#also I have had one specific joke(?) plot in my brain since i started this so that isnt even entirely true

[gholdengodaily]

my secret is that while i say plot is made up as I go (it is) Mac does actually have a (gasp) backstory. scandalous on a silly blog, i know.

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello!!

The crack post saga continues... =D

Warning: long, long post 😊😅

To be very honest though, for today's ep I will be getting serious more than usual, because it was quite significant in the flow of the plot, and also had moments of communication (this emotional constipation is what makes me yearn for Cherry Magic ah) that need to be studied a little closely.

HOWEVER, there will most definitely be crack because this group of friends is (unapologetically) batshit crazy and my brain refuses to not make comments at the most inappropriate times.

Peem: NO ONE SAW ME CUDDLING MY CRUSH TO SLEEP RIGHT?!

The sheer panic in his movements, oh my gods. It should not be as hilarious as it is 😭😂

To be very honest though, I would've panicked a bit in his place too, with friends like those, they'd never let him live it down

Peem is so cute 😭

Nothing to see here, just a guy getting shy over how his prince charming hom-ed him, and they kissed through his hand and cuddled all night hehe

Phum: here he comes again :) *eye twitch*

Peem's expression, how he's still holding his hands as if he has the cup, Kluen's disbelief, and Phum's smug af face-

I'm wheezing 😭🤣

Kluen, I'm kinda starting to like you, but no.

You don't stand half a chance against them and their situationship.

Hope you find another boyfriend to fall in love at first sight with (and leave my boys alone please, they don't need any more complications) <3

Oh, Fang knows too. Of course he does, that's his little brother right there

We all know how protective of his brother he is, there's no way he'd let anybody else take care of him... unless, he knew Phum liked that person

les voila

Poor Tan, his theerak just ignoring him T-T

*looks between them* yeah, pretty much the same pic 👀

And here it is. The root of all his fears.

See, in this camp, almost all of them are paired up in the sense that they usually stick to that person. Even Beer has MIck. But then comes wild card Kluen, who's hogging all of Peem's attention as much as he can and that leaves Phum. Alone.

I will be getting back to this running motif of Phum being alone and how it changes through the ep in later scenes as well

Also, after they went back, both Mick and Beer asked if he really was okay, which made me smile, because maybe, Phum isn't as alone as he thinks himself to be. There are people who care for him, who are concerned, who'll support him, and of course, he always has Fang, his beloved phi

My poor babie Tan 🥺🥺

Also, notice how the shot is taken in such a way that they're the only ones in the frame, and are also standing within one specific part of the wall? (Ignore Kluen's head and hands please). It reflects how they're in their own world with each other, especially Tan

The nosy peeps gang strikes again!

Jokes aside, the synchronised strides, the background music together set the perfect levels of suspense and comedy

Peem, smug: yes! that emotionally constipated dumbass is finally getting out of De Nile

Pun: wait... is my plan actually working? Ah, of course it is

Toey: head empty, no thoughts, but... DOES P'Q ACTUALLY LIKE ME OMG I'LL DIE

Oh gods, FINALLY. I wish them a happily ever after. Sadhu 😌🙏🏼

Pun forgetting all about being quiet when Toey finally confesses is so on character 😭👍🏼

Also... what's even the point of being quiet? Q and Chain have been friends with these idiots since high school, of course they know they're peeking

Toey: *shooketh*

Gays in thai bl and staring off into the distance 😭

This scene was so, so beautiful and also quite important for both Q and Toey

Q knew what was up, more or less, but his confusion stemmed from his knowledge of Toey

Would Toey really go to these lengths? For him?

"Why? Are you the only one who can tease me?" <- Q says this to tell Toey that he might have been angry, but now he understands that Toey didn't really have any bad intentions

Hugs always get bonus points from me, and this was pretty up there

Pun hiding behind Chain is so on point

His friends: you're an idiot so we had no choice but to intervene 😭😭

Matt's (JJ) comedic timing is >>>>>>

Toey and Matt's friendship is also given weight in the series, and I'm happier for it.

Also revenge is sweet ehehe *coughs*

Moving on.

If there's no live singing dedicated to your One True Love, is it even Thai BL??

We Are making generous use of MSP songs 😭👍🏼

This scene.

The apology. It is at this point that they're leaving all the past pain, grief and anger in the past

Q makes sure to tell Toey that yes, he may have loved Milk Frappe Boy, but now, in the present, all his love was for Toey, his lovable annoying mentee

This apology is not only to Toey, or Milk Frappe Boy, but to himself as well, because by causing pain to a person he loves twice, he'd caused himself pain too

The perfect sweet and romantic moment, but also with a teeny bit of teasing, because that's who they are

No joke, I gasped and nearly stopped breathing when he said this

Peem's reply, his soft but kind of hurt voice were just so painful to hear

But it's also this moment that Peem gives Phum a reality check – if he really didn't want to, he wouldn't be doing any of this, and Phum had no business trying to control his life

The conversation outside with Q was significant, but also a diluted reflection of Peem's earlier (in ep. 7) talk with Q

Even a few episodes earlier, Q would have gone ballistic on Phum for treating his bestie like this, but now, he asks Peem how he feels for Phum, tries to understand exactly what their relationship is

It was at this point that he knew, he fucked up

Beer is a godsent. I love him <3

I think Toey says "I asked hia Tan to blow it up for me."

Also, Tiw and his rubber duck floater from MSP anyone? 👀

And, we are back to square one where Phum is left alone again

As I'd said before, this a repeating motif throughout the series, but especially the last two episodes

This is how it has always been in Phum's life: he has been left behind. He does have Fang, but now even Fang has a boyfriend. And while this does not affect his brother's affection towards him in anyway, it does introduce a new strand of lonliness for Phum because 1. no matter what, he loves his brother a lot, and knows how much he loves Tan, so he definitely will try to stay out of their way at least sometimes and 2. he wants a boyfriend too. Further, he wants Peem, but there's a push and pull there, and after what he said, in his mind he had pretty much ruined his chances with his crush

This is the moment Phum starts to hope that maybe, just maybe, his feelings aren't as unrequited as he'd thought.

On the other hand, Peem is the one afraid here. What if the deal is all that's holding them together? What if without it, Phum will have no reason to be as close to him?

Peem, baby, for one, your groups are already merged, and secondly, this guy is head over heels for you, no way he'd stop following you like a lost puppy

(Apparently, it's not Peem's turn with the communal braincell this week 😭)

Here, Phum is technically alone, but he's surrounded with friends, and he's smiling

He isn't left behind here, for once, he's sitting there by choice (to shamelessly ogle his crush, but shh we don't talk about that) with the comforting knowledge that when/if he jumps in, he won't be left out, Kluen be damned

Once the floodgates of affection have been opened to Q, there's no going back <3

(Also, notice how Tan is already asleep on Fang's shoulder? 👀)

FINALLY

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT SINCE PEEM KICKED PHUM'S BALLS

Jokes apart, this moment is so, so beautiful. The kiss, the soft question "are you ready for my answer now?" (maybe Peem isn't, but hell if he denies this man his kissies).

Everything leading up to this point is also so very delightful

Phum helping them out in the cafe, despite probably having never worked a day in his life, discovering how Peem still kept the roses and finally, finally, the completed painting. This sight, above all, is what convinces Phum that Peem might have feelings for him after all; because which fool would lie about not having completed something that would free them from being a slave to someone? A fool in love, that's who

ALSO,

if they don't get together and have the fluffiest moments in the next ep, I swear to god, hands will be thrown *grumbles* they're already making me wait a whole damn week

Anyways, that's all for this week, see you next ep! (I cannot promise I won't be jumping around and screaming, but then again, this is supposed to be a crack post so-)

And if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a bubble tea and a sandwich 🧋🥪

[If you'd like, here are my previous posts: Ep 8 and Ep 9.]

[onebedtorulethemall]

Hi! I love your fics, TWR is one of my favorite coworker AUs to this day and BO deserves all the flowers it gets. I find it hard to leave comments sometimes as I’m reading since I usually need to chew on what I’ve read for a while to really decide what I want to say (and I never want to sound pushy for updates or whatever!), but I went back to leave a comment on one of your oneshots and found it deleted so that’s why I’m here. It was called A Life We Never Lived or something along those lines? The conversation you wrote between D/Hr involving the ring theory for grief literally lives in my brain. When Draco says something like “only you could create a system for grief and mismanage it”, maybe it was just a passing joke/throwaway line, but it felt so genuinely in character for both of them and really got to the core of why I love the Dramione dynamic in fics so much. Specifically post war/post canon with Hermione tackling her emotions with pure logic and not putting herself first, and Draco being kind of an ass but offering his own brand of support by recognizing shes struggling too and their sort of awkward kinship/healing together. It also just made me laugh out loud, your humor always comes through so well and that’s such a hard skill to develop! I know it wasn’t going to be overall lighthearted/HEA, but I loved what you had posted so far and just wanted to make sure you knew. Was there a reason you decided not to finish it/to delete it?

Ahaha! I really thought I'd gotten away with hiding that unfinished one-shot. It had all of 230 hits. Never in my wildest dreams did I think anyone would notice, let alone quote a line to me. Thank you, I'm incredibly flattered!

That poor fic was doomed from the start by an uncommitted author. The concept was to write a snapshot of their meeting on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts every year for a decade, with letters exchanged between meetings, a secret relationship, heartache, and an eventual painful breakup. Sort of a "right person, wrong time" quiet tragedy. I posted the first 3k and struggled through another unposted 5k before I called it quits.

Actually, I did a little mental postmortem on it when I took it down, because it confirmed some things about myself as a writer that I thought were good lessons. So, here you go:

1. I need a plot before I start. I mean, I knew this, but now I *extra* know it. I had only a rough idea of where I was going, and that is not enough for me. A pantser I am not.

2. I have to finish a fic before I post it. My fics are usually 95-100% complete before I post, and this was the exception that proves the rule. I'm not sure why the post-as-you-go method doesn't work for me, but writing became instantly 100x harder once I'd posted part of it (which I only did because of the fest deadline).

3. I'm not really in control of the plot. To me, creating an outline is the process of discovering the story, as though I'm documenting something that has already happened. I always feel as though there's really only one way a story can go, once I know the characters. Well, I figured out pretty quickly once I belatedly started plotting that this one does NOT have an unhappy ending, but rather an angsty yet ultimately happy one. And this was for the UHEA fest, so...

4. Just because I want to read it doesn't mean I want to write it. I could have finished it with a HEA and removed it from the fest, but once I realized it was a quiet story about the slow unfolding of a relationship over the course of a decade, I'm afraid that was the end of it. I think it would have been an understated, bittersweet, character-centric little relationship study, but none of those things light up my genre fiction-loving brain. Love to read it, but I just can't find the spark to write it. And thus died my dreams of ever writing literary fiction (kidding, I never had those).

So that's the story! I dug up the part you mentioned and had a fun time rereading. I liked it way more than I remembered, and I'm sorry it won't come to fruition. If I knew how to get myself to write something I wasn't wholly invested in, I would absolutely finish it for you.

From "Scenes From a Life We Never Lived":

Thank you so much for this ask. Sometimes if I'm having a bad writing day or if the imposter syndrome is hitting, I like to pretend someone out there is laughing at some stupid joke I wrote (or, since finishing my gothic, is having a pleasant nightmare). Usually my brain tries to convince me this is impossible. I stockpile your kind words as evidence.

[chaserainbows]

RP GET TO KNOW YOU QUESTIONNAIRE.

NAME?: Amano

PRONOUNS?: He/they

MOST ACTIVE MUSES?: Lucas here, Ethan and Cordie at @ambivalentatmosphere, Nico at @catadioptrics the Amano Cinematic Universe is very large

RPG CLASS I'D BE: Probably a healer because I like support classes

FAVORITE COLOR: Pastel blue

FAVORITE TYPE OF THREAD: I definitely like comedy-based threads but I also really enjoy more dramatic plot-driven stuff, I like to put my muses through the wringer and see what comes out on the other side

FAVORITE THING ABOUT MY MUSE: I have a lot of muses here but in broader terms I like to take what's already there in canon and expand upon it to make the characters have their own Amano Identity(tm), I feel like Calem's a really good example of this because he has all the elements that make him who he is in canon but I recontextualize those traits to take him in a different direction, he's well-connected and takes the initiative to get to know people so I play him as a very outgoing character that's well-informed about the things going on in his home region because it makes sense and adds a fresh layer to his characters

As for my OCs I like the potential they have for worldbuilding as well as the cool new connections that can be made with them, like Ethan and Cordie really allow me to write about different perspectives on Hoenn based on their respective upbringings and I think that's super cool

HOW YOU LIKE TO RP: I usually prefer to wing it at first when I'm getting to know a muse I haven't written with before, which is why I have a preference for less serious threads since they allow me to explore the Vibes without having to restrict myself too much or follow a specific script, but when I know what I'm working with I definitely like to plot and consider different scenarios and directions that I can take with each character, if I plot with someone they'll definitely know that I'm a yapper

FAVORITE PLOTS: I definitely like to write plots where I get to put my characters in uncomfortable situations where they have to adapt in order to navigate their way through the Chaos, one particular example was this Blair thread I had with a N muse a while back where he went to confront N after BW2 to settle their differences because while it was overall pretty low stakes there was also the Tension and the Storyline and he even started facing his fear of bugs because of it that was fun

WHERE YOU GET YOUR INSPIRATION FROM: Many different sources like anime, games, music as well as just spinning ideas around in my brain until something cool happens, there's this recurring joke with my RP partners from the old testament era that you can usually tell when I get into a new anime because it's reflected in my writing

FACT ABOUT YOU: I'm realizing that I need to update my rules pages across my different blogs because I graduated college like a year ago but I never know what to write there

SNATCHED FROM: @touyatiredforthis

[the-lesbian-orpheus]

(kinda sorta)

Life SMP Hadestown AU

//Life SMP Hadestown AU//

Master post for something no one may see.

Idk if this is anything but enjoy

I dunno- this and into the woods is my favorite musicals and I’ve had traffic brain rot for AGESSS and I was finally re-listening to Hadestown and this absolute fever dream of an idea dawned on me during hey little song bird

So yeah. Enjoy?

Here’s the original post when I got this idea

And obvious disclaimer this are all the character versions of these people not the actual people thank you very much for you patience.

ANYWAY

//Life series Hadestown AU//

Eurydice- Jimmy Solidarity ✨the canary✨ you see the vision. This (joke?) is what started this whole thing so.

Orpheus- Still deciding between Scott and Tango

Tango pros:

- They are soulmates

- the goat horns are kinda vaguely like music/an instrument 👀

- ranchers duo is SO SWEET always

- their lives are tethered which in a way fits the story of the show and the myth.

- idk i just like this idea

- why are you still here? It’s over. Go home.

- c!jimmy seems to be on better terms with c!tango than c!scott soooo

Scott pros:

- they were husbands, Jimmy died first tragically (very accurate to original myth)

- THE FLOWER MOTIF- specifically a red flower. It’s just so perfect

- they saw each other in the afterlife

- Scott is always attached to flower husbands which seems fitting

- he likes to sing? Empires musical? I don’t know but it seems like it works

-flower husbands and desert duo have connections (you will see why this is important)

So yeah leaning towards tango for the vibes but leaning towards Scott for actual similarities in plot and such.

(If someone wants to say Joel or someone I will happily hear you out lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hades and Persephone- c!Grian and c!Scar/desert duo. The characters were once in love and then it grew into a a more bitter relationship. There are lots of potential parallels with Hadestown older lovers and desert duo. Grian and scar also have flower/plant motifs.

Grian as hades- He is a watcher, which seems fitting. Creator of the games seems fitting for god of death and also the industrial foreman Hadestown has. Original winner.

Scar as Persephone- Now that he is a winner, I personally love the idea of him being the earth, which is perfect for the god(dess) of spring. I also think his secret life skins going from green to black is an accidental parallel.

The only real issue with this is I want to incorporate Grian being the sun but that’s contradictory;-;

Hermes- My main idea atm is Martyn. This is mostly because storytelling and lore is very connected to him and his character. Who doesn’t love some eyes and ears AU/lore

I am also considering pearl just because I like that idea, her being the moon and being connected to g and s, etc

And Ren because he is such a storyteller/theater kid

The Fates- I have several ideas for this

-the watchers(and secret keeper.) Obvious reasons

- the other winners

-clethubs because they are a fun/good trio lol

- ren, pearl, Scott (in case I don’t have them as Hermes/orpheus)

- the remaining Evo members: bigb (also he was so creechur in third life ), pearl, and if he’s not Hermes, Martyn (also good since pearl and martyn have won)

__________________________________________

Based on a lot of the plant motifs imagine if instead of a carnation it was a poppy.

I’m very slow with drawing and have never written any kind of fic before but if people like this idea I’d love suggestions for the AU and I’ll definitely make some character designs :)

Character designs/descriptions:

Jimmy coming soon to a theater near you

Other posts for the AU:

Full circle lol

Potential name

How to include both Scott and Tango

[o-uncle-newt]

Cabin Pressure Advent Day 7: Gdansk

GDAAAAAANSK!

Obviously I love Gdansk- who doesn't? It's basically perfect. While I encourage new listeners who are listening cold to start with Douz, if they need one episode to tempt them in, I always have them try Gdansk. Works every time.

I kind of had to turn my brain off before listening to this one, because I've heard it so many times that it doesn't really register in my head anymore as a thing in and of itself as opposed to "funny thing that I like and listen to when I need a non-pharmaceutical antidepressant." And it is really, really good at that. Passenger Derby is basically my favorite thing on the show from a pure comedy perspective, and the whole thing is just hilarious.

But the episode is also able to seamlessly integrate the humor and the human relationships together, and that's something where I think S2 is a clear improvement on S1. Some of it is clearly a purposeful shift as the characters get to know each other better, but I also think that JF just got better at writing it- which makes a lot of sense. Regardless, it just works beautifully, in part because it narrows in on one highly specific relationship that's about to get permanently deepened- Douglas and Martin. (Incidentally, Roger Allam is always great but I do want to call out Benedict Cumberbatch's performance in this episode as being absolutely stellar, and it should be played for all of the "he only knows how to play one character and it hasn't been cool since 2015" people out there to prove them wrong. He's SO FUNNY while also making you feel bad for him AND kinda annoyed with him for being such an idiot. Kudos.)

In certain ways, Gdansk is more like Limerick than it is, say, Ipswich. In Ipswich, sure, there's the question of who's the alpha dog, but fundamentally the episode centers around the situation of needing to renew their certifications and how they deal with that, and it's through that medium that the question of who the alpha dog is (not that we had any doubt) is resolved. Here, there isn't really a plot, just a bunch of linked scenes on the same flight with an A plot and a B plot that end up coinciding through the Disney character game and the strudel/cheesecake bet- which make it clear that the A plot is the Martin-Douglas relationship plot because it's their actions in the flight deck that impact the B plot of Madame S-B and her unreasonable and paranoid demands. And it's super, super impressive that JF was able to do such a great job of putting all the moving pieces together, even more smoothly than his previous not-really-a-plot episode, Fitton.

But anyway, back to Martin and Douglas. It's done so well, because even though the broadcast order was switched so that Helsinki was in between, the ending of Fitton HAD to be addressed. And I love how it gives all the betting, and Douglas messing with Martin, stakes- unlike in S1 when Douglas did it just to fuck with him and show him who's really boss, here it's because Douglas is genuinely hurting and angry about something that Martin finds funny even though to him, it's painful. Douglas needs to get some of his own back- and to get that joke of Martin's back- which leads to a continually escalating series of bets. Martin, in turn, is cherishing the one thing that gives him something over Douglas- which he really needs, given how demoralizing it is to be in a position that he knows he didn't truly earn and that he's not a paid pilot. In the end, Martin doesn't give up the story, but he gives up an even bigger piece of leverage- and that puts Douglas far enough on top that he feels able to be magnanimous again in helping Martin out with the game so he can beat Carolyn. He's not at a point where he'll do it for nothing, but in exchange for that bit of pride that Martin's embarrassing admission gives him back, he will.

(It's also worth noting that Douglas is actively in divorce proceedings at this point, which Martin doesn't know and Douglas chooses not to share- perhaps to keep that one bit of pride, that Martin doesn't know that the wife Douglas bought brown sauce for was having an affair the whole time. When Douglas does share that in Limerick, it's in exchange for a different piece of vulnerability from Martin.)

Ughhhhh, emotional stakes and character work, so GOOD!

Just a top tier episode. Could literally listen to it at any time and in any place.

[raayllum]

I love how we are basically opposites on the whole theory thing :

You predict plot points by making jokes that end up coming true

meanwhile me and my overdramatic mind obssesses over dark scenarios that would never fit into 9 episodes and then I'm surprised when they don't happen XD

Listen as long as you're enjoying what you're doing, I say have all the fun you want in fanon and taking insp from canon! That's the best part sometimes! <3

Although I have some things that started out as jokes that ended up being canon (my absolute favourite of which being this joke I made about Ezran in 2x04 that was then an actual thing in the s2 novelization) the weirdest thing for me has been like... the ultra specific thing / things I thought would be more metaphorical that ended up being more literal

AKA a list in no particular order

Me assuming since Through the Moon came out that Callum would inevitably play into Aaravos's hands and that the struggle to not do so would be his main conflict in arc 2 (which looking back, the possession plot line seems so thematically obvious I am genuinely a little sheepish I didn't see it coming)

The game motif being my favourite motif and then s4 fucking Delivered it was beautiful

Viren's atonement arc because of his eye symbolism

That the rune cube placement could be trusted to foreshadow things, specifically the Ocean rune in finding the prison and in foreshadowing Callum's dark magic use

Me going "Hey wouldn't it be Fucked Up if whatever comes out of the cocoon is like a child version of Aaravos?" (hi Sir Sparklepuff my beloved)

For that matter: that Aaravos would ask one of the mage fam to kill Sir Sparklepuff for a deep magic spell, and that they'd refuse to do so

Callum's interplay with freedom being too tethered to Rayla that I banked on her eventually being taken hostage and Callum doing morally ambiguous shit to save her like 3+ years in advance

Seeing Callum's S4 design for the first time and noting that the circlets around his wrists invoke chain symbolism but thinking "Nah him and Rayla being in chains like tarot cards will just be metaphoric right". Haha, no!

Ezran as the embodiment of Justice / the series' Witness (hell yeah thank you 4x03 & TOX for making Justice his highest value)

Predicting Rayla's entire arc 2 arc thus far re: her paranoid and restless nature being what puts them on the path to finding Viren and her wanting a rematch, the coins, and her self worth issues, written March 2020 (months before TTM came out)

Callum and Viren as each other's primary foils (begun before this but started being highlighted further from Nov 2019 onwards with specifically thinking that S4, as opposed to s3, would crank it up to an 11)

Rayla and Callum's whole ass light-dark motif that I thought would be a fun consistency in the background rather than a whole ass arc defining Thing

Characterization wise but Ezran as an Enneagram Nine The Peacemaker personality wise (once again thank u 4x03)

Back in Aug 2021 I noticed that bloodbending had thematic similarities to dark magic (in terms of framing, notions of control & agency) but again, didn't think it'd amount to literal likewise puppeteering (Aaravos is/was even imprisoned like Hama too!)

Seeing parallels between dark magic and thematic/metaphorical cannibalism / positing Aaravos as a cannibal in a fic I wrote in 2019 but never ever thinking it'd be more than metaphorical bc kids show, am I right? (when I tell you I screamed)

Like 3 weeks post s3 I came up with Political Trio Theory in which Ezran and Rayla are at odds about something and Callum is caught in the middle, as he agrees more with Rayla but feels like he should side more with Ezran, which an Ezran / trio centric conflict along those lines seems to be what we're going to get personally with Runaan / the coins in future seasons

Which, not only is it mostly to keep my English major-y brain sharp and my enclosure enriched (parallels are my perpetual hamster wheel), but it's also like... obviously predicting from theme/motifs isn't perfect, but it does mean you have all the right pieces. Then it just comes from running through the options to assemble what the puzzle might look like, & also thinking through the constraints of structure and run time (ergo I wasn't surprised when Callum didn't figure out the mirror himself in early S4 cause I just didn't think the show would have time for that kind of slow build).

Like following S2 I never really thought Callum's journey with dark magic was precisely over, firstly because I saw him absolutely as someone who would do dark magic / things he morally is against again if put in the exact circumstances he was in S5 (hence the CHET predictions post up above), but also because as our primary mage character and with dark magic being the core ethical dilemma for mage characters in the show, it just didn't make sense to assume that it'd be entirely resolved with a neat little bow 2/6 (since at the time we thought it'd be 6 seasons) in. Like - what? So that's something from an analytical standpoint of characterization, theme, and structure, for example, and TDP gives us a decent amount of time to get used to all those things especially in the first three seasons and then we can kind of build our predictions neatly from there.

So what usually happens is that I'll have a passing thought / gut reaction, think "huh maybe it's something," and then actually think about it for like 2 days to 2 weeks and realize that it loops back in with a lot of other stray thoughts and that there's something Substantial there. It never stops being wild

Anyway this was definitely way too long a response so TLDR; I'm always pleasantly surprised / excited whenever I predict anything correctly and also adore when the show throws me a curve ball (hi Terry <3), and the fun of theorizing (and sometimes throwing spaghetti at the wall) for me comes down to the themes and parallels and fun (fanon if nothing else) possibilities I can find. I love writing meta, speculative or purely analytical, even if/when they're often time consuming. My instincts haven't steered me too 'wrong' with TDP thus far, and I don't think they ever will!

[amethystina]

Hi! Do you think about making a analysis on the last episode of TDJ? (If you haven't done already) I just rewatched this ep the other day and I feel like no matter how many times I watch it, there will always be something that surprises me. Every episode does this to me actually.

Not the last episode as a whole, no, since that would probably make my brain explode xD Like, it's just too big? ANY episode would be too big considering the number of details, plot points, character moments etc. they contain. I wouldn't even know where to start analysing a full episode, at least not in the way I usually write my metas.

I'd need a narrower framework to build my analysis on, like a specific relationship, a specific scene, a specific plotline, a specific theory etc. Which is why my two more detailed metas so far are very contained with very clear goals. That's how much I have to narrow it down to be able to accurately convey something, because otherwise there would just be too much information for me to condense into something coherent. And I would have no idea in what order to present things. Not to mention that I'd be terrified of missing something important because the scope would be too big.

(I'm also just a terribly wordy person who can't write short things to save my life. Can you IMAGINE how long that analysis would be? x'D)

I obviously have a lot of details and ideas stored in my brain, but in order to convey them in a way that's actually digestible to other people, I need some sort of prompt or structure first. And, sometimes, that structure can actually be a fanfic. I'm not joking when I say that Who Holds the Devil is basically a gigantic meta at this point, because I'm pouring ALL of my thoughts and observations from the drama into it.

Which, in all honesty, if I had known that when I started? Then I probably wouldn't have written the fic x'D Because it's so, so daunting to go: "Alright, I'm going to summarize all my thoughts and feelings about this piece of media into this one work!" Granted that this one work is huge enough to fit A LOT of thoughts and feelings, but it's still a pretty insane endeavour.

Anyway! I'm sorry if that's a bit of a disappointing answer. I just don't think that my specific brand of analysis would be all that efficient on such a broad scale. I'm more of a detail-oriented person? So it would have to be something specific from the last episode, not the episode as a whole.

[holdonletmegetthisout]

For God’s sake start a journal already.

Somewhere along the way I was told I wasn’t great at writing. Maybe by a peer… or maybe it was a conclusion I’d drawn on my own? I distinctly remember sitting in creative writing, struggling to conjure up a story from the one sentence prompt on the screen. I’d stare at the lines on my paper for a few minutes, write down a sentence, find it lack luster, erase it, repeat. The timer would go off and we’d sit around reading our stories aloud. I’d sit in awe listening to the unique plots everyone had written. The teacher would call my name, and I’d go red in the face as I read my story that typically started with: “One day _____”. The class would clap like they did for everyone else, and the teacher would ask if anyone had questions (as if my tired writing could’ve left anyone wondering?? Honestly a sick joke on her end). No one would raise their hand, and we’d move on to the next person. Although now that I think about it, I’m not sure if I ever moved on. It seemed I checked off the box labeled “not a writer” in my head and never looked back.

I’ve always loved to read. Fascinated by beautiful pieces of literature, and the brain that thought to write it down. It was as if they had an endless bank of words waiting around in their mind, effortlessly turning to poetry the second their pen touched paper. That was such a foreign idea to me. I would sit for what felt like hours, trying to scrounge up ideas whenever I was faced with the task of writing. It always felt like such an impossible chore to me. I also have a very strong love for music. It’s gotten me through every point in my life, both good and bad. I can make a playlist for any occasion, any person, any season. I’ll sit for hours listening to my favorite songs, dissecting the lyrics, relating them to my life. Easily finding hidden meanings to the words echoing in my headphones. My favorite songs touch places so deep in my soul that it brings me to tears. All this admiration for words… but no urge to write. It never made sense to me, and I never dug deeper.

One day (hehehhahah) I got a journal. I had seen a video of a girl who had been keeping a journal since she was 13. She was in her mid twenties and had years and years of her life documented. I thought about how amazing it would be to be able to read my 15 year old thoughts. They’d be immature and uneducated, and not all that great I’m sure… but being able to know exactly what I thought, on a random Tuesday in my 15 year old life, that would be amazing. I thought about how my 50 year old self might appreciate my 20 year old thoughts in that same capacity. I started writing as often as I’d let myself. I struggled to write when my handwriting was too messy, when I felt I had nothing to write about; nothing that important to say. Every small insecurity I had subconsciously tacked onto my writing abilities now glaringly obvious in the pages of my journal. Finishing off my entries with “P.S. my handwriting looks horrible today…and I know this was kind of a boring entry! Sorry!” Apologizing to myself?? For my own abilities?? For my own thoughts and ideas?? That’s when it clicked. I didn’t hate writing; I wasn’t bad at writing; I was scared of writing… scared of being judged. Writing in any format showcases your inner thoughts…your original ideas. I didn’t want anyone, myself included apparently, to be able to judge my mind. Is there anything more personal than ones own thoughts? More specifically a journal? Theres no form of writing more intimate than writing in your own journal. I had written for months with so much anxiety and restraint before I realized just how much I was holding myself back. I wrote about love; thinking I had found it, and the harsh reality of finding out I hadn’t. I wrote about friendships, work, good days, and bad ones. All with such apprehension. Holding back from pouring out anything I deemed “too dramatic” or “ too deep”, as if this wasn’t the exact place I should feel safe doing so. It’s sad really. Looking back at the problems I was going through, and realizing how much quicker I would’ve been able to get through them, if I had given myself the grace to write freely. You can heal a lot of pain by writing it down on paper. But not if you leave out all the terrible parts.

I don’t consider myself an incredible writer now by any means. I don’t consider myself a writer at all. But I know now that I actually do like to write. I still struggle to find the right words, and I know for certain my journal is full of grammatical errors. But I’ve decided my thoughts mean more than any mistakes made while I express them. That’s progress for me. My new goal is to find beauty in my own writing. I’m really not asking for much from myself this early on in my writing journey. Something as small as the gratification I feel when using a favorite word (some examples: drat, superfluous, somber, ennui, rats! (Yes, used as an exclamation)) Is enough. It just feels good to let my thoughts be free, I’ve got far too many of them to let them fester inside for too long.

[demystifiedstardust]

Seelies

Not the mythological kind, the Gen//shin kind.

Ever since I started playing this dumb game, they've been driving me insane.

Cw unreality

Why do they look like that? Why are they that color?? That shape??? Why do they have that transparency and flow????

I dropped my tablet the first time I encountered one in Wind//rise. Why? Because that likeness has a very personal significance to me.

Way back in the day when I was quite young, we had a school assignment to draw god (outing my location through this anecdote immediately?? Rip to my cool guy persona). I (wisely imo) didn't turn in the assignment, but if I had followed through, my drawing would not have been supply-side Je//sus but rather a seelie. That same shape, that same color. Albeit much... larger. Much, much larger. Incomprehensiblely large. But still, the spitting image of Gen//shin's seelies.

The world has no shortage of coincidences, and I'm willing to believe this is one hell of a coincidence that I've found myself part of. But I really, really want to know what the design process was like for seelies. Why did the devs choose that likeness specifically? What design considerations were there? Are there discarded drafts? If I could get more information, it would put my overactive brain to rest. Or maybe make it worse, depending on the answers I get. HYV is a large, well-oiled machine of a company, so there must be some market-research reason behind their decision.

...but would I truly be satisfied with an artbook-commentary-style answer? Because at the end of the day, the way that design got into Genshin is only trivia. The real thing I'm grappling with is how to reconcile the divine avatar of my childhood independently cameoing in a video game. Of course, it can't be just any video game, but it has to be the same one that gave a name to my twin, and the same one that gave me a stable sense of fictional self that slotted itself oh-so-slowly-and-seamlessly into my life that I don't see a point disambiguating the "Aether" out of the "me" nowadays (and melusines, I guess, though that's more of an if-the-glove-fits thing). (...and the whale. But that's whole other post to screech about).

It's literally just a video game, meant to have mass appeal. But why does it seem to go beyond that? How does it manage to consistently target intimate parts of my life in such hyperspecific ways?? People joke about instead-of-brain-it's-[interest] but this damn thing is hopelessly rooted into my mind, and every time I think I'm getting used to the flow of things, it finds another way to poke holes into my sense of... self? sense of reality?

Like, I know the devs aren't reaching into my head and pulling out my memories, because that's not a thing. That's literally impossible, and even if it were somehow possible (and I want to reiterate that it's not possible and I don't believe it to be so), they would have no reason to do that. There's no benefit. But damn if it doesn't evoke a similar feeling to my memories being in there.

It annoys me greatly not just because it sounds so fake, but also because I'm not a fan of metaphysical thinking as applied to myself. It would be easy to call this evidence of [insert popular metaphysics], but I will never personally be satisfied with that. (Note: I support spirituality, and metaphysical beliefs are valid! I just have baggage to work through surrounding my own experiences.)

(Note 2: I realize this makes my shark past life hypocritical, but to go into it more deeply would derail the post, so it will have to wait for another time.)

Big props to the devs for sending me through such a mindfuck. Every major story update has me wondering what new plot beats are going to ripple through my life as though I'm a raft on a stormy sea. Ughhh.

[acircusfullofdemons]

PARAMAY DAY 13 (CREATION)

*inhales* oh boy, here we go…

Claypso was created on January 12, 2018, the day/day after I had seen the movie “The Greatest Showman”. It Unlocked something in my brain because the MOMENT I got home I pulled up Pinterest & started looking for inspo to make a Cool New ~*Self Insert OC*~. I can't really remember my exact thought process (who knows wtf 14yo Luka was on) BUT I do know I specifically made Calypso to represent "me". I would then joke for the next 2ish years on how, despite this, I made Calypso a boy when I identified as a Cis Girl. Idk I just find that fact so funny now that I’m nonbinary. (In the same vein, I also made him confident/proud of his bisexuality when I still had no clue if I was bi or not. We love projecting onto our own ocs/paras <3).

Calypso is the parame I remember actively making, thinking, "this Character is me but runs a circus" (I had just seen The Greatest Showman so inspo was strong there lol). Which is funny, because if you look at Cali, then look at me, I don't think you'd think/realize that?? His personality is very much…the opposite of mine lol. I am not a super cool extrovert that has multiple friend groups and goes on odd adventures. I’m on tumblr participating in a month-long oc challenge. Clearly something went wrong /j.

Uh. I made him at a time when I was questioning if I was Bi or not (I mean i was a freshman/starting highschool. Do any of us know who we truly are then?) so I kinda projected that into him??? In all honesty I feel like he should fall somewhere on the aro spectrum as well, since I'm aro & that's important to me, but I want it to evolve naturally if it at all happens so I won't entertain the idea just yet.

Funny enough, homeboy has always been a homeboy. Er, what I mean by that is, even tho I made him based off of me/representing me, having him be a (cis) male was one of my first decisions for him. At the time I wasn't 100% sure why, maybe I was influenced by the movie, which had Hugh Jackman star/play as PT Barnum, both males. But uh *looks @ nonbinary flag* I think there's a reason why now. Also part of the reason he's so feminine / """girly""" I guess. Tbh I probably projected into him a lot more than I realize (coughdaddyissuescough) but he is my parame & started out as a paraself, so it's fair.

Oh wow I haven’t even gotten into the original version of his story yet. It’s honestly not that different from how it is now, with a few minor differences. Originally, he was just the circus’ ringleader and died trying to save Clairette from a lion attack. The time loop was because he was the son of Persephone and Morpheus (yes..the greek gods…they were a thing in this once) so I think Persephone allowed him to be a Poltergeist?? OH and Macbeth was his half brother which made their relationship kind of sad because Cali genuinely wanted a sibling relationship but Macbeth just wanted him dead (Macbeth is a Reaper and his job is to collect Souls Cali is literally a lost soul do u see the problem here).

The VR stuff was always canon (except for that brief period of time where I got insecure and it wasn’t and everything was just their normal life which made things less confusing but also there was literally no plot lmao). Idk what else to say uhm fun facts: 

His default playlist is a little over 8hrs long and is currently the longest playlist I have on Spotify (that I listen to. My instrumental playlist is a little longer but tbh I rarely touch it).

He used to have gold eyes. They were quickly changed to blue and got shifted into the turquoise they are now! In addition to that, his first design used to have him wearing an actual ringleader outfit. He also used to have black hair, then light purple, and finally the dark purple it is now. In total he’s been through roughly 7-8 redesigns.

Cali is combined with a previous character, Anthony Morningstar. Anthony was inspired by Pride!Roman (an AU of Roman Sanders from the webseries “Sanders Sides”) and is the reason Calypso is now a prince! I scrapped Anthony because I had no idea what to do with his character and felt like him & Cali were too similar to really justify them being different people.

The tarot cards that represent him are “The Magician” and “Page of Wands”.

“A Million Dreams” from The Greatest Showman is his theme song.

....this is all probably Too Much. hm. have the first drawing of Cali I ever did (it is from 2018 😞)

[excusethequality]

My 2024 in Film: March, part. 2

I keep pulling open this draft, making a couple changes, then getting cold feet and deciding to finish it later. But not anymore...

I'm gonna finish it right now, goshdarnit!

It would appear that in the back half of March I was watching some really random shit. So I feel compelled to mention that if you see me watching a large string of movies that make you question my sense of taste as a whole, it's usually a sign.

When I'm working on projects like drawing, or editing images to make stupid jokes, or inputting data into lists, I like to put on a little movie to help me stay on task.

Since I do need to pay attention to what I'm doing as well, I'll usually put on something I've seen before, or something a little silly that I know won't demand 100% of my attention, lest I miss any subtle nuance or stunning cinematography.

Similarly I also put them on when I'm having trouble sleeping, because when you're sleepy but not sleeping your brain can't keep up with the big league players and needs something simple.

So while I do watch weird and obscure movies for fun and sport, I'm not just living in the sewer. There's some good things in here too, I swear!

In other news, while I tag my original posts, I feel like I should also have a specific tag to use for these movie lists. So if you have a good suggestion of something fun to use as a tag for them, let me know.

And with that shopkeeping out of the way: onto the movies!

* = rewatches

58.

Wishmaster

(1997)

— Fantasy Horror Directed by: Robert Kurtzman

An appraiser accidentally releases a Djinn trapped in a gemstone. If she wants to be free of its terror she's going to have to find a way to beat it at its game before it can force her to make three wishes, freeing itself to destroy the world.

I'm pretty sure I have never seen this before, BUT a friend did once tell me the plot and have me watch the opening scene. So for a brief bit after I started it had me wondering.

To my friend's credit the opening scene is truly something. They just unleashed the practical effects team and seemingly told them to make whatever weird shit they could think of. If I remember anything from this movie years from now, it'll probably just be that scene.

The rest of the movie is not nearly as epic, but it has it's moments.

File this under ridiculous movies to watch with friends.

59.

Wishmaster 2: Evil Never Dies

(1999)

— Direct-to-video Fantasy Horror Sequel Directed by: Jack Sholder

A robber steals the Djinn's gemstone and now... That's right! If she wants to be free of its terror she's going to have to find a way to beat it at its game before it can force her to make three wishes, etc, etc.

A fair bit worse than the first one. It has some fun and wacky moments though.

Even more so than the first, it's not something I'd recommend watching without a friend to laugh at it with.

60.

Wishmaster 3: Beyond the Gates of Hell

(2001)

— Direct-to-video Fantasy Horror Sequel Directed by: Chris Angel

A college student comes across a Djinn trapped in a gemstone and, well, you know the rest.

In case you were wondering, yes, there does come a time when I regret going down certain movie rabbit holes.

For the Wishmaster movies, this was the point that I knew I made a terrible mistake. Especially since I knew I was going to have to watch the next one. Because I just can't bring myself to quit when I'm so close to the finish line! I've gotta finish the series off, right?

Are the first two movies great? Not especially.

But they have their own weird charm.

To be specific they have two things going for them: Andrew Divoff's oddly weird yet memorable performance as the Djinn, and the spectacle of the crazy wish granting.

This movie has neither of those things.

I'm not even sure that the filmmakers are aware of what an ironic wish even is, because so many of the wishes don't even make sense. Add that with the fact that they have no budget to speak of resulted in even the wishes being dull.

I will give it this, while I'm pretty sure I'll forget most everything about this movie by the end of year, there's one part that I can't unsee. At one point the protagonist makes a wish so absolutely bonkers that I had to pause the movie and walk away from it for a few minutes to digest what just happened.

61.

Wishmaster: The Prophecy Fulfilled

(2002)

—Direct-to-video Fantasy Horror Sequel Directed by: Chris Angel

A woman comes into possession of a gemstone housing a Djinn. But what happens if her third wish is something the Djinn can't grant?

I'll say this about it: Michael Trucco is a way better actor than the dude they got for 3. He's still not up to par with the original guy, but significantly better than the previous one.

I don't even know anymore. I think it's better than 3? But mostly because it's just profoundly weirder? Like, I don't wanna do spoilers or anything, but it's a weird idea for a plot that somehow gets weirder as it goes on.

But it's the same director as 3 and I believe they were filmed immediately after one another, so don't expect it to be too different.

Also if all the Djinn need to do is grant someone three wishes to free themselves, then why do they do this monkeypaw shit at all? When you fuck someone over right out of the gate it makes them significantly less inclined to make more wishes. Just grant the people their stupid whims, then destroy the world or whatever, you dummies. No wonder you got your dumb ass trapped in a stone.

62.

Freaky

(2020)

— Slasher Comedy Directed by: Christopher Landon

A serial killer's attempt to kill a high schooler goes terribly wrong when they wind up switching bodies instead.

A movie I was excited to see, but never got around to because it came out during COVID. I'm a big fan of the director's previous movie (Happy Death Day) so I had high hopes for this.

I dunno, it's fun. It's nothing I'd write home about, but if I had seen it in the theater I wouldn't have left with any regrets. It definitely relies more on performances than plot. But both Kathryn Newton and Vince Vaughn are doing a great job. It's a fun premise competently done.

Also, was my high school just poor or do most high schools not have cryo-freezing gym pods? Because that part confused the hell out of me.

63.

Magic

(1978)

— Thriller Directed by: Richard Attenborough Based on: Magic by. William Goldman

A magician turned ventriloquist on the verge of a big break has a breakdown and must figure out if a life with the dummy is what he really wants.

This movie has a bonkers cast: Anthony Hopkins, Burgess Meredith, and Ann Margaret? Obviously I had to watch that.

It's kind of exactly what you'd expect from a thriller about a ventriloquist dummy? Apparently it had a theatrical release, but it has serious made-for-tv vibes. I mean, it's hitting all the beats on the made-for-tv checklist.

Small cast of big-name actors whose names will catch a viewer's attention? Check.

Limited set locations? The vast majority of the movie takes place at a remote cabin, so definite check.

Based on a book? Check. Made-for-tv things LOVE being based on books. It's easier to adapt than create fresh, and you get name recognition from the book to entice more viewers.

I was gonna say it had a low budget, but apparently it actually had a pretty decent one. I don't know where it all went, but I'm gonna assume the majority went to getting those actors.

I don't think I'd recommend it to anyone who's not a film nerd though. It's fun seeing such big time actors in roles likes these, but I can't say the plot is anything to write home about.

64.*

Mad Max: Fury Road

(2015)

— Post Apocalyptic Action Adventure Directed by: George Miller

A man on the run from his past and a woman with her eyes on the future must team up in order to escape an evil warlord.

I was just watching this at home, but if you've never seen it before and you come across a chance to see it on the big screen? Take it. It's a movie that thrives on the big screen.

I was never big on the Mad Max franchise, but my gosh, this movie just goes so hard.

The effects and cinematography are top notch. And unlike so many action movies, it actually has a great story and really interesting characters.

Plus can we talk about Charlize Theron? She's so good! I know this surprises no one—because she's always good—but the emotional weight she brings to the movie is what really takes it into the upper echelon.

65.

Hell Comes to Frogtown

(1988)

— Post Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Action Adventure Directed by: Donald G. Jackson & R. J. Kizer

In a world where fertile humans are a rare and treasured commodity, a fertile man is forced into indentured servitude on a mission to free a group of fertile women from a group of mutant frogs so that he can impregnate them for science.

Somewhere between Cult Classic, 80s Cocaine-fueled madness, and Soft Core Porn, we find Hell Comes to Frogtown.

I'll give it this: it takes a brave group of people to dare to make a movie this deranged.

And yet, for something so incredibly weird, it's also incredibly forgettable.

I don't have anything much to say about this. It is exactly what it sounds like...except both much weirder and much duller than you're expecting it to be.

Think Super Mario Bros. (1993), but with more scantily-clad ladies, less manic energy, and less ambition.

Definitely the sort of thing to watch with a friend, because you'll want someone there to verify that the things you're seeing are real and not just a fever dream.

66.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2

(1986)

— Slasher Horror Sequel Directed by: Tobe Hooper

A radio DJ becomes the target of a family of cannibals.

I'm starting to feel that every Texas Chainsaw movie has to have a character I hate SO MUCH that it taints the whole movie for me. In the original it was Franklin. In this one it's Chop-Top.

I no longer remember what I thought this movie was going to be like, but this is not it. No one is going to get this reference, but this movie has some shocking similarities to Nothing But Trouble (1991). If that movie was inspired by this I would not be surprised.

(Nothing But Trouble didn't have Chop Top and did have a cameo from the Digital Underground, so clearly it improved upon the formula.)

I really wish I liked this more, because I quite like Stretch as our lead character and I was actually having a great time in the first third. But then Chop-Top showed up and I blocked out most of the rest for my own mental health.

67.

Sharks of the Corn

(2021)

— Trash Directed by: Tim Ritter

There's sharks in a corn field...because of reasons!

I cannot properly express to you the pain it caused me to have to replace Tootsie as the worst movie I've seen this year. But it truly forced my hand!

Quite possibly the worst piece of writing I have ever seen. I don't even want to believe that a human wrote this. If you told me AI wrote this and they just went with it without making a single change? I'd believe it.

Actually, I'd be thrilled to know that that's how this came to be.

I have seen literal small children write stories more coherent than whatever this was.

If this isn't the worst movie I see this year, please pray for me, because it would take something truly monstrous to take this out of last place.

68.

Next Friday

(2000)

— Comedy Sequel Directed by: Steve Carr

Deebo has escaped from prison and Craig goes to live with his Uncle and cousin in Rancho Cucamonga

Overall I didn't like this as much as Friday, but I still had a good time. I definitely missed Chris Tucker though.

69.

Zapped

(2014)

— Sci-Fi Comedy Directed by: Peter DeLuise Based on: Boys are Dogs by. Leslie Margolis

A high school girl whose mother's marriage has just given her a new set of brothers lucks out when her phone gains the ability to control boys.

I...I don't even know what to say.

Disney channel movies are crazy.

Definitely something to watch with a friend...unless you grew up with Disney channel movies, then you're probably desensitized to their specific brand of oddness and are fine to fly solo.

70.

It's a Boy Girl Thing

(2006)

— Body-Swap Rom-Com Directed by: Nick Hurran

Two high schoolers wind up switching bodies after making a wish in front of an ancient relic.

The hunt for experiments in gender continue!

And the results are in: this is not one of them.

This is once again a Freaky Friday scenario. And also another one where both actors are playing a gender as opposed to playing the other character.

This just strengthens my theory that Rom-Coms are the most unhinged of all genres. Because some parts of this get so much crazier than I was ever expecting.

71.

The Music Man

(1962)

— Musical Rom-Com Directed by: Morton DaCosta

A grifter's plan to scam a small town into investing in a town band hits a snag when he catches feelings for the local librarian.

Right off the bat, can I mention that getting towns to invest in a fake marching band has got to be the world's weirdest con job. Like...what? There has got to be easier ways to con people out of money.

After loving Robert Preston in Victor/Victoria I wanted some more of him. And while I have seen a school production of The Music Man, I've never seen a film version.

This might be a weird take, but having now seen this as a film, I think the only way to properly see this musical is to watch a Middle/High School production of it. It just works better that way.

I can't properly explain why, but trust me on this. Go see a school production and then try and tell me I'm wrong. It's just got a weird sort of energy that can only be properly captured by youths playing adults.

72.

Promising Young Woman

(2020)

— Drama Thriller Directed by: Emerald Fennell

A woman plagued by regrets from the past is forced to confront what her mission of revenge means for her future.

I was curious about this one, but if I'm remembering correctly it came out right at the start of COVID...so I never did. And then I heard people saying it was too heavy handed and I never wound up seeing it.

But when I was working at the theater a coworker's praise for it made me want to give it a watch. And they were right, because it's not what I was expecting.

Anyone who says it's heavy-handed or a one-note story were not paying enough attention to character beats. I can see how someone would watch this and come away thinking it's just a Rape Revenge movie about a woman on a mission to get back at men.

But if you look a little closer you'll see it's actually the story about a woman who lost her best friend to the patriarchy and the confusion and guilt and horror of that drives her to self destructive acts.

She's compelled to try and do something, anything, to fix a system that one person just can't fix. And her inability to affect meaningful change on her own compels her towards increasingly dangerous acts.

It's not a story about justice, it's a story about living in a world where justice is impossible and no one wants to talk about it.

I dunno. There's so much going on under the hood of this one. I'm definitely going to have to see this one again.

73.*

Long Shot

(2019)

— Rom Com Directed by: Jonathan Levine

An internet journalist is hired as a speechwriter by his former babysitter (aka the current U.S. Secretary of State) in her bid for a Presidential run.

Oh, friends, this one has me conflicted!

Charlize Theron is phenomenal and makes the film. I'm still not a huge Seth Rogan fan, but I'll admit that I like him more in this than usual. June Diane Raphael is always superb. O'Shea Jackson Jr. was a delight until his character came out as a republican.

I really want to love this one, but I can never seem to suspend my disbelief enough to really get into this. American politics long ago killed any sort of hope or trust I could have in the political system. So the whole movie I'm just thinking that either she will cave in to the myriad of forces trying to stop progress or those forces will conspire against her and destroy her career.

But you know me, I'm a sucker for Charlize Theron, so I'll definitely wind up watching it again at some point in the future.

(Also, this is neither here nor there, but Todd McFarlane sucks. Of all the comic artists you could choose from, why would you choose him? Did he bribe you with baseballs or something?)

74.

Hey...Stop Stabbing Me!

(2003)

— SOV Horror Comedy Directed by: Josh Miller

A recent college grad desperate is forced to take a chance on a shady housing opportunity.

I always feel compelled to explain myself when I have to mention to you all that I watched things like this, lest you judge my tastes too harshly.

I watched it because I saw it on a list of movies that were filmed in Minnesota and it sounded weird and it was on Tubi.

I had a number of things I thought I'd talk about as I watched it, but then it started making some statutory rape jokes. So why waste my time discussing it?

Fuck this movie. It's stupid.

The two guys who made this went on to write the 2020 Sonic the Hedgehog movie. Which just goes to show that the world is a truly strange place.

75.

Friday After Next

(2002)

— Christmas Comedy Directed by: Marcus Raboy

Christmas time is right around the corner and Craig and Day-Day have to come up with a way to pay their rent after they're robbed by a man dressed as Santa Claus.

Would I have decided to watch this one if I was aware it was a Christmas movie? Probably not! But you know what? Sometimes you just gotta play the cards your dealt.

Still not as good as the original, but I still had a good time.

76.

Luca

(2021)

— Animated Fantasy Adventure Directed by: Enrico Casarosa

Two young merfolk take to dry land in search of friendship, adventure, and freedom.

On my list of actors I just don't like you will find Jacob Tremblay. I usually don't like to throw child actors under the bus, but Tremblay seemingly made a name for himself by portraying kids with various mental and physical disorders? (Ones he does not have mind you.)Room (2015), Burn Your Maps (2016), Wonder (2017), The Predator (2018).

And I know you can't really blame a kid for taking such roles in the way you'd blame an adult. But still! I think he's nearly 20 now. Maybe I'll feel better about the cringe of his career if he is ever like, "You know what, looking back on it, I wish I hadn't played an autistic character in The Predator." But until then I reserve my right to dislike his performances and general career path.

Anyways, this is just a really long way of saying that I had to switch it off English, because I have no desire to listen to Jacob Tremblay for an hour and a half.

It would have been nice if the disc had the Italian audio track, given that it's set in Italy, but both the French and Spanish dubs were superb.

Overall it's cute. Not sure I'll remember much of anything about it a year from now though. It approaches some bigger themes, but never fully commits to fleshing them out.

In The Little Mermaid they really establish Ariel as a character and get into WHY she yearns to break out of her status quo and stand on her own two feet. And here, it's more or less just some kids being kids and liking to explore and get away from overbearing parents.

Which is fine and all, but I've seen that storyline 1,000 times before, so unless you really do something new with it, it's liable to get lost in the crowd of my brain.

77.

The Colony

(2013)

— Frost Punk Horror Directed by: Jeff Renfroe

Humanity's attempts to control the weather have resulted in the planet being blanketed in a permanent Winter, driving the last remnants of civilization into underground bunkers to survive. But if you had a chance to set everything right, what would you be willing to risk?

I spent a lot of this movie wondering where I knew the main dude from and I finally broke and looked it up. He was familiar because he was the main guy from It's a Boy Girl Thing way back up there in movie #70.

And speaking of actors I just don't care for, let's add Bill Paxton to the list. I wasn't sure about it until this movie, but I've decided that I just don't care for his performances. I don't think he's ever pretended to have autism for a role though, so let's put him somewhere above Tremblay.

Laurence Fishburne is in this and the highlight of the movie. I hope he got paid a lot of money for it, because dear gods, he is way too good for this movie.

I don't even know what to say. It's not a good movie. It's just a bland sort of thing that floats halfway between Sci-fi and Horror and is too afraid to plant its flag anywhere solid.

I don't really see any reason to watch this unless you're trying to watch Laurence Fishburne's entire filmography.

78.*

The Other F Word

(2011)

— Documentary Directed by: Andrea Blaugrund

The followers of the Punk movement believed in living fast, dying young, and challenging authority at every turn. But how have those ideals changed now that some of those men are now fathers?

I had seen this in theaters back when it came out and I liked it then and I still like it now.

The main criticisms I see are ones that say that it tries to do too much, and I'd actually agree with that. It never really picks a lane. It could do a deep dive on how the ideals of a punk movement that never expected to live this long have changed now that they've gotten older. They could do it on what does parenthood itself mean to these older punks and how their pasts have influenced their parenting style. And more.

The film kind of does a little bit of everything. I wouldn't say it does anything poorly. I just think it has stumbled onto a fascinating topic that I want more from. So I love it for showing me what it could and leaving me wanting more.

I think it's a really great documentary.

I really only have two criticisms:

The Jim Lindberg bits were the only parts I'd really change. Some of them felt like a different kind of documentary altogether. I get it's because the idea for the movie comes from his book "Punk Rock Dad," but still. Those parts sometimes veered more into a biography style of documentary at times.

I don't think there was any real reason to have to be solely focused on fathers, instead of looking at parents in general. And it's especially weird to me that the framed it that way but then prominently feature Laura Jane Grace's song "I Was a Teenage Anarchist," even though their framing won't let them interview her, even though she is a parent too! I'm a fan so I've read her memoir and seen interviews with her and I know she has a lot she could add to the topic of punk icons who are now parents. As could lots of other punk parents.

But as a whole, I think it's a great documentary that both gives you a lot to think about and a desire to seek out even more information about these people and the history of the punk movement.

79.*

Weekend at Bernie's

(1989)

— Comedy Directed by: Ted Kotcheff

An opportunity for two low level employees at an insurance company to get in good with the big boss goes wrong when the boss winds up dead. But...what if no one knew he was dead?

I haven't seen this since I was in high school and going through a phase where I was renting all the classic movies that I had always heard about to see what they were like.

My thoughts about it then are the same as my thoughts now: they had about 20 minutes of good ideas for the premise and then stretched that shit out into a 97 minute movie.

The result: weirdly forgettable considering the premise. There's some memorable scenes, but the plot is just there to service the concept. The characters are there to just service the concept. And because of that there's never any real stakes.

Not really something I'd recommend unless you're like me and are interested in seeing something that's been referenced quite a lot over the years for yourself.

80.

Gun Crazy

(1950)

— Crime Drama Directed by: Joseph H. Lewis Based on: "Gun Crazy" by. MacKinlay Kantor

Two gun lovers find acceptance in one another, but their relationship is put to the test when dreams of a grander life drives them to risk everything.

Some movie-loving friends had great things to say about this one so I figured I'd give it a shot. And I'm glad I did because it really surprised me.

I'll give you this warning though: don't judge it from the beginning. Just trust that it'll get significantly better.

Honestly my only real complaint with the movie is that some parts felt entirely superfluous. Like, I think if they cut out like 30 minutes I would have been singing this one's praises.

Part of that 30 minutes would be the entire beginning set up bit. Not only is it weirdly hokey, but nothing in it accomplishes anything that couldn't have been established with a line or two of expositional dialogue in a different scene.

The whole thing is beautifully shot in black and white. Great performances. Some just banger bits of dialogue. Just a real gem. Highly recommended.

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March Stats

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Movies watched this month: 44

Rewatch percentage: 12.6% (6/44)

Favorite new movie of the month: Dick Johnson is Dead

Least favorite: Sharks of the Corn

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Previous Months' Posts:

JAN | FEB | MAR.p1

[jin0]

Andrew Has Babies On The Brain [Andrew Garfield]

(gif is not mine, all credits go to the author)

Summary : Andrew seems to love seeing you pise in front of the camera's. What he'd love more, is to see you flaunt your beauty with a belly full of babies. And you might grand him just that.

Pairing : Andrew Garfield x Reader

Warning : Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY, smut, creampie, breeding kink, pussy job, pussy whipped Andrew, slight dubcon (you gotta squint), kinda subby andrew, cockdrunk/cum hungry reader, basically all filth and a little plot (i fought my own brain to find a storyline here, i swear i did), titty worship, kinda manhandling, oral (m and f receiving), handjob while driving (don't do it kids), fingering while driving, pet names, other stuff that i defo forgot so yeah

A/N : the way i wrote 10k of smut again ??? and i forgot the plot mid writing ?? i genuinely BATTLED to finish this thing

_________________________________________

Andrew wasn’t the prideful type, ever. He was actually known for his self degrading ways that were turned more towards the funny side rather than the embarrassing one. Nevertheless, Andrew wasn’t the classic alpha, macho prideful type guy. He could dominate you if he wanted to and he definitely did, regularly but he never made it his mission to dominate you. Now, one thing he was proud of was you. You were his biggest pride and joy, truly everything to him. This would turn into regular possessiveness from him that would then turn into mind blowing sex with him fucking himself so deep in you, there was no way for you not to scream how much you were his.

You’d think, over time, he’d get used to how proud he was to be yours. It would make sense even more since he became your husband. You both married pretty young, right after you’d finished college. He was young and so in love for you, both sets of parents were terrified to even try and talk you out of it. The way you loved him was also like no other, your way of knowing everything about him and his mood before he did simply outstanding. You two completed each other like soulmates would and it wouldn’t be a reach to think you were, indeed, fated.

But to go back on his pride, you were his pride and joy, his everything and it became an even more blatant fact as he watched you pose in front of the cameras and paparazzis. The photographers were calling his name but he was looking at you and you only. Nothing other than the ease and comfort with which presented yourself to the people could bring such a smile on his face. His hand around your waist, you turned and posed for the people as if you were born for this and he couldn’t help it, that unhealthy, primal desire he had to scream in front of all these people that he was yours and you were his in more than a simple girlfriend and boyfriend way.

Because yes, you were married, but no one knew other than your close friends, family and the members of the cast (and by members of the cast, he meant the directors and Emma, the nosy intuitive girl that you both liked and who had walked in on Andrew calling you his wife). The public and the fans had no idea and you liked it that way.

Did this stop him from wanting to reveal it every time someone made a comment or hit on you or him ? No. The amount of time he held back from flaunting his wedding band in the faces of those flirting with him was astronomical and it even became a ridiculous running joke between you both that you’d never have to worry about losing him to someone else because he’d be the first to lose his shit and start a rant on how utterly perfect you were for him and the world.

No matter what he tried, his efforts to seem discreet when talking about you all seemed useless because his urges were always stronger than his will. These specific urges could never be contained when he saw you look so stupidly gorgeous in front of hundreds of cameras. The pride he felt seeing all these people look at you and you only had his heart swelling and beating out of control. He could see you, flaunting yourself in front of these camera’s and could only love you more, there was no vision better than this.

Except there was one thing that would make it better : a baby in your belly. Because yes, Andrew had babies on the brain. How could he not when everything you did made it impossible to not dream of a family with him ?

~

Coming home from the premier and the after party, you two were already all over each other. The car ride had been painfully long, too long to your liking as you tried not to cause an accident while your husband drove you back to your shared apartment. You’d been so aroused that he had to settle you with a hand nestled between your thighs, pumping his long fingers deep in your heated core and trying not to let his own aching erection drive you both into a tree.

In a desperate and dangerous attempt to relieve him, you’d offered your slick soaked panties to him, letting him moan your name in the piece of fabric while his knuckles turned white from his grip on the steering wheel. Your soft fingers wrapped around his thick girth, you pumped him vigorously, feeling your own release get close when you saw the pearly droplets of cum around slowly dripping out of his tip. The praises he chanted, his eyes tightly shut at every red light, made your head spin, feeling the urge to straddle him and ride him until your legs gave out under you was more than urgent.

How could you not want to watch your sweet pussy swallow his thickness and rip out nasty sounds of pleasure out of him soft lips ? He presented himself to you, unbridled desire exposed to the eyes of anyone who looked a little too close inside the car.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, we’re gonna have an accident sweetheart… Fuck, c-can’t cum just yet… You gotta let me park or wait but fuck, slow down… Can’t cum just yet…” He pleaded, his focus slipping out each time your manicured thumb rubbed the slit on the head of his cock.

Fuck, that exact move made him want to cum gallons all over you. He could see it, your sweet body, naked under his and covered in hid cum, just whining in pleasure as you begged for him to use you more. That exact type of thought was what made it impossible not to dream of you, belly full of his child, waddling about and calling out for his help a little more each passing day.

Your thighs tightening around his arm, you rode his fingers in slow hip rolls, digging the nails of your free hand into his suit covered skin.

“Andrew… Please, I need more… A-Ah, please baby… Can’t wait too long, gotta cum… Please baby, let me cum…” You cried out, biting your lip and swallowing your desire to stuff him deep in your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… Baby, I’m begging you, please, can’t risk it bunny… I know you feel good, god I can feel it… Pussy’s clenching around my fingers…but you gotta wait, when we get home, I’ll have you cum all over me… I’ll get you full too, so full you’ll be leaking for days, I’ll keep your pussy messy with my cum...”

“Oh, Andrew… Fuck, can feel it… Your cum… Want it inside… Wanna be full and dripping… Keep me full until I can’t walk anymore… Until I get all heavy and pregnant with your babies…” You mewled, rolling your hips on his and using his hand for pleasure.

In this exact moment, he pressed on the gas harder than ever, desperate to get home a’d get to work. He needed to get you all set up for that, he needed to get you prepared for what he was going to do to you. Fuck, this would be messy.

“Shit… Fuck, baby you gotta wait okay ? For me ? Wait a little, just a little… Fucking hell bunny, you’re so wet, so, so wet… Need to taste you or I’m going to lose it… Pretty pussy’s dripping all around my fingers… Imagine how much you’d be dripping around my cock ? All that sweet juice, can’t let it go to waste… Need it around me… Needa have you dripping on my tongue…” He mused, already daydreaming about the things he’d do to you once you were home.

He was frantically driving, mind jumping between a thousand thoughts, all directed towards you and you only. The small puddle that formed inside your dress and soaked it wet had his stomach tightening in desire, balls full and ready to spill and get you as dirty as you needed to be.

When you both arrived home, he was jumping out of his car, running to your side and pulling you out to carry you in his arms. Your thighs wrapped around his waist and your arms his neck, your fingers slid into his messy hair and pulled on the roots tightly. You could feel the bulge pulsating under you, all warm and soaked with your slick as you moved at the best of your capacities to rub yourself on his thick bulge.

You’d been moaning loudly into his mouth, a little louder each time his hands lowered on your skin. You squirmed and whimpered when his fingers grazed dangerously close to your dripping folds ready to part open as soon as you felt his digits near.

Your clothes, as fancy as they were, were thrown to the side and long forgotten when both your naked bodies, arousal so visible on your husband’s body when you looked down. You could see him, every piece of what you’d done to him. The thick, pulsating girth that throbbed over his stomach, needing all the attention you could give.

When his hand firmly gripped on his sac, desperately seeking to relieve the pain he was feeling, you were ready to drop to your knees and make use of your mouth. He looked magnificent, as exposed as he was on his first day on Earth, his deep brown eyes piercing holes in your skin as he dreamt of the things he’d do to you and the sounds you’d make in return. You could only submit to his will, down on your knees and ready to take whatever treatment he’d give you. In this moment, you were only a sweet meal ready to be devoured and enjoyed fully.

~

If you’d seen the state of his mind as soon as his hands took hold of your waist, you’d understand why each of your words fell into a deaf ear, heard but ignored or taken for sounds of pleasure (which they were). He could only hear you beg while his tongue worked hard to bring you to heights of pleasure you’d never reached before. Feeling him all around your body, your own mind was so bent, you were certain that your cells had taken his DNA and made it home in your mind. He was turning you into a vessel of his mindless, arousal fueled acts.

His fingers, added to the mix, spreading your walls wide and making your body feel like it was repeatedly being split in two, you bit down on the fabric of the bedsheets and tried to contain the amount if your own spit you choked on each time he’d go back into your tight, warm hole and press into your flesh as if he had a mission to fulfill towards your insides.

For what felt like hours, turned into different positions, all as mind numbing as the previous , you took and took and took, practically losing your capacity to speak a word that wasn’t a praise to the wonders he’d do to you. His name sounded like the only thing on your mind and it wouldn’t be wrong to see it that way, his entire being nestled so deeply inside you while you rode his face desperately.

Fuck, you looked so divine above him, makeup pouring off of your face because of the tears you’d shed every time he’d fuck his warm tongue into you and through an orgasm that would have your entire body shaking and your legs too weak to even stand. You looked like a goddess taken out of some ancient mythology, brought back to the human world to feel his love and let him serve you pleasure and happiness on a platter.

Your walls were so wet, he felt the slick run down his face, mixing with the loads of cum he dropped inside your dripping cunt earlier. He could still vividly see the way you squirmed while he straddled you, his hand firm around his cock. He’d made a mess of your pussy and admiring your body take it all willingly. You looked made for this, to carry around his seed and have it grow inside you.

~

After hours of sucking your insides and ripping orgasms that had your vision blurry and your belly tingling in anticipation, you had pleaded to please him a little. This was his night after all, the outing that started it all was in his honor and you ached to please the man you loved.

Pleasing him you did in more ways than you could even think of, the simple vision of you was enough to break him down to pieces, tearing him apart and putting him back together, hungry for a taste of you. His eyes scanned your entire body, watching you with both love and desire as you knelt obediently between his parted thighs. His muscles were tense under your soft fingers. He inhaled a sharp breath when they neared his balls, so full and veiny, ready to be emptied on your skin.

“See that Bunny… See how hard I get for you ? Felt so fucking needy the whole day, cock so full. Can’t keep it all to myself, you know ? Gotta get you messy all over, you’re still so clean, too fucking clean.” He grunted, pumping his glistening shaft in his fingers.

The golden wedding band he slipped on as soon as he laid you on the bed, fucked out to perfection and whimpering his name, was glowing under the light inside the room. He had made incredibly good use of his fingers, spreading them inside you while your beautiful hand stroke his cock. He could barely see straight, his vision blurred by clouds made of the sweet scent of your cum drenching his face. His need to taste you before he stuffed you full never ceased to amaze you.

Riding on nothing, you whined shamelessly when the cold air came to torture your dripping folds. Your soft lips wrapped around small pieces of skin on your husband’s thighs and bit his skin, closer and closer to his sac, until you reached it. Your mouth opening wide, you swallowed the lump of skin, sucking onto it and rubbing your tits on his knees, you cried out when you couldn’t reach the amount of pleasure you were looking for.

Your brain settled for taking the matter into your own hands, grabbing on your flesh and kneading your breast vigorously while you pushed his legs further apart, needing to have a mouth full of his balls.

If you could see the way you looked, dreamy as ever, trying to stuff your narrow throat with his balls while his cock rested lazily on your face. You rubbed your nose all along the shaft, greedy to feel the entirety of him inside your mouth but too small and stupid to have him fit of think of the right way to make it work.

“Andrew… G-God Andrew, can’t… Can’t make it work… Needa make it work… Too big baby, cock’s too big, I can’t get it to fit…” You moaned, small tears forming in the corner of your eyes in frustration and cock hungry desire.

His poor bunny girl, couldn’t even use her dumb brain to get her mouth stuffed like she wanted. Sliding his palm around the back of her neck, he pulled you back, smiling when you whimpered loudly at the loss of contact.

“Shhh baby, calm down bunny. Can’t think of a way to get your pretty mouth full huh ? Need all the help in the world to have my cock all the way down to your pretty throat ?” He cooed, looking down on you with true tenderness, the kind he reserved to you only. Grazing the front of your throat, he pressed into it, chuckling when you let out a small gasp that he felt vibrate through your skin. “Bet you’ll fell me all the way here. Pretty sure I’ll even see myself in there. What do you think Bunny ?”

As soon as the last word escaped his mouth, you opened yours wide. Good girl, perfect wife you were. He thanked all the deities up in the sky as he grabbed him and slowly entered your mouth. He slid down into you, never going faster to give you time to breath but fuck was it difficult. He wasn’t wrong, he could see the bulbous tip of his cock show throw your esophagus. You looked completely out of it, probably due to the loss of oxygen and the feeling of his tongue filling you up so nicely already.

You could never get used to his size when inside you, too big to fit but always so eager to try. It was heaven on earth to feel the creamy substance drip down your throat already. So much cum that had been wasted on his stomach or on your back while you sat on his face. All of it, you needed a little bit on your tongue.

Sitting back down and guiding your face towards his hips, he cradled your cheek with a loving smile and let you work on pleasuring him and you both. He could practically smell it, your slick pouring onti the floor and down your inner thighs. Your twitching pussy was just as desperate to be filled as you were.

You quickly picked up the pace, digging your nails in his thighs and holding onto him while you fucked your own face on his cock, the obscene sounds of dripping drool and his balls slapping against your chin fueling you with arousal. This was the duty you’d chosen, stuffing your throat full of his cock and letting your pussy rest after hours of abuse. Your senses were overwhelmed by the salty aftertaste he left in your mouth at each drag of your tongue on his shaft.

Every vein, every bump, every parcel of skin a little thicker that the rest, you felt it all, your blood travel to your heart and making it beat so fast you could feel the beating in your cunt. You could barely breath but it was all worth it, everything was worth seeing him lose himself into you. His entire body was tense, chest flexed and neck extended to throw his head back, all in hope to not cum as soon as his eyes would lay on you.

He couldn’t resist it, the vision of your cum stained face, hungrily sucking him dry and milking his cock to perfection. He’d have you belly full enough to satisfy your hunger, that he promised it. His balls swelling up with more cum, he smiled down at you, feeling that same pride he felt earlier spread through his entire being.

“Fuck… Look at you Bunny, pretty little Bunny you are. With a pretty ring on her finger and a pussy dripping sweet, sweet, heavenly juice just for me. Keep moaning like that baby, keep ruining my dick with that pretty throat. Yeah, fuck, a-aaah… Fuck… That mouth is to die for Bunny. Could spend my whole life in there.” He moaned loudly, guiding your head on his girth as he rolled his hips against your lips.

Fuck, he was so happy to be your husband. Only him could get this treatment, your beautiful face all flushed and messy with tears, cum and drool dripping everywhere. You stayed consistent, raising yourself higher on your knees and resting your chest on his thighs. Your fingers ran up his leg to lay on his stomach for a few seconds before he grabbed your hands hastily. He felt like he was falling, his body was deprived of sensations that wouldn’t have him spinning. The knot that formed at the bottom of his stomach, building up each time you’d moan around his member kept his feet shaking and his hands tightening around the back of your neck.

“A-Ah, fuck, Bunny you’re doing so good… Treating me like your last meal baby… Fuck, good girl, sucking me so well…" He muttered, eyes fixated on you while he met your own movement and pushed his hips on your mouth.

You swallowed hard, letting all the liquids in your mouth descend into your stomach and let him slip out slowly. Your eyes never left his face, only closing when your own pussy would make the vision too much for you. Running a hand down your stomach, you twirled your thumb on your clit, crying out around the tip of him cock. Your tongue lapped on the head, hands wrapped around the base, and you softly sucked on the slit.

“A-Andrew… P-Please baby… Need your cum…” You mumbled, dropping tender kisses all around the man’s swollen cock.

This had been all that was needed for him to spill out into your mouth and all over your face. His deep voice resonated into the room, probably echoing all the way down the stairs. With a tight grip, he pushed you to swallow him one last time, which you did eagerly, letting his cum spread inside your mouth and down your throat.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you pushed your palm on your stomach, a warmth enveloping your insides when you felt his seed fill you up. Your hunger satiated and your brained filled up with bright clouds of happiness and true pleasure, you swallowed each and every drop he pored down your into you.

The taste and smell of arousal shook your body and swarmed your sensitive clit with desire. Letting him slip out of your warm mouth, you stared at his manhood still hard and standing straight, painfully begging for what he really craved the whole night. You could see it in his eyes, the way he’d been eyeing you since you got on your knees, hell, since you crossed the door.

Standing up on trembling legs, you reached down to stroke your clit and run your fingers through your folds. As soon as your as met his thighs, he gritted his teeth, grabbing two handfuls and pushing your flesh on his. The feeling of your wetness dripping on his skin had his mouth salivating, drooling shamelessly in front of you. But when you moved to sit on his lower stomach, his cock resting nicely on your backside, he knew he would be cumming again very soon.

“Aah… Ah, Andrew… Fuck, if you could feel how full you got my stomach baby… Feel so, so full… Can you feel it ? Look…” You urged, grabbing his hand to place it over the small part of your stomach that had swelled.

“Fuck Bunny… Fuck, that’s me in there… My cum got your stomach so nice… Got so cum hungry, I couldn’t keep it to myself… Had to much to offer you Bunny… So much cum to keep you satisfied…” He moaned, a fucked out smile stretching his lips.

He leaned towards you, needing to feel your lips on his. When his face neared yours, he quickly pushed his tongue into your mouth. He was getting drunk on the taste of his own cum on your tongue. You, yourself, could cum instantly when the distinct taste of your own slick mixed with your saliva. Kissing loudly and messily, your hands roamed his body while his stayed around your hips, guiding them back and forth to coat his cock with the slick that dripped out of you.

You rode his shaft, teasing another orgasm out of the both of you and feeding on the pleas that escaped him. He needed you, deeply and so, so desperately. He watched you rub your pussy with your fingers but never truly pushing them inside you. Your just play with your folds, letting him rest on his thirst for more. He wanted to see you pleasure yourself, fuck your pretty cunt with your fingers and moans into his ears how good it felt. He wanted you to use him like he loved to see you do.

“F-Fuck baby, please… Fuck Bunny, don’t keep me waiting… Please, let me see these pretty fingers spread inside you… Please you gotta let me see you fuck yourself over me… Please Bunny, please…” He groaned, rubbing his nose on your cheek and kissing you passionately.

You stayed quiet, only moaning his name while slowing down on his cock. Glistening under the lights, he watched you coat him wet of your juices and use him like some inanimate object that was good only for your pleasure. That’s who he was, an object in your hands, ready to be used over and over again, until he hand nothing more to give, until he was cumming dry, crying for you to let him rest.

Observing him with lust clouding your vision, you bit your lips in desire, this man was so desperate for you, it filled you with an unhealthy pride and need to bring him to his knees, exactly like he wanted. You took out your fingers from your cunt and away from your clit before shoving them in his mouth when you felt your orgasm come.

White light wrapped around you and blinded you to everything around when his warm seed shot out of him and on your back. Moving just enough to hover above the tip of his cock, he watched in awe as you spread your pussy open and let his cum shoot up directly into your warm heat.

This had to be a dream, taken straight out of his deepest, darkest fantasies. He couldn’t believe it. His wife, the woman who owned him, mind, body and soul, was right there, opening her magnificent pussy to let him fill her up just right. She was so desperate for his cum, crying out the wonders of the creamy substance that covered her insides, that she was ready to let herself be covered in that manner. She couldn’t be real, not to him, she had to be made straight out of his imagination or his dreams. She was too perfect in his eyes to be.

The only way for her to ever be more perfect would be while carrying a heavy womb, filled with children you’d make together.

In that instant, it could be doubted how absolutely pussy whipped he’d looked and how worst he turned in a matter of seconds. That singular act of you getting yourself messy with his cum cemented in his mind, the need for him to fuck a baby into you, or two, however many you’d want. He just knew he had to or he would die on the spot, his balls exploding with the overload of cum he kept inside of him. It was too much to bear, keeping his need to fuck you silly at bay had his mind melting into a puddle straight into his dick.

When you grabbed him tightly in your hand, he had to move, do something. He couldn’t keep dreaming awake, begging for you to sink him deep into your channel. His head hung loosely in front of yours, letting you guide his tip towards your clit and nudge it so slowly, his heart could stop beating if he didn’t feel you come all around him. His grip on the edge of the seat was iron tight, his nails digging into the leather that stuck to his skin and burned him like hellfire itself.

“See that baby ? Feel how warm my pussy get’s for you ?” You purred against his forehead, rubbing your nose on the crown of his head and trying to move him to look up and into your eyes. You knew he couldn’t, not when he was this overstimulated.

“Yeah Bunny… Yeah I feel that… Fuck, yeah I feel my pretty pussy… Fuck, I need her… Need her so bad…” He cried, pushing his face towards you and pursing his lips to kiss your tenderly.

The softness of the act, probably meant to soften you up, only pushed you away from the idea of stopping the torture you inflicted him. This soft bubble of love that pour around you when his arm wrapped around your waist made your belly tingle and your mind grow hazy.

“God I’m so wet, it’s dripping everywhere… Getting you all messy… I’m sorry baby, so sorry… Can’t help it… Just feels so good to have you in my mouth… You taste so good baby… You cock felt so nice in my mouth… So full and creamy…” You whined into his mouth, swallowing his moans and sucking on his lip.

His hips started moving on their own, jerking into the tender skin of your hand and pulling another load out of him. This one he needed to see it inside you, he needed to get your insides messy with it. The guttural need he had to kiss you was what lowered your guard, giving him the opportunity to reach for what he truly wanted from you.

His warm palm cupping your jaw, he pressed it open allowing himself another taste of you, your delicious sweetness as addictive as drugs would be. He couldn’t resist it, your lips so supple, warm and inviting. All of you was designed to break him and turn him inside out. His cock twitched as soon as he got to feel your tongue on his.

“God, you taste so good Bunny, so fucking good… Can’t get enough of that pretty mouth…” He muttered, leaning towards you and slowly taking back the power from you.

Softly grabbing your wrist, he moved it at a slower pace. He needed to cum inside you, he needed to know that you could feel inside you what was yours, he needed to give it all to you. The frantic look on his face was to die for, a testimony of his eagerness to get inside you as soon as possible. Before he broke right into the palm of your hands.

When he reached for you clit, stroking it delicately, your own thighs started to shake all over again. That sensation of your body pushing itself to the limits to grant him a proof of your pleasure and your love, the things he did to you.

Too drunk on pleasure, you gave in, letting him take your hands off of his cock and hold them instead. He pulled them to your back, kissing you deeper than before while his thumb kept on stroking your sensitive clit. Your swollen folds bare on his skin, his thighs were directly drenched by your wetness. He could feel your insides, pulsating on his muscle and unabashedly using him to reach your own high. You worked yourself on him, ignoring his subtle attempt at nudging your entrance open for his tip.

You pulled away to breath, inhaling a big ball of oxygen and letting it fill your lungs. You hadn’t breathed in a while it seems because as soon as you opened your eyes, your blurry vision noticed your husband smearing the little drops of cum on his tip all over your sensitive bud. His soft eyes laid on you, drinking in your sigh.

“A-Ah… Ah, Andrew… God, Andrew I can’t… Pussy’s too sensitive… Can’t do this, please baby, not yet…” You begged, holding on his shoulders and dragging your nails down to scratch his skin.

His mouth quickly shut you up, covering yours for another passionate kiss. Your lips were warm and sweet, tasting like honey straight from the hive. You were the sweetest honey ever, he could feel the cavities already. Nothing could compare to the sweet taste of you.

His mind wandered in deeper holes when his lips lowered to kiss your cheek, your chin and bite pieces of your neck. He sucked on them long enough before repeating the motion elsewhere, until your skin was entirely covered. He pulled you to hos chest with the arm that still held your hands behind you and stuffed his nose in your breast, deeply turned on by the two swaying in his face.

He wanted to chuckle at the idea of being turned on. He had clearly gone stupid, his brain softly crumbling all over his cranium and proving yet again that he simply could never express entirely how good he felt every time he had your body exposed in front of his. His vocabulary shortened as his cock got harder, all his neurons disappearing when you came in.

“Fuck… Fuck baby, I can’t… Can’t keep it in, gonna cum Bunny… I need to cum inside you… Please Bunny, lemme get you all messy and full…” He pleaded, pressing the bulbous tip of his cock into your heated core.

You shook your head, too sensitive to survive his cock spreading inside you.

“N-No… Please baby, not yet… Can’t handle it…” You whimpered, your hips stuttering when you felt his caress on your clit with the tender head of his cock.

He couldn’t stop himself anymore, his tip well placed on you. He couldn’t even try and think of a way out, his body working on autopilot to nestle himself slowly In the comfort of your warm walls. Feeling your juices spread on his tip, dripping over him to perfection, he could only give into his urges.

“Oh god, oh fuck ! Oh fuck, fuck, baby fuck… It’s going in Bunny, I’m putting it in… Fuck…” He moans, pushing inside you and biting back a pained gasp, feel the overwhelming tightness if your walls swallow him whole and suck in his next orgasm.

His lips stayed on your, whispering yeses softly while you whined no repeatedly, begging for him to not enter you as you wouldn’t be able to take it. You were too sensitive, too raw to be able to take it, to be able to handle his width breaking you down from the inside. But it felt so good, feeling him slowly invade you had your breath caught in your throat.

You tried to refuse him, laying your hands flat on his chest and pushing softly with teary eyes while he kept you close. His large hand held your nape and kissed the side of your face tenderly, his breath fanning your warm skin and hitting your ear. You could hear his raged breath, the internal fight that he was living, too sensitive to himself handle your pussy but his entire being desperate enough to try. He needed to try, he needed to have you wrapped around him, and then, he’d fulfill his mission.

“’M sorry Bunny, so sorry, fuck… Your pussy… Feels too good… Can’t stop, I’m so sorry… You forgive me huh ? Please, f-fuck, tell me you forgive me… Please, can’t survive it… Fuck…” His voice sounded so strained, as if there was more in him that he was holding back.

You didn’t know whether or not he was telling you that he couldn’t survive you being angry at him or if he was saying he couldn’t survive your pussy but either you’d take and enjoy thoroughly. Either was perfect, the sheer desperation in his voice enough to fuel your ego and have you drench the plush head of his cock with slick.

“A-Andrew… Ah, please… W-We… can’t… Please… Please Andrew… Can’t do it anymore… Can’t baby…”

“Yeah you can baby… Look,” His hand caressed your cheek to lower to your jaw and move your head to see the part of you both that joined. Your pretty cunt, wide open and spreading even wider for him, it was happening. “You’re doing it… You’re taking me whole Bunny, so much of me…”

In a few more movement, whispering soothing words to calm down your quivering thighs, he fully penetrated you, buried to the hilt and your pulsating walls vibrating on his sac. He felt pure relief travel through his being and through yours too. He was fully merged with you, a connection that transcended the human level of anything.

His heartbeat as fast as the motor of a sports car or a rocket ship, he pressed you down on his thighs as hard as his muscles allowed without hurting you. Hurting you was the last thing he wanted, unless you asked from him to do so. Right now, all he desired was to tenderly let his every cell soak into the pleasuring and delicious taste of you, starting from your center.

Your own hands reached and searched for him, the brain shattering orgasm teasing it’s arrival a little more at each beat of his heart inside his member. You both shared the same feeling of being merged together, two hearts beating in one commune body. This would be as close as you’d get to sharing a body, and seeing how codependent you both seemed to be when being intimate, it was probably for the best.

Your nails dug deep in the flesh of his back when your body was moved to be fully pressed to his chest. He caressed the side of your neck and tilted your head to the side, exposing your flexed muscles, tender and sensitive to his expert touch. He knew everything there was to know about pleasure and giving it to you. There was no need to try and escape him, not when he knew how to get you to be perfectly softened and pliant in his hands.

“Feel that Bunny ? Feel my cock ? How desperate it’s been for that pussy of yours ? You feel how nice it’s sitting inside you ? Feels perfect don’t it Bunny ?” He whispered, sucking on the veins of your neck that showed.

You mewled softly on top of him, your walls suckling on his shaft and searching for more cum to drench your insides with. Overwhelmed by his size and the softness of his touch on your naked skin, you let yourself be guided by his large hands. He took his time getting you settled, tenderly caressing your back before moving his hips in slow circles.

The small sounds of pleasure you let out directly in his ear had his heart hammering harder against his ribcage. You were so responsive to him, so good, perfect even. The slight movement of your own hips synced in with his to meet his thrust had blood rushing down his veins straight into his cock. This was perfect, you were perfect, he’d never cease to say it, think it, feel it.

Seconds turned into minutes and the pace shifted to a quicker one, your walls tightening around him and making it harder to not cup on the spot. It had been difficult for him to keep it in this whole time, the amount of times he avoided cumming in his pants today being absolutely brain shattering. This effect you had on him, bringing him down to the same level of restraint that a teenager, he was baffled that he managed to hold on this long without cumming more.

Slowly loosing the tenderness and self control he had earlier, he quickly accelerated his movements inside you, and showing more force towards you. You moved like a doll on top of him, dependent on his desires and the way he wanted things to go. His hands, still tight around you, descended towards your hips, holding them firmly before letting his fingers crawl towards your ass that he gripped with passion.

His hold on you was desperate, attempting to hold your whole being in one go and attempting to bring you an overwhelming amount of pleasure as soon as he could. Guiding you from there, he pushed you down, your pussy pressed on his lower stomach and on his sac, he pushed into you repeatedly. You swung your arms around his shoulders and held onto him for support.

“-A-Ah ! Oh fuck, Andrew ! Fuck, t-this… this… F-Feels too good ! Please baby, please Andrew keep going ! God, cock feel so good !” You sobbed loudly, mouth open and breathing hard on his cheek.

Fucking into you as if it was his only task, you could feel the bruises form on your ass, the death grip he held on you, marking his ownership to you. Because he’d never say it out loud or even think it, but you knew better. You had no reason to lie to yourself when you body screamed it regularly : he owned you. Beyond the legal papers that stated that you both were bounded by matrimony and all that shit, even before that. He owned you, mind, body and soul. And the same way he owned you, you owned him.

“Fuck ! God, oh God ! Andrew, m-more ! Please… More, please ! G-Gimme more !” You cried out, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a incoherent string of sounds. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck ! P-Please, baby… Please don’t stop ! So, so fucking good ! Cummin’, I’m cummin’ baby !”

The obscene sounds of your thighs slapping against his while he controlled your movements on top of his large body resonated around the room. These were one of the moments where you’d be thankful for his fame, avoiding the embarrassing explanations and apologies you’d give your neighbors for your loud cries echoing all through the floor.

The vivid sounds of your pussy being repeatedly slapped by his balls only drive him to slam you down on him harder, searching for you both to be the only things that could be heard. His balls meeting your cunt, over and over and over, your wetness dripped down your inner thighs and drowned his senses, as if calibrated to smell you. The overwhelming sweetness of your juices and you scent mixed with the taste of you still on his tongue, he was still covered entirely in you.

His thrust were violent into you, making the seat rock back and forth before it fell when he abruptly stood up, your thighs held firmly in his hands. He was rough, fucking what was probably been hours of restraint and control over his urge to fuck you senseless.

Traveling to the bed, you were unceremoniously dropped on the mattress and your legs were parted open as far as the could reach to not only grant him more access but open the window to the beautiful vision of your swollen cunt taking his fat cock like a charm and begging for more. Greedy you were, sucking him dry and keeping you full.

Your husband slowed down to observed, mercerized by the vision of your insides deformed around the tip of his cock. He could see the faint shape of his cock show through your lower stomach and felt his balls tighten, full and ready to get you full.

“F-Fuck Bunny… Can’t keep going pretty… Gotta get you full, put a baby in there… Look,” He motioned for you to look down, towards your stomach, changing and molding to the will of his girth. He smirked when seeing how blissed out you got as soon as you saw what he wanted you to see. “See that ? I Can get it So warm and full, so pretty too… We can get a pretty baby in there Bunny, get you heavy and waddling all around in front of the cameras…”

The grunts of pleasure coming out of him made your head spin, you felt small and dominated by his primal acts, the desire to be filled coursing through your veins as if you yourself had a mission to fulfill. You needed to feel him inside you for hours, days even. You needed to cradle your stomach and feel the round shape understand your fingers. You needed to let him see for himself how greedy you could get with your hormones all over the place. You wanted Andrew to fuck you full and keep doing so even when your womb would already be occupied by the seed he’d planted inside you.

You wrapped your legs tightly around him and pulled him closer, reaching out to his and scratching the base of his stomach in a pathetic wiggle to get him deeper inside you.

“A-Andrew… Andrew please… Please, please, please, gimme one… Want a baby, please Andrew… Wanna be full, so full I can’t do anything without you… Oh God, oh God, oh fuck ! Want you to fuck my tits full of milk for our baby, please Andrew, please… I need it, gimme a baby !” You wailed, looking at him with blurry eyes.

You couldn’t see yourself right now, you definitely couldn’t but if you had been able too, you’d understand why he was so hard right now. Cumming once wouldn’t be enough, that was for sure, but that was fine. He’d make sure to get you fuller than ever before. You already looked like you’d been pushed to the brink of insanity, but when he’d be done with you, you’d look truly out of your mind.

Slamming his hips harder into you and watching your ass bounce against his skin, he bent down to catch you nipples between his lips. He sucked on both with hunger shining in his eyes, the kind that he only showed when he’d be granted the privilege of tasting your sweet, honey and vanilla scented skin. He let go of your flesh in an obscene plop that resonated in your ears and made your insides twitch. You let go of the sheets and ran your hands through his hair to push him into your chest when he caught your second nipple and repeated the act. You arched your back, giving him access to more places to suck on while you rolled your hips against his, meeting his thrusts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck ! God, Andrew, can’t keep it in ! Baby, cummin', cummin', Andrew I’m cumming ! Feels so, so good !” You screamed into his mouth when he covered your for a kiss before leaning his forehead against yours. The sudden intimacy had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

His thumb lowered to your sensitive bud, rubbing circles around it as the head of his cock plowed into your cervix. The swollen skin of your clit tingled on his fingers, giving him the response he wanted. You cried louder when in a quick change of position, he hammered into you while pulling on your ankles to slam you against his cock and strike into your deepest part.

Messy hair, drool dripping from the side of his mouth and looking wrecked inside and outside, he watched you scream his name as loud as your vocal cords allowed, cumming all around his cock and drenching the soft sheets under you. He’d never see you cum this hard before but it kept going, his own release flowing over you and making your poor helpless figure tremble harder. Your legs locked him in place inside you, shaking hard but staying strong around his waist.

He was fascinated by how cum hungry your pussy was, so tight around his waist, he felt like his seed was being syphoned out of him. He couldn’t move or this rationally either, a wreck, he was a wreck above you. His eyes clouded by more than desire, they were clouded by devotion to you. He’d made you a promise and he was doing a very good job keeping it. There was no place for doubts or suspicions here, his confidence in his capacities to put a baby in you by the end of the night was at a 100%.

Pulling out of you, he watch your swollen cunt quiver and drip out pearly drops of cum, watching it sip in and out of your folds. His eyes couldn’t get away from the mess you had both made on your pussy, watching it coat your skin and the bed in a pretty white puddle.

His hands started moving on their own, grabbing his cock, still hard and raised high over your shaking figure, and rubbing the plush head between your folds, smearing his cum all over you. Your eyes, red and swollen from the tears you’d shed earlier and all while he fucked you senseless, watered all over again. You were too raw to handle this kind of teasing from him.

“Ah… No… A-Andrew… Andrew please… Can’t… Can’t take more…” You mewled, your head spinning and your eyes rolling when your felt him tease your clit with the slit of his cock.

You bit your lips hard, trying to contain yourself from squirting all over him, your previous orgasm still too fresh to handle that kind of torture. Poor Bunny was too sensitive, too overwhelmed. He’d help you cool down before filling you up all over again. Crawling on top of you, he straddled you and presented his cock to you, letting it rest on top of your nose and smiling when you crossed your eyes to see it before raising a timid glance at him.

“Go on Bunny… Taste us before I get back to her. You know that after this you won’t get to think rationally or at all. So taste us before you get all stupid and giggly on cock.”

His words could’ve been a request but your pussy was doing the thinking for you, and what an obedient girl she was, thoughtless and only ever needing him to be satisfied. You’d let her get you in so much trouble before and here she was again, doing her usual number and still winning. You laid your hand on his thighs and suckled on the tip of his cock, feeling your insides warm all over again and ready themselves for more of this to cum very soon. He took away his cock and leaned down over you, kissing the tip of your nose before kissing your lips and making sure to get a taste of you both. This would be a long night for you both.

~

For hours, the sound of wet skin slapping against each other, leaving your flesh tender and sensitive to the soft touch of the air, resonated around the room. You’d both been cumming all over the other, leaving more than a trace of you or more than a simple mark on the other.

His cock hitting the perfect places inside you, what you’d remember was his grip on your body and the ways he’d fuck your brains out while whispering the sweetest words there was. You both needed each other in this moment but he was supporting you. You were a wreck in his arms but he was holding you steady on top of him. This last position he’d chosen was more of a way to come down the violent highs you’d been through already.

He kept you sitting on his lap, his chin on your shoulder, a hand holding your breasts and kneading it vigorously while the other arm wrapped around your stomach and caressed the small bulge left by the amount of cum you’d swallowed and he’d poured into your womb. You were falling asleep in his arms, his girth still deeply nestled inside you and twitching from time to time. He had you bouncing in this position earlier but now he wanted to bring you back to a calmer state of mind.

Kissing your skin tenderly, he rocked you from side to side, his deep voice whispering the things he’d been thinking of the whole night.

“If this takes Bunny… You’ll look so divine, can’t even handle the thought of it… Your belly will be so pretty, all round and swollen… And I’ll carry you everywhere, no more walking for you. Fuck, we’ll drive wherever you want and get you all the things you ask for little baby…”

You chuckled softly, caressing his hand over your stomach.

“How do you know there’s a baby already ?” You wondered, looking at him through hooded eyes.

It was his turn to chuckle, kissing your cheek, nose and lips tenderly. You were more than beautiful in these moments, you were one of the wonders hidden by the world and given to him to protect and worship. He was yours to love and adore and these moments proved more than anything else, how deeply you yearned for each other.

His palm was firm on your stomach, cradling whatever was in there now. He could feel it in his soul and so could you, the tender flesh above your uterus feeling warmer than ever and so welcoming. You’d discussed a baby before and you wanted to have some with him but both your careers were taking off and you deserved to settle down and enjoy the married life before. So you kept your wishes to yourself. But here you were, in sync with each other and desiring the same thing.

“I know that there’s something in there because of my fatherly instinct. And no matter what, we’ll put in the work to make sure we get our little us in a few months.” He moved his hips against your ass slowly, ready to get back to it just to make sure. “We’re going to get us a little baby, adorable little one looking exactly like you to run around and steal my heart all over again. I’ll be outnumbered but it’s fine, it’s a battle I’m ready to lose.”

The laugh that echoed in the room made his heart jump, ready to leap out of his chest. You sounded so happy, he could barely contain the love he felt, and the image of another little you just made him die inside.

“We’re going to start a revolution in this house Garfield. Me and little us, we’re going to win this house and make you our servant.” You chuckled, kissing his forehead tenderly and his lips out of habit.

“This sounds like a great time to me Bun Bun…” He responded, his eyes focused on your lips. He bit his own, hungry for kisses and soft caresses from you. “But let’s make sure you get you little ally first okay, can’t risk you not winning this war can we ?”

Yeah, you both already saw it, the red carpets with a full belly to present the world and a future war to begin. That was the dream.

[tsuriaa]

Oooooo!!! Hihihi!! I saw your post and had to def give it a go!! But self aware au but with the roles reverse! Like instead of them being the characters but like imagine us as the characters in their game :0 and maybe mc being their fav and they somehow they get pulled into the game and it’s a dream come true for both sides since they really wanted to meet each other NAD BEISKWN ONE POST ISNT ENOUGH TO GET ALL THE BRAINROT IDEAS OUT AHSJD

wait is this somehow related to my fictional mc brain rot post?? cuz if so tHEN YOU ARE AN ABSOLUTE GENIUS ANON, THE IDEA I HAD IN MY MIND WHEN I POSTED THAT BRAINROT WAS THE MC BEING TRANSPORTED TO THE TWST UNIVERSE WITH THE CHARACTERS BEING AWARE OF THEIR IDENTITY AND NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THE CHARACTERS BEING ISEKAID TO MC'S UNIVERSE INSTEAD LMAO

sorry for the caps but I honestly feel like that if some of the twst boys get transported to the fictional!mc's world — some will try to go along with the novel's plot and stay low while still being close to fictional!mc as much as possible meanwhile the others will definitely try to ruin the novel's plot for fun and probably even try to romance fictional!mc ahahahahasksks-

ok jokes aside, so the twst boys were isekaid to fictional!mc’s world right? But for some reason couldn’t leave fictional!mc’s world even with the assistance of the dorm leaders, until an unknown entity suddenly appeared right in front of them and told them they couldn’t leave fictional!mc’s world until they completed the storyline and got a good ending while also managing to heal fictional!mc’s inner child

But the main problem that the boys have was that the novel that fictional!mc was in, was just published three weeks ago and became a massive hit to twisted wonderland, which also means that the author still haven’t finished the storyline or even fully revealed fictional!mc’s backstory and that even made their chances of going home low since there was literally no way to find out about the ending of the series without the possibility of ruining the storyline yet alone finding out the true source of fictional!mc’s trauma and can only use the bits of information revealed about fictional!mc’s trauma to try and heal their inner child, so it’s basically up to them to create their own “good ending” in behalf of the author.

the next part that I had in mind when you sent this ask, is 'how did fictional!mc become self-aware of their existence??' simple. Fictional!mc was very suspicious of how some of the twst boys tried to avoid the question about the topic of their home especially when they were literally sweating bullets as if they're hiding something from them.

Normally, fictional!mc wouldn't mind, thinking that their friends probably got bad memories from their hometown and would no longer try to pry into their friends personal life. But something was telling them that they were not the people who they deemed themselves to be, fictional!mc's suspicion on them only grew when one of the twst boys accidentally slipped out a 'specific minor detail' about what's about to happened next as it would actually happen later on while the other would harshly slapped their friends arm while telling them to shut up.

fictional!mc's first thought about them is probably just a group of magicians with the ability to see the future so fictional!mc didn't think too much about it and let them be as they could be useful during one of their adventures, in case anything bad happened

Not until a another unknown entity visited their dream to confirmed their suspicions that these so-called travellers who were also her friends — were already aware of fictinal!mc's identity at the start as a mere main character pasted on a paper.

Betrayal had never taste so bitter, don’t you think so my dearest?

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not so sure. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

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

Oh, you loved this man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

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

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

“I thought he was cool before.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

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

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

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

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

Of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it’s true. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I kinda do—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

epi-epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[rayshippouuchiha]

Yamada: so how did you and izuku start dating

Aizawa: I saw him crush a watermelon with his thighs and I accidentally said out loud “oh god I wish that were me right now” and here we are now

~The way this immediately and completely ate my entire brain~

Of three things Aizawa Shouta is absolutely sure:

One, he simply was not built for operating during the daylight hours. Nighttime really is where it's at in his opinion. The general lack of crowds and eye-searing sunlight just can't be beaten. (Dusk and dawn hours also get a pass but they're both on thin ice.)

Two, the beach is a sandy hell-scape whose only redeeming factor is the convenient access it provides to the eldritch horror that is the ocean aka the place he'll doubtlessly end up drowning himself when he finally, and according to Hizashi inevitably, snaps and runs gibbering mad into the abyss.

And three, he's absolutely and irrevocably cursed. He's being singled out and punished from on high by the gods themselves. His name is writ large across the cosmos in mockery. There is a cosmic "kick me" sign taped to his spiritual back and Shouta's going to hunt his former student Sero down and give him detention for life for encouraging his family's patron god to put it there.

By this point it's really the only logical explanation.

Which, as a card-carrying atheist, he's pretty sure is saying something about the depth of his feelings regarding his current circumstances.

Because there's no other explanation for why or how he's managed to find himself in this current situation.

The situation being, of course, Shouta, in full hero gear, standing in the hot sun on a pristine sandy beach, surrounded by screaming fans as he provides extra security and crowd control for the 20th Annual Heroic Sukiwari Charity Drive.

Shouta has seen hell and it is both Ms. Joke's open mic night and this exact moment right here.

Because, again, he's absolutely 100% cursed.

And the avatar of said curse is, obviously, his soon-to-be ex-best friend who somehow roped him into this entire thing.

Because some people say divine retribution when talking about cosmic revenge plots but Shouta tends to just says Yamada Hizashi. The two are, in many ways, interchangeable.

Shouta's going to put purify salts in all of Hizashi's hair products and also his sugar jar and possibly his energy drinks the next chance he gets.

Because if he never sees another shirtless pro-hero or another watermelon again in his life it'll be too soon.

He's pretty sure he has permanent hearing damage from all of the screaming and screeching the crowd's been doing since this thing started.

And if, after all these years of friendship with the personification of a megaphone, watching a bunch of pro's crush watermelons with nothing but their personal strength on a beach to raise money for various charities is what finally destroys his hearing Shouta is going to shave Hizashi bald before he finally embraces sweet death.

Or enacts Nezu's birthday plans and becomes a supervillain.

The jury's honestly still out at this point.

Shouta does his best to shut out the screaming behind him as one of the cameramen slides up beside him, getting a better angle on the stage as Hizashi, who's currently screeching about Miruko's performance, practically dances across the sand in front of where Shouta's standing.

"Wow, wow, wow," Present Mic chants as he dramatically fans himself, "that was one on heart-stopping, hare-raising show. Let's give it up for everyone's favorite bad, bad, bunny, Miruko!"

For her part, Miruko just struts off the small stage with a nonchalant wave to the crowd, her tiny white bikini in place and the pulverized remains of the half dozen watermelons she'd dropped kicked into soup left behind her.

"But don't lose that rhythm yet listeners," Mic announces gleefully. "Because we've got one more hero set to take the stage! So, without further ado, it's the moment I know a lot of you have been waiting for, myself included if we're being honest. The pièce de résistance of our little shindig, the showstopper himself, the one, the only, the #1 Can Do Hero Dekiru."

The crowd is absolutely deafening.

And, for once, Shouta has to grudgingly admit that he can't actually blame them.

Shirtless, sculpted shoulders and tight abs on display thanks to his low sitting and almost criminally short green swim shorts, and with his trademark bashful smile in place, Dekiru trots out from behind the curtained-off area with a crate of watermelons resting on his shoulder like it's no big deal.

Shouta's pretty sure someone to his immediate right faints but considering they're not currently a trample risk he ignores it.

But the casual show of strength with no quirk use in sight is more than a bit impressive.

For all that people, romance specifically, and attraction in general, have all been things to be considered on a firm case-by-case basis for Shouta, even he has to admit that Dekiru is ... captivating.

Rather drastically so for Shouta considering he's never actually met the man before in person.

Though Shouta does feel like he almost knows him on some level considering the fact that it really would take an act of the actual gods to get Yagi to shut up about his erstwhile protege during staff meetings.

Dekiru waves his free hand at the crowd as he sets his crate of watermelons down on the stage.

"Show us what you've got!" Mic demands from a few feet to Shouta's left. "And let's give him some encouragement listeners!"

The crowd starts up a loud and steady chant of "De~ki~ru!" as the hero pulls his first watermelon out and begins his set.

With an effortless flex of muscles, Dekiru digs his fingers into the watermelon and wrenches it completely in two.

Shouta reaches up to tug at the top of his uniform, relishing the small sip of cool air it grants him.

Shoulders and biceps flexing, another watermelon meets its end between Dekiru's palms.

Shouta really needs to add a water bottle to his utility belt because hydration is important. Or so he's been repeatedly told.

"Those hands, those muscles," Mic groans dramatically. "He really is the Can Do Hero!"

Cheeks noticeably flushed, Dekiru sits down on the stage and fits a watermelon between thick, toned thighs.

His hips twist, those thighs flex, and the watermelon cracks, spilling juice and sweet pink flesh all over Dekiru's lap.

"Oh god," Shouta can't help but say, "I wish that was me right now."

On stage Dekiru's eyes go wide as his attention somehow abruptly zero's in on Shouta.

It's at that moment that Shouta becomes aware of the deafening silence that's fallen over the beach.

Head-turning agonizingly slowly to the left, Shouta's confronted with the sight of Mic, microphone in hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

His sunglasses are askew and he's staring at Shouta with a look on his face that's one part horror and one part unholy glee.

As a matter of fact, the entire beach is staring at him in much the same way.

For a moment Shouta just freezes, body going still at having so much attention turned in his direction.

This ... was not the turn he was expecting the day to take by far.

His first instinct is to, honestly, use his scarf to slingshot himself directly into the sun so his soul can be cleansed with cosmic fire.

But then ...

"Ah," Dekiru speaks up from on the stage, one hand ruffling the back of his hair and cheeks darker than before, "maybe we could go on a date first though? If you'd like?"

There's suddenly a part of Shouta that doesn't actually want to delete himself from existence via self-immolation.

And there's an even large part that doesn't want to outright reject Dekiru's seemingly sincere offer.

Because, when it all comes down to it, Dekiru seems to be, by all accounts, what passes for exactly Shouta's type.

Whip-smart if his very public arrest record and tendency to argue online and on the air with people he disagrees with is anything to go by.

Cute, with that dark green hair and sharp undercut, matching wide eyes, and a face sprinkled liberally with freckles.

Leanly built and small enough that Shouta's sure he could move him around easily but obviously muscular enough to be able to put up just the right amount of resistance in the right situation.

And, above all else, if the stories are to be believed, obviously some degree of batshit insane.

More than one story Yagi had told during breaks had Shouta questioning if the man had imported special American demons back to Japan and then stuffed them all into the deceptively charming and approachable-looking hero that is Dekiru.

So there's really only one logical way to proceed forward in this situation.

Shouta grins.

Several people in the crowd around him step back.

He's pretty sure he hears someone start reciting a prayer.

But Dekiru just blushes, eyes locked on Shouta's and teeth tugging at his lower lip.

"Hope you like coffee," Shouta finally says into the breathless silence that's fallen over them, "and cats."

Dekiru lights up, a smile brighter than the sun and twice as deadly blossoming across his face.

Just off of Shouta's side, Hizashi's busy having some kind of hysterical seizure.

Around them the crowd is going absolutely feral.

Yagi's going to birth actual kittens in the middle of the staff room when he finds out about this.

Shouta can't wait.