#hope anyone seeing this post is having a good night or day or whenever. drink some water and eat a snack pls

[popping-greenbean]

haha i love.like.ruminating??

[short-honey-badger]

Haven't even seen the live action yet but Shanks has a hold of me. Enjoy some braintot! Also! I forgot to add that this was definitely inspired by @meeplaws post I found the other day! Saw it again and wanted to give them that credit!

Ps. I have more in store soon! Hope you like a good Ole fashioned Daddy kink!

Warnings!: Breeding Kink. Gaslighting. Shanks isn't very nice in this. Dark!Shanks. Possessive behavior still fluffy and plenty of smut.

Previously Wait No More

Masterlist

No One But You

Shanks rolled his eyes when you continued to ignore his welcoming call from his place at the bar. He'd found you once again on a small chain of islands outside of the Sabaody Archipelago after you had run away from his proposal to come with him and join his crew again on the last island he had made port at. But Shanks had found you, just like he always did.  

The Yonko smiles when he recalls how the two of you met. Shanks had saved you from some sleazy old man trying to buy you a drink on some island he had forgotten the name of some six years after losing his arm to save Luffy. Shanks couldn't put into words why you had caught his attention and held it. Maybe it was the way you dismissed him whenever he found you again. No one said no to Red Haired Shanks after all. No one but you.

You pretend that you haven't heard the redhead call your name and continue on your way back to the hotel that you'd rented for the night. However, you don't get very far before a familiar oppressive presence appears by your side. He wrapped his arm around your waist and swung into your field of view to give you a drunken grin, "Told you that I would find you, Sugar," he purred in greeting.

You sigh and attempt to shrug him off, but the Yonko just tugs you closer, "Don't know what you're talking about, Shanks," you quip. You are aware of how attractive this man is, but you also know that nothing between the two of you could ever end well. There was already a target on your back since he could never leave you alone.

Shanks scoffs and moves your hair away from your neck with his nose so that he can leave a trail of kisses along the sensitive flesh, "Don't play dumb, Mama," he murmurs and sucked an easy hickey on the side of your neck while his hand dropped down to squeeze your ass, "I know you're a lot smarter than that."

You wince at the harsh treatment and try to pull away again, but the pirate captain just tightens his grip on your hip and turns you so that you can see his face and the mean grin full of teeth and dark promises he saves just for you, "Not this time, Sugar. I'm not letting you go this time."

Panic floods your system, and this time you start to struggle against the Yonko, but it all is just a useless endeavor to fight someone as strong as Shanks. You are captured with nowhere else to run, and you can already see the freedom you have slipping away like grains of sand through your fingers. 

The Yonko scoffs again and then turns the two of you around to lead the way back to the Red Force and then inside the captain's cabin. He didn't want to be disturbed by anyone, nor could he have you trying to run away again.

Inside the cabin, Shanks takes your right hand and presses kisses to each of your knuckles and then does the same to your other hand. You are taken aback but his sweet behavior and wonder if you could have been wrong about the redhead, "I've wanted you for a long time, but you know that already, huh," Shanks says your name like a sin and a shiver runs up your spine at the breathy sound. 

The Yonko pushes you into his bed and admires the way you look all spayed out on his sheets. He climbs over you, lean frame settling on your hips and Shanks grins down at you, "Gosh, You're so beautiful, Doll," he murmurs and reaches forward to brush your hair away from your flushed face, "And now I don't have to wait anymore."

You cover your face with the crook of your elbow to hide your embarrassment. You don't want to watch anything of what happens next. Shanks laughs at you but shrugs. He was confident that you would like everything that he wanted to do to you. 

He shimmies down until he sits on the bed between your legs and then hooks his fingers under the hem of your shirt. It's tossed to the floor and Shanks admires your exposed tits, "No bra? You dirty girl, " Shanks teases and then pinches your erect nipple. Your leggings and underwear are next, the pirate ripping the fabric in his haste to get them off you. You lay bare under one of the most dangerous men in the Grand Line and shiver at the power that rolls off him in waves.   

You bite your lip to suppress any noise you might make. You refused to give Shanks any kind of satisfaction... which would prove to be your undoing.

With ease, Shanks flips the two of you and manhandles your legs so that they sit on either side of his face and then leans in to press kisses and bites to the inside of your thighs, "Ah, this is a much better view," he purrs and you stare down at him with wide eyes. He grins at your shocked expression and then proceeds to flatten his tongue and lick a stripe over your entire cunt. 

"Sh-Shanks!" You shout a bow forward, hands landing on the fluffy pillows that support his head.

"Yeah, Sugar?" Shanks asks innocently and cocks his head like he was confused why you had interrupted him, "Something the matter?" 

Before you can even think to answer, the stupid man dives right back in, tongue wiggling to stroke over each fold and crease with a hum of satisfaction. He ignores your clit for now, wanting you to wait for the best part just like you made him do for six years. You get wet fast, and Shanks realizes that he could spend eternity between your legs, pussy drunk for the rest of his life. 

"Gosh," Shanks breaths when he finally comes up for air, "You taste better than I could ever imagine, Mama," then he is right back down, groaning almost louder than you are as he focuses on how much you leak for him. 

Shanks eats you out like a man on a mission, sighs, and moans leaving him as he laps at your core, sucking and pulling at your lower lips to the point his entire lower face is drenched in your slick. You are overwhelmed by his attention, mouth open in a silent moan as you clutch at the pillows and his red hair for dear life. His hand tucks under his ass and lifts you with ease. Shanks fucks in and out of your hole with his tongue, lowering you and helping you spear yourself on his tongue. 

The Yonko doesn't stop until he can feel your thighs shaking around his face, and he slowly lowers you until you rest on his chest. His lips come away from your pussy with an obscene slurp then he is wrapping them around your clit. His tongue curls around the swollen nub and suckles gently and your hand clinches so hard in his hair he knows that you came away with some of his red hair.

Shanks suddenly pulls away with a lewd pop, resting his face on your thigh and staring up at you with a blissed-out expression. His dark eyes shine with his feelings for you, and you can't sort through the mass of emotions that swirl in his depths. You wouldn't call what the captain feels for your love, but you could see affection there, but the man just seemed satisfied, as if was truly happy to have finally gotten his way after so long. He grins and kisses your thigh, "You should see yourself, Babygirl," Shanks coos and then makes a show of licking his lips clean. 

"F-fuck you, Shanks," You hiss through your teeth and do your best to avoid his taunting gaze and satisfied gaze. 

Shanks laughs, "That's the plan, Doll," he says and then delves right back in to eat you out to his heart's content. He loves the taste of you on his tongue and the way your thighs keep clinching around his face. He doesn't stop until you are quivering above him, legs quaking and arms shaking from holding yourself up for so long. Your pussy aches from his nonstop attention, but Shanks still hasn't let you come. 

"Sh-Shanks, please," You whine softly, breaking the silence of the room. You bring yourself to look down at him and damn him if he doesn't have that innocent look plastered all over his face again. How can he look like that after spending god knows how long between your legs? 

"Yeah?" The pirate draws it out, tone all childlike as he grins up at you with delight shining in his dark eyes, "Please, what?"

You sigh through your know harshly and glare down at him. Any embarrassment you had previously disappears in your rising frustration, "Make me come!" You nearly shout at him. Your face burns and your chest heaves as you stare down at Shanks. 

"Can do, Mama," Shanks purrs and then he was flipping you again. Your hips are propped up by a mountain of pillows and Shanks settles back between your thighs. He balances on his knees and leans forward to suck your clit into his mouth, hand inching forward and two fingers stroke your soaked hole. A groan leaves his throat when he presses in, and Shanks marvels at how tight you are. 

He begins a steady rhythm and a mean laugh erupts from his chest when the Yonko glances at your face to see that you are watching the way his fingers disappear in and out of your cunt. His hand glistens with your cream and the room echos with lewd sounds that come straight from your pussy. The more Shanks watches, the more he begins to wonder. 

Shanks suddenly leans up and into your face, "How many other people have seen this pretty pussy?" He asks and you can hear the displeasure in his voice. You try and cover your face but you can't with how close Shanks is to you. You recognize the intimidation tactic, but it still works and you quickly stop. His hand has slowed to a stop and you look up to see him frowning down at you, "Be honest, or I'll stop."

You doubt he would ever stop now that he has you, but you know better than to not answer him, "Two others," you say so softly that Shanks almost misses what you say. Rage thrums in his chest at your admission. How could you? You knew how much Shanks wanted you, see how he chased after you whenever you ran away from him. He's protected you from some sleazeball more than once before they could even become a problem, and this is how you repay him? 

The Yonko breaths deep and then starts up the pace he'd had just a second ago, "What are their names? When did it happen?" He asks and keeps his voice casual even though he knows that his haki has slipped, making the cabin feel oppressive. 

"I ah-haa don't remember," You lie, and the second those words leave your lips, you realize your mistake. You should have never even thought of trying to lie to this man. 

Shanks rips his hand from your cunt and your jaw is being snatched, held tight between calloused fingers as he forces you to stare up at him, "Think real careful about lying to me again, Babygirl," He rumbles and his tone is dark and furious. You can feel the jealousy dripping off Shanks at just the thought of you sleeping with other men. Despite your feelings for the redhead, you can't help but feel a little flattered. Your face is squeezed and you are reminded that Shanks still wants an answer. 

"Edward was the first, two years after we met," You breathe when he relaxes his hand on your jaw. His fingers find your core again and he sits back far enough so that he can watch the way your pussy sucks his fingers right back in like they belonged there. He rewards your honesty with a particularly hard thrust of his hand and grins cruelly when you gasp sharply. He wants so badly to just sink his cock into your tight heat, but he needs to see this through. Needs to make sure you know who you belong to. 

Shanks nods once so you swallow thickly and continue, "Navine was eight months ago," your tone is thick and guilty and you wonder when Shanks had started to make you feel bad for him. Maybe it was the way he looked at you. Even now, as you spill your sex life to him, Shanks looks at you as if you had hung the moon and stars in the sky. But behind that, you can see hurt there, betrayal even, and it makes your chest tighten in unpleasant emotions.

"All those years," Shanks speaks and he is monotone at first, but anger and hurt begin to leak out and you tremble in the face of it, "You could have been sailing with Me, but instead you wanted to be out there, spreading your legs like some common whore."

Shock courses up your spine and tears spring to your eyes immediately. Never had the Yonko spoken a harsh word to you in all your time knowing him, but it still surprised you with how much it hurt. You are crying like a baby before you know it and you bite your lip and clinch your eyes as that would be enough to stop the hurt from consuming you. 

"I was good, ya know?" Shanks continues and his pace becomes rough. He couldn't let you just forget about this. He wanted you to feel the way he felt, "I didn't touch another woman the entire time, but you? Shanks lets out a dismissive laugh, "You couldn't keep your legs shut."

A sob breaks through whatever defense you had left and you reach for him, hands clutching at his back and shoulders as you whine and cry. He was right. How could you have not seen the way the Yonko cared for you? 

"I-I'm sorry, Shanks," You whine low and it sounds pitiful and like music to the Yonko's ears. He leans into your touch and soaks in the way you clutch at him. You feel awful for throwing his obviously real feelings in his face time after time. For sleeping with other men instead of Shanks, the one who had chased you all the way from the East Blue, "I'm yours, Shanks. I won't run again."

And just like that, the man you have always known is suddenly there. He lights up in childlike delight, smile beaming and he leans down to press the sweetest kiss you've ever reviewed to your lips. His fingers curl and brush against that sweet spot hidden deep within you, and you groan, mouth opening just enough for the Yonko to shove his tongue into your mouth. You kiss him back, sucking gently on his tongue as you grind down on his hand. 

Shanks breaks the kiss, though he doesn't go very far, "Oh, Sugar," he coos and kisses your tear-streaked face, "Say that again for me, won't you?" 

You nod easily, "Yours, Shanks. No one else's," You murmur and you don't see his victorious grin that lights up his face., "I'll join your crew." 

Fuck! That he had not expected, but like hell would he complain. He slips his hand out from between your legs then grabs your face and crashes his lips into yours with a low whine of his own. He shoves his tongue deep, sliding over your teeth and flexing against your own so much that saliva wells up and spills over, turning the kiss into a wet mess. 

He releases your jaw to grab his pants and shove them down far enough that his cock springs out. He shuffles forward and nudges the head against your soaked lips. Shanks takes his time, sliding his dick through your lips and making sure his length is coated in your slick. Once he deems himself slicked up enough, Shanks lines up and sinks himself balls deep in one harsh thrust. 

You yell his name, mouth dropping open as Shanks takes everything and more that you are willing to give him. He is loud, grunts and moans spilling out of his throat as he loses himself. You are perfect, so tight and warm around his cock that he never wanted to leave. Shanks ruts deeply, grabbing your leg to lift it over his hip so that he can sink impossibly deeper. Your cunt flutters around him and he slides his hand up over your leg and hip to your stomach where he begins to gently press down. The extra pressure has you throwing your head back in a sigh and Shanks grins meanly down at you. 

"Feel that, Mama?" He pants out and presses down harder so that he can really feel the way he moves inside you, "Better get used to it, 'cause I'll never have enough of this sweet pussy." 

His pace suddenly becomes brutal and you are reminded that Shanks had not had sex with another woman the entire time he'd chased you. You clinch around him at the thought and then pull him down so that you can press kisses to wherever you can reach. You had a lot to make up for, and you wanted to let him know that you were up to that challenge.

Shanks shifts again to get a better hold of your hip and he fucks into you with reckless abandon and you are so so close, you just need a little bit more, and then you would be there.

The Yonko must be able to sense your thoughts, for his hand finds your clit and his thumb begins a fast pace. You don't last long, especially with the way Shanks leans down and whispers, "That's it babygirl," he angles his hips and strikes that spot again and you see stars, "Come all over my cock." 

And come you do, with a cry of his name, you clench around his cock and gush around him, staining your thighs and the sheets below. Shanks ruts into you, chasing his own release with your warm body that still clings to him. He wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tightly as he finally comes with a whine of your name. 

Shanks pumps you full, the man so pent up from waiting that he has an obscene amount of his come leak out of your fucked out hole. You sigh at the feeling of it sliding down your thighs, but Shanks is shaking his head, "Uh-uh, Mama," He coos and your eyes widen when he pulls his cock out. He scoops up his spend and then proceeds to shove it back into your fluttering hole, "We can't be wasteful." 

He doesn't stop until he's stuffed as much of his cum back into your cunt as possible and then his fingers stay there, massaging your gummy walls until another orgasm rises up and shudders through your body, "Look at that, so proud of you, Sugar," He coos down at you and you don't know how to feel about the way his praise makes you feel giddy inside. 

A yawn breaks you out of thinking about your complicated feelings, and Shanks begins to move you off the mountain of pillows and into a more comfortable position. He shucks his clothes off and doesn't worry about cleaning up. He wraps his arm over your waist and snuggles up to your back, a grin on his face at getting to be the big spoon. He kisses the back of your neck, "Get some rest, Babygirl," he whispers and your tired body is already half asleep so you don't feel the way his cock hardens against your back, "We are far from done."

[radioisntdead]

Happy Father's Day folks! I bring you Alastor, Vox and Husk dad headcanons because the original fic I was writing wouldn't be done in time so that'll be posted eventually.

Alastor

Well it looks like someone got picked up off the streets! You!

I love the accidentally became a dad trope for Alastor, he just causally stumbled upon you and then couldn't get rid of you.

Occasionally tries to get you to sign your soul to him especially if you have potential to become someone great and powerful.

Fails to optain your soul EVERY SINGLE TIME, L, sucks for him.

The only screentime you get is when the hotel has movie nights or whenever anyone that's not Alastor is babysitting you lets you watch cartoons.

Teaches you how to cook Louisianan dishes, like how his mother taught him.

I imagine he reads you the original version of the grimm brother fairy tales.

You get him this shirt and he wears it as a pajama or whenever Lucifers near by.

He doesn't seem like the type to drive but if he does he plays jazz and talks about it like how dad's talking about rock or whatever they listen to.

Dad jokes, dad jokes galore.

Vox

Firstly I am so sorry that you're an iPad kid!

Does NOT LEAVE YOU ALONE with Valentino,

Depending if you're biological child from his time alive or not you might actually have a screen head.

iPad kid, iPad Dad.

Valentino is smart enough to know that he's not to mess with you but it's Valentino.

Velvette is either your aunt, older sister figure or cousin figure.

Definitely gives you all the latest electronics.

I'm pretty sure you're a nepotism baby here so you wanna star in a movie? A regular NON- Valentino film? You're the main character! You wanna start a singing career? Hatsune Miku who?

You probably have your own show on his TV programs.

Someone upsets you? You're whipping out your phone and calling Daddy.

Like my other Dad vox headcanons, You just chill out in his office at times, or chill out in the back while he's hosting a meeting popping in with your two cents every once in awhile.

In the totally unlikely event that he gets taken out during extermination, you get Voxtech.

Husker

If you're underage he's not giving you drinks, doesn't matter that you're both in hell, you're not drinking underage!

He's definitely the type of dad to let you take a sip from his beer during like new years or something though but like not a whole bottle.

I personally headcanon that he's been divorced like twice and has at least two kids so who knows you might have a sibling running around somewhere!

I imagine you're also a cat, meow.

He's actually a decent dad, definitely supports you in whatever you wanna do although grumpily.

Has a picture of you as a baby in his wallet, or hat.

You mention you like that specific brand of chips? He's getting you some every time he goes to the store.

Your favorite soda is A PAIN TO FIND? and it's only at specific stores? He gets you a couple of them whenever he sees them.

Teaches you magic tricks and also how to gamble,

He taught you everything he knows.

Happy Father's Day folks! I hope you have a wonderful day and spend time with your fathers/father figures or if you don't have one of those that you have a good day regardless,

Despite the oddly common assumption, I do infact have a Dad, so I will be hanging out with my dad until he has to leave because he's going to a game, as always thank you for tuning in!

Psst! You should totally join our discord server!

[lexii282]

Hi hi!! ✨

This is my first short story maybe? That I’ve written and posting! And of course it's about Mr. Burrow himself because good lord 🥵

It is not proof read so this is your warning. If you see anything lmk! I don’t mind constructive criticism.

Go easy on me and hope you enjoy 🫶🏼

Untouchable

Warnings; none

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I woke up to the feeling of something trailing along the inside of my thighs as I lay there asleep. At first, I don’t realize what it is until I force the sleepy haze aside and concentrate only to put the pieces together. I'm in the hotel room that he rented and It’s his lips pressing against my skin gently just enough so I could feel it and wake up. His hands moved softly up and down my hips to my sides. Slightly massaging the parts he decides to stop at.He finally decides to stay focused on my hips just where the waistband of my underwear lay at and start to pull them down only to be stopped by my hands on top of his.

“And here I thought you had enough last night Burrow” I let a small smile grace my lips

He pops his head up with a smug smile and kisses his way up my body to finally land right next to my lips. Bringing my hands above my head trapped by his holding them down and finally says

“If you’re tapping out sweetheart that’s all you gotta say. Just tell me how you can’t take anymore and need a break” A small laugh bubbles out of me

“Joey please you and I both know we can keep it going but we both have places to be and people to see”

“And none of them are you in this bed dressed like this so I don’t care (y/n/n). He hovers above me with that same smug expression that I’ve grown to love in the past couple of months.

I stare back up at him

“Easy there. You’re starting to sound like you actually might have a crush on me”

He rolls his eyes and lays beside me and I turn to look at him.

“I like having your presence around. There’s nothing wrong with that.” he shrugs.

“Mhm. Just remember the deal okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt lover boy”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head sweetheart I’m the last one you need to worry about catching feelings.”

I smile. “Good. Then I’m getting in the shower.”

“Can I join??” He asks as I was shutting the door

“Nope!” I hear his laugh right after

I stand under the shower head letting the hot water ease my muscles. The stress of the past couple of weeks catching up to me after leaving it behind for a few hours last night.

When you’re chasing your dreams you never truly believe everything they say about how you’ll miss the calm and stability you had in your life before you got everything you wanted. I guess that’s where Joe comes in for me. Since really being in the spotlight I never felt more alone and like no one understands. Of course, I love what I do but I just could never imagine how lonely I would feel.

Joe Burrow the QB for the Bengals. We met at a mutuals party one night when I was in town visiting my family and we hit it off. The conversation flowed and we had a lot in common. I felt like I could be myself for once and didn’t have to hold back. Eventually, too many drinks were consumed and we made our way back to his place via Uber because drunk driving? I could never.

We made it up to his room and I made myself comfortable on his bed while he had to go get something. Presumably a condom and finally when he comes back in the room hyped and ready just one look is all it takes to kill his mood. Why you ask?

Well, I would love to answer that question (hint the sarcasm). I had fallen asleep. One of the most embarrassing things I could have done and I did it in front of the Joe burrow. I’ve had a crush on the guy ever since he started playing for the team and I finally get my chance and I go and fuck it up. He made sure to tell me all about it the next day and loves to still bring it up to this day. We’ve since made this a recurring thing whenever we’re both in town or free to fly wherever the other one may be. It’s been easier meeting up with me being on a break but eventually, it’s going to come to an end with me going back to recording this new album.

Just a few months ago I had finished my arena tour and decided to take time off to really take everything in. All the accomplishments I was able to achieve just like I’ve always wanted and of course, I just wanted to take time away to spend with my friends and family. It’s been hard but it’ll be worth it.

“Hey, I need to head out. I’ll see you later though right?” Joe says opening the door not to mention scaring me a little. I almost forgot where I was so lost in my thoughts. I poke my head out while using the shower curtain to keep the rest of my body covered.

“Uh, what’s later?”

“Some of the guys are meeting up at that club. Ya know the new one they just opened a few weeks ago. I was telling you about it last night. “ He comes closer to me jokingly pulling on a string of wet hair. I slap his hand away before saying

“Riiight. I don’t know Joe. Don’t you think it might be weird that we’re there together? You know how the media is not to mention the fans.”

“Why would it be weird unless you make it weird (y/n/n). We’re friends. Nothing wrong with that. Don’t make it a bigger deal than it has to be” He shrugs

“I’m not. But we said when we started this that nobody would know about us hanging out. I think being spotted together at a club of all places will raise a few questions.”

“Listen it’s a new place and we both by coincidence wanted to check it out on the same night. I don’t think it would be all that weird. Just don’t get jealous when you see all the ladies around me yeah?” He lets a smug smile form.

I roll my eyes. Cocky asshole.

“Shut up and get out of my bathroom Burrow. I don’t have time for your games. He lets out a laugh. That sound has quickly become one of my favorite sounds.

“If I recall correctly I paid for this room so therefore it’s my bathroom sweetheart.” He pauses and then continues.

“Just don’t think too much about it alright? Go out with your friends get a couple of drinks and oh look! Quarterback, Joe Borrow is here. He's hot maybe we should go say hi”

“Do you think your head will explode if it gets any bigger?”

“Nah but I’m sure you’d like to think it would.” He leans down and kisses my cheek and starts walking out.

“I’ll see you later sleeping beauty”

“Jerk!” I yell out. You fall asleep once during a hookup and you never live it down. Unbelievable.

[tricktster]

how long have you been getting burritoed... i love the thought of you guys being together for five years and you still fall for it every time

Slightly NSFW warning but the full backstory for the burritoing is honestly very sweet and i can take absolutely no credit for it being so.

so it has not been five years, it’s only been five months, but given that my tolerance for being in relationships can usually be measured in weeks, five months with me harboring every single desire to keep this going is saying something. but rest assured the burrito thing has always been a threat in this relationship. lemme explain.

see, i met my boyfriend the most romantic way a person can, in that i hopped on tinder one friday when I was bored and he was the most interesting person that night to ask me to grab a drink with him the following week. I agreed, with every expectation that this was going to be a one night stand situation. This was because I had already concluded I would probably sleep with him since he was hot and funny over tinder/text but also, more importantly, because I had decided to plunge back into the dating world after several years of being resolutely single by having what my roommate described as “a wanton winter,” which is a nicer way of saying that I was here to sleep around without any strings remotely attached. I had every intention of this being followed by a slutty spring, sexually-available summer, and perhaps even a fuckboi fall.

All this to say, I was not looking for an actual relationship when I agreed to “grab a drink” with the man who is now my boyfriend. In fact, even though he was categorically hunky all-round? I was by this point in my wanton winter not even optimistically hoping for a good time. I had recently re-discovered that hunky meant absolutely nothing, and was still haunted by memories of sleeping with an extremely attractive massage therapist who was not only terrible in bed but also read me a very bad poem that he’d written afterwards and started crying about the state of his life at one point and also his mom called like 11 times while he was over. Like, my expectations were subterranean.

Now given this background, i presumed that this guy would follow the established pattern set by every other guy i’d hooked up with during wanton winter; we’d go back to my place, fool around, he’d leave, and i’d get occasional “u up” texts from him for the next few weeks until one of us ghosted etc. so like it was a surprise - but certainly not an unpleasant one! - when he asked (a little nervously) post-hookup if he could stay the night. he didn’t want to impose, he explained, but he had a day shift the next morning and it was really late and his house was 24 minutes away and while he didn’t want to be presumptuous he’d thrown what he needed in a backpack just in case and also he wanted to cuddle and be big spoon.

well. this was a deviation. this possibly suggested more interest than just a one night stand.

ideologically i was opposed to the threat this posed to my no commitments wanton winter lifestyle but given that he was significantly cuter and funnier in person than he’d been online and also that he had just absolutely rocked my entire world for several hours(!!!) i was just like “yeah homie you are more than welcome to stay,” and decided against issuing my standard warning whenever anyone proposes sharing a bed with me that “I do not tolerate people attempting to cuddle me in my sleep well so don’t be hurt when you find me as far from you as physically possible tomorrow, and also you may be kicked in the process of me rolling away, and my toenails are inexplicably sharp so you may bleed.”

and then, you know, suddenly the alarm was going off, and he was extracting himself, unwounded, from the big spoon position that I had not felt the unconscious need to escape from all night, and I was just internally like “haha! i might be in trouble!”

that mighta done it on its own, honestly, the whole bit about him being the sole exception i have ever encountered to my instinctual need for space when i’m sleeping. but he was not done. he quietly got ready while i was mulling this development over in a state of half consciousness, and then? instead of slinking out into the barely-morning, that motherfucker very gently rearranged the bedclothes to actually cover me, gave me a kiss, said he’d text me when he got to work, and then the bastard tucked me in.

he then left me, the victim of the cutest goddamn nonsense that has ever happened after a tinder hookup, to process this unexpected turn of events.

I concluded that I was, in fact, in trouble.

so like… needless to say, that act of tucking me in was the death knell for my wanton winter, as well as my adversarial relationship with the concept of developing feelings. I am an extremely crotchety housecat that doesn’t like to be crowded who has unprecedentedly fallen incredibly hard for a wildly enthusiastic golden retriever, and our relationship is foundationally based upon this man’s desire to make me all snug and cozy before he leaves.

the burrito aspect was merely an afterthought. it’s all about the tuck-in babey.

[cowgirlcherrie]

hiii :) i was wondering if you could do headcanons of modern! ellie

Hiii lovie of course!!!! ♡♡

a/n: this is kinda drabble-ish but would love to do more of these, so keep requesting them LOL! This is a little sporadic but I love it, so I hope you enjoy <3

warnings(?): not really much mostly fluff sfw, with slight suggestive undertones but really if you squiiint

modern! Ellie headcanons

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

♡ Ellie would definitely be in college, part of her doesn't know fully why she applied but she was giving it a shot

♡ totally an undecided major, science? teaching? psychology? She really doesn't know at first but settled on psychology so she could get her degree

♡ makes you wear a necklace with her initial on it (totally possessive)

♡ magically always had weed, which was also confusing at first but she just had that good of connections around town with local plugs and dispensaries.

♡ always has a blunt tucked behind one ear

♡ makes you trim her hair because she doesn’t trust anyone else touching anything on her body.

♡ always loosing her lighter so you bedazzled it and she literally never lost it after that, she would rather die before losing that lighter now

♡ if you have stuffed animals, she tries to remember their names but gets them wrong every time

♡ A few months into dating when labels were now on the relationship, would gift you little things and act like it wasn't her.

♡ once gifted you pre-rolled blunts and you were definitely confused but before you could give them back would kiss your cheeks before saying "No take backs"

♡ keys jingle when she walks, and it's loud asf too!!

♡ whenever you can't find her she's definitely in the gym

♡ low-key would get addicted to going in her free-time ( gym rat ellie ?????)

♡ definitely rubs your back while you are studying or working from home, keeps one arm rubbing circles in your lower back and another on her phone, she enjoyed the comfort of being close even though you kept shushing her. (she’s definitely playing subway surfers or scrolling on tiktok)

strong believer that she would accidentally get tiktok famous, but everything she would post after that one thirst trap would be just videos of you

♡ loves dressing you up, quite literally sits at the edge of the bed while you try on different clothes leaning back as you come out of the bathroom,

"Twirl for me doll,"

" I love that color, you should wear that more often"

♡ one day when you see her playing guitar and beg on her lap that you want to learn, Ellie will literally take you to the guitar center the next day to get you your very own

♡ spoils the crap out of you!!!!!

♡ lovesss teasing you and resting her hands on your upper thigh especially when you wear something revealing like skirts or shorts, she tucks her hand way too close up.

♡ touchy touchy touchy! always has to be touching you somehow

♡ leaving kisses on your neck 24/7 because of the way you jump when her lips touch your skin

♡ skincare nights go so crazy, took a lot of convincing, but will be right next to you with a facemask on while you watch a good show

♡ definitely dominant 80% of the time

♡ pet name Warriorrrr ( baby this...doll that) she literally doesn't stop

♡ if you ever go to a party together definitely shares alcohol with you so you don't drink too much

♡ if you are drunk after will take your make-up off and do your night time routine for you

♡ wakes up late as fuck!!! totally wakes up at 2pm like its nothing

♡ definitely mean to everyone else but you.

I'm talking about glaring at people 24/7, crazy attitudes, and people basically asking for permission before they speak.

♡ whenever she catches you doing your natural hair, begs to help which results in her wanting to do it every washday

♡ at first, Ellie didn't understand the hype behind matching fits but does it just for you

♡ overall Ellie is just a simp for you like literally only cares about you, weed, and getting money

[alphabetboyluvr]

throttle - jjk | six

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - heavy on the angst, we finally learn jungkook's true motives, we learn about what happened to his mother, mentions of death, written before we knew jk's birth time so (1) inaccurate saturn placement, general smut, titty sucking, unprotected sex, very intense breeding thoughts from jk, it's angsty!! he dnf :( sad :(, hair dye, showering, fingering, jungkook's time runs out </3

throttle has 3 defined acts - this is the end of act 1

word count - 20k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

It's warm when you wake.

Daylight pours in through the curtains, of which neither of you bothered to close last night, and it rudely intrudes on the intimacy you've fostered together - yet when the man beside you begins to stir, small squeaks signalling that he's now awake too, you don't seem to mind all that much.

His hair is tousled like the waves of Busan's shoreline, lapping against the sand, adding a soundtrack to the sound of his breathing. You love it when he looks like this; serene and secure in the sanctuary of your company.

Last night's tête-à-tête is a distant memory, chalked up to a misunderstanding between the minds of two lovers who aren't yet aligned, but are getting pretty close to it. Rome wasn't built in a day, and nor was any love worth withstanding the test of time.

You're still learning about one another. Prior to last night, you knew nothing of Jungkook's romantic past, and while part of you is smug to have your initial assumptions about him proven right, it also makes your chest feel all heavy, too. Melancholic, almost, but you think it sounds far too poetic.

When you're met with his drowsy morning gaze - all puffy and unable to open in the way his eyes typically do - you can't imagine anyone ever wanting to hurt him. The thought of his eyes turning black when he looks at you, instead of their usual deep chocolate brown, has the chime in your stomach ringing like an alarm bell. You never want that. Ever.

He yawns, and says good morning to you with a smile that seems almost surprised to still see you in the sheets with him. He pulls you a little closer, nestles his nose to the crown of your head and inhales. He'll never get sick of that scent. Sick of you.

You're like gasoline spilt in the forecourts before a spring shower. It'll wrangle with the puddles of rain, which will pour and pour and pour - but still, it'll remain. An iridescent rainbow that refuses to fade.

You'll never wash away, he thinks. Forevermore; eternal.

He knows, just like you predicted, that he'll think of you whenever he passes gasoline puddles. Five, ten, twenty years from now. It won't matter how distant the memory of your laughter becomes, nor if he even remembers the colour of your skin as it blushes after a few too many drinks.

What he will remember is how your hair always smelt like gasoline.

It's a gateway drug to everything you are. One sniff; he's hooked.

Though he doesn't wish for death often, he hopes that when he does go, it'll be in his car. Hopes that an oil slick on a wet road will be the reason why. He'll smile as he thinks of you for one final time.

You'll get your vengeance, love.

But why waste time thinking of the inevitable future, when he could just revel in the present?

He's the first to suggest sleeping in, staying together, for a little bit longer.

"I'll call my dad, see if we can switch to this afternoon instead. You cool to run your errands in the afternoon? I'll take you to that place I wanna show you this morning. Then you're free to do as you please with your day."

A nod grants permission for him to set about altering his plans, and you watch him with curious intrigue as he opens up his contacts and heads straight for his father. You don't even have your father's number, anymore.

It's oddly comforting to hear Jungkook on the phone with his dad. The call is short, more formalities than anything, but you can hear his father's voice vibrate through the speaker.

You're integrated into Jungkook's life, now, you think. You're a part of family affairs, his plans, without even so much as a second thought given.

'Thank you' seems like a strange thing to say, but you consider it.

His openness with you is rancid. So sweet, so sickly; enough sugar to rot even the most frigid of hearts.

It makes you wanna tell him everything; who your father is, and how you can't call him anymore. You think Jungkook would understand, or at least he'd try to - and that would be the most meaningful thing a man has done for you in quite some time (though you're sure Yoongi would disagree, and cite one of the many things he's done for you that have gone unnoticed).

The words you want to say to Jungkook are lost in the feather down quilt, expert seams flawlessly keeping the pair of you pristine. It's like a shield, in a way. The world can't hurt you when you're beneath it. The needlework is exquisite, the finest cotton - Egyptian, you assume, but know better than to ask.

Not because you don't want to know, but because Jungkook hates itches he can't scratch.

He wouldn't have a clue of the sheets origins, but you're almost positive he would ask the reception staff for clarification later that morning, just to be able to give you an answer.

You don't want to trouble his mind with such trivial things. Especially not if it's working as hard as yours seems to be right now. You're counting every thread - two, four, six, eight - just as a way to distract yourself from him.

He's playing with your hair, and asking about your dreams - you didn't have any - and it's getting pretty overwhelming just how much of your brain you seem to be willing to share with him.

Sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four; you're asking about his, too, and he doesn't hesitate to answer.

He's talking shit about a praying mantis that stalked him as he slept, and reaches for his phone so that you can google what it means together. He doesn't hide his screen, doesn't clear his notifications, doesn't check what he was last searching for to spare himself from embarrassment.

Not that it matters, but he'd been checking to see if Lotte World was open. It's endearing, the way he seems to want to experience life with you. Comforting. Snug.

You lose count of the threads, and you don't care to start again.

"Positive and negative," Jungkook muses over his dream as he scrolls, holding his phone up in front of you both.

His arm is looped around the back of your neck, and you're busy watching the tendons of his wrist flex beneath his skin as his thumb flicks up and down the screen.

There are Seven Natural Wonders of the World, but you think the adjudicators must have gotten it wrong.

They clearly hadn't met Jeon Jungkook.

He's brighter than the Northern Lights; gets you higher than the peak of Mount Everest. More breathtaking than the Grand Canyon, more fire in his heart than Paricutin. Gets you wetter than Victoria Falls, but that's not really what constitutes him as being one of the greatest natural wonders of the world (though it surely helps). He rivals the Great Barrier Reef, and Guanabara Bay; expansive, a facilitator of life, new beginnings.

But the Great Barrier Reef is dying, and Guanabara Bay is the product of erosion. Everest is a death trap, the Grand Canyon too, and Paricutin forced hundreds from their homes. Droughts around Victoria Falls are threatening its very existence, and soon, what once was could be no more.

The only wonder worthy of comparison to Jeon Jungkook is Aurora Borealis. They burn brighter than before, making their way through their eleven-year cycle undisturbed, undimmed. They're magic in the mundane, and so is he.

He hums, unaware of how you're romanticising him to be far more than what he is, and it sounds like he's frowning. You reach over, thoughts absent, and take his phone to continue reading for him.

"To dream of a praying mantis could mean many things," you recite mindlessly. "Firstly, it could indicate that you need to remain calm and assess situations before you dive right in. Be patient. Alternatively, it could indicate that you are preying on others. Have you been calculated recently? Devious? Perhaps reflection is due. There are positive indications associated with the insect, though. A baby praying mantis suggests a bright, wise future ahead. To dream of being attacked by a praying mantis suggests that you are faced with a test that you are strong enough to pass."

You ignore all the bad, because of course you do, pass him back his phone and say, "see? Nothing to worry about."

He locks his phone, and lets it drop down onto the bed. The hushed clunk of it hitting your sheets is drowned out by his voice, all dulcet and dreamy in your ear.

"Wasn't worried, baby. Got you here with me." His lips press against your temple. "I got you."

Hook, line and sinker. Yeah, he's got you good.

But within half an hour he's got you coming undone; got you mewling his name, got you gripping his neck as he fucks himself into you like he always does so well. He's got you where he wants you, got you in missionary 'cause of that one time you lied and said it was your favourite, got your nipples in his mouth 'cause there ain't no way he can have you naked and not indulge himself just a little bit.

Jungkook has you. Has his way with you.

But you have him, too; have him whispering how gorgeous you sound, how much he loves the way you feel.

You have him coming undone.

Perhaps, neither of you 'have' nor 'has' the other.

Perhaps, you aren't commodities to be owned.

If anyone was to own you, though, you think you'd quite like it to be him. You think he'd keep you forever. He once said he would, so it's not like it's a foolish thing to daydream about.

And so you do just that as he weaves through traffic in the hustle and bustle of Busan. You think he's mad for choosing to drive instead of just getting the subway, but Busan is spread out so far that it would have taken a handful of changes to get to where he's taking you.

He's still not told you where you're going. Even when you ask for a dress code, he simply says, "as you are, baby. You're perfect."

He calls you baby a lot lately.

It used to just be when you were naked, but he calls you baby when you're all wrapped up now, too. When he puts his hand on the small of your back, to guide you in whichever direction he wants, and when he pulls your hand to rest on the gear stick beneath his, it's 'baby' that he hums.

In fact, he calls you baby so much that CC has taken a backseat.

The radio drones through the speakers, neither of you connecting to the aux. It's all very grown-up, you think, listening to the traffic news, and whatever is currently charting. It doesn't hit in the same way that your playlists do, but it reminds you of driving to the coast with your parents as a kid. The memories are fond - cherished by you - and it's how you like to think of your family.

Or at least it is, until the disk jockey segues into the morning news. There's the usual mindless garbage, celebrity gossip, upcoming festivals and community events - and then there's politics.

"The Mayor of Daegu Metropoli-" is as far as the broadcaster gets before you change the station. Jungkook doesn't react initially. In fact, it takes him a few seconds to reply, and when he does, it's inconspicuous.

"Not into politics?"

"Not into politics."

You're sharp as you deliver the lie, and Jungkook can feel the blade of your tongue slice his heart. He's deserving of it, admittedly, but you aren't aware of that. Not yet.

He switches the radio back. "I am."

You want to be sick, but you put it down to the fact that Jungkook drives a little faster than he really should do, and that breakfast had been substituted for sex. "You are?"

"Uh-huh."

Silence resume as you listen to the broadcaster. It's an innocent report about cities linking for eco-initiatives. Apparently, Daddy dearest will be visiting Busan just as you're leaving. It's an odd thought. You've taken pride in not keeping tabs, and yet here you are, wondering if you'll pass his car on Monday morning as you leave the city and he enters it. Unlikely.

A possibility, but unlikely.

When you pull your hand back to your lap from beneath his, Jungkook lets you. It's a call for attention. You want to see what he does. Want him to pull it back, want him to question why you've pulled it away - but he doesn't.

Instead, he talks.

"I hate politics," he admits. There's a sternness to his face. An honesty. "I can't name you a single politician who actually seems to care about the communities they represent. They're bastards," his voice quietens. "The lot of 'em."

Only then does he reach for your hand, again. He's the one searching for comfort, now.

There's something about the way Jungkook doesn't look at you, but grips your hand far tighter than he had done before, that has you concerned. It's unlike him.

"I agree," you tell him. "S'why I don't care for it."

He nods, pulling his bottom lip beneath his teeth, as if he's trying to stop a secret from coming out.

You wouldn't mind if one did. You'd quite like to know his secrets - even the deep, dark, scary ones. Especially those ones, actually. His jaw rocks gently, the pillow of his lip being massaged by his teeth, eyes hard on the horizon line.

"Probably should have given you a little warning as to where we're going," he eventually divulges, pouting his lips and letting air squeak through them as he inhales a breath.

Your lift your brows and furrow them slightly. "Why's that?"

The question is answered as soon as he flicks his indicator on. You look to the sign above the highway, and that's when you realise you're going off the beaten track. There's only one destination listed on the reflective sheet of metal: a marine life conservation hub.

Something tells you that you're not headed towards the marine life conservation hub.

Something - or someone- by the name of Jeon Jungkook, and the way as soon as his indicator is flicked off, his hand is holding yours oh-so-tightly, again.

Your eyes follow the trajectory of the road, and the small row of parking spaces covered in fine gravel. You're partway up a short mountain, and you know exactly why you're here.

Mounds of earth rest neat and uniform on the mountainsides, clustered together, decades of tradition lacing the soil. There's a small path that stretches to the upper elevation, where a set of mounds lie perfectly still, small statues and floral arrangements decorating them in the most beautiful of ways.

You know hillsides like these. It's been a while since you last visited one, but the memories of places like this tend to haunt people.

He doesn't reply to your earlier question. He doesn't need to. You already know exactly where you are.

His name escapes your lips, voice quiet, but pacifying. You rub his thumb with yours, which only makes him squeeze your small hand even tighter.

He's silent, but he's hoping you know that he's sorry.

Sorry for a whole host of things. Too many to list. This - taking you to a fucking graveyard unannounced and non-consenting - is what he's currently apologising for in the guise of silent squeezes.

"Your mum?" You ask, as he pulls into a space on the gravel parking lot.

He's only mentioned her once, and the fact that she would have been 'rolling in her grave' at the thought of him being rude to you. You'd clocked it at the time, but had never dared ask since. Figured that when he was ready, he would tell you. Seems like he might just be ready.

Jungkook nods, and when he looks at you, he seems younger. Eyes wider, searching for refuge; finding it in you.

"Mum."

When he makes no attempt to move, seemingly a little frozen in place, it's you who starts to squeeze his hand right back. "You wanna go see her?"

And again, he nods. There's a bottle of soju in the back from one of his many GS25 trips, so you reach for it, knowing that there was no way the pair of you could visit somewhere of such importance without an offering of some kind. He whispers a thank you, as if you've done something of value. It's just soju, and it's his, regardless. You wish you would have known. You'd have insisted on picking up banchan, or something more substantial.

There's reluctance as he leads the pair of you, second-guessing his every step. It's important that he shows you this part of him, although, when he thinks about it, he's sure he could have just explained it. Over a coffee, or on a walk by the river. He didn't need to be so dramatic about it all. The past has happened, and he lives with the consequences.

But that's this thing - the past has happened, and Jungkook is still living with the weight of it like it was just yesterday. The consequences of it rule his daily life. He needs to show you, because simply telling you wouldn't have been justice enough.

His mother's grave is well-kept. Tended to. The flowers - large, white, and glorious, though you're not sure what kind - are wilting slightly, but are fresh enough to put the dead foliage of the winter mountain to shame. The mound above her is small, so you think that perhaps she was, too.

You just can't help yourself, can you? Another assumption made.

Your thoughts are cut short as he reaches for the bottle of soju from your hands, and nods towards the small ceramic dish that's been collecting rainwater. Supplies are low - the winter is incredibly dry, and had it not been for a storm that blew in a few days ago, it would be empty.

"Can you?" he asks, but doesn't finish. You let go of the soju bottle which is now secure in his hands, and head towards the direction of his nod, to rinse off the flat stone ready for offerings - though a cap full of soju doesn't feel like enough.

He walks further ahead, while you tend to the service stone, pouring soju into the bottle cap, and tossing it in the woodland as an offering to the mountain God; a thank you for watching over his mother. It's been too long since he last visited. Things have just gotten so busy, and he's under so much pressure. He can't think straight, let alone do anything that makes any sense and - oh God, the weight of it all - it's all just too much. He can't handle it. Refuses to. If he could scream right, he would - but nothing comes out.

His lungs are heavy in his chest, heart pounding. He doesn't know why he gets like this. He thinks it's the guilt; the fact that his mother would hate what he's become. She didn't raise him to be like this. Vengeance wasn't part of her vocabulary. She was kind, and she was considerate, and she cared so deeply about him.

In a lot of ways, you remind him of her. The acknowledgement of this only serves to make him feel worse.

When he finally turns to face you again, you're waiting by her grave, watching him with curiosity. You've been to many graves, but only ever those of your own family members. Never somebody else's. Traditions vary, and you don't wanna do anything that he wouldn't appreciate.

It had always been the same in your family; the eldest men bowed first, down through to the youngest, and the women watched on. The respect of women wasn't worth anything, you see.

As Jungkook comes to stand beside you, he takes your hand, positioning you directly next to him.

"Will you do it with me?" he asks so timidly that it almost doesn't sound like him. "Please?"

You're hesitant. It's a big ask, not because it's a difficult task, but because you know the first bows are always reserved for those closest to the deceased.

"I never normally do it alone," he adds, noticing your reluctance. "I'm normally with my brother. I just... I don't want to do it alone. I'm no good at shi-" he cuts himself off, not wanting to curse. "I'm no good at stuff like this."

It's a request you can't refuse. You follow his lead, getting to your knees, torso folding to the earth as a sign of utmost respect. He holds his bow for longer than you expect, but you match it second for second. He rises and repeats. You follow suit.

You think it's important that you don't overstep boundaries, not in a place so sacred to the boy beside you, so you let him take the lead. Not once do you move before him, but when he resumes to a seated position, you turn your body to face down the mountain.

It's not tradition, not really, but it feels like the best way to honour his mother; to provide her time with her son, but still offer support should he need it.

"I'm not doing recitals," Jungkook says tenderly, a pain in his chest pinching and soothing when he sees what you've done. "You don't have to face that way."

But you shake your head.

"I do," you reply with so much kindness in your voice that Jungkook thinks it's a wonder he hasn't melted and become at one with the earth, too. "Just pretend like I'm not here."

He wants to laugh at such an instruction. How the hell could he be expected to ignore you, when the way he feels about you burns brighter than the North Star whenever you're close by.

Instead, he just tells you that you're dumb, and sits beside you, facing his mother's grave. You hear him unscrew the cap of the bottle, metal cracking just how it always does upon its first few opens, followed by a small glug.

You twist your head, and catch him pouring soju into the bottle cap, before he places it in front of his mother. He nods towards her, as if she could actually see him once more, then brings his arms to hug around his knees, pulled tight to his chest. The bottle is still in his hand, so he takes a swig. There's a faint grimace as he swallows it back, and then he passes the bottle over his shoulder to you.

It's kindly received, and his actions are mirrored by you once more, a shot finding its home in your throat. The soju is lukewarm, the heat of his clammy hands altering the temperature.

The bottle is passed back and forth, Jungkook silent as he tries to muster the courage to speak up. There's so much he wishes he could say, but so little that feels safe to divulge. It's not until the bottle is halfway done that he seems to have the strength.

"It's been four years," Jungkook eventually says. You stay silent, the words you want to say threading through your lips like cotton through a needle, keeping your mouth shut. Nothing that could be said would make any of this any better for him. "Doesn't get any easier."

Instead, you lean your head on his shoulder. You're still looking down the mountain, and he's facing up towards the peak. His head rests against yours, and there's comfort to be found in his posture. The support he feels from you goes beyond that of physical.

"It was a long time coming, so we had time to prepare," he adds.

He brought you here because he wanted to share this part of himself with you, so he knows he needs to make the effort to actually speak up. Nothing cryptic. No half-truths.

"How can you prepare a kid for that, though? 'Hey Kook, mum's really sick'," he imitates the voice of his older brother. "'Probably won't make it through the winter'. She did, though. Make it through winter, that is. The hospital couldn't figure out what was wrong with her for the life of them. First, they said it was a pancreatic thing, then decided it was liver. Kidneys, bladder - you name it, they tried to pinpoint it as that. Round and round in fucking circles. So much time wasted. Years. I was 14 when she first got sick. 19 when she passed."

He lifts his head from yours and hugs his legs tighter into his chest. He hates this mountain. It's like he's got hayfever, even in winter, as his eyes start to warm a little. Realistically, he knows that it's perfectly apt to cry in such a place, but he doesn't want to. Doesn't want his mum to think he's upset. Doesn't want you to think it, either.

Deep down - although really not that far down when he comes to think of it - he's still just that scared boy, knowing he's going to lose the person he loves the most in the world. Funny, how history likes to repeat itself, even if in a slightly different hue. The colours of grief are always the same.

"She ended up getting referred to a specialist in Daegu," he sighs, knowing that he's about to divulge far more than he should.

He's thought about this alot. Thought about what he'd say to you before he knew you - like, really knew you - and how he'd deliver the lines with such venom your throat would swell and you'd choke on the faux pars of your family, just like his mother had.

But none of this was your fault. You were still just a kid, like he was, when all of this transpired.

You had no jurisdiction over budget cuts or the shift patterns of overworked hospital staff. You weren't the one syphoning money out of the public health sector, and you weren't the one who followed orders to treat common symptoms with the same cheap medicine, regardless of the fact it could have been wrong for the patients.

You weren't the one who decided that those who benefitted from the specialist centre were expendable. You weren't the one who cauterised their funding. You weren't the one who ignored the pleas and cries for help from the families of those suffering.

You weren't the negligent medical staff who mistreated Jungkook's mother, and you weren't the man in charge of the budget who decided that her life didn't matter anymore.

But your father was.

And so Jungkook has thought about this moment a lot. He's thought about how he'd tell you that you deserved to lose just as much as he had. He's thought about how he wouldn't feel a damn thing except for satisfaction when your father got his just deserts.

Now that the time has come, however, all he can do is shrug.

"They were great. The staff at the centre in Daegu, I mean. Really fucking great. Genuinely wanted to help - but you know Daegu," is all he could really muster. "They don't have the money for shit like that. And nor did we."

Daegu's local government did, however, have the funds for a fucking waterpark installation, which opened three weeks after the clinic was shut down indefinitely. "We sacrifice the good of the few, for the good of the many," your father had once told you, and it makes you just as sick now as it did back then.

"Anyways," he tries to downplay it, as if the memories don't haunt him. "Funding got cut. Mum got sicker. It was..." he struggles to find the words to articulate just what he went through. "Dad was always a hard ass, yanno? Do your homework, go to school, you wanna end up with a shitty job? Drop out like me! That kind of stuff. It's only 'cause he wanted what was best for us, he just.... didn't really have a nurturing bone in his body. Just how he was built, I guess." He pauses. Gathers his thoughts. Shrugs. "Mum... Mum was soft. Do you need help with your homework? How's school? You can be whatever you want to be. Didn't have a clue what I wanted to be, just knew I wanted to be like her. Seeing her get sick..."

He stops talking. There's a heaviness that looms over him like a cloud blocking the sun in the height of summer. It's stuffy and claustrophobic, yet there's nothing that can be done to ease it.

"The specialist centre treated her for as long as they could, ran as many tests as they could afford, but-" He cuts himself off. "Well, I mean, we're at her grave, aren't we? Doesn't take a genius to work it out."

He doesn't mean to be so scathing with his tone, the words delivered with a snarl typically reserved for his boxing opponents (or Namjoon when he takes the lead in a drag race), it's just that he doesn't know how to articulate himself. Not when it comes to this topic. He's never shared it with anyone before. Never thought he would.

And especially not with you.

There are parts he leaves out. Just little tidbits. Anecdotes, like the way he spent the night his mother died just driving and driving and driving, only coming to a stop when his tank had exhausted the very last drop of gas - at which point he just sat, grief-stricken, cheeks wet until sunrise.

He didn't speak to anyone for weeks. Didn't do anything except fill his tank up, get out of town, and occasionally train at the club. The force of his fists against another person never helped, though. Even beating the shit out of Taehyung didn't lift his spirits.

How he quite ended up in his current predicament is a little more complicated.

It started the same as any other night he'd crawl through the streets, red tail lights leaving a trail that evaporated into nothingness, thanks to the winter fog. Eventually, he ended up in Daegu. It was a common occurrence.

The shadows seemed darker in Daegu; sinners glowing red in the haze of smog and winter frost. It felt like home in a way. Somewhere to hide when he no doubt sold his soul to the Devil.

Sometimes, he'd drive in circles around the affluent streets, just hoping, praying, to see the Mayor out for an evening stroll. Of course, it would be an accident when he put his foot to the floor, full throttle, wheels turning in the Mayor's direction. A freak mishap. A car fault.

And if he were to suffer the same fate as Jungkook's mother? Oh, well what a fucking shame that would have been.

He never did see the Mayor, though. Of course he didn't.

But he did, however, spot Kang's. The light had still been on, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. He knew Kang's, thanks to his club in back in Busan, and he wanted to fight. Wanted to pummel any fucker who voted the Mayor into power. Wanted to break their nose; have them swallowing their teeth.

Of course, seeing a jumped up kid - who, as Namjoon put it, looked 'fresh out of nappies' - with a vendetta against the most powerful man in the city had the older boys amused. Truth be told, they laughed in his fucking face. Told him he was in the wrong place, 'cause there ain't no way any of them would be caught dead voting for that pompous fucking twat.

Jungkook learnt a lot that night; learnt that he wasn't alone in his fight, and that other people had lost unfathomable amounts of their lives, their livelihoods, and their loved ones, as a result of your father, and his wasteful, inhumane policies.

Though not a single one of those boys shared the same story, they all shared the same callous, complacent antagonist.

And they all wanted vengeance.

That wasn't the only thing he learnt that night, mind you. It was also the evening he learnt your name.

It'd be romantic, if the situation had been... well, anything but what it was, really.

He learnt who you were, what you meant to the Mayor, and just how you could be the winning ticket for their vengeance lottery. A plan was devised over a few too many Soju's, and before he knew it, he was playing the long game. They wouldn't initiate the plan for years. Sleeping dogs had to lie, dust had to settle.

There was another election; your father reinstated to his position. Only after then did you stop making public appearances with him, and the rest of your family. You didn't seem to be part of the in-crowd anymore. Didn't really matter to the boys. All that mattered was that you had fewer eyes on you, now. You faded into obscurity; Jungkook into obsession.

See, he's like you in a lot of ways. He makes assumptions, too. Had this whole idea of who you would be mapped out in his head. Pin by pin, you realigned his red string; tied it around his pinky and linked it with yours.

"Dad isn't who he used to be," Jungkook finally admits. His Mother's suffering may have ended with her passing, but his Father's seemed to only begin as hers ended. She passed a baton, Jungkook thinks, and his Dad is still running the race. "Doesn't really talk all that much. Loves to fucking gamble, though. All of her life insurance is gone. Half of my salary goes to the loan sharks that he owes from a bad spot he got himself in a few months ago. S'why I needed to come, had to check that everything was okay and that he hadn't got himself into too much trouble. Nasty fuckers, sharks are."

"How bad is it?" You ask, knowing that sharks are more like parasites. "The sharks, I mean."

"Um," he pauses, and shrugs. There's no way you'll be able to understand what it's like being in financial difficulty. Not a fucking chance. "Pretty bad. They were hounding him to the point where he just locked himself up in the house, wouldn't answer the door for weeks. My brother's just had a kid, he can't afford to help, so I'm stuck footing the bill for the interest Dad's having to pay. 'Bout half my salary. I'm gonna be paying them off till I'm six feet under. Bastards raise the interest whenever they fucking feel like it. I'll never be able to pay it all back, not all of it, and Dad's too fucking out of it to get himself a proper job. Whole situation is fucked."

That's a tiny little lie. Should everything go to plan, he'll have the money he needs to pay the sharks off within a week or two.

Should everything go to plan.

See, this isn't about vengence. Not now. Not anymore. This about surviving the sharks - but Jungkook has blood on his hands, and it makes him so much more tempting.

When you lean your head on his shoulder, comforting and reassuring all in one gesture, he swallows back a sob.

He's sharing all this because he wants - no, needs - you to understand why he made the choices that he did before he knew you. He needs you to know that the guy who is going to fuck you over next week isn't the guy who's been, well, just fucking you for the past couple of months.

He rests his head on yours, hair interlinking, silky and smooth, as if you're one.

The way that he feels about you oozes from him like the blood of a fresh wound; red and hot, sticky and sickening. Yet he knows that he'll never let the wound heal. He'll pick at it like it's a scab, because he'll never want to lose the feeling that the potential of a happy ever after with you gives him.

His body relaxes a little, spine curving, posture sloped. There's no need to remain poised; no need to be anything other than the imperfect version of himself that you seem to like so much.

"I'm so sorry that this happened to you," you whisper, eyes closing to hide the foot of the mountain you're sitting on. It feels so wrong you being here. Feels like you're intruding; encroaching. Perhaps you're the parasite.

The weight that's lifted from Jungkooks shoulders presses itself against your sternum. It cracks your ribs and impales the snapped bones into your heart. It's quite aggresive, you think, for a secret.

They say a problem shared is a problem halved, so if this is only a mere fifty percent of the pain that he's endured, you don't even want to imagine his reality. Now is not a time for pitying yourself, or lamenting the fact that it was your father who ruined Jungkook's life by proxy. You're sure it wasn't your father's intention, but you also know that he wouldn't have cared had he known the impact that his choices would have.

So much is left unsaid. Nothing you can do nor say will erase the hurt caused by the man who provided for you. A private education, wanting for nothing, your heart's desires fulfilled all came at a cost. Jungkook is just one of the many receipts; ripped at the edges, ink faded, paper creased in such a fashion that it can never be undone.

The guilt will weigh on you for eternity.

There's a part of you that wants to tell him. Wants him to know who you are, where you come from, how you ended up here - but you're convinced as soon as he knows, he'll wash his hands of you. Especially now. It feels kinder to just stay silent.

And so you do. You let him process his grief, and follow his lead when he decides that enough time has been spent by his mother's side. There's little chatter as you make your way down the hillside, his hand outstretched whenever you come to a rocky patch, just in case. It seems he doesn't want you to fall.

He also doesn't mind the silence. In fact, he quite likes it. He knows you're probably uncomfortable. Burial sites aren't exactly on the itinerary list of many romantic getaways, and he's not deluding himself about your actual reason for staying silent.

You make assumptions. He knows this, and wonders if you just assume he knows who you are.

But if he tells you - for definite - that he knows, and that it's okay, and that it doesn't change a single thing about the way he feels for you, it'll be game over.

For him, for you, for God knows who else.

By keeping you in the dark, he thinks he's keeping you safe until he can figure a plan that really will ensure your safety.

The drive to the nearest subway station is silent, too. You lie about your errands, and tell him that catching a subway would be easiest, simply for the fact it is closer to you than any of the bus stops.

You just want to be out of the car.

It's not that you don't want to be with him; it's that you do. It feels wrong to lie to him, deceiving him.

Opposites attract, or so they say, but they're wrong. You're birds of a feather, apples that have fallen from the same tree, left to rot in the height of a Daegu summer.

Your day is spent without him, and yet you're utterly consumed. He's in every shop window, his laugh rattling in the exhaust pipe of every shitty car that drives past. There's no escaping Jeon Jungkook. He's not the kind of guy you can just forget.

In fact, you're so consumed by him that all you want to do is head back to your hotel and lay in wait for his return. You don't know when that will be, and refuse to text him when he's spending much needed time with those closest to him, but the idea is so tempting that you find yourself sprawled on the sheets for hours regardless.

Your day is wasted, but you think that days without him are wasted, anyway.

It's nearly seven by the time he gets home. There's a hum as a keycard is tapped outside your door, the metal of the lock grating against itself to bid the intruder of your heart a welcome entry. Your eyes move to the door, because of course they do. Watching the man you... enjoy spending time with come 'home' to you is something that you never realised you would enjoy so much.

You wonder if it's the highlight of his days, too.

The location never matters, for it's in his eyes that your find your home - though 'home' looks a little different when his eyes are all puffy and bloodshot, his dark irises acting like a curtain. The window is covered. He's hiding his soul from you.

Hard to notice, though, when his cheeks are wet, and you mistake that as his biggest vulnerability.

"Hey," you whisper, legs unfolding as you stand and walk towards him. The door shuts by itself, Jungkook not caring for it. He doesn't even toss his bag down; just kind of stands there. Sniffs. Shakes his head, goes to speak, but chokes on his words and how big they feel in his throat. "It's okay, it's okay," you reassure, a hand on his cheek, the other on his collarbone. "You're safe. What's up?"

He leans into your touch, jaw tense, eyes resting shut. It's been a long time coming, and he knows it. Wonders how the fuck he hasn't already broken. He wasn't made for shit like this; for lies and deceit, especially not when it's someone that he really cares for the will suffer the consequences of his actions.

All he wants, all ever seems to want, is to be in the shower with you. Doesn't even care about stripping bare. Wants to be saturated with the promise of purity; in the way he feels for you, how you feel for him, and how your life could be together.

There's nothing inherently sexual about his desire, though he knows he wouldn't be able to resist to the eroticism of having you naked and wet - it's just not his intention. He simply wants to be close to you. Wants to care for you. Wants to wash your hair and rinse you off; ease the burdens of everyday life.

He forgets that water isn't strong enough to cleanse him of his sins. It will run black, always, because of what he's done; what he will do. Like ink bleeding from his tattoos, he'll still be left with scratch marks of the choices he's made; scars in the place of his missteps.

No answer is given to your question. Instead, he sobs a little harder. Hugs you, now. Drops his bag to the floor and holds you so tight he's afraid you might break.

He'd rather this, though.

Rather his affections for you be the breaking point, and not his sheer cowardice that will no doubt shatter your perception of him.

Your arms wrap around his neck, feet strained to the very tips of your toes, your hand in his hair. You've never been good with those who cry; never known how to comfort. It's not your fault. Just how you were raised. Nannys and au pairs were all well and good, but they never had a mother's touch. Your scrapes and scratches got bandaids and banana milk, but never any kisses better.

There's a curious softness to the way your hold Jungkook. There always has been. You've never really understood it; the need you feel to nurture him. Perhaps part of you always knew - could always tell - that the loss of his mother had been more profound than he could articulate.

You don't want to mother him. It's not your job. Maternal instincts aren't your thing - but the way you care for Jungkook is so pure, so unadulterated, that you find yourself wanting to ease him of all his pains.

And so even though it's not your job, you'll kiss his wounds better, just so that someone does. You'll fulfil his needs. Be everything he needs. Why would he ever want for another when he could simply just have you?

Your lips press against his temple, willing him to heal. Whatever's wrong is clearly bottled up inside, and a small part of you hopes that your lips could draw the venom from within. It's fruitless.

"Tell me what you need," you say softly. You're not a mind reader. Life would be much simpler if you were."What do you need?"

He thinks it's a stupid fucking question. Doesn't understand how you can be so oblivious to it all; but also doesn't realise how much of an impeccable liar he is. It's a learned trait. He wasn't born to be like this.

He was born to be soft, to be gentle, just like you. Under the bravado of your sarcasm and vulgar language, you're nothing more than a heart in search of its place. More fool you for thinking his ribcage would be a fitting dwelling for it.

And so Jungkook tries a little softness back.

"Need you," he finishes his sentence with a slight hiccup, his irregular breathing throwing everything out of whack. "Need to know you'll stay."

It's cruel, the way he makes you promise the idea of forevermore, when he knows full well that come next week, that heart of yours? The one sitting comfortably in his chest beside his own? Yeah, come next week it will be in his hands, blood coating his fingers as they dig into the muscle and tear it apart.

How beautifully unaware, you are.

"As long as you need," you whisper back. "I'll stay for as long as you need me, Kook. You don't need to ask. You know you don't."

And that's the kicker.

It's what has him in such a sorry fucking state.

Your hairband around his wrist, and the scrunchie on his gearstick, had been the catalyst to his tears; you're his demise.

There's a dusty footprint on the dash, right by the passenger seat glove compartment. It's yours, small and insubstantial, from the drive back from the beach the day before. Anyone else and he'd had tapped their legs, made them put their feet down.

In fact, he did with you, too. He'd tapped your leg, and was met with refusal, so instead he had just wrapped his hand around your ankle, and kept it there until he need to change gear down from fifth. He knocked it straight into third, and as soon as he was off the clutch, his hand eased off the stick and wrapped around your ankle once more.

It's gonna be you, it's gonna be you, it's gonna be you.

When he's cold and alone in the weeks to come, it's gonna be you he thinks of at night.

When he spills a couple drops of gas onto his clothes at the pump, it's gonna be you he thinks of when the scent of it makes him feel all lightheaded and nauseous.

When he gets into the ring at Kang's and is perishing just to feel a little rush, it's gonna be you that he thinks of.

It's gonna be you.

Far sooner than you realised, and for far longer than he can even imagine.

"Shit," he hisses, pulling away from you and heading towards the window. His back hunches as he leans on the ledge with one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. He sniffs back the evidence of his upset and shakes his head. "Sorry. Just been a long day. That's all."

You perch on the side of the bed, understanding that space is needed. You're not good with comfort, but you are good with recognising the needs of others, at least.

"No bother," you shrug, not that he sees it. "We don't have to talk about it."

"Nothing to talk about," he says as he turns to face you. His features are all red and puffy, the friction of sleeves against his cheeks tarnishing them in flecks of crimson. A weak smile is plastered on his lips, and he knows it's not convincing. "I'm good."

And so you pretend that you are convinced, for the simple fact that he wants you to be. "I know. Was just saying. If you did wanna talk, you could. If not? We can do something else."

Jungkook's mind jumps to fucking away the upset. Seems like a good distraction.

But he also knows that if he fucks you right now, he'll cry. He won't mean to, but he'll feel the way you pulse around him, and he'll start thinking about your heart, and then his nose will be nestled in your hair, and he'll be thinking about all that he stands to lose, and then he'll break the fuck down; buried in your pussy, suffocated by the adoration he feels for you. It's a grave he's dug himself.

He pouts as he shakes his head, bottom lip protruding as if he doesn't give a fuck what you do. "Not fussed. What do you wanna do?"

You hold out your hand to encourage him to walk towards you, and he does it without a second thought. He kicks his shoes off by the foot of the bed and takes your hand, climbing onto the mattress with you.

"Not fussed, either," you hum all rather pleasantly, pushing a few strands of his hair back and out of his face. The blonde is growing out, and there's a warm band where the toner has faded. It doesn't look bad, but you also know there's nothing better than fresh hair to boost a mood. It's your classic hot girl in crisis mood. He might not be a girl, but he's hot as fuck, and seems to be in a crisis, so maybe it could help. "Why don't we dye your hair?"

There's a grin on his lips, his brows lifting as he pushes your hair behind your ear, too. "Dye my hair? You saying you hate it?"

"God, you're so dramatic," you laugh - and that's the exact reason why he's so bloody dramatic. He loves to hear you laugh.

"You do hate it?!" he cries, feigning pain. "You think I look like shit?"

"The shittiest," you confirm, though the way you're smiling at him says otherwise. If your smile was anything to go by, he'd think you love his hair.

He'd be right.

But maybe it just went with the territory; a byproduct of loving him for everything he is.

The thought of you loving him flashes in his mind like a weather warning: Storms ahead. Take cover.

It's replaced by mindless banter; you telling him how ugly you think he is, and him pretending like his feelings are hurt. There's a tussle between the pair of you, just for an excuse to be touching one another. It's inevitable that you end up on top of him, holding his hands above his head to stop him from tickling at your sides. He lets you take this role of dominance, even though he could overpower you if he really wanted to.

He wants you in charge; wants you calling the shots.

"Let's dye my hair," he agrees and seals the deal with a kiss. "You gotta do it too, though. Yin to my yang."

"Matching hair?" You raise a brow as your hair hangs delicately around your face, tickling at his.

"Matching hair," he nods, because fuck it. He's never gonna get to do the couple shit with you. Never gonna get you a matching pair of sneakers, never gonna switch the sim card ports in your phones. If this is his only chance, he's gonna take it. "You'll do mine, I'll do yours."

It's a fair trade. One you can't argue with - and so you simply smile. "Alright, fuck it. I'm in."

────────────

"Forgotten something?" you hum, as Jungkook makes a u-turn on your way out of the city. You're not really surprised, nor concerned about his change in direction. You trust him. Wherever he goes, you'll follow.

The blue of Busan's endless harbour darts past you, teasing you, mocking the freedom you think you have. You're shackled, cuffed to the armrest, a prisoner of the way your heart beats a little faster, a little harder, whenever you're inside his Pony. It never eases. It's just like that chime in your stomach, which only gets louder with every rev of his engine.

You're sad to leave the city. Had never cared much for Busan before. You care for him, though, and that's what makes the difference.

"No," he says with a small smile, one that he's trying to hide. There's excitement in his gaze, celestial entities sparking in his midnight eyes.

"Hotel's a little further up," you add.

"I know," he smiles again, simple and pure. You're a bad listener, he realises. Stubborn. Believe your own assumptions, even when presented with contradictory evidence. It's a flaw, yet he can't help but find it endearing. "We're not going there."

He glances over towards you and catches the way your face changes as you recognise the road you're heading down.

He loves that little thing you do with your brows; the way they furrow for just a second as you try to figure out what's happening. It's a common occurrence, brief confusion, and it only ever flashes over your features for a moment or so, but it's undeniably one of his favourite expressions of yours.

You're holding it now, brows still pushed together as a grin rests on your lips in disbelief. He flicks his indicator, and it's all but confirmed: you're heading towards your bucket list hotel, the one you've dreamt about for years but never fancied booking alone.

It's been mentioned between you once, maybe twice - and he remembered. Maybe it's the bare minimum. Maybe it isn't as much of a big deal as you think it is - but your heart swells like proofing dough in a baking tin, waiting for heat to transform it into its final form. Soft and warm, it'd be everything he needs to survive.

And yet the only thing you can articulate is, "fuck off."

He takes it all in good humour though, because he knows you, and he understands that you're overwhelmed with an abundance of delight. It trickles from every part of you, your happiness infecting him like some sort of disease. A glorious cause of death he thinks it would be, to perish from your pleasure.

"Can't," he grins. "The booking is under my name. You need me here, Little Miss Clutch Control."

The change in his tone from factual to flirty has you all hot and bothered. You didn't expect such a lame term of endearment to get you feeling like this, but something about hearing it in full glory really gets to you.

The car pulls to a stop, but neither of you get out. You continue talking, bantering, existing next to one another. You're prolonging it, the anticipation that makes your hands all clammy, feet tingly. He's the one to break from the cautious climate between the pair of you, when he says, "if you go check us in, I can bring our bags."

They say that you should never meet your idols; that the disappointment of them being just like any other human breaks the infatuation.

The same can be said for a hotel.

You've dreamt about this moment for so long. The room is gorgeous - not quite the top floor, but close enough - and it looks exactly how you always imagined it. White marble coats the floor, the walls, the ceiling, too. It's grand and demure, but it's cold. The bed is flush to the floor, and there's little else to look at other than the view which pours in. It's blue. Cerulean. Sky and sea, with nothing in between.

It's everything you expected, and everything you wanted.

But what you want isn't always what you need.

You find yourself missing the old hotel. Just a little bit. You miss the intimacy you felt in the previous room with Jungkook; the warmth, the limerence you shared. It's hardly surprising. That room saw your fledgling romance crash and burn, but it's also where you patched each other up and promised not to let it happen again. A lot was learnt beneath those sheets. On top of them, too.

Still, every inch of you - your face, your body, your posture - is draped in delight. You're radiant.

The hotel really doesn't matter. It's the effort that he's gone to which has you so enamoured. It's more than you think you deserve.

But most of all? You can't believe that he actually cares so much about your desires, your dreams, your wants, that he tries to turn them into realities.

"Gone to a lot of effort for 'just a friend from Daegu,'" you simper into his lips as he joins you by the window, watching a ship seep across the ocean.

He smiles. Pecks you once. Twice. Holds it a little longer. Withdraws. "My best fuckin' friend," he growls, a little frustrated with the way he knows you're gonna be using that against him for months (if you make it that far, that is). Pinkies beneath your jaw, thumbs on your cheeks, he kisses you again. "Stop saying shit like that, C."

"Or what?"

"Or," he laughs tenderly against your lips. "I'll be left with no choice but to show how much your... 'friendship' really means to me."

The worst part of it all is that Jungkook actually believes it. He really does think you're his best friend.

It's a shame. He always thought that once he found his best friend, then that would be it. He'd settle for life. Loyal like a dog, is Jungkook, yet he'd always anticipated his mating habits being like those of a wolf. After all, what's a soul mate if not your best friend?

Big, big shame.

For now, though, his focus is on the present. There's a future outside of these four walls, and he'd love for you to be it.

And so he behaves in such a way that he convinces himself you could be. You; his, eternal. No sharing. No take backs. In this shit together for life.

Comfort comes in the form of his smile, and the way he makes you feel so secure in yourself. He laughs at all your jokes, reciprocates humour that matches your own. Tells you tales of childhood, and has you thinking maybe one day you could have little terrors of your own. You ask him what he'd call his kids - and proceed to tell him that his hypothetical son, 'Manta Ray', would 100% hate him. He asks you what you'd call yours. You list your girls names. They're pretty. Standard. Nothing remarkable. For a son? You look at him, lashes low, smile saccharine, and simply say, "Manta Ray."

It's that statement which has Jungkook determined to fuck you raw tonight; fill you up, toy with the idea of what it could be like to get you pregnant. It's far too soon for any of that, but the thought of it gets his balls all tight, cock twitching in his sweats. He thinks about the way your body could change; all shapely and swollen because of the semen he's fucked into you. He thinks about your tits, and it's when he thinks about tasting your fucking milk that he knows he has to stop. He's way too far ahead of himself, all horny and engorged, wetness seeping from his tip.

It's inevitable that you'll end up naked at some point.

But it's not just because he's like a dog on heat, right now.

See, your dream of staying in this specific hotel comes in two parts.

The first is sweet; innocent pleasure found in the harbour view.

The second is far less innocent. It's still about the view, but more so about how much you wanna get railed in front of it.

Jungkook wises up to this pretty quickly, without complaint.

It's impossible not to - primarily because he's reclined on the bed, legs spread, cock hard as he strokes his thick shaft, watching you strip for him by the time night has fallen.

He takes in the sight of you under the silver moon; ethereal in the way she beams on you. The curves of your body are accentuated by the shadows, his lips desperate to devour every inch of your skin.

You're made for the moonlight, he thinks, made to be more than just a being of the sun.

He's always thought he belonged to the night, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he belongs to you.

It's not long before he's taking in the rest of you in; your scent, the way you sound, the tremor of your sternum as you laugh while he dapples kisses down your body.

You're celestial, laid bare, your soul for the taking. His lips are tender against your skin, as if he knows he could steal it. Keep it forever.

He's trying not to. He doesn't want to keep you, not like that, and not forever. He wants you to find happiness after him - but selfishly, he never wants anyone else to hear your laughter, not when it's coated in syrup, sweet enough to devour.

It's all very conflicting.

He can't wrap his head around it.

Can't make sense of any of it - but he can wrap his lips around your swollen pussy, tongue teasing as his fingers find their home inside you. He can make you forget the world, and that's exactly why you'll never be able to forget him.

His name is lodged in your throat as you come undone for him; a block of ice that melts with the heat of his limerence as he kisses through your post-climax comedown.

Body heavy on top of yours, his cock digs into your thigh as he ruts a little, unable to stop himself. He tries to hold back, but your tongue is in his mouth, hands are in his hair, and you're moaning.

The sound of your desire vibrates against his lips; has him shifting his hips until the tip of his cock is kissing your soaked entrance.

You tell him that you want him. Need him.

He shakes his head, and smiles, though he doesn't find much happiness in the admittance that comes with the gesture. "I'm no good for you, CC."

"Bit late for that, don't you think?"

His lips press into your throat; travel down to the hollow of your collarbone, skirt the tops of your breasts, and then he kisses right where he thinks your heart might be.

"You're so good for me," he whispers, lips brushing against the skin of your bare chest. You're more than he's ever deserved; more than he'll likely ever experience again. There's a fear - a very valid one - that this could be the last time. Part of him doesn't want it to happen. It will all feel so final, he thinks. Alternatively, perhaps it would give him closure - but what about you?

He's trying to do right by you, but it's so gut-wrenchingly difficult when all he wants is to give you what you want, instead.

He's slow as his hips begin to pulse, pushing ever so gently against your entrance before he retracts. He repeats this; once, twice, three times. Asks if you're ready. Waits for your nod. Feels his heart ache when you do. Sinks into you, slowly. Sheaths himself within your walls. Whines as he hits your cervix, balls ghosting your perky little ass as he does so.

Full capacity, you're stuffed with his cock, and yet he pushes just a little deeper to hear the way you gasp.

It won't take long to have him unloading himself into you. Doesn't even thinks he needs to fuck you. Your throbbing walls could milk him, even if he stays entirely still on top of you. He knows he'd make you so filthy, cunt throbbing, plugged with his fingers because he wouldn't want any of his creamy load to escape your pussy.

He knows exactly how he'd fuck you, how he'd position you afterwards, how he'd keep you reaching Nirvana again, and again, and again, just to increase the chance of fertilisation.

Jungkook is losing his fucking mind.

He's always been thankful for your birth control, because he loves to fuck you raw, but he hates it now. Wishes your body would just let you mother his future children. Doesn't give a fuck about anything else.

You're it.

He thinks you're fucking it.

His lips wrap around your nipple, mainly to stop himself from saying things he can't take back. Doesn't imagine you'll react too well to him growling about how much he wants to see your belly all round, tits engorged and leaky, body destroyed (though he'd argue it was beautiful) thanks to his insatiable cock and need to keep your pussy as his.

His mouth is warm; wet and gentle but firm with its movements. He's doing it with intent. You know why. You know what he's thinking about, cause you're thinking about it, too; how you're built for him to ruin in the most beautiful of ways, and how it's only fair he should reap the rewards.

"I know, baby," you husk, fingers stroking his hair as he groans against your soft chest. There'll never be another him. Ever. "It's cause we're good for each other."

There's something going on with him. He's always fucked you well, fucked you right. This is more than that, you think.

You aren't an idiot - but as vulnerable as he may seem, now doesn't feel like the right time to ask. You've dated men in the past who grew irate when sex would be interrupted by matters of the heart, and you've been conditioned to not 'ruin the moment.'

Jungkook wishes you would. Wishes you'd tell him to stop, tell him that he shouldn't do this, tell him that you don't want him - but you do, you do, you do.

There's movement; your hips working against his own, your hot walls milking his length.

He knows he shouldn't let himself indulge in such a ludicrous fantasy. You'll never get the picket fence. Never get the rose garden. Never take the kids to basketball practise on a Sunday, and fuck in the car as soon as you get a moment of peace together.

On the contrary, you think he should indulge in these little dreams - but there's hesitation, and it confuses you. All of his movements stop. His forehead rests against yours. He's inside you, still, but not how he was.

"You wanna stop?" You ask with a voice so tender that Jungkook just wants to melt into you. His lips find yours, pressure controlled, restrained.

One hand is supporting his body above you, the other holds the underside of your jaw. There's no further discussion, just mewls; groans of want, need, desire. Your legs wrap around his thighs, encouraging him to follow through on the pleasure that the hardness of his cock is promising.

He could do it. Make you his. Fill your sweet little cunt up so well like he always does. Have your back arching, body at his disposal. It'd be so easy.

Or at least, it would be if he wasn't getting soft.

It's not you. Fuck. God, no. Nothing to do with you. He's just so inside his head over everything - the way he feels, the fact he knows you arent built to last - that he's finding it hard to focus. That family he thought of? The happy one he could have with you? It'll never exist.

Jungkook can't think straight, let alone keep his prick straight.

You can feel that his cock isn't as firm as it was, but you think maybe it's just a blip. Maybe Jungkook trying to make himself last longer? You're not really sure of the mechanics involved in that, but it seems plausible.

You move your hips to give him a little encouragement, your pussy stroking against his shaft ever so gently. You're wet - so fucking wet - for him, and it gets him even more wound up.

Why is his body not responding in the way he wants it to? Why won't his head just let him fuck you like he wants to fuck you? Unfair, he thinks, so unfair.

You don't mind the fact he's not rock hard. He's only human. It's natural for things to not always go right, and it's not like he'd be the first boy you've ever known to have performance issues. It happens to everyone at some point or another - yourself included.

"What do you want me to do?" You offer, because you think it will help; think that by showing you don't mind helping out, it will make him feel more comfortable.

But he knows you've noticed and it's fucking mortifying. This never happens to him.

Then again, he's never fucked a girl he likes as much as he likes you. Naive of him to think he could trust his body not to betray his mind at such an important moment. Only fitting, really, considering that it's his mind that will betray his heart when it matters most.

It's a cycle, and Jungkook's struggling to get to grips with the pedals. He'll fall off, crash and burn, if he's not careful.

"Shit," he hisses as he bridles his hips and pulls himself away from you. His back meets the mattress with so much force that your body shakes, cold and alone without the weight of him on top of you. He lies next to you, staring at the ceiling, cock limp, jaw tense. So fucking embarrassing. "Dunno what's wrong with me."

You tell him that it's normal, nothing unusual, and that you don't care - but it's not normal. Not for him, and especially not when it comes to you. He's been a walking boner since the moment he met you. Hard as a steel pole for weeks. In fact, if anything, he's barely soft these days.

"Just give me a moment," he says, though he doesn't move. He's trying to focus.

He breathes, in and out, slowly, his eyes glued to the ceiling, tattooed hand draped across his sternum. In, and out. He remains flaccid, cock resting shamefully against the top of his thigh.

This is, he thinks, hands down the most mortifying experience of his adult life.

You don't give a shit, but he's so uptight; lips pressed shut, eyes hard, as he seems to look anywhere but your direction. It gets you feeling all insecure. You didn't think you were the problem at first, but now it's starting to feel like you are.

The awkwardness is uncomfortable, and the fact that you're naked is even more so.

You're both on top of the quilt, so you can't even hide. Instead, you have to reach down the bed for the closest piece of discarded clothing - Jungkook's flannel shirt.

It's about now that he wants to die. Not like a brutal, slow death (the kind that he knows he deserves). He just wants to be zapped like a fly with an electric bat. The kind you see Ajummas with during the summer, wafting them around in the air, tasing everything they come into contact with.

He rubs his palm across his face, and when he's done, his hand comes to rest over his pathetic cock. The worst part of it all is the minuscule trail of precum that has oozed from the tip of his cock and onto his thigh, tangled in his leg hairs.

He could have fucked you. Could have fucked you so well.

But instead, he's watching you get dressed - although he isn't even doing that. He can't even bring himself to look at you.

He had asked for a moment, so you decide to give him just that. You head towards the bathroom unannounced, and Jungkook wants to tell you to stay, but he can't get any words out.

Door locked, closed, metal threaded through a loop, you're alone - and you fucking hate it. You're embarrassed and ashamed and confused. Your acceptance of his performance issue was genuine, but it doesn't stop it from hurting. You think his desire is dwindling, and you don't know what you'll do if it burns out completely.

You breathe. Take a second to reset yourself. Everything is fine. Everything is okay. Jungkook is just having issues. It's not me, it's not me, it's not me, you tell yourself, though you don't really believe it, and then you head back towards the bedroom.

When you return, Jungkook's got his underwear on.

He's sat with his back to you, facing the sea view, legs crossed, knees raised for his chin to rest upon. There's a crease in his stomach, his posture pathetic and feeble.

You'd never tell him, because you know that he trains so hard at the boxing club, but you sort of like it when torso creases like this. It makes him seem human. Soft; his hard exterior subdued, just for you.

The bed shifts as you walk across it and plonk yourself down beside him, mirroring the way he sits. There's a tugging in your chest, like your heart is clawing against your ribs, begging to be let out so it can go and sit beside Jungkooks. You tell it no, that it has to stay put.

But then he inhales a sharp breath through his nose, and you can hear he's torn himself up over what just happened. Your head rests on his shoulder, and your heart pacifies. His bottom lip is beneath his front teeth, the pressure so great that it feels as if he could burst through the skin. He doesn't ease up.

Silence remains. You can hear the waves crashing through the double glazing, and you wonder why you find such peace in something so hostile. The sea could kill you without a care in the world, and yet you'd let it, if meant your final moments were as peaceful as this.

"I'm sorry, CC," Jungkook eventually whispers. His voice shakes, and your lips press a gentle kiss onto his shoulder.

"You don't have to be."

Oh, but I do, babe. You'll never know how sorry I am.

You continue, knowing Jungkook won't clarify any of his misgivings. "C'mon," your head knocks back. "Let's sleep. Check out is early."

And so he settles into the sheets with you. Doesn't really say much. Just spends an eternity looking at you. Such a sight to behold; a work of art framed by the sea view.

That's the thing about works of art: you can see all their imperfections up close.

You've an eyelash that sticks out straight, while the rest of them curl. There's a small scar just below your ear from a childhood accident. He must have pressed a thousand kisses against that spot and never realised before.

He's never paid much notice to your piercings - lobes, double; helix, single - but he notices now that the stud in your cartilage has a stone in it. Opal, he thinks, but isn't sure. He wonders why you chose that one. Doesn't think you chose it just because it's pretty. You put too much weight on intangible things like fate and karma to have not chosen something specific.

You'd had a field day when you found out he was a Virgo, but he didn't have a clue what you meant when you said, "Saturn in your seventh house? Curious."

He was even more confused when you apologised for the fact you have Mars in your seventh. At the time he'd made some juvenile joke about sticking his seven in Uranus, but he wishes he'd listened more carefully, now.

It was the first time you'd shown belief in something other than the power of peach teas to remedy a bad mood, and it was significant. Not to him, admittedly, but to you. In turn, it made it important to him.

There's very little he actually can say about you - concrete things, like your childhood hangout area downtown, or the career path you had dreamt about. He knows how you laugh, what kind of humour gets you, but not what makes you sad. Doesn't know how you grieve.

How much of you does he really know? Or has he just been infatuated with the idea of you?

After all, you're everything he was hardwired to hate. Perhaps he's fooled himself. Maybe the wool he's been pulling over your eyes is over his, too.

He's the one who's been knitting, though. The crochet is a product of his own making. He's only got himself to blame.

But of course, neither of you are to blame. Not really. This was never meant to be more than what it is. You're just a friend from Daegu, after all.

It doesn't feel like that, no, but for all intents and purposes, that's what you are. You aren't his girlfriend. He's never asked for more, and nor have you. Keeping things simple has only served to make everything so much more complicated.

"Hey," he whispers quietly, just to get your attention. He's embarrassed, and it shows in the way he's nibbling down on his lip, but he doesn't want to be. Deep down, he knows that there's no shame to be found in what happened, and yet he can't help but think maybe you like him a little less, now.

Maybe that would be good. Maybe you should like him less. Actually, he's certain that you should.

But he doesn't want that. The idea of you looking at him with anything less than utter adoration has his stomach in knots. He's so used to it now; the way your pupils widen, lashes flutter. It's juvenile, and he knows it doesn't mean as much as he thinks it does, but he's convinced that your eyes don't lie.

He and you both are nothing but spinners of yarn; the tellers of tall tales, romancers of wrong-doings. Rumplestiltskins' of sorts, spinning gold where there once was straw.

You murmur a noise, but your eyes are still shut. It isn't enough for him. Needs to be greeted with your eyes; to be welcomed home. And so, he tries again, thumb stroking your cheek, the side of his head nestling into his pillow as he shuffles in a little closer. "CC?"

A delicate breath huffs from your nose as you smile, curiously smitten with how tender his voice sounds. Part of you is tempted to feign sleep a little longer just to have him addressing you like that again, but you find your eyes open - and once you're looking at him, it's borderline impossible to stop.

"Morning," you smile, even though the moon is still peering in, checking in on the lovers she's nurtured to a point of no return.

"Morning," he smiles back. The clock on the wall behind you read 2:24am. "Missed you."

"Been right here," you counter, as if the chime in your stomach isn't ringing like Jungkook's phone always seems to do whenever he's getting lost in you. His thumb strokes at your cheek again, then pushes your hair behind your ear. He wants to see all of you. Every inch of your skin, every fleck of colour in your iris, every strand of hair; wants it all. The hollow of your collarbones, the slope of your shoulders, the curve of your chest beneath his flannel shirt. All. Of. It.

"Too far away," he pouts.

"Too far?"

"Too far," he doubles down, still stroking hair behind your ear just because he can. Your head nestles into the pillow as you figure out what he's after. 'You' is the simple answer, but what exactly he wants from you is unclear.

"I can be closer," you whisper.

All he does is nod. He doesn't want to ask for what he wants, fearful of repeating his earlier mistakes - and to be honest, he doesn't really want to fuck, anyway.

But Jungkook hasn't fucked you in a long time. Sure, he's been sleeping with you - having sex with you - but he can't qualify it as fucking. It's too brash. Too careless. Inaccurate.

The way he fucks himself into you lately is deliberate; a facilitator of the way he feels. And he's not gonna call it what it is, because the term makes him uncomfortable, but it's undeniable.

Jungkook fucks you like he loves you. Kisses you like it will be his last, touches you like it's still the first. He's tentative. Tepid. Tactful.

More than anything, though? He's absolutely fucking terrified.

The fear doesn't leave; not when your body grinds against his, not when you end up on top of him, not when he's kissing you like he means it, stroking your skin as if you bruise like a peach. It never dilutes. Never ceases.

He can be rough, if he wants to be - but he doesn't.

He wants softness, with you, always.

And he'll only have himself to blame when he loses it all.

────────────

There are 38 boxes of hair dye facing Jungkook, and he thinks they all look the same. 

You had been in Daegu for less than a minute when you reminded him to swing by an Olive Young to pick up some hair dye - and how could he ever refuse any of your requests?

It's so simple making you happy. A peach tea from a drive-thru on the way home, no complaints when you change what's playing through the aux after 20 seconds because you get bored, the way his hand squeezes your knee at red lights. Making you happy is the easiest thing in the whole wide world - but of course it would be.

There's no hardship that comes with your happiness. Everything Jungkook does is second nature, as if he's been doing it his whole life, and not just a few months.

"See, this one is ashy," you say, and he pretends as if he understands. It's been twenty minutes now, and no conclusion has been reached. You thought it would be easy, an in and out job, but Jungkook is full of surprises. It's not like you mind though. Learning his ways - how he behaves when no one else is watching - is a luxury that very few are able to indulge in.

He catches your gaze occasionally, and the way you marvel at him without even realising it. It makes him smile. Make him blush. Has him scared you're gonna start noticing his imperfections.

You won't - and even if you do, you'll file them under 'endearing habits' or 'cute quirks'. He's nothing short of perfection as far as  you're concerned.

Foam or serum? Powder or liquid? He didn't remember it ever being this hard before.

But of course, it wasn't. He wasn't actually the one who had dyed his hair blonde. Namjoon's sister had; a trick to foster intimacy with him when he wouldn't reciprocate her longing gazes after casual fucks.

He hadn't told you that, obviously. Didn't have a death wish - but he did remember that, for a short period of time, her attempt at faking closeness seemed to have worked.

It was a moment of madness for Jungkook, one too many sojus and he'd been seduced; a couple more and all of his clothes were on Naejeon's bedroom floor. He did as he always had done with her; took her from behind, spanked her ass when he was done and offered to drive her home after the alcohol had worn off - but he'd been foolish and gone back to hers that evening. While he was still a little bit worse for wear, he'd agreed to let her do his hair. He thought it'd be fun. She thought that maybe he'd realise there was more between the pair of them than just a good time after dark.

It wasn't long, and it wasn't love, but Naejeon had him reassessing whether or not it was just fucking, through the simple means of hydrogen peroxide coated strands of hair.

As much as he lamented the time he had spent with her towards the end of their arrangement, for a while she had been good for him. He'd become kinder, more gentle, and it seemed you were the one who reaped the rewards.

"And ashy is..." he carries his words on, as if the answer is on the tip of his tongue, but you know him well enough now to know that they're not. He's overwhelmed by the choices, simultaneously wishing he could pick without a care in the world, but also worrying about making the wrong decision.

"Bad."

"-Bad, yeah, that's what I was gonna say," he bullshits, but you don't mind the white lies all that much. He goes to say something, then cuts himself short. "And why is it bad again?"

It's the fourth time you've explained colour theory to him. "It's bad because you need a warm tone over the blonde, otherwise it will go green."

"I like green," he speaks with a small pout, not realising the green his hair will go isn't the same green as the trees in May. It will be murky, and grotty, like the streets in April rain.

"So do I," you smile. "But not for my hair. How about this one?"

His eyes follow your hand to one of the thousand boxes: a deep crimson red. It's not a shade he was expecting, nor one that he thinks will work on your hair. You know it won't, so you add "we can just bleach a little bit first. Like the underneath layer, or something."

His head tilts, a dimple forming as he tries to imagine what it will look like. You can see he isn't sure, and that he feels a little hesitant. He wants to do this. Wants to reinvent himself with you - an artist fixing up an old oil painting, filling in the cracks, restoring it to its former glory - but he's scared that what's done cannot be undone.

Ironic, really, that it's his hair that he's scared of. Consequences have meant little to him as of late, and yet here he is all pouty, huffing through his nose a little bit because the poor baby can't decide.

It makes you laugh how childish he can be. He just needs a little push you think; a helping hand.

"You trust me?"

The question is asked so flippantly that it would seem unfathomable for the trust between the pair of you to be broken. Flirtatious in your tone, he knows this is all just fun to you. Maybe he should loosen up. Maybe it should be fun for him, too.

Yes is the answer to your question - not that he'll give it to you. Words are dangerous. They can be used against him.

"I think you're mad," he tells you, but there's a smile that he just can't hide. It rests on his lips, crooked and glorious; sun breaking through a storm. It's yours, you think. Mine, all mine. "Get the bleach, you little fucker."

"See," you grin back, all big and pleased, and Jungkook thinks he'll never be able to smile without you. "You do."

You do as you're told; grab the bleach, get in line. Jungkook stands behind you, kisses your hair, tells you he likes it enough as it is, but that he's excited to do this with you. And then he's whispering some bullshit about how he wants kombucha, but the one he likes is sold out, as per usual.

When you go to pay, his card is already in the machine. It's on him. Everything during your trip has been. There's something charming about it; chivalrous. You've never needed a man with a white horse, but you got yourself a boy with a red Pony regardless.

Scarlet in colour, his car screamed danger when you first met him, but as you ride in the passenger seat, feet on the dash, hand beneath his on the gear stick, you feel safe. There's a world out there around you and yet none of it can penetrate the metal body. You like to think it's bulletproof.

It's an old car. A heap of shit, if you will, especially by today's highway standards. You had made a point to pay your respects a little longer at the road safety shrine at Haedong Yeonggungsa when you visited in Busan. 

A bullet would tear through it - but how lovely it is to pretend that you could be invincible together.

You ask if he fancies doing his hair at your place.

It's the first time you've ever offered.

You asked if he trusted you earlier that evening, and now you're the one showing him that you trust him.

This is bad. Really bad, in fact. In too deep; six feet under. He's sinking, buried in the way that he feels for you, but thinks that it's just his guilty conscience that's tickling at his tummy.

Your apartment isn't too dissimilar from his; a little one-room, cheap and drab, but brightened by your personality. There are photos on the walls, pictures with friends, postcards of art, memories of times you barely remember, now. Your bed is sort of hidden, a shelving unit separating it from the rest of the room. The first thing he notices about it is how many pillows you have. Plushies, too. He looks bewildered, but you simply shrug and smile. "Never take me to an arcade."

Your statement only serves to make that an insatiable desire of his. He's obsessed with the idea of you in front of the machines, neon lights glowing in your eyes, lips parted as you aim for yet another ridiculous plushy.

In fact, it's all he wants to do now, go to an arcade with you. Considers saying fuck it to the hair dye, and heading downtown instead.

But you usher him into the bathroom, and say, "c'mon, buddy. I gotta bleach mine first before we can put colour on."

Perched on the closed lid of your toilet seat, Jungkook watches on in awe as you get to work on your hair. The way you called him buddy plays on loop in his head. He thinks it's a joke because of the fact he told Taehyung you were just a friend, and he'd be right to consider that. He realises, rather quickly, that he doesn't ever want to be just a friend to you. Impossible, he thinks.

Mindless chatter takes hold as you paint bleach onto your hair. It's only on the underneath layer, and it washes out to be the most god-awful orange, but it's fine. All you need is a base for the colourful dye to stick to.

You've done this before, he assumes, but doesn't like that he's picked up that trait of yours - so instead, he asks about it.

"Shoulda seen me in high school," you smile. "Rebellion was my middle name."

It's said in jest, but Jungkook wonders just how true that is. You're the black sheep of a family you're pretending doesn't exist.

"Did it win?" He teases. "The rebellion?"

He likes the idea of your defiance being nurtured at an early age. You've always had fight in you, or so it would seem. It's something he finds attractive, the way there's bite behind your bark, and yet he appears to have you tamed.

You don't look at him as you smile, putting on a pair of latex gloves and reaching for the tub of crimson dye. The plastic container fits into your palm like it was made to be there. This new identity? The one that matches Jungkooks? Made for you.

Painting the dye onto your hair without much care, you shrug. Consider telling him about your family. Stop yourself at the last minute.

"Rebellions endure," you tell him, all matter of a factly and as if you know what you're talking about. You don't. You're a sham. Wouldn't know rebellion if it bit you in the ass. Stupidly, you think that disowning your family counts as an act of rebellion - but you did it all so quietly that no one even noticed. Rebellion would have been publicly denouncing them - also would have saved Jungkook a whole lot of hassle, that's for sure. "There's no winning. Just perseverance."

He doesn't agree. Thinks that life is a rotating door of winning and losing; a turnstile in the subway that will let anyone through given they can pay for the fare. That's what life boils down to for Jungkook; who has money, and who can spend that money.

The ones with the wallets always win.

Give it a week, and his wallet will be fat enough to run with the big boys - and yet he's never felt less powerful in his whole entire god damn life. He's watched girlfriends fuck about with his friends, his family disintegrate, his mother die. You - and your stupid fucking smile, the way your eyes always land on his lips before they meet his eyes, the smell of your gasoline tainted hair - trump it all.

He's a loser in this game, whether he 'wins' or not.

There's no winning without you.

There's a clamminess to his palms, a beating in his chest that goes a mile a minute, far too fast for a healthy heart. You're a comedown short of a cocaine upper, and Jungkook knows that his addiction has grown out of hand. Cold turkey is going to leave him in tatters, but he can't seem to ween himself of your body, your touch, the way your pinky loops with his. He knows what this is. Knows that the way he feels is far too much for what you are.

You catch him looking, his stare stern, and hard, and it has you smiling. He looks so serious - angry, almost - but you know he isn't. He's just thinking. Contemplating. He does it when he eats, too, and he's never angry when his belly is full. When you smile, the furrowing of his brows eases, and he begins to smile, too.

"What?" He questions, his eyes so fond that you can't believe you get the luxury of a man like him looking at you like that. Lucky bitch, you think. Luckiest in the whole wide world.

"Nothin'," you grin back, and he rolls his eyes. He looks so pretty, a strand of hair hanging over his forehead as you wait for the dye to process. His will be brighter than yours - just the tips of his hair where the bleach once was, but you think he'll look so pretty with a little colour against his honey skin.

He won't be able to hide the way he's paired with you. You've always scoffed at the couples who walk down the street in matching shoes, matching clothes. You think it's cringe. Vomit inducing. Gross.

But you're also so smitten that your lips are constantly curved into a smile, eyes fond as you look at him. You're absolutely infatuated.

So is he, but chooses to downplay it. Has a smirk on his lips as if he isn't obsessed with every little thing you do. "This is so dumb. Can't believe we're doing this."

"You suggested it!" You protest.

So hot, he thinks as you whine. He just wants to have his way with you, right then and there on the spot. Feels like he can never be close enough to you.

"So? Didn't think you'd agree," he smiles as he sinks his lips onto yours and forget all above the fact he's supposed to be careful.

Within half an hour, he's spraying you in the face with the showerhead, when he should be rinsing your hair instead. He laughs when you squeal, not caring for the fact you're both still fully clothed. A kiss is gifted and received, then given back, water from the shower hitting you both.

You're both in black, so the running red dye doesn't matter, despite the grout in your tiles turning pink.

"This doesn't seem like the most efficient way to rinse out hair," you husk against his lips, but he ignores you. Presses your back to the wall, and supports his body with a palm on either side of your head. The shower is clamped beneath one of his hands as the head sprays directly onto the wall, but he doesn't care.

"Yeah you're right," he agrees, his showerless hand cupping one of your breasts and squeezing it through the fabric of your soaked shirt. "Would be far easier if you weren't wearing this."

You laugh now, 'cause he's just so bloody predictable. A one-track mind, but you're glad he's thinking like this again. He's so much more himself when he isn't in his head over things.

His shut down yesterday has scared you; left you thinking that maybe he didn't want you anymore. The way his lips are on your neck, rough, teeth present, not caring about the crimson water running down your throat, suggests otherwise.

"You're a menace, Jeon Jungkook," you whisper, voice airy and light as it dances around the room, weaving between the droplets of water that pitter-patter on the ground. A menace; a maverick. Both could be true. When you look at him and see the way the dye is dripping down his skin, too, you think 'masterpiece' may be more apt.

He holds the showerhead over himself, letting the water run faster, more freely. The red feels never-ending, as if he'll be forever tainted by the colour of your love.

He then does the same to you, deliberately aiming straight for your face just to fuck with you. He loves how cute you sound when you squeak, body instantly shifting to defend itself.

"No, no, no," he koos, pulling the shower away and hugging you close just so that you don't retaliate against him. 

The way his clothes stick to his skin is uncomfortable, but you love the way his muscles feel beneath the drenched cotton. His chest is strong, arms even more so. Needless to say, he's obsessed with the way you look too: his shirt over your shoulders, water collecting in the fabric and forcing it to stick to the contours of your curves.

Reaching for the taps, he knocks the temperature down a little bit. 

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispers, pressing a kiss into the side of your head. The shower pours onto your feet, but you can feel it travel up your legs. There's a shift in your position as Jungkook says 'You should lift my shirt a little bit."

You feign naivety. Pretend like you don't know what he's going to do. "Like this?"

It's inched just a little further up, resting just above the lace trim of your underwear. You're a tease; Jungkook your favourite victim.

He nods. Swallows. Rests his lips ajar as he struggles to breathe. "Just like that, C."

The heady nature of the steam fogging up the bathroom fails to hide the fact he looks nervous; intent on succeeding where he had failed the night before. He watches as your lips part, brows furrowing. 

The way your chest heaves isn't lost on him, but he finds himself lost in you, and the way you look at him when he begins to hit just the right spot with the steady stream of water. You grip onto his arms, rising to the tip of your toes. A moan husks in your throat, and he smiles.

Crown of your head to the tiles, you let your head tip back, eyes closing. Your showerhead isn't something you often indulge in for pleasure by yourself, favouring your hands or a toy instead - but there's something so deeply erotic about the way he's watching your body respond to the water that he's controlling.

Occasionally he'll dip his hand down to your clit, not wanting the showerhead to take all the responsibility for what Jungkook knows will be his favourite part of the day. It's noticeable, the way a little extra moan will escape your lips whenever he uses his fingers. It's ego-boosting. Cock-swelling.

Your nails begin to dig in deeper to his muscles, no doubt leaving a print on his skin. Your whines, sultry and slow, take dominance over the running water which has been soundtracking your build-up.

"That's it," he keens, finally slipping his middle finger into you. He curls it, and the way you silently gasp has him smirking. He's still got a firm grip on the shower, his wrist moving in small circles to make sure he hits all the right places. "You gonna come for me, C?"

You're not there yet. Just a little further. A little more. A little - oh, fuck -deeper. You wanna tell him yes, yes you will, but all you can do is nod. Your eyes are shut, too embarrassed to look at him when you know you're going to finish in record time. The way you moan is sinful, and it only gets worse when you feel his tongue circle one of your nipples through the soaked shirt. He sucks, and lets it go with a pop.

"Keep-" you try and speak, but it's lost to the pleasure that's running down your spine.

He laughs. "Keep what?"

The question is answered by the way his lips wrap around your other nipple in place of a question mark. His tongue works at the swollen bud through the shirt, massaging it just enough to have your hips grinding against the pressure of the water, riding on his finger.

It's when he adds a second finger that things really start to become out of your control. Nothing you're saying makes any coherent sense. His replies are simple hums that vibrate against your chest as he sucks on it.

The thing that tips you over the edge is his third finger. The sounds you're making are lewd, and filthy, reserved only for him.

"The way you take me, baby," he grits against you, amazed by everything you are. "God, you take my fingers so well, don't you?"

"Kook-" you try, but are cut off with his lips against yours. His tongue is in your mouth, your hands in his hair, heart pressed against yours - and then you're unable to think, let alone kiss back. Your moans melt into his mouth, onto his tongue, and he devours every single one of them.

"Shit," he moans right back. "Yeah. Fuck my hand like that. Like that, CC. Coming all over my fingers aren't you?" His teeth graze your neck. "Filthy fucking slut."

The hands that are in his hair drop to his throat, and squeeze. His eyes are on yours as you ride out your high, but it's a warning you're giving him. He knows this. He likes it.

"Not like that one?" He teases, jaw hanging slack in a crooked kind of fashion that makes him look like he's from an 80's movie. You shudder a little, the ends of your orgasm still washing over you.

On the contrary; there's nothing you'd enjoy more than being bent over his leg and having him call you nasty little names while he leaves handprints on your ass. You're just fucking with him. Know that he'll take the graze of your nails as an indication you wanna fight. And you do. Just in such a way that you end up fucking, too.

You're still shaking as he withdraws his fingers. He looks at them, how they're coated in your juices, and debates who should get the honour of licking them clean. His eyes are on yours as he licks a stripe up his index finger.

"Fucking hell," he husks, lips wet from your mess. No one's ever tasted as good as you before. He doesn't think anyone else will ever compare.

He was gonna be strong about this; gonna take a sample and then give you the rest - but he just can't help himself. He sucks on his fingers - index, middle, then fourth - one at a time, before all three are in his mouth.

If you were breathless before, then you think you might have stopped breathing altogether, now.

He stares at you. Sucks. Withdraws, but only a little. Pushes his fingers further into his mouth. Closes his eyes. Groans. Moans. Grunts. Begins to withdraw. Opens his eyes. Releases his fingers with a kiss at the tips.

His eyes look down your body, then up to your eyes. "Where were we again? Ready to shampoo?"

The visual of him sucking on his fingers plays on repeat in your head. You need to see it again.

It's almost embarrassing how paper-thin you are when you shake your head, and say, "rinse and repeat. Gotta do that again."

He raises a brow. "Which part, C?"

There's a playful nature to him, pleased and protected in how easy he finds it to get you coming undone. He feels safe, now. There's security to be found in your eyes; a sanctuary, a dwelling, a hearth. Somewhere to curl up on the cold nights. A place to congregate. Someplace to call home.

You'd give him a key, if you had one. Put it on a chain around his neck. Maybe you'll just match your door code to his, instead. Cute couple things. The kind of shit that makes you roll your eyes and gag a little.

Ironic, really, when you think about it, as you wash the remainder of the dye from his hair. He reciprocates, but you don't think he's done it properly. It's only now that you pull his shirt off your body and let it fall to the bathroom floor with a loud slap. He sits on the closed lid of your toilet, still fully clothed, drenched, ruby red hair framing him perfectly. 

It suits him, even now, before it's styled pristine in that rugged kind of way he manages to perfect so effortlessly. He watches as you run the water through your hair, and you're surprised when you glance in the mirror to find him looking at your face. You thought his eyes would be elsewhere. 

In all honesty, they had been - you just caught him at a good moment.

Smiles are exchanged between the pair of you without your consent. Funny, how everything with him is involuntary, but in the best possible way. You don't have to think about happiness, it just comes.

"You look like a mermaid," he tells you, cheeks dimpled and bright. You cast your eyes to your legs - which are very much legs and not a tail - and give him a questioning look. "The hair," he clarifies. "I mean the hair. Bet you'd look fit as fuck with a tail though."

"My lord," you groan, tilting your head back in jest. "I'm dating a dude who's into fish?"

"Dating, eh?" Jungkook's ears grow red and hot, but he hides them well.

He wouldn't mind it if you were dating. Would quite like it actually.

You ignore him for a moment, caught out in the admittance of how you view the relationship between the pair of you. You don't feel embarrassed as such, you just didn't want to be the one to elevate the status of what you are.

"Not anymore," you say. "I prefer men who like girls with feet."

"I'd let you give me a foot job any day of the week," he protests almost too quickly. You reach over to knock the tap off, so Jungkook reaches behind himself to pull the towel down from the rail. He stands as it falls, opening it up for you to wrap around your body.

Gestures like this are normal for Jungkook; thoughtless thoughtfulness. You notice it often, and you always say thank you, but he just shrugs. He doesn't see it as a gesture. He's doing what he wants to do, and what he wants is for you to feel comfortable. He wants to ease your burdens.

Perhaps it's guilt. The knowledge that he's about to be the biggest burden you've ever encountered.

Or perhaps it's the language he speaks when words aren't enough.

Perhaps, just maybe, he's in lo-

The moment is cut short when Jungkook's phone begins to ring in the kitchen. You usher him out, tell him to get it, and head to your bed. Flopping down, still wrapped in your towel, you listen in to the conversation - "Jin? Yeah. Yeah. Back in Daegu. Tonight?" - and notice the way his posture changes. His back grows tighter. Voice becomes agitated. He's whispering, but is seething. You sit up, eyes trained on him.

He glances over to you, brows hard, eyes narrow. He looks away. Looks back again. Looks like he might fucking cry.

"No Jin, tonight is a bad idea. It just is, alright! No- Fucking hell, would you listen to me alright? Jin, she- No! No."

He looks at you again, eyes wider than the full moon peering in through the kitchen window. Divine feminity washes over him and berates him for his choices - but you mistake it for the sheen of a good man.

It's guilt that glitters in his eyes when he looks at you. He thinks you're gorgeous, but knows you must be a little bit stupid, too. 

How the fuck did you let him in this far? Why didn't you see right through his facade? Why didn't you just cut him off? 

God, he adores your brain - is absolutely enamoured with it - but fucking hell.

A beautiful fool is what you are, and to play a fool is to lose.

He wishes you never agreed to go on that fucking date. He only asked in the first place because he couldn't bring himself to let you get hurt, but it's gonna be so much worse now. Infinitely more destructive. Physical pain you'd have gotten over. Maybe even forgiven.

But this?

Jungkook's standing on dynamite. If he even takes one step toward you he'll catch the tripwire that will strike a match on the wick, and everything will be in fucking tatters.

It already is.

And all the while, you're reaching into your wardrobe to find him a pair of sweats big enough for him.

"I don't care what Joon says!" He hisses into the phone as you finally find the pair of sweats you had in mind. They're far too big for you, but hopefully they'll do the trick for him. "How far am I? From Kangs? 'Bout half an hour."

You close your wardrobe and look at him, head tilted, brows pinched together. He's barely a five-minute drive from Kangs. Ten tops. You figure he must just want more time with you before his boys steal him away.

"Jin?" He says into the phone, but is met with what must be a response he doesn't like. "Jin? The fuck man! Just listen to me! Please! Plea- fuck."

His words are interrupted by the crack of his phone hitting the steel sink basin in your kitchen. Shoulders hunched, he rests his palms against the counter, his breathing accentuated by the way his back is moving.

You're not scared, but you are cautious. You know he boxes. Know he has the potential to lose his temper.

If only you knew how well he's controlling his emotions in this moment. He should be given an award. A medal. A plaque. Jeon Jungkook, Container of Emotions, 2022.

Or perhaps 'Liar of the Year' would be more apt.

"You good?" You asked, edging towards the kitchen, sweats in hand. "Here, change into these. You'll catch a cold, otherwise. I'll put the heating on tonight."

Jungkook shakes his head. Stays silent. Sniffs. Is cold when he finally growls, "no, you won't."

"It's fine," you promise. Your heating bill is never that expensive. "I don't mind."

"C-" He begins, but cuts himself off.

When he turns to face you, his eyes are black. Just like they are in your nightmares. You always thought you'd die if he ever looked at you like this. The way your skin crawls has you thinking you might.

"What?" you speak so quietly that Jungkook wants to set himself alight on the gas stove top behind him.

He closes his eyes. Hangs his head in shame.

"You trust me, right?"

Something about his tone, his demeanour, has you frozen.  Your kitchen light is off, bathroom too, and there are shadows on his face that obscure his intentions. 'No' echoes in your head, but you can't bring yourself to speak it into existence. 5 minutes ago, it would have been an unequivocal, unwavering 'yes.'

He tries again. Eyes wide. Still focused on the floor. Petrified. You mistake them for being honest. 

"Tell me you trust me, C."

"I-" you choke on your words, heart lodged in your throat. He refuses to look at you. Heat gathers on your lash line, and it confuses you. He confuses you. You don't understand what he's asking of you. He's in your home. You invited him here. Is that not proof enough?

"C," he demands an answer. His eyes are on you now, finally looking in your direction. They're black, and they look right through your skin, as if he's watching the way your heart beats beneath your ribcage. You find yourself cowering into a shadow of the woman you are, and it's just another thing he adds to the list of reasons to hate himself.

You're meek and pathetic when you nod in response and say, "of course I do. Why would you even ask that?"

He's never seen you timid. Never seen the way you used to be before you left your family and became a human in your own right. There's something deeply unsettling about the way he's managed to revoke you to this version of yourself, and he knows this just as much as you do. 

He sniffs back a sob. Turns away from you. Rakes his fingers through his damp hair, and turns to face you again. Jungkook is struggling to survive inside the vessel of his which has been taken over by a fucking monster.

"Yoongi," he speaks quickly, not wanting to waste time. "Your co-worker, right?"

You nod. Say nothing.

"He lives around the corner, right?"

There's no reason for Jungkook to know that. No feasible reason at all. You can feel your pulse. You're panicking. Why does he know that?

"Take the fire exit and go to his, okay?" He says. "And fucking stay there until you hear from me, alright? Don't leave his place. Stay with him."

He expects you to nod. Expects the pathetic demeanour that's masking who you really are to agree with him. Yes, Sir. No, Sir, Three bags full, Sir.

But you stopped letting men tell you what to do a long fucking time ago. You don't take orders from any man - and you especially don't take orders from boys.

You stand straighter. Taller. Raise your chin, and look at him through your nose. For a second, you almost forgot who you were.

"What the fuck is going on, Jungkook?"

The question is stern. Sterile. 

Fuck.

He's so taken aback by the way you address him that he feels winded. Cannot breathe. Will die.

"You said you trust me-"

"Yeah, and you'd never given me reason not to trust you before now, but what the fuck is this?" You gesture between the pair of you. "You say jump, I say how fucking high? Nah, fuck that, Kook. What's going on?"

He paces, pushing a tense hand through his damp hair, before rubbing his face with his palm. The red runs through his fingers like a warning sign. Danger. You better run, too.

"C, you just gotta trust me-"

"Trust?"

You laugh now. At him. Trust? When he's behaving like the sketchiest dude you ever met? You think the fuck not.

"I don't trust you," you spit, and rightly so - although you know you're being reactive. You should be calmer. Evaluating the situation, considering why he's asking this of you - but you've seen red, and it clouds your better judgement. "It's earned, not owed. Either you tell me what's going on, or you get the fuck out of my house."

"C-"

"Do not try and reason with me, Jungkook," you assert. "You tell me, or you go."

And that's when he realises. 

That's when he knows there's no coming back from this.

"I can't," he whispers, the crack in his voice so painfully tortured. "I can't do either of those, C."

"You're gonna have to."

"C-"

"Kook."

"Plea-"

No, you think. You told him not to try and reason with you. What does he think he'll achieve? You'll magically say yes?

Incorrect.

"Get out."

"I can't."

"I'll even open the door myself, if I really have to."

"C-"

"You've got thirty seconds."

"C-"

"Twenty."

"You gotta just-"

"Ten."

"You're not even giving me a second!"

"Five-"

"Fine."

"Four."

"You want the fucking truth?" He shouts.

"Three," you smile. Yes. I do.

"You really want the truth so fucking bad, do you?"

Oh, you big fucking baby, you taunt internally. Men. Always too good to be fucking true. Always have to do something to go and fuck it all up. 

You toy with the possible answers of what the truth could be. Fucking someone else? The other woman planning on showing up for a fight? Maybe the mother to a child of his, or something like that. He seems to be good at running from his responsibilities, so it would make sense.

"Two."

He pauses. 

And then he thinks fuck it.

You want the truth? You'll fucking get it.

"I know who your family are, C. Know all your dirty little secrets. Everything. And I also know that if you don't shut the fuck up and listen to me, you're gonna get real fucking hurt tonight. That's why you have to trust me. You have to get out of here. Something bad is gonna happen thanks to the past you keep trying to hide, so I need you to trust me. I don't want you to get hurt."

Bull. Shit.

This might all make sense to you one day. 

But for now, all you can focus on is the audacity that the man in front of you has.

You reach over to your front door, and open it wide. His time is up. 

"I don't fucking trust you. Now get out of my apartment before I call the police and have you arrested for breaching the peace. Clock struck one, Cinders. Time to flee before I find out who the fuck you really are."

He looks at you, helpless and confused. This isn't what he had expected. Not in the slightest.

"C-"

"One. Now fucking leave."

────────────

[tonberry-yoda]

Was wondering, could I get headcanons for Junkerqueen, Junkrat, Ramattra, and Moira with a short s/o that likes to ask for piggy back rides ? 'ppreciate it :)

Junkerqueen, Junkrat, Ramattra, and Moira with an s/o that loves piggyback rides

notes - anon, this idea is so gosh darn cute omfg like i love it so much!!! i hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed getting the ask! have a super day and I hope you enjoy! <33

Junkerqueen

you don't even have to convince her

girl will just give you piggyback rides randomly LMFAO

like fr

she's so strong and big so she gives the best piggyback rides

will literally forget she is carrying you and just be shopping or something with you just stuck to her back lol

and if you do ask, the answer is always immediately yes

she carries you around so cutely and we love her for that

Junkrat

YES YES YES

this man LOVES giving you piggyback rides

though be warned, he will toss you around LMFAO

he gets too enthusiastic, starts running around with you on his back, and almost always drops you

sometimes he will actually drop you too

in that case, he will apologize profusely and press kisses all over your face, making sure that you're okay before he does it all over again lol

Ramattra

this man will take a bit more convincing

he always thinks the idea is stupid, but when you finally convinced him to give you one and he heard you laughing and having such a good time, he couldn't help but give you occasional piggyback rides whenever you asked

in private, of course, he would never let anyone know that he has ever given you a piggyback ride

one of the best times you ask for a piggyback ride is when you two go for your usual walk and always find yourself in a field

he carried you through said field and then you two lay in the field and watch the sunset turn into stars

Moira

this woman is going to take A LOT OF CONVINCING

you see that face she's making in the gif

yeah that's her whenever you ask

she ALWAYS tells you no

ALWAYS

like it takes you years before she actually gives you one and then she'll probably never do it again im ngl

the one time she did though was at an overwatch party

she wore a stunning tight fit dress that night and after a couple of drinks, she decided to take you in the backyard and give you a short piggyback ride until the two of you couldn't breath you were laughing so hard

you both cherish that memory, but you don't know that she does <3

~~~~~

overwatch masterlist | pinned post

2023 @tonberry-yoda – do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[g0lden-diety]

How abouut…. Bakugo with black reader grumbling about getting dragged to the club but you try to convince him that it’ll be fun bc he’ll be with the guys while you stick with the girls and it’ll be a cute lil outting for y’all. he gets irritated but figures he should go bc you’re looking like 🔥sin🔥 in that black dress and he would want to be around just in case anyone tries it but he honestly gets more than he bargains for when he sees u throwin it back w the girls and it’s over when he sees someone approaching you and now he’s tight bc he’s gotta drag u out the club and show youre his 👀👀, just a thought 👉🏽👈🏽🥺

Oh...oh hell yeah, this is perfect!!! Like this was my face when I read the request:

Little Black Dress ┆ K. Bakugou

Pairing : Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Black!Reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

cw: alcohol mentions, unprotected sex, choking, cockwarming, oral (fem. giving), overstim, fingering, impact-play, slut-calling, some aftercare, praise, some degradation, smut (obviously) MDNI

All characters are aged up!!

Author’s note: soooo, this was originally gonna be a headcannon/drabble post, but I REALLY liked this request so I decided to turn it into a short fic, I hope you enjoy‼️<3

Minors Do Not Interact // 18+

“Why the hell are we even going?” Katsuki uttered loud enough for you to hear, causing you to sigh from the bathroom.

“Katsu, c’mon! Mina invited us out so we could finally get a fuckin’ break. You can hang with the guys, I hang with the girls, we all can drink, dance, get lit. It’s gonna be fun,” you said as Katsuki made a ‘tch’ sound from your shared bedroom.

Mina had invited you, Katsuki, Kirishima, Deku, Ochacco, Kaminari, Jirou, Hagakure, and Sero out to the club to get sort of an escape from the day-to-day hero life. Obviously after tonight, and the morning after you nursed your hangovers, it would be back to business.

“Ok, how do I look?” Katsuki’s eyes almost bulged out of his head when he saw you. Your curves filled out the silk, black dress, it stopping at mid-thigh, dipped low in the front, backless, and only held up on you by a few strings.

Katsuki looked at you like you were straight up sin, and goddamn, did he wanna be a sinner right now.

“Still don't wanna go?” you asked cockily, leaning against the doorframe, resting your hand on your hip. You could see him subtly shift in his seat as his eyes flit from your chest, to your hips, then slowly up to your face.

“Tch, c’mon n’ let’s go, ya cocky lil shit,”

So there you all were, the smell of sweat, sex, and alcohol wafting through the air. You and the crew stood in front if the bustling club, live with energy. You and Mina we're going to practically buzzing with excitement. Glasses of sickly sweet drinks were poured, making the person who ingested them feel light and airy, like they were on top of the world.

“Alright ladies n’ gents, let's go get some shots cause I'm tryna drunk n’ nasty,” she spoke, sending a wink to Kirishima, making him wink right back.

“Do not make babies on the dancefloor, I beg of you,” Sero mumbled as you laughed, grabbing Mina’s hand, then she grabbed Ochacco’s, who grabbed Hagakure’s, who then grabbed Jirou’s as you all head to the bar, leaving the guys stuck.

Soon, drinks were poured, music was bumping, people were dancing and having a good time, as they should. The honey-colored liquid made your head float as you moved your body with your friends to the bass thumping through the club.

You were feeling the music, the fun, having a great time, but there was one issue. Katsuki hadn’t been paying you attention all night. He only really conversated when you stopped at the bar to get another drink, or whenever you and the girls took a break from dancing. The thought made you subtly pout in frustration.

You began to move your hips provocatively, wining and twisting your lips, hypnotizing anyone who looked. This caused a bit of an uproar, seeing as more and more people began to crowd around you, hyping you up. Katsuki heard the commotion on the floor, eyebrow raising as he wondered what the hell was going on. He moved past the people, subtly not-so-subtly shoving past people. Once he saw, his eye twitched in irritation.

You, his girl, his woman, was in the center of the floor putting on a show for everyone to see. You were throwing ass so disrespectfully in that dress, he was surprised the cops weren’t called for disrespectful-ass throwing. Katsuki watched silently, feeling his blood boil while perverted eyes watched you, lusted for you. How dare they? You were his, and his only.

His final straw was when someone, a man, slinked closer to you. Katsuki couldn't tell who he was, or what he looked like, due to the lighting of the club. He watched as the guy stuck out a hand, reaching for your ass.

“Oh, hell no,” the blond thought to himself, angrily trudging over to you. You glanced, seeing Katsuki getting closer.

“Kats-”

“Shut up, we need to talk,” you couldn't even get a word out, you were too busy being dragged to the back of the club, down the dark hallway, and into the bathroom, the door licking behind the both of you.

“Have you lost, you're fuckin’ mind?!” he exclaimed as you winced at his tone, it making your head pound.

“Shhhhh, you're so loudddd. Besides, don't even know why y’ care. Y’ haven't been payin’ me no attention allllll night. What, cause I put on a little show, it's an issue?” you asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut as he breathed out deeply.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, obviously being over this bullshit.

“Mmkay, while you're in here havin’ your bitch fit, I'm gonna go out n’ continue to par-” his hand slammed up, blocking you from the doorway. You looked at his hand and arm like it was a foreign object, wondering what the hell he thought this was.

“Uh, excuse me? I don't know who the hell you think you blo...” you sentence trailed off as you looked into his eyes, them darkened with lust. He looked down at you, the way your brown skin looked in the red lights of the bathroom, the way that little, black dress fit tightly in all the right places.

“You,” he gripped your waist, turning you and pinning you against the sink counter.

“Ain’t goin’ nowhere. You wanna put on a show for everybody to see what's mine? Fine, I'll show you why you're mine,” all of a sudden, your hands were being pinned on the counter, hissing as a shooting pain going up your spine, asscheek throbbing.

“Katsu-”

“Shut it, slut. I obviously gotta remind you who you belong to since you wanna act out,” he bent you over farther, smacking your ass again, earning a shocked gasp from you. There was something different in his eyes, something feral. It made your thighs mush together as you felt your core pooling with heat.

He smacked your ass again, a slight moan escaping your mouth from the pleasurable pain. His hand trailed down your spine, flipping up the back of the dress, seeing your panty-less behind.

“N’ you got the nerve to not wear panties either? Oh, baby,” he leaned down, close to your ear while grabbing your hair to pull you back.

“I'm gonna fuck you nice and good,”

Katsuki’s hand tightened around your neck, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. You squealed loudly as you felt Katsuki’s fingers plunging into you, curling and hitting against all the right spots.

“Ngh! Kats-shit!” You exclaimed, biting your lips as Katsuki’s fingers moved faster and faster.

“Look at you, takin’ these fingers like a fuckin’ slut. Show me how good it feels, baby,” he commanded in your ear as your eyes rolled, letting out a loud moan, clutching his hand that was placed on your waist.

He bit his lip at the sight of you, his lover, melting at his touch and begging him to slow down. It made his bulge throb against the fabric of his pants.

“Mmm, look at you babygirl, look at how pretty you look,” your head hung low as you breathed deeply, your legs shaking and your core throbbing as you juices ran down your legs and onto his fingers.

“You heard me, slut,”

Suddenly, your head was yanked up by your hair, Bakugou forcing you to look at yourself.

“When I tell you to fuckin’ do somethin’, you take orders like a hood little slut, you hear?” He asked as you mumbled something unintelligible.

“Oi,” he smacked the side of your face, yanking you back roughly and then gripping around your jaw, holding your face class to his.

“You should know, I don’t like fuckin’ repeatin’ myself. When I tell you to fuckin’ do somethin’, you do it. You fuckin’ understand?” He asked, gripping around your neck.

“Yes!” You cried as Katsuki smacked your ass with thunder hard force.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes daddy!” You exclaimed as he chuckled menacingly, licking his lips mischievously.

“Good, goood girlll, such a good girl. In fact,” you heard the sound of a zipper unzipping and something, thick, hard, and throbbing against your asscheek.

“You feel what you do to me, slut? Hmm?” He asked, smacking his shaft against your ass.

“Answer me,” another hard slap to your ass.

“Fuck! Yes!” You exclaimed.

“You want me to fuck you? Hmm?” He asked, biting his bottom lip as he rubbed the tip against your swollen, wet folds.

“Yes,” you muttered, barely audible.

You yelped out in pain as he smacked your ass.

“I can’t hear you, slut. Say it again for me, you want me to fuck you?” He asked.

“Yes,” you spoke, a little louder this time.

Another smack, a burning hot sensation that brought tears to your eyes.

“Louder, baby,”

“Yes!” Another hard slap again.

“Louder, slut,” he smacked your ass roughly as you choked back a sob, feeling your ass throbbing.

“Yes! God, fuck me!” You whined loudly as Katsuki chuckled, subtly rubbing your abused ass.

“Of course I’ll fuck you, babe. But first,” you were forced on your knees, gripped by the back of your neck, and forced to look up at Katsuki.

“You’re gonna take care of the shit you caused,” he said, smacking his tip against your lips.

“Open,” you obliged.

“Get to it, and if you stop, I’ll face fuck you until you’re fuckin’ crying,” you immediately got to it, working both your hands, mouth, and tongue around his shaft, teasing his tip and gagging around his length.

“Ahhhh, fuck, baby. That fuckin’ mouth,” he groaned, his head falling back in pleasure as he held your hair back in a makeshift ponytail. You moaned around the base of him as you deepthroat him, not helping but to touch yourself as the faces and noises he was making.

“Yeah, that’s it bitch, c’mon. Suck that dick like your life fuckin’ depends on it,” you gagged again as you pulled back, globs of spit and precum dripping down your chin.

“C’mon, sexy bitch, keep goin’ until I cum all over that mouth and those pretty tits of yours,” you began to suckle his balls, jerking him off and massaging the tip of him, his head falling back as he let out a loud moan.

“Yeahhhh, baby, c’mon, c’mon, just like-AH!” Katsuki felt himself throb in your mouth, him hunching over you and letting out a slight whimper as he came down your throat, pulling out of your mouth as cum came spurting out onto your lips and chest.

“Get up, ‘n turn the fuck around, I’m not done with you yet,” you stood, turning so your back faced him and he bent you over, the cool ceramic porcelain of the sink making you nipples hard because of the cold.

Without warning, Katsuki slammed into you, making you scream. He pulled you back by your neck, choking you as he thrust roughly into you.

“Ahh! Katsukiiii!” You whined as your ass clapped and jiggled against him.

“Yeah? That feel good?” He asked as you moaned, nodding.

“Tell me,”

“Feels so good! Your d-dick ‘s so good!” You moaned as he bit his lip, groaning lowly in your ear.

“Yeah? I’m the only one who can give you dick this good, huh?” He asked.

“Yesss! Only you-FUCK!” You yelled as he hit that spot, making you take it.

“Mmm, you’re the only one I want, the only one I wanna give this dick to, the only one who I know can take it like a good girl,” Katsuki praised as you moaned, feeling a knot in your stomach building up.

“K-Kats! ‘M ‘gna cum!” You mewled as Katsuki tilted your head back, kissing you sloppily.

“Cum for me then, baby. Keep takin’ that dick, just like that. You take it so good, baby, I’m so proud of you. Cum, cum for me,” he gently coaxed as the knot in your stomach finally realeased, your vision scattering with white dots and your voice leaving your body as you began to orgasm, Katsuki still stroking in and out of you.

“Take it, take it baby, ‘cause I’m not stoppin’ til I cum in that sweet, pretty little pussy of yours,” your eyes rolled back as you begged him to slow down but he kept the pace.

“Ahhhh! Katsukiiiiii!” You cried, feeling your legs shake as you creamed down your legs and all over his dick.

“Yessss, yes baby, fuck!” He hissed, leaning forward and pressing his chest against your back, holding you close, massaging your tits as he came inside you, shooting his load into you as he groaned in your ear, catching his breath.

“K-Kats,” you slurred, feeling drowsiness overwhelm you.

“I know…I know. Here, lemme clean you,” Katsuki then grabbed a few paper towels and wiping up the mess on your legs, face and chest.

He then kissed your swollen ass, softly rubbing the abused flesh. He then stood up, kissing your softly.

“You ok?” He asked as you slumped forward, breathing deeply against his chest. He chuckled, kissing your forehead. He slipped off your heels and fixed himself, picking you up bridal style as he carried you out of the club bathroom.

“Where have you guys be-ohhhhh,” Denki wiggled his eyebrows as Katsuki knowingly as the blond mouthed ‘shut the fuck up’, and his ignored all of the playful taunts towards him.

“Jeez, Bakugou, knocked her out, huh?” Kirishima asked as the blond scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah, but it just lets all these other fuckers know that nobody can have her, also,” Bakugou smiled smugly.

“Nobody can beat the pussy up like me,”

[softxsuki]

So I saw that you had I tag I follow and immediately rushed over! So first and foremost...How are you? Are you drinking water daily? And I also wish you a good rest of days.

I was wondering since I rarely see this for Akatsuki no Yona. Like a Chubby reader. That's all. Like didn't they exist back then too?...

So basically Reader was Yona's personal maid, one of her most trusted friends like Hak and Soowon. So now they are apart of the group and basically feel out of place. She has a crush on Jae-ha but knowing he only goes for "attractive" women she doesn't act upon her feelings.

What happens next? 👀

Insecure Chubby!Reader Who Has A Crush On Jae-Ha

Pairing: Jae-ha x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Warnings: uh talking down about yourself, insecurities, lowkey suggestive at one point? but nothing crazy

Genre: comfort, fluff

Post-Type: Oneshot

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: In which you confess to Yona that you have a crush on Jae-ha, but he'd never like you back because you're chubby and he only goes for thin women. Little do you know that someone is listening in on all this o.o

[A/N: OMg hi...I KNOW I KNOW. It's been way over a year since you requested it. If you're still around, you're probably wondering what the heck this is as it's been long forgotten. I'm sorry it took me so long to write, I had it half written in my drafts all this time because I started second guessing myself and I really loved this request and didn't think I could do it justice. SO here's my completed version of this. I hope it's decent, and hopefully you're still interesting in reading it :'). Sorry if it's disappointing NFEKJFKAEF <;3]

It was night now. Months had passed since Yona ran out of her castle after her father's murder. Hak had saved the both of you from Soowoon’s revenge on her father as you would not back down and go to their side either. Yona loved and respected you, so you owed her everything, and that still hadn’t changed. You still refer to her as Princess, just like Hak, but the two of you were closer than ever–going beyond the friendship a personal maid and a Princess should probably ever have. 

Owls hooted in the background and the sound of crickets surrounded you. You had all stopped for the night to set up camp, and were currently in your shared tent with Yona and Yoon. The young boy was fast asleep in the far corner of the tent, exhausted from running around all day, but you and Yona were wide awake from the excitement of the day–too pumped to even think about sleeping just yet. Giggles escaped your mouth at the girl-talk that was being exchanged between you both, then Yona began to blush as you asked her about her feelings for Hak. You had noticed the change in the atmosphere between them for a while now.

“He’s just…different from how I used to see him? Instead of just seeing him as that annoying kid back then, he’s more of a man in my eyes now… He said some uh, lovely things to me the other night and it just made me realize my feelings even more,” She hides her head in her hands, thinking back on the deep conversation she had with the raven haired man a few nights ago, but clears her throat and turns the attention away from herself, “What about you, Y/N? Seen anyone in any villages that have caught your eye? Or perhaps even someone among us, hmm?”

You could hear the slight tease in her voice at her question, she fully knew who you liked, but wanted to hear you say it yourself. After all, what fun is girl-talk if she was the only one dropping juicy information.

“Well…there is someone I like, but he’d never go for a girl like me…” you trail off, looking down at your hands.

“Jae-ha would love you, Y/N. You’re gorgeous, kind, and you have a heart of gold, I see the way he looks at you whenever your back is turned.”

“W-what? How did you know it was Jae-ha?” You ask bewildered.

Yona laughs, placing a hand on your shoulder, “So it really is him? I was just making a lucky guess, wow.”

You huff. Perhaps it was a little obvious since you always got nervous around him and ONLY him. The slight disappointment that graced your features whenever he spoke of a beautiful woman he ran into in town. The tiny sparks of desire to have him speak to you with those lovely words, but it would never happen.

“He was probably just wondering why I can’t be so open with him like I am with everyone else,” You sigh. “I know I don’t belong here. You’re gorgeous and way above my social status. The other guys in our group are all very attractive as well, I’m the only one who sticks out like a sore thumb, but I guess I just have to deal with it!”

You fake a smile, regretting a little that you opened up too much. 

“Y/N, is that really how you’ve been feeling this whole time?” Yona asks, her voice now softer at your confession.

“It’s alright, really. I’m used to it by now, I don’t know why I suddenly decided to say that all right now. Everything’s okay!”

“No, everything’s not okay. Y/N, you are the most beautiful person I know. I don’t care if you think your extra weight makes you ugly compared to the rest of us, that doesn’t make a difference in my eyes and Jae-ha would be a fool to have that be a difference to him as well! Tell him how you feel! He would treat you like royalty.” Yona explains, a little enraged that you’ve been feeling this way all this time without her realizing it, “And I know we come from different backgrounds, but out here, we’re all the same. You and I are on the same level. You’re my best friend, and that won’t ever change! You are one of us, part of the happy hungry bunch! It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Thank you, Princess Yona. You’ve been a great blessing to me and I’m so very grateful to be your friend,” You smile slightly, but it falls again when you think of Jae-ha. “It seems that Jae-ha only goes for thin, beautiful women though. I can’t imagine him directing those compliments to me when I’m the complete opposite of all those women…I- I guess I just wish he could see me as a beautiful woman despite my weight. Even if it was only for a second.”

Yona once again assures you that you are indeed beautiful and that nothing is wrong with you. She was a little lost for words on what else she could say to help you feel better, she just wished you could see yourself the way that she saw you–a beautiful woman, inside and out. 

“If I’m so beautiful, then why won’t he look at me the way I want him to?” You shout in frustration, a little too loudly.

Your conversation is cut short though as the sound of shuffling is heard from outside the tent, along with the distant murmuring of the rest of the boys who were still awake, engaged in small talk.

“Will you both shut your mouths? I’m trying to sleep here. Y/N stop being a wimp and just confess to him already. You’ll never know until you at least try!” Yoon groans out with a huff, before light snores escape his mouth once again. 

“He’s right,” Yona whispers now, not wanting to awaken the tempered boy again, “But I guess this can all wait for another day. Let’s sleep, it’s getting pretty late.”

You both yawn at the same time and laugh lightly to yourselves. Perhaps it could wait…

Sleep consumes Yona pretty quickly, but your mind is plagued with a million thoughts that keep you up all night. It would be a tough day tomorrow.

…

The next day, your journey together continues as you finish packing up the last of your camp and continue forward. 

Yona and Hak had run up ahead of everyone else in the early morning to get in some more arrow shooting practice while the rest of you moved to catch up at a decent pace. You lagged behind a bit, lost in thought of everything you spoke about last night.

“Careful, wouldn’t want to run into a tree and ruin your beautiful face, now would we?” The sudden voice of the man you were thinking of, startles you back to reality along with the gentle touch of his arms around your shoulder, guiding you around a tree that you were seconds from walking straight into.

But all you could think about now was the presence of his warmth on your shoulder along with a word you had always longed to hear addressed to you–beautiful.

“Huh?” You ask a little frazzled, trying to control your breathing from his still present arms around you.

“You almost ran into the tree back there,” He smiles, now removing his arms from around your shoulders and awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

You both were now lagging behind the group who had finally joined back up with Yona and Hak. Yona sends you a quick thumbs up from afar, mouthing a ‘good luck,’ with a wink.

“Thank you,” you mumble to Jae-ha, ignoring Yona’s cheekiness, and continuing to walk to the rest of the group with your eyes glued to the ground. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t tell him.

You hear the man sigh behind you before firm arms pick you up bridal-style, and jump into the air as you let out a yelp, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck and hiding your face into his chest from being so high up. You were surprised that he was even able to lift you, but I guess all the dragons were fairly strong.

Your heart was hammering in your chest–both from the sudden action of being in the air, but also from being in close proximity to your crush. You could hear his own heart hammering in his chest, probably from having the fatigue of jumping while carrying something heavy (at least that’s what you think, his heart is definitely pounding for other reasons).

You can hear the distant joyful hollering of Yona and Zeno from afar, praising the green-headed man for his bold actions, to which Jae-ha chuckles at. It isn’t long until you’re safe on the ground again, far enough from the group now to have some privacy together. Jae-ha sets you down as you timidly scoot away from him and sit on the grass, trying to calm yourself down.

“What’d you do that for?” You ask hesitantly.

“A little bird told me that you’ve been talking down on yourself, is that true?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you avoid his eyes. You physically couldn’t look him in the eyes, you were far too embarrassed. Where had he heard that from?

He takes a seat beside you, gently reaching for a strand of your hair and admiring it as he twists it between his fingers. You’re frozen in shock. What was going on? 

His hand abandons your hair and gently grabs your chin to face him as his other hand wraps around your waist.

“And I’d love to know where you heard that I wasn’t completely infatuated by your beauty,” he teases.

Your eyes widen in shock.

“In fact, I love every inch of you, from the plumpness of your thighs to the softness of your stomach, your magnificent chest, and your puffy cheeks. You’re absolutely enchanting– a diamond among stones,” he continues.

“Your eyes, they outshine the beauty of any other woman in this land, you know why? Because they belong to you. I don’t care how big you think you are, but never talk like that about yourself again.” There was a certain sternness behind his voice now, as if he was really serious and hurt that you would think so badly of yourself.

“How did you-”

“I heard everything last night, Y/N. You have no idea how much self-control it took for me to not just burst into that tent and tell you everything right then and there. But I’m here now, and I can’t move forward until you know how much I love you. You’re beautiful and I won’t have you think otherwise.”

You were beyond baffled.

“All this out of nowhere? You’re always off fawning over all the beauties in town, but never at me. You’re just saying this to make me feel better, right? Well, it’s okay. I do like you, Jae-ha, but I don’t need your pity. You don’t need to like me back, I’ll be o-”

You’re cut off by the feeling of Jae-ha’s lips on yours. You can feel the emotion behind them as he was almost desperate to show you how real his feelings for you were. You lean into him, wrapping your own arms around him now, fully into the steamy kiss.

He pulls aways with a pant, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he laughs. “I hope you believe me now.”

“And to answer your question, I didn’t want to scare you off. I know how bold I can be, and a part of me loved watching you from afar, loving, admiring you in secret. It was exhilarating trying not to get caught,” he confesses. 

Yona’s words from that night echo in your head of how she had seen him watching you a few times. He really did like you…

“I’m surprised you never caught my wandering eyes. We need to work on you being more aware of your surroundings, darling. What if it was some other man gawking at you, and not me? Not that I’d let that happen…but still.” There he goes again with his teasing.

You playfully hit him on the shoulder, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, “Shut up,” you mumble, very embarrassed by all his words. You still couldn’t believe it, it was like all your dreams became a reality over-night.

Was this a dream? Because if it was, you never wanted to wake up. You cuddle further into him, hiding the heat that was quickly rushing to your face. You were overwhelmed, but in a good way. His own arms slither around you in a tight embrace.

“This is real right? You’re not just saying all this?”

“Of course this is all real, darling. And I’ll keep saying it all until you believe it. You’re under my care now,” He whispers that last part and leaves a peck to the top of your head. 

“I’ll take good care of you,” he confirms again, making sure you know it.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D

Posted: 1/24/2023

[thepeachyouhadtopick]

Hi! I thought the parts in your fic where Johnny and Ell were sneaking around and dating in secret was so cute. I noticed you take requests and I wanted to ask if you'd write a headcanon about them sneaking? I know you're past it in your fic now but I just feel hungry for more because it was so adorable LOL! TIA

i'm sorry this took me so long to publish! i just wanted to be sure it was right before i posted it i hope it's ok!!

johnny and ell dating in secret headcanon

blowing kisses to each other across the set when nobody’s looking

texting each other dirty messages during work or in the van

hugging each other for just a moment longer in the morning and at night

and like before they dated it would just be a friendly arms thrown round each other, a pat on the back or whatever

but now they’re dating Ell hugs him with her arms around his waist and Johnny with his arms like under her armpits idk I hope that makes sense?? just so they can hold each other extra close

and honestly it amazes them that nobody notices that they hug tighter and for longer

notes under the motel doors even though they can text each other

and they both keep each note obviously but neither of them tell the other that they’ve been keeping them

holding hands under the table at dinner whenever they get the chance

and accidentally falling asleep on each other in the van

but sometimes not even falling asleep just allowing themselves to enjoy the contact for a minute

steve-o and stephanie always giving them the heads up in case anyone is about to catch them being all mushy together

but at the same time also making steve and steph wanna puke with how sickly sweet they are during the time they actually get to spend together

sharing food on set omg

like if Johnny’s eating a nice snack he offers Ell some just so they can have another interaction (i feel like he would’ve done this before he knew she liked him too???)

yanking each other behind a wall or a van just to steal a kiss

and giggling about it

his lil nervous hands whenever they talked on set normally (ofc he was like this before they got together too because she made him flustered without even trying)

like in the first few weeks he would just stumble over his words n be extra considerate of everything he said and did

Ell would wanna make sure she looked good for him at first, but not like she made too much effort

she would just consider her outfits a little more each morning

and maybe remember to wash her hair a little more often

eventually she realises that PJ couldn’t give a fuck how she dressed because he was down so bad for her

Rick or Dimitry or someone else took a casual / off-guard behind-the-scenes photo of them together just hanging out or waiting around to shoot and they’re desperate to see it because it’s their first couple picture together

like they’re literally just stood next to each other but they need to see it

if they were all out at a bar and everyone was drunk Johnny would take the opportunity to leave lingering touches on the small of Ell’s back as they walked through the crowded room because everyone was less likely to notice

and he would always offer to get her a drink from the bar

or a snack from the shop if they stopped somewhere during travelling

OH and if he injured himself during a stunt every so often he’d ask if Ell had any more bandages in her bag (the ones she usually brought along for Steve-O) just so he could enjoy the feeling of Ell taking care of him and they could share a quiet moment together, holding their gazes and smiling as Ell cleaned him up so carefully even though there was a medic on site

quiet and slow make out sessions when Ell got to sneak into Johnny’s motel room

lottttttts of touching because they’ve both spent an entire day entirely touch-starved for each other

the thrill of getting caught encouraging them a little too much

Johnny gently playing with Ell’s clit and/or fingering her with his free hand covering her mouth to muffle any sounds she might make

both of them giggling at the sound of Ell’s muffled whines

similarly Johnny would totally be biting down on his hand so he didn’t moan when Ell gave him head

Johnny would always be wearing his Aviators so he could just stare at Ell without anyone noticing

he’d get a little jealous of the other guys flirting with Ell but he trusted her and he knew that they wouldn’t do it if they knew about their relationship

tbh he loved seeing her get along with the other guys so well and acting dumb with them all

occasionally a pet name will slip through like ‘doll’ or ‘sweetheart’/‘sweetie’ and Johnny just tries to style it out which Ell finds very cute

when he’s alone in his hotel room every so often secretly he’ll listen to Ell’s music or watch her music videos or read interviews with her on his laptop just bc he misses her face or her voice and wants to know more about her even though she’s literally in the room next door

like he’s secretly a massive fan of her music ever since they first met

they’re always talking about music in general or their favourite movies or books

like it’s clear to everyone that they have a lot of common interests but nobody really thinks anything of it because they both let the others join in their conversations too

it PAINS them both to be sneaking around because they both just wanna show off how they feel about each other

so it’s actually a blessing in disguise when they finally get caught out by everyone

honestly it amazes them both that nobody clocked anything before steve-o accidentally let it slip

and ofc they are so happy that everyone approves of them

link to the fic if any of you haven't read it before!

[skarletterambles]

On today's episode of "I could reblog that and add my thoughts, but that might invite drama nobody (including me) asked for, so I'll just make a new post over here"...

The OP I decided not to bother said this:

(It has the same energy as "I'm not prejudiced, but...")

"Undeniable," huh? Hold my beer.

If your parents are abusive or toxic, I'm sure that statement is true. You can't heal from trauma that's ongoing any more than you can heal a scubbed knee if you keep dragging it across the sidewalk.

It sucks that anyone has to deal with living in a toxic environment, crappy parents, etc. I sincerely hope things get better soon for everyone in that situation.

But not everyone is in that situation.

I admit my kneejerk reaction was something along the lines of, "You don't know me and my situation so how dare you make assumptions and then judge me based on them." But of course I don't know OP or the commenters, either. I imagine the original was a quick vent post that wasn't meant to be a blanket statement, nor to spread and attract drama. The comments still turned into a shitshow that I didn't want to stir in; thus my own post.

In what shouldn't be news to anyone, everyone is a different person, living in a different situation with different family, with different history and culture, in a different socioeconomic stratum, and with different physical and mental health conditions, and therefore what is wonderful for one person is hell for another and vice versa. Or to shorten it to a meme: your experience is not universal.

Personally, I live with my parents because the choice is literally that or homelessness. Period. I'm fine with it, honestly, and consider myself lucky to have this option.

When I'm not at work or occasionally out with a friend, I want to just be quiet at home, which jives well with two 70-something retirees. I'm aro/ace so there's no awkward romance to work around. I'm an only child so there are no siblings to complicate the situation.

I have a great relationship with my mom. I used to with my dad, as well, but personality changes after his stroke have made it harder. I still love him, though. As they both age and deal with chronic health issues, I'm glad I'm here and able to help. It was the same when my grandmother lived the last twenty-odd years of her life with us, too.

I can only work part-time due to a medically documented disability, so I cannot afford to live on my own. (Hell, a lot of people with multiple jobs or full-time jobs can't afford that these days, either.) No one in my extended family is well off, and we try to help each other whenever possible. Any extra support my parents could give is already tied up keeping another family member from ending up on the street--which I'm glad they can do! We're all in this together. (For the record, I buy all my own stuff plus contribute to the grocery budget for the household, and I pay some of the household bills as well as my personal ones.)

I would absolutely love more alone time, but I wouldn't want to go days at the time without seeing family, either. Ideally I'd like to live next door, or in a detached guest house, so I could choose how much time I spend with my parents and still have a place that was all mine. I'd love to pick how to organize cupboards, how to decorate, etc. I get to do some of that already, but having a place be truly mine would be great. These are not huge issues that keep me awake at night, though.

I interact with a lot of unhoused persons at my job in a public library, and I'm frequently reminded of how much privilege I have. I have a reliable roof over my head with heating/air-conditioning, laundry, a kitchen, hot and cold running water that is safe to drink, a good winter coat, food to eat, etc. I live in an area that has a relatively low crime rate, and is nowhere near a war zone. I do not experience racism, transphobia, or homophobia. I have not been touched by a natural disaster.

Nobody's life is perfect. Some are better than mine. Lots are worse.

What is true for OP isn't true for me. What is true for me isn't true for OP. What is true for either of us isn't true for a hypothetical third person. I'm not trying to slam a gavel down and scream "YOU'RE WRONG!" at OP or those who agree with them. I just had thoughts to unload about the nuances. Which I did.

So now I'll shut up. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[sardonic-sprite]

I'm Back!

Wow, so Lent is over now, so my tumblr fast is also over and I'm still a little in shock, lol. I had hoped the past six weeks? I don't know, Time is weird, would be more productive but at least I got SOME stuff written/posted. Anyway, I have one more month of school and then fucking FINALS so expect sporadic updates at idiot-o-clock hours of the night, and maybe yell at me to sleep, eat, study, or drink water whenever i do post 😅

I am up to SO EFFING MANY wips rn on so many different fronts you guys have no freaking idea 😭 so here's a status report for EVERYTHING on or going on sardonic_sprite. (Its gonna be a monster post, y'all, bear with me)

in absolutely no particular order:

Wayne4Ham: We have a LONG way to go with this one, so just be patient and I'll slowly but steadily plug on through. Aaron Burr, Sir, should theoretically take me no longer than end of april

Wayne-Crazy: there's like 4 specific requests on it, plus a few 'series' i started, but after those, say 6-7, i'll probably mark as complete and only re-open if someone offers me an idea

Batman Beginners: i'll tell y'all up front, this one will take me forever. i don't even know what all I intend to cover, but know that i'm halfway done with the DITF arc, and it'll probably come out in the next two months

Just A Kid: this was my shits-and-giggles fic that got like 3000 notes in a weekend lmao. it's something i do intend to continue bc its so fun and i enjoy the concepts in it, but i don't have plans to actively write more of it in the immediate future.

Rev Wayne: just gave y'all Jason's fic, so the next probably won't come until late in summer, extrapolating from my few data points. if anyone has ideas for timmy's intro, let me know, i'd love some inspiration

Celeb Batwaynes: reported separate from wayne-crazy for reasons. i think theres like 12 specific requests plus 2 ideas of my own. i may put out a poll for the next one to write, but not until after school's out, because these fics are HUGE time-eaters for me. speaking of, are non-tumblr-users able to vote on polls?

Welcome to Gotham U: this was again, me doing shit bc why not. will probably add more in the style that i first posted, but i doubt i will write any prose for it. if you would like to give it a try, please reach out, i'd love to see what you write!

One Diamond: every time i touch this i make the cliffhanger worse lmao. i finally do have a direction, but execution is gonna have to wait a while.

The Young, Innocent, and Righteous: this is mostly just for me anyway, but i'm just gonna say that i'm waiting until i finish watching miraculous season 5 before i go any further

AS you wish: i have 5 more requests to do and i am so sorry to everyone waiting you do not deserve this lmao. i promise im trying, i love your ideas, it just takes me a really long time to fill in the rest and then actually write it. the next one on my list is particularly hard to pin down and so it's halting the ones behind it to. if not before, then after finals i will sit and bang my head on the keyboard until something good comes out

Light Isn't Fadin': soooooo many people have asked me about this one oof. SOMEDAY, i swear. right now its a huge, nebulous, hulking monster and im sorry it's just not happening yet.

A christmas carol: wait until december. please

Father's Day: june.

A Little Problem: over the summer, i will watch marvel movies until they once again hijack my brain and fuel this to completion. maybe.

easter eggs: how the fuck did i forget this lmao. i'm doing as much as i can in april, but when the month is done, i'm sorry, we'll all be waiting until next lenten season. hopefully it won't come to that.

aaaaand i THINK that's finally it. there's also a bunch of random paragraphs in word and google docs that may appear, not to mention ideas that kidnap me in dark alleys. but i also have like a good half dozen other wips for other places that im trying to attend to, so please be forgiving if it seems like its taking a while to post something as sprite.

as always, i love questions, comments, concerns, even some complaints, so feel free to interact.

See ya when I see ya!

sprite

[barclaysangel]

Where You Bean All My Life?

Okay, this is basically for the amazing @streets-in-paradise because we both love Andy and this man deserves some love and romance in his life.

This is a ship I created between Andy and my original character, Natalie Valentine. If you want some more info on, please check out this post but also ask about her because I would love to talk more about Natalie! This little oneshot kind of spawned from an idea I got of Natalie owning a coffee shop and little cute ideas of her and Andy came out of it. Lucy wanted me to write it so I decided to finally do it to cheer her up from the pain of canon (seriously, fuck canon, let Andy be happy for once!). I hope you like this, sweetface!

And everyone else who reads this, feel free to comment what you think as well and if I should continue writing more for Natalie x Andy or just Natalie in general! This is my first time writing for Natalie (also my first time posting something written involving Andy, I've written him before but never posted it since it's part of something Lucy and I are working on) so I'm both nervous and excited!

Thank you and enjoy! :)

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: Cursing, suggestive themes, not proofread (*Tiffany and NicaChucky voice* proofreading is for losers!), Andy being happy and so damn in love (yes I'm making this a warning, I don't want anyone getting a heart attack from this rare sight)

Summary: Another day at work for Natalie, another day for Andy to pay her a visit, and another day for the both of them to remember how much they love each other.

This coffee shop was her baby. 

Natalie worked hard to build her cafe from the ground up. She put her time and effort into it and so far, it had paid off. She owned “Short and Steamy Cafe”, a name that still made her giggle because she enjoyed people’s reactions whenever she would tell them what it was called. 

Even though Natalie owned the shop, she still worked there quite frequently. The cafe was her pride and joy, she enjoyed dedicating her time into it and making sure personally that business was going well. Besides, making coffee and baking were a really good stress reliever for her. And she loved seeing her customers pleased with whatever drink or baked goods she came up with. 

Today was another day where she was working. She felt almost at peace, humming under her breath as she stood behind the register. It was the slow part of the day, not a lot of customers bustling through. Natalie appreciated those times, where she could breathe in the scent of coffee and warm food in the air and allow herself to be calm. It was perfect. 

Well, what cemented the perfection was the person who walked through the doors in that moment. 

Andy Barclay.

God, even thinking of his name made her heart flutter. And the sight of him made her damn near swoon where she stood. 

“Hey there, handsome.” Natalie all but purred as she playfully smirked at him. 

“Isn’t wrong to flirt with customers?” Andy asked lightly, his own smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Not when I’m the boss and the customer is my favorite one that I go home to every night,” she retorted and reveled in his lovely sounding chuckle, “now, what can I get ya?” 

Andy thought about it for a moment before looking at her. “Surprise me.” 

Natalie couldn’t help but to smirk again. “I never thought you’d say something like that outside of the bedroom.” 

“Natalie!” He quickly scolded her, his face flushing red from her comment. 

She couldn’t help but to giggle at his reaction and held her hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry, sorry, I’m stopping.” She giggled again under her breath before quickly shaking her head when she noticed Andy taking out his wallet. “Nope, it’s on the house.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Nat, no, this is the third time this week, I have to pay you. I don’t want to be bad for business.” 

“Oh, please, you’ll barely put a dent,” She waved him off, “consider it as a boyfriend discount.” 

“It’s not a discount if it’s free!” Andy said in exasperation tone, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“Just go and wait for your damn drink, Andy!” Natalie  smiled and chuckled, nudging her head to the side so he could wait to get his drink. 

He seemed to have given up, rolling his eyes and starting to walk off…until he quickly shoved two five dollar bills into the tip jar and then proceeded to walk away from the register. 

“Andrew!” Natalie nearly exclaimed, staring at him in surprise with her mouth open. “That’s too much for one coffee!” 

“Just helping business, babe.” Andy said with a smirk, the son of a bitch knowing that she wasn’t going to be able to do anything about it. 

Fuck, he drove her insane. 

And she loved every minute of it. 

Natalie got one of her employees to tend to the next customer so she could go make Andy’s drink. She always enjoyed being the one to make his drinks, having told him before that she always made them with love. They always got a laugh out of Andy, and then his cheeks would turn that pretty shade of pink, making her want to take a picture so it’ll last longer. It was something she nearly said out loud right now because she could feel her man staring at her as she began making his coffee. 

Good lord, everything he did made her like a school girl having a crush. They had been dating for a year now, she thought that would shift into something else. But no, she still had a crush on him and was in love with him. 

Was this what love felt like? Natalie thought to herself. She was almost certain that it was. Her mother would say that love was supposed to set someone free. Well, she did feel free whenever she was with Andy. Free to be herself without facing any judgement, knowing that she’ll be accepted and loved no matter what. 

Then again, it’s not like her mother always had the best advice. Natalie did stop listening to her years ago. But maybe, just maybe, she was right on this one. 

Natalie hummed under her breath a song that was ringing through her head as she decided to make two drinks, one for Andy and one for herself. She combined different flavors together, pumpkin and caramel, personal favorites of hers, before finishing up one drink. She took a little extra time with Andy’s, finishing up the final touch. She took the foam and carefully crafted a heart on the top of coffee. 

Foam art was something Natalie was quite good at, it wasn’t a secret. She has done foam art for most of her customers, particularly during holidays where she’d make a pumpkin for Halloween or a snowman for Christmas, but especially to Andy. With him, it would range from a little smiley face, a rose, his own name, or just a simple “HI!” being enthusiastically drawn on there. 

Today, it was a heart because he was making her own heart race with his gaze on her at all times and the fact that he had stolen her heart years ago. 

Wow, maybe I really am cheesy.

“Here, love.” Natalie left the counter to hand him his coffee, holding her own coffee in her other hand. “I’m taking my break now, you’re stuck with me for the next fifteen minutes.” 

“You sure your boss would be okay with that?” Andy joked before looking at the foam art she left on his drink. She immediately got the response that she wanted, her boyfriend blushing and smiling at the little heart. “Jesus, you’re so good at this!” 

Natalie smiled shyly, always feeling bashful when it came to her art. “C’mon, Andy, a beginner could make a foam heart. It’s not that impressive. Maybe next time I’ll make you an anatomically accurate foam heart.” 

He paused for a moment. “That…actually sounds terrifying but also somehow romantic? What the fuck?” 

She immediately giggled and leaned forward to kiss his cheek, taking his free hand in hers to guide him over to one of the tables. It was their usual area where they would sit whenever Natalie was on break or not even working. They could sit there for hours and talk about anything that came into mind. 

How could she have somehow found peace in her chaotic life with someone she never expected? Someone that was supposed to be her enemy? 

Well, fuck the rules. Natalie never liked them anyway. She preferred to do whatever the hell she wanted…and whoever she wanted too. 

“You know, you’re here so often I might as well hire you.” She said with a playful smile after she sat down, watching Andy sit down in front of her. 

“Oh, I’m not so sure, I heard that workplace romances can get quite messy.” Andy joked back and took a sip of his coffee. He closed his eyes, humming in delight, before opening them again. “Holy shit, where do you come up with these flavors?” 

“What can I say? My brain can be very creative!” Natalie said proudly, a sly smile dancing on her lips before sipping her own drink. Fuck, he was right, this was good. “Maybe I should add this on the menu.” She mused out loud. 

“You absolutely should, this is fucking great.” He praised her again, making her grin and nudge her foot against his and he did the same thing back. 

“Andy honey, wanna hear a joke?” She asked excitedly, the joke she came up with having been on her mind for hours and wanting desperately to tell someone. 

Andy playfully groaned, about to take another sip before halting his motion. “Oh god…” 

“Come on, it’s a good one!” Natalie giggled, knowing that her boyfriend was just playing around. 

He raised an eyebrow slightly before sighing. “Alright, fine. Let’s hear it.” 

She grinned, straightening up and putting on her serious face. “What did the coffee say to the other coffee?” 

Andy sighed again, leaning against his chair and pretending that he didn’t want to participate in the joke for a few seconds. “What?” 

Natalie couldn’t fight the wide smile away from her face anymore. “Where you bean all my life?” 

“Oh my god…” Andy put his face in one hand while his girlfriend all but cackled, high-pitched giggles escaping her lips from her own joke, “that was so bad…” 

“No it wasn’t! I can see you smiling!” She quickly retorted, having caught onto the smile he was trying to hide with his hand. 

“That was a smile of pain.” He threw back at her but she could see him smiling more despite his words. 

Natalie rolled her eyes, giggling some more. “Whatever, as if you can do better!” 

“Maybe not in a joke, but I could in a pickup line.” Her boyfriend said, immediately capturing her attention. 

“Oooh, tell me, tell me, tell me!” She repeatedly childishly, leaning forward to eagerly hear whatever pickup line Andy had in his arsenal. 

He chuckled under his breath, growing bashful now that Natalie was putting him on the spot but then he finally spoke. “Did you sit on some sugar?” 

Natalie raised an eyebrow, not knowing where this was going but was certainly intrigued. “Hmmm, why?” 

Just like Natalie when she was telling her joke, Andy couldn’t help but to smirk. “Because you have a sweet ass.” 

She tried to keep a straight face but quickly failed, dropping her head as she began giggling hysterically again. She could hear Andy laughing as well, that sweet and shy laugh that always had her quietly fawning over how cute her boyfriend was. 

“Okay, I’ll give you that, that was a pretty good pickup line,” Natalie said after she managed to control her laughter, “and pretty accurate too, I was baking earlier so I probably actually have sugar on my ass!” 

“That explains it!” Andy teased, making her lightly kick his leg and just like earlier, he returned the action while they both laughed again. 

Eventually, they settled back into a peaceful moment, the both of them embracing the silence in the air that flowed between them. They drank some more of their coffee, their feet still touching because Natalie had to be physically touching Andy in some way at all times, whether it be their shoulders brushed against one another or her hand down the back pocket of his jeans. She couldn’t help herself, she just loved feeling him. 

After a few more minutes of them being quiet, Andy spoke up. “What do you want for dinner tonight, love?” 

“Baby, you could make Kraft Mac n Cheese and I’ll be happy.” Natalie replied truthfully, making her boyfriend chuckle. 

“Don’t tempt me, I still have a few boxes left.” He joked lightly, reaching his hand out and she placed her hand in his. 

“Maybe I could make some dumplings.” She suggested with a shrug of her shoulders. 

“I love your dumplings, but I know that you did a lot of baking today, you deserve a break.” He replied before thinking about it for a moment. “Why don’t we just order in some pizza?” 

Natalie nodded and smiled. “Sure, I could eat some pizza. Especially if it’s pepperoni.”

“Don’t worry, babe, I’ll get you your pepperoni pizza.” Andy said while chuckling, rubbing his thumb against her knuckles in comforting circles. 

She stared at him for a moment, her heart once again pounding in her chest. She felt giddy, like she was falling in love over and over again over the smallest thing. 

Maybe this was what love really felt like. Feeling like it was the first time even if it’s happened a million times. Every touch, every look, every word making Natalie realize how lucky she was to have Andy. He made her world stop spinning and made her feel like there was no one else, just the two of them. There was no pain, no sorrow, no suffering. There was only love, happiness, and joy. 

She wanted to live in this world forever and never leave. 

Natalie stood up from her chair and leaned over the table, Andy doing the same and his lips meeting hers halfway. She still held his hand as they kissed softly, her other hand reaching up to cup his cheek and feeling him smile lightly against her mouth before pulling away slightly to look at him. 

“I love you.” Natalie whispered to him, staring into his hazel eyes that always made her melt. 

Andy smiled happily back at her, turning his head to plant a kiss on the palm of her hand that was resting on his cheek. “Not as much as I love you.” 

[musicforspaandearthquake]

ambient and healing culture

Right now I'm listening to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzQifMBbKfw.

It just came on after I accidentally switched out of a different Japanese modern classical album I was listening to:

In the comment section of the first, I saw the poster had posted this: "hey folks, sorry for the huge hiatus. my life has taken a turn for the worse since last year and i lost most of my love for music. i lost both jobs, my mother is dying in a hospital bed and i've been in a depressed slump, drinking and playing minecraft all day. i don't know when or if i'll ever feel like finding and buying new tunes, and i've been proscratinating to upload my music backlog since uhh 2021 i think. if anyone has any music recommendations for someone who's in the worst moment of their life, please let me know (bandcamp links preferred). idk if i'll upload anything for the moment, but i just want to enjoy music again. thanks for reading, take care, don't drink or do drugs, i hope this channel has made your days better sometimes"

The next comment, posted by a different user, reads: "I defeated today's crippling depression and was able to finally complete tasks because of your upload. Major thanks to you and the artist."

The original poster of the music, responded: "as someone who struggles with depression himself, this made me tear up a little. i hope you're taking care of yourself and feeling a bit better!"

A third person then responded: "seeing this comment allowed me to jump over my own hurdle and take control of the rest of my night. Thank you, P. Good luck out there whenever you may be"

*

All of this made me think of the relation between ambient music and "healing culture" as Paul Roquel puts it in his book Ambient Media, in particular with regards to the healing culture of Japan. In fact, I stumbled upon these comments while reading Roquel's book online, and skipping around between a discussion of "healing style" in Japanese literature (which Roquel calls "ambient literature"), as well Roquels' thoughts on ambient music "providing a space to think" (per Eno's terms.

*

Other relations: passivity and "nonobtrusiveness" (as in Eno as well), the selfishness of healing culture in relation to social justice and issues (also seen in Cage, and the anecdote in Carrerre).

*

What relationship does ambient have to "healing culture" or "therapy culture?

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Relationship obviously as well with the experience of the comments which stem from Yves Tumor song, depression, suicide, online healing communities through comments sections, ambient as a space for healing, as seen in Leaving Records as well.

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Name of blog post: music for spa and earthquake.

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Japanese ambient aesthetics as seen as a country trying to heal itself.

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[shawtuzi]

more of plug eren plssss it was too good 😩😩

OFCCCC

this might be a little messy and rushed but i hope y’all like it </3

this is 18+///cw include: smut, some fluff, drug usage, black coded reader

- plug!eren loves buying you different kinds of jewelry his favorite being the silver anklet with a small e dangling from it. he loves the way it jingles ever so softly by his ear whenever he’s got you on your back legs up in the air. ah yes he loves that anklet very much but the tennis necklace that sits so pretty on your neck is a close second

- whenever you sleepover at his apartment (which is almost every night) he’s always the first to wake up and does his daily wake and bake. he ofc has another blunt set aside for when you wake up knowing you wouldn’t let him hear the end of it for smoking without you

- i don’t see him being much of a drinker for obvious reasons but when he does drink girl he is a SLUT!!! give this man a couple shots of hennessy and he’ll have you folded in a mating press whining and bitching about how much he wants to cum in you and how much he loves you. get him cross faded and he’ll become the definition of a service dom, giving you multiple orgasms until you have to tap out only for him to breathlessly plead in your ear, “c’mon baby just one more time you feel so fucking good”

- plug!eren’s first post with the two of you on his ig is captioned “me & my bitch” and this man genuinely thought he was being romantic and still does to this day so he refuses to change it

- plug!eren will never admit it to anyone except you ofc but he loves baking. you don’t know when he got into it or why but he loves it and he infuses everything obviously. you tried making a simple red velvet with him one night and everything was going fine until you suggested the two of you have some wine while you wait which lead to eren suggesting a quickie which lead to the poor cake slowly burning while eren had your face pushed in his mattress

- KING OF BACKSHOTS!!!! omfg the way he can reach so deep and bump against that special spot with every stroke is straight up insanity. he def does the thing where he holds his shirt up with his teeth so he can see himself fucking into you

- don’t even think about buying from another plug or even a dispensary plug!eren considers it cheating but 10x worse

- “where did you get that?” eren asked referring to the disposable pen you were holding. “umm….connie….” you mumbled looking everywhere but eren’s face. “wow y/n just wow” he huffed crossing his arms an adorable pout on his face. you learned that day that plug!eren is very possessive over his clientele especially you

- baby boy secretly loves to be praised whether it’s about his looks, his performance in bed, or how good his weed is he just loves hearing good things about himself

- is the type to grab you by your throat/jaw and say “stop playin’ with me” whenever ur acting bratty and then gives u a lil kiss on the lips to let you know you’re gonna get ur way. he just cannot help but spoil you his woman deserves the finest of everything in this world

- your contact name in his phone is “wife” and the contact picture is a pic of you sleeping clutching onto the hello kitty plushie he bought for you

- plug!eren absolutely adores having slow sensual sex while he’s high!!! he loves having you ride him omfg the way he’s able to slowly run his hands over your body and admire the pretty fucked out look on your face <333 the dirty talk is elite as well and don’t even get me started on his facial expressions

- “fuuuck you feel so good baby” eren rasped using what little strength he had to bounce you on his dick. you couldn’t even reply your mind too foggy to come up with a response all you could muster were tiny moans and whines. he looked so pretty. his brows were furrowed and his nose was scrunched homeboy was completely basked in the feeling of your pussy. “this fucking pussy i swear y/n i’m gonna fuck a kid in you if you keep squeezin’ me like that” *screams internally*

- loves to roll blunts on you. he’ll roll up on your tits, back, ass, stomach it doesn’t matter he just loves to do it

- plug!eren doesn’t like to share as we all know but there was this one time you convinced him to watch you and mikasa fool around and he liked it way more then he admitted. smoking a blunt and watching the two women he trusted more than anything make out and touch each other??? yeah he loved it but don’t worry eren knew good and well his dick belonged to you and would never think about be intimate with another woman even if you were okay with it no one compares to his pretty lil gf </3