#edges personal crisis

[hollister-mc]

Idk if yall remember me venting about my childhood friends to lovers crisis, but I wanted to let everyone know that we're official now... ALSO I'M NOT A VIRGIN ANYMORE HAHA, YEAH THATS RIGHT, GOOD OLD EDGE WHO WRITES ROBOT SMUT WAS A LITTLE VIRGIN WHO HAD NO BITCHES

Anyway, thank yall for the support, sorry I've been inactive, my fics are kinda on pause rn, cause I'm working on a commission, and even then, that commission is moving slowly. Its alright tho, we're working on it together. But still, thank you to my mutuals who are there for me

[silverwhittlingknife]

When people say that Dick “has a temper” what do they mean?  Is he the type to blow up over an inconvenience, be impatient, or rage-quit?

Ahhhh, I had a lot of fun with this. Thanks for the ask, anon. <3

My main feeling about Dick's temper is it's an important part of his characterization, and it's a fun part of his characterization, but I also try not to overemphasize it? A lot of my thoughts are here; also @theflyingwonder has some good panel collections here and here and here if you want to see what Dick generally looks like when he's grumpy about something.

General thoughts / caveats:

Anger is obviously not the only emotion Dick ever feels!! He feels many other emotions too!! The fact that he is capable of getting really angry sometimes does not mean that he is angry all the time!!

He's a person who feels emotions very deeply - anger, love, loyalty, etc. - but also has a very conflicted relationship with his emotions. He aspires to be perfectly controlled, like he imagines Bruce is, and he's ashamed of moments when he loses control. Because he's wound pretty tight and represses a lot, his emotions can be a bit explosive when he loses his grip on them.

I would never describe him as "an angry person." He doesn't walk around fuming at the world and looking for things to be mad about, y'know? He's a person who wants to be optimistic and tries to be optimistic. This very much includes when he's Robin.

He wouldn't blow up over an inconvenience unless he was already really upset about something more serious. But yeah, if he's upset about something important, sometimes he'll lash out at whatever's closest.

He's methodical and focused; he'll sometimes get impatient when he's, say, bored by his friends' TV preferences, and in general he gets restless and likes to be moving, but if he's got a challenging task to complete he's completely capable of hyper-focusing on it.

In his civilian life, he generally has a pretty good grip on the anger - so e.g. I don't remember him ever shouting at Clancy or civilian friends in general. When a reporter tries to get dirt on him by interviewing his neighbors at his apartment complex, they universally gush about how nice he is.

Meanwhile, in his vigilante life, he's got a rigid moral code and a rigid sense of duty. He cares a lot about helping people and protecting civilians, and he's emotionally-fulfilled by it, and he can be very kind. But he's also a super-intense person who takes his responsibilities seriously, and he'll get sharp with people that he feels aren't being serious enough. He only screws around when he's with people who are very serious themselves, like Bruce.

In an argument, Dick's generally direct and confrontational: he'll snap at you to your face, not sulk behind your back. Even when he's being a bit more passive-aggressive, he's not subtle about it. If Dick's annoyed with you, you'll know. If he doesn't like you, he makes it obvious.

Jean-Paul: I've seen you with Robin - you like Robin. Dick: You got a problem with Robin? Jean-Paul: No! I like Robin, too. He's an exceptional young man. I just mean... it's obvious when you like someone. And equally obvious that you don't like me. (GK 14)

Dick's just a very dynamic character in general, rather than a static one. When he's relaxed, he can be very easygoing and friendly; if you get off on the wrong foot with him, he's prickly and often harsh. He's got a very serious core, a strong sense of principle, and a passionate sense of loyalty to the people he cares about. Here's a light-hearted moment with Dick and Tim fooling around playing tag:

Dick (grabbing Tim from above): Gotcha! Tim: Augh! (B: Transference)

This is from the exact same arc as the panel at the top - but before Hugo Strange almost kills Bruce. And just in general I think this panel is a good reminder that Dick does all kinds of things that are not about being angry, that he's also the person who keeps Tim fed and repeatedly saves him from falling, that sometimes he'll pour his heart out to Bruce, that he really really really loves his friends, and so on.

Now, all that said, if you would like an extensive deep dive into Dick yelling at people (and really, who wouldn't? yelling is fun!), I've collected a super-long list of quotes which I've attempted to corral into organization. Below the cut:

Dick vs. criminals

Dick vs. Bruce

Dick + list of reasons he gets upset

Dick + annoyance at friends/teammates

Dick + lashing out at loved ones (rare! but, uh, very memorable)

Dick + first meetings with future siblings (+Steph)

In conclusion

Anger at Criminals

Dick's temper is an important part of how he thinks of himself: he's intensely self-aware about his temper and also conflicted about it. It comes up most often when he's fighting criminals, especially when they're threatening people he loves:

Dick (internally): At first, I couldn't believe what they were saying… but as the truth sank in, I felt a rage growing so great inside me - that it felt like I was just a part of the anger, instead of it being a part of me. Kid!Dick: Those animals! They murdered my mother and father! I'm going to the police! Bruce: No... not yet. (Secret Origins 13) Deathwing: You've been so angry for so long, Dick. Learn to accept it because you have no choice. You will become me, Dick, and I know because I am your worst nightmare! I am you! Dick: Never! I'm not you and I'll never be you! Yeah, I get angry. Sometimes I get so pissed I want to break everything in sight. But everyone gets mad. Everyone gets frustrated. But I don't fight out of anger! I fight when there's something wrong that needs to be stopped! And that's why I'll never be you! I don't fight to kill - I fight to protect! And what you said about Batman - well, pal, screw you. He's the best mentor anyone ever had! (NT 100) Dick (internally): I hit him harder than I should. Not sure why. It worries me that it feels so right. (N 2) Dick: I thought I was more in control than that. But I lost it. Tim: It was made right, Dick. The Joker is alive and not well in a maximum security cell. Dick: It’s not right with me. I never thought I could be a killer. I’m wrong. There’s a part of me I never saw before. The rage. I never felt anger like that. I feel like it clawed me up inside. (N 64) Dick (internally): Nothing Jason says can be taken for truth. He says Tim is dead. I'll need more proof than his word and an empty cowl. Because right now, I need to keep that hope alive. If for nothing else, then to keep me from losing control… and I won't let that happen. Can't let that happen. Can't. Dick (punching Jason): WHERE IS HE, JASON? Jason: Depends on what kind of life he led. Dick (breaking Jason's nose, then internally): There goes his nose. Control your anger. (BftC 3) Jason (internally): Dick is different from Bruce. In the way he fights. In the way he thinks. And the way he feels. And he gets angry. Really angry. That anger, it'd make him a great Batman, if he'd let it. He's trying too much to be like him.  The good son. Man, I hate him.  (B&R 25)

So something you'll notice about all of these moments is that Dick isn't proud of his anger. He doesn't experience it as cathartic, and he isn't proud of the things he does when he's angry. His anger is an enemy; it's the person he doesn't want to be, to the extent that after the fact being angry almost feels like an out-of-body experience, because in the burn of anger he'll do things that his conscious mind rejects.

I tend to think of anger for Dick as akin to a temptation. He's strong and talented and smart. He's capable of really hurting people. He also believes - viscerally, fiercely - that it's wrong to do so.

Worth remembering: Dick's big confrontation with Zucco, in most of his origin stories, involves taking the photo that gets him arrested:

Dick (remembering): Twenty-four hours later, we were on the trail of Boss Zucco... and when he murdered his own henchman, I took the photo that sent Zucco to prison! (Secret Origins 13)

And in Batman: Year Three, he's furious when he thinks that Bruce might have arranged for Zucco to get killed - when Dick's calm and thinking clearly, he believes it's wrong to kill even people who are clearly evil. It's only when he's swept up in emotion that he'll get violent.

Anger at Bruce

... Look, I had to give Bruce his own category.

Dick and Bruce have a lot of fights. Like, a lot of fights.

Now, this isn't at all particular to Dick! Dick's just one of many, many, many people in Bruce's life who periodically get fed up with him. So I wouldn't gloss this as Dick being unusually short-tempered - post-Crisis Bruce would provoke a saint (and does! at one point Clark briefly votes him out of the JLA!). And Dick doesn't always get angry when Bruce is being a jerk to him - sometimes he's just discouraged, or depressed.

But at the same time, Dick's not a pushover, and when he's sufficiently provoked, he'll often track Bruce down to confront him / demand an explanation / demand better behavior / etc. Paradoxically, I actually tend to see these confrontations as an expression of Dick's faith in Bruce. He gets angry because he expects better.

Here's a small sampling of Dick-angry-at-Bruce moments (some confrontations, some where Dick's just fuming on his own):

Bruce: Listen to me. Dick: Listen to you? You hand Gotham over to that nutcase altar boy. You leave this kid out to dry without a snowball's chance. Then you throw everything you’ve lived for aside like it was nothing! Killing this creep doesn’t make you as bad as the scum we hunt. It makes you worse. Because they never stood for anything. (R 8) Dick: If you say anything about 'finding myself,' I think I'll puke. Bruce: I thought you'd be glad to see me back. Dick: That depends on why you came back. Bruce: To take up the mantle again. To take back my place. Dick: For how long this time? Bruce: Not now, Dick. We can talk about this when - Dick: Right now. We're settling this right now, Bruce. (R 12 - Bruce has abruptly reappeared in the Batcave after leaving Dick and Tim in charge during Prodigal)

Dick: It was you who told us to stay out of Gotham. I’ve got a life here. I can’t just walk away from that. You’ll have to - (Bruce hangs up on him) Damn you! (N 34 - Bruce has been AWOL for months and now abruptly summons Dick to join him in No Man's Land) Dick (internally): Bruce is playing martyr. Keeping us at a distance. […] Why does it have to be this way with us? WHY? (He punches his car, and his hand comes away bloody.) Uncontrollable rage. The same rage I felt when I killed the Joker. Thought I had it under control. (N 65 - Bruce is accused of murder and freezing out the Bats) Bruce: What are you doing out of bed? Dick: You did it again, didn't you? You pushed everyone away! (N 99) Bruce: I assume this isn't a social call? Dick: What the hell is the matter with you? I mean, aside from the obvious! Ignoring the many layers of denial, and the fifty feet of psychological body armor that you throw up to avoid feeling anything! Aside from that! And the pathological need to control everything on Earth and beyond! Ignoring all that! What exactly is your compulsion, your burning desire to deceive, lie, and manipulate the only people who give a good god damn about you?! Bruce: You getting to a point? (O 21 - Dick just found out that Bruce was secretly funding the Outsiders)

Dick's relationship with Bruce is Complicated (TM), because he's also incredibly loyal, and - despite everything - he loves Bruce a lot. A lot of Dick's anger comes out of this frustrated loyalty - Dick feels betrayed and hurt because he loves Bruce so much. Here's a panel from later in Outsiders 21:

Bruce: You shouldn't place that much faith in me. Dick: I have more faith in you than anyone.

Reasons why Dick gets angry: an incomplete list

So if Dick isn't really the type to, say, rage-quit a game, then what does he get angry about (other than criminals and Bruce in general)?

I've tried to loosely categorize what seem to me to be the main things that can make him lose his temper:

as above, somebody Dick loves has been hurt and he's furious at the person who did it (so e.g. trying to kill the Wildebeests when they threaten the Titans, trying to kill Hugo Strange for trying to kill Bruce, lashing out at Tumult when he hurts Tim),

he's feeling attacked or betrayed and he's lashing out in self-defense (so e.g. a lot of the fights with Bruce, punching Roy after Roy fires him in New Titans, or calling Roy a junkie when Roy tells him he's just like Bruce in Outsiders, or yelling at Tim when Tim's insisting he should be Robin again),

he's angry about a lack of loyalty (so e.g. he's furious and feels betrayed when he learns that Bruce has replaced him with Jason; he's angry at Bruce for picking Azrael as Batman instead of Dick; he's angry at Tim when Tim suggests Bruce might be a murderer)

he's jealous (so e.g. he's hurt and angry when Kory marries someone else; his resentment of Azrael is much more about Bruce than it is about Azrael)

he's angry at another vigilante for behaving too violently/irresponsibly (so e.g. he has multiple fights with Kory insisting that she can't kill anyone; he's similarly furious with Bruce when he thinks Bruce has tried to kill someone; he snaps at the Titans in general after a failed mission; he's harsh about Tim and his team during Graduation Day)

he's unhappy and taking it out on someone else, often to drive them away (so e.g. he snaps at Donna and Alfred when he's depressed about Kory's marriage - arguably there's some supernatural influence here, but IMO he'd do it anyway; he gets snappish with Tim when he's depressed about his own lack of progress with Chulo/in Blüdhaven and also when he's actually mad at Bruce about Jean-Paul; he's very harsh to Babs and Wally when they try to comfort him post-J:LL; arguably most of his behavior in Outsiders after Donna's death falls under this category too),

he's unhappy and he's taking it out on an inanimate object (so e.g. smashing things after hearing about Kory's potential marriage; punching his car until his hand is bloody after Bruce has been a jerk to him, smashing a sign when Babs is jabbing at him by comparing him to Bruce),

his privacy is being violated by paparazzi (Dick hates photographers and will not hesitate to punch them or destroy their equipment)

I think something important about all these reasons is... they're understandable? It's not surprising that Dick is upset about the woman he loves marrying someone else; it would be stranger if he wasn't upset. It's not surprising that he lashes out defensively when he's feeing attacked - this is an extremely common thing to do! Dick's anger isn't a weird cloud of rage that just descends on him for no reason; he gets angry when he has something to get angry about.

That said, he does have particular things he's especially touchy about - loyalty, privacy, control, etc. And his anger can be physical - he does break things.

Dick + annoyance with friends/teammates

Dick calls a team meeting to rebuke the Titans in Titans 13

This is lower-key, so I wouldn't always describe this as anger per se, but it feels relevant: Dick can get snappish if he's in a bad mood, though he'll usually back off if it's pointed out to him:

Dick: Half this world goes to hell in a handcart and you do nothing? Donna: Hey, don't shout at me because your personal life has gone crazy. We had a crisis… Dick: You had a crisis? Who hasn't? And my personal life, for what it's worth, is a: just fine, and b: none of your business. Do me a favor and go. I want to be alone. (NTT 18 - Dick's upset because Kory is marrying someone else)

Dick: Roy! What the hell is this? Why is Lian in the way? She should be in a crib or something, not where people can step on her. Roy: Dick, my daughter is in nobody's way, and I'm watching her every move. Dick: Oh, yeah? Well, I've had it - Roy: Dick, your friends are here to help you and you're not making it any easier. C'mon, pal - calm down. Dick: You're right. I'm sorry. This is all getting to me. Roy: Really? The immediate world and I never noticed. (NT 100)

Dick (surprising Tim): You should've known you wouldn't hear anything. Not in this wind - but if you'd been downwind on the other side, you might have scented me. Tim (startled): Nightwing! Dick: You did want to meet - or do you just like playing computer games? Now let’s make it snappy - I’m in New York on my own business. Tim: And a big fat hi to you, too. (Showcase '93 11 - Dick's upset because he's blaming himself for someone Chulo murdered)

Dick: He didn't send you to check up on me? Tim: Huh? Dick (scowling): Don't play dumb. Tim: Batman? I came down on my own, Dick. What's with the attitude? Dick: Sorry, Tim. I haven't been making a lot of progress since I got here. (N 6 - Dick's self-aware here - he's on edge because he thinks he's doing a bad job)

Babs: Okay, calm down, take a deep breath, and explain again why you’re so angry… Dick: Why am I angry? I’m not angry, I’m–I’m–I’m dismayed, okay? I’m dismayed that there can be a Robin who believes Batman could be guilty of murder! How could that happen, Babs? How could that happen?! (GK 26) Kory: You could say goodbye to your teammates. Dick: They're not my teammates anymore. Kory: They noticed. (TT/O Secret Files 2005)

You'll notice that several of these include Dick backtracking and apologizing. He doesn't hold grudges or fume forever! And Dick's generally self-aware enough to realize why he's snappish once he takes a step back:

Dick: I…I’m sorry…I know this isn’t your fault. Here I’m attacking you - and you’re probably just as scared as I am. I just feel so frustrated. Batman could always remain calm in a crisis. I guess that’s just another difference between us. Maybe I’d be better off if I just cut myself off from all feeling like he does. (NT 77)

Something Dick generally isn't apologetic about: Dick is intensely self-critical about badly-done vigilante work, and in a team setting, he's not that patient with other people's mistakes.

Here's Dick calling a team meeting so he can scold the team in Titans 13:

Dick: Lock the doors, sit down, and pay attention. And that's an order. ... Our performance against Tartarus and the HIVE was unacceptable. Each and every one of you should thank God you weren't killed.

Here's an argument between Dick and Donna in Graduation Day 2 - the context is that Young Justice just screwed up an earlier fight, and Tim's berating himself and Conner while Dick and Donna eavesdrop (you'll notice that like Dick, Tim tends to be pretty self-critical + impatient with teammates):

Conner: The Titans got their lumps. Tim: No, the Titans got our lumps. They were looking out for us. There we were, shoulder to shoulder with the inspiration for Young Justice. And we lose half our team and half of theirs. Conner: Tim, I bet they were a lot like us when they started. Tim: No, I don't think so. (Donna and Dick are eavesdropping.) Donna: He's being awfully hard on himself. Kind of reminds me of someone. Dick: I don't know what you're talking about. Donna: You could tell him he's wrong. Dick: Is he? Donna: We stepped in it plenty of times, Dick. Plenty. We got beat by Dr. Light. Completely pantsed by Trident. We had the ill-conceived idea that the Mad Mod was a threat. There was that time in South America when we left Garth in the sun for three hours. Lots of stuff… We even got kidnapped by Count Vertigo. How embarrassing was that? Dick: I didn't get kidnapped. I got nabbed when I was coming to save Roy. Donna: Nevertheless, they could use a kind word. Dick: I'm not sure a kind word is what they need.

The upshot is that Donna goes to comfort Cassie while Dick goes off alone.

Again, the point is not that Dick goes around fuming about his teammates 24/7! He cares about the Titans and trusts them to watch his back; he feels the same way about Tim.

But in the heat of the moment, he'll sometimes get snappish or impatient, especially with people he's close to. The friends that Dick has who stick around are the ones who are tough enough to stand up to him, and who understand him enough not to take his occasional moods personally.

Dick + lashing out at loved ones

This one's a bit meaner. Dick's really good at picking out other people's insecurities, which he almost never uses against them ... but when he's retaliating, he's got an instinct for what will hurt the most:

Dick: No, I won't stop it. How dare you tell me what to do when you screwed up so badly Raven could be dead by now? Who knows what Mento did to Gar and Vic? Maybe your failure killed Kole. No, I won't stop. I won't! Donna (punching him): Shut up, Dick! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I don't want to hear anymore! Dick: But you're going to, Donna. You made me listen to what you had to say. But you don't like hearing the truth about yourself, do you? The perfect Donna Troy maybe isn't so perfect after all. (NTT 19 - Dick's under an ambiguous amount of Brother Blood influence during this period, but he's also just really upset about Kory, and I tend to interpret BB as "reducing his self-control" not "he's a totally different person")

Bruce: I didn't expect to see you again. Dick: I heard about Jason. I'm really sorry, Bruce. Bruce: You weren't at the funeral. People asked about you. Dick: C'mon, Bruce - talk. Don't turn your back on me. I'm here… now. Bruce: You were lucky. When you didn't listen to me, your injuries weren't fatal. Of course, by the time I properly trained you - Dick: Bruce, c'mon…lay off. I'm not here to fight. Bruce: Then don't! Dick: Are you blaming me? I left, so Jason replaced me, and because I left he died? No way, pal. Jason wasn't me. I was a trained acrobat. I could think quickly in perilous situations. But why did you let him become Robin before he was ready?!? Bruce (punching him): Don't you dare blame me for Jason's death! Don't you dare! (NT 55 - this fight is ofc 110% Bruce's fault even before the punch, but Dick absolutely is blaming Bruce for Jason's death here) Dick (trying to punch Roy): GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME, YOU TRAITOR!  Roy: Dick, I'm your friend… Blast it, man - why are you doing this?  Dick: Friends don't turn on friends, Harper. I've been there every time you called me. I sat up with you all night while you were detoxing. That was not a pretty sight.  (NT 101 - Dick's upset about getting fired as team leader)

Dick: I disgraced myself and my uniform. Both uniforms. I have to learn to live with that or quit. No more surprise visits, Babs. Don't make me sorry I put an elevator in this building. (BoP 37)

Roy: Look at you! Your greatest fear in life, the thing that eats at you - is that you're terrified of becoming Batman!! A cold, detached, emotionless loner. I've got news for you, that's exactly what you are. You've become the man who raised you. Dick: Yeah…and you're just like the man who raised you. A shallow, self-loathing, womanizing thrill-seeker. Except he was never a junkie. (O 16) Gar: I guess it doesn't bother you that your new teammate killed your old one? 'Cause it sure bothers the hell outta me. Dick: Enough. I'm here to find Kory and Tim. I don't need Terra's best friend lecturing me about loyalty. (TT/O Secret Files 2005)

Dick + 1st meetings with future siblings (+Steph)

I hesitated including this on the list because it's lower-key and not always anger per se, but I think a lot of times when people say Dick "has a temper," they're not necessarily talking about his angriest moments so much as pushing back against the idea that he's happy or welcoming all the time.

If you're reading post-Crisis canon, Dick's a prickly introvert who can be slow to warm up to newcomers in Gotham. He's not exclusively cranky by any means! But he's not all smiles, either. Here are some snappish moments from first meetings with Jason, Tim, Cass, Damian, and Steph:

Dick: They'll probably switch to another lab, now that you've spooked them. Jason: Then it's no big deal! We'll just locate their new digs and bust them when they take possession. Dick: Wrong! I'll locate the new lab all by myself! You're going home to tell Batman how you screwed up tonight! Jason: Come on... (from Dick's first meeting with Jason in B 416 - Jason attacked a group of criminals too hastily)

Dick: Now, who the hell are you? Tim: That doesn't matter now. Dick, look at this please. Dick: Kid, I don't like games. (from Dick's first-technically-second meeting with Tim in LPoD - Tim's been chasing him all around the circus, and although Dick doesn't yet know this, also broke into his apartment)

Bruce: You can trust her. Dick: Six months ago, that would've gotten you further than it will now. Now, I'm not sure it's enough. Bruce: What more would it take? Dick: An explanation of who she is for a start. (from Dick's first meeting with Cass in B: LotDK 120 - Bruce went AWOL for months and has now resurfaced with a protégé) Jason: It's a new world. It's not all backflips and balance bars. You were good. Were. But Gotham needs a tougher Robin now. Dick (internally): A sneaky, mean little punk. Maybe you hired him before the Joker could. (from the retold version of Dick's first meeting with Jason in N 104 - Bruce gave stupid instructions leading Jason to misunderstand and pick a fight with Dick)

Dick (internally, when he notices Damian's makeshift Robin costume): Damian's costume. Note to self: smack a clue into this kid. Damian: You're embarrassing me! Dick: You do that just fine on your own. (from Dick's first meeting with Damian in N 138 - Damian's probably scared, which means he's snarky; he's making rude remarks and resisting Dick and Tim's attempts to protect him)

Dick: What in the hell were - are - you thinking, throwing someone so reckless into the field like that? Babs: Gosh, Dick - I'm sorry I haven't spent more time trying to train a murderous little twit. (from right after Dick's first meeting with Steph in BG 5 - Steph accidentally froze Damian)

How much you weight these moments depends a lot on your personal aesthetic preferences! I love conflict, and Dick's initially kinda thorny relationships with his siblings are part of why I enjoy him as a character. I don't feel the need to "fix" this kind of grumpiness and honestly I don't even really see it as a flaw? Dick's not morally obliged to like his future siblings on first meeting them, and if he never got snappish with any siblings ever, no matter how annoying they were being, he'd be a lot less interesting to me personally.

For me, Dick's prickly side adds an important nuance to his characterization, and makes it more compelling. He's a human being, not a conduct book! His strength is that he's willing to reconsider his first impressions, not that he never has negative first impressions.

That said, obviously genre and context matter! I have enjoyed plenty of softer takes on the Batfamily in fanworks, and in a softer, gentler world like e.g. WFA, it would be weird to keep Dick's grumpier moments. Also, Dick obviously isn't 24/7 harsh to his siblings - he can also be really empathetic and protective, and although he never gets especially close to e.g. Steph, he does change his mind about her, and he's ultimately a huge source of emotional support to Tim and Damian (they grow on him! ... eventually).

In Conclusion

One of my favorite Dick stories of all time is Nightwing 139, and I think it nicely encapsulates how I see Dick's anger - it's an important contrast to his softer side. He's a person with an instinctive temper, and compassion and understanding aren't always immediate or easy or effortless for him. But he's also a loving person with a big heart, and it's the love that always matters to him in the end.

Here's Dick discovering that Tim is thinking about using the Lazarus Pit, getting angry, and leaping down to try to physically stop him ("He may not stop you, but I sure as hell will!")

Dick (sarcastically): So, Robin... you think maybe we can hug this out?

It's important to me that Dick's first instinct is to have a physical fight, not to try to talk! He does all the wrong things before he does the right thing! He doesn't magically know the right thing to say to Tim right away!

But doing the right thing matters to him, and Tim matters to him, which is why he gets there eventually. When Tim tears up Dick softens at once:

And in the end Dick backs off and lets Tim make the choice, which isn't easy or instinctive for him either! But it's the right thing to do, and it's what Tim needs to pull himself out of the power struggle and realize he's making a mistake, and then Tim stammers apologies and Dick reassures him and they do hug it out, and it's very tender:

Without Dick's anger, you don't have a lot of his stories. But his anger doesn't define him - he doesn't let it. As Dick puts it,

"Yeah, I get angry. Sometimes I get so pissed I want to break everything in sight. But everyone gets mad. Everyone gets frustrated. But I don't fight out of anger! I fight when there's something wrong that needs to be stopped! And that's why I'll never be you! I don't fight to kill - I fight to protect!

And that's a big part of why I think he's great.

[jocelynships]

So I have an AU for my Marvel S/I where she’s from our world and gets basically isekai’d into the Marvel universe

And the more I think about it the funnier it is if she’s just horrified and constantly wants out the entire time. Like. It was only a joke when she said she wished she lived in the fictional world but now that all THAT bullshit is real? Nope not dealing with it!

[carsonian]

been on a green day kick so now it's everybody else's problem

lyrics from "american idiot" by green day

also on ao3 here.

[greensparty]

BEST DOCUMENTARIES OF 2023

Documentary as a genre can encompass any medium: feature film, TV mini-series, or even podcasts. Here are my picks for the best Docs of the Year:

Honorable Mentions:          

Geddy Lee Asks: Are Bassists Human Too?  Sam Dunn

A Compassionate Spy  Steve James

10. Albert Brooks: Defending My Life Rob Reiner

9. Personality Crisis: One Night Only  Martin Scorsese / David Tedeschi

8. Little Richard: I Am Everything  Lisa Cortes

7. Lynch/Oz  Alexandre O. Philippe

6. The Lost Weekend: A Love Story Eve Brandstein / Richard Kaufman / Stuart Samuels

5. A Disturbance in the Force Jeremy Coon / Steve Kozak

Who would have thought a deep dive into The Star Wars Holiday Special could be so fascinating?

4. Still: A Michael J. Fox Movie Davis Guggenheim

Guggenheim has made a pop culture-soaked doc that is also delving deep into a man facing the realities of a debilitating disease. About time Michael J. Fox got the doc treatment!

3. Bono & The Edge: A Sort of Homecoming with Dave Letterman Morgan Neville

David Letterman visits Dublin and learns about Ireland from the locals while also talking with Bono and The Edge about U2’s history and it’s every bit as engaging as it sounds!

2. Chasing Chasing Amy  Sav Rodgers

This is really two docs: one about Kevin Smith’s Chasing Amy from the perspective of 2023 and one about director Sav Rodgers’ own trajectory and the influence the film had on them!

1. 20 Days in Mariupol  Mstyslav Chernov

Filmed from the front lines in the besieged city of Mariupol after Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, this doc is at times hard to watch, but it’s one of the most powerful docs ever made about the brutal impact of war.

[thatone-churro]

me: college is gonna be my hoeing around phase, fr.

me after being dragged to one fake orientation “party” and immediately being uncomfortable:

[m0onlustre]

The price of desire

You were his biggest rival’s assistant, yet you had something that could benefit him. So what happens when a transaction between your boss and him goes wrong and you find your way in between?

ᯓPairing: Sylus x female reader (afab)

ᯓGenre: rivals to lovers, smut, porn with some ooc plot, angst

ᯓWord Count: 4,4k

ᯓ tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, alterations to the main story, toxic relationship, dr/y humping, t/easing, (lowkey) o/rgasm control, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, breath play, sensory play, spanking, mention of breeding!kink (toxic if you squint really hard), creampies, dom!sylus, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie), violence, mentions of blood and injuries.

ᯓnotes: This is my first published work here, it took me some time to write but I believe I’m content with how it came out. At first, the idea was to keep it a part one which is connected to an event of the series. Ending this part, I can think of some ways this can go, but I’d still want your opinion:) If you want to see more of this, please go ahead and ask. Any reblogs and likes will be appreciated.

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You were a dangerous woman, a fact well-known throughout the N109 Zone. As the assistant to one of the most feared men in the underworld, your reputation was built on the edge of a knife. 

But today, the real danger sat directly across from you at the table—your boss's most formidable and deadly rival: Sylus.

His silver-white hair fell messily over his forehead, creating a disheveled yet intentional look that only added to his unsettling charisma. A smirk played on his lips, while his crimson eyes held an unreadable intensity,  as he sat on the table with his henchmen on each side of him. Luke and Kieran.

You had done your research, uncovering every scrap of information about the three men before you. It was a challenge, of course; the leader of the most notorious illegal organization in the N109 Zone wasn’t one to divulge valuable intel easily. Yet you had pieced together enough to know the depths of Sylus's ruthlessness.

You were certain of one thing: Sylus would not hesitate to sacrifice anyone—including his own men—if it suited his purpose. The black-red tendrils of his mist would mercilessly end the person and he wouldn’t blink an eye while his lethal capability, capable of extinguishing a life in an instant, would take over. 

The only individuals he seemed to protect were Luke and Kieran, his unwavering henchmen, whose loyalty was both a strength and a potential weakness in this deadly game.

Everyone claimed that the twins were somewhat adopted by him—a complex relationship in which he protected and provided for them in exchange for their loyalty and services.

If you were being honest with yourself, you found yourself drawn to the twins. They exuded a carefree spirit that brought an element of fun, even in the context of business. You often wished you could shed your own uptight demeanor and embrace life as they did.

Your thoughts were abruptly pulled back to the present when one of Sylus’s men dropped two large armory boxes onto the table that separated your group from his. As the man opened the boxes, a collection of modified and illegal firearms was revealed, each piece looking as lethal as the man who had crafted them.

Dante, your boss, rose from his chair beside you to inspect the guns. After all, that was the purpose of this meeting—a trade, a business transaction between two men who despised each other's very existence, yet could not deny that, in times of crisis, their respective resources could prove invaluable to one another.

Dante provided the protocores, and Sylus expertly modified them. When Dante requested his part of the deal, the modified protocores were returned to him in the form of firearms capable of ending a life in less than the blink of an eye.

“Resourceful as always, Mr. Sylus,” your boss mused, but Sylus’s gaze was locked onto yours, seemingly ignoring Dante entirely.

“Oh, Dante,” he said, the man’s name dripping with disdain, “my little black heart is shattered into pieces. One would think you’d have learned by now not to question my methods or my work.”

You rolled your eyes at the silver-haired menace, your heels clicking against the carpet in a rhythm of impatience. You were growing weary of this standoff. Dante needed to state the agreed price and move on already.

“Set the price.”

Sylus’s smirk widened at Dante’s request, his eyes now fully focused on him. He seemed to stall deliberately, taking slow, measured steps around the room. His imposing aura filled the space, the coat draped over his broad shoulders swaying slightly with each movement. Finally, he came to a halt by the table, gripping its edge with both hands and leaning forward.

“Such a pretty kitten you have with you, hm?” he taunted.

Your gaze turned icy as Dante’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Are you referring to Miss Y/N?”

Sylus tilted his head to the side, his crimson eyes locking onto you once more, studying you with an intensity that made you uneasy. “You’re a foolish man, Dante.”

“What the hell did you just say?” 

You exhaled through your nose, frustrated by your boss’s inability to keep his pride in check when it came to Sylus. This man ran an entire organization yet seemed unable to handle a little provocation.

“I said…” Sylus drawled, relishing the moment, “you’re a foolish man. Only someone with the brain capacity of a goldfish would keep a pretty kitten like her uncollared.”

You shot up from your seat faster than lightning, leaning dangerously close to Sylus, your hand itching to grab one of the weapons from the boxes in front of you.

“You should watch your mouth when speaking to a lady, Mr. Sylus,” you seethed, your voice low but fierce. “Only a man with the brain capacity of a goldfish would disrespect a woman for no apparent reason.”

Sylus chuckled at your retort, a wide grin spreading across his sharp features, revealing his teeth.

“Feisty,” he mouthed, a smirk playing on his lips, meant only for you to see.

Just then, Dante stepped up behind you, and you almost forgot he was there until his hand landed firmly on your behind, giving it a squeeze. Your hand was so close to the gun that it took all your willpower not to reach for it.

Sylus's expression shifted, the amusement fading as his brows furrowed, re-centering on his forehead.

“Set. Your. Price,” Dante reiterated, his body uncomfortably close to yours.

You had served as his assistant for far too many years, becoming accustomed to his unpredictable behavior. Yet, deep down, he knew you wouldn’t dare act against him with all his guards surrounding him.

You were a capable assassin, more than capable of matching his malevolence, but you were just one woman up against his entire army. He was well aware of your skills, which is precisely why he always kept a close contingent of guards present during your meetings in his office. You were his most valuable asset, yet he was frightened of what you could do if pushed too far.

Despite this knowledge, he often seemed to forget the extent of your capabilities, choosing instead to provoke Sylus.

“Her.”

“No.” Your response was immediate, your tone firm. He couldn’t be serious.

Dante’s chest shook with laughter beside you, his golden teeth glinting in the light.

“She’s off the table, I’m afraid,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Very well, then.” Sylus retracted from the table and rose to his full height, a shadow looming over both you and your boss. “So is the deal. Have a good one, Mr. Dante.”

Your shoulders relaxed for only a brief moment, but before you could even blink, you found yourself lifted off your feet and thrown over the table like a ragdoll.

Fucking bastard.

Of course, the deal was too important for him to let it slip away. Sylus knew exactly what he was doing when he pulled this stunt.

“Don’t even think about it,” you spat, your voice harsh and defiant. “I am your right hand; your business will crumble without me!”

Sylus seemed to revel in the chaos, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. As his black-red mist began to swirl around the room, it coalesced around your body, lifting you off the table and bringing you effortlessly to his side.

Your struggles were utterly futile. No power could match his evol.

“Bastard!” you yelled, directing your fury at your boss.

Dante let out a deep sigh, visibly irritated but choosing to remain silent. His organization was already on the brink of collapse, a fact known only to you—and apparently Sylus too. That was the reason he had recently struck a deal with Onychinus; only their resources could possibly uplift him now—if anyone could, that is.

“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Dante.”

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The plush sofa of his dimly lit living room felt uncomfortably rough against your bare thighs as you took in your surroundings. Your revealing dress had ridden up significantly due to the twins’ rough handling as they placed you there, while their boss prowled around the sofa like a predator circling its prey.

The record player in the corner emitted a classical melody that only heightened the unnerving atmosphere, each note echoing with an eerie elegance.

“So uptight,” Sylus whispered in your ear, causing you to jump as his breath brushed against your skin. You hadn’t even noticed when he had gotten so close. “My, my… and so jumpy, aren’t we, kitten? Just try not to scratch my ceiling.”

You turned to glare at him, and if looks could kill, he would have been slain by the fire in your eyes. Nevertheless, you managed to keep your voice steady. “Why am I here?”

He didn’t bother to meet your gaze as he sank into his enormous cushioned chair across from you. A black-and-red mist began to swirl around your body once more, and before you could react, it lifted you off the couch and positioned you right on his lap, straddling him.

“What the hell?”

His hand shot up, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Shh, just keep your claws sheathed for a moment.”

You could feel your patience wearing thin. “Why. am I. here?”

Sylus's jaw tightened slightly, and if you weren’t intently observing his every expression, you might have missed it. “Because, kitten, Dante and I had a transaction.”

“Isn’t your typical price protocores when dealing with my boss?”

“Typically…” Sylus’s gaze was fixed on your face as an eerie silence enveloped the room.

Before you could process his words, his hand snaked around your throat, pulling you closer. His eyes locked onto your lips, a predatory glint flickering within them.

“What are you doing…” you whispered, your body tensing in instinctive response.

“Show me, kitten.”

“What?”

Sylus chuckled softly, a mocking sound that sent shivers down your spine. “I know you’re a smart kitten; don’t play dumb with me. It won’t help you.”

Of course, you understood what he was implying, but how did he know?

“I have no idea what you want,” you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

His hand tightened around your throat, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. Then you noticed it—the red glow of his eye—and you realized what he was doing. “Show me.”

Ironically, he was now in control of your actions, even though he sought the opposite.

You slowly removed your glove, compelled by the white-haired man in front of you. Your bare hand pressed firmly against his chest, and in an instant, his heartbeat ceased.

Your breath hitched in your throat.

You stared at his face, dumbfounded, as the glow in his eye faded and his complexion turned an ashen pale. Before you could comprehend what was happening, a low chuckle echoed through the dimly lit room.

Sylus’s chuckle. He was alive. Wait, what the hell?

His laughter grew more vibrant with each passing second as he took in your horrified expression. You shot your hand out again, daring to touch him, but he caught your wrist, tossing it aside with ease.

“Ravishing…” he breathed, his eyes darkening to a richer shade.

You watched him for a moment, trying to make sense of everything that had unfolded in the past few hours, until suddenly, everything clicked into place.

You gasped.

“You fucking bastard!” you shouted, fury igniting in your voice. “Is this why you didn’t take the protocores? Is this why you asked for me?”

Sylus’s arrogant smirk returned, dominating his features. “He wasn’t aware of the precious possession he had in his own house, sweetie. But I am.”

“You are… sick.” The expression on his face darkened, and something twisted in your gut, though you wished it was anything but excitement at his subtle praise. “You will not control me. I belong to no one.”

“Oh, kitten, I’m not trying to control you. This is just… a deal.” His eyebrows shot up, his face tilting slightly to the side as if he found your defiance amusing. “Isn’t business what you excel at? Or do you want me to believe it was Dante who called the shots?”

Your own expression faltered, but your body began to relax atop his, a fact he noted with a small, apprehensive smile that curled at his lips. “Are you trying to extract intel from me?”

He rolled his eyes at your tactics, a playful smirk on his face. “You are so gullible, kitten.”

He leaned in impossibly close, your breath catching in your throat and a shiver coursing through you as your body responded to his proximity. This was all so wrong.

“He didn’t value you nearly enough, sweetie,” Sylus whispered against your pulse, his warm breath sending a jolt through you. “But I can.” His teeth grazed your throat, and as your mouth opened, no sound dared to escape your lips.

“I…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I have no idea what—”

In one swift movement, you found yourself perched on the edge of the chair, Sylus looming over you like a consuming inferno. Your chests were nearly touching, and his eyes held a dangerous allure as he stared directly into your own. “I believe you do.”

His hand drifted from beside your head, descending to your collarbone as his fingertips caressed the delicate skin with a featherlight touch. “You can end someone with just a touch…” he whispered against your neck, and you had to fight against the electric shivers coursing through your body. “I am the only person you can’t kill, even if you tried, kitten.”

Your mind was slowly turning to mush as his hand roamed over the sensitive swell of your breasts, his lips planting tender kisses against your throat. “Don’t you see where I’m going with this? We’re meant for each other. Kindred spirits.”

“You’re insane,” you wanted to accuse him, but your voice came out breathless, betraying your mounting desire. A soft grunt escaped his lips, a sound that only fueled the tension between you.

“If I’m insane, what does that say about you, sweetie?” He began kissing his way down from your neck to your collarbone, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I can smell your arousal from up here.”

You gasped at his bold accusation, your body jerking in response, but it only heightened the sensation as your clothed core pressed against his torso. You tensed, and his lips curled into a dangerous smirk. “So insatiable…”

“This is so wrong…”

“I’ve never been a righteous man.”

You leaned back instinctively, your hands reaching out as if to find comfort around his neck, but he halted your movement just before contact.

In your hazy state, you noticed him licking his lips, his gaze searching the floor for something—your glove.

“As much as I can’t think of another way to go, I’d prefer to be fully conscious when your pretty cunt is all over my mouth.”

“You’re… outrageous,” your voice faltered, betraying the rush of emotions coursing through you. Your body reacted in ways that contradicted your words.

“Do you prefer gentle, kitten?” Sylus asked, his fingers teasingly tugging at the neckline of your dress, unveiling your flushed skin. His tongue flicked over your right nipple, while his other hand caressed the neglected one. “Would you rather I whisper sweet nothings and cherish you gently?”

His tone dripped with playful mockery, and you arched your back, responding instinctively to his touch and taunting words.

“Would you like me to take it slow? To tell you how beautiful you are?” he teased, his laughter rumbling softly in the air.

Your resolve crumbled as he nipped at your sensitive bud, his hand expertly working the other. “No!” you moaned, your gloved fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, caught in the intoxicating desire in the air.

He growled against your chest, his body pressing forcefully against your legs as they parted to accommodate him. He felt a thrill of compliance wash over you, nearly tempting him to follow through on his suggestion to take it easy.

“More,” you demanded, your fingers tugging insistently at his head, guiding him downward to where your dress had pooled around your waist, leaving your red lace panties tantalizingly exposed.

Sylus grinned at your eagerness, his gaze lingering on your clothed cunt. “God, kitten…” he grunted, pressing his nose against the damp spot on your panties, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks as a thrill of shame coursed through you. “Did you wear my favorite color on purpose?”

His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Or did you wear it for him?”

You could only whimper in response, arching your body desperately to bring his face where you craved it most. Instead, a sharp sting greeted your cunt, your eyes widening as a gasp of surprise escaped your lips.

He slapped your pussy again, his expression darkening into a scowl. “Answer me, kitten. Did you get all dolled up for him?”

You clenched around nothing, the possessiveness in his tone igniting a deeper need within you. “No,” you whimpered softly. “It wasn’t for him.”

In an instant, he tore your panties away, his mouth descending on your cunt, his tongue skillfully lapping at your folds. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

Your fingers clawed at his shoulder, sounds of pleasure escaping you uncontrollably as he toyed with your sensitive clit. “Such a sweet pussy,” he grunted against your core, sending shivers through your body. You slid down the chair, his face pressed firmly against you, your lower body lifted almost into the air. His strong arms wrapped around your thighs, hoisting your legs over his shoulders as he devoured you.

“Say my name, kitten.”

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, already giving him too much. “N-no.”

His teeth grazed your clit, sending waves of pleasure and frustration coursing through you as he slid one finger against your entrance, teasingly. “No?”

“No.” Your voice trembled, betraying the mix of emotions swelling within you as you neared your release with each stroke of his tongue, yet your stubbornness held firm.

“Very well, then.” In an instant, his mouth was gone, leaving you feeling cold and exposed as he stood to his full height.

“What…?”

Sylus leaned over you again, delivering a sharp slap to the side of your breasts that made you squirm and gasp. “This is my zone. My side of the board. Here, you either play by my rules and win, or you go against me and lose.” His voice was low and commanding as his hand reached down again, sliding two fingers inside you, curling them to find your sweet spot. “What will it be, kitten?”

By this point, your entire body felt like it belonged to someone else. “Please…” Your voice was laced with desperation, the plea spilling from your lips, unrecognizable even to you.

“Please what? Just say it, sweetie,” he urged, a teasing glint in his eyes.

His fingers quickened their pace, and your legs trembled under the mounting pleasure, each mewl that escaped your lips a symphony to his ears. “So—Oh my god… S-so close.”

The moment he sensed your walls beginning to clench around his fingers, a satisfied smile crept across his face, and you returned it through a haze of bliss—until you felt him start to withdraw.

Your hand shot out, wrapping around his wrist with a desperate grip, pulling him back toward you. “Sylus!” you cried, your stomach twisting in knots as sweet release threatened to crash over you.

“Sylus, yes, oh my god, yes…” You were barely coherent, the words tumbling from your mouth, but Sylus grunted, his pants taut against his rock-hard cock.

“That’s it… That’s it, sweetie, I know. Drench my fingers; they’re all yours.” He moved with an urgency that took your breath away, thrusting deeply inside you, sending shivers through your entire body as you rode the wave of your climax.

You panted, your chest rising and falling heavily. As the haze began to lift, your mouth fell open in awe, watching Sylus suckle on his fingers, his eyes glowing with satisfaction as he savored your essence.

A fresh wave of slickness coated your folds, and Sylus cursed under his breath as he stood, taking you with him. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your bare, wet cunt smearing against the fabric of his pants, leaving a tantalizing mess.

The coarse material of his attire heightened your senses, making your body arch in his arms as you ground your hips down, chasing that blissful friction.

“So eager…” he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin before he nipped at your earlobe. “And so fucking wet.” He strode toward his desk just a few feet away, easing you onto your feet. “I’m going to devour you.”

In one swift motion, your belly pressed against the polished surface of his mahogany desk, your body bent over, your ass perfectly positioned for him. He didn’t allow you a moment to breathe before two sharp slaps landed on your cheeks, your body jolting forward in response.

Your moans filled the air, driving him wild, and the way your back arched instinctively shattered any semblance of his control.

You heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper, and a thrill raced through you as his cock was freed from its confines, teasingly brushing against your entrance.

Turning your head over your shoulder, your eyes fell on him, and a rush of desire coursed through you. He was enormous, his veins prominent and pulsing, the tip glistening with precum that trickled down, landing directly on your cunt.

“Sylus…” You brought his attention back to you, and the look on your face made his brows knot slightly in concern.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” he asked, his voice thick with lust yet surprisingly calm. “Do you want me to stop?”

You placed your hand lightly against his abdomen, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, and shook your head. “No, it’s just…” Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, almost mirroring the color of his eyes. “It’s not going to fit.”

Sylus paused, momentarily dumbfounded, before releasing the breath he had been holding along with a low chuckle. “We’re going to make it fit, kitten.”

Skepticism flickered in your eyes, and he noticed.

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” You answered honestly. He had been your rival until now, and you couldn’t fully grasp how your dynamic had shifted to this moment, you bent over his desk, spread  and exposed.

He grinned, shaking his head in amusement. “You shouldn’t.”

In one powerful thrust, he was inside you, and your eyes rolled back in your head as pleasure surged through your body, overwhelming your senses.

“Fuck!” you cried out, but there was no pain—he seemed to know exactly how to plunge into you.

“Shit… You’re so tight,” Sylus growled, his hips slapping against yours as he took you roughly, driving deep against the surface of his desk. “It would’ve hurt more if I’d taken it slow, sweetie.”

It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to speak, but even if he could, you wouldn’t have heard him. Your mind was consumed with the exquisite fullness of his cock filling you completely.

Your eyes crossed as he continued to thrust in and out, your lips parted in a silent gasp, drool escaping the corner of your mouth and trickling down to the polished surface of his desk.

“Cock-hungry little whore,” he grunted, folding his body over yours to penetrate you even deeper. “And you claim you hate me.”

“I d-do,” you managed to moan, your legs trembling from the intensity of the sensations.

“You hate me, yet your sweet cunt is squeezing my cock like it’s her lover.”

Your mewls and whimpers grew louder with each thrust, your head spinning from the overwhelming pleasure. “Sylus…” you moaned his name, urging him onward toward his own release.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I-I’m… s’close. So so close.” Tears were welling up in your eyes, and Sylus moaned deeply behind you as he felt your cunt squeezing him, clenching around him like he belonged there. Because he did. 

His hand shot up, wrapping around your throat as he kept pounding you from behind, his whole desk shaking from the force of his thrusts. You were sure a bruise would form on your abdomen where it made contact with the wood. 

Your eyes rolled as he applied more pressure, making it difficult for you to breathe. “Such a pretty kitten…” He moaned in your ear. “And now she’s collared. As she should be.”

Your orgasm broke through you with a new force, the tears escaping your eyes and your cries lulling Sylus to fall on his own release right after you.

“Fuck.” He moaned, his teeth clamping down on your shoulder. Rope after rope of cum filled your cunt, his thighs shaking slightly from behind you as he emptied himself inside you. 

You were so overstimulated and sensitive by your encounter when Sylus caught his dripping cum from your thighs and pushed it right back in.

Your legs threatened to give out, your mind clouding the moment he began to fill you with his seed once more. “Such a pretty cunt, used and bred by me,” Sylus murmured, his voice low and possessive. “What will your boss say when my kids are running around his base, huh?”

You weren’t even aware of how or when it happened, but suddenly you were moaning his name, sweet and desperate, as you drenched him once again. This time, the force of your release was blinding, your vision fading to a brilliant white.

Confused, you turned to see Sylus, his abdomen glistening with your essence, his fingers slick and dripping as he stared at you with a manic edge in his eyes.

“Oh my God…” Heat rushed to your cheeks as the realization of what you had just done washed over you. “I’m sorry… Sylus, I’m—”

Before you could finish, his hand pressed firmly against your lower back, forcing you back into position as you tried to shrink away from his gaze. “Kitten…” His voice was taut, barely contained. “We’re not leaving this room until you do this again.”

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time We Went To The County Fair”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: pure fluff, frenemies dynamic, emetophobics be cautious (no one actually gets sick it’s just mentioned), Sukuna is trying so hard to be nice

Word Count: 2.89k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna always tries to give off the vibe that he’s too big and bad for anything. Everything is beneath him, everyone is merely a nuisance, and this Ferris wheel in particular is just too bland and boring for his tastes.

He acts like you held a gun to his head and forced him to come with you to the fair, but you really didn’t; if anything he forced you to let him tag along. You just happened to see a flyer in the mailbox and brought up that you were planning to go and he could tag along if he wanted to, the last thing you expected was for him to immediately start lacing up his boots and stuff his wallet into the pocket of his ripped black jeans, asking you a nonchalant “You ready?” not even a minute after you suggested it.

And now here you are, a decent train ride later and you’re at the top of the Ferris wheel sitting across from each other, looking down at the colorful lights of food stalls and amusement rides below you. You wanted to go on the Ferris wheel first since the sun is beginning to set, the sky turning shades of pink and orange as a gentle breeze chills the evening air.

Sukuna’s gruff and uninterested voice breaks the peaceful silence, “You could’ve looked out the window at home for free.”

You’re scooted to the edge of your little cart, elbows perched on the rusty metal railing and your cheek rested on your palm, looking longingly between the colorful lights of the roller coasters down below and the changing hues of the sky, “The view’s not this pretty at home.”

All he can respond with is a hum, his arms stretched out across the railing behind him as he leans his back against the hard metal wall of the gently swinging cart. From the corner of your eye you’d swear you could see him watching you, but when you shift your gaze towards him his head has already turned to look down towards the carnival beneath you.

He outstretches his arm and points toward one of the rides, colorful lights spotted around the outside of its spaceship style design begin to transform into streams of light as the ride starts to spin and twirl around, “We’re doing that one next, too fuckin’ boring just sitting around.”

You turn your body towards him and give him a sarcastic grin, “What if all the spinning makes me sick?”

He scoffs, gently kicking your leg across from him with his combat boot, “If you throw up I’m pretending that I don’t know you.”

“Boo.” You roll your eyes at him and look back towards the fair as the Ferris wheel begins to spin. You reach your arm out of the cart and point at a ride in the distance, a large boat shaped contraption swinging back and forth before turning completely upside down, the passengers' screams echoing through the open air, “Would you go on that one?”

He gives you a sly grin, “Only if you go on it too, you didn't drag me along just to watch, did you?”

“I didn’t drag you here, you might as well have begged to come with me.”

“Oh fuckin’ please,” He leans towards you, propping his elbows on his knees and looking up at you, “You gave me those ‘lil puppy dog eyes when you showed me the flyer.” He mimics a dramatic pout, making you groan and press your sneaker onto his chest to push him away.

“You’re unbearable.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The metal steps creak below both of your feet as you and Sukuna step into the spaceship ride; the walls are round and covered in separate metal panels for each person to stand with their back against, and in the middle of the ride there’s a booth for the operator with large buttons and levers. You and Sukuna find two open panels on the wall and stand in front of them as the doors to the ride slide shut, leaving you both and everyone else blocked off from the festivities going on outside.

The operator looks bored as they flip a switch above their head, the lights dying off before you hear the clicking sound of buttons being pushed, rainbow lights streaming along the ceiling in swirling patterns above your head. Blaring loud techno music starts to blast from massive speakers in the operator’s booth as you feel your balance start to waver. Within seconds everyone’s backs are slammed into the wall, fits of giggles and startled screams surrounding you in the ride.

You turn your head to look at Sukuna and he’s already grinning at you, he tries to yell something to you but the music is far too loud to hear him. You open your mouth to yell “What?!” but instead a yelp is ripped from your chest as your entire body slides up the wall. He points up towards you and laughs, you try to kick him in the shoulder but the pressure of the ride spinning is keeping you effectively plastered to the wall, hardly able to move at all.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is somehow barely affected by it; deciding that it’s time to show off as he plants his palms onto the wall behind him and bends his knees to be completely off the ground. He stumbles back slightly on his first attempt to push himself up, but by the second try he’s crouching completely upright on the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You scream out to him, but he can hardly hear you over the loud music and playful screams of everyone on the ride.

He’s got a massive grin plastered on his face as he stands to his full height so casually, as if the pressure of gravity just doesn’t affect him, taking a broad step over your stiff body to stand with his large combat boots on either side of your hips. He takes a knee over you, wrapping one of his hands around the back of your neck and the other behind the small of your back, leaning forward and yelling into your ear.

“You’re coming with me.”

It feels like you’re going to fly back into the wall as he pulls you into his arms, his strong grip keeping your body flush against his as you try to raise your arms enough to wrap them around his neck.

“You’re insane! Put me down!”

You can feel his breathy laughter on the crook of your neck as he lifts you up to stand with him on the wall, his hands never loosening their protective grip on you even as your feet plant themselves on the wall. He’s holding you so close, you’re not sure if your head is spinning more from him or the carnival ride. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, your head pressed flush against his broad chest and tilted up towards the flickering lights adorning the ceiling.

“Not so bad, see?” You can hear the grin in his voice, his lips brushing against your ear while he speaks to you, “Not gonna drop you, calm down.”

Can he feel how fast my heart is beating?

The pressure in your head starts to feel relieved, but at the cost of your balance as you stumble forward. Sukuna completely wraps his arm around your waist and lifts you off your feet, taking long strides backwards off the wall and back onto the floor as the ride slows to a gradual stop.

“Hey!” The operator is screaming over the music as the large doors slide back open, “You two! Off!”

Sukuna chuckles into your ear as he drops you onto your feet, “Oops.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“I can’t take you anywhere-“

“Ugh, how was I supposed to know that guy would be such a pussy?”

“Sukuna!” You slap his arm, “You’re gonna get us kicked out!”

He just huffs and rolls his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as you both walk side by side through the fair. You knew he was nothing but trouble, and you feel a little stupid for assuming he wouldn’t drag you down into his bullshit with him, but you’re stuck with him now; at least until your lease is up. Maybe you shouldn’t invite him out with you anywhere after this, but when you glance up at his stupid grumpy expression you get butterflies.

With a face like that it’s no wonder he gets away with anything.

He’s so… annoying. That’s what you like to tell yourself; it’s annoying that you can’t stay mad at him, that he gives you that smirk that makes your heart race, that he held you like that on the carnival ride. He drives you insane in all the best and worst ways, either waking you up in the middle of the night by being loud and obnoxious coming home drunk from a concert, or making you go crazy wishing he was home with you while he was out with his friends.

“Are you even fuckin’ listening?” He snaps you out of your trance.

“No.” You huff, breaking your gaze from his. Did you doze off while staring at him?

“Brat,” He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you towards a pop up stall, the stall walls lined with balloons and stuffed animals, “You beat me in this and I’ll… behave for the next one.”

You scoff at him, “No you won’t.”

A small smile creeps onto the corners of his lips, “… Yeah you’re right.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, but he sidesteps in front of you, leaning down to match your height, “Tell you what, let’s make a bet.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

He smirks, “Winner picks out a tattoo for the loser.”

You laugh right in his face, “Absolutely fucking not!”

“What?” He gives you an exaggerated pout, “You don’t trust me?”

You cross your arms and glare up at him, “You would make me get some kind of gang tattoo.” You say sarcastically.

He mutters under his breath, “Shit, am I that predictable?”

“Sukuna!” You kick him in the shin.

“Fine, fine. Piercing.”

You look over at the plastic machine guns mounted onto the edge of the stall, noting a toppled over “out of order” sign next to the red gun. Maybe it’s a bad idea to humor him, but you know damn well he’d pick that red gun over the baby pink ones surrounding it, you might be able to play dirty if he hasn’t noticed the sign that fell over.

A grin paints your lips as you look back at him, “You’re on.”

His head cocks to the side slightly, “Really?” He looks genuinely surprised, but definitely not disappointed, “Shit, that was easy.”

He strides over to the stall, planting himself right in front of the red gun, exactly where you want him. You suppress your smile as much as you can as you walk up beside him, wrapping your finger around the trigger of the pink gun next to him. He’s looking down at you so cocky as the game attendant counts down for you both to start.

“Three!”

“You know…” He leans down towards you to speak into your ear.

“Two!”

“I know a guy who does eyelid piercings.” He states smugly.

“One!”

Like clockwork, you start peppering through the balloons while his gun immediately jams.

His brows furrow in frustration and you look towards him, giving him a mischievous smirk, “You’ll have to give me his number.”

As the game comes to a fast end, you learn that Sukuna is such a sore loser, grumbling about how that was “fucking rigged” and that you’re “a dirty little cheater,” but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried. You doubt he’ll hold up his end of the bet, and you’re not really that concerned about it to be honest, that frustrated look on his face is more than enough of a prize.

“Yeah yeah,” You giggle, “I’m just the worst huh? I’m gonna run to the bathroom, how about you win me something while I’m gone?”

He shoots a glare down at you, “No promises.”

“Oh yeah, because you fucking suck at these games, right?” Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth in a futile attempt to keep a straight face, you just can’t help but smile, it’s a nice change of pace for you to be the one getting on his nerves for once.

“Such a fuckin’ brat.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Something about Sukuna is suspicious when you meet him back at the games. His grin has returned once again and he’s holding one of his hands behind his back. His eyes light up when they catch yours, taking long strides to meet with you.

He leans down to be eye level with you, keeping his hand tucked away behind him, “Close your eyes.”

“You didn’t…” You look up to his eyes but his gaze flickers away from you.

“Shut up. Close your eyes and give me your hand.”

You let out a sigh, shutting your eyes and holding your hand out in front of you. Your brows furrow in confusion as something cold and squishy lands in your palm, “What the fuck…?”

“You know how you said you wanted a pet?”

You open your eyes and are greeted with… a goldfish. A little tied off plastic baggie dripping condensation onto your skin as the tiny fish swims in panicked circles, “Sukuna!”

“What?” He stands up straight, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I thought you’d like it.”

“When I said I wanted a pet I meant, like, a dog!”

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, “Well you won’t let me get a cane corso, so-“

“Because they’re a hundred and fifty pounds.” You mutter over him.

“Say hello to Brat Junior.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

He’s definitely not kidding if the grin on his face is saying anything, he takes a step forward and pokes the bag, watching the fish squirm inside, “He’s got your attitude.”

“Oh my god,” You rub your temple with your free hand, “We need to go get a fish tank.”

“We’ve got bowls at the house.”

“No! We are not mistreating this fish, asshole.”

“Don’t call him fish, he has a name.” He declares sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest.

You mutter curses under your breath, “Brat Junior needs a tank. A real tank, with a filter.” You pull Sukuna by the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him along behind you, “There’s a pet store around the corner, let’s go before they close. And you’re paying.”

“Hey, why am I paying for this shit? It’s your pet.”

“It was your stupid idea!”

You both leave the loud chaos of the fair, walking along the quiet sidewalks to the pet store. The skies have gone dark now, the moon making itself at home above you as you cradle your beloved Brat Junior in both of your palms, trying to keep the water in his bag from swaying too much.

You and Sukuna bicker the whole walk there until you make it to the sliding glass doors of the pet store, quiet music playing through the speakers as you walk across the shiny white floors to the fish section. You both split up so he can pick up a tank while you sort through food, but shortly after he walked away he’s already making his way back to you.

“We’re gonna have to flush Brat Junior.” He says plainly.

You defensively clutch the fish close to your chest, “Absolutely not!”

He rests his elbow on one of the shelves lining the wall, leaning his side against it, “Then you’re paying for half of the fish tank.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, “You broke now?”

“Lady at the counter said he’ll get,” He straightens his fingers on each hand, placing them together like a prayer before parting them about a foot away from each other, “This big.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I wish I was joking, the tank is $600.”

You blow a raspberry, slumping your back against the wall and looking down at the goldfish in your palms. You’re silent for a moment, but then you let out a reluctant sigh, “I’ll pay half, but you’re carrying it on the train ride home.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You hold your apartment door open, watching Sukuna maneuver the giant 40 gallon fish tank through the small doorway, “Got it?”

He grunts in annoyance, “A little help would be nice.”

“Ooh, about that,” You hold the little plastic baggie up in your palm, “My hands are full with the baby.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, carrying the fish tank into the tiny apartment, “Should’ve fuckin’ flushed him.”

You let out a mock gasp, cupping the goldfish in both of your hands and holding it up to your face, cooing at it, “Did you hear that? Your father doesn’t love you.”

Sukuna placed the tank onto a long empty table against the wall before flopping on his back onto the couch. His eyes flicker between you and the fish for a moment, a faint smile creeping onto his lips.

“I knew you’d like that little fucker.”

A/N: Fun fact did u know that those fair fish grow to be 12 inches long? Unfortunately this fic is based on true events of when my boyfriend and I won TWO OF THEM at the fair and had to spend $600 on a fish tank for them (rip my wallet). Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[the-wayside]

Um, yeah so the hinges are slightly back on.

[lunar-system]

Edward Teach: The Star.

Adapted from the traditional Ride-Waite-Smith tarot, this version of the Star shows Ed kneeling down serenely by the spring of life, bare to the world, ready to heal after tumultuous events.

Stede as the Sun to follow, Izzy as the Moon can be found here.

Longer exploration of the card's symbolism under the cut.

***

The Star: Hope, openness, especially after a crisis. Renewal, healing, restoration.

Rachel Pollack writes: "This is the calm after a great change, whether it comes after a drastic planetary shift or a personal upheaval. There are still difficult times ahead, but the Star tells us to trust."

In the card Ed is depicted with a short, growing beard. Multiple personal upheavals and great changes have already happened, and he is settling into a new reality. Who is he when he is stripped from titles, uniforms and roles? In the space of the Star, he has enough trust to try and find out.

Pollack continues: "In Star, we find our inner strength and belief. The Star teaches us to accept whatever it is, to drop all our shields, to believe. The water poured out signifies healing, emotional and physical."

Ed as the Star is learning to shine his own light after witnessing Stede shine as the Sun. Trust and belief don't come easy, but as the Star he can be vulnerable enough to try again. The water flows from an infinite source, letting the emotions come and go.

Even though the Star opens up towards a bright future, Ed carries his history with him. His tattoos, pictures from other tarot cards, tell about his past:

Chest: Three of Swords, the infamous card of heartbreak. "Trust no one."

Left side thigh: the face of the Devil from the Devil card. One of the largest tattoos he has, projecting his self-image. "I'm the devil."

Right side thigh: Lobster from the Moon card, a beast that lurks under the surface, in the unconscious. "I'm the Kraken."

Right side: wolf from the Moon card. In my depiction of the Moon, Izzy stands for the wolf. Here the loyal wolf is cast to the side, left howling after the broken heart.

Belly: Ram from the throne of the Emperor, a symbol of masculine power. The placement on the lower belly suggest a trans reading of the character.

Chest, around the heart: birds from Ace of Cups, suggesting new beginnings even for a broken heart.

With his past carved to his skin, Ed is kneeling at the edge of land. One of his feet is planted firmly on the ground while the other graces the water. In Tarot, earth is often connected to the material, such as the body, and the conscious mind. Water is the element of emotions and the subconscious. At the edge of the water, Ed is in balance, grounded both in his body and in his emotions, the conscious and the subconscious. The water he pours rejuvenates them both.

TL;DR: After great personal upheavals, Ed as the Star is ready to heal and trust. He carries his past with him, but is ready to shine his own light and have faith in himself and for the future. He is vulnerable and at peace, and he is connected both to the ground and the water, nourishing them both with the water he pours.

***

Sources

Image source: Pamela Colman Smith, 1909, republished as Tarot of A. E. Waite, 2016, AGM-Urania, Germany

Text source: Rachel Pollack, A Journey of 78 Steps, 2011, as cited in the booklet for instruction and guidance of Tarot of A. E. Waite, 2016, AGM-Urania, Germany

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

famous last words, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader, very brief mention of namjoon x reader

summary: Words that should be written in your obituary but probably won't be: “How the fuck did I get myself in this situation?” Clever, right? No? Neither is fucking a stranger who bursts into tears within the first ten minutes of meeting each other. Ah. Well. Guess those will be your famous last words.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; what should be a simple task ends with fucking no one saw that coming, hehe, get it?; mentions of infidelity / recent break-up / JK crying Q_Q; angst + comfort; smut (fem reader, dom!reader x sub!JK, nipple play, scratching, hair-pulling kink, cock-and-ball torture (dick slapping, ball slapping / squeezing, etc), m-receiving oral, handjob, spit kink, edging / orgasm denial, 69); non-idol!AU, ft next-door neighbor!Kim Namjoon

--

Somebody much wiser than you once said, don’t speak into existence the truth, for it will inevitably prove you right sooner rather than later, or something equally as pompous-sounding, but clearly you never got the memo as you rotted away on your sofa, staring at the red bubble of your unread messages, muttering under your breath, “Surely not every social interaction I have will end in sex,” and yet you still did not open the application. You were saying this to absolutely no one, by the way. You were the only occupant in your apartment.

Some would say by choice.

You would agree wholeheartedly.

What?

Before you could get on that mental hamster wheel, your phone started vibrating in your hand. For a split second, you debated on not answering it, however, the caller was listed under his full name in your phone. That meant it was either your boss or someone of equal importance. Or someone who would not be calling unless it was rather serious. Thus, with a sigh, you pressed the green button to accept the call with a bland, noncommittal, “Hello?”

Depending on the nature of the call, you would decide on how currently busy you were.

“Ah, hello! I’m so sorry to be calling right now,” came the slightly frantic and strangely relieved voice of Kim Namjoon, you next-door neighbor. He fumbled with the words and asked if it was, in fact, you, to which you confirmed, “Unfortunately, still alive and kicking.” This made him laugh for some reason. Perhaps it was your dry delivery. Or because he was nervous, which was a hilarious thought, as Namjoon was over one-hundred eighty centimeters tall with imposing broad shoulders and the chest of an ox. He had said something before about how he used physical exercise as a coping mechanism. For what? Impeding existential crisis from being highly educated? A question of another time.

You snapped out of your sidetracking as Namjoon said, “I was going to text you but then I remembered you said if it was important to call instead.”

You recalled the angry red bubble of unread messages. “Yes, the call was the right move,” you agreed. “Is something wrong? Have you locked yourself out of your apartment again?”

Indeed, there was a reason you had Kim Namjoon’s number. Because despite his towering frame and heavy canvas bags full of self-help books, you had previously found him sitting outside his apartment, looking like a dejected puppy, said canvas bags tucked around him, his pockets inside-out. At first, you weren’t going to ask – quite frankly you weren’t about the people-person life – but it would be a bit weird to just ignore the giant dejected puppy slouched against the unit next to yours. So, you inwardly sighed and walked up to him, asking why he was camping out at his front door.

He had locked himself out.

You nearly facepalmed. This late at night? Of course, the leasing office wasn’t open at this hour. Security didn’t have keys to the tenants’ apartments for safety reasons. You had debated on leaving him there, but it was too late, you had already asked what was wrong and now Kim Namjoon was doing that polite thing of saying he didn’t want to be any trouble, that he would be fine, and before you could remember to be rude, you had invited a stranger into your apartment to rot on your sofa, at least until the next morning when someone could let him into his apartment. Foolishly brave on your part. He could have been a serial killer. Could have bludgeoned you to death with those bags of books, which, considering the current trajectory of the world…

Never mind.

In any case, you didn’t feel threatened. Namjoon had those soulful eyes and double cheek dimples when he smiled, so the probability of homicidal psychosis was pretty low. And you were right. He was just forgetful. How he stayed alive this long was beyond you. Namjoon was the most incapable capable person you had ever met. He was a whiz with public transportation, bus and train. Had a bicycle when he needed it. He didn’t own a car for the good of the people (his words). The second time he had locked himself out, you had joked to Namjoon that he fuckin’ owed you. The third time, you had forced him to make you an extra key and gave him your number so he could call you to let him into his own apartment. He had felt like he owed you and, even though you told him that it would be more than enough if he simply learned to remember his damn apartment key for once, he had taken you out to dinner to make up for it, which surely explained how you ended up in bed with him the next morning.

Listen.

It wasn’t that serious. Really. There was nothing brewing here except wine-induced impulse and a why-the-fuck-not attitude. But all that might explain the awkward laughing. Not because anyone was harboring any secret feelings, just mostly because he was about to ask you for a weirder favor. Sucking his dick again would probably be a more expected ask than what he was about to say next.

“Ahaha, no, um…”

You could hear loud thump-thump noises on the other side of the line. No, not familiar thump-thump noises. You frowned. Was that the boom-boom of bass?

“Actually, I’m by the coast right now. I’m at a welcome party for a wedding of one of my closest friends. Er, what I mean to say is that I’m not close to my apartment right now,” Namjoon rambled, making you stretch your ears to understand. “I’m a couple hours away by train, it’s late, I thought about maybe trying to make it to and back, but I–”

“With all due respect,” you interrupted, realizing he was tipsy, over-polite, and overexplaining. “Can you tell me what you need me to do?”

“Ah, sorry, sorry,” his deep voice quickly apologized. “Could you open the door for my friend when he drops by?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Sure, I guess.”

Before you could ask what said friend looked like, Namjoon let out a whoosh of relief. “Oh, thank you. Thanks a lot. Um, if you could…? Please be nice to him.”

“Have you known me to be a rude person?” you inquired impassively.

He glossed over your question like a champ. “It’s… Complicated. He found out tonight his longtime girlfriend was cheating on him. I wish I could be there. He might not seem like it, but I know he’s very emotional right now. I told him to crash at my place, but if something seems amiss, please let me know, okay? I’m worried about him. I thought about going back, but I’m in the wedding party and…”

Despite everything within you being completely and utterly disinterested in babysitting a grown man with hurt feelings and probably a temporary poor perspective of women, your mouth was saying, “I’ll take care of it, Namjoon. And I will call you if I think it is necessary. You know I won’t let anything get out of hand. What’s his name? What does he look like?”

Twenty minutes later of you standing in Kim Namjoon’s beige apartment inspecting his rather impressive bonsai collection – something you had sadly missed the last time you were here as the living room was not the focus of the night – you heard the panicked smashing of the doorbell, indicating your visitor. You put a little more perk in your step and hurried to the door, opening it to the blubbering mess that was Jeon Jungkook.

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

From your side, you were looking at a rather disheveled man with wide bloodshot eyes, puffy cheeks, and windswept ear-length black hair clutching two big silver suitcases and a huge black duffel bag that looked like he had stuffed every skeleton of his closet into it. He was wearing a big white t-shirt with a big wet spot down the collar, torn-up slate blue jeans that appeared to have come that way, and untied white sneakers that had seen the streets of Seoul way too many times. As Namjoon had informed you earlier, his right arm was covered in dark and colorful tattoos, all the way to his hand, including a crown on his index finger. His big, dark brown eyes were pools of hurt and sadness that quickly twisted into confusion as he saw you. You suddenly realized how this looked to him. From his side, the door of one his best male friends had opened to a woman wearing flared black pajama shorts and a loose white tank top with a single red chili pepper embroidered in the center of the chest.

Which could mean a lot of things.

Or nothing.

“Jeon Jungkook?” you asked as a greeting.

“Uh… Y-Yeah…”

His voice cracked and he shook like a shaken leaf in the last days of autumn.

You waved him in. “Namjoon-ah let me know to expect you. Come in.”

He hesitated. Reasonably so. His ears were red, maybe from running, but a deep flush was developing on his cheeks. You could tell he was feeling somewhat embarrassed about it all. He had a youth about him, both in naïveté and in the anxiety of being ashamed at his emotional state. You softened. You didn’t comment on it. Instead, you said, “I’ll make you some tea. The bathroom is around the corner if you would like to freshen up. Don’t stand out here.”

There was a flash of defiance in his gaze, but it died when you didn’t react in a hostile manner. You simply moved out of the way, holding the door open for him. After an awkward shuffle and dance, Jeon Jungkook and his excessive amount of luggage was in the apartment. You closed the front door behind him, locking it.

“Did…”

His voice cracked. Distraught, he looked away and you politely stared vacantly in the other direction. A little part of you had wondered if Namjoon had put you in an unsafe situation – after all, you knew him but not his friends – yet upon seeing Jungkook, you were getting domestic pet vibes again. Puppy, or perhaps the big-eyed, trembling upper lip expression was giving bunny. He didn’t seem dangerous. Maybe you were being too trusting. Eh. Only one way to found out.

“Did Namjoon-hyung tell you…?”

Your eyes flickered to him. He was staring down at the floor. Damn. You could tell he was trying to put on a brave front as if his face wasn’t splotchy and his t-shirt wasn’t soaked in tears, but it was weak. Broken. He might be a stranger, but his current state was familiar enough to anyone who had experienced crushing disappointment. That was a lot of people, including you.

“That you were staying a while? Yup. Although he didn’t tell me where the spare towels were,” you added distractedly, crossing your arms. “He just told me you could use anything. But now that I think about it, you wouldn’t want to use his bath towel, no matter how close you two are. Hmmmm. I’ll go looking while you get settled then.”

“Are you… his girlfriend?”

You stiffened. You glanced at Jungkook, who was giving you a scrutinizing and halfway-jealous glare. You grimaced, shaking your head.

“No, I’m not. I’m the next-door neighbor. Which, contrary to what bad porn storylines might lead you to believe, does not equate to relationship material. Just a convenient person to ask to keep your spare house key when you constantly forget it,” you lightheartedly replied. “Which is a lot of the time, when you’re Kim Namjoon.”

Jungkook relaxed a bit, but he was still giving you that guarded expression. You realized he must have noticed that you were using rather familiar terms for Namjoon, which was the natural progression after the whole getting naked and sixty-nine-ing incident that he was very likely unaware of. Uh. You sort of hoped he would accept the neighbor explanation, because there was truly not much more to it. You probably wouldn’t have even done it if Namjoon hadn’t spoken so miserably about his last breakup, how he had felt so unloved and like he never mattered, and maybe you had been trying to convince him he did matter, even if only for a fleeting moment, which said a lot about your preferred coping mechanism versus his.

But.

Anyway. Haha. This wasn’t going to become a pattern. Surely.

Ahem.

“I’m sorry…”

You blinked. “Pardon?”

The not-so-strange stranger clutched his duffel bag, fidgeting, his face scrunching up, unable to look directly at you. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” Jungkook shuddered, tensing up. His shaking voice struggled to hold itself together. “I… It’s late… I couldn’t… I drove, my parents live in Busan, dunno if I could… I didn’t want to trouble… I’m so worthless…”

“You drove in this state?” you cut in sharply. You snapped your jaw shut, not wanting to scold him. His face looked stricken. Well, you’d been called heartless before, but you didn’t claim the title yourself. You calmed your tone. “Hey, I’m not here to judge you. Look, you don’t have to tell me anything. This is a safe place. I’m just here to prepare you a cup of hot tea. Maybe heat up some hotteok if I can find any in the freezer. Or I can leave you alone, right now, if you promise not to do anything stupid before your friend comes back.”

For a moment, Jungkook didn’t say anything. He was taller, bigger, more muscular than you, but he seemed small right now. The world stilled.

“Be honest… Do I seem like a pathetic man?” he asked in a broken whisper.

You looked at his frail form and answered rather confidently.

“Do pathetic men have the self-awareness to call themselves pathetic?”

Those big bloodshot eyes rose to meet your wry smile.

“Just be sad in peace. Emotions are not an attack on your masculinity.”

You spotted the flash of defiance once again. “What would you know?” Jungkook snapped. Then you could tell he instantly regretted it, shrinking back slightly. He didn’t apologize though. You waited. Minutes passed. The timing became awkward. His eyes shifted, lips quivering, trying to get the words out. You thought about forcing it out of him, but you let him have this one.

“I’m not against you,” you reminded him quietly.

“S… Sorry,” he mumbled, staring at the floor. “It’s… My girlfriend… um, ex… ex-girlfriend. Cheated on me.”

You could tell it hurt him to even say it out loud. His voice was thick and on the brink of tears.

“I… I was going to ask her to…”

He fell apart before your eyes.

“…To m-marry me.”

Jungkook sank to the floor and cried.

You didn’t know what to do.

Well, you did know what to do. It was a matter of whether or not to do it. You had only known Jeon Jungkook for less than ten minutes after all. You hadn’t even known he existed until barely thirty minutes ago. And you didn’t know if he wanted to be consoled by an almost stranger, as he had been holding back this entire time, albeit poorly and without experienced restraint, but who could blame him, his world as he had known it had fallen apart less than an hour ago.

Yeah.

His world as he had known it had fallen apart less than an hour ago.

It was entirely possible that Jungkook would recoil from you, and validly so. You knelt anyway, not yet saying anything. It was pointless to tell him not to cry, for he was already crying. Hell, you would cry too if your innocence was still intact. Deep down, you were glad that he was. It showed that he still believed enough to shed tears over a moment called love. Besides, sadness was better than misplaced anger.

You reached towards him and experimentally placed your hand on his shoulder.

What should have felt solid felt so very breakable under your palm.

“You don’t have to say any more,” you reminded him quietly.

His face was buried in his duffel bag, covered by his arms. A sob ravaged his entire body, possessing him with emotion. Frustration and sadness and regret and shame and self-blame, maybe warranted, maybe not. He was saying something, wetly, something about being not enough, not deserving, unable to make anyone stay. It was a jumbled, anguished mess. You didn’t refute any of his cries, because they were more for him than they were for you to respond to, and because you weren’t even sure he meant to be this vulnerable. You were sure that, at some point in the future, he would no longer relate to any of the statements he was declaring now, but he just didn’t know and couldn’t believe that yet so there was no point in saying it now.

You weren’t good at this kind of stuff, but you simply said what you told yourself when you were in a similar low point.

“These might be your consequences, but these consequences don’t have to define who you are.”

It was several more minutes of sniffing and clutching his duffel bag. You could tell the tears were subsiding though. It could have been what you said. Or it could have been him remembering you were there next to him. A woman he didn’t know was witnessing his breakdown. You almost pulled your hand away, but you sensed a ripple of discomfort in his demeanor, as if to ask, are you ashamed of me? The thought stayed in your mind. You shifted your hand and gently rubbed his upper back.

“Why don’t you take a shower?” you suggested softly, not leaning too close but close enough to be there as a physical presence. “Get into some fresh clothes. I’ll find a towel for you. Take your time. If you still want that cup of tea, I’ll be here to get that ready too.”

It was not your nature to give s single shit about a stranger.

It didn’t seem to be Jeon Jungkook’s nature to accept help either, and yet you felt those strong shoulders slump under your palm, giving up.

“O… Okay….”

-

You rapped your knuckle against the bathroom door.

“Hey, I’m going to put the towel by the sink and leave,” you called, hopefully loud enough to be heard over the falling water. “Take your ti–”

Everything happened very quickly.

You turned the knob with one hand as the other was holding the fluffy white bath towel you had found in the linen closet. Steam poured from the crack through the door, and you felt the heat before you felt the dampness of it. You heard the water shut off. You froze. And then, all of a sudden, the door was yanked open from the other side, revealing a dripping, wide-eyed, unquestionably naked Jeon Jungkook.

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

Was it something about doors or was it something about your poor timing? Perhaps he hadn’t heard you. You were looking up, at his face, by instinct. Droplets clung to his cheekbone and jaw. His black hair was flat against his head and did absolutely nothing in blocking those big dark brown pools of shock who really should not be shocked since he had opened the door on you. Unless he hadn’t known. But then why would he open the door trailing water everywhere butt-ass-naked knowing full well a stranger was somewhere on the other side?

Your eyes narrowed.

His ears were turning red.

The more you looked at his expression, the less you felt that he was inclined to move, hide himself, or literally anything else that would obviously provide the perception that he didn’t orchestrate this moment to some extent. Which is a lot of words to say – he had known you were there. He had opened the door on purpose. As this epiphany dawned on you, you saw his eyes dart. Flutter. He might have known but he hadn’t planned much else after that. You wondered what kind of reaction he had been trying to illicit by this, but the more time that elapsed and the more you thought about it, the more you understood that he was trying to do something reckless on purpose or worse.

Which would make you unintentional – or intentional – collateral to his current skewed judgement.

You didn’t like that.

You unfurled the towel and held it up lengthwise, pinching it by the two upper corners and continued directly staring into Jungkook’s face. With this action, he clearly caught on that you were catching on.

You saw him hold his breath.

You did not look down.

Oh, there were definitely things to look at. Even the hint of his defined shoulders and the toned upper half of his pecs was enough to give anyone a reason to look. But you didn’t, because that was basically the same as taking advantage of a drunk person. Although you didn’t really have qualms about giving the middle finger to other faux pas, questionable consent wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t thinking straight right now or, rather, you had no reason to believe that he was thinking straight because who the fuck is trying to sex up their friend’s next-door neighbor that they just met? He had just been cheated on.

So.

For revenge?

You pressed the corners of the towel to Jungkook’s wet shoulders and curled your fingers around them, touching his skin.

His inhale caught.

He stared into your eyes.

You dummy bunny, you thought.

His body was warm, and he was trembling. You still didn’t look down. You probably would have seen some things. Or one very obvious tent. In any case, you leaned in, not breaking eye contact. Jungkook seemed to realize that your approach was not giving what he thought he was going to be getting. Strangely, you could see a mixture of relief and disappointment in his expression. As if he was glad that you weren’t that kind of person, but also upset that the mere sight of his bare-and-available body couldn’t break your demeanor, somehow making him less in his own eyes.

This wasn’t your first rodeo, though. You’d seen all this shit before.

Maybe even been on his side of it.

Teenagers, right? No? Oh. Anyway.

He smelled clean. Herbal. A hint of yuzu. You synchronized your breathing to his. He didn’t seem to notice, but the shallowness waned. Dampness seeped to your palms. You felt him relax slightly, realizing you weren’t about to have an angry outburst at his appearance or his choice of, ahem, confrontation.

You stared into his eyes.

“You look better when you’re not crying,” you commented.

Jungkook flushed a little. There was good-naturedness in his awkward laugh though. “Uh… Thanks? I’d… I’d hope so…”

Your face was close to his. He seemed to notice it now. You let him have this suspended moment of heated wonder. You smiled at him.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” you asked.

A borrowed towel hung between his wet, naked body and your dry, clothed one.

His eyes held more life to them than before. “Ah… Yeah. Yes. If… If it’s not too much trouble,” he trailed off, embarrassment creeping into the timbre of his voice. “I don’t know… I dunno if there’s any hotteok.”

You held the edges of the towel. “I’ll look,” you reassured him.

He wasn’t looking away.

Your hair was messy from laying around all evening. You weren’t wearing any makeup because, again, it was evening and you weren’t expecting to leave your home. Your face might have been puffy from the salty soup of your dinner earlier in the night but, then again, there was always a little roundness to your cheeks. But Jungkook was observing your face very closely, and you were starting to think it wasn’t because of your appearance.

Or maybe it was.

You cut into his personal space just a little bit more.

“You need to hold onto the towel,” you advised.

Realization lit his ears bright red. You sensed his hands flying up, splaying over the soft white towel and pinning it to his chest, but you weren’t focused on that. You barely noticed. Instead, you were raising your eyebrows at the sound that came out of him.

Almost.

A whimper?

The moment hung into the air.

He knew you heard. You were still holding onto his shoulders. It wasn’t weird. You caught the look in his eyes. Well. You breathed out silently, backing away so he couldn’t feel the weight of your exhale. You had a task. Right. Your eyes connected for a split second. He saw something in yours that you didn’t conceal fast enough. You turned quickly, walking out of the hallway. Here you were, going out of your way for someone you barely knew. Make the tea, find a snack, get out, you told yourself, creating the mental checklist. He probably wanted to be alone to brood and all that. Yeah.

You made your way to the kitchen. Raised your hand to open the cupboards to begin your search for consumable comfort and noticed you were trembling. You frowned.

You smacked the back of your hand.

The shakes disappeared with the sting.

“For fuck’s sake,” you muttered, and prepared the damn cup of tea.

-

Thankfully, the following encounter with Jeon Jungkook didn’t involve a door and an awkward stare-down. You were beginning to think it was going to become a pattern, but thankfully it was only correlation, not causation.

Instead, now the two of you were awkwardly at Kim Namjoon’s kitchen counter. Him sitting. You standing. He was staring at the cup of tea and two circles of pan-warmed hotteok with tears in his eyes.

Improvement.

You cleaned up after yourself quietly, not wanting to make him more uncomfortable by you watching him eating, but you noticed he wasn’t touching the food or drink. After what seemed like an eternity of gazing into the abyss, he gulped down a lungful of air and closed his eyes. He was wearing a faded black t-shirt and a pair of loose blue plaid cotton pants. His hair was still a little damp. As you washed the frying pan, you saw Jungkook scoot closer to the counter and nibble on the hotteok.

Whew.

He jolted a bit at the temperature of the tea but didn’t complain. You wiped down the counters and busied yourself in making sure everything was how you found it. Acquainting yourself with Namjoon’s kitchen was easier than acknowledging the heaviness in the room right now. Not quite between you and Jungkook, but, well, the circumstances in him being here in the first place.

You turned around, washcloth in hand.

Jungkook turned slightly, reached down, and pulled his hand up.

Your eyes immediately followed the movement, even before your registered the emotion in his eyes.

With a sharp snap, a small jewelry box now sat on the grey granite.

Namjoon’s kitchen was set in a C-shape. The refrigerator and stove on one wall, sink and cabinets on another, and an extension entering the living space that doubled as more countertop area that could accommodate two barstools. You had been a little surprised at how little there was in the kitchen, as there had been no special kitchen gadgets or appliances. Just the basics. Still, it was a small space. So, there you were, boxed in the kitchen, looking down at an emerald velvet jewelry box, and Jungkook was on the other side of the counter, chewing on his sweet snack, and looking down at it with you.

You glanced at him.

Emotionless, he reached over. The snake tattoo on his right wrist was what you fixated on, dark and winding and coiled, and you watched his forearm muscle underneath ripple as he cracked open the box, revealing a ring.

An engagement ring, you guessed.

He sat back, hollow.

You looked down at it.

The focal point was a round, clear stone. It didn’t quite hold the intense, prismatic sparkle of diamond, but it was large. Several carats mounted on a shining yellow gold band. Expensive, yet not extravagant or gaudy. Classic. You searched Jungkook’s body language to see if he wanted some type of reaction out of you, but he simply looked deflated. Out of it. Chewing and swallowing and taking another bite until all of the hotteok was gone. He drank the tea as the engagement ring glittered between you and him, now in Namjoon’s apartment, oblivious that it would never grace the hand of its intended owner.

“I hid it in the pocket of the pajama pants I’m wearing now.”

You almost didn’t register that Jungkook was talking because he sounded nearly robotic. Dissociated.

“I didn’t have to worry about her finding it. I always did the laundry. She hated doing laundry.”

You lived alone, so whether or not you hated doing laundry was irrelevant. You still had to do it. Hating it only made the chore worse. Hating doing the dishes was allowed because the dishwasher could do all the hard work for you. Not that any of this mattered. You were trying to mentally distract yourself to avoid interrupting him or forming any opinion.

“I didn’t mind though,” he continued, looking somewhere only he knew. “I like cleaning. I’m good at it.”

You weren’t sure if you liked this version of Jeon Jungkook speaking in complete sentences. His detached tone was becoming disconcerting. He looked somewhere between falling apart at any given moment and hurling the mug in his hand with a torn scream.

“She told me something once. About how my birthstone and her birthstone are the same. Sapphire.” You did the math. September children. Christmas-to-New-Years boinking for their parents. You tried not to grimace so Jungkook wouldn’t notice, although he was rambling to himself and had probably forgotten that you were right there. “I don’t know about that stuff but she showed me and I guess it’s true. I didn’t know they had white sapphires. The jeweler told me they were associated to new beginnings. Perfect for the start of a martial journey, he said. I thought that would be nice, and I could afford a bigger stone too. Girls like that, right? I don’t know. Once I got it, I thought, wow. It would look perfect on her hand. She could show it to all her friends every time she goes out. She loved going out and doing stuff. I stopped going because I felt like I was invading on her special time with friends. Or something. I trusted her, anyway. Right? I should. She…”

His head moved, his dark eyes shifting.

You raised your head, and he breathed out, gazing at you from far away.

“It was my fault,” he said, his voice cracking.

You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t know anything about the situation but I kinda doubt it.”

He looked down. “It must have been. I was too suffocating, she said. Too clingy. Her friends thought I acted too childish. She told me not to care… I could tell she cared. Two years. What was it for?”

You wished you had a good answer for him, if only to ease his misery. The best you could do was continue listening.

“I found out by accident,” Jungkook whispered. Small but enough for you to hear. “She didn’t mind if I touched her phone. She was sleeping, and it kept ringing. I took it to another room and turned off the sound, but someone kept calling. Wouldn’t stop. I knew the guy’s name. I remembered her talking about him before. She had a couple guy friends. She always talked about them just as much as her female friends. I never liked it, but I have to be a grown up about it, right? And then her KaokaoTalk started popping off. She didn’t have an existing thread with the guy. Weird. I didn’t mean to read the messages, but they kept coming one after another, it was just…”

His eyes hollowed again. He was reliving it. Second by second. Minute by minute. Pain clouded his expression. His voice became tight. His hand on the mug clutched hard, knuckles tense.

“He kept warning her he would tell me. Tell everyone. I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t believe it. Then my phone started going off. Screenshot after screenshot. Messages. Photos. Videos. And she was asking him in all of them. Initiating. Begging. Then her phone was going off again, all the other chats she had. Like a fucking bomb went off.” He seethed, dark brows furrowing, jaw tightening. But then a strange look superseded all of the anger, replacing it with emptiness. “And all at once I felt it.”

He raised his head and looked…

Guilty?

“Empty.”

You tilted your head curiously.

“Nothing,” Jungkook repeated, exhaling hard. “Just nothing. I didn’t feel anything for her. How fucking scary is that? Did I even love her at all? One moment I felt anger, betrayal, hatred. And the next, I felt nothing. I wish I could delete it all. Everything. She had moved into my place, but I don’t even want to look at that apartment anymore. I don’t want the furniture. I don’t want to walk down that street. I’ll pay until the lease is up but I just don’t want to be there. I packed my clothes, my game consoles, my equipment, but anything we shared I left because I don’t want to fucking see any of it. She woke up while I was packing. Trying to act all sweet and surprised. I just shoved her phone in her face and let her deal with that. She was yelling at me, saying all kinds of bullshit, trying to take stuff from my hands, and I told her not to fucking touch me and not to fucking speak to me ever again.”

Well.

Shit.

He glanced at you again. Apologetic.

“Sorry. I’m a bad person. I’m sorry you had to help me…”

You blinked at him.

He couldn’t raise his head.

“You sure about that?” you asked the silence.

His eyes shifted but didn’t rise. “What?”

“You sure I don’t help bad people on the regular?”

He lifted his head and frowned at you, searching your face. You didn’t elaborate. Your hands were on the edge of the counter, away from the sparkly trinket at the center, a symbol of something shattered still so pristine, then it was an empty plate, empty cup, and finally Jungkook, his features contorted, trying to understand what you were saying.

Good luck, because you mostly said it to break him out of his self-pity party. Although, all things considered, it wasn’t a lie. How many good people were there on this forsaken planet, truly? Meh.

“Yeah…” he mumbled. “I don’t know anything about you.”

You shrugged and figured that was it.

“So, tell me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

His brow furrowed defiantly. “Yeah. Tell me.” He repeated himself, sharper this time. You made a face at him. He remained stubborn. “I told you about my life. What about yours?”

You weren’t impressed by his delusions. “Uh, unsolicited, by the way. I didn’t ask. You’re the one who started yapping.”

Jungkook blinked at you, startled by your dismissive tone or perhaps your word choice. You folded the washcloth primly and scrutinized him back. He faltered under your gaze, looking down at the empty light blue plate. There were a few tiny crumbs left, but its purpose had already been served.

“R… Right. Sorry.”

A little thought in the back of your mind nagged you. Please be nice to him. Namjoon’s words rang in your ear. You winced, and Jungkook didn’t seem to notice, too busy being ashamed for himself. There was a brief mental tug of war within yourself before you finally said, “I’m not currently dating anyone.”

His form ruffled a bit but it wasn’t much.

You tried not to roll your eyes. “I’ve had a couple of serious boyfriends,” you admitted. “But they didn’t work out for one reason or another. Nothing dramatic. For example, one of them we simply broke up because his parents hated me.”

“Why?” He perked up and was looking at you now.

You twisted your lip. “Because I’m a whore,” you sneered.

Jungkook blinked at you, taken aback.

“Anyway,” you continued, glossing over it. “It’s not for me.”

“What isn’t?”

“Romance.”

“Why?”

You narrowed your eyes and then sighed. What an exchange. “Because what I want is not something other people want.”

“What do you want?” Jungkook followed up, curious, sitting up in his chair now. “What’s different?”

You rubbed the back of your head. “Different…” You mulled over the word. You looked down at the ring between you and him. “What is this ring to you?”

His eyes followed, downcast. “Uh… well… it means I want to be married…?”

“That you want other people to know, hey, that’s my future wife?”

Something flashed over his expression but disappeared just as quickly. “Yeah. I guess.”

The ring shone, its many facets silvery and sparkling.

“Well, I want to have sex,” you professed.

On cue, Jungkook tore his eyes away from the counter to gawk, startled at your forwardness. You made eye contact. Half-smiled. What? He had a cute face.

“Most people have sex because of what sex means. Then there are people like me who have sex because of what sex is.”

He was staring at you like a fish out of water.

“This ring is an example of the things humans do to create an image for others.” Your finger circled around the ring, toying with light and shadow above the shine. “Which is not a bad thing, to want your bond to be acknowledged by others. It can be empowering. But sometimes it’s not. Sometimes it’s something we do to protect ourselves. Something we do to strengthen the walls of the house that is slowly revealed to be made of cards.” You pulled your hand back. Jungkook’s face fell, gradually understanding what you meant. “Me, I don’t care what the outside of the house looks like. Sure, it would be cool for the outside to be perfected just the way I like it, but ultimately I don’t care. I only care about what’s inside. I find most actions connected to the word ‘romance’ are things we do to be acknowledged by others. There is an unnecessary pressure to fit your story into an ideal that other people need to approve of. And I hate that. So, I don’t pursue it.”

There was a pause.

Through a filtered gaze of his messy bangs, Jungkook asked, “What did you mean?”

“About what?”

“About having sex… for what it is.”

That’s what he got out of that? Still, you raised a hand to ask him a question. “Why do you have sex?”

The tips of his cheeks blushed red. “Uh.”

You started ticking down fingers.

“To express your love to your partner. To feel connection with someone else. To do something for someone that, supposing you both agreed, is an act of service you can’t get anywhere else. To make up for your mistakes to them. To show your worth and value to them.”

Your hand a fist.

“To get off.”

Jungkook’s big eyes shifted from your fist to your face. You hadn’t raised or lowered your hand for the last one.

“Selfishness is usually last on the list,” you said, uncurling your hand. “And the first and main reason why people break relationships. So, it’s bad. Supposedly.” You placed your hand on the cool stone. “And maybe I am selfish, which would theoretically put me at the bottom of the list, since I don’t have sex for other people. I have sex for the act itself. To explore the complexity of physical and mental interacting. To satiate my curiosity in that unique type of pleasure and all the things that contribute to it. To me, sex is pure. You cannot hide. You cannot lie. People try to do both, and I find that type of dishonesty exhausting and ugly.”

You looked back to Jungkook to see if he was following. His eyes were glazing over a little bit, but he seemed to understand the general sentiment. That was okay. It would be better not to spend too long on the soapbox.

“Anyway, it never feels like anyone is fully committed to the act. They are trapped in the reasons of what sex means to them. Or their relationship with sex is more deteriorated than they like to admit. The sex sucks. I can taste that it is tainted, and not in a good way.” You cocked your head. “People tend to seek to replicate what they felt before. Or they want something better than what they currently have. The past and future constantly compete with the present. Achieving orgasm has become more important than anything else. In search of meaning, the fundamentals have become an afterthought. I’m not saying love isn’t important, but I can’t accept that sex plays second fiddle to everything else. That sex needs some other reason than itself to be valid. We’ve lost the damn plot, I fear,” you chuckled, giving him a moment to absorb that.

Jungkook frowned. He didn’t look wholly lost though. “So… Romance isn’t for you because, uh.” He paused. “The purity of sex? Or something?”

You half-laughed. “That and because no one wants to put up with my bullshit.”

A beat before a soft, “Oh.”

His pensive face was rather charming. You continued to smile.

“I kinda agree though,” he mumbled.

“Hm?”

Discomfort invaded his thoughtful demeanor. “Uh… Whenever we had sex… It was on her terms. Because she had to give her consent first. Since I wanted it more than her.” He wasn’t looking at you nor speaking that clearly. Still, you stayed attentive. “I’d… uh. I’d get hard and then put it in her and then finish and… yeah. Yeah. That was it.”

You blinked.

And blinked again, more rapidly this time. “Sorry, what?”

Jungkook grimaced, cowering a bit at your tone. “It felt good. And stuff,” he said defensively.

You felt offended for him. “You’re joking.”

He gave you a sidelong glance and sighed. “It wasn’t good. But I figured it wouldn’t be like the pornos.”

“Well, it’s not,” you agreed. “But sex sure as hell isn’t… whatever fuckery you just described.”

His spine was emulating a shrimp at the moment. “Yeah.”

You looked down at the ring.

“You wanted to marry this woman?”

His eyes followed yours. “The parts of it that were good were good.”

You doubted it but you bit that lackluster lure anyway. “Like what?”

Something in his eyes broke. “Like… We watched the same shows. She loved to dance. Had a great smile, loved to laugh… I used to make her laugh all the time.” His lashes lowered. “In the beginning, she’d surprise me by signing us up for random classes around the city. Pottery, painting, cooking, flower arrangement, making traditional Korean alcohol. We learned a lot of stuff together. It was good,” he breathed out, his hands clasped around each other. “And then… One time, she signed us up for some activity but I already had plans. I didn’t want to cancel them. We argued. I remember she was so uncharacteristically angry about it. She was almost never like that. So, I must have been the wrong one, right? She never enrolled us for another class again. We had fun, until…” He trailed off.

Leaving the empty calendar as his constant reminder, you thought. It was a clever tactic. Even now, he was questioning himself. You narrowed your eyes. Poked the bear a bit. “Sounds more like she dragged you around without even asking you first. Did you actually have fun at any of these things?”

His gaze shifted. “I… I did…”

It didn’t even sound like he believed himself.

You sighed, defeated. “A ring wasn’t gonna save that house of cards.”

His eyes went to the almost-engagement ring. You tried to imagine it. Something so alive becoming so catatonic over time. Trying to do everything you could to resurrect what was lost, only to learn it had been alive after all.

Just not with you.

“No. It wouldn’t,” he agreed hollowly.

Silence.

Back to square one.

You reached over and took the plate and mug. Washed them, lathering up with the dish soap, rinsing it off. Dried them, because you were unsure if Namjoon’s dishwasher was a frequently used appliance or a drying rack. It was empty so it was hard to tell. You squeezed out the sponge and set it back into its niche. Placed the dishes back into their respective places. Dried off your hands. Turned around.

Jungkook was still staring at the ring.

“Life only gets harder,” you said softly.

He raised his head, confronting you with a devastating desolation in his eyes. Part of you wanted to lie. Lie, and say it got easier. Lie, and say he would find someone better. Lie, but what would be the point to lie to someone that had already been lied to so deeply, so cruelly, still bleeding from a wound that would become a scar someday? You couldn’t assure anything. You couldn’t lie. It got harder the more you cared. It got harder the more hurt you had time to witness. It got harder as time slipped away. You just had to hope that random chance and a bit of luck was on your side.

“Could I put it on your finger?” Jungkook asked.

You set down the washcloth. The comprehension of his question sank in. “What?”

He reached down.

Wrapped his shaking fingers around the box, and tilted it towards you. The white sapphire glistened, foreign, beautiful, and not yours. Not for your eyes. Not for your hand. Not meaning anything to you, to that relationship, to anything anymore.

It was another shiny thing that had become dull without meaning.

“Could I put this ring on your hand, please?” he pleaded again. “Just once. Just once since… Since I don’t know if I… If I will ever get the chance to do it.”

You wanted to tell him, of course you will. Of course, being that handsome and naïve and innocent and, goddamn, he has such big wistful eyes, fuck, you thought, taking one step. Two. Three. That was all it took. You looked down at the ring. You saw his tattooed fingers fumble a little with the thin band. It was almost comical. You were in your house clothes. Jungkook was in his pajamas. Namjoon’s kitchen counter was not a place for a not-proposal. Your left hand came forward. Your fingers spread out a little, and Jungkook’s left hand gently slid under, lifting your wrist, warm and careful, and your eyes found his.

A complex maze of emotions met you.

You lifted your ring finger.

Jungkook said your name, very quietly. It appeared that he had finally read those tests Namjoon had sent him ages ago. Probably before or after his shower. You nodded, not really knowing what to say. This wasn’t in the life handbook, per se. And the way he said your name, delicately and with such breakability, made you not want to dispute it.

He looked down and slid the engagement ring on your finger.

Stared.

Pulled his hands away, letting out a tense exhale.

The large stone gleamed.

You moved your fingers ever-so-slightly, and the ring flipped, the stone dropping down to the inside of your hand.

Awkward.

“Oh…”

You used your right to adjust it. “It’s… Sorry. It’s slightly too big for my ring finger,” you muttered, trying to jam the gold band down a bit to help. “Welp.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook chuckled and, to your surprise, he sounded almost amused. “I just wanted to see what it would look like on you.”

“It’s very shiny,” you admitted. Namjoon’s previous words gave you another swift kick to the pants. “I mean, it’s nice. It’s a lovely ring. You made a good choice.” You held the band delicately and switched it to your middle finger. It fit perfectly, without moving. “Ah, there we go.” You held your left hand up, palm towards you and showed it off to him. “Now you can see it without it slipping and sliding anywhere.”

You stilled once you saw his expression.

A longing for something no longer possible.

And yet there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

He noticed your focus on him and Jungkook smiled for real, the action not reaching his eyes at all.

“It looks good on you. Pretty hands.”

It was a compliment but he said it with all the joy of one getting their heart ripped from their chest.

A strange surge of protectiveness overcame you.

You had never met Jungkook’s would-be fiancé, but in this moment, if you did, she sure as hell would not want to meet you. You couldn’t keep it in your damn pants, woman? Bitch. You scowled even at the thought. Jungkook was too transfixed on his engagement ring on your middle finger to give a fuck. This whole situation was infuriating. Sure, you were too clinically cynical for a mushy-gushy fairytale but, fuck, couldn’t we bend life’s rules just once for this sucker? You lowered your hands. His eyes followed, dulled in the presence of the sparkle. You moved to take it off.

His gaze snapped to yours.

You stopped.

It was like seeing someone alive and dead at the same time. He seemed to be in the midst of a daydream and a nightmare, thoughts crossed between what could have been and what was lost. You wanted to say something movie-script worthy, something to make it all better, and yet you held back once more, not quite believing in them yourself. The ring seemed unusually heavy now.

“It doesn’t match you though,” Jungkook suddenly muttered.

You looked down at the ring. “No. Not really.”

“White gold would look better.”

He was correct. Maybe he could tell from the small hoops in your ears. “Ah, yeah. I’m more of a white gold girl.”

“You deserve a diamond.”

You scoffed. He caught your eye. For once, you were the one to look away, breaking that contact.

“Hah… No, I don’t.”

Not like you did anything to deserve a diamond. You went to work. Went home, puttered around. Passed out. Sometimes you went out in search of a fuck. Sometimes you traveled a bit to cut through the mundane. But there was no charity work here. For what? To end up like Jungkook? To have your trust broken, shattered by someone you thought would keep it safe? And you couldn’t blame them and take revenge, because the high road had no room for low blows. Supposedly heaven was only for the most righteous, which already excluded you. Might as well live to the bare minimum instead of chasing an ideal knowing you could never be forgiven.

And all that shit.

Somehow your space-out had resulted in you completely losing track of Jungkook. One second, he was sitting in the tan leather barstool in front of you. The next, it was empty. You started, and then turned.

Face-to-face.

Jungkook took your left hand in his right.

Held it.

The conversation had gone on so long that his hair was dry now. A little frizzy from being air-dried. It covered his forehead, but not his eyes. His warmth and yours connected. From palm to palm. Under those big eyes was heavy darkness, hinting at sleepless nights. You paused, unsure of his motive. He seemed to be searching for something.

You caught his wrist.

Jungkook froze in mid-movement, about to lean his head down.

You shook yours.

“Don’t.”

He didn’t advance but also didn’t back off. “… Don’t what?”

You squeezed his wrist. His expression rippled. A sound muted in his throat.

“Don’t do it,” you warned again. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Contemplation flitted over his face. His eyes went from his ring on your middle finger to you. Tense, elongated seconds passed. You could tell Jungkook hadn’t quite expected that answer from you. He had expected the rejection, and yet. There was a mixture of defiance and innocence in his gaze. You could smell his scent under the body wash he had used. Masculine and earthy.

You inhaled deeply.

Don’t, you thought, but this time it was to scold yourself.

“It won’t make you feel better,” you assured him.

He was more focused on your hand gripping his wrist than your words. You did not let go. In fact, you tightened your hold, your fingers pressing into his tattoos, the ring digging into you and into him. His dark eyes raised.

“You sure about that?” he whispered.

Uh oh.

Jungkook reached up with his left hand and brought your joined hands to his body. For a brief suspended moment, the round cut white sapphire cut into his clothed chest, close enough for you to feel the racing beat of his heart. You let go of his wrist, giving way to the pressure, and immediately he turned your hand, placing your palm to fabric.

Grazed your touch over his quivering pecs.

He sucked in a breath, his expression hazing over.

You stared at him.

He stared back, his lips forming your name.

Your right hand shot up and covered his mouth. You were trembling. You seized up immediately, wondering if he noticed, but at this point what did it matter? His left hand was still keeping yours on his body, pressing your fingers to the contours of his muscle. “What… What are you doing?” You sharpened your tone, trying to drag him back into reality. You almost expected a cliché answer at this point, but Jungkook only replied breathlessly, “I don’t know.”

I don’t know.

For someone that had been practically disintegrating before your eyes minutes ago, Jeon Jungkook was feeling very solid right now. But it was obvious what he was doing. Right? You looked into his eyes but couldn’t hold it. He just wanted comfort. He just wanted a feeling more than anything. He just wanted to prove that he was worthy of some kind of intimacy, any kind of intimacy, and he was using you, but it didn’t have to be you, it could be anyone.

You clenched your jaw, curling your fingernails inward.

Jungkook’s low moan cut through your venom.

You raised your head, turning your head to him. It didn’t have to be you. But he was looking at you like that. It doesn’t have to be you, and you kept telling yourself that, you kept thinking that but Jungkook kept looking at you like you could save him, from the first meeting at the front door to the standoff at the door of the bathroom to the gaze over empty dishes and a sparkling stone, save you, shit, I can’t even save myself, and you were still wearing his almost engagement ring for another woman on your middle finger, a big fuck-you to that shattered martial life, and before you knew it there was a collision of your lips to his. Your right hand had shot up, hooking around his head, and you dragged Jungkook down to your level.

Low, because the high road had already fucked him over.

He let out a startled squeak that you swallowed, consumed, devoured, and you stole every breath he took in lips and tongue, clawing your fingers through his hair. Then your mind caught up with your body still electrified with craving, asking yourself if you should stop, but then you noticed Jungkook’s hands were grasping for your upper arms, dragging you to him. There was a brief thought of how this was not the kind of intimacy he had received in a long time, and so perhaps his hunger was justified.

Truthfully, hunger was putting it mildly.

You bit his lower lip and sucked hard, opening your eyes.

Jungkook was looking back, and he was falling.

You released him, your tongue snaking out, and simultaneous shivers sprang forth from the fork in the road. Your nails raked over clothes and skin, drawing out his gasps like droplets during a thunderstorm, and you gleefully drowned in his sound. Your tongue pressed to his throat, teeth soon after, leaving bruises in your wake, dying for that taste of flushed skin. Bodies close but pain even closer, and there was no good reason that this should feel good which was precisely why it felt heavenly.

You dragged your hands up to his head, caged into his hair possessively, feeling the unrelenting trap of the ring still on your bent fingers.

Your right eye and his left locked as your tingling lips moved against his cheek.

“I’m still wearing your ring.”

His hot, heavy breath radiated against your neck.

“The ring,” he corrected.

The rebellion in his eyes gleamed.

The ring.

Your left hand trailed down, onto his chest, turning your nails inward, and you watched him follow it, fixated on the ring, replacing any former thoughts he had of it with right now, with the way you slipped your fingers under the hem of his shirt, deliberately catching it onto the large stone, all those expensive carats brought for someone else and now worn by a deviant, creeping up his torso, pushing away the fabric between his nakedness and your carnal intent.

Your eyes connected.

You licked the side of your lip, slowly smirking. “Your plan was for me to fuck you wearing it?”

His cheeks turned pink at your teasing.

“N-No, I d-didn’t… I…”

Jungkook sucked in a tight breath as the pad of your finger brushed over his nipple. You did it again. He looked embarrassed. You weren’t. You pressed your other hand against his abdomen and felt him tense, exposing muscle that was surely crafted from long hours at the gym. You dug your nails in. He moaned, and you hissed his name like a fond prayer, mesmerized by the way his hair fell over his eyes, his body bowing towards you. You gripped his shirt in one hand, his pants in the other, and pulled them away from his body, up and down respectively, exposing skin and desperation.

He grabbed the sides of his shirt and yanked it up and over his head.

Your tongue touched his chest, sliding upwards.

His head fell back, black hair flaring, dark eyes half-moons of lust, his mouth open and depraved sound escaping, all the way up his throat until you reached his chin, rising to tiptoes, and then Jungkook returned, catching your lips with a persistent kiss, possessed by instinct.

You thrust your tongue into his mouth and felt his hands slide under your tank top, wrapping around your waist. You weren’t wearing a bra. After all, you had originally intended on not spending much time here. That hadn’t worked out. The looseness of the top had prevented you from revealing any obvious shape and until now you hadn’t given it much thought. You felt Jungkook pinch the edges of the fabric and tug back, shaping the white jersey into the soft curve of your breasts and the peaks of your hard nipples. He was looking too, even with your tongue in his mouth.

He let out a muffled, “Fuck…” in between gasps.

You pulled back with a nick of his lower lip. Entranced, he leaned down, his hands pressing into the small of your back, and you bent into it, arching your spine as you felt warm wetness rub against one of your nipples.

You watched him.

He watched you back, circling the tip of his pink tongue around the nub, soaking the fabric and sticking it to your skin. Sucking on it, sending a flare of pleasure up your torso, his palms solidly in the bend of your waist. Your pulse snaked upwards, catching in your throat, reducing all thoughts to white noise, and you lost yourself in the way his tongue moved, licked, trailing from one nipple to the other, saliva soaking through your shirt and clinging to your skin, painting you in clear lust.

You hooked a leg around his hip and you could feel him.

You reached between your bodies and dragged the hem up your chest, baring your breasts to his eyes and searching mouth. Jungkook didn’t need to be asked twice. It was as if everything he had seen, longed for, dreamed of, all that he had repressed and tried to forget burst up to the surface, uninhibited any longer, and the feeling of his eager tongue on your wet, hard nipples was intoxicatingly electric. Your grip dug into his hair, pressing his head into your chest. Heat rising from your bodies, sparks igniting in your blood at his frantic licks, rolling your hips into his growing erection.

There really was very littler separating his hard cock and your dampening pussy.

Your nails raked over his back.

“Harder,” he groaned, clutching your waist so hard that it was impossible to get away.

You growled and delivered.

His eyes rolled back, his eyelids fluttering, and you had a fistful of his hair, pulling hard. You wondered if this was actually his kink or a product of circumstance. The glazed-over look in his eyes and violent twitching of his hardness between your thighs was hinting towards the former, which wasn’t a good thing.

Mostly because being on the other side of masochism was your kink.

Fuck.

You shoved his face into your chest and muffled his desperate moan as you yanked on his hair again, striking your hips into his hard-on, putting more force in it than necessary. He held your waist and grinded into the dip of your upper thigh. You closed your legs around him. The friction was sending him over the edge, even to the point of you being able to hear and feel the squish of drenched fabrics between you and him. Your breathing was rapid, shallow, thinning.

You shoved him off you.

Jungkook had a moment of disoriented breathlessness.

Your shirt flew off, over the counter and somewhere into the living room. You immediately dropped with such speed that he had no time to react when you snagged your fingers over the two waistbands of his pants and underwear, and yanked them down to the floor. Those big eyes widened, but you fixated on his thick, hard cock that sprang out, the tip dark red and angry. Slick with pre-cum. You would smell him. Heady and needy. He had nice balls, you observed. Supple and full.

Not for long.

You slid your right hand up. Covering his balls with your palm, anchoring his shaft between your middle and ring finger. Raised your left hand, and looked up at him.

Jungkook looked back, mouth open, eyes widening.

You slapped his erection.

Hard.

His entire body jolted and his gasp morphed into a strangled moan. You watched flashes of reaction overtake his expression. Shame. Desire. Regret. Then regret at that regret. Then need, want, starvation, his hands curling into fists, his chest rapidly rising and falling, and you took his breath away by smacking the shaft again, hard. His cock snapped back into place instantly, twitching, harder than before. He sucked in a tight breath, shaking his head with his lips whispering, “P… Please…”

You tipped your head back and slapped his dick, the ring on your hand visible every time you smacked it down.

Ecstasy rippled through his body. You could tell Jungkook could see the whisper of the sapphire too, maybe even feel the gold band, and it was turning him on even more. Due to the placement of your other hand, you could keep him still and increase the force, even pressing your palm into his balls to add further pressure. He fell apart in real time, but in pain superimposed with pleasure, each strike a spike to your core, thundering heartbeat roaring in your ears.

You stopped mid-slap.

Jungkook nearly protested.

Until you swallowed his cock.

You felt him swell and shudder at the contact of your tongue and throat closing in around his girth, and you pushed up, swirling wet muscle around him, covering him in saliva, drunk at the taste and fullness trapped between your lips. Up, down, vibrating the low point of your throat before drawing back, grazing your lips around the head, slow-fucking the tip.

You raised your eyes to stare into his face.

He was looking back, in awe and intoxication. He had fallen over a bit, draping you in shadow, his hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, and you sucked lightly, arcing your spine to delight him with the perkiness of your breasts.

“Oh… fuck… O-Oh, god…”

You tilted your head back and took him in deep, circling your tongue around the length before closing in at the back of your mouth and gently stroking the throbbing head with the contraction of your inner muscles. A low groan drifted from his lips, astonished at the precision of your control. You reached up and kneaded his balls, applying even pressure throughout before pulsing tighter. His reaction was immediate, yelping as his eyelids fluttered, letting out a weak and desperate, “A-Again…” You squeezed again, sucking hard in unison. “F-Fuck, again, p-please…”

But you did him one better.

You smacked his balls with the pads of your fingers.

Jungkook threw his head back and bit back an intense moan, his shoulders shaking.

“Holy… w-what…?”

The trick to it was to apply force but immediately cease all movement after contact with skin. His nerves would immediately register the power of the hit while the recoil repercussions would be minimal. His nuts couldn’t handle being a springboard, after all. It took a lot of control, and was easier to do if you angled upwards, as it would prevent your fingernails from getting caught on his balls while also allowing his body to absorb the shock. You didn’t hit him that hard. It was very likely that he didn’t have much experience in this – unless he was smacking his own balls while jacking himself off. Unlikely, though. And this was confirmed by the way he froze up and simply allowed you to choke with dick with your mouth as you smacked his balls. No part of him resisted. He left himself be at your mercy, even asking for more, nonsensical pleas above your head, and you could feel that he was nearing the end, mostly because he was biting hard on his lower lip, his obscene noises even louder despite being stifled in his throat, and so for the very end you switched to keeping his balls in a locked grip, maintaining constant pressure as you focused on his cock, up, down, repeat, over and over, feeling him twitch against your tongue.

His thick cum flooded the back of your mouth.

His head snapped back and Jungkook screamed behind closed lips, orgasming in your punishing mouth in the middle of Namjoon’s kitchen, his pants and underwear at his ankles, his chest beaded with sweat, and his cock jolted again, streaming more down your throat. You swallowed shallowly, and Jungkook’s pitch hitched to pathetic. His right hand flew to his chest and he dug his blunt nails into his skin, scratching down his chest roughly, moaning to the ceiling as your tongue ghosted around his still-hard cock.

You swallowed again.

Jungkook cried out and thrust his hips into your face.

His chin tipped down and you caught his surprised cry, “I… I’m still hard?” As if he wasn’t trying to end your life right here on foreign tile. You grabbed his hips, easing him back a little, then resumed a deliberate, leisurely back-and-forth, watching his every move.

His arm lowered, his dark tattoos glimmering with sweat. Panting. You raised your left hand and spread your fingers along his v-line. Traced his abs with your middle finger, cocking an eyebrow. His eyes chased your actions with wanton fervor. As if he almost forgot you were still wearing the ring, but then remembered once you put it in his vision again. It aroused him. You felt his cock shiver as you touched him. The wrongness of it all turned him on.

A very expensive turn-on, but a rare silver lining of the day.

His gaze shifted to your face, shame clouding his eyes.

You pulled back, resting the head of his cock on the flat of your tongue.

“Tell me you like it,” you ordered, talking around his dick.

“Uh… W-What?”

Your eye-line went from the ring to his face. You pinched your lips around the base of the head, causing him to gasp sharply, before opening your mouth again to speak.

“Tell me you like watching me get you off while wearing the ring.”

His eyes widened.

You slipped your left thumb along the underside of his drenched length and sucked on the head, closing your fingers around the shaft. His breath caught. You pulled your head back, perfected your grip, and started jacking him off.

With that very expensive rock completing the obscene image.

The whine Jungkook made was in between raw shock and intense bliss, gawking at your audacity. Or depravity. Whichever. He was going to need a good jewelry cleaner before selling this ring back, but you wouldn’t mind paying for that. The gold band was slippery with spit and a hint of cum, but you kept your fingers together, preventing the stone from moving, dispersing tight and firm pressure throughout his pulsing hardness, feeling a grin creep onto your lips, relishing in his whimper and panic, betrayed by his body leaning into the punishment.

“I… oh, f-fuck… Fuck…”

You lifted an eyebrow and slowed down just a tad.

“N-No, please...! I… I like it,” he whispered, his normally deep voice strained.

You smacked the front of his balls with the backs of two fingers from your free hand.

Jungkook moaned and crumpled, almost into a ninety-degree bow, clasping the edge of the counter. “A-Ah, g-god… I l-like it…” His eyes swam with desire, ensnaring you in his immoral feelings. “I need it… It’s so fucking hot… You getting me off while wearing the ring I brought for a-another woman…” His voice wavered. He clenched his jaw, tightening his core, giving you more room to continue. “Spit on it. Let me cum on it. Fuck. Fuck, ruin me.”

Your hand was rapidly moving on its own while your lips parted, locked in the twisted passion of this fucked-up context.

“Ruin me.”

Jungkook was staring right at you, an order and a plea in the same breath, his eyes so dark in this shadow that they seemed black. A bolt of sinful pleasure slid down your spine. You gripped his cock, tighter, imprisoning him. Somehow he had become even harder, his rapid pulse against the palm of your hand. You could feel his greed for pain, his appetite for your power, his directed attention locked on you, just you, you and everything you were right now, fighting the burn in your bicep but not stopping, fueled by feral willpower and corrupt adrenaline that was better than any runner’s high.

You smiled, unable to hide your enjoyment any longer.

He saw it, acknowledged it, and shuddered.

“I-I’m gonna cum, oh fuck–!”

You opened your mouth and Jungkook shot onto your tongue. Thick, hot, viscous streaks, the bittersweet taste coating your tongue. Devilishly divine. You pressed the tip to your wet muscle and he whined, forcing his eyes open to watch himself dump his load into your mouth. You rubbed it back and forth, making him flinch all over, and so you subsided in seeing him reach his limit even though his eyes were devouring every second of this wickedness.

You drew back a little.

Closed your knees inward, which lifted up your torso.

And spat onto your hand.

Onto the ring. Coating it in an unholy mixture of cum and saliva over a still glimmering white sapphire and shining yellow gold. Jungkook gasped your name in amazement, speechless at the depravity. You tucked your head back, watching the silky fluids sink in between your fingers, smirking, your skin tingling as you witnessed it.

You looked up at him.

He looked back at you. Jaw slack. Eyes wide. Half-hard in your hand and getting harder as you slowly, deliberately, stroked his cock with the slick, milky, makeshift lubricant. You felt it stick to his balls, run down your wrist, making a mess, the heady scent of his release saturating the air and this memory.

“You’re persistent,” you remarked, ticking your chin to his dick.

A whimper bubbled from his chest. “That’s… That’s n-not me.”

You shot him an oh-really look.

“That’s all him,” Jungkook protested, gesturing wildly to his lower half. “I don’t even… I’m not normally like this!���

“Uh huh,” you agreed dismissively.

“It’s true!”

“Well, I wouldn’t know,” you pointed out.

“I… Oh, f-fuck…”

-

You opened the front door to your apartment to a shirtless Jeon Jungkook with his blue plaid pajama pants so hastily yanked on that you wondered if half a butt cheek was hanging out. Then you wondered what the fuck he was doing here.

You stared at him.

He stared at you.

Out of breath, clutching one side of the doorframe, relief crushing through the panic in his eyes. His hair was sticking up halfway, as if he had attempted do it something about it but ultimately decided he didn’t care. He stood in the dark hallway, the light from your apartment washing over him. You had a good reason for being in your home at the moment. Ultimately the idea of using Namjoon’s dishes to clean off Jungkook’s bodily fluids on a very expensive ring was, uh, too much. Overstepping an unspoken boundary, mayhap. As if having sex with his friend in his kitchen wasn’t. Anyway, you had jewelry cleaner under your kitchen sink. The plan was simple. Get in your apartment, put the ring in one of the shallow metal saucers you had, rinse off your hands while heating up a bit of hot water, wash off the ring with said hot water in the safety of the saucer, polish it up with jewelry cleaner. It was dying on a paper towel in your kitchen right now. Nowhere close to the sink because you weren’t about to lose millions of won that didn’t belong to you to the sewer.

So, yeah. That was why you were here.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you loudly whispered.

Jungkook exhaled hard, his dark brows knitting together. “What? You have the ring,” he hiss-whispered back.

You bristled. “I told you I was cleaning it off.”

His eyes darted up and down, as if disapproving that you had put your tank top back on. Of course you had put your shirt back on. What were you going to do, slink back into your apartment with your tits out and one of your hands covered in his cum? Yes, that happened. After spitting on him, you had put his hard cock back into your mouth, sucked him until about halfway to the high, and finished him off with your right hand, all so you could make him orgasm onto the ring on your left, onto your middle finger, cum sliding down your forearm. It hadn’t taken long. You had pointed that out to Jungkook too. He had told you to shut up, his ears bright red as he did so.

Naturally, you took that moment to hightail it out of there so he could fix himself up in peace and relative dignity.

“How would I know you weren’t stealing it?” he snapped.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m totally going to drive to the pawn shop with a cum-covered ring and get extra for your excellent sperm sample. It’s time sensitive, after all,” you added sarcastically, not backing down despite his irritated demeanor. 

He flapped his jaw, likely not knowing how to respond to that, and then collected himself. “Well, just because you’re washing it off doesn’t mean you would come back!”

You were personally offended. “I was coming back,” you retorted.

A darkness laced into his gaze.

“I have no reason to believe that,” Jungkook muttered.

Any anger you had dissipated upon hearing his words. Your shoulders slumped and you lowered your eyes. Right. Yeah, obviously. The fight seemed to deflate out of him too, as if you both suddenly remembered why he was here at all, why you even knew who he was, why an almost-engagement ring was sparkling in your kitchen right now. You raised your head, and yet you hesitated at his hunched-up form before you, because in this equation the most probable outcome was you being nothing more than temporary comfort for a temporary wound.

Right?

Yeah, obviously.

Jungkook looked up, meeting your eyes, and, despite your best self-deprecation, something in his expression told you that he didn’t run over here half-naked for the stupid ring.

Your lips parted.

Somewhere down the hall, a bubble of laughter and conversation began to rise.

Panic shot through your chest. He caught on just as quickly, his big eyes widening, half-turning, as if there was time to gauge how much time he had to make his getaway, but your hands moved on their own, snatching him by the shoulders and pulling hard, throwing both of you into the confines of your apartment. His arms flew about like a rag doll. Jungkook stumbled in with a wheezing, “Wah!” You twisted, clearing the curve of the closing door, and pinned his back to it, slamming it shut.

Sudden quiet.

Except for the heightened awareness of your own rapid breathing. You closed your eyes, mentally counting, one two three four, two two three four, taking stock of each inhale and exhale. Shit. Shit, what the fuck were people doing out at this hour? Having fun?! With friends?!? Goddamnit, you thought, hoping nobody saw the shirtless man standing outside your door bickering with you, and suddenly you remembered said shirtless man was in your hands.

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook gawking at you with those innocent-looking big eyes of his.

He didn’t say anything.

You wondered if he would believe you.

“I was coming back,” you repeated, emphasizing it with a nod.

A complicated set of emotions flashed through the shadows of his expression. He nodded back, and you could tell he was doing it only to appease you. You shook him against the door and smacked your hands down on his shoulders, glaring back at him.

“I was coming back,” you growled.

Jungkook looked pained, as if he wanted to believe you more than anything, but just couldn’t.

You sucked on the inside of your cheek and flung yourself from him, spinning around sharply so he couldn’t see your face. You couldn’t blame him. Oh, you had lied before, lied with a straight face and no remorse, but for some reason the idea of Jungkook thinking that you were doing so made you terribly upset. Fuck, yeah, it pissed you off. And it wasn’t his fault, Rome wasn’t built in a day and all that shit, yet some part of you wanted to scream, believe me, please believe me, and you couldn’t for the life of you make heads or tails of why that was, walking in a circle, wringing your hands, rubbing your temples with a grimace, not wanting to take your outburst out on him.

It was such a small thing.

You were coming back, he didn’t believe you, and that was that, you would have to accept it.

But you couldn’t.

You just needed a second to accept it. Right?

“How the fuck did I get myself in this situation?”

You muttered under your breath, abruptly ceasing your pacing and turning around, intending to march over to the ring, drop it in Jungkook’s palm, and shove him out of your apartment. Shove him and his stupid sexy butt into Namjoon’s place to neatly compartmentalize that, so long and goodnight, and promptly flop onto your bed to sleep and forget any of this ever happened.

Except, when you faced him, Jungkook caught you.

You started, not realizing he had followed. One second his hands were on your upper arms, and the next they were wrapped around your back, pulling you to him and trapping you in a tight, encompassing embrace that was not for you.

Your hands instinctively came up to cradle his waist.

He buried his face into your hair and inhaled deeply, holding onto you as if his life depended on it. Almost crushing. You thought he was trembling but perhaps it was just your imagination as you felt each shuddering breath steady against your chest. Honestly, you weren’t the hugging type, but this night was proving to be a night of exceptions. You closed your arms around him, not saying anything, letting him have this. Probably the most normal interaction of the night, truly. Jungkook wasn’t crying. He might have, if you had rejected him, but your instinct didn’t have the heart to. You caressed his back, running your fingers over his soft skin.

You didn’t know him.

He could be a serial killer.

Well, if he was, you were considering to offer to bury the bodies.

“Hey… You shouldn’t…”

Even so, you trailed off. You weren’t sure you quite believed what you were trying to say.

“I don’t care.”

His warm breath haloed the crown of your head. He pressed his lips to your hair.

“I don’t care,” he said again, softer this time.

A small, sweet, wrong happiness fluttered at those words.

“Okay,” you breathed, your lips brushing against his neck. You kissed him lightly. Felt him shiver. You smiled. Truth was, you didn’t care either. That was pretty selfish of you. But he was here of his own volition. And Jungkook held you first. And who the fuck were you justifying this to? I’ve lost it, you told yourself for the umpteenth time as he was turned his head and suddenly his lips were a centimeter from yours.

In shadows, your eyes met his.

“I turned your whole world upside down,” you confessed, warning him that this was a one-way highway and he was breaking the speed limit.

You felt Jungkook smile.

“Thank fuck for that,” and then he put pedal to the metal.

Upon reflection, what the fuck was Jungkook thinking, bursting into your apartment with only pajama pants and a dream? Oh, and some sandals borrowed from Namjoon, which quickly flew off as you both stumbled into your living room, abandoning your clothes at an alarming rate. Your top over your head, your hands down his sides, and he hadn’t even bothered with his underwear, this would be my luck, I would want a lunatic, you thought as his thumbs hooked onto the edge of your shorts, pulling down. All the while with your tongue in his mouth.

Normally you would have a conversation about limits and intent and what this was all supposed to mean afterwards but under normal circumstances you would also never imagine having sex with someone you barely met after watching him cry within the first ten minutes.

So.

There was that.

You felt your panties slide down your ass and you grabbed his wrists, yanking them back up as your shorts and underwear slowly migrated down to the floor.

“Wha… W-What?” Jungkook sputtered, breaking out of the kiss and looking like a startled deer confronted by the headlights of your abrupt shift in body language. You sucked in a breath, your lips tingling.

Taking notes.

He immediately stopped even without you explicitly saying stop. He was not trying to overpower you to coerce you for more, even if he was now explicitly staring at your naked body with a bug-eyed expression. You pushed your hands forward and Jungkook stepped back, not quite understanding and blindly trusting you, which was not indicative of a sane headspace.

“You’ve done this before,” you breathed out, glaring up at him from below.

He shook his head very quickly. “No. Well… I mean… it is n-normally what I search for when I wanna get off, so you’re kinda a dream come true for me…”

You narrowed your eyes. “What are you talking about?”

A flutter of confusion.

“Uh… Being dominated by a hot woman?”

You stared at him.

Jungkook tilted his head.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” you said while gripping his wrists and in command of the situation.

His eyes shifted from side to side. “A… Aren’t you?”

A chill crept up your back. “What did you think I was going to do?” you pressed.

He looked back at you, blinking. “I don’t know,” Jungkook answered, sounding truthful.

You squeezed tighter. He gasped a little, his inhale hitching. You relaxed. He seemed disappointed.

“What’s wrong with you?” you snapped.

He paused for a moment and then replied with, “Trauma?”

Well, he wasn't wrong.

“Get on the sofa.”

“What?”

“Now.”

You had one of those viral extra-comfy modular sofas that could be placed in various orientations. Currently, it was as it always was – all linked together, turning the couch into more of a bed than anything else. Hey, there was a reason you enjoyed rotting on your sofa. Maybe you should have taken him to your bed, but Jungkook didn’t seem to care, reacting immediately when you shoved him. Actually, he seemed to approve of your furniture choices. He sat. You planted your hands on his chest and pushed him down, straddling his waist. He yelped, which you immediately silenced with a hand over his mouth and one on his dick, sliding down the underside and squeezing his balls.

His big eyes got bigger.

You slid up his torso, realizing you where dripping pussy juice everywhere. His hands ended up on your breasts. You raised your eyebrows. Those big eyes pleaded with you. You didn’t say anything, instead tilting your head back and toying with his balls, testing the waters. It was a little distracting with the pinching and rubbing of your nipples, but you took a second to test how much pressure he liked, if he enjoyed scratches (he did), if he enjoyed a tug (he did), and if he was fine with your weight on top of him (he was and he seemed to be trying to get you to move up a little higher for personal reasons). His dick was definitely into it. His stiff length was smacking your wrist. Pre-cum was smearing onto your forearm.

Without much warning, you sat back up, climbed over him, and turned around.

Your knees hit his shoulders. There was a gasping, “Wow, oh my god,” when Jungkook came face-to-face with your pussy. You leaned down to your elbows, hovered your hands over his inner thighs, his erection centimeters from your face, and slapped him extremely close to his balls.

Jungkook let out an inhuman noise and muffled him with your ass.

Hot, wet muscle slid against soaked skin. His arms wrapped around your thighs, his hands on your hips, sending a wave of sparks up your core as you descended, wrapping your tongue around his cock, running your fingernails over his balls, relishing in the sensation of tightened skin, tense muscle, and his taste, oh, fuck, his taste, your tongue running over the swollen tip. You kissed downwards. Your teeth braced around one of his balls, licking the curve while pressing the warm shaft against your cheek, using your palm to stroke up and down. Your hair was getting in the way, annoyingly, so you switched sides and swept it aside in the same movement, practically laying on his hard thigh and your upper arm as you kept a hand around his cock and sucked on one of his balls roughly while pinching the other between your knuckles as you jacked him off.

With your pussy rocking against his hungry mouth, of course.

You felt his tongue hit your clit and your body stiffened from the unexpected burst of concentrated pleasure, but that was soon replaced by his lips sealed around it, desperately sucking. He lacked technique, but then again it probably wasn’t that easy to concentrate either. A perverse sense of accomplishment simmered through you as you realized his blunt nails were digging into your ass, aiding you in the pace and his own suffocation. So, instead of actually getting him off, you edged him.

And continued edging him.

Until he made you cum.

You knew exactly when he was going to orgasm because he would pause, gasping, breaking the seal for a breath, and then at the very last second you would release his cock, making him whine and cry out before planting your pussy onto his mouth again. You did it again, and somewhere in Jungkook’s lizard brain he got the hint, gripping you harder and licking faster with his stifled groans vibrating against your thighs, building heat, the muscles in your back tightening, sucking harder as you felt the coil within tighten, so close, throbbing in your palm, close, the thinning thread almost at breaking point, and you lifted your head, tugging, his wet ball popping out of your mouth, and replaced your hand with your lips as something inside you snapped.

For a fleeting, desperate moment, you were plummeting through euphoric freefall.

The next, your contracted muscles suddenly relaxed with a pins-and-needles sensation shooting all throughout your nerves, overwhelming euphoria almost unbearable, barely registering that it was slippery and sticky between your thighs, realizing that you haven’t moved your head, but Jungkook was gasping, clutching your legs and arching his back so his chest pressed against your stomach. Aggressive flinches shot through his entire body, ricocheting from his core. His cock jerked in your mouth, beginning to soften. You didn’t taste any bitterness. Ah. He orgasmed without delivering any unpleasant package. In the back of your mind, you were relieved. This would have been the fourth nut of the night. It probably would have tasted quite bitter and you weren’t a quitter; you were lucky to be spared this time.

He couldn’t control it but you patted his thigh with gratitude anyway.

When you unpeeled yourself from him, Jungkook looked like he badly needed another shower.

“You okay?” you asked, poking his shoulder.

His chest was glistening with sweat. His hair was a mess. He looked like he was discovering oxygen for the first time. His eyes were unfocused. He didn’t even try to lift his arms, or move at all for that matter.

“Y… Yeah…” Jungkook wheezed.

You sat on your sofa and wondered how you ended up in the same place that you started this night.

-

Well.

As it was with life, things didn’t go as intended and now you were stuck in the usual fuckery. But that was fine. You could go back to your regular life of existing in what would most call a frivolous manner quite easily as long as you could somehow get rid of Jeon Jungkook. Which wasn’t happening. Oh. Great. You nodded at yourself in the bathroom mirror after washing up. Everything is going to be fine, you reminded yourself.

You turned around and Jungkook was standing behind you.

In the doorframe of your bathroom. Of course. You and Jeon Jungkook and doors. You blinked quickly, a little disoriented at how quickly he cleaned himself up in your kitchen. Such was the way of men that you would never understand. His hair was still unbrushed and wild, and he was rubbing his shoulder slightly with a grunt of discomfort, jolting to attention when he realized you were done. He was sans pajama pants. Your clothes were somewhere on the floor too.

“Um.”

You really thought at some moment Jungkook would have this internal revelation and shrink away from you, the burden of the past twenty-four hours finally hitting him, but instead he was in la-la land of following you around. A hair’s breath short of a musical number, probably. Delulu was the solulu. And while you wouldn’t advise the avoidance tactic yourself, you weren’t ready to break his reverie just yet.

But.

Sooner was better than later.

“Do you feel better?” you asked.

The dark cloud poisoned his eyes a little but not as much as before. “Uh… I don’t know.”

You hadn’t expected much of an answer. There was still a little sting of disappointment, though. “Pain is not as bad as everyone makes it out to be,” you said. “And a complicated emotion at that.”

His shoulder leaned against the doorframe but not in the stance of blocking your way out. It was more like he needed something else to hold him up. He still put on a brave face though. “I… I just feel like I wasted my time more than anything else,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair and making it worse. “Shit, even fucking around like this was a million times better than whatever the fuck I was doing for the last two years.” He started, realizing how that sounded. “Not that – Not that this was fucking around, I mean…!”

You laughed.

Jungkook stared at you, his panic frozen.

You shook your head. “It was fucking around,” you said with a smirk.

“No, I don’t–”

You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s the only way I know how to cope myself.”

The conversation died.

The words from your mouth finally caught up to your brain. You stiffened, shooting Jungkook a flustered look and seeing a reflection of your emotion in his expression. “I mean… Comfort others. No. Well. I… It sounds worse than it is…” You trailed off, making it indeed sound worse than it was. “You’re… You wanted it?” It was supposed to be a statement but it came out as a question.

“Uh, y-yeah. Yeah, I did,” he stuttered, his eyes darted away swiftly, embarrassment evident. “S-Sorry.”

“No, I did too,” you added, and then abruptly cleared your throat. You sighed, annoyed at yourself for making this more difficult than it should be. “I… I really didn’t want you to do anything stupid. You seemed so… so sad. It bothered me. I wanted to do something for you,” you confessed after a pause. You chewed on the side of your lower lip. “Not that anything I’ve done mattered, I don’t think I’m a god or anything, I can’t control your feelings, so…”

“You are… You are probably the closest thing to a god I know.”

You raised your head and Jungkook was trying not to look at you and failing. He was picking at the paint on your doorframe, or at least pretending like he was.

“In the flesh. ‘Cause I guess we can’t really see gods and stuff…”

He was rambling a bunch of nonsense.

And you didn’t know why, but there was this feeling. It wasn’t about if you found him physically appealing. It wasn’t even about how endearing you found his habits, or about how he told you everything while pretending like he wasn’t, or about how you had an affinity for doing things that were not really the hallmarks of a good person. There was just this feeling. This awkwardness that somehow didn’t feel negative. This state of high that wasn’t going away even though you weren’t really thinking about screwing him again. You might never see him after this. You might see him for a little bit and part. These were all probable outcomes. Forever only existed in the afterlife which was why you lived on a false prayer and a why-the-fuck-not attitude. You knew all this.

And yet, the feeling persisted.

“I must say,” you mused, staring at him, this feeling bubbling up your ribcage. “I haven’t done a stupid thing like this since I was in university.”

Jungkook blinked at you.

“Which was years ago,” you clarified. “I thought I was over that phase.”

Your eyes went to his tattoos. Then back to his face. He had a bunch of ear piercings you noticed right now. To be fair, you weren’t exactly ogling his earlobes while he was sobbing into his duffel bag. That would be weird. He noticed you looking. Consciously but trying to play it cool, he shifted his right arm to show off a little more. You pretended that you didn’t notice while totally noticing. This close to an eyebrow wiggle. And then you suddenly remembered something.

“Erm… Where are you gonna live?”

He frowned as if he, too, hadn’t thought that far. “Uh. I dunno. I was gonna stay with Namjoon-hyung a couple days and then look up apartments…” He looked pained. “I might have to rent a room… I can’t go back to Busan. My work is here. Man…”

“Ah,” you timidly agreed. “Yeah. Good call.”

There was a pregnant silence.

“But the leasing office only gives out two keys,” you thought out loud. “And I have his other one. So… I could give it to you. But then you would have to be the one that comes to rescue him every time he’s locked himself out. I guess I could let him stay my place until you arrive. Or maybe you have a flexible schedule, so it wouldn’t be an issue.”

Jungkook rubbed his chest, wincing. “Oh… I’m a videographer. I have a schedule every two weeks, but there are odd call times, especially when we are filming outside… depends on the client and what they need. Uh…”

You coughed awkwardly. “Hm. I work from home. So. I’m always here, basically.”

Both of you were avoiding each other’s eyes. There was another, heavily pregnant silence.

You cast him a sidelong glance.

He gave you a similar hesitant but hopeful look.

“You don’t know me,” you reminded him. “I could be really horrible to live with.”

Jungkook peered over your head to observe the state of your bathroom. He glanced back to you. “Looks clean to me.” His eyes were shining. So bright. So adorable. It was over for you.

“I spend all of my free time rotting on my couch and watching YouTube,” you admitted, weakly trying to dissuade him.

“Me too!” He chimed in, a little too excitedly. He coughed and straightened a bit. “Uh… I cook too. And do laundry. I’m really good at household chores. I can show you. I can clean right now!”

You grabbed his arm before he could shoot away and top-down scrub your apartment at three in the morning butt naked. “Er, we could… Do a trial run. Of you…” You noticed that you had yanked him hard enough so that you were now staring at his chest as you spoke. With each word, you raised your line of vision. From his clavicle, to his neck, to his dark pink lips clearly indicative of shared kisses, to his soulful eyes gazing down at you.

Yearning.

“Living with me,” you finished, loosening your hold a bit. Trailing down to his wrist. “If you want.”

His eyes shifted but he was doing anything but resisting. “You sure… About that?”

You weren’t and at the same time you were.

“It’s only until you get back on your feet.” You tried to sound firm about it but somehow you were holding his hand now, clutching it tightly. “I’m sure you want… More space. Or there will be something you don’t like about this apartment. For example, I only have one bed. And it’s a full-sized bed.”

Jungkook was staring into your eyes and his face was getting closer.

“Sounds nice,” he murmured, his breath against your nose.

“It’s not,” you assured him, and you tilted your head up to kiss him.

--

masterpost

[allisxnnn]

No warning, just comforting grumpy Levi!

"Shit, that feels nice," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. He rarely allowed himself such moments of vulnerability, but with you, it felt almost natural.

You chuckled softly. "You always act like you hate this, but I know better."

"Tch, don't get used to it, brat," he grumbled, though his tone lacked its usual edge. "Doesn't mean I don't appreciate it, though."

You continued your gentle ministrations, your touch soothing and comforting. "You know, you're really different when it's just us. Softer."

"Don't go spreading that around," he said, half-joking, half-serious. "I have a reputation to maintain."

You smiled, understanding the complexities of his personality. "Your secret's safe with me. But you should let yourself relax more often. You deserve it."

He was silent for a moment, then finally admitted, "I know. It’s just... hard to switch off, you know? Always waiting for the next fight, the next crisis."

You nodded, your hand still gently stroking his hair. "I get it. But even you need to take a break sometimes. You're human, Levi."

"Yeah, well, being human is a pain in the ass," he muttered, but there was a softness in his eyes that belied his gruff words.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You're my pain in the ass," you said softly.

He snorted, the closest thing to a laugh you'd heard from him in a while. "Damn right I am."

For a while, the two of you just lay there in comfortable silence, the only sound the soft rustle of the sheets and the occasional distant noise from outside. It was a rare moment of peace in a world that seemed to offer so little of it.

Finally, Levi shifted, pulling you closer. "Thanks," he said simply, his voice gruff but sincere.

[won4kiss]

𖠵 . ׅ ࣪ ⌇𝐼𝑇’𝑆 𝐴 𝐷𝐴𝑇𝐸 !

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 𝑆urgeon rival! 𝓁ee 𝒽eeseung x 𝑓! reader 𝒢enre. angst 𝓢ynopsis. in which your rival takes an argument too far ! 𝑤𝑐 𐙚ㅤㅤ 1402 ⸝⸝ not proof read argument surgery mentioned cursing kissing ୭ৎ — 𝓁ibrar𝓎 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

PLEASE LIKE & REBLOG ! ໒꒰ྀི ≧ ᗜ ≦ ꒱ྀིა

THE STERILE SCENT OF THE ANTISEPTIC FILLED THE AIR AS YOU SCRUBBED IN FOR ANOTHER GRUELING AND TIRESOME SURGERY.

as a cardiothoracic surgeon at one of the top hospitals in the country, you were used to the high-pressure environment.

however, one thing you could never get used to was working alongside lee heeseung.

heeseung, with his sharp intellect and even sharper tongue, and his annoyingly angelic face— contrasting to his devilish personality was your professional rival.

as much as you hated to admit— he was as brilliant as he was infuriating, and every time your paths crossed, sparks flew—mostly in the form of heated arguments.

today was no different. you glanced at heeseung through the glass of the scrub room, noticing the way his jaw tightened as he prepared for the surgery. — more under cut !

he caught your eye and held your gaze for a moment longer than necessary with a small grin before it faded into a cocky smirk looking away, a silent challenge lingering in the air.

as you walked into the room, you felt yourself immediately grow agitated already at heeseung’s words.

“are you sure you should be near this patient, it would be a shame to put him at risk because of some dumbass with no surgical skills whatsoever..” he finished as the nurses around you sighed at the bickering to come.

“come on lee, you’re annoying everyone in the damn room. shut your pretty mouth and put those hands to use.”

“oh i know how to put these hands to use alright—“

“oh my fucking god, lee heeseun—“

before you could rebuttal, the nurse interrupted.

“um— the patient is under now.. could you do your job and talk about ‘putting those hands to use’ later?”

you winced at how informally you were talking in front of the nurses— lee heeseung sure does bring out the worst in you, alright.

“right… I’m sorry everyone!”

as the surgery began, you fell into the familiar rhythm, focusing on the delicate sutures and balance required to save a life.

the patient, a middle-aged man with severe coronary artery disease, was in an extreme critical condition.

every move had to be precise, every decision planned and flawless.

despite the tension between you and heeseung, both you and heeseung were professionals, completely focused on the task at hand.

the surgery proceeded smoothly until a complication arose—an unexpected tear in the arterial wall.

"we need to act fast," you said, your voice steady despite the panic and urgency.

"i know," heeseung replied tensely. "suction, now!"

you worked in quiet, the room silent except for the beeping of monitors and the soft clink of instruments.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, the crisis was under control, and the patient's condition stabilized.

as you stepped back, heeseung's eyes met yours again.

"good work," he said, but there was no warmth in his tone, only a grudging edge.

he was usually in a positive mood after a surgery had finished, but today something different— cold, almost angry sparked in his bambi eyes, leaving you in a sour mood.

the surgery had taken its toll, and you were completely exhausted.

you headed to the break room, hoping for even a small moment of peace with your growing headache, but heeseung followed you.

you could feel his eyes boring into your back as you poured yourself a cup of coffee.

"do you ever think before you act?" he snapped, breaking the silence.

you turned to face him, frowning at his accusatory tone.

"what are you on about now, lee?"

"if you hadn't hesitated, maybe we wouldn't have had that complication," he said, his words like a slap to the face.

you felt your blood boil. "are you seriously blaming me for that? we both know it was an unpredictable complication."

heeseung's eyes flashed with anger. "maybe if you paid more attention to the patient's history, you would have anticipated it."

“are you kidding me, heeseung? please, i can’t do this today—“

unfortunately, heeseung failed to notice the trembling in your voice and continued the growing argument.

“you can’t do this today? be so serious y/n, that man almost died today— you almost killed that man!”

the argument escalated quickly, voices rising as accusations flew back and forth.

finally, heeseung said something that cut deeper than any scalpel.

"maybe if you were more competent, our patient wouldn't have been at such risk of death because of you and you only!."

the room fell silent. his words hung in the air, heavy and unforgivable.

you felt your throat tighten, tears threatening to spill. without another word, you turned and walked out, leaving heeseung standing there, a look of shock and regret on his face.

days passed, and you avoided heeseung like the plague.

you switched shifts, took your breaks at odd times, and even walked the long way around the hospital to avoid running into him.

you knew it was petty— but you couldn't help it.

his words had hurt more than you wanted to admit.

heeseung, for his part, seemed increasingly frustrated. you could see him out of the corner of your eye, his gaze following you whenever you were in the same room.

he tried to approach you several times, but you always found a way to slip away before he could say anything.

your colleagues noticed the growing tension and ultimately decided on avoiding the two of you in the same room altogether.

it wasn't until you found yourself alone in the on-call room that heeseung had finally managed to corner you.

you were resting on the stiff bunk bed, trying to catch a few minutes of sleep when the door swung open.

to your surprise— heeseung stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of determination and desperation.

“oh, you’ve got to be kidding me—“

"we need to talk, y/n.." he said, closing the door behind him.

you sat up, crossing your arms defensively.

"there's nothing to talk about."

"yes, there is," he insisted, stepping closer.

"look— i didn't mean what i said the other day. i was angry and tired, and i took it out on you. it wasn't fair, and i'm sorry."

you looked away, the hurt still fresh. "you can't just say something like that and expect everything to be okay."

heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"i know. and i don't expect you to forgive me right away. but it hurts when you ignore me. we work together, and i... i can't stand the thought of you hating me."

you felt a pang of sympathy despite yourself.

"heeseung, it's not that easy. you really hurt me this time."

"i know," he said softly.

"and i'd do anything to make it right. even if it means losing all my dignity saying this."

you couldn't help it—a small giggle escaped your lips.

the idea of the usually stoic heeseung talking about losing his dignity was too much.

heeseung's eyes lit up at the sound, and a soft smile spread across his face.

"there it is," he said gently.

"that's the smile i've missed."

you shook your head, still smiling.

"you're impossible, lee heeseung."

heeseung took a step closer, his expression earnest.

"i mean it. i'm really sorry. can we.. start over?"

you hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"okay lee. but you owe me."

heeseung grinned. "anything you want. just name it."

"how about a date?" you suggested, your eyes widened, surprising yourself with your boldness.

heeseung's eyes widened in surprise, then softened. "a date? i'd like that."

he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. the touch was warm, comforting.

slowly, he leaned in, his lips nearly touching yours as he looked into your eyes with a gentleness.

“can i…”

“get on with it already, heeseung—“

suddenly his lips crashed against yours, meeting yours in a soft, delicate kiss.

it was gentle, feeling all the unspoken words and feelings from all these years of working together, bickering and the childish arguments.

when you finally pulled away, heeseung was smiling.

"so, about that date... when are you free?"

you giggled, the tension between you finally broken.

"how about tonight after our shift ends?"

"it's a date," he said, his eyes sparkling with genuine happiness and adoration.

as you left the on-call room together, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things would be different from now on.

© won4kiss 2024

taglist open ‹𝟹 @mioons @nshmuras @suneng @pnghoon @shawnyle @greentulip @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @pockyyasii @iluvnikism

[mocha-tapioca]

hngah

[kaiser1ns]

#. HUH !?

featuring 𝘀𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗿𝗮 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝘂𝗸𝗮 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

fluff. sometimes you ask yourself are boys that dense or is it just your crush?

for my fellow beloved sakura lover @y2kuromi

Sakura was already used to the adrenaline rush of fighting, and the banter with the ones who dared to cross the lines with Bofurin. Yet, there was one thing he couldn't quite wrap his head around—you.

You were just another member of their gang, albeit a particularly striking one. Your presence seemed to permeate every space you occupied, drawing attention and how you effortlessly charmed everyone around, even the toughest of their gang members.

"Huh?" The heterochromia eyed boy often found himself uttering that single syllable whenever you did something that caught him off guard. It became an inside joke among his friends—the way they thought Sakura Haruka would blush furiously and stutter whenever you paid him even the slightest bit of attention.

It wasn't just your looks that threw him off. Sure, you were undeniably beautiful, but there was more to it than that. You had a way of seeing through his tough exterior, calling out his moments of vulnerability with a teasing smile that simultaneously embarrassed him.

One evening, after a particularly rough patrol, you insisted on patching up his scraped knuckles. He sat on the edge of your bed, feeling oddly nervous as you cleaned the cuts and applied bandages. "You're such a reckless person, Haru" you teased gently with that nickname, especially with the nickname that made his whole face red and for him to pout lips, as your fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary on his hand. "You need to be more careful out there."

Sakura ould feel the heat rising to his cheeks. It was hot, you were hot, wait, that's not what he wanted to think, not that it wasn't true, it was on 100%, you were so pretty, unbelievably stupidly pretty, was it the correct way to put it? Oh, God just let him burn already, "Huh?" he managed to mumble, avoiding your gaze as you chuckled softly, a sound that sent him into existence crisis, "I said, you need to take better care of yourself. You're important to me, you know?"

Your words caught him off guard. Sakura wasn't used to being the recipient of such straightforward care and concern. He was more accustomed to dishing it out to others, not having it directed back at him.

As days went by, he found himself becoming more increasingly aware of your presence. Whether you were teasing him about his grumpy morning mood or simply sitting quietly beside him during Bofurin meetings, you always seemed to have a way of making him feel both at safe and on edge simultaneously.

Walking back to Café Pothos, you nudged him playfully with your elbow. "Hey, Haru, did you see that guy's face when you punched him? It was priceless!"

Sakura chuckled nervously, his heart pounding in his chest. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess." You grinned and your eyes quite literally were sparkling, was that even biologically possible for someone to look so pretty when so happy, well you sure did. "You're hopeless, you know that?"

His's cheeks flushed crimson. Again it was hot, because you were hot. Damnit. What was happening? Why is he burning? Why am I burning? Too many questions, with one easy answer. "I-I am not!" Your conversation continued late into the night, long after the others had left the restaurant. Sakura found himself enjoying these moments with you more than he cared to admit.

As you sat together under the stars, you leaned against Sakura's shoulder. "You know, Haru, you don't always have to be so tough. It's okay to let your guard down sometimes."

Sakura felt his heart skip a beat. He turned to look at you, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a fish out of water. "Huh?" You laughed softly, your breath warm against his cheek. "Exactly like that. You're too cute when you're flustered."

He could feel the warmth spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He glanced down at his hands, trying to compose himself. "I-I'm not cute, stop it!" he muttered, though he couldn't hide the smile that appeared on his pouty lips.

You tilted your head, studying his expression with those lovesick eyes. As someone who noticed and felt romance for others, it was a lost cause for his own romantic experience. "Maybe not to yourself," you said, gently booping his nose, "but definitely to me."

Sakura's heart drowned in a pool of emotions he couldn't quite name. He swallowed nervously, his throat suddenly dry. "Y/N, I..." Before he could finish, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "You don't have to say anything," you whispered against his ear, voice so quiet, so gentle...so smooth, "Just know that I'm glad you're here with me, Haruka."

For the first time, Sakura Haruka's mind went blank. He felt like the world had stopped spinning, leaving only the two of you in a timeless moment beneath the stars, lost in the galaxy, searching for one another in the infinite space. He glanced at you, meeting your eyes with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. As if he had found something he had been longing for all his life. The depth of his eyes drew you in, making you feel like you were the center of his universe, a precious star in his vast, personal sky.

"Huh?" Sakura managed to whisper, his voice barely above a breath. You smiled at his supposed answer, you knew what would he say either way. "Exactly Haru," you murmured, her fingers intertwining with his. "Exactly."

And so, the next day at Furin High School, everyone seemed to laugh at Saku, not in a bullying manner, but more of a teasing one.

"It seems that your girl finally got you," Suo Hayato smiled at his classmate, teasing as always, and the other Bofurin members gave him thumbs up and some winks. Weird. It made him very confused. Why were they staring at him so much? Did he have something on his face? He swore he washed and showered every day. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. You see, everyone hoped that you would finally make a move, but she beats you to it once again." Sakura's confusion only deepened. Before he could ask more, Nirei walked up to him, "Here, let me show you, Sakura-san." he said, pulling out his phone and opening the camera app. He handed it to him, who looked at his reflection on the screen. There, on his cheeks, were a bright red lipstick marks. His eyes widened as he remembered yesterday's encounter with the girl he liked. Sakura's face turned an even deeper shade of red, matching the lipstick colour perfectly. The realization hit him like a ton of fists in the ring, and his friends burst into laughter at his embarrassed state.

"Huh?" And the saga counties...

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work

[justblades]

⌕ CRAVINGS, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : gepard landau x afab! reader WC : 1.5k

⟢ WARNINGS : MDNI. fluff, breeding, impregnation, pussy deprived! gepard, cervix kissing.

Gepard Landau is a stronghold of resolve and kept promises; the one who truly fits the theme of what a captain is made up of. Should you hear his name spilling from the silvermane guards' lips, they were all praises and musings, hoping that their captain would acknowledge their efforts and promote their position.

To be a resolute person, showing no signs, leaving no traces of weaknesses behind for they can be used by your foe when time permits; it was indubitable when he seeks for his solace, a place he can rest and let his guard down once in a while. To let his sharp, firm edges soften— admittingly wanting to be caressed with intimacy and care no one could give him but his lover.

Even though you could pick up how his work had taken a toll on him from the endless fragmentum monsters emerging from the depths of the shadows, he still puts up a façade of being strong, facing everything head on. As much as you wanted him to drop it and just bask in the feeling of being held, Gepard wasn't that type of man. Everything he says, he sees through.

Fortunately, the Belobog's crisis wraps itself up at last. With the emergence of overworld and the underworld, he'd been cut some slack. No need for heightened patrols since the curfew was abolished, for once, he could finally rest in your arms. His luscious, smoked blonde hair falls over right below your ear, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"I missed holding you like this." He says, voice laced with a sweet tone to it, his arms wrapped around your waist tightly. You cup his hot pink tinted cheeks and lift his face to level with yours, your eyes agleam of love and passion, you press a chaste kiss on his icy skin.

Gepard draws you a gaze, one that emits confusion. "Let loose for a while." You say and slowly glide your hands from his face down to his stomach. His breath suddenly hitches the lower your touch traveled, you whisper to his ear meticulously, "It's been so long. You sure you don't miss it?"

A sly smirk creeps on your face meanwhile the blonde male does his best attempt to hide it. Although his growing bulge that came contact with your thighs gave it away. His rover blue hues only averted away from your figure, embarrassment gushing through his system. All he needs is just a little teasing, and then, the cogs of his body's lust will soon start moving.

You press your lips onto his in lento, making sure he could feel the warmth of your breath tickling his skin, and your fingers slightly playing with his clothed erection. A soft mewl comes out of your mouth and there he felt a little too defeated, for he lost from battling his temptation and his tongue enters your mouth, twirling with yours in satisfaction.

His soft, tender side flips 180 degrees, his actions now radiate hunger and fervor. Gepard's hands land on yours, but you were only taken aback when he makes you stroke his crotch more, in a pace you knew very well he was fond of. The captain moans into your mouth, a guttural one at that.

"Since you're offering nicely, I'm just accepting generously." He says and as if the time came to a standstill, your clothes were ripped apart with Gepard's brute force alone. He uses his teeth to rid himself of the pearly white gloves he sported, carelessly throwing it away somewhere it wouldn't bother you. Your back suddenly meets with the soft, cushioned sofa, breathing becoming ragged.

One thing's for sure, you're loving how everything is unfolding. Surely the yearning for some intimacy also left him with a pent up sexual frustration, it was no wonder he suddenly bursted with a deep desire to conquer, to ruin, and to prey on. His usual navy irises transition into darker shades, unable to control himself any longer.

"No foreplay for now. Maybe later for round two—" He says as he sweeps your undergarment to the side, eyeing carefully your throbbing entrance with his watchful eyes. "Doesn't look like you need it either when you're already this sopping wet." Gepard pumps two digits into your hole, his fingers already drenched with your love juices.

You feel like your tongue betrayed you for you were at a loss for words in the heat of the moment. But nonetheless, you brace yourself from the incoming sensation. The crown of his dick was hot, rubbing against your slit naughtily at a painfully slow pace.

It has been so long hence why you were this wet already— imagine being that desperate for your lover's touches that snuggling with him makes you think of the dirtiest things. But with how the tables have turned, the man atop you is now whose minds are filled with corrupted, lewd thoughts. Fantasies in line waiting to come true now that you're here with him.

And as he bucks his hips, his rock hard cock fills you to the brim. Your walls contract from the abrupt intrusion while you could only hold onto his biceps for support. His arms propped both on your sides, the soft glow of the lights cast over to Gepard's half naked body— tracing his muscles flexing in every thrusts that he does, as well as how his golden locks tumble on his face along with his rhythm.

Your walls cling onto his dick, remembering his shape whenever he prods through. You wince from how girthy it was and as anticipated, he's purposely being slow today. His rams were gradual wherein you could feel his aching prominent veins rub on your insides. "Faster, Gepard."

He only hums in question - sarcastically. It was then a dilatory realization sinks in your mind, he wants you to plead for him. As shocking as it is, you never got to experience Gepard being like this for the record. It only reinforces the thought that he was indeed sexually frustrated. Sex encounters with him are always sweet, wholesome and carefree. If you had to describe it with one word, it'd be vanilla.

But Gepard Landau is being the complete opposite, however, he still has many sides of him to discover. You choose to indulge him more so you'd experience this kind of sex more often. Vanilla isn't bad, but changing once in a while is even better.

"Faster . . Gepard, please." Your breathy voice could only make out weak words. Meanwhile down there, it's muffled from the squelching noises reverberating inside the four beige painted walls. The male leans lower to you and crashes his lips once again, never getting tired of your warm, sticky liquids meshing with his.

With one last sluggish thrust, he hastily pounces into your fluttering hole, almost as if it was at 20 machs speed, not to mention he's digging deep. Your eyes widen into two full moons from the feeling, your cervix kissing his very dick's small slit. A moan bubbles from his throat, "You're so warm . . you're sucking me in . ." He muses and breaks the lascivious kiss.

Eyes heavy lidded with a piercing lustful gaze that bore straight through your soul, he builds momentum and doesn't let himself be swayed. He's here to accept your kindhearted offer and Gepard only makes the best of it. He huffs as he pounds faster, picking up the speed of his pistoning thrusts.

Meanwhile you were there, already a mess from how Gepard's touches turn you into a melting putty. In contrast to the city outskirts being traced with icy temperatures, your bodies were in heat - literally. The captain's eyes never once left your face, lips a little parted to make way to stabilize his breathing.

In sync, two of you sense that particular feeling, a satisfaction of release wherein you both tried so hardest to catch on. Bucking your hips along with your lover's, the sex fills your minds with sexual gratification. Your body trembles from the immense ecstasy, and suddenly, Gepard's mind starts to drift to ecstasy.

The way your walls coil around his dick, the way you begged for him for the both of your contentment; a thought crosses his mind. From that moment, he could envision a family, you holding something swaddled while your eyes twinkled of love and wonder. As if he was in another dimension, he treads closer to your figure. It was then he realizes it was his and your offspring, the baby uttering noises with a toothless, innocent smile. You'd make a great mother undeniably, Gepard thought, thus leading to his breakthrough.

"Let's . . have a family." He coos in between the strings of mewls escaping his sultry, sloppy lips. You were caught off guard, even though you were hoping for a long time he'd say that, you didn't think today would be the the day. With a snicker, you reassure his ideals. "Today seems like the perfect day." With one last open mouthed kiss, the blonde head shoots his seeds deep into your walls - with intentions of not just solely quenching his lascivious desires, but also having another life form birthed into this world.

His cum spills into your slit right until Gepard pulls out from your cunt. He buried so much in deep that you were certain he'd knock you up with one round alone, but your lover didn't share the same sentiment. "Let's do it thrice today, just to make sure."

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