it's way too close to home and you have to remind yourself that this is not and never will be anything more than a working relationship.

"please don't cry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he says, taking your hand in both of his. you look down to where he's touching you.

you're done for. your mind short circuits. you don't know if you should pull your hand away, or if you're going to cry, or what. your mouth speaks before you consciously make a decision.

"can you do me a favor?" you ask him, wiping your face with your free hand. "can you bring me my stuff?" you request, indicating to the large plastic bag in the corner of the room.

he releases your hand and steps away to grab it. you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. 

you pull your dress out of the bag and begin to inspect it.

a black, velvet, off-the-shoulder dress. sleek and classy for a professional event, but it still made you feel confident and desirable. you bought it specifically for tonight.

you bought it specifically with Bucky in mind.

god, you really are fucking pathetic, aren't you? you just wanted him to look at you and think you looked stunning. but that's stupid, and childish, and impossible.

you inspect the neckline of the dress where your blood spilled onto it. you try to rub out the spots covered in dust from the crash, and almost cry again at seeing all the snags in the fabric.

oh my god. somehow, the thought completely slipped your mind.

you look back up to Bucky and see your blood staining the crisp white fabric of his shirt. you recall now how he pulled you in after the initial crash that caused your injury. you ruined his shirt. 

"fuck, your suit, I'm so fucking sorry," you tell him, looking up to meet his gaze.

when you do, you see the same look in his eyes that you had seen before the crash. that look. why can't you place it?

you can't tear your eyes away from him. not now. no car crash can make you. because you feel like he can actually see you, like he doesn't see you as the mess of broken pieces that you are. like he genuinely sees you.

you're shocked when he looks away and sits on the side of the bed, facing you.

you're even more shocked when he reaches for the fabric of your dress and runs his fingers over it. you watch his lips part, as though to speak, before biting his tongue. it confuses you.

he tries again,

"I don't think I told you this, but you looked beautiful tonight."

no.

no, no, no. it's too much. what is he saying? is he trying to make you feel better after everything that's happened? or–

it's the elevator all over again, the limo all over again. is he seriously still on this? you'd completely forgotten about what that dipshit said about you, when suddenly he brings it up again, reigniting the pain and shame that came with Bucky having witnessed it.

"I don't care about what that man said in the elevator, okay? I thought I asked you to drop it," you bite. 

at first, he looks confused and almost hurt by your words, but pretty quickly he understands.

"no, that's not– I'm serious."

you shake your head at him, aggravating your headache all the same, but you don't care anymore. you can't deal with this anymore.

"stop-" you begin, but he cuts you off, standing from the bed and raising his voice.

"no! you stop. stop brushing me off. yes, I meant what I said, that you shouldn't listen to that asshole or any other idiot who can't see how perfect you are. but forget about that. right now, I'm trying to tell you something, and you're not listening."

that shuts you up for once.

with a much calmer tone and quieter voice, he continues, "I'm just trying to tell you that you looked beautiful tonight."

"yeah, and it doesn't fucking matter because–"

you pause, remembering you can't say it doesn't matter because he doesn't love you.

"–because I'm sitting in a hospital bed now, and I'm going to have a fucking scar on my forehead for the rest of my life, and no man in their right mind will think I'm beautiful then!"

"then maybe I'm not in my right mind," he says quietly. "because I will still think you're beautiful then."

the impact of his words are worse than the car crash. you're truly at a loss. he can't do this to you, he can't hurt you like this.

is it a game? is he messing with your emotions because he knows you're in love with him?

you want to believe it's not.

"even now, in this hospital bed, you're beautiful."

you can't help but let yourself believe him, because it's all you wanted to hear from him all night. so you do something rash. 

you reach for the collar of his shirt, pull him in close, and kiss him.

~~~

he was not expecting that. 

he wants to hold onto you with all his might, hold you to his chest for the rest of both of your lives. he wants to kiss you until you both forget where you're at, until you forget anyone else exists.

when he pulls back from you, you're prepared to get reprimanded and fired. you're ready for whatever it is that he's about to tell you. you force yourself to watch the look on his face, expecting the impending horror that's going to appear in his expression.

he looks between your eyes, scanning for any sense of pain or hesitation you may be feeling.

he kisses you again, and you let yourself melt into him. without breaking away, he moves onto the bed, laying next to you.

it's like a fever dream. you feel like you're on cloud nine, the happiest you've ever been in your entire life. this is all you've ever wanted.

you eventually have to pull back. this whole time, you've been letting your emotions run rampant, and you've conveniently forgotten about how shitty you feel, how tired you are.

you run your mouth before he can say anything.

"fuck, Bucky, I don't want to stop, but my head fucking hurts. I'm so tired," you say, shutting your eyes and letting your head relax into the pillow.

he runs his hand through your hair, careful not to disturb the bandaged cut on your hairline.

"want me to go?" he whispers.

you mutter out a 'no' and lean into his arm that wraps around you as your weariness takes over.

~~~

he holds you gently as you sleep. he may not be able to protect you from everything, but right here, right now? he can be here for you as you rest.

a nurse eventually comes in the room, and he begins to remove himself from your bed.

"don't worry about it, sir. just adding notes to her chart."

he sighs in relief.

"you're a good husband. a lot of the husbands I see around here... not so much."

husband. sure, it was a lie he told them so he could stay with you, to make sure he knew what was going on. that you were going to be okay. 

after everything, he never thought such a life would be in the cards for him. all those dreams and hopes were left in the century before. could he be a good husband? would you even have him, if he asked?

woah, okay, too early to be proposing, he reminds himself.

~~~

eventually, you come to, and the first thing you sense is the weight in the bed with you.

holy shit, you weren't dreaming? this wasn't just a concussion-induced hallucination?

you blink your eyes open, and there he is, staring at you like always.

"hi," you whisper.

"hi." he whispers back.

and then the searing pain shoots through your head, causing you to cry out in pain, clutching your face in your hands.

he almost freaks. seeing you in this kind of pain? you didn't deserve this. it should've been him, he's experienced it, dealt with it before. why couldn't it be him and not you?

he runs for a nurse.

thirty minutes later, the opioids kick in, and you feel light as a feather.

"Bucky?" you begin. he's seated in a chair immediately next to your bed.

"yes, sweetheart?"

your heart pounds in your chest. you're high on the drugs you've been given, and you can't help it when you smile and giggle at the pet name.

"call me that again," you whine, to which he chuckles.

"sweetheart? you like that?" he asks.

"like anything you do," you whisper. "so perfect."

the drugs put you back to sleep real quick.

~~~

it's been another day, and you're being discharged. Bucky still hasn't left your side once, and yet you haven't talked. you can’t let yourself talk about it, because you know that none of it was real. how could it be real? you were hurt, and he was trying to be there for you. 

you crossed the line by kissing him, and it was time for you to let go of your desperation. you had to let it go, and move on. move on from the job and him entirely. 

you anticipate his overbearingness in terms of ensuring you get in the door safely when you arrive home. you don't anticipate him telling you that he intends to stay.

"Mr. Barnes, it's okay, I can take care of myself," you assure him.

you see the annoyance on his face.

"aren't we past this by now?" he asks you.

he sits down on the couch next to you, very closely, right up against you. he brings a hand to your face to turn you to look at him.

you lick your lips. "Bucky."

you watch him for a second, and you wish the look in his eyes was real. 

“Bucky, I quit,” you whisper. he clearly was not expecting you to say that, because he pulls away from you. you mourn the loss of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body near yours. but you're doing what needs to be done. 

“you can’t quit. I’m not– it’s not–”

“I have to quit, Bucky,” you explain to him. “I can’t do this. not anymore, it’s too much.” 

he begins to plead with you, “what? what is too much?”

“you,” you admit to him.

he doesn't understand.

"fuck, I just can't do this. because I love you, and I just can't..."

"I love you."

you're stunned into silence. no, of course he doesn’t…

he moves closer to you. 

“don’t quit because you think this was a fluke, or because you think I was just trying to make you feel better while you were in the hospital. I meant all of it. you are perfect, and beautiful.”

he puts his hands back on your face, gently, rubbing a thumb over the carefully stitched cut near your hairline. 

“please,” he whispers, and you can’t believe that he’s sitting with you, in your apartment, telling you all the words you’ve ever wanted him to say. “I love you. please.”  

you nod, and all the pain goes away as he pulls you in close and kisses you. 

~~~

“didn’t like seeing that idiot putting his hands on you in the elevator,” he whispers into your ear later that night. 

you lean back into his arms wrapped around your waist as you lay in bed.

“oh, please. you had that woman all over you, just begging you to fuck her,” you retort. 

“jealous, sweetheart?” he teases. 

“oh, please, you started it,” you laugh. 

“don’t worry about her. could only ever want my girl.” 

~~~

i really want to write smut for them or like another part so lmk if i should

part 1

part 3

masterlist

join my tag list

tagged:

@starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @ijustwantcomfypjs @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @moncherriis @clavedelune

[lavenderhateswritting]

Mohawk!Mark x Reader

I was inspired by an amazing fanfiction on here that literally made my brain light up and I had to write my own version.

The entire world was on fire. The entire world was on fire and people who looked like your boyfriend were the ones destroying it. Jesus Christ Mark couldn't catch a fucking break.

There was nothing you could do. You weren't a hero you were just a normal person. You were just going to have to hunker down and wait for the carnage to end.

You were laying in your bed watching the news on your phone when you heard the front door creak open. That wouldn't make any sense though. Mark was out there fighting his duplicates and everyone else you knew were trying their hardest to stay out of the way of the destruction.

"Babe, please come here I need you." It was Mark. His voice was strained and he drew out the words like he was whining. This wasn't right. Mark wasn't supposed to be home yet.

You grabbed your phone and began to pull yourself off the bed.

"Mark love are you okay?" You screamed to him. If he was coming to you something had to be very wrong. Something in your somach was telling you this was all very wrong.

"I just need you. I need you so bad. Please." His voice was airy, but less strained this time like he had just gotten a boost of energy out of nowhere.

You reached your hand toward the doorknob of your bedroom and froze. Your phone buzzed. Mark had just texted you. You clicked on the message your breath speeding up as you did.

Mark: You need to get out of the house right now.

Your heart rate began to pick up. You could feel it hammering in your ear. You were fucked.

"Babe. Please open the door I need you right now please." The fake Mark began again he was closer to the door now maybe standing directly in front of it.

Mark: The duplicates they went to my house

Mark: They might come to your apartment

Mark: You need to leave NOW

You couldn't pretend like you weren't there he had already heard your voice. You needed to buy yourself time. If you could make it to the bathroom attached to your room you could maybe make it out of the window. You couldn't out run him. Time all you needed was time.

"Mark hun I'm gonna grab a towel for your injuries and then I'll be right there for you okay." You were walking toward the bathroom now. You're rushing as much as you can. He still thinks you're worried about him you running shouldn't throw him off to much.

"Who just texted you." His voice was normal now. Not normal like your Marks. It was scratchier and serious in a way that made a chill run down your spine.

"Just my mom. She wanted to check on me, you know with everythig going on right now." You were walkng into the bathroom now. You closed the bathroom door behind you and then locked the door.

Your hands were sweating as you grabbed on to the edge of the window sill. You were pushing the window up as far as you could while your arms were shaking.

You heard the door to your bedroom begin to creak open. He was getting closer. You needed to go now. You had finally opened the window as far enough for you to climb out. You hoisted yourself onto the window sill as you began to climb out head first out of the window.

All of a sudden you heard the sound of your bathroom door being ripped off the hinges. You were half way out the window and you tried for one last push to get out when a hand grabbed your leg.

"As much as I appreciate the view you're gonna have to get your ass back in here. Baaaabe." His grip tightened on your leg as you felt yourself be pulled back into the window.

As soon as you saw him you understood. There was no way he could have convinced you he was your Mark if you had seen his face. He had shaved his head into a mohawk and had grown a soul patch as well. His eyes had dark spots under them that your mark didn't have either.

You were laying flat on your back while he held one of your legs off the ground. He was staring down at you with a crazed look in your eye that your Mark would never have had.

"I could hear you you know. Every heartbeat, breath, and swallow. You were fucked before this had even started." He was smiling at you as he spoke he finally let go of your leg. You kicked at him as he finally let go of you and felt yourself be met with a brick wall. You knew Mark was strong, but never once in your life had you thought that you would have to be on this side of that strength.

"Are you gonna kill me." You finally asked as your voice shook. You needed to find a way around him, but he was completely blocking you into the corner of your bathroom.

"Now why would I do that gorgeous." He was floating a foot off the ground leaning down to mock you. "I mean look at you why would I leave such a fine specimen in this shit heap of a dimension."

You finally began to pull yourself up to fully standing. "I'm not going anywhere with you. You absolute psycho." Oh god this was gonna break Marks heart if he had to find your dead body. What was he going to tell your family?

His smile got even bigger if that was even possible. "oh well look at you a brave final front against the big scary monster huh." He suddenly grabbed you by the waist and pulled you flush against his body.

He pulled you in closer and his lips were on yours. He was rough like he was trying to fight you. He bit your bottom lip and you gasped in pain. He used your suprise and forced his tongue into your mouth.

If it was possible he pulled you closer like he was trying to swallow you into himself. He was like a man starved. You tried to push him off, but he was like a wall he didn't give. He reached one of his hands down to your waist and another up behind your head and pulled you even closer to him.

The edges around your eyes were starting to blur. You needed to breathe, but he didn't and he wouldn't let up it was like he couldn't breathe without you.

Finally he pulled his tongue out of your mouth a line of spit connecting his mouth to yours.

"God do you feel that can you feel how much I missed you babe more than anyone else." You could feel how much he missed you or whatever version of you he remembered. His hard on was pushing against your crotch solid and warm.

"I'm not your Y/N. I don't know you please just let me go." You were out of breath and could still feel your brain trying to come back online.

"That's okay. You'll get to know me I'm like your Mark, but so much better." He pulled the hand that was on your head forward and began holding your face.

Through the window some weird robot floated in.

"Really Angstrom you couldn't have picked a better time." He was angry now gritting his teeth before he finally let you go.

"I'll be back for you don't you worry." And then you were all alone in your bathroom with a broken door shaking all over. You finally collapsed on your knees. God you hope Mark killed all of those fuckers.

[knnichs]

𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡

when does he realize he’s fallen inlove with you?

c. cyno, kinich, thoma, kaveh, ga-ming, zhongli, scara/wanderer, xiao

t. might be slightly ooc as this is a multicharacter hc, friends to … to friends LOL, fluff, wc 0.4k

as always, author notes at the end!

He realizes it when you are laughing along with him. The two of you hanging off the top of the cliff of a mountain that took hours to climb, sitting on the edge of the plank platform and feeling the wind glide across your hair. He smiles—looking at you with eyes filled with nothing but adoration. He slips a silent thank you for joining him, in this spontaneous hiking trip, for just being with him at this very moment. He loves you more than you’ll ever know, but he won't be able to say that outright no matter how hard he tries, often shoving those feelings down his throat in hopes that you would stick around a little more. Because what would happen if you ended up not feeling the same way? He’d rather have you with him, as a friend, than nothing at all.

cyno, kinich

You find yourself often helping him out with his daily errands for the day. You know it’s exhausting for him, carrying crate after crate, negotiating with the merchants, doing something after another. Your presence alone in these seemingly mundane tasks makes him look forward to these silly things that he once viewed as tiresome. He gets a few hours with you by his side, chatting about everything and nothing, smiling about the stupid things you see along your way—this one is just any regular day for you, but when accompanied with the racing of his heart as he sees you happy being with him, it's certainly a special day for him. One that he’ll treasure, deep in his heart.

thoma, kaveh, ga-ming, zhongli

He claims that it’s nothing. All your attempts at getting close with him, your frequent invites to go somewhere and coincidentally losing the third ticket that was supposed to be for your other friend, you insisting that you stay with him until the sun goes down—no matter where the two of you were. He knows it means something, but he doesn't want to be the one at fault for plain out assuming you liked him. I mean, out of everyone, you really chose him? He says to himself that he'd do his best to show his disinterest, hoping that would stray you off and make you rethink your decisions. He doesn’t act on that thought in the end, finding your presence much better than whatever the wind has to say. It’s too soon to tell you that he loves you anyway.

scaramouche/wanderer, xiao

@ knnichs 2023 ﹑ do not repost, republish, translate, feed to ai or modify any of my works. doing so can and will result into me blocking you.

oh brother i was debating if i should put sethos up on the first one… if you want to you can actually pretend that his name is on the list since i was ABOUT to do it anyway HELP !!! ANYWAY i have a volleyball tournament for the next two days ,, if we win then there will be another vb!reader post soon . other than that i really miss writing for the women of genshin impact sigh. i miss navia. i miss furina. i miss hu tao. i might make a part 2 girl kisser edition,, I REALLY WANT TO !!!!1!!! itll be so much cuter id literally pour my entire soul into it.. ANYWAY see you folks ill be back again soon with a better fic for the network & even more vb au,, my inbox will be open for brainrots & chatting and u can even drop in a request if you want, ill see if i can do it !!

[spitefulsatanfics]

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞...

— by little devil 🕯️

pairing: castiel x she/her reader

tone: angelic awkwardness, holy fluff, tragic beauty, tender devotion

genre: canon-compliant headcanon list told through mini fanfiction scenes

rating: pg-13 for themes of eternity, gentle touches, and celestial simping

synopsis: loving an angel isn’t like loving a person—it’s like being seen for the first time in your whole damn life.

🌌 Endless, Unwavering Staring

You’ve asked him why he does it. The staring.

He tilts his head, confused.

“You are… captivating,” he says. “I’m literally brushing my teeth, Cas.” “Yes. I am aware.”

No matter the time, the place, or the state of your bedhead, Castiel stares at you like you are the only thing keeping the universe from crumbling. And maybe—just maybe—you are.

📿 That Old Testament Flavor of Devotion

He doesn’t love like a man. He loves like a declaration.

“I would fall again,” he says, quiet, sure. “For you. If Heaven demanded otherwise—I would choose you.”

You freeze, soup spoon halfway to your mouth.

“Cas. I’m just sick. You don’t have to make it biblical.”

But that’s the thing. With Castiel, everything is.

☁️ Trying to Teach Him Pop Culture with Deeply Mixed Results

“That is… a SpongeBob.” “Correct!” “He lives in a fruit?” “Technically a sea sponge in a pineapple under the sea, yeah.” “This is absurd.” “…You love it.” “…I do.”

He once recited “the Krabby Patty secret formula is love” during a demon interrogation. Dean still hasn’t recovered.

🕰️ Being Gently Out of Step with Time but Always on Time for You

He doesn’t sleep, doesn’t eat, doesn’t really understand mortality.

But somehow, he always knows when your hands start shaking, when the nightmares hit, when the weight of everything becomes too much.

“You do not need to be strong tonight,” he murmurs, wrapping his coat around you. “Just rest. I will carry it for now.”

🕊️ Accidentally Saying the Most Romantic Things in the Universe

Like, he really doesn’t mean to go so hard. He’s just… built that way.

“I studied your soul once,” he tells you one night, voice low and reverent. “It’s brighter than anything I’ve seen in Heaven.”

You: 🧍‍♀️ Also you: dead on the floor, heart exploded, ascended to the astral plane

🔥 Moments of Terrifying, Blazing Power—But He’ll Never Hurt You

When Cas is angry, the air changes.

Demons scatter. Lights flicker. The Earth holds its breath.

But when he looks at you?

His hands shake, soft and unsure, wings tucked in like he’s afraid of brushing against your light.

“Even at my most powerful,” he whispers, “you make me feel… human.”

🥪 Trying Human Things Just Because You Like Them

He doesn’t need food. But when you offer him a bite of your sandwich, he takes it.

Chews.

Blushes.

“This is... pleasant.” “It’s grilled cheese, babe.” “Then I would like… more grilled cheese. With you.”

He eats it awkwardly, angelic hands too big for the plate, and you have never loved anyone more.

📖 Reading Scripture and Lore with You—and Occasionally Correcting It

He reads over your shoulder, brow furrowed.

“That’s… not accurate.” “What, this Latin exorcism?” “No, the depiction of Uriel. He wasn’t nearly that tall. Or kind.” “Cas, it’s fanfiction.” “It is… fanfiction of Heaven?” “Yeah. And apparently Gabriel's hot now.” “…He will be insufferable when he finds out.”

🌿 Flowers Left in Strange Places

He doesn’t buy bouquets. He materializes them.

Sometimes it’s a single daisy on your dashboard. Sometimes an entire garden blooms outside your motel room.

“I thought you needed… beauty.” “Cas. You made tulips grow in the carpet.” “Do you like them?” “…Yeah, actually.”

💬 Deep Conversations at Inconvenient Hours

You: half-asleep at 2am Cas: watching the ceiling

“Y/N, do you believe fate can be rewritten?” “Cas it is literally 2—” “If I was made for obedience… then why do I desire free will with you?” “…Okay hang on let me get tea.”

🕯️ Making You Feel Like a Living Prayer

When Castiel touches you—your hand, your cheek, your waist—it’s not just affection. It’s reverence.

“You are not just a person to me,” he confesses, voice low. “You are… a beacon. Something sacred.”

You’ve been many things. But never sacred. Until now.

🌟 Wings Unfurled Only for You

You ask him to show you once. He hesitates.

“They are… damaged.” “So am I,” you reply. “Doesn’t mean I’m not beautiful.”

He unfolds them in the dark—burned, broken, glorious.

You swear you can feel them against your skin like the warmth of a dying star.

𓆩☁️𓆪 Castiel loves like cathedral bells in the distance, like the hush after prayer, like starlight on skin.

He does not know how to love halfway. He only knows forever. And he chose you.

𓆩☁️𓆪

[literatureloverx]

Would BSD men sacrifice their true love for the sake of the world, or would they let the world burn?

I know you are on a break for a while, so feel free to reply any time you feel like replying. However, I do sincerely wish you are resting properly and eating well. You are being missed and appreciated, our dearest Snow White, who is as beautiful and graceful as her name!

-🛵🌻

Awww, you’re flattering me, 🛵🌻-anon! Thank you so much. ♥️ Please forgive me for keeping some of these brief without much explanation—I’m still unwell. 🥺♥️

Please keep in mind that my requests are actually closed! I made an exception because this one intrigued me.♥️

Would BSD men sacrifice their true love for the sake of the world, or would they let the world burn?

Featured characters: Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Nikolai Gogol, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke.

BSD MEN x fem!reader

I know this might surprise many of you, but I believe FYODOR might actually be capable of sacrificing the world for his darling. While we don’t know much about him, we do know he is intensely focused on his singular goal and unwaveringly confident in it. However, love is unpredictable—it can make even the most logical person act irrationally. Fyodor, being a semi-canon yandere and canonically willing to gift his darling an entire country as a Valentine’s Day present, shows that he could prioritise his darling in unexpected ways.

Though he is detached and calculative, this doesn’t necessarily mean his obsession lies solely with his ideal world and not his darling. His perception of love likely wouldn’t be romantic or warm—after all, this is Fyodor we’re talking about—but that doesn’t make it any less consuming. If he were to sacrifice the world, it would likely appear to be a practical, impersonal decision on the surface, though it would stem from deeply personal feelings.

Of course, his darling would have to bear the burden of being his weakness, paying the price for making him burn the world down for her.

DAZAI doesn't see a reason to live and has a complicated inner moral compass —if he even has one at all. If he were to find another reason to live beyond his darling, he might let the world burn to protect that purpose. Otherwise, he would likely choose to sacrifice his darling along with himself, as he would want to die together with them.

In doing so, he would simultaneously honour Odasaku's dying wish to save innocent people and do good, while also fulfilling his own desire for a double suicide—albeit in a twisted and tragic way.

CHUUYA… my beloved Chuuya. He would sacrifice you for the sake of the world, but not without crying his heart out in the process. He’s someone who carries his heart on his sleeve, no matter how much he tries to mask it with his tough exterior. This decision wouldn’t just break him—it would shatter him. He’d be haunted by the memory of what he’d done, the sound of your voice, your smile, and the warmth you brought into his life.

After that, he would never be the same. Chuuya, with all his passion and fire, would lose a part of himself—his joy, his light, and perhaps even his will to keep going. Though he wouldn’t let the world burn for you, his sacrifice would scorch his soul in ways no one else could see. He would shoulder the weight of the decision, carrying it like an eternal wound, always hidden beneath his bravado.

I don’t believe he has it in him to let the entire world burn just to keep you. Chuuya’s sense of duty, his unwavering commitment to the people he cares for, and his understanding of the bigger picture wouldn’t allow him to prioritise one life over billions. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t destroy him. Deep down, he’s just a man with a heart far too big for the world he lives in.

Yet, in his own way (or maybe even literally), he would die the day you did. Perhaps he would let himself waste away, quietly fading from the world as he lost the only person who made it feel like home. Or perhaps he would go out in a blaze of fury, throwing himself into battles he knew he wouldn’t return from. Either way, the Chuuya you knew—the one who loved you with all his being—would be gone, leaving only a shadow of the man who once was.

NIKOLAI is an obsessive individual, deeply scarred by trauma, pain, and mental instability. He would undoubtedly let the world burn for his darling. Despite his philosophical outlook, which claims to encompass all of humanity, his approach is ultimately rooted in his own personal experiences and inner struggles. At the end of the day, everything is about him.

His so-called friendship with Fyodor is a prime example of this—he clings to it not because Fyodor is a fascinating person in his own right, but because he believes Fyodor is the only one who truly understands him. Not once have we seen Nikolai genuinely reflect on Fyodor’s goals or thoughts. Similarly, his darling would need to be someone who both understands and cherishes him, which would inevitably drive his romantic obsession with her.

There’s no chance Nikolai would sacrifice his darling for anything. However, after letting the world burn for her, would he ultimately kill her because she understands him better than even Fyodor? The possibility is disturbingly high.

Before meeting the ADA Dazai and Atsushi, AKUTAGAWA would likely have let the world burn for his darling without hesitation. His overwhelming need for validation, coupled with his devotion to those he holds dear, would drive him to extreme lengths, prioritising his personal attachments above all else. His harsh upbringing and struggles for survival have made him fiercely protective of those who matter to him, making it plausible that he would abandon the world for his darling’s sake.

However, after his experiences with Atsushi, Akutagawa would find himself in a moral dilemma. These encounters push him to question his black-and-white worldview, challenging him to consider the value of broader ideals like justice, compassion, and sacrifice for the greater good. His budding respect for Atsushi and his complex, unresolved feelings toward Dazai would weigh heavily on his conscience, creating an internal struggle.

While he may still feel a deep, almost obsessive desire to protect his darling at any cost, the lessons he’s learned would make him pause.

[corevibeself]

Let Me Slap You In The Face (PAC)

Not literally... HAHA!

Here is the reality check reading from the recent poll I posted. Sorry, it took so long to post. I have been busy with school. Thank you for voting; hope you enjoy a slap in the face

Let me relay the message: This isn't to hurt you! I make sure my delivery is tinged with a bit of humour, but I will say, this is for people who are open to self-empowerment and won't see this as an attack, because the reality of it is, we've all got shadows; we've all got things we do that we want to change. The key is not identifying yourself with the parts you don't prefer; you are so much more than just what you see as flaws. This is never done to shame anyone; my intent is always out of the kindness of my heart and soul. If I do end up coming across that way, apologies in advance; I'm still learning how to communicate non-aggressively; I have Pluto in Scorpio in the 3rd house, HAHAHA.

I'll be using the Rebel deck for their straightforward messages and looking at some shadow aspects of my oracle cards. Enjoy the reality check, HAHA!

Pile 1

Ooooh girl, okay—"Who Says" by Selena Gomez literally started playing in my head when I read your message. Specifically, the lyric, “Who says you’re the only one that’s hurting?” Go listen to that song—seriously. I think there are more lyrics in there that might resonate with you. It’s a meaningful track because it speaks directly to those negative beliefs we carry about ourselves, the ones that hold us back.

You know—“I’m too fat to wear this,” or “I don’t think I can be as good as them.” That’s the kind of energy I’m feeling. But here’s the thing: those thoughts don’t matter. You’re not competing with anyone else. You’re only ever competing with who you are right now. The best version of you—it’s real, it’s possible, and it’s yours. But you’ve got to stop making excuses.

That doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t valid. They 100% are. But sometimes our emotions are rooted in beliefs that just aren’t true. And we don’t want those beliefs to rule our actions. Just because something feels true, doesn’t mean it is true. Every human being is worthy of love, of going after what they want, of being who they are. No exceptions. You were born on this planet as a good person. Anything negative you feel about yourself? That came from someone else. So start letting go of what isn’t truly you.

You already know who you are—because what you are feels good to you. Do you like crochet? Then you’re creative. That’s beautiful. That’s part of you. Maybe you’re sensitive and cry when you hear music—that’s a stunning trait. To connect so deeply with sound shows your open heart and your incredible receptivity. These are just examples, but what I'm trying to say is: change your perspective and see your worth, pile 1.

I do feel like there might be some victimization energy here, not because you’re weak, but because you don’t fully believe in yourself yet. It feels like you don’t think you’re capable of what others can do. But that’s not true, and that’s not the energy we want. What we want is self-empowerment. The universe isn't against you, Pile 1, and if it feels like it, shift your perspective. No, this isn't toxic positivity; we can acknowledge our sufferings and the negativity of the world, our pains and feelings, whilst still choosing to see the light. I choose to see the glass as half full, because I'd rather savor what’s there than mourn what’s missing. Do you realize that every setback or negative experience has shown you more of yourself? Yet you choose to run away from what it's shown you, from what needs healing, to hide in the comfort of what feels safer. At some point, the pain isn't even about the situation anymore; it's just self-inflicted. A shift in perspective is all it takes to change your entire worldview. If you think it will be hard, then it will be. If you think facing yourself, changing yourself, and being authentic and vulnerable is hard, ask why. You will start to see all the limitations you put on yourself.

It also feels like you might be someone who people-pleases. Maybe you hide your true feelings to avoid conflict or because you’re scared of being abandoned. I get it. But here’s the truth: you can respectfully express your feelings. It’s totally possible to communicate honestly and kindly. And if someone still walks away after you’ve been real with them? Then they weren’t meant for your honesty and vulnerability. But others will be. I promise.

Oh—and I got a specific message for someone who’s a tarot reader: if you tend to sugarcoat your readings because you’re afraid the truth will hurt someone, or they won’t want to hear it—don’t do that. You’re dishonouring your intuition and your craft. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to want to protect people. But when you filter your truth too much, you make it harder to be authentic—and you deprive others of the real magic of you.

Pile 2

I’m going to suggest you stay open-minded, Pile 2. I know you think you know everything down to the tea about a specific subject or situation — but babe, you don’t. And that’s totally fine. Sometimes, you need to make space for other perspectives.

And this is specifically for my chronically online babes: please, go outside and touch some grass. We are not meant to be consuming this much negativity every single day, and I feel like it’s messing with how you view the world and the people in it.

I fully believe we create our reality through our thoughts, emotions, intentions, etc. Maybe you don’t believe that, and that’s okay — but you have to admit that constantly taking in content that makes us feel like shit… dealing with people who dump their trauma on us… reading toxic comments… listening to fucked up internet stories… all of that affects you. More than you realize. It affects your brain, your thoughts, and your emotions. And yes, all of that spills into how you experience life, whether you are conscious of it or not.

And no, I’m not saying you can’t be sad, or angry, or human about things that are happening in real time in the world, or that you have to be ignorant, it's great that you care, but living in constant hypervigilance or walking on eggshells isn't fun either so there needs to be a balance.

I’d also say to bring awareness to your emotions. Are you growing from them? Or are you being suffocated by them and using them as a reason to act a certain way?

Social media creates a fear-based, warped version of reality that makes it hard to feel safe being yourself. Yes, there are dangers in the world. Yes, we should be aware and protect ourselves. But assuming the worst in everyone? That just creates a constant state of anxiety , you start to believe that’s what life is. That’s all there is.

You might even be someone who unintentionally projects that negativity onto others. One example I’m getting is like… an online debate or argument. And I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid — they are — but make sure you’re not matching someone else’s energy if they’re coming at you sideways. It’s not worth it. Not everyone’s going to believe in what you believe in. Not everyone thinks the way you do. It sucks, but people are the way they are for a reason.

If we were all the same, we wouldn’t grow — we wouldn’t even know who we are. And yeah, that includes the “bad” people we meet. But what if you started seeing those people and situations as an opportunity to learn more about yourself, instead of trying to change them or control how they think? You’d be helping your own growth, and naturally attracting the people who do vibe with you.

Life’s not about changing others — you can’t force that. But you can become the highest version of yourself. And when you do that? You’ll inspire others just by being you. Through your kindness. Through loving yourself and forgiving others, not for them, but for you.

People hate when I say forgiving, as if I'm asking you to forgive their actions, no. I'm asking you to forgive yourself for letting their actions take a toll on you.

So yeah. Be more open-minded. Not saying you’re not, Pile 2, but on certain things… you’re kind of closed off. And when we really believe we’ve got something all figured out, we stop ourselves from growing.

I’m picking up on this mindset: “I’m thinking this way because it’s right. This is wrong. These people are wrong. I know I’m doing what’s right.” And trust me, I’m all for following your inner compass — but ask yourself:

Does it feel light? Does it drain me? Do I feel empowered?

That’s your real answer.

Pile 3

Like, literally, stop obsessing. It doesn’t matter as much as you think it does, and you’re just purposely making your life harder than it actually is because of some unhealed shit that you're aware of — but you either distract yourself or lie to yourself to make yourself feel better. When in actuality, your body and mind and heart are begging to be in sync with each other.

I think you tell yourself things to make your situation feel better than it actually is — like, not delulu in a good, empowering way — you're delulu in a way that is controlling and limits your potential as a person. You like things to be your way, which is fine, but has your way been working out for you? Or are you still dealing with the same old habits or situations, and emotions that keep popping up?

It just feels like the energy of someone who thinks they got their shit together — and you do — but it’s too much. You're not letting yourself breathe. You're not hearing your heart out. You're afraid of facing all of what you've pushed down, in fear that it will be too overwhelming to feel.

Like, please, feel your feelings and emotions instead of intellectualizing them and telling yourself that everything is fine when it's not. It's okay not to be okay. It's okay to feel like you don't want to plaster a smile, or do that assignment, or show up to work with the best energy. It's okay to not be as confident in your situation. It's okay to just be in a state of shitty emotions — because they are there to be acknowledged, not pushed down or told that there's a solution.

Your emotions don't need a solution; they need to be felt.

Find a moment, close your eyes, and feel. Where is the emotion? Is it a physical sensation — a tightness in the chest, heavy shoulders? Focus on it. Breathe in it. Let yourself be present.

I just remembered this quote, so maybe this is for you: "When we constantly think about the why — why did this happen, why, why, why — we’re trying to regain a sense of control over situations that were never meant to be controlled." This is a coping mechanism, a fear of failure, a fear of not doing enough, not being enough. BUT YOU ARE. No amount of external shit will heal the internal, NO AMOUNT. You don't have to do certain things to be seen as worthy, you don't have to have a whole load of money, or perfect confidence or whatever it is you tell yourself you need to have or the way your life needs to look. Ask yourself, when I think of my life and what I want, is it from a place of fear? of lack?

"If I don't have this, I won't be whole."

But you are whole as you are, and you struggle to see or feel that.

You need to become more comfortable with not having your shit together, because most of it comes from major anxiety issues that will impact your health, babes. Like, seriously, consider sitting with chaos a bit.

You also have great intuition, so I already know that you know you're not treating yourself the best. You're aware that you're controlling — even if just subconsciously — and I bet you can just feel how tired and exhausted your body is. So listen to that.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

FINALLY I'M SO GLAD I COULD FINISH THIS POST., Hope y'all enjoyed my hand swiping across your face in the most brutal manner possible, jkjk hehehe

[6gumi]

breathless.

synopsis ﹒jjk men giving you surprise kisses gone wrong (GONE SEXUAL!) that’s it. that’s the fic

pairings ﹒toji fushiguro, yuuta okkotsu, yuuji itadori, satoru gojo x f!reader

cw ﹒a little suggestive. not proofread (oops), makeout sessions kinda?, yuuji + yuuta aged up! slight vaginal fingering involved, dirty talk, petnames used ! (princess, baby, etc etc) you guys literally just make out n it goes wrong . . . do i need to say more ? <3

note ﹒sm thoughts sm thoughts sm thoughts !!! yuuji’s is the only fluff n innocent one LMFAO feel free 2 interact w me by sending an ask ! i’m still trying 2 finish up my requests so please be patient and know that only thirsts r open for now <3 — millie ! ♡

୨୧ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

toji always loved teasing you, especially during makeout sessions you both would have occasionally. he does a lot and i mean a lot of things to tease you during them too, it’s unfair! he loved it whenever you had your arms crossed infront of him, eyebrows furrowed while you lectured him for his laziness. he merely just chuckled at your attempts to tell him off for being such a lazy jerk, slowly closing the distance between both of you. you can’t blame him, can you? it’s not like you wanted him to stop either.. it’s crazy how your voice and that irritated look in your eyes left him feeling light-headed. before he knew it, toji you in his arms, holding you just a little too tight. “hey! let go of me, toji. ‘m not finished saying what i wanna say—“ and.. there he goes again. a deep groan left him as his lips traced each inch of your neck, his entire body clenched as he grabbed your wrist. toji’s other hand buried itself in your hair, caressing and pulling at it from the back, interlocking his lips with yours..

god.. your makeout sessions always begin this way, but honestly you didn’t really complain. toji ran his hand up your body, wrapping it around your neck as she squeezed it lightly.. careful not to hurt you too much. his lips on yours was the sweetest torture you had ever felt in your whole life, your heart pounding against your chest at a furious pace as he held you closer to him, not letting go of you anytime soon. “sorry, doll. what’d ya say earlier? too busy kissin’ these pretty lips of yours.” “oh great, and you weren’t even listening too?” the raven just shrugged, a smug expression painted on his face. “dunno, just wanted t’kiss your lips, you talk too much princess.. needed to shut you up.” gosh, you could’ve sworn you felt a vein popping out of your forehead out of frustration, is this guy for real? “mm.. can i continue kissing your lips?” was all he said, a low sigh leaving your lips before you waited for him to kiss you again. “oh no baby, not these lips. i mean the other ones.” oh yeah, expect yourself to be breathless after this.. kisses or not!

୨୧ 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐔

yuuta can’t help it! he couldn’t help but admire you the whole time you rambled about a weird first interaction you had with his companion toge inumaki and how hard it was to understand him! thank the lord you didn’t even notice just how intensely his eyes stared at you, as if they were digging daggers into your soul. this is probably a constant thing for him, i feel like yuuta likes giving you shy surprise kisses out of nowhere! and sometimes, he can’t even control his body and they just smooooch your lips, atleast.. that’s what he says! he can’t help but grin every single time he sees that flustered expression on your face after he catches you off guard with his surprise kisses, he’s just trying to have after all. though sometimes he’s aware that, these “small yet shy surprise kisses” will turn into much more than what they seem. and you wanna know what they turn into? heated makeout sessions of course!

yuuta’s large hands rest on the nape of your neck, the other on your waist as he pushes you down the mattress with his weight, trying his best not to crush you completely with his body as his kisses were slow.. slow and passionate yet you knew that was gonna change in a few minutes or so, and you were right! in the blink of an eye, yuuta wraps his two hands beneath your thighs, lifting you up slightly so your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling the both of you closer and into a more passionate yet lustful embrace and kiss. the special grade sorcerer pulled away, chuckling when you puckered your lips a tiiny bit to taste his sweet lips on yours again, yuuta gave your jaw a small peck. “may i?..” the raven muttered under his breath.. lifting your skirt and tugging at the hem of your panties. just know that.. if you nod and say yes, oh boy. be prepared to stay up all night! those surprise kisses were a trap to kiss you until you were breathless!

୨୧ 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈

let’s see here.. to sum things up, yuuji loves giving you surprises kisses! and i mean loves it! he likes catching you off guard whenever he presses a kiss against you, your boyfriend gives you small little surprise kisses literally anywhere and everywhere, so much that you even have to tell him to tone down a bit because of how flustered you were! “but why, babe? i like kissing you..” he knew you liked it whenever he was affectionate so he would plant many many love kisses all over you nonstop! usually sometimes he even just gives you one when it’s unnecessary or so, kissing you on the cheek while you scroll on your phone.. kissing the nape of your neck from behind whenever you were in the kitchen, sneakily kissing your inner thigh from beneath the bedsheets, you name it! yuuji yawned as he wrapped an arm around your waist, scooting you even closer against him. “babe, can i kiss you?” no answer, you were too focused on that stupid movie you wanted to watch, he didn’t think you’d get this invested. the male gently put a hand on your thigh, surprise-kissing the blade of your shoulder with much desire and love.

anndd.. here you both go again.. on the couch as the room was filled with sharp heavy panting and lewd noises. yuuji’s hands grabbed onto your waist and moved you back and forth on his gap, feeling a bulge press against you as your cunt pulsed around nothing.. you prayed he didn’t feel anything. you always wondered how he’s so sweet and delicate with your kisses as if you were some kind of gentle flower you needed to protect, his touches were so soft.. so gentle and yet a little hesitant.. not wanting to hurt you in anyway. his mouth moved towards your jaw and then your hands. “you should kiss me more babe, i like how soft your lips feel on mine.” “i already allow you to give me surprises kisses in private and public, what more do you need, hm?” “.. another kiss, maybe? or maybe.. more kisses? more than the amount i give you in one day?” ahh.. you know you can’t say no to him, you knew just how much he wanted to kiss you breathless.

୨୧ 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

surprise kisses with him are a must (atleast 2 him!) he loves sneaking small little pecks on your cheek and lips, though.. his surprise kisses are rather bold and lead to more intimate moments between the both of you. heated and long messy makeout sessions to more.. bolder ones, though you aren’t complaining really, he isn’t either.. in-fact he loves the faces you make whenever he plunges his tongue inside your mouth with no warning at all, grabbing at your ass.. your waist, you name it! scolding him about his “surprise” kisses won’t help either, he just knows how to rile you up in no time! the special grade groaned into the kiss as he pulled you onto his lap, grabbing your hips and squeezing at it with his hands. satoru sighs lowly, struggling against the heat and lust that was now flowing through his body like hot lava, he wanted more and he craved more.. he didn’t even care that it was supposed to be a “small” surprise kiss, he wanted you and he wanted you now. you sure do have that effect on him.

“you’re such a cute little angel for me, mhm? stay still for me a bit, yeah?” oh you knew what he was gonna do. you hear him spit on the top of his fingers for a second, body jolting as you felt his fingers rubbing your clit. “i’m sorry. i can’t get enough of you. look at this, you’re so wet already, angel. all this for me? all because of the kissing, hm?” he rubbed the slit of your pussy with two fingers at a harsher pace.. feeling your wetness on his fingers. “c’mon, keep kissing me pretty. don’t let these fingers distract you, yeah?” was all he said before the sweetness of his lips returned on your own, his kisses were sloppy and messy but yet he didn’t show any signs of stopping anytime soon.. his digits curling in your cunt, forcing a muffled moan from your lips. adding another finger in, he could feel how tight his pants felt.. getting all hard just from fingering you and kissing you alone was crazy enough, he wasn’t playing around.. he wanted more.. and he’ll get more. satoru will do this over and over again until you’re absolutely breathless.

[phas3d]

Famous!s/o Makes A Song About Him | Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: sexual hints (mattheo)

contains :: draco, tom, matt, theo, lorenzo

summary :: you're a rising pop star, similar to sabrina carpenter/olivia rodrigo and you dedicate a song to them

notes :: heavy inspo from @goldsainz and their writing for f1 drivers! i've been binge reading all of their stuff pls go read it :) they're lowkey inspiring me to make my own f1 page LMAOOOO

DRACO MALFOY "i know i have good judgement, i know i have good taste" - please please please by sabrina carpenter

He listens to the sing intensely, he's enjoying it but you can't read his face properly - thank god you were performing on stage so you couldn't look at his judgy face

But as you keep singing and poking jokes at him, he can't help but break his strong stare and chuckle. He hated admitting that you were funny, but goddamnit your fans just recorded him laughing and blushing

Once you finish performing, he smiles happily and cheers. He can't help but continue to laugh and shake his head from his own shock that YOU, the (y/n) who's famous, beautiful, and talented, is singing a song about HIM???

He'd never admit that all out loud, but you could read him so easily, you knew he was wrapped around your finger

Once your performance is over he greets you backstage with a smile that he's desperately trying to hide

"The song was a solid 8/10" he says as you scoff at him, you could tell he loved it and was too much of a wuss to admit it

And you were right, he has that song on REPEAT - he probably gave you like a million streams on his own

TOM RIDDLE "my baby, here on earth - showed me what my heart was worth" - my love mine all mine by mitski

When he first heard it, he's shocked that it's so somber and slow compared to your usual upbeat songs

He's even more shocked when he hears the lyrics and how simple yet impactful it is, it almost makes him blush

Tom has always been a sucker for poetry and music with simple instrumentals, so when you combined those both into this song he felt so loved

Once you finish performing it for the first time, he can't help but smile to himself, looking at the floor and putting his hand over his mouth to mask his happiness

When you finally come back stage, he walks up to you and hugs you tightly - despite PDA being literally vomit worthy for him

It surprises you so much, you weren't even aware you could have this impact on the cold-hearted Tom - but you did and you loved every second of it

Your song plays on repeat for him constantly, it reminds him that he's loved. He's never ever felt that in his entire life, even from his own brother

The song healed a small part of his deeply broken heart and soul, and he's so grateful for you to bring him even the slightest bit of joy, especially because he knows how difficult he is at times

MATTHEO RIDDLE "the boy is mine, i cant wait to try him, lets get intertwined" - the boy is mine by ariana grande

The second he hears the song and the lyrics, he's smirking and feeling so confident. The entire song is just basically flexing that he's yours - but he feels like he should be the one singing about you like this

Everything about the song is suited to match him perfectly, the beats, the sexual lyrics, even the choregraphy is amazing to him - it's like a perfect art piece just for him

Once you finish recording it, he's left dumbfounded and just smiling. It doesn't help that you send him a wink as well, making his already rapid heart beat even faster

After you finish the entire show, he can't get his hands off of you. He kisses you everywhere, does every command you ask of him, and drives you home at 100 mph

He wants to reward you :)

THEODORE NOTT "when i talk to you, oh cupid walks right through and shoots an arrow through my heart" - from the start by laufey

This song was basically a confession to him, which you hoped he wouldn't notice, but he did instantly and he loved every second of it

He had zero clue you had feelings for him, and vice versa. You guys were both known as the oblivious slow burn couple but you both were clueless to this rumor

Once you perform it live on stage, he decides to steal a random bouquet of flowers from a fan and run backstage to greet you

He gifts you the stolen flowers and smirks, "If you love me just say so," He says with a cocky grin on his face

Before you can tell him to shut up and stop stroking his ego, he leans down to your height and gives you a peck on the lips - making both of you blush

"Once you're done performing, how about we go on a little date" He says with a cute smile, making it impossible to say no

But he lied - that date was not "little" and instead one of the fanciest restaurants ever that he paid extra to play your entire debut album over and over for all the patrons to hear

He's your biggest fan ever and posts your song about him everywhere, literally fucking everyone god he can't stop

LORENZO BERKSHIRE "tangled in love, stuck by you from the glue" - glue song by beabadoobee

Oh my gosh he's already your biggest fan boy ever, so when you sing this song as a surprise gift for him - he's freaking out and shaking against the barriers

He bites his lip and smiles as you sing this cheesy love song about him - he's never had his ego been this inflated and he loves it

Once you finish singing, he screams and shouts so loud that even your die hard fans start to judge him

But he doesn't care and he runs backstage so fast you'd think he's the Flash. He waits backstage for you like an excited puppy waiting for their owner. You could almost see his tag wag from how bright his smile is

The second you walk off the stage, he hugs you tightly and covers you in a thousand kisses - your makeup artist won't be happy but you don't care

"Ohmygosh!!! I love it! I love you! You're so sweet! Ohmygosh!!! The hottest EVER just wrote a song about me!!! A happy little love song!!! Is that the song you've been practicing for so long? Why did you never tell me-" You laugh and shut him up with a kiss on the lips and then another one on his cheek - giving him a kiss lipstick mark on his face

He understands you need to go back and perform so he leaves

Oh, also he doesn't remove your kiss :) He keeps it there the wholeeee night

[mikashisus]

PARTNERS IN CRIME!

SYNOPSIS: soul eater au with genshin characters part one!!

PAIRING: kinich, venti, yelan, nilou x gn!reader

warnings: slight angst, mentions of death

notes: yall one of my irls finally got me to watch soul eater and it gave me so many ideas. i literally started the show back in june but i got so busy that i just.. never continued watching it.. 😭 until my friend invited me over to watch some episodes LMAO. there’ll be a part two to this cause i have more ideas with more characters teehee. anyw enjoy!!

KINICH

• the two of you became partners on a whim. your last partner had been tragically killed in battle and you were in the market for a new one. though, you were pretty standoffish towards everyone because you were grieving

• kinich was also looking for a partner around the same time and happened upon you after a meeting with lord death. you looked pretty worse for wear and he offered his shoulder for you to cry on. without thinking, he offered to be your new partner, and you agreed

• training together for the first time was a shit show, and your best friend, mualani, sat there laughing her ass off the entire time. you kept yelling at her to go find her meister and leave you and kinich alone so you could focus

• you had even more trouble adapting because kinich’s weapon form was a greatsword and your last weapon had been a gun. it was a huge change that required you to workout and build up muscle in order to properly wield him

• after a month or so, the two of you were able to finally build up your teamwork and trust. you spent a lot of time together in and out of classes to get to know each other better and form a bond. you easily formed an attachment to him, but he was a bit more reluctant due to his introverted personality

• you were shocked at how close you became in such a short period of time. before you knew it, you were taking on missions again and working on your soul resonance

• due to losing your last partner, you now had an irrational fear of losing kinich, which caused a lot of problems in battle. instead of letting him do his duty and protect his meister, you put yourself between him and the enemy and sacrificed your life to protect him. this habit eventually caused a huge fight between the two of you, with kinich sputtering out a confession

• shocked, you were left to mull over everything until you couldn’t take being away from him any longer and went to apologize. he also apologized for raising his voice, and you had a heart to heart talk that left a confession of your own slipping out

• you asked if he could forgive you, and he said he would, but only if you stopped taking the heat and let him actually do his job. reluctantly, you did, because you couldn’t say no to him when you loved him so much

VENTI

• the two of you had been long time partners, or “partners in crime” as he liked to call it. you were childhood friends turned lovers. he was your loyal weapon, and to him, you were his trusted meister

• you got on like oil and water, but you also couldn’t be more similar. opposites attract, after all. everyone always told you that you two were the most compatible weapon and meister ever. also the strongest… literal power couple

• you were able to collect 99 souls and a witch soul in no time together. together, your strength rivaled gods. venti himself was on par with a god, even if his weapon form was only that of a musical instrument

• on weekends, you spent your time training and venti would watch you from the sidelines, simply admiring you. you’d tell him to join you, which would always result in him asking for kisses in return if he did. every time, you’d say yes, because you just couldn’t say no

• whenever someone asked how you two got together, venti would come up with something different on the spot. once, he said that he was majorly attracted to you while watching you fight with another weapon in battle, and afterwards, went up to you asking to be your weapon instead and you dramatically threw away your last partner to become partners with him

• another time, he said that he dropped his uncle’s glass of wine on you while he was drunk and you ended up taking care of him for the night, which led to him professing his undying love for you. safe to say, no one actually knows the true story

• the true story of how you two got together was actually a bit more tragic. he sacrificed himself for you when you were teenagers. during your battle to collect a witch's soul, venti heroically threw himself in front of you to protect you and he was almost killed. in a fit of rage, you completely obliterated the witch and rushed over to your injured best friend. he played the situation off by making a few jokes, though they did nothing to stop your crying. thinking he was going to die, he confessed to you before you fed him the witch’s soul

• when he came to and was all healed up, you returned his sentiments. from then on, your bond grew stronger and served as an example for younger generations

YELAN

• being yelan’s weapon was rough work. you complained that she overworked you during training and you always seemed to have a quip ready on your tongue during battle

• never a dull moment between the two of you, as you were always the reckless type, and she tried her best to reel you in. after years of working together, your bond was exceptionally strong

• she teaches at DWMA, you think it’s hot

• you have an odd job outside of being a weapon. you work part-time as a tailor’s assistant

• you like to make dresses for her and she absolutely adores them, though she never admits it because she hates (not really) seeing that smug look on your face. it’s okay though, she’ll get you back by kissing you and laugh at your stunned expression

• you spend more time arguing with her than actually helping her fight enemies. she hates it, as she just likes to get things over and done with— especially since she’s an assassin

• your personalities are wildly different, but it makes you two all the more compatible

• at the end of the day, you make a great team and you have a bond that could never be severed. you’d sacrifice your life for her no matter what, even though you had full faith and trust in her that she could handle herself

NILOU

• she was more on the timid side than you. when you first met, your explosive personality made her a bit scared of you. it took a bit of time for her to warm up to you and gain the courage to actually say something

• you were the one who took the first step and approached her first. when you did, you accidentally scared her off, which caused you to sulk for a while. you just thought she was pretty and wanted to say so..

• after talking with her friends, dehya and dunyarzad, she went on a mission to find you and apologize for the way she acted. when she did find you, you were overlooking the city and sat in complete silence. she didn’t want to interrupt, but you already knew she was there

• she apologized profusely (after gaining the courage to sit down beside you) and the two of you talked for a long while. right before she was about to go home, she told you she was looking for a partner and would love for you to be hers. that was what set everything in motion, and you pledged to protect her as best you could

• she was tough for someone who looked very shy. she moved with a grace and elegance that entranced you, and you found yourself wanting to learn how to dance as well as she could. she immediately offered to teach you, and most of the time you spent bonding together was through dance lessons

• in turn, you taught her how to wield a sword better. the close proximity was a bit of a distraction for you both (in both dancing and sword training). soon, you found yourself wishing to be by her side like that forever

notes: shoutout to the stellaronhvnters disc for suggesting the last two characters. baizhu was also suggested, but he gives me the ick, so i didn’t include him LOL 😭 i have a discord server! it’s nice and cozy there, feel free to join! <3

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.