#but not very much because we were fuckin first row

[dragestil]

hozier live at 3arena, 22 december 2023

(all pics by me, pls feel free to use w/ credit! <3)

[szasfuckingwife]

basketballer!Gojo who knew you from college. You often showed up to his games with your friend (who liked Suguru) and just, in the most uncreepy way possible , stare at him.

basketballer!Gojo who stayed in contact with you even when he went pro. The blinding lights of fame didn’t blur his deep attraction and fondness of you. Even on his least busiest day, which was still pretty busy, he made time for you.

‘Morning, my love…your smile lightens the world and my heart, love G.S’

You smile at the note that was amongst the several bouquets of red roses, your fave.

basketballer!Gojo who made sure he returned to you every night. Unlike his teammates, he wasn’t the type to go clubbing or anything similar. He was just a guy, obsessed with playing basketball and his girlfriend.

“Fuckin’ love you, Y/N…” He breathes into your ear. After a very deserved win, he made sure to let you know how much he appreciated your support. A string of whimpers left your mouth as his dick slid in and out of you. “Always so good for me, baby..”

basketballer!Gojo who, for some reason, gets a little jealous when you steal some of his spotlight. Maybe it was just an ego thing. He was fine at first when it came to you being called ‘WAG of the season’ after sporting some cute outfits. But then when magazines and publishers hit you up, something shifted.

It was no longer Satoru Gojo and his girlfriend. But now Y/N L/N and…what’s-his-face..?

basketballer!Gojo who you no longer recognised after a heated argument.

“You know, this is so predictable. I supported you since we were in college and the one time something good goes for me, you bitch and complain!”, you yell him, your index finger was firm against his chest. “It pisses me off, Gojo. I’m done.”

He scoffs, “I just think it’s too much. The red carpets and shit, I don’t get it.”

“You don’t get it because you’re used to me being just your stay at home girlfriend. Things change!” You release your own scoff to his response.

“Maybe I liked it that way because you had time for me-”

“But you never had time for me!”

basketballer!Gojo who has no comment to reporters when asked about the ‘break up rumours ‘with long term girlfriend, Y/N. But behind the scenes, he’s yearning for your forgiveness. He’s constantly at Suguru and your best friend’s house, hoping he’ll bump into you but you were never there.

it wasn’t until the season’s final where Satoru’s team were up against the undefeated (3 years in a row) champions. He was definitely shitting himself. As team captain, he was physically present, but not mentally.

But when he walked out and saw you in the crowd wearing his jersey, he suddenly felt calm. Were you attracting all the cameras? Yes. Were you dragging attention away from the game? At times, yes. But did he mind? No. For you were there for him. Even when you hated his guts.

basketballer!Gojo who fucks you like it’s his last night with you after his team won the finals. You can’t even remember how many times you’ve came but Satoru wasn’t gonna let you go.

“Toru-hnnnggghhh..! It’s too much!” You cry out real tears as he fucks up into you. He bites your shoulder, he wanted to be so close to you after so many separated nights.

“I’ve missed this body, I’ve missed you so much, baby. You have no clue…” He growls.

basketballer!Gojo who has the biggest grin on his face when paparazzi swarm him, asking about his engagement with Y/N. Truth be told, he hasn’t stopped smiling since he popped the question.

“Satoru, what’s next for you and Y/N?” A reporter asked.

“Babies. Lot’s of ‘em.” He smugly replies.

You’ll defo punish him for that comment.

[its-your-mind]

11 year old Gerry Kaey - a psychological analysis

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of two columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “First Name,” with “Gerard” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Last Name,” with “Kaey” listed below it. End ID]

Like everyone else, I was of course delighted by the presence of our beloved arsonist on our list of child test-subjects at the World Line 2 Magnus Institute (not delighted that he was having unethical psychology experiments performed on him, delighted by his presence. though it’s possible that this was actually a better childhood than he had with Mary. but I digress.)

(Data set can be found here, if anyone else wants to make a copy and play with it, and this post has my fave analysis of the sheet itself)

The data for Gerard Kaey was absolutely delightful, and it indicated more than almost anything else that some people were in fact the same (or very similar) across world lines. I was going to post about it and then I remembered that not everyone was forced to take a slightly outdated Educational Psychology class recently, and thus the random names at the top would not be indicators of fuckin anything without extensive Googling.

I figured trolling the internet for details on outdated developmental psychology theories and unethical sociology experiments is not most people’s idea of a fun afternoon (tho in the magnus fandom you never know); either way I figured I’d pull out the fun and interesting data on this goth child and translate it into human terms for us all to enjoy.

(QUICK NOTE: Pretty much all of these theories are outdated on account of being No Good and quite reductive and many of the experiments are EXTREMELY fucked up (all of which makes sense, given where these fictional data came from). If you’re curious about any of the actual psychological theories and criticisms, here’s a relatively jargon free summary, with further reading at the bottom. I’m gonna follow the time-honored tradition of psychology professors and say “well it sucks and was bad that this happened BUT it did happen and we might as well use the data to come to some general conclusions and/or ask better questions, especially about the people performing those tests in the first place.” anyway ty for coming to my TED talk ONTO THE GERRY DATA)

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of three columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “Kholberg,” with “Level 3” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Prosocial,” with “High” listed below it. The third column is labeled “Empathy Index,” with “95%” listed below it. End ID]

Let’s start here.

Kholberg’s Theory of Moral Development is a metric for measuring the moral development in children. It has three stages. A child who has reached the “third stage” demonstrates a consideration of the needs and feelings of others when making morality-based decisions and judgements, even above the norms and expectations of society.

Prosocial behavior is behavior that can be characterized as having no direct benefit to the person performing an action; something done entirely for the good of others.

Empathy Index is pretty self-explanatory (as far as I can tell, it’s not actually based on anything and is something the researchers created just for this experiment).

So far, we’ve got a rough picture of Gerry as a kid who has a strong moral compass, who is quick to help, even when there’s no benefit for himself. Who considers what the people around him might want or need. Who is able to throw social expectation out the window when someone else is in need.

Reminds me of that older, slightly different version of himself, sitting alone at a table in Venice, wearing a Hawaiian shirt because he’s “on vacation,” sighing in exasperation at the interruption and telling a stranger to think of her mother.

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of two columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “Milgram,” with “Low” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Asch,” with “Low” listed below it. End ID]

These are my favorite rows. They’re all the way at the end of the spreadsheet, which kind of makes me imagine that the testers had this image of a highly developed child, a kid who seemed perfect for whatever they had planned. And then…

Milgram was the motherfucker who ran the experiment where people were told to press a button, and when they did, another participant was delivered an electric shock. (there wasn’t actually a shock in Milgram’s experiment, just an actor pretending to be shocked. The socks were fake, but the psychological damage was real!) The test was designed to measure how long people would continue to do what they were told by the “scientist” running the test, even as the electric shock appeared to grow stronger. A “low” score is indicative of someone who bailed out ASAP, no matter what the test-runner said.

The Asch Conformity Experiment put a large number of people in the room (most of whom were actors) and showed them a series of images of lines with different lengths, and they had to identify which was longest. The actors all gave the correct answer for the first few, and then all of them started to give the exact same wrong answer (i.e. all of them would say B, even if Line A was clearly longest). The test measured how likely a subject was to conform to the group opinion, even when they knew the people around them were objectively wrong, if they were the only one offering a different (but correct) answer over the course of several rounds of images.

I have this super clear image of little Gerry in a ratty pair of jeans and a band t-shirt, long hair absolutely unbrushed, walking into a room with a dude in a lab coat and someone else strapped to a chair and IMMEDIATELY getting suspicious, and just refusing to press the button again once he realized what it did, leaving the actors just… lost as to how to proceed. And then with the Asch test, he’s just sitting there with a look of incredulity on his face looking at the people around him and saying “do you people need fucking glasses all of a sudden? it’s not fucking B.” and just ignoring them for the rest of the test.

and all of the Magnus people who had been VERY excited about this promising young person all of a sudden realizing that they have accidentally recruited a VERY intelligent juvenile delinquent.

so there you have it! World Line 2 Gerry Kaey was kind when he didn’t have to be, he didn’t give a shit how other people felt about him, he cared deeply for other people, UNLESS of course they were people in authority, in which case he told them to go fuck themselves.

*dreamy sigh* that’ll be our Gerard

final fun notes:

Gerry has the second highest number on the Empathy Index at 95%

The only kid who beat him, with a score of 98%, was 9 year old “Samara Khalid”

10 year old “Conner Dyer” scored “Low” on the Milgram and Asch tests JUST like Gerry. I wonder if they were friends.

Other than that, Dyer is almost exactly average among the rest of the data

Khalid scored “High” on both Milgram and Asch

Wonder how that’s gonna affect things 👀👀👀 high empathy, high value on what other people think

Sam thats so autistic of you I love u

Khalid was also on “Level 3” of Kholberg and had “High” levels of Prosocial behavior, despite being only 9 (super young to have the abstract thinking necessary for that)

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

still can’t write for beans these days so here’s a little snippet I did back in Nov ‘22 about Gareth meeting Eddie for the first time… enjoy!

The early morning sun streams golden across the football field at Hawkins High. A few dozen kids mill about, waiting on the band director to show up and get the tryouts started. Most of this week will be spent on various marching band auditions for incoming freshmen, but first up is one of the most important: the drumline.

Gareth Emerson had started out the morning feeling fairly confident. He’d been in marching band since sixth grade, so he had plenty of experience, and he’d practiced everything in the audition packet nonstop until he could practically play it in his sleep. That wasn’t what was making him nervous.

It was those guys in the bleachers.

A few bored-looking parents were scattered here and there, drinking coffee, some even reading newspapers; but right down in the front row were three very cool and sort of scary looking guys who were definitely not parents, talking intensely among themselves. Gareth stared apprehensively at them for a few minutes before realizing he recognized two of them, Grant and Jeff, both a grade ahead of him. They hadn’t exactly been friends, but they’d had a couple of classes together over the years and he knew they were both pretty nice. He didn’t know the guy with them, though. Tall and lanky, with a mop of unruly curls, wearing a denim vest over a black tee shirt with a band logo he doesn’t recognize. The tall guy looks quite cross as he mutters something to Jeff, and Gareth immediately feels a familiar flare of anxiety in his stomach— what if they’re planning to start trouble? But Jeff is laughing, elbowing the tall guy playfully in the ribs and now he’s laughing too, all previous tension seemingly forgotten.

Gareth sighs. He’s being stupid. They’re not here to make fun of him. He has to try to relax; it’s time to get started.

The auditions begin smoothly, and the guys in the bleachers seem unusually focused on the whole process. They nudge each other frequently, having short but expressive conversations, the tall guy gesturing wildly and occasionally even jumping to his feet to make his points. Grant appears to be taking notes. Gareth can’t stop wondering what exactly they’re doing. Nor can he stop watching their interactions; they just look like they’re having so much fun together, even when they argue. They have an easy camaraderie he really envies. And their confidence! The way they’re dressed, they definitely stick out in the crowd, but none of them seems the slightest bit self-conscious about it. A few people have shot dirty looks at the tall guy when he gets too loud and he doesn’t appear to even notice or care. Gareth would give anything to not notice or care about receiving dirty looks.

The guys continue their enthusiastic critiques of the drummers as the morning progresses. They pay particular attention when the band director starts the solo auditions, whispering and arguing and occasionally pointing. He feels like he’s dying of curiosity— what could they possibly be doing?— but he has to drag his focus away from them and get his head on straight because he’s up next.

He absolutely nails his solo.

He knows it, because as soon as he’s done playing the tall guy jumped to his feet and pointed at him and yelled fuckin’ A, man! across the field, and Gareth can’t hold back a slightly hysterical giggle even as the band director glares first at him and then over at the trio in the bleachers. Tall guy doesn’t care; he’s bouncing up and down in front of Grant and Jeff shouting that one, that’s the one we want, still pointing right at Gareth, and his heart pounds wildly in his chest because those guys are clearly so cool and what could they possibly want with him? It couldn’t be a prank, could it? The tall guy sounded so genuinely excited that he refuses to believe they’re setting him up to bully him later. They must want something good.

He doesn’t have to wait long to find out. As soon as auditions are finished for the day, the tall guy is jogging toward him. “Hey,” he says excitedly, “I’m Eddie, and you fuckin’ rocked, man, and our band’s looking for a new drummer and you should totally come try out. You like metal?”

“Um, thanks.” Gareth accepts the ‘Drummer Wanted!’ flyer Eddie’s eagerly shoving at him. “I don’t really know much about metal?” He’s definitely not cool enough to be a metalhead.

Eddie doesn’t seem to care about that, either, though. “Oh. Well, I bet you’ll pick it up easy. Here, take this.” Now Eddie’s handing him a cassette tape. Sabbath Bloody Sabbath. Gareth studies the strange cover art with interest as Eddie rattles on. “It’s sick, you’ll love it. You can probably learn a couple of those songs in no time. Just give that back to me when you come audition. You are gonna come, right? Please say yes. Corroded Coffin needs you, man.”

His energy is almost overwhelming, but Gareth finds he can’t keep a goofy grin off his face as he replies, “Yeah, man, I’ll definitely be there.” He wouldn’t miss this for the world.

[endmeenby]

Chapter 1 of a Overlord Husk/Angel Dust fan fic inspired by @celestialalpacaron's Overlord AU (I love it so much thank you). Also pasted below incase you don't like a03

A Gamble, A Deal, A Promise

Chapter 1

It really wasn’t that different from the sound stage. Bright white lights, mechanical whirling. The stagnant smell of old and fresh cigarettes. The chirps of laughter mixed with the cries of despair.

“Do you like it, Angel?” Valentino purred in his ear.

“Yes, Val.”

“Good, because by the end of tonight, it will all belong to me.”

What a stupid fucking idea, taking over Hell’s only casino. Angel hadn’t asked how. He didn’t care why. When Valentino ordered him to dress nice, they were going out, Angel had just smiled and nodded.

Val led him by Angel’s collar (chain really, artfully designed to look like jewelry at first glance) deeper into the building. They passed slots, crabs, poker. Laughing demons holding money or drinks or ass. Angel spotted one sobbing into their hands as the dealer expressionlessly scooped up a mountain of chips.

Each table was full, except for one at the very back, the one that Valentino stopped at. He sat and motioned for Angel to sit right besides him. Besides him, not at his feet or forcing Angel on to his knees. Oh, now he knew where this was going. Now he knew why Val had brought him here.

Angel grinned a charming grin as he sat on one of the high stools. He rested his chin on his palm, manuvering in a way that the spaghetti strap of his dress fell off his shoulder. The dealer didn’t even glance up. He had been shuffling his deck before they showed up, and he hadn’t stopped.

“One hundred to cash in.” The dealer said. He was devislishly handsome, if Angel could say so himself. Short salt and pepper dreads and goatee, dressed in a tuxe matching every other dealer in the casino. The things Angel would do to him.

“Starting so low,” Valentino crooned.

“If you want to raise it, be my guest,” the dealer said. And his voice, deep and smokey. Oh the things Angel would do.

“Angel baby, you got my money?”

“Of course Daddy.” He leaned forward to give the dealer a view as he pulled a clip of hundreds from the top of his dress. Fuckin’ finally. The metal clip had been irritating his skin. The dealer didn’t even look up.

Val laid 5 bills out. The dealer scooped them up and tucked them into the inside of his jacket. From under the table he pulled 10 red and black chips. 5 he pushed towards Val, 5 he pushed towards Angel. He then flicked two cards at Valentino. Both stopped perfectly in front of him face up, a Jack and a 2. He did the same for Angel, a Queen and an Ace.

“Well aren’t you lucky,” the dealer said as he laid his own cards down, one face down one up right (A, 5). Angel morphed his scoff into a light giggle. Lucky, fucking lucky.

Val’s hand covered the Queen and the Ace. “He’s not playing.”

“Then why the fuck is he sitting at my table?”

“You said it yourself,” Val slid the cards back towards the dealer. “He’s lucky.”

Val won the first round, and the second, and the third. His shit eating grin growing with each chip that was tossed his way. Angel wondered why he had even needed him, he was doing just fine on his own.

Soon there was a mountain of chips in front of him. “I’m starting to get bored, Husky. How about we make this a little more interesting?”

Husky? Husk? The Gambling Demon? That can’t be right. No way would the Gambling Demon lose 20 times in a row in his own casino.

But now, the dealer, the Gambling Demon, Husk, looked Val in the eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

“You have such a lovely place here! It makes me a little jealous, you know?”

“You’re asking for a cut of my casino.”

“No, no, Husky don’t get me wrong, I don’t want a cut.” Valentino folded his hands on the table. “I want the whole damn thing.”

Angel wanted to laugh. He had seen Val act recklessly. The things he would do for power, the people he would kill, the spirits he would break. But this, this was just fucking stupid.

Husker split his deck in half and folded them back together. “If you’re coming for my job, you better understand the risks.”

“I know Husky. I’ll put up all the rights to my movies. The revenue, it would all be yours.”

Husk scowled. “I don’t want your pornos man. I said my job is on the line. You got to bet something actually worth a damn. Something that would actually sting to lose.”

Valentino’s grin flipped. Angel had never seen him like this. Val was actually thinking. He was debating what to do. Angel’s entire body was tense. He didn’t know how to deal with a Val that didn’t already have his next step planned out.

Valentino came to a decision. He snapped his fingers and a golden scroll appeared in his hand. A contract. Angel’s contract. He put it down on top of the pile of chips.

Angel felt like he was choking on his on tongue. “V-val, what are you doing?”

“Shut up,” Val said through clenched teeth. “Daddy’s got this.”

Husker laid the cards out. “Now, we can play.”

[lizzie-is-here]

just got emotionally fucking annihilated by wakanda forever

but i also wanna talk about it! warning for spoilers and general rambling below 👇

ok, let’s start with parallels CAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY

first off, the comparison of shuri and killmonger 👀

it really does make sense, especially when you think ab how they both “go against” tradition, rejecting the standards. t’challa (rip ilysm) still wanted to please the elders, even if he had more progressive ideas (ie: sandals for his first day

also i’m so fucking glad they didn’t try to cgi chadwick in. it would’ve felt disrespectful and i think it was handled beautifully

her sparing namor the same way t’challa spared those he fought (saving zemo, helping bucky, trying to help killmonger)

the dialogue callbacks bro. fuckin “show him who you are,” had me sobbing. “vengeance is consuming us” babes, shuri, i’m crying.

her being angered by loss and snapping at nakia like t’challa snapped at zuri when he realized killmonger’s identity

also i absolutely love riri. i was a bit apprehensive going in, but i think they executed her well without just making her a replacement for tony. that being said, he would absolutely adore her

the parallel of her going too high and running out of oxygen and later turning it on namor in the same way mirrors tony’s suit frosting over and doing the same to stane 😭

the silent flashes of t’challa took my breath away. the silence really compounded just how empty and quiet their grief is.

seeing shuri try so hard in the opening and not even being able to say goodbye was so sad, and you can see her thoughts racing later on when she successfully synthesizes the heart-shaped herb. it’s a sort of “what if i’d thought of this earlier?” “who would still be alive?” “how could i have missed this?” sort of feeing

onto details!

the new black panther suit is stunning 🤩 the gold and silver details along with the dots that almost look like pearls, mirroring the ones she wears at the funerals? it shows that even if she is the leader of wakanda now, she’s still very young, still grieving her many losses

the tech and ai has really been amped up. shuri’s ai and her different interfaces looked amazing. also the ai (who i think is grio but i couldn’t tell) reminds me of jarvis. mainly in the orange blob department

the dora milaje looked stunning as ever, and seeing some new tech for them was exciting

THE VIBRANIUM THAT MELTED INTO THE CARS ALSKDKDKFKLDDK OBSESSED TONY WOULDVE LOVED THAT SHIT

talokan was gorgeous, even if it did violently trigger my thalassophobia

ummm everett and valentina being married (well, divorced) was a plot point i was not expecting. hope to see him in the thunderbolts tho he’s very slay

fucking 👏 t’challa 👏 junior 👏

i broke down right then and there

took me right out

i won’t lie the people of talokan gave me avatar vibes but i did like the touch of them having siren-like voices.

also namora was pretty so that’s a win

ok i get that it’s a movie. but realistically, i’d they’re fighting this massive underwater force, why not just call any other super powered avenger????

like for movie’s sake yeah it’s all fine but like if i were in the mcu living that shit i’d be like “let’s just call thor. have him like electrocute the water. or doctor strange. he did that cool water thing in endgame that had literally no purpose except to give him screen time. or wanda, we all know she ain’t really dead bffr”

AYO IS GENERAL NOW??? I LOVE OKOYE BUT THATS A SLAY

ALSO SHES GAY??????

I SAW THAT KISS AT THE END 👀👀👀👀

man i love m’baku so much. he’s just. ugh

ok in better terms, i think i like him so much because he is first presented as a chad, almost. he’s strong, a bit dumb, and leads the isolated tribe.

but then you interact w him and find out he’s incredibly emotionally empathetic and kind, and reaches out to shuri as a helping hand, a person to lean on.

i just really appreciate him okay 🥺😭

overall, stunning. 10/10, fifth time in a row that marvel’s made me cry at one of their movies.

aka black widow (bc yelena and the ending), shang-chi (bc gotdamn let me cry ab the chinese representation), no way home (cause duh), love and thunder (BC HE ADOPTED HER BITCH WHAT) and now this

stunning, showstopping, say what you will about marvel but damn they know how to make me cry

[fryingpan1234567]

let’s talk more about my Hermitcraft SIX au

lmao Doc’s fuckin face when he was sitting dead center in the front row and realized he knew e v e r y s i n g l e person on the stage

some specific lyrics ft. direct eye contact with Doc like they’re singing to him I want y’all to see my VISION for in the first song:

~ “So if you try to dump me-” (EYE CONTACT ON THE BEAT) “You won’t try that again.” Bdubs’ smile drops and so does Doc’s bro was scared for his LIFE

~ Tbh just Grian making eye contact for almost his whole bit but Doc can’t tell if it’s flirting or glaring

~ “I’m not what I seem, or am I?” Somehow the mask makes Etho’s glare even scarier even when he’s literally covered in glitter

~ “Funny how we all discuss that, but never Henry’s little-“ AHAHA DOC’S FACE I CAN’T CAN YOU IMAGINE REN ALMOST BROKE CHARACTER

~ “Lock up your husbands, lock up your sons.” Scar is definitely flirting but mostly he’s just amused because it visibly still works

~ “I’m the survivor,” The POWER in which X SAYS that is INSANE

anyways so just a disclaimer— Doc was not abusive or anything in any of the relationships (duh), it’s just like a thing where you have to take a jab at your ex at every available opportunity yk

it took a lot of rehearsal hours for Etho to not break down laughing during his song every time because “it’s so cringey and who even wants kids this is dumb, Bdubs,” but then Bdubs grabbed his face and went “imagine it’s me instead of some dead British guy, then” and Etho was a lot more sober after that

Scar and Grian’s one direct interaction onstage (“Yeah, same! Nice neck, by the way.”) is great because in those five seconds everyone can tell that they have fantastic chemistry

us pretty much never hearing Etho raise his voice is great because imagining the scene where he goes “OH, YOU DIDN’T GET TO HOLD BABY MARY WHEN SHE HAD THE CHICKEN POCKS? WELL BOOOO HOOOO BECAUSE WHEN I WANTED TO HOLD MY NEWBORN SON I D I E D” is so much funnier

please let’s return to the concept that Ren fits Anna’s character so flawlessly

Scar roasting the SHIT out of everyone before his song is just so✨✨

after the show when the cast goes out to talk to the audience n shit and they see Doc, he’s just grinning sheepishly and goes “I swear you guys were trying to kill me” and they smush him in a group hug and everyone’s chill dw

”Oh well you know what Anne Bo-loser” in Bdubs’ voice 😭😭

On one very specific night X uses Wels’ name instead of Thomas for his monologue— and he sang it right to him in the front row (BF THINGS I CAN’T)

anyways. perhaps I have a Chicago and Hamilton au in the works as well. lmk if you wanna see it lol

[cyborg-hydra-girl-thing]

I've thought about making this post a dozen times since december, but like

TIP your delivery drivers! at least $1 per mile. on average I can get 3-5 deliveries done an hour, and whatever you tip is all we get usually. sometimes on weekends DD will give an extra dollar per delivery but otherwise *shrug* 5 or 6 bucks always makes me happy as a delivery driver

ALSO RATE US 5 PLS

anything less than 5 actively pulls our rating down, and it is incredibly difficult to climb back up, at least in doordash, as your rating is based on your last 100 ratings. I think like 1/20 deliveries give me a rating? I got 3 1 stars in a row one week from people who messaged me and said they misclicked and then never contacted support to fix it.

and I've made 400 deliveries since then and they still haven't gone away soooo :PP

ALSO WITH JULY 4TH COMING

DON'T FUCKING FLASH YOUR DRIVERS

it always happens a ton around the holidays but like. please, put on a shirt and pants if you MUST answer the door. otherwise pls just let me leave it on your doorstep.

Because 1) mm yes thanks you're very pretty, but I just wanna hand you your food and go, I have zero energy for people and I have no idea how to appropriately react to this and also idk feels vaguely harrassey?? I certainly don't get a choice in the matter

and 2) YOUR OWN FUCKIN SAFETY?! like I'm safe, I'm not going to do anything, I'm just tryin to make a few bucks but like, girl. If I were dangerous I now have your first name and last initial, your address, if its a house and your car is in the driveway I've got the make model, and license plate number. THATS A LOT OF INFO AND YOU JUST MADE YOURSELF A TARGET

FUCK

I'm lucky enough I don't need the money and use it to pay off bills, but most of the other dashers out there are much less fortunate than me

[kaunisbaby]

🔥BLIND CHANNEL+LOST SOCIETY GIG REPORT SOMEONE ACTUALLY ASKED FOR🔥

(please bear in mind that i was running on 1.30 hours of sleep and a full week of extremely severe anxiety before this damn night)

my friend and i took the train at 8 in the morning but since we're in italy we arrived two hours behind schedule 👍🏻 we got to the venue at around four i think?? where we met the lovely @maryonacross-mp3 and @braindeadfern hiii babes i love you 😭😭💕💕💕💕💕💕

so. the meet and greet. i was very nervous about it. i didn't have any questions prepared and no gifts because i had been so sure i couldn't have uttered a single word. turns out the guys are not intimidating at all, i felt so at ease during the whole thing! a girl asked joonas what he had for lunch (no we italians will never not be outraged by the fact they had sushi the last time they were here. we're a food based culture im sorry) and he said pasta with tomato so i guess he's forgiven 🙄🙄 some other questions were if they knew some italian musicians apart from måneskin and they said eros ramazzotti (🤨 unexpected) and laura pausini (joel said the first and aleksi the latter, which is vital information if you ask me). also a girl asked olli to sign her bass and i think it was super cool, i wonder where she put it during the show though 😅

the most fun part was where some fans made them play a game they prepared. basically the band (we were tight on time so only joonas, aleksi and olli participated) had to pick a card with an italian tongue twister written on it and the one who read it correctly would win a prize (the prize being the cake in santeri's stories!). olli won with the best pronunciation 😅 aleksi had the longest one and for some reason he thought we read double L like in spanish 😂😂 this part was exhilarating honestly

during the group photo i asked aleksi for a hug 🥺🥺 he's so damn sweet, even the way he says "sure" when you ask him for a picture or a hug is super soft. the hug felt amazing 🥺 god im in love

i would've asked joel for one too but he was far away from me and i felt like i was taking too much time, since many other fans were still in line!

now on to showtime: i ended up first row in the center. i tend to try and not go apeshit with support bands generally (my body is starting to rebel against my reckless singing/dancing/headbanging/jumping) but lost society were just so fucking good i couldn't restrain myself. samy was standing right opposite of me and we locked eyes often. i was singing at the top of my lungs and he seemed pleased with it, so much so that at some point he held his microphone to my face as if to make me sing but i was like DUDE WHAT 😂😂

blind channel were fuckin amazing, but if you're reading this then you probably already know 😌 i had the time of my life!! let myself lose all control!! some highlights would be locking eyes with joel and him widening his eyes at how enthusiastically i was singing 🥰 and getting to hold both joel's and niko's hands during/after dark side!!

(also very personal but autopsy felt just as cathartic as i thought it would)

then!! my friends and i decided to stay at the venue to eat and drink something (the venue had a bar outside) just minding our own business (i was telling them about the m&g 👀) and then we saw the band get out 👀👀👀

we and some other fans gathered around them by the bus, joel was talking to fans with a glass of white wine in hand 😂 i asked him for a picture and he was extremely sweet 🥺 then i turn around and suddenly niko is opposite of me like 😳😳 hi hello, and we took a picture together as well 🥰 then my friend drags me over to aleksi and she tells him "here she is, im sure you remember her" (she meant the hug from the m&g i had been screaming about 😅) and like it was only slightly embarrassing because he was actually so cute about it, and we got another picture 🥰🥰🥰

and this is it i guess 😅 it was an amazing experience and i loved every second i spent in the proximity of/inside the venue. im extremely happy about how everything went, the guys were amazing in every sense of the word and im still vibrating 💕💕💕

[cuntwrap--supreme]

This is what I have to deal with fucking daily. These kids sit on their balcony and make out and smoke weed and blast music so loud it sounds like it's playing in my room. I'm losing my fucking mind. If you don't know how to live in an apartment, go live in a house. For fucking real. They're both kids with very nice cars with Nashville plates. They have a $2000 dog. Their families obviously have money. Go someplace where it's not as annoying if you're an obnoxious cunt. I've covered their door in passive aggressive sticky notes. Considering sticking my head out my window and screaming along with any songs I know, just to be rude back. Maybe I'll take up learning metal vocals, but only practice when the other people who live here aren't home. Ruin their time. I was trying to read on my balcony because it's nice out tonight and now I can't read period because it's so fucking loud everywhere. I can't hear shit playing on my phone unless it's at damn near max volume. Tons of people here work construction and leave at like 5am. I have to leave for work at 7am. Tons of kids live here. People are trying to sleep right now but these entitled kids think it's ok to be as loud as they can be because loud = cool (?????). They're also smoking weed inside, which should be an automatic cancellation of their lease, but the apartment doesn't want to kick them out until their lease expires (in 5 fuckin' months!!!) because housing is so expensive. Which like sure. That's fine if it's something like you forgot to clean up after your dog or paid 3 weeks late 7 months in a row. But this is actively disturbing everyone else's nights. Literally no one wants to listen to Purple Rain so loud you can hear it the next block over. Eyes Without A Face is not so much of a bop that people on the other side of the complex need to hear it.

Any time I talk to anyone in the building they say things like, "It has to suck living next to 20. They're so loud. I can hear them through your walls. Thought it was you at first!" That kind of shit. When I moved in (same day they did) they'd parked their Uhaul in such a way that I could not get to my door, and it took 3 hours for them to move it - 5 feet, which gave me a whole 7ft of space in front of my door but not to the right of it. When I took my Uhaul back for another load (small, so I only got like my bed, dresser, and couch on the first go), they'd reparked in the same place, so I had to go find them again and ask them to move; they claimed they thought I was done, and I asked who moves into an apartment with literally just a mattress, dresser, and couch and nothing else. They were so embarrassed by that that the dude's dad helped me move my heavy stuff upstairs. The guy there has scratched and dented my car enough times that I, someone who struggles with walking, would rather park an extra 200ft away than risk my vehicle being damaged any more by this insufferable child. They also take MY spots. Parking is assigned here. My apartment has 2 spots. They're unlucky and their apartment has 0 based on where it's placed, meaning they're supposed to be parking 200ft away where I park. And I've told them before that I'm disabled and struggle with walking and they kinda just said to fuck off. My sister has seen this shit several times, and was here to help me move, and hates this guy as much as I'm sure everyone in his life does. We went to get food the other day and he wasn't home, so she took his (my!!!) spot. When we got back to my apartment, he came out, hands on hips, and just stared her down. So she loudly proclaimed that she wanted to come see my cat and just sat on my couch watching TikToks for an hour before she got bored of being a dick and went back to her boyfriend's house. He immediately reparked his car - sideways, because this guy can't park his Mercedes straight to save his life. I can't imagine the damage he's done to the cars of other students on campus.

Anyway. Every day I live here and have to listen to 80s pop or Sound Cloud rap or indie rock at max volume, I become closer and closer to morphing into the joker.

[fostersffff]

Actually because I feel like this is the last time for a few years that I'll have anything to say about Final Fantasy XVI, let me just pick on two things about this latest DLC:

When they were showing off the preview for this DLC at PAX East, they made a point of hyping up how Jill was going to be much more involved in the DLC. It was a tacit acknowledgment of the fact that Jill was pretty underwhelming in the main story: she popped off at Drake's Breath, and then that was about it for ol' Jill. You even got a little Pixel Jill pin for attending the panel, rather than, say, a Pixel Shula.

And then you play the DLC and Jill's major contribution is not saying anything out loud about her suspicions that her heritage is intertwined with the Motes of Water via The Witch, and then when Shula says "OH FUCK I'M ABSORBING TOO MUCH MAGIC TRYING TO DEACTIVATE THE TIME BARRIER AROUND THE BABY!", Jill says "I can help!", and then she helps, and that's it for ol' Jill.

It's not quite "YOU WILL FEEL ASHAMED OF YOUR WORDS & DEEDS" tier, but Jesus fucking Christ. But the real ass kicker is that they elaborate just a teensy bit more on The Witch in a sidequest you can do after finishing the main story of The Rising Tide, where an NPC explains that The Witch died not long after and that's also when the Timekeeper first appeared. And Jill has nothing to say about any of this, despite the fact that The Witch is one of the few concrete things we know is directly associated with Jill's heritage, because she wasn't in my fucking party at the time because she had to occupy herself at the village!

The other thing is the Tonberry King fight. I do actually want to give it props for being like one of maybe two encounters in the entire DLC that is designed in such a way to encourage, but not require, the player to use Leviathan due to the way the Everybody's Grudge attack works. Everybody's Grudge summons a huge swarm of tonberries that toddle towards you with very low HP, but if you try to melee attack them, they charge up with super armor and stab you, as tonberries are wont to do. So, you can either use your magic, or if you have Leviathan set, you can just blow them up at range. Cool!

The rest, though? Like the tonberries in general in this DLC, they're just a little too animated. Like, they look like tonberries, with the cloak and the big knife and the lantern, and they will sometimes approach slowly with the knife, but otherwise they're kinda just lizardmen.

But what else could they do? The tonberry encounter archetype is "kill this thing before the timer runs out", so how can you translate that in an action game while still feeling true to the nature of a tonberry encounter in classic FF games?

Why, if it isn't Stranger of Paradise! The Final Fantasy action game that released over a full year before Final Fantasy XVI and two years before this DLC, where they had tonberry encounters with regular ol' tonberries who can only slowly toddle towards you... except they also get a teleport to close huge distances instantly, as well as very powerful effect spells that will slow or outright paralyze you, at which point they can slowly toddle towards you and kill you in a single hit with their funny knife.

To their credit, they let the Tonberry King teleport so he can lumber for some of his inbetween animations, but then to take away credit, the teleport will then be used to make the Tonberry King move like Vergil 3, doing three helmsplitters in a row, before doing a backflip and a fuckin' Getsuga Tensho.

[pesterloglog]

Dave Strider, Karkat Vantas

Meat, page 38

DAVE: hey

DAVE: want to get drunk

KARKAT: HUH?

DAVE: i went and got all this fucking booze

KARKAT: YOU *GOT* BOOZE?

DAVE: yeah check it

KARKAT: YOU ACTUALLY WENT AND *GOT* IT.

KARKAT: LIKE, YOU LITERALLY LEFT THE HOUSE AND EXCHANGED CURRENCY WITH A REAL, LIVE PERSON TO OBTAIN ALCOHOL.

DAVE: yeah i walked into the boozery all pigeon toed and embarrassed

DAVE: like some fuckin hooch noob

DAVE: was all like yo whats the most pathetic thing you got to drink yourself to death with

KARKAT: THE BOOZERY???

DAVE: passed right by the box wine

DAVE: the bagged wine

DAVE: the shots they put in those little blister packs by the register

DAVE: the wine in the little sippy cups with the disposable plastic straws like juice for fucking babies

DAVE: i made that last one up i dont actually know anything about alcohol

DAVE: anyway two plastic soda bottles of vodka cooler seems to be about where were at right now

DAVE: i think thats what this is anyway

DAVE: i dont really care long as it gets the job done

DAVE: i decided that im an alcoholic now

KARKAT: HAVE YOU NOW.

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: its never too late to develop a substance abuse problem

DAVE: ive been thinking about it for a while and it seems like its time for me to finally get on the wagon of not being on the wagon

KARKAT: THAT’S REALLY GREAT, DAVE.

DAVE: thanks

DAVE: anyway hows the inauguration

DAVE: you having a good time dwelling on every tiny little factor that cumulatively led to our electoral defeat

DAVE: and how if just one thing had been different it would have been us up there

KARKAT: UGH.

KARKAT: YOU AND I BOTH KNOW NOTHING MATTERED IN THAT CAMPAIGN BUT JAKE’S FUCKING SPEECH.

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: i mean, like

DAVE: i just keep imagining what wouldve happened if that absurd rube goldberg machine of life ruining humiliation had been stopped at any point

DAVE: maybe just being backstabbed by his endorsement alone was something we couldve recovered from with some rigorous counter campaigning

DAVE: but what if i had been fast enough to cut him off before hed even said anything

DAVE: what if i hadnt accidentally fallen on him on the stage when i was rushing over there to stop him

DAVE: what if he hadnt freaked out like i set off fireworks next to a nam vet and started trying to fucking scrum me

DAVE: what if id just backed away from his punch with my legs like a normal person instead of warping the flow of time to escape causing him to become so startled he shit his pants

DAVE: what if i hadnt gotten so visibly grossed out by the smell that even the people watching it on tv could tell what had happened

DAVE: what if he hadnt started sobbing when the audience in the front rows started throwing up

DAVE: what if wed had better security and stopped that lady from running onstage during the fracas and announcing that jake has been dodging paying child support for their 3 kids

DAVE: like what was the LINE

KARKAT: IT WASN’T... *THAT* BAD.

DAVE: you think

DAVE: yeah see thats why im an alcoholic now

DAVE: want a drink

KARKAT: IF I’M BEING PERFECTLY FUCKING HONEST

KARKAT: I’M GLAD I LOST. I NEVER WANTED TO FUCKING WIN IN THE FIRST PLACE.

DAVE: dude come on

KARKAT: NO, I’M BEING SERIOUS.

KARKAT: I’M NOT EVEN DOING SOME SOUR GRAPES “I NEVER WANTED IT IN THE FIRST PLACE BECAUSE I’M A SORE LOSER TRYING TO DELUDE MYSELF INTO THINKING I DON’T CARE” SORT OF THING.

KARKAT: OBVIOUSLY I FUCKING CARE SINCE NOW THE PLANET IS GOING TO BE COMPLETELY RUINED BY THIS JUMPED-UP FASCIST DICTATOR WHO HAS EVERY INTENTION OF GRADUALLY GENOCIDING MY SPECIES INTO NONEXISTENCE BEFORE MY VERY EYES.

KARKAT: BUT I CANNOT FUCKING THINK OF A SINGLE THING IN THE UNIVERSE I WANTED TO DO LESS THAN BE THE STUPID FUCKING PRESIDENT.

KARKAT: THANK HUMAN OBAMA.

DAVE: wait was there a troll obama

KARKAT: I’M THE FUCKING TROLL OBAMA, REMEMBER?

DAVE: karkat

DAVE: you wouldve been so much more than obama

KARKAT: HEY.

DAVE: yeah buddy whats up

KARKAT: I JUST...

DAVE: hey dont worry about it

DAVE: you dont have to explain yourself to me

DAVE: i get it

DAVE: it makes sense. id always felt the same way kind of

DAVE: like about all my shit with sburb and whatever. the reluctant heros journey

DAVE: that feeling where youre being dragged along to being a kind of guy everyone is saying you have to be but youve never felt like theres any way you can really BECOME

DAVE: where every second you feel so sick with your own self doubt and fear that you cant bear to even imagine the future

DAVE: and you think

DAVE: why me

DAVE: even though you know it cant be anyone but you

DAVE: and thats why you do it

KARKAT: YEAH.

DAVE: lol

KARKAT: I WASN’T TRYING TO EXPLAIN MYSELF, THOUGH.

KARKAT: I JUST WANTED TO THANK YOU.

DAVE: huh

DAVE: for what

KARKAT: FOR... EVERYTHING.

KARKAT: EVEN IF WE DIDN’T WIN, I’M GLAD WE TRIED.

KARKAT: I’M GLAD WE WENT THROUGH THIS TOGETHER.

DAVE: me too

KARKAT: MORE THAN ANYTHING, I... YOU...

KARKAT: YOU BELIEVE IN ME IN A WAY NOBODY EVER HAS BEFORE.

KARKAT: MORE THAN I’VE EVER BEEN ABLE TO BELIEVE IN MYSELF.

KARKAT: AND I’VE NEVER REALLY...

KARKAT: FELT LIKE THIS BEFORE.

DAVE: felt like what

KARKAT: I MEAN, LIKE

KARKAT: YOU KNOW.

KARKAT: IT’S NOT LIKE I’VE NEVER HAD FRIENDS BEFORE. PEOPLE I CARE ABOUT.

KARKAT: BUT WHEN PEOPLE TELL ME THEY CARE ABOUT ME, ON SOME LEVEL IT’S HARD FOR ME TO REALLY BUY IT.

KARKAT: THEY CAN LIST WHATEVER JUSTIFICATIONS THEY HAVE FOR LIKING ME AND IT ALL FEELS LIKE BULLSHIT.

KARKAT: IT’S LIKE, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? YOU CAN’T REALLY EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE YOU SERIOUSLY THINK THIS ABOUT ME.

KARKAT: THERE’S NO WAY YOU ACTUALLY SEE ME THAT WAY.

KARKAT: YOU JUST FEEL BAD FOR ME. YOU’RE TALKING DOWN TO ME LIKE I’M SOME SORT OF PATHETIC WIGGLER WHO NEEDS TO BE CODDLED.

KARKAT: OR YOU’RE JUST IMAGINING I’M WHATEVER WAY YOU WISH I WOULD BE, SOME PERSON WHO’S BETTER AND SMARTER AND STRONGER AND KINDER AND MORE VALUABLE THAN THE PERSON I REALLY AM.

KARKAT: I CAN NEVER UNDERSTAND WHY ANYONE I CARE ABOUT WOULD EVER WASTE THEIR FUCKING TIME ON ME.

KARKAT: BUT WITH YOU...

KARKAT: BUT WITH YOU, IT MAKES SENSE. I GUESS.

KARKAT: WHEN YOU SAY SOMETHING NICE TO ME, I’M LIKE... YEAH? OK?

KARKAT: THAT’S COMPREHENSIBLE? I SEE HOW YOU GOT FROM POINT A TO POINT B.

KARKAT: I CAN KNOW YOU THE WAY I DO AND THINK ABOUT WHO YOU ARE AND I CAN UNDERSTAND WHY YOU’D WANT SOMEONE LIKE ME BESIDE YOU.

KARKAT: I DON’T HAVE TO WONDER WHAT’S MISSING.

KARKAT: YOU’RE ON MY LEVEL. AND I’M ON YOURS.

KARKAT: I BELIEVE THAT YOU SEE ME IN FRONT OF YOU THE WAY I ACTUALLY AM, FOR BETTER OR WORSE, AND STILL LIKE ME ANYWAY.

KARKAT: SO EVEN THOUGH IT’S STILL HARD FOR ME TO BELIEVE IN MYSELF A LOT OF THE TIME,

KARKAT: I BELIEVE IN YOU, SO I DON’T NEED TO.

DAVE: so what youre saying is you believe in me who believes in you

KARKAT: YEAH, KIND OF?

KARKAT: FUCK, MAN. THAT’S KIND OF DEEP.

DAVE: i know

KARKAT: SO, YEAH.

KARKAT: THAT’S WHAT I’VE NEVER REALLY FELT BEFORE.

KARKAT: AND I’M GLAD YOU’RE...

KARKAT: THAT WE’RE...

KARKAT: I’M GLAD YOU’RE MY FRIEND, DAVE.

DAVE: oh

DAVE: same

DAVE: so...

KARKAT: IS SOMETHING WRONG?

DAVE: huh

DAVE: no

DAVE: sorry i just had an absolutely insane train of thought that kind of sent me for a loop

KARKAT: UHH... WHAT?

DAVE: no its extremely better that i dont tell you

DAVE: i kind of forgot what we were talking about because it was so awful

KARKAT: ...

DAVE: oh right

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: all that shit you said about us being friends and on the same level or whatever

DAVE: yeah i feel the same way basically

DAVE: or like

DAVE: well

KARKAT: WHAT?

DAVE: im not sure that i like...

DAVE: hm.

DAVE: im kind of getting the feeling that... maybe...

DAVE: theres a level to what were thinking that isnt entirely coming across in words

DAVE: and since we dont have the right words we arent getting to the right actions either

KARKAT: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.

DAVE: like maybe we feel the same way about certain things

DAVE: but what were saying and what were feeling

DAVE: maybe those arent exactly the same thing

DAVE: and maybe... we should...

KARKAT: WE SHOULD WHAT?

DAVE: maybe its time to

DAVE: talk

DAVE: about... that

KARKAT: THAT???

DAVE: yeah, like

DAVE: how... when you say were friends

DAVE: what... does that mean

KARKAT: THAT WE’RE FRIENDS?

DAVE: yeah but

DAVE: is that it?

DAVE: just friends

KARKAT: OF COURSE NOT.

KARKAT: YOU’RE MY...........

KARKAT: B......

KARKAT: ......EST FRIEND.

DAVE: oh

DAVE: i see

DAVE: well

DAVE: ok then

KARKAT: D... DAVE?

DAVE: karkat

DAVE: i

DAVE: i think i

DAVE: wait

DAVE: fuck

KARKAT: WHAT’S WRONG?

KARKAT: DID I DO SOMETH—

DAVE: no

DAVE: i just cant

DAVE: shit

DAVE: it just feels like

DAVE: what the fuck is going on

DAVE: this feels really off

KARKAT: ????

DAVE: idk

DAVE: i just keep having thoughts i know id never think

KARKAT: WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?

DAVE: i have no idea

DAVE: im sorry

DAVE: GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD AND JUST LET ME DO THIS MYSELF!!!

KARKAT: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DAVE: dude

DAVE: come here...

[1kook]

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast. 

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.  

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office. 

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5. 

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses. 

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful. 

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.” 

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.” 

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.” 

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking. 

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever. 

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours. 

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together. 

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.) 

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be. 

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you. 

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber. 

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend. 

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary. 

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days. 

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.  

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.) 

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like. 

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites. 

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.” 

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind. 

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into. 

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway. 

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin. 

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear. 

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass. 

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you. 

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak. 

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead. 

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat. 

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts. 

They go like this: 

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively. 

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once. 

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you. 

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome. 

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve. 

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek. 

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts. 

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.” 

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles. 

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild. 

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums. 

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again. 

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning. 

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.” 

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment. 

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“ 

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him. 

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned. 

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.” 

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.” 

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.” 

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.” 

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“— 

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear. 

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer. 

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole. 

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips. 

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise. 

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath. 

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. 

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue. 

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger.  “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…” 

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?” 

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles. 

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over. 

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more. 

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them. 

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub. 

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face. 

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention. 

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock. 

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand. 

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane. 

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh. 

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be. 

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds. 

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter. 

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic. 

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock. 

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you. 

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip. 

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl. 

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully. 

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin. 

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said. 

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away. 

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself. 

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you. 

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once. 

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth. 

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets. 

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever. 

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you. 

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question. 

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest. 

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

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

[doodlevich]

Shitty Day Discount

Tw: Mild discussions of death and grieving

Yet another character is added to the roster!

Prompt generator found here!

Prompt 11: Mickey running out in the middle of the night to get a food item that Ian is craving.

Word Count: 649

Rated: T

Sweet Susan’s closes at 10:00 pm.

Mickey’s jogging up the steps at 9:57, just as Della - one of Susan’s nieces- is about to flip the ‘open’ sign off.

When the bell above the door jingles, Della looks up with murder in her eyes, but it softens a little when she sees who it is.

“Cuttin’ it close Mickey…” She tuts while she wipes down the display case. Behind the glass are rows of doughnuts and pastries, baked fresh that morning, waiting to be tossed out and replaced the next day.

“I know, I know.” Mickey rushes up to the counter, already fumbling for his wallet. “But I ain’t fuckin’ around right now, Del. This shit is serious.”

Seeing as Sweet Susan’s is Ian’s favorite doughnut place in all of Chicago, Mickey’s become pretty well acquainted with everyone who works there. Turns out it’s a family business, and the infamous Susan (who Mickey’s never actually met) is providing employment for over half of her fucking’ relatives.

Della sighs and shakes her head. “The usual?”

Mickey nods. “And maybe add in a Boston Cream and a Jelly-filled. It’s been a rough day.”

Della may be ready to close up and go home, but as she packs up their usual order- six chocolate glazed doughnuts, plus the two extras Mickey added on- she can’t help but be curious.

“What kind of a rough day?” She asks benignly. Della’s learned through her interactions with Mickey that he’s a tough nut to crack, but he’s definitely mellowed out since he first started coming into the shop.

Mickey hesitates, brows furrowed, and Della wonders if it’s too personal of a question. After a second, his eyebrows relax like someone cut their invisible strings and he sighs.

“Ian’s mom… died nine years ago. This time of year is… pretty shitty for him. Puts him in a bad place.” Mickey seems like he’s the kind of person who doesn’t usually discuss this sort of stuff- the weepy, sensitive, uncomfortable stuff. Della feels a little honored to be witnessing it, honestly.

Della closes the box up and slaps a sticker on the front to keep it from opening. “That is rough. Were they close?”

Mickey shrugs. “It’s… complicated. She wasn’t around much, but when she was, Ian followed her around like a puppy. They were the same in a lot of ways, I guess.” He’s somber, and Della feels for Ian, even though she’s only met him once or twice.

She’s struck by how good Mickey is to his… husband? Della is guessing because Mickey’s never really confirmed it out loud, but the shiny wedding band on his ring finger tells the story for him. Whatever they are, their relationship is endearing to Della.

“I know what it’s like to have a Ma who only comes around when she wants money for smokes.” Della nods, sliding the box across the top of the counter. “Don’t know what woulda happened to us kids if Auntie Susan never took us in.”

“Damn, looks like we all got the shit end of the stick.” Mickey snorts softly, pulling some bills from his wallet. “How much do I owe ya for the extras?”

Della rings him in, and the number that flashes on the old register is half of what Mickey would normally pay. He looks like he’s about to ask questions, but Della puts her hand up. “I was gonna throw them out in five minutes anyway. Think of it as a shitty day discount.”

“Thanks, Del.” Mickey chuckles and hoists the box into his arms.

Della follows behind him as he saunters to the exit and waves him goodbye before locking the doors.

She thinks Mickey’s a pretty strange guy, but he’s likeable in his own peculiar way. He’s a little rough around the edges, but Della has a funny feeling the armoured layer doesn’t run very deep.

[thismaydestroyme]

Making out with h after the show to calm him down

author's note: i’m so sorry it took me forever to write this. i literally just saw this. i hope you like it.

word count: 1658

All day Harry has been too jolly. He’s happy the majority of the time, but today is a whole different level of happiness. You were worried after the first night of Chicago that Harry would be sad or feel disparaged after everyone in the pit were holding signs that said, “Justice for TBSL.” Harry knew all of his fans including you would want him to sing that song. However, you were wrong because he woke up feeling happy and jazzy.

**

You’re in Harry’s backstage room preparing for his show tonight. He’s set to be on stage in 15 minutes. Harry demanded you should be in his room with him before he goes on stage because he told you it helps him with his anxiety. Of course you couldn’t say no to him. He’s Harry fuckin’ Styles for christ sake.

“I have a surprise for youuuu.” Harry said all smirky. You’re on his lap with your legs around him so you too can be face to face.

“A surprise for mommy? I should’ve known. You were a bit cherry today.” You said giving him a quick peck on his lips. He shakes his head because he disapproves how quick the kiss was. You raised your eyebrows to signify he needs to stop his mini fit. Harry leans over to have his forehead on yours. You shake your head a little bit, not enough to detach his forehead from yours.

“You’re being a tease.” He whispered. Harry loves having this moment with you before he has to go on stage. He loves performing. The stage is where he feels he can truly connect with his fans and interact with them. Deep down you feel that’s the only reason why he makes music. Sometimes it’s for him but overall it’s for them. It's for them to interpret their own feelings and emotions. Harry is just there to guide them. Harry is their vacuum.

“How am I being teased? You just told me you have a surprise for me, but you’re not telling me.” You said nudging his head back so he can look at you. Harry opens his eyes and just stares at you. He gives you a toothy grin.

“It’s a surprise baby.”

**

Harry is prancing around the stage with a rainbow boa around his neck. He looks like a goddess. A fan threw Harry a sunglasses which reminded you of Elton John because how could you not think of Elton when you see glasses like that. Harry puts the sunglasses on and the stadium started to loose their fucking shit. Harry grins at the fans reaction. You knew that would boost Harry fuckin’ ego. Fucker.

Harry took the boa off his neck and gave it to a fan which they all started fighting for.

“Relax. Relax. There’s more where that came from.” Harry said to the microphone and that made everyone scream. You brought your hands to your ears. You regretted not taking the headphone Harry told you to wear. You thought you could handle it, but these Chicago shows are on a whole different level. These Chicago fans are menace.

The band starts to play and that prompts you to bring your hands down from your ears. You know that sound from anywhere because that’s one of your favorite songs off this album. You didn’t believe it because Harry was serious about not playing this song on tour.

“Don't blame me for falling. I was just a little boy.” Harry looked in your direction and gave you a wink and went back to serenading the crowd. You feel the entire stadium shake beneath your feet. Was this Harry's surprise? To sing “To be so lonely?” You stepped forward to have a better fucking look at your man who’s still wearing that bedazzled sunglasses. Harry is swaying his hips back and forth giving the people what they wanted and giving them a front row ticket to “Horntown Harry.”

You arrogant son of a bitch.

**

After Harry kissed his fans goodbye he ran backstage full speed. You decide to meet him back in his room. You got there first, surprisingly because you’re wearing your Doc boots and you’re starting to feel blisters starting to form. At this point you’re practically waddling. Harry burst in the room finding you in front of his makeup vanity.

“Baby.” Harry said out of breath.

You push yourself off from the vanity and walk towards him. “Mmmh was that my surprise baby?” You said finally in reach where you can push back his loose curls that came undone during his performance.

“Yeah. Did you like it mommy?” He whispered, pushing his face against your hand.

“Mommy liked it very much. So did your fans.” You said grabbing his chins so he can look directly in your eyes. You look down and you see he’s getting a hard on. “Is my baby horny?” You grip his chin harder. He let out a groan and nodded his head. “Baby, I need words.”

“Yes mommy. I need you.” He said and you could tell he’s entering his subspace. You rather him not slip into that headspace because you guys will be leaving this venue in twenty minutes and when Harry enters that space. He hits fucking hard. “Well baby. I think you should lock that door so I can take care of you. Don’t you agree?” You pout rubbing the small area of his chin.

“Yes.”

“Yes to whom?”

“Yes mommy.” Harry whimpered.

“That’s my good boy. Go lock the door.” Harry bolted from your gasp so he could lock the door. You turn around to walk to the small couch that’s across from the door. You spread your legs open. Harry looks at you and you notice that he licked his lips.

“Don’t be shy. Come sit on mommy’s lap.” You pat your hand on your thigh. Harry immediately walks over to you. He spreads his legs so he his legs are on either side of you. You place your hands on his waist rubbing small circles with your thumbs.

“Have I been good?” Harry whispered looking at you with his green doe eyes. You lick your lip and let out a sigh. You love seeing Harry like this. Knowing that you’re the only one who gets to see him in this way. He’s your own personal fucktoy.

“Oh baby, you've been so good to me. You’ve been so good that I believe you deserve a treat.” You said. Harry perked up and you could see all the excitement in his eyes.

“Really?”

“Yes really,” You giggled. It’s like his own version of Christmas day. Being able to pick his own toys out. “What would you like, baby?” You said leaning forward to plant a kiss on his neck. Harry lets out a soft moan. Harry leans his head back so you can have more room to assault his neck. You made sure you left some marks on his neck. You realize Harry didn’t say anything so you stopped.

“Mommy. Why did you stop?” Harry whined.

“Because you didn’t answer my question baby.” You gave him a smirk still rubbing on his waist.

“Ummm…” Harry is trying to think of something. You can see wheels turning in his head, and you couldn’t help but to get excited.

“I want you to use your vibrator on me like you did last week. I came so hard just by the vibrator on my balls. Can we do that again?” Harry said all excitedly.

You couldn’t help but smile at your pretty boy. “Of course we can, darling. But can you give mommy a kiss?” You pouted. Harry grabs the back of your hair and pushes you forwards. You both moan out loving the taste of each other’s mouths. You feel his tongue trancing the bottom of your lip waiting for you to let him in. When you let him in he consumes your mouth. All you could taste from was his minty gum he was chewing before he got on stage. Harry starts to grind on you so you remove your hands from his waist so you can grope that ass he’s been flauting the entire night. The kiss got so heated and you too couldn’t get enough from each other.

Harry’s hands are now on your back and he unclasped your bra. He went under your bra wires so he could squeeze that voluptuous double D’s you took pride in,

“Mommy I nee-”

“We leave in five mintuies.” Jeff shouted while he was banging on the door. Harry got scared and hid his face between your neck. You toss your head back and annoyed how Jeff basically cock blcoked you. You remember Harry is still in his subspace so you remove your hands from his ass and bring it to his back so you gently rub his back.

“It’s okay baby. It was Jeff.” You whispered, still staring at the tile on the ceiling.

You feel something wet on your neck and before you could even question it you hear Harry sniffling. “Baby are you okay? Talk to me.” You try forcing Harry to look at you but he wouldn’t budge so you went back to soothing him, rubbing his back up and down. You both were silent hoping Harry would come back to you.

After a couple of minutes Harry moves his face from your neck and stares at you. You noticed that his eyes are red and there’s some streaks of tears on his face. “Are you okay bubs? What’s wrong?” You whispered, having your hand on his cheeks soothing his heated face.

“I just miss you. We can’t play anymore.” He sniffled rubbing his achy eyes with his hand.

“Honey, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Never. We can always play. We can play some more when we get back to our hotel.” You said still soothing his face.

“Promise?” Harry whispered.

“I promise.”

[arrowflier]

Can you write Mickey be the whipped married guy in his friend group who always leaves early because he misses his husband 😂🥰

“Read ‘em and weep, boys,” Mickey said, smirking as he laid his cards on the table with a flourish.

The other three men groaned, tossing their own cards to the middle without even bothering to show them.

“That’s the third one in a row, Milkovich,” one of them complained. “You tryin’ to hussle us?”

“Ey! Shut up, Danny,” another hissed, whacking his arm with the back of one hand. “Kid’ll probably gut ya for sayin’ that shit.”

“Nah,” Danny said. “He wouldn’t dare, he’d get sent back to the can without his hubby.”

All three men broke out into raucous laughter, Danny making kissy noises until Mickey grabbed up a handful of cards from the table and smacked them right into his pursed lips.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up,” Mickey said. “Just remember that Joe knows what he’s talkin’ about—learned a lot of ways to kill a guy in prison.”

“Not much else to do there,” Joe agreed with a nod as the other two men started to wind down.

“Unless you got a man!” the third man, Timmy, chimed in, and they were off again.

“Sure, sure,” Mickey said, letting them laugh. “But there’s only so much an ass can take, fellas, and once that’s done…”

He mimed slitting his own throat.

“Ugh, Mickey,” Danny groaned. “We don’t need to know that shit, man.”

“You’re the maintenance guy, Dan,” Timmy said. “Don’t tell me you never walked in on the two of ‘em?”

“Fuck no!” Danny exclaimed. “If their stupid little ambulance is in the lot, I come back later!”

“Lucky,” Joe sighed. “I was up there cleaning the windows once before they got curtains, and—”

“Whoa!” Mickey interrupted, holding out a hand over the table. “Let’s keep that shit to ourselves, fuck you very much.”

Joe grinned.

“Why should I?” he asked. “Not like you cared at the time.”

Mickey rolled his eyes.

“At the time, I had a more important issue to deal with.”

His phone went off in his pocket, the shrill tone cutting through the room loud enough to halt the conversation.

“Speak of the fuckin’ devil,” Mickey muttered, digging it out. “Ian just texted, he’s heading back up. Sorry guys, guess that’s it for today.”

A chorus of groans met his statement, a chair creaking as Danny leaned back too far.

“You always abandon us, man,” he complained. “As soon as he’s done, you nope outa here, even in the middle of a hand.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows.

“We in the middle of a hand now, genius?” he asked. “No? Then if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go meet up with my husband.”

“Fine, fine,” Danny said with a sad wave. “But someday you gotta at least bring him down here to meet us when we play, so you can’t go runnin’ off before you lose.”

Mickey snorted.

“I don’t lose,” he said dryly. “And you’ve already met him.” He looked around the table, meeting every pair of eyes. “All of you fuckers have.”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “I have. And you know what?” He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, let it go. “I don’t fuckin’ get it, man, I really don’t.”

“I’m with Dan,” Timmy said, sitting straight. “Guy’s an over-sized puppy dog, and you’re a badass, Mick. How’s he got you so wrapped around his little finger?”

Mickey waited a beat, then looked to Joe.

“Anything you want to add?” he asked the cleaner, but Joe just shook his head.

“Nah man,” he said with a snort. “I’ve seen exactly how he’s got you wrapped up.”

Mickey flushed.

“You shut the fuck up,” he demanded, pointing at the older man. “Or next time, I’ll open the window and shove you off your platform.”

“The windows don’t open!” Danny called toward Mickey’s back as he turned to walk away.

Mickey threw him a middle finger over his shoulder.

“And I’m not sure you’d get to them anyway if he trusses you up like that every time!” Joe added, and got the other finger added for his efforts.

The door to the basement slammed as Mickey left, and the three men were left alone in the pleasantly chilly employees-only room.

“Think he’ll ever bring him by?” Timmy wondered.

“Nah,” Joe answered him. “Only time he comes down here’s when Big Red is busy.”

They all nodded in agreement as Joe gathered up the cards again.

“Another hand fellas?”

—

Exactly a week later, Joe, Danny, and Timmy were down in the basement again, clustered around their little card table between the lockers that held their personal things.

“Too hot to be mowing, man,” Timmy complained, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “When I took this job, I thought it’d be cushy, but that Melanie bitch is demanding as fuck.”

“Your own fault for pickin’ such a stupid job, mate,” Danny told him with a heavy pat on the back. “It is hot as balls out, though,” he agreed a second later as he took a seat. "That weird lady on the third floor doesn't run the AC, and I was up there all mornin' fixin' her shower."

“Anybody know if Mickey’s joinin’ today?” Joe asked, shuffling the same deck of cards they used every week.

“Nah,” Timmy answered. “He only comes when his man’s at the gym, yeah?” Danny and Joe both nodded. “Well, Big Red was headin’ up to his place when I finished up; he must’ve decided it was too hot too.”

But before Joe could start dealing, the door above them creaked open, and they could hear heavy footfalls on the steps. From the sound of it, more than one person.

Mickey appeared first, a wide smirk on his face, followed immediately by Big Red himself.

“Hey losers,” Mickey greeted, making straight for the table. But instead of sitting, he just pulled out the chair, and motioned for his husband to take it.

“Uh, hi guys,” Ian Gallagher said as he obediently sat down. “I hope you don’t mind me joining.”

The three men just stared, then stared harder as Mickey, instead of finding a seat of his own, chose to plop right down on Gallagher’s lap.

“Figured you guys had bugged me enough,” he told them. “Might as well give you what you asked for.”

“Uh, yeah.” Joe was the first one to recover, offering a cautious smile to the newcomer. “Hey man, good to see ya. You know how to play?”

“Probably,” Ian said with a shrug, one arm wrapping around Mickey’s waist to keep him in place. “What are we playing? Five card draw? Texas hold’em? Seven card stud? High Chicago? Low Chicago? Follow the Queen?”

He looked around the table, and stopped when all he saw were stunned faces.

“Uh…or something else?” he added hesitantly.

“No, no, just…regular poker,” Joe answered, eyes wide. “None of that weird shit.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ian said with a little laugh. “My dad made sure we knew all the games, made it easier to help him cheat. I remember one time he tried to sneak me into a casino just to grab wallets while he played, but I ended up winning big at a high-rollers table until they found out I was only seventeen and chased us out.”

He sighed wistfully.

“Still wish I had managed to cash out first, would have set us up for a year.”

All the men, Mickey excluded, just blinked at him.

“Your puppy tellin’ the truth, Mick?” Timmy finally squeaked, but all he got from Mickey was a shark-like grin.

“Deal him in,” Mickey ordered with a nod to Joe. “And remember, you fuckers asked for this.”