#i always am but now without typos as well lol

[changbinsboiledegg]

skz with a very needy!sub??? 👀

btw your so cool i could give you a big smooch on the cheeks please never stop being cool

Thank you for thinking I am cool. What are we?

GN? Reader X SKZ

(Tried to keep some terms general, if that makes sense. No specific body parts were mentioned except for, yk, d1ck.)

MDNI!!!!!!!!

Warning: Dom x Needy Sub dynamic?, swearing, usage of vulgar language, teasing, some are hard doms, some are soft, usage of seggs toys, semi-public seggs mention, smut (only a little), protected or unprotected seggs— that’s up to you. Lol.

Note: I’m so sorry this is late, it’s been a shit month (year). I’ll learn to spell s*x properly when I’m rich. Until then, it’s SEGGS. (Joking) But regardless, here you go lovely. As always, if no one has told you, Ilyyyy 🫶🫶 If you see any typos, please bypass them I'm sorry.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Chan

He doesn’t give in easily when you’re very needy. Surely you’re aware of this by now.

But that doesn’t stop you from trying everything under the sun to turn him on and need you just as much as you needed him.

“Please!” You begged, literally on your knees in front of him. He just looked down at you, unphased.

“Please what?” His gaze held you captive.

“Please…” you couldn’t finish that sentence, you brain turning to mush. You mentally cursed, hating that he made you nervous after you so confidently stripped in front of him slowly.

“Come on. Can’t fuck you if you don’t know what you want.” Chan stood firm on his role as your dom.

“Please fuck me.” You finally mustered out, meeting his gaze. Chan smirked.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Lee Know

Minho knew you were needy when it came to sex, but he specifically knew when you were needy.

He always knew what to do to make your neediness increase. He loved seeing you get so turned on.

Of course, he wasn’t evil. He always gave you the satisfaction you wanted, however, he definitely was going to play with you first.

You squirmed in your seat, trying to control your breathing as Minho remotely controlled the vibrator inside of you. He continuously changed modes, either sending you close to the edge or fueling your need for more.

“Had enough yet?” Minho asked. It was clear that he enjoyed teasing you. You whimpered as the vibrations send shivers through your body.

“I want you!” Your tone a pleading one. Minho took in the sight of you for a moment— a complete mess for him by him.

“I guess you’ve earned it. Come here.”

Changbin

When you were needy, Changbin didn’t waste a second. He wanted to give you what you wanted while still being in control.

You came to him, being extra clingy, knowing the second Changbin became just as touchy with you, he would make you feel so good that you would have trouble remembering your name for the minutes that followed.

You started out slow, mindlessly playing with his hand before it ended up resting on your thigh. Then slowly, he’d find himself sliding it towards your inner thigh, gripping and squeezing the flesh under.

Then he’d feel the result of your neediness and within a few seconds, he’s inside of you, taking you hard to satisfy your neediness.

At least in that moment, that is.

Hyunjin

He’s used to your neediness by now and even enjoys the fact that he’s able to turn you on without having to do anything.

He loves seeing the way you react to his actions, no matter how simple. Hyunjin doesn’t like making you wait, though.

One minute he’s running his fingers through his hair, the next he has you bent over and taking him so well, you forgot about everything troubling you.

“Hnng! Hyun-Hyunjin!” You felt his hand clasp over your mouth as he took you harder— faster.

“Shh, don’t want the others to hear you cum, right?” He whispered sharply close to your ear. You shook your head, but in the back of your mind, you thought about how you wouldn’t mind anyone else hearing how good he’s making you feel.

Han

“Can we sneak to the bathroom or somewhere private?” You asked Jisung, feeling particularly needy that day. Turns out you tend to feel needy at the wrong times.

“Why? What happened?” Jisung was oblivious at first, showing genuine concern. He thought you were having a good time at this party, and you were, but you wanted a different kind if fun.

“It concerns your dick.” You whispered, feigning innocence for the partygoers around you two. By the look on his face, he seemed just as needy to be inside of you in some way.

“Okay, I see now…” he immediately looked towards the nearest bathroom. “What if someone hears—“

As soon as you caught his gaze, you pulled him towards the bathroom. Jisung chuckled, “you know I’m in control, right?”

“This isn’t about control,” you shut the door and locked it, then immediately lowered to your knees. “It’s about need. And I need you now.”

Felix

You’d begged all day, the need for him to touch you in any way that he could was gnawing at you.

And still, Felix continued to tease you, making you beg more just for begging in the first place.

“Felix, please. I’m going to die if you don’t—“

Felix drowned your next words out by crashing his lips onto yours, his hand cupping your jaw just enough to keep your head in place, but not to hurt you.

“Tell me, darling. What is it you want exactly?” Felix’s breathy voice filled your ears once his lips departed yours.

“I need you. Whether it’s inside of me or-or…” you were trembling. Not from fear, but from the aching feeling between your legs. Felix kissed you again, softer this time.

“Lay back. I think you’ve earned it now.”

Seungmin

“No.” Seungmin said, not wavering in his response to your neediness. He knew you’ve been in a constant state of arousal since the event started but he wasn’t about to cut it short just to give in to your desires— or his, for that matter.

You felt a wave of disappointment but understood. You just wished he would do something immediately.

Seungmin looked over at you and discreetly placed his hand on your thigh underneath the table you two were sat at.

“Don’t look so sad. I’ll reward you when we get home.” He winked before gently squeezing your thigh, leaving shivers of need running up and down your body.

“Can you hold out for another hour?” He added in a low whisper, “or are you going to be impatient like last time?”

You wanted so badly to answer ‘yes’ to the second question, knowing your release would be delayed, but at least he’d start immediately.

But your patience always earned you the best orgasms. Fuck. You had to think carefully, and Seungmin was awaiting your response with a half raised eyebrow.

“I can hold out.”

Seungmin smirked, “good.”

I.N

Jeongin was never one to make you wait or delay your release whenever you were particularly needy for him.

Sometimes you wondered who was the dom and who was the sub.

of course, when you two were alone, you were reminded of your role as he filled you up while his hands tightly gripped your wrists, pinning you down into the mattress.

Even as he pounded into you, your body feeling the shocks of relief from the pent up tension between you two, you still felt needy for him.

“Ohmygod—“ you gasped, leading into a wordless cry of pleasure as you felt that familiar knot building up in your stomach.

“You’re so cute. You act like this is the first time I’ve fucked you like this.” Jeongin grunted, his pace unrelenting.

You knew by now that you were in for a long night.

[xxsabitoxx]

Team Bucciarati & Accidentally walking in on you while you are changing

Warning: all characters are 18+ in this situation, kinda suggestive content ahead if you squint? Well beside Mista’s but… really nothing crazy lol

Reader is female!

A/N: I have like 37 fucking JJBA smuts I could finish yet here I am writing this stupid shit LMAO — also my phone is acting so infuriating lately so please bear with me if there are any typos Proof read? Never

Giorno Giovanna

He knocks, every single time, so how this even happened is beyond him. Maybe it was because your door was slightly ajar, maybe it was because it was only the two of you home in the apartment the entire gang shared, whatever the reason was… Giorno still failed to knock. “Y/n do you ha—oh.” He froze midway through the door, eyes widening ever so slightly as he looked at you. You were mid-change, a shirt on but no pants, panties sticking to your frame as you turned to face him. “Giorno!?” You yelped, grabbing the closest item to shield your lower half — in this case it was your pillow. “I’m sorry I…” he was turning around so you only saw his back. “I just wanted to ask you something but it can certainly wait till you are decent…” he was making his way back out of your room, face burning just as brightly as yours.

Bruno Bucciarati

He wasn’t thinking, knuckles hitting your door a few times and pushing it open without waiting for a response. “Y/n I need you to help me with this paperwork…” he locked eyes with you, his tired brain taking a second to process that you looked shocked. “B-Bruno!” Your hands were over your bare chest, hugging your breasts tightly. He blinked once, twice, three times before his cheeks were turning neon red. You’d never seen him exit your room so quickly, hand over his mouth as he clicked the door shut. “My deepest apologies…” he was muffled from behind your door but you could still hear the embarrassment in his voice. “I am… so so sorry… forgive me I…” you began to laugh, reaching for a shirt to throw over yourself. A second later, you were opening your bedroom door. “No need to apologize, Bruno. It’s alright.” Your cheeks were still warm, but it felt less awkward seeing how shy he had gotten. You found it rather cute.

Pannacotta Fugo

It’s a rare occasion for Fugo to even come close to your room. He probably couldn’t even accurately describe it if he wanted too. So how he ended up where he was now? So red in the face he was nearly purple? Was still a mystery to him. “Oh? Hi Fugo.” You smiled, reaching for your perfume, it seemed you were oblivious to the fact that you were only in a pair of panties and a bra. His mouth was hanging open, eyes comically wide as he tried to process what he was seeing. “Fugo? Are you alright? You usually don’t come in my room?” For you, it wasn’t really a big deal. I mean you’ve all been to the beach together before, you weren’t really showing that much more skin at the moment. “Earth to Fugo? Did you need to tell me something?” Your hand waving in his face was the only thing that snapped him out of it, mostly because of your new proximity. “I-i’m so sorry! I don’t even know why I came in here! I’ll just let myself out I…” he was still muttering as he left, hands coming up to hold his face once he was out of your sight.

Narancia Ghirga

You’re used to it by now, he quite literally never knocks and always lets himself in. “Hey Y/N! I need to ask you…” you jumped, moving to cover yourself before realizing it was just Narancia. You mostly zoned out when he started asking you questions, some how you’re half assed answers seemed satisfactory for him. Most of the time, Narancia sat in your room talking your ear off as you got ready for the day. He was, in every sense, not phased seeing you half naked. Of course he’d never seen you in anything less than a bra and underwear, but in your eyes it was the same as being seen in a bikini. Narancia was just…Narancia. “Where do you even come up with these questions?” You slipped a shirt over your head, laughing as he tilted his head. “I dunno.” Was all he could give you, eyes training on your CD collection as you rummaged through your closet for a pair of bottoms. Really, it didn’t even phase you anymore.

Mista Guido

The last thing he expected was to get a face full of your ass when he walked into your room. “Merda, y/n! You could kill a man with a sight like that!” Always a smart ass… and a flirt. You rolled your eyes, straighten from where you had been bent over rummaging for pajamas. “You scared the fuck out of me, Mista.” He made his way into your room, throwing himself on your bed. “Ah well, you scared me too with an ass like that. The very thought of you sitting—“ you picked up your pillow and began hitting him with it, laughing as he attempted to block. “You are such a horny bastard.” You shook your head, finally flopping yourself beside him when he stopped putting up a fight. “I can’t help it! Having a roommate as good looking as you… who loves to walk round half nude…” the pillow was hitting him once again, this time both of you couldn’t contain your laughter.

Leone Abbacchio

He was only walking into your room because Bucciarati sent him to get you… what he failed to do though was knock. “We’re going to dinner, hurry your ass up so we can…go…” he froze, eyes matching the size of yours as you instinctively covered yourself with your towel. “Why wouldn’t you knock?!” You felt your face getting warm, knowing full and well that Abbacchio had quite literally just seen all of you. “I—“ he swallowed, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, even that quick glance of your body was engraved into his mind. “I’m sorry…I…” he was stumbling backwards out of your room, praying his cheeks weren’t turning as red as they felt. “J-just hurry up so we can go get dinner…” his voice was strained, quite unusual for him, which was making the situation all the more awkward. “Okay…” you croaked, mentally reminding yourself to lock your door from now on.

[anamoon63]

From this moment on I go into busy mode again, but I didn't want to leave without wishing all my mutuals and all simblrs in general a very Happy New Year 2024 and dedicate some words I have been meaning to say to you but hadn't found the time or the appropriate way to do it.

I'll start by saying to all of you who had a hard time in 2023, those who went through depression, physical and/or mental health problems, family problems, marital problems, work problems, problems with your children, with your partners, with your parents or grandparents. To all those who in some way suffered or were hurt in the year that is ending -and assuming that all of us here, or most of us, are storytellers-, my advice is: don't stop writing, ever. Keep doing it through it all, through the good times as well as the bad; write even if the tears well up in your eyes and fall on the keyboard. Just write!

Writing heals, cures and consoles, because it is what we do and because there is no better way to get out all that we carry inside, be it sad or happy. I went through the long night of depression myself and I can say with all certainty that writing was what pulled me through, and that although it may not seem so, there is light at the end of the tunnel, and it's never as dark as when it's about to dawn. I suffered from depression since 2006 and for many years; around that time I started a novel that took me 14 years to write. Through all that time, I slowly healed, and by the time I finished, I was free of all the demons that drove me to write that particular story in the first place.

Okay, enough of me, I want to tell my mutuals, that I love what you write/create, and I really enjoy your work, be it stories or gameplay; and not only those who write, but also those who make custom content, mods, those who create any kind of art, those who take beautiful pictures, those who share memes or funny things about their pets. All of you, know that I read you every day and I take you with me everywhere I go, because you are so talented, creative, funny and interesting.

I don't always have the courage to comment on your posts, be it about sims or personal, for different reasons, mainly because of language barriers, because as you know, English is not my native language, and sometimes I don't have my translator at hand to confirm that what I am writing is correct, or if there is a spelling or grammar mistake or a typo in there; also because of my social awkwardness, as I am a rather shy and introverted person; and the fact that I'm an old simmer, cause believe me, compared to many of you I am old, and this makes me afraid of saying something out of place, out of time, or of being politically incorrect. This may sound silly, but I was born and raised in a time where people thought and acted very differently, even in my early years of sims on the internet, everything was way different than it is now. Well, those are the reasons why I don't always comment, but the fact is that I read you, I like what you do, what you write, I'm in love with your characters -who are already part of my sim-universe-; your stories capture my imagination, intrigue me, interest me, amuse me and, above all, teach me, because I've learned a lot from you, talented creatures, in the time I've been reading your work.

Anyway, I got off my chest what I've been wanting to tell you for days now. I also want to thank you for all your likes, comments, questions, messages, and in general for all the love I received from you this year, it's amazing. I never expected so much in just one year, really. So, thank you, both to those who have been following me for a long time, and have stayed with me and my chaotic stories, and to the new followers, Sims 3 and Sims 4, I thank you all.

Well, this was already very long, sorry for the rambling, lol, I wish each and every one of you a very Happy New Year, may all your dreams and plans become a beautiful reality in the year that begins, because, believe me, some dreams do come true, I had the joy of confirming it right at the end of this year.

That's all, a big hug and a very, very happy 2024 everyone! 🤗❤️🎇

[obstinatecondolement]

Having kind of a post-NaNoWriMo dip in mood re: the fic groove I have been in tbh. (mental illness and insecurity bullshit, mensturation mention cw)

I do still feel Very Strongly about the ideas I have and I do want to write them/continue working on them in the case of the two WIPs I started this week, but without the external structure of the event it's harder to thinking about sustaining that, especially given that I was making so many glaring mistakes that I feel looked very amateurish (I know it's an amateur hobby, but whatever, I expect very ridiculously high standards of myself in almost everything that I would never hold anyone else to and it's always crushing when I inevitably fail to meet them, lol).

The things I was getting wrong were mostly basic spelling errors, using the wrong word in common phrases that turned things into the uncanny valley of that phrase that didn't not make sense but weren't how anyone would say that particular thing naturally, accidentally flipping word order (or not rephrasing the rest of a sentence properly after copying and pasting things around, etc.), and just, like ... random gibberish typos that only became obvious to me after I posted, despite trying really hard to self edit myself carefully.

It's very difficult for me to have the focus to be able to do that sort of detail oriented task when things are in fast-brain mode. And, like, attention to detail is something I am typically very good at, so it's deeply embarrassing to me, especially in a new fandom where I'm creating a first impression.

And like, more generally I also feel like the shine has kind of gone off me and, I know that this is just my literal mental illness distorting my perception of Everything, but it feels like the fandom is already kind of over me because I'm too much. This is all very much a me problem and I don't think it's true or that anyone has treated me badly or done anything that would reasonably create this impression to a person who was not Going Through It (hence the read-more and, like, also: if you are a recent Ghosts follower you have done nothing wrong and have been nothing but nice to me and I don't want you to reassure me*, I'm just insane and I need to get a grip/have serious mental health issues and need to be better at distress tolerance and not being so insecure in how I'm perceived and prone to assuming that people are sick of me.

But, anyway, I think that part of this is just like... also pretty normal? Hypomanic episodes can last up to months, but usually they do fizzle out much sooner than that for most people most of the time, so I think that I just have kind of run out of steam and now I'm going low again having been pretty high for a sustained two-ish weeks and the very obvious external end of the line signal given by NaNo ending has kind of naturally triggered that downturn.

And I am like, speaking pretty approximately here? I think I probably have mixed episodes more than pure hypomanic episodes, for the most part? But, yeah, I don't know. I think the rollercoaster is coming out of a corkscrew and it's just going down now. Which, you know, does suck but it also won't last forever, so that is some comfort. I also still think I might be premenstrual, which does fuck with my head a lot, so, y'know. TL;DR, I'll be fine, but I am having a hard time. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

*Like, genuinely, please don't. This is a Me problem and I think it would be bad both for me and for my relationships with others if I were to make the people around me feel that they had to constantly protect my feelings by showering me with attention and reassurance, or whatever. And also, like, I'd feel Very Bad if I thought other people felt guilted into doing that because I made a vent post about my irrational feelings that I know full well on an intellectual level are not reflecting an objective reality, because other people do not deserve to feel personally responsible for the bullshit my brain pulls on me.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Another bunch of replies! Some are related to our latest Rollo artwork, some are related to the headcanon post about the guys being dads, but as always, some are miscellaneous (fun fact: the amount of times I wrote this word without making at least one typo is 0).

Anonymous asked:

Can't believe rollo let a bunch of flowers fuck him

I know right? I guess it’s better than those nasty magic users…

But also damn, Rollo and his self-punishment mechanisms.

hipsterteller asked:

It's 2am here and this is what I saw...beautiful

Thank you so much <3 I feel like 2am is the perfect time for this type of artwork lol

I’m very happy you like how it looks.

Anonymous asked:

Where does the thing about Trey and teeth come from? I've seen multiple people mention it and I don't get it, I feel like I must have missed something

Oh he just really cares about dental hygiene; it was mentioned in canon a couple of times. I don’t remember where it was mentioned for the first time, but he did ask Deuce and Riddle if they packed toothbrushes 12 times when they were packing for the symposium…

It was also definitely mentioned in some of the vignettes and voice lines.

Anonymous asked:

I have an headcanon of Kalim also developing an overprotective side as a father, keeping his child away from situations that he deems to risky for an Asim. Dunno if he would be like that right out of the gate, or if this behaviour would be triggered by someone making an attempt on his child's life, but the idea of Kalim turning into a bit of an hypocrite and not allowing his child to have the same (relatively) carefree childhood that he had makes sense to me. He just can't bear the idea of them going through the same experience. It would also make him want to spoil them even more as a way to make it up to them. "Of course dear, you can have everything you want! Uh? Go to school with the other kids? But we already have the best possible teachers here at home, just for you! Are lessons a bit too heavy? How about we double, no, triple your recess time, hm? You can't get that kind of deal in regular old schools, now can you?". It would take a lot of efforts for him to be comfortable enough to let them be independent.

I'm so sorry, I wanted to ask something about Glorious Masquerade, but I go distracted and started a Kalim rant. I'll leave that question for another time, since this ask is already long enough.

You know, Anon, it could also be a thing, I kind of like this take. All of the assassination attempts are the things that actually influence the way Kalim interacts with the world and sees it, so the moment he realises that his kid could be in danger it could make him very paranoid. So yeah, the kid can have anything they want as long as they don’t go anywhere, don’t talk to anyone other than a trusted circle of people and don’t eat anything but the food that was cooked inside the Palace. Watch out, Kalim, or your kid is going to sneak out and meet a street rat lol

Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Anon, and I’m looking forward to the Glorious Masquerade ask! :)

Anonymous asked:

So have you ever thought on what the TWST cast be if they dated any women? Not like having them official but being interesting if they do. I know they haven't experience dating women except Ace (still an asshole he is) given that Ghost Marriage, but I am curious about it. Like how Lilia had feelings for a certain woman before.

To be completely honest, Anon, not really. We’re just not too into het (with rare exceptions), so my head about this particular topic is kind of empty. We’re more interested in the boys having crushes on each other, I guess lol When I wrote my post, I imagined them being either single dads or being with another character.

That being said, we did read a dj about the Tweels clowning Azul for being dumped by yet another woman, and it was funny…

Lilia and a certain woman have certain potential, but it’s a bit early to talk about them for me…wink

Anonymous asked:

Ah well, it does feel like a weight lifted off my shoulders since I left so it's not too bad

I'm glad I didn't share any of my socials where I post art because I am very vocal about being proship on them

I'm also glad I did some more snooping research into most of the members' accounts and carrds since I would have never known otherwise that they're so childish

Good to know, Anon! All’s well that ends well, I guess :D

Yeah it sucks that you have to check every single person just to be safe, but on the other hand, it’s great that this type of people is usually quite vocal about their views.

[festivalsofmargot]

Hi, I absolutely adore your writing and I think you're really good at it. I can always picture things clearly while reading your fics, and your dialogue and descriptions never come off as clunky, they're just very natural and flow-well together. So, I was wondering if I could ask for a few writing tips? I want to contribute to the fandom a bit more, but I'm worried my writing is terrible. "is this too much dialogue? Is this slice-of-life conversation too boring? Why am I switching between past and current tense multiple times in the same sentence? Should I write in first, second, or third person", etc. Do you also think things like that when you write, and if so, how do you overcome them? I don't have anyone to share my writing with, so it's difficult to get another perspective on if something is worth posting or if I should re-write it altogether. I'd appreciate any tips you might have, but please don't feel pressured to answer or anything :)

😭😭😭 namiusedbubble... absolutely I'm down to geek out about writing with you! (And thank you so much for taking the time to tell me you enjoy my writing. ❤)

Now buckle up, because when I geek out, I geek out bruh. I've definitely put down too much, but I'm glad I'll have a post to remind myself why I love writing at least. 🥰

If you don't have the time or desire to read all this, I don't blame you lol. Main thing I want to say is I've creeped on your page and read your 'When they have a crush on you' post and by all means... please keep contributing to the fandom!!!

"You took your time getting there; you are on the solid ground of the other shore and we did the crawl along with you. We're willing to listen to anything you have to say. Now go ahead, get wild." - Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones

Also, excuse my potty mouth 😗

Believe me, I have the exact same worries as you. The EXACT same. It happens with each one of my fics, it really does. Every time I'm nearly finished and proofread it for the hundreth time, I'm always hit with "This is boring as shit, who the fuck's gonna want to sit through this? I'm such a moron, this sentence makes no goddamn sense. The fuck was I even trying to say here? How did I miss that?? My writing is getting worse every day? Epic." and so on and so forth with me swearing at and berating myself lmfao.

I'll tell you why we keep switching between past and present tense multiple times in one sentence. Because our brains are lil assholes that's why. But getting the idea down is the main battle. Let every draft before your final one be awful, don't be afraid to get more of your ideas down. Our sentences can be pretty horrendous getting them written out for the first time. I think I proofread my stuff at least ten times. And just when I think I'm good, I sleep on it and look it over one more time the next day. And I still have typos and present tense sentences in my past tense story.

Some people are prodigies and can get these beautiful stories out like it's nothin'. I've accepted I'm not one of 'em. I don't have talent, but I do have tenacity!

When it comes to first, second, or third person, go for the one that flows best for you rather than the one you think you should do. I'm usually able to tell which one is best when I get a good writing momentum going. Say I was aiming for first person, but when the ideas are pouring out I find myself writing in third person instead, I'll drop first person and go third person. Anything that'll let me get my stuff down. Even if you do write in two different persons without thinking, you can always go back and fix it. There's no rush, you have all the time in the world. 🙂

I like second and third person the best because I can describe what all the characters are feeling rather than just one person's point of view. First person will have a lot more mystery. I've been digging second person because I feel like it really connects the reader to the fic. Plus I like hyping you guys up lol. 😊

When it comes to worrying about the content of your writing, believe me when I say, it will itch someone's scratch. There's an audience for everything. Some people want the slowest of slow burns, some people want hot and heavy and dirty, some people want aimless slice of life bits, and some people want quick, nice, and fluffy. Our writing won't be for everyone, and that's perfectly fine. I'll say it again, THAT IS FINE. We're still worthy!

Sure, sometimes your content will get in front of the wrong people. And they might even feel the need to say something shitty to you. Fuck 'em. Whenever I get attacked, I watch those reacting to hate comments videos on youtube. You're never alone when it comes to putting up with shitheads online.

I love writing because I have a scenario stuck in my head and I need to get it down. I'm not satisfied with it only living in my head. Once I'm done, putting it out there for anyone else to stop by for 5 minutes and check out is just a bonus. If people don't like my style or structure, oh well. I like it, and let's face it. I'm the only person that my writing and little fandom posts will be with years and years down the line. If you've made something you personally want to keep coming back to, you've won.

-

Here's where I get technical if you're still interested haha. When it comes to how I personally like to write, this is what I think about. You do not have to vibe with any of this! This is just a lil peak into my mind teehee:

Actions and mannerisms are everything, no matter how small, maybe the smaller the better.

I realized I really like reading about the little actions people do when I first read The Wolfman by Nicholas Pekearo (RIP). If there's a writing style I want to capture, it's this guy's. Combining cutesy, romantic content with his gruff prose is my biggest writing goal in life. I have no idea why this sentence is stuck in the back of my head whenever I write, but it has been for years now. "I palmed the quarter, stuffed it into the pocket of the shorts I wore to bed, and moved the ashtray with my foot." Like why... why tf is that sentence stuck in my head???? I just really liked the way he wrote it. He kept it simple, I could picture it clearly, and I felt like I could see a bit of the character's personality in it. Just from how he mentioned he moved the ashtray on the floor with his foot, I felt like it told me a bit about him and how he moved through the world.

Keep dialogue short and sweet. Did it feel natural when I said it out loud?

I'm not one for huge monologues or super eloquent Pride and Prejudice love confessions. The less that's said, the sexier. Probably my all time favorite, most haunting dialogue line comes from Dragon Age: Origins, when our Warden is talking to Zevran before the final battle: "Whatever happens... I love you." "Cruel to the end." 😦 aight, DA writers. I see you, and I'll be seeing you in my dreams for the rest of my life gah dayum.

Give the reader more credit

If you don't know how to write something, don't worry! People can put things together on their own. Just from reading "they kissed", we can easily picture a bunch of different ways it's going down: what their hands are doing, how their mouths are moving, the sounds that they would be making... we're smart, imaginative cookies. Don't fret if we don't picture it exactly how you do 😉

K.I.S.S. - Keep It Simple Stupid

The writing advice everyone has heard a million times. No need to find the prettiest words or metaphors. The basics can get the job done. (Especially with romance, in the end I just wanna read about people kissin' and touchin' and stuff.)

Don't be afraid to start over

Let's say you wrote the most beautiful sentence of your life, but it makes no sense with your story. Get rid of that shit. I know it's scary and you want to find a way to have it fit because you're super proud of it. Nope. Put it aside and save it for another story. Even if you've spent hours, days, months, years on something, you're allowed to get rid of it and start over like it never happened. It's all a part of the process.

Just write, pussy

I say this to myself all the time. Writing is one of those things that I can't get better at unless I do it. You don't have to post a thing. Just write. I cringe so hard looking back at my first fanfics from my Haikyu!! fandom days. But dammit! I had a blast writing those in high school lmfao. And that's really what matters, that you enjoy yourself.

[velvetwastaken]

Hi i'm here to bother you again with asks!! (lol) 1, 3, 6, and 11 if you'd like

Never a bother, i love the asks 😁

Answers below the cut!

1. What led you to start writing fan fiction?

I think it’s a combination of feeling a certain amount of discontent in my own life, and also a (real or perceived) lack of canon content/interactions for my favourite characters in any given media. Writing lets me create a world and a story where I am in control (usually), and getting to see more of characters I care about and flesh them out more fully is really fun. And if I can give them a ‘happily ever after’ too, that’s even better.

3. What experiences/influences have shaped your writing the most?

I think all my experiences influence my writing/storytelling to some degree. We are all a sum of our lived experiences. But I think the light and easy humour in books like those by Terry Pratchett influenced my style somewhat and unashamedly the Hunger Games made me start writing in the present tense. I like the immediacy, the urgency even, that it can add to a story.

6. What is your writing process like? Describe it.

Typically I wing my stories. An idea/thought/scene strikes and then I write around it until there’s something cohesive there. Not a lot of process, and a lot of stress, lol.

I do have a couple wips that I have either fully or partially outlined, though. It’s kinda nice, because I know where the story is meant to go without feeling restricted by it. It let’s me just sit down and write. But I am discovering that translating a few bullet points into actual prose can be just as hard as making it all up as I go. The getting from point A to point B isn’t any easier for me with an outline, unfortunately.

Whatever the method, once a first draft is done, I’ll start editing. I’ll read it aloud, read it very slowly, comb it for errors and inconsistencies. Then I’ll toss it into grammerly and see if the stupid ai catches anything I missed. I’ll comb it over once or twice more, and then I’ll post it. I always miss a bunch of small typos and things though, so I try to reread it again a week or so later to catch more mistakes. But unlike pokemon, I never catch them all :/

11. What attracted you to the fandom(s)/media you write in?

I only write for Genshin right now, and I started playing Genshin because the pandemic was making me crazy and I missed playing video games after my PS3 died. I could play it on mobile which is all I had, so it was perfect.

The huge cast of characters that the game barely scratches the surface on lend themselves well to writing fics. And my beloved Ganqing grabbed me by the throat and there’s no sign they’re ever gonna let go, lol.

[evitascarlett14]

Stress, Inspiration, and Songs...

I don’t know how many of my readers have come across me here, although in all honesty, I know I don’t have as many readers as I once did...and I get it...but I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me a little sad at times lol. It’s my own fault in some ways, I update too slowly for a lot of people but I can’t seem to help that. I am a person who when stressed, seems to shut down in most respects until that stress is resolved and dealt with...which is why the last two chapters of Room to Breathe are still rattling around in my head instead of on my word document...and believe me, it bothers me just as much or more than it does anyone else...but as always, I promise to get it done, and I will as some of that stress seems to be resolving this week, so fingers crossed that these chapters will be finished soon...because then I’m ready to head back to Reflections to do some wedding planning with Johanna and Jim...cake tasting and wedding dress shopping have been in mind...

When I find myself in these times where words don’t come easily, I turn to editing...I’ve been editing Reflections in between chapters for the last few months, cleaning up typos, missing words, reworking awkward sentences or cleaning up little details so they mesh better with later chapters (and stories) where they’ve been fleshed out better as I got to know my characters. I admit it’s fun to go back and comb over the early chapters of Reflections (I’m up to chapter 23 in my editing process) and I thought maybe it would be fun to mention a few songs that inspire certain chapters, not just of Reflections, but other stories as well...so I’m going to start doing that here...and maybe, just maybe, eventually, some little Johanna Verse ficlets will end up here too...but for now, music...

Since Reflections is on my mind (and always close to my heart), let’s take a few songs from there. I love music, I use it in all my stories, and despite growing up in the 90s, I’ve always loved music from all decades...especially the 60s and 70s, and seeing as how Reflections is set in 70s, I have a lot of fun researching songs of that decade that fit into specific moments of Jim and Johanna’s life in the 70s.

The title of Reflections comes from a Diana Ross and the Supremes song called Reflections....the song itself is basically a breakup song but the opening line of the song is what I envisioned this story as: “Through the mirror of my mind, time after time, I see Reflections of you and me...” The song is from 1966, and while not my favorite of the group, it does describe Reflections perfectly with that opening line.

I guess I can’t talk about the music of this story without bringing up Jim and Johanna’s song...the Eagles, Best of My Love. Yes, they fell in love to a breakup song...but it’s always felt right for them, because no matter what those two go through, even when they’re hurting each other, they’re still giving each other the best of their love; and as Jo and Jim have proven through various eras of this verse, the best of their love is always enough to pull them through whatever comes their way. 

One of my favorite songs of inspiration for this story isn’t from the 70s...and as I’m editing these chapters, it’s the one on my mind most today and I still love it even if it isn’t an exact fit for the plot. The song is Somewhere With You by Kenny Chesney, and it’s what I named the road trip chapters after. That summer is a time of turmoil for Johanna and Jim takes her on that road trip in effort to give her the freedom and peace she craves...and it ends up being a bit of a turning point in their relationship as they push boundaries and connect even more deeply. There’s something about the melody of that song...a touch of darkness in the back notes, a touch of adrenaline in the faster segments of the song, it just fits with that mood Johanna was feeling at that time. 

Lyrics from that song that speak to me during these chapters: 

“ Laughing loud on a carnival ride,, Driving around on a Saturday night You made fun of me for singing my song Got a hotel room just to turn you on,

You said pick me up at 3 a.m. You're fighting with your mom again And I'd go, I'd go, I'd go Somewhere with you,”

And these ones:

“Like we did on the beach last summer When the rain came down and we took cover down in your car, out by the pier You laid me down, whispered in my ear I hate my life, hold on to me Ah, if you ever decide to leave Then I'll go, I'll go, I'll go

I can go out every night of the week Can go home with anybody I meet But it's just a temporary high, 'cause when I close my eyes I'm somewhere with you, somewhere with you”

Somewhere with You, despite being out of place decade wise (which is why I didn’t quote lyrics in the title of the chapter) is Johanna and Jim’s theme song for that summer. It’s them, trying to break away from the things hold them down and yet still fighting against what they know...that they’re in love with each other and afraid to do anything about it.

So there’s a few behind the scenes tidbits for the day...I’ll have more soon, and don’t worry, I am trying to get some chapters written!

-Lucy

[crystalkleure]

It took me a long time to realize exactly how much amnesia I actually had, because my memories aren't always 100% gone. They're more like 90%-95% gone, usually.

What will happen is I will have a vague memory that some type of interaction involving [person] and/or [subject] occurred, but I won't remember much, if any, of the actual content of the interaction/conversation. So I am constantly going back and rereading, and rereading again, my own posts and DMs to other people, to refresh my memory on what exactly happened earlier whenever I find myself oddly "spacey" [dissociated, and probably freshly switched]. I spend a fucking huge amount of time every day rereading my own shit to jog my memory, the dumb paranoia about "Oh god what if there's some typo or grammatical error somewhere I didn't notice before" isn't the only reason for the repeated re-checking.

What I now know is usually happening is that another alter of mine is giving me a vague nudge in a specific direction when they can tell I'm confused about [insert thing], like "Check over here for The Answer To The Question I Can Hear You Thinking." It's just, like...an urge to go look in an oddly-specific place without necessarily realizing WHY I feel like That Place Specifically Contains The Explanation I'm Currently Wanting. Like, I will NOT know why I know my answer is there, I feel like I have no reason to expect it to be there, yet I'll just Feel The Certainty That It Is. Won't even know what exactly The Answer will LOOK like, there's just the vague certainty that I'll Know It When I See It [which is always correct]. That is how we've always operated, before even knowing about DID and thus eachother. Now, if I notice The Urge To Look Somewhere Specific For No Known Reason While I've Been "Thinking Loudly" About Being Confused About Something, and I think Actual Clear Words towards The Urge, then The Urge will think Actual Clear Words right back at me because they are an alter lol. Usually something like "Check your Discord DMs dumbass, someone literally told us about this two days ago. It was so-and-so." And lo and behold, that will be correct.

So the end result is it LOOKS – even to me before knowing what DID was – like I actually just Remember The Thing [even if oddly not very well considering how recent it probably was], but what's actually happening in my head is a fucking game of telephone. I don't actually have the memory, somebody else who does is relaying it to me. And I'm just sitting there astonished that what they're telling me is right.

[sheinthatfandom]

Have you seen the gif of Pacs ball? You always seem to know how to put things into context and I just don’t know what to think. I see people joking about it but I feel weird about it.

Well first I have never known how to put anything into context I am a rambling mess of a human whose brain speaks faster then her little fingers can type and her eyes are so bad she can’t even see the typos as her phone is warning her hey we gonna change sweet to sweat okay?? okay!

That said yes, unfortunately I have seen it and will abso-fucking-lutely not be sharing that are you kidding me? No! Unless Pac himself says that he is fine with it and leans into it and says to share it I consider that a humiliating degrading act to share someone’s wardrobe malfunction. I was around for Janet’s and that whole fallout and yes women have always gotten the worst of it. But men have not been free from it. They’ve had their nudes leaked and have spoken about how the locker room reacted afterwards because sometimes your co-workers can be the biggest bullies.

I think if I was younger and as horny as I was I’d probably find it funny cause like bodies are awesome and beautiful and everyone should be naked! (My dumbass 20yr old thought process) but now in my advanced age lol with all my experiences that have happened to me those around me and learning from those who are celebrities……..he didn’t consent to that being shared it was an accident and the faster we forget about it and let the memory die the better. Unless he comes out (without weird fan prompting) and says it’s all good and pushes it himself.

Long story short you probably feel weird cause you know it’s not right.

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not so sure. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

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

Oh, you loved this man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

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

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

“I thought he was cool before.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

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

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

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

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

Of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it’s true. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I kinda do—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

epi-epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[roscgcld]

HEADCANONS + GOJO SATORU || sweet but ‘scary’ s/o

request: How would Satour react if crush/future s/o was sweet and caring person, but could turn into a deadly assassin badass when they need too?

note: i feel like you’re a returning requester because the of the typo for gojo’s name lol. I see you reappearing in my inbox so much. i’m chilled with it, it makes me happy that you enjoy my writing enough to come back c: i did change the request a little cause i couldn’t finish it after writing half of the headcanon lol - so i hope you don’t mind c:

i based this around this post!

pronouns: them/they

everyone knows you as the ‘sweet and warm sensei’ that everyone can turn to when things start to get too much

a parental figure that will listen to their issues without judgement, or feeling the need to give them advice; just someone who they can just rant to without needing to hear anything back in reply 

on days where they are just overwhelmed with work, you’d come into the study room with bags of snacks, asking if they want to go to the rec room in their dorm for a well deserved break

you’re the same for your co-workers/fellow graduated classmates - when you were a student in the college, you are considered as the sweet and caring senpai who bakes snacks for everyone

so you cannot believe their shock when you had gotten together with gojo - to which everyone threatened gojo at least twice to take care of you; unless he wants to feel their wrath 

and i headcanon that even though gojo always claims that he is the ‘strongest sorcerer alive’ - an angry shoko never fails to send shivers of fear up his spine

but in general, after awhile they realised that somehow, you managed to tame the ‘wild and rambunctious’ gojo satoru into becoming your doting and ever loving boyfriend. who is still a huge pain in the ass, but at least he is loyal lol

you’d help to do the group laundry on your off days because you hate the idea that everyone is running out of fresh clothes, whilst teaching nanami and haibara how to use the washer and dryer (cause nanami gotta learn how to be the perfect man from someone)

on days when you’re on dinner duty, no one misses them because you cook the best and most warmest meals for them all - makes them miss home a little less

although you always have this super sweet and caring front, there was a side to you that gojo had never told anyone of; it’s nothing bad. but when he first saw it, he was definitely taken back

he witnessed it when you are sent on a mission together - there were a group of troublemaker kids who had entered an abandoned hospital that had been inhabited by a Special Grade that seemed to be trapping them inside

so you two were sent to go and retrieving the kids if they are alive, but your job is to exorcise the curse no matter the outcome 

gojo knew that you hated that answer, so he allows you to drag him about the many hallways of the school, trying to find the young kids before the curse gets to them

when you found them, your motherly side came out as you fussed over the sniffling and crying kids; using the small first aid kit you had on your person of all time to help them clean and bandage any scratches and wounds they had on their body

gojo was annoyed that you seemed so focused on the kids, but he still stood guard like you had asked him too; arms crossed and an annoyed pout resting on his face

he was about to whine to you again, asking when you’re done when he freeze at the sudden strong source of Cursed Energy that was radiating from somewhere

he had just turned to warn you when a sudden blur passed him, causing him to blink his eyes in shock as he glances over at where you were moments ago; only to be faced with equally shocked kids

“wha-” he mutters before he turned to poke his head out the classroom you had taken refuse in, just in time to see you with your weapon drawn and already stabbing the Curse without hesitation

he was stunned at the sight of his lover, his sweet and kind bunny, going absolutely ham on the Curse; exorcising it within a second

gojo just stared at you in shock, which was rare as it is; his mouth parted in awe as he watches as you dust yourself off and made your way back towards him; your kind smile painted on your features once more

“well - shall we leave then?”

gojo had gone back to the college with you after you had dropped the kids off with the cops; unsure of how to bring up at how different you were when you are serious and have your head in the game

because of this, he had never really told anyone about this side of you; since he really saw no reason to reveal it. he just learns to accept it, and that it is just another part of you that he loves as much as he loves you

fast forward a few years, now you and gojo have been together ever since the third year of high school; having raised megumi together as a couple, and had officially became one of the teachers of the school

many of the students had yet to see this ‘side’ side of yours. whilst people like nanami and ijichi had seen it first hand; and had both unanimously decided to never piss you off

however, your beloved students just saw you as the sweet sensei who made them muffins and cakes on their birthdays, who teaches them things they’d need to know to become an adult

you’re a familiar pillar that they can lean on during the darkest of times; so they never believe when Yaga-sensei or Nanami try to tell them that beneath that kindness there is something that they should watch out for

the students cannot imagine their kind and soft-spoken sensei to be this scary killing machine that is known to be one of the best sorcerers to deal with heavily infested areas

they had no reason to believe so - until Yaga-sensei had approved for them to shadow Gojo-sensei and you for your latest mission

they stood at the side with Nanami and another First Grade Sorcerer to watch as the both of you entered the abandoned office block on the outskirts of tokyo

you had noticed the students, and after giving them a warm smile and wave you and gojo made your way inside of the building as the curtain was completed; blocking the outside world from looking in

at first the students were not sure what they were actually waiting for, since they couldn’t really see any action from where they are standing - which was the entire reason for their trip 

they questioned nanami as to why they had to stand at such a distance away, but nanami just held his hand out and told them to be patient and wait for a few more moments

suddenly there was a huge bang! before what seemed to be a figure shooting out from the exploding rubble; a manic glint in your eyes as you spun your weapon in your hand so it pointed downward as you started to fall 

the students watched in horror and shock whilst you seemed to be having the time of your life, gojo just standing behind you with a soft grin as he protected your back; yet made no real move to get in your way 

they watched in horror at the sigh of you exorcising the Curses around you without hesitation, a dark and determined look shining in your eyes. a far cry from the sweet smile you always have on your face

no one knew what to say as they continue to watch as you exorcise the masses of Curses. too shocked to really process everything happening before them. even megumi was stunned, since he had never seen this ‘dark’ side of you before

whilst gojo looks like he was having a blast, even cheering you on from the sidelines, nanami was just shaking his head with a tired sigh

“so much for ‘educational purposes’,” nanami hummed tiredly as he turned to the other first grade sorcerer, who just smiles back in response. “shall we grabbed some hot chocolate for the kids? there is a cafe that we passed whilst driving over here.”

when the other person agreed the two of them started to usher the kids away, nanami waving off gojo’s whine of how he was going to be missing the best parts

“you fawn over your lover by yourself, gojo - i am going to make sure the kids don’t go into further shock then they already are.”

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform.

[killianglyndon]

Reunion (tbb ep.16 fix-it fic)

Pairing: Crosshair x Medic! Female Reader

Warning: tbb ep.16 spoilers, mentioned of killing people, inhibitor chip?, some kissing, grammar mistakes, typo (cause i didn’t proof read lol. im too tired to do that.)

A/N: anyway, i was so mad and sad about tbb finale, so i decided to write a fix-it fic. That doesn’t mean I hate the episode, this is just my version of story. im not really good at writing so...haha. that’s why im a gifmaker, also my main language is not English, so there would have some typos and grammar mistakes.

Word count: 1.6k

read on ao3

You and The Bad Batch were on the way to save Hunter. You knew this would be a trap, but you couldn’t help but think of a certain sniper, your lover.

You and the batch didn’t understand what had happened to him at first, his brother, your love. The way he called you and the batch traitor, the way he raised his gun to you, and the way he talked. This wasn’t him, this was not the crosshair you know. 

Then, it turned out that the kaminoans had implanted inhibitor chips in every clone to make clones blindly follow orders, even killing the jedi.

“Good soldiers follow orders” This line kept echoing in your head after you heard Crosshair say it. This, this was not the crosshair you know.

***

“You and omega wait here” Echo told you and omega.

“No, we should stick together!” Omega protested. 

You put a hand on Omega’s shoulder, trying to calm her.

“No, echo’s right” Wrecker agreed with him.

“Stay out of sight, if things go south we’ll send you a signal. Go back to the ship and contact Rex.” Echo added, looking at you and omega.

You gave him a nod and pulled Omega back to your side before watching them ascend to the training room.

You know how much Hunter meant to Omega, the way they interacted, and the way they cared for each other. You understood why the young girl looked up to him.

“Omega, I’m sure they’ll get Hunter back.” You reassured her.

“I know, and Crosshair.” She looked at you with her bright eyes.

You were a little shocked when she mentioned him. All this time, you tried so hard to suppress your feelings for him, your love for him. The batch knew that you missed him, they could tell. The way you stared into his empty bed, and the nights that you cried until you were too tired and the tears were dried.

“Yeah, and Crosshair…” You smiled sadly at the young girl.

***

When you and Omega joined the batch in the training room, you, Omega, and AZI stayed in one of the gun towers. That was when you saw him, your Crosshair. Hunter and he were tackling each other while Tech, Echo, and Wrecker were shooting the droids.

“I believe you may have activated a few too many droids.” AZI said to Omega and you.

“ We can see that, AZI.” Omega raised her bow, aiming for the nearest droid to Hunter and Crosshair. Meanwhile, you used your blaster to shoot some of the droids near the others.

***

After clearing out all the droids, you, Omega, and AZI joined the others on the ground. You walked closer to Crosshair and Hunter. 

You could see that Crosshair was shocked to see you, the coldness in his eyes, mixing up with a tiny bit of shock.

The big scar on the right side of his head was horrifying, did the empire did this to him? Your heart almost broke into million pieces, seeing the love of your life like this.

“Crosshair…” Your voice almost sounded like a whisper. 

For a moment, you see the real Crosshair, your Crosshair. But soon replaced by the coldness and aloofness.

“Crosshair, forget the empire. This isn’t you, it’s the inhibitor chip.” Hunter tried to talk some senses into him.

“Wrong.” Crosshair stared back at Hunter. “I had my chip removed a long time ago.” He added.

All of you looked shocked, Tech and Wrecker looked at each other, speechless. Hunter almost looked hurt. 

“Since when?” Hunter asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes”

No. No. This is not Crosshair. The Crosshair you know would never do this.

“Cross, the empire lied about many things, what if they lied to you?” You asked, trying to hold back your tears.

“This is who I am.” 

Crosshair tried to raise his rifle, but Hunter was faster. He stunned him before Crosshair’s attempt.

***

“Hunter, three Venators are descending on the city. We need to leave, now.” Tech stated.

“Wrecker, grab Crosshair. He’s coming with us.” Hunter grabbed Crosshair’s rifle and backpack, while you went to picked up Crosshair’s helmet.

You saw Omega gave Hunter a nod before walking away. Hunter caught you staring at him, so you gave a sad smile to him in return.

“He’s coming home with us.” Hunter said.

***

You and The Batch finally made it to Nala Se’s lab, Tech and Echo were currently trying to figure out a plan. After Crosshair and Hunter’s intense conversation, you saw him walking to the window and taking a seat to rest.

“AZI, come with me, I need your help on something.” You asked.

AZI followed you to Crosshair, you took a seat beside him.

“Crosshair…”

“What do you want?” He asked coldly.

“AZI is a medical droid, he can scan you to check if you still have the chip.”

“Indeed, I helped CT-5555 removed his and CT-5385’s chip according to my memory database.” AZI said.

“Fine.” Crosshair agreed reluctantly.

“CT-9904, this scan only takes a few seconds” AZI said before scanning Crosshair.

To be honest, you knew he still had the chip, you hoped he still had the chip. Cause there was no way, no way the Crosshair you knew would be like this.

“The scan is completed.” AZI said.

“So..?” You asked.

“CT-9904 still has his chip, the chip’s effect was weakened due to the injury from ion engine.” AZI answered.

You felt almost relieved? 

The Batch heard it and rushed to you, “He still has...his chip?” Hunter asked, sounded a little guilty.

Echo, Tech, Omega, and Wrecker looked at each other, surprised by this unexpected news as well.

“That would be correct.”AZI replied.

“Could you remove it, AZI?” Omega asked, she wanted his brother back as much as any of you did.

“Yes. I’m capable of removing CT-9904’s inhibitor chip.”

“Do it.” Hunter said.

You stayed next to Crosshair while AZI removed his chip. The surgery was faster than you think, you hold Crosshair’s hand during the whole surgery, and you still holding it now.

“CT-9904’s chip has been removed. He should be awake in any minutes.” AZI stated.

You felt his hand pressing yours, “Crosshair?”

“I...I…”

“Hey, you’re okay now. We removed your chip.” You reassured him.

Crosshair looked away from you, his eyes filled with guilt, confusion, anger, sadness.

“Don’t you hate me?” He asked. “All those things I had done…”

Your hand reached out to stroke his face, “No. Never. I know it’s the chip, Cross. It’s not your fault.” You smiled at him. “I love you, always and forever.” 

Crosshair put his hand on your face, wiping away the tears falling down your face. “ But I shot at you, I tried to kill you… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“Shhh, I forgive you, Cross. All of it. I’m sorry we didn’t come to save you earlier…” 

Crosshair sat up and pulled you into a hug, you melted into his touch, inhaling his scent. Your Crosshair was finally back to you, this is real. The sleepless night without him, the loneliness, the emptiness, the desperation, were all gone. Crosshair was back to you, alive.

“I love you too, cyare.” He said it back.

He pulled away a little so he could kiss you on the lips, his hand trailed to your nape, kissing you with force. You and Crosshair clung on to each other so hard, afraid you would lose each other again. That was when you heard Hunter cleared his throat, you two finally pulled away from each other.

“I know you two miss each other but this lab is about to collapse. and this is not very…” Hunter said and eyed Omega.

“Right, sorry about that.” You answered, then looked at Crosshair whose arm was still wrapped around you. “Cross.” You nudged him.

“Fine.” He gave up and retreated his arm.

“I see Crosshair still has his severe and unyielding personality.” Tech stated.

“This is called missing someone, Tech.” Crosshair said and pulled out one toothpick to throw it at him.

“Ha! He’s back!” Wrecker exclaimed and playfully punched Crosshair’s shoulder. 

Crosshair pretended to show an annoyed face, but deep down you knew he missed his brothers.

“Listen, Crosshair. I’m sorry. We should have come for you earlier.” Hunter said. “I was trying to keep the rest of the squad safe, but you are one of us. I’m sorry.”

Crosshair didn’t say anything, just stood up and walk toward Hunter. For a moment you thought he was going to punch him, but instead, Crosshair extended his hand to Hunter.

Hunter looked at Crosshair’s hand then his eyes, he reached out his hand to shake Crosshair’s. 

“We need to leave fast, the structure could not hold much longer.” AZI chimed in.

***

All of you finally made it to the platform, for once the Kamino is sunny.

Omega stared at the Tipoca City, which was all destroyed. “It’s… all gone.”

You looked at that direction, the place all clones called home was all gone. The Batch and you took a few seconds to process this, to accept the fact.

“We should leave before Empire’s scouts show up.” Tech said.

“You coming with us?” Wrecker asked, looking at Crosshair.

“Yeah.” Crosshair said and took out a toothpick, putting it into his mouth.

Hunter nodded at him before walking to the ship with the others.

You still stood next to Crosshair, “You ready?” you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a little smile then intertwined his hand with yours, leading you to the Marauder. 

You didn’t know what the future would be, but one thing was sure. Crosshair would be right beside you, always and forever.

tagging: @ahsoka1 @kavecika @starwarschicken @itsjml @ct-1994 @loth-wolffe-main @theiirs @thefeatherofhope @ahs0ka-tan0 @mallr4ts @kriffclone

[crimsonophelia]

hello basil!!! i’m the anon that sent the original request of reader being a big dumb dumb and accidentally mailing their love letters to childe in liyue—i personally just wanted to tell you that i absolutely LOVED what you wrote and that i’m so happy and grateful you did my request justice. keep up the good work!!!

if you wouldn’t mind, could i request for a hurt/comfort angst with kaeya and a gn reader? the reader is a fellow knight of favonius that regularly gets dunked on by their friends for their crush on the cavalry captain—but every time their friends insist they confess to him, they joke that “sure, i’ll tell him when i die.” and then they actually nearly die.

while on a mission with kaeya, something terrible happens that seemingly pushes the reader to the brink of death. they’re in his arms and convinced they’re about to die, so with their “dying” breath, they tell kaeya that they’re in love with him before the world goes black.

but then they wake up. 👁 (you know the drill—what happens next is completely up to you!!!)

featuring: kaeya x gn!reader

warnings: good ol' angst, some descriptions of blood, lots of typos lol

published: may 27, 2021

form: imagine

a/n: hi anon!! i'm glad you liked that imagine www and thank you for sending me ideas again! you know how much i love angst and kaeya lol~ also please forgive me for making it so long, i tried to challenge my writing abilities a bit more.

You came into this mission knowing that it would be quite a bit more difficult than the ones you typically took on. You were merely a B-rank knight, working on your certification to reach A-rank status, which definitely was not an easy feat. Yet the open commission to investigate a newly-uncovered set of ruins in Dadaupa Gorge was requiring one more member of the dual-member expedition team. When you saw who had occupied the first position for the mission, you threw caution to the wind and signed your name for position two, despite the mission being ranked A-level, at the very least. The occupied position? Filled by none other than Kaeya Alberich, captain of the Knights of Favonius cavalry, S-rank soldier and swordsman, and your former mentor. Who also happened to be the man you had hopelessly fallen for. 

The mission was assigned by the headquarters of the Knights, specifically for fully-trained Knights only, as the nature of the mission would be too dangerous for your run-of-the-mill adventurer team, and the Knights did not want to be held accountable for any potential casualties or injuries as a result of a mission gone wrong. You and Kaeya had been assigned to go investigate a newly-uncovered set of ruins in the Whispering Woods, supposedly already showing signs of being an Abyss rendezvous point. Apparently, the team of archaeologists who uncovered the ancient rocks from behind a thicket of trees had had many difficulties even making it back to the city of Mondstadt alive. You were frightened, no doubt about it, but you also knew that this was your chance. Your chance to prove yourself and your capability as a knight. Back in your training days before you took the certification exam to become a knight, you were Kaeya’s favorite pupil, a star student. Also possessing a Cryo vision, like the captain himself, certainly did not hurt your reputation in his eyes. Now, having taken on and excelled at countless dangerous B-rank missions, you felt confident in your ability to take on a mere A-rank mission, especially with the captain of the cavalry at your side. 

You had almost forgotten about the icy presence at your side, lost in your own daydreams of ambition. After following the paths leading out of Mondstadt, weapons and supplies ready at hand, you and Kaeya had finally made it to the edge of the Whispering Woods. It was starting to get dark, even though the two of you had left reasonably early in the day. The woods seemed so much more vast when their shadows grew longer, waning by the last seams of daylight. Faint howling moaned through the leaves (”Wolves? In the Whispering Woods?”, you thought to yourself), and you felt yourself tremble in the slightest. You couldn’t tell if it was due to the fear or the overwhelmingly strong Cryo aura that Kaeya emitted.

The tall man seemed unaffected by the ominous surrounding, forever carrying himself with an unwavering assuredness. He looked onwards, into the woods, eyes darting back and forth, exhibiting the remarkable surveying skills of a seasoned knight. 

“Well, [y/n]”, Kaeya turned to you, with that smug yet rather comforting voice of his. “Are you ready?”

Kaeya’s unshakeable confidence was rather spiriting, you had to admit. Nothing like traipsing into a wild forest, overrun with archons-know-what, with only your own wits and a cunning, distractingly handsome knight to guide you. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose”, you replied, trying to hide the rookie anxiety from trembling your voice. Damn it, you weren’t even a rookie. You were one of the more experienced knights in the entire Knights of Favonius. You could handle this. Plus, Kaeya has your back. In all the years you had known him, Kaeya had never dropped that rogue-ish grin off of his delicate countenance--he had the face of a prince, but marred with the implications of his mysterious eyepatch (he had never told you how he had lost that eye) and the pierce of his sly smile. It made him all so painfully attractive. 

You hate to recall the very first day you met him, the two of you only teenagers, barely adults grown into their own skin, yet he stood at the front of the training yard like the prolific swordsman he was, tan skin gleaming beneath the summer sun, hair tied behind his neck, sinewy muscles stretching as he maneuvered the sword in his hand like it was an extension of his own being. That day, you swore that you would become like Kaeya, that you would learn all you possibly could from him. That was also the day you had fallen hopelessly for the charismatic boy, though you were not aware of it just yet. 

Trudging into the forest, you made sure to clutch the weapon at your side a little tighter, wary of any potential threats that could appear in front of you at any moment. You never know how much the Abyss mages could use their magic--they are always using the spirits of Teyvat for evil. Although you had only encountered Abyss mages a small handful of times in your past B-rank missions, you already knew how perilous an interaction with any of them could be. The last time you and a partner engaged with a Pyro mage, you left the site with severe magic burns to your side, which took at least three months to fully heal. Looking at Kaeya, he appeared to be as relaxed as ever, both hands loosely tucked into his pockets, his steps led by his elegant hips. The eerie silence of the woods didn’t seem to bother him at all, a comfortable void between the both of you.

“So, captain”, you begun, doing your best to break the proverbial ice a bit, trying not to let the emptiness of the whole forest get to your head. “How have you been? It’s been a while since we last took an assignment together, I believe. 3 months already, isn’t it?”

Kaeya chuckled. “Oh, drop the formalities, [y/n].” He looked at you with his singular, unobscured eye with a teasing glance. “You’ve always known me as just Kaeya, havent you?”

Blood rushed to your face, although not entirely unwelcome, due to the chilliness of the forest. You hoped that the twilight shadows could hide your red cheeks from the man beside you.

“To answer your question, I am doing exceptionally well, thank you”, he smirked. “Although, the last time I did see you was only about a month ago, at the Windblume Ball. Not sure if you remember it all though—you were rather... intoxicated, it seemed.”

Oh, archons. You didn’t know if your face could possivly get any redder from the embarassment. The Windblume Ball was a month prior, hosted by the Knights for all citizens of Mondstadt to attend, to end the Windblume Festival with a night of wine, music, and dancing. Your group of friends within the Knights convinced you to attend along with them, though they didnt quite succeed at convincing you to finally confess your attraction to the captain of the cavalry himself. You acquiesced only on the condition that you would not have to interact with Kaeya at all that night. The anxiety was simply too much and you did not want to deal with the potential situation of seeing Kaeya in formalwear and absolutely losing your mind, let alone Kaeya seeing you dancing and drinking.

“Oh, come on, [y/n]”, your friends had whined. “If you don’t tell him now, when will you ever? He most definitely finds you attractive, as well.” Chuckling, you took a sip of the wine lrovided by the Dawn Winery. You cringed at the sourness of cheap grapes. “I’ll tell him when I’m dead.” You took another sip of the wine, but over the rim of the glass, you saw the one person you were hell-bent on avoiding.

Kaeya Alberich stood across the room, talking to one of the other knights. He was dressed to the nines, in clothing you had never seen him don before. His hair was parted neatly, his long lovelock secured by a large sapphire band. His lean, upper body was covered by a three piece suit, fitted perfectly around his narrow waist, tailcoat resting neatly by his thick, carved thighs. His pants were pressed tightly, without a wrinkle, and he had brought along his usual white fur cape, giving him the sophisticated look of a king.

In awe, you spluttered in your drink as he caught your eye from across the room, clearly noticing you were staring at him. You turned the other way, seeing that your friends were making fun of your oblivious gawking, and they now excitedly pointed behind you, mouthing the words he’s coming! You tried your best to smooth down your hair and pat down your outfit, before turning back around to see that the captain was standing in front of you, face-to-face, with his hand outstretched.

He looked even more sparklingly glamorous up close, an image of old-world elegance that you never knew him capable of portraying. You suddenly felt more drunk than any cheap wine could possibly make you. Kaeya looked at you, a gleam in his eye, and asked

“May I have this dance, [y/n]?”

The rest of the night was a blur, what with your continued consumption of alcohol, convincing yourself you needed to periodically top up your liquid courage. Kaeya had asked you for a few more dances, as far as you remembered. But from what you could recall, he was just as elegant and charismatic as you had always remembered him to be. He never made you feel out of place.

It was awful that Kaeya only seemed to remember how disgustingly drunk you were, but you were thankful at least that he didn’t seem to recall the perpetual state of flusteredness you were in that night, by his mere presence beside you, and his hands guiding yours as you both danced to the upbeat music of the band.

“Archons, I assure you that I am not the unabashed drunkard I may have seemed to be that night”, you chuckled.

Kaeya let out a hearty laugh, his voice reminding you of the sounds of the bells ringing atop the Cathedral. “Of course not, my dear”, he drawled. “I’ve met many a drunkard in my day—you are far from one; I promise.”

You and Kaeya kept on your way in this manner, making pleasant small talk to fill the silence. You didn’t dare tell him for fear of seeming a coward, but hearing his voice and reminiscing with him diminished the fright you initially felt, entering the woods and taking on this assignment. Kaeya was a master conversationalist, and diplomat too, no doubt, always knowing what to say at what time. His warm remarks and playful banter took your mind off of the imminent danger of your situation, and you didn’t notice the path you were both on narrowing. The sun had already set, and the woods were doused in an eerie darkness, and as you and Kaeya approached the vicinity of the ruins, the thickets grew denser and the tree branches hung lower. Not a sound could be heard--

Until suddenly, Kaeya stepped in front of you, blocking your path with an arm outstretched. Shit. You smelled Abyss magic. How could you have possibly missed the putrid scent of sulfur before? 

Kaeya’s grin had fallen. His attention was now beyond only you, as if trying to detect something he sensed nearby. Out of nowhere, a hum grew, louder, until an earblasting pop rang out in front of you and Kaeya, and in its place were three Pyro Abyss mages. Three. You could handle one, if you had a partner with you, but three? 

Terror ran down your spine, knowing how difficult your Cryo vision could be against a Pyro mage. Your hand unsheathed the sword at your side with blinding speed, just like you were trained, but before you could even take a step forward, Kaeya was already charging at the mages, ice blasting forth from his swordtip, smashing up against the mages’ shields.

“Aren’t ya glad I caught that, [y/n]?” Kaeya teased, sword cutting through the air and the force fields surrounding the mages, as their strained groans pierced the night air. His movements were swift and effortless; at times his movements were so fast that it looked like he teleported from one spot to the next. This was the grace, the beauty of a true prodigy. “If I hadn’t stopped you, we would’ve been roast boar by now!” 

You jumped into action, assisting Kaeya with his assaults against the mages, doing your best to dodge the onslaught of fireballs. You felt the heat of the fire magic graze your extremities more than once, counting your blessings that it was nothing critical. The way the two of you moved in unison, one complementing the other, like an avalanche of piercing ice, was a testament to the years of experience you gained in under Kaeya’s expert tutelage. One sword piercing the left, the other the right, until you both had broken down two of the Pyro mages’ shields. You had never gotten through their force fields in such rapid succession before, you thought, in awe. Swinging your sword calculatedly, whilst utilizing your vision and shooting out ice crystals, you defeated the mage, dealing a killing blow, piercing its side with your sword. You watched the creature groan out gutturally, and eventually dissipate into ash, drifting away. 

Turning around, you noticed that Kaeya had already taken care of the other mage, already breaking down the final one’s shield. He dodged each blast of Pyro magic with grace and ease, not even showing any sign of fatigue. 

“Hey, good work rookie!”, Kaeya teased, activating his ultimate Cryo weapon, sending a halo of ice crystals about his body, knocking into the mage’s shield with every swing.

You huffed. “I’m not a rookie”, you called back, joining him in his siege upon the last enemy. Exhaustion was quickly catching up to you, although you tried to hide it. You couldn’t let Kaeya down. 

Over and over, the pair of you banged upon the force field with your swords, with more difficulty than any of the previous mages. This one was different, somewhat stronger. The grass surrounding the two of you was already lit up in flames, licking at your ankles. If you even so much as tripped, the heat would probably damage you more than a fireball could. 

“Watch out, rookie”, Kaeya yelled in your directions, trying to be heard above the cackling of the mage and the raging flames, already beginning to catch onto the trees nearby. The night was filled with a reddish glow--hellish and suffocating. “I think it’s about to activate it’s ultimate.”

The cackling grew louder, as you worked yourself into a frenzy, shooting more and more ice crystals, trying to break it’s force field. Three, dragon-like heads began to emerge around where the mage floated. Fuck. The fire-breathers were out. You had only ever fought a Pyro mage that could use fire-breathers once before--that also happened to be the instance that caused you to be an invalid for several months, healing from a deep flesh burn. But Kaeya was here this time. Things would be okay, right?

You could tell Kaeya was growing panicked as well, his swings becoming a bit more hurried and erratic. You didn’t know, but he was deathly worried about you. He had no idea how experienced you were with dodging the fire-breathers, and he knew he had to make quick work of the blasted mage before things could escalate, Archons forbid you get hurt. Kaeya activated his ultimate once more, and, finally, the mage’s shield broke. 

You heaved a sigh of relief, closing in on the Pyro mage. Kaeya’s strength and incredible reliability in battle did not fail to impress you, even beyond just the prowess he had demonstrated as a trainee and a mentor. You finally activated your own ultimate, summoning a boulder made of hard ice. Approaching the mage as you saw it struggle to get up off the ground, the ice in your boulder began to form, and you willed it to hurl towards the mage, intending to finish it off. Finally, you would show Kaeya your true strength, your capability. He could depend on you. Hell, you were his star student. Even if you were afraid to tell him about how he had stolen your heart, you could at least show him that the time and effort he had dedicated to you wasn’t for naught. 

The seconds slowed down, as the blinding white ice made its way through the air, aimed straight at the pathetic mage, groveling in the dirt. But beyond the ice, was something even brighter, not making its way to the mage; no, it was headed straight at you. A fireball. 

You felt an excruciating pain on your left side, right below your ribcage. A scream in the distance--the mage? No; it was Kaeya’s voice. The white-hot pain blinded you, as you felt your back make contact with the hard ground beneath you. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Archons, what will Kaeya think? 

Vaguely willing your arm to press into your side to assess the damage, you felt warm, sticky liquid pooling on your waist. Lifting a hand, you saw it drenched in crimson blood, dark in the moonlight. You heard another scream again nearby, this time coming from the guttural squeaks you knew was the mage, the dying cries of a pitiful monster. At once, a pair of arms lifted you from the ground, supporting your head. What a damned disappointment you were. 

“[y/n]! [Y/N]! DAMMIT!” You had never heard Kaeya this worked up before. The pain of hearing the panic in his voice was also tinged with a selfish gladness that he cared, that Kaeya Alberich gave a damn if you died. Because, in that moment, you were certain you would die.

Straining out a chuckle, your chest racked up a wet cough, sticky blood now staining the edges of your lips. I’ll tell him when I’m dead, you once said. Well, isn’t this all quite ironic.

“Fucking hell, [y/n], I need you to keep your eyes open”, Kaeya commanded. He was using his captain voice, the one that only comes out when a new recruit wasn’t following orders. “Rookie, don’t you dare pass out on me.” His voice wavered.

Would it be worth it to tell him now? Did you want his last memory of you to be a pathetic, wishful fantasy spilling forth from your bloodstained lips, like the nonsense uttered by a mere child? Your vision spun faster, losing sight of Kaeya, hovering over you. You couldn’t make out his features too clearly in the darkness, but something about the wet drops of water landing on your cheeks told you that it wasnt more blood. You supposed that you should do yourself justice and at least keep the one promise you made that night in Mondstadt.

Straining to open your mouth, you uttered, “Kaeya, I—”

But before you could muster the strength to speak another word, your vision went dark.

*****

The first thing you heard when you woke up was the sound of birds chirping. The second was a silent snoring sound coming from somewhere to your right.

Cracking your weary eyes open, you sensed the faint light of the early morning coming in through an nearby window. Getting your bearings, you realized you had woken up in the Knights of Favonius headquarters hospital. Your damaged adventurer’s clothes were gone, and instead you could feel bandages dressed around the wound at your side. Oh, right. You thought you had died.

Trying to sit up, you fekt an excruciating pain burn through the side of your body that had been hit, setting your nerves on fire. You hissed, and the snoring beside you abruptly stopped.

“Archons, you’re awake.”

Kaeya sat up from the chair he had apparently been sleeping in, still dressed in his captain’s armor, just as dirt-covered and singed as when you last saw him. Was that only last night? You figured Kaeya must have hurried you back to the city before your condition could get any worse.

Fuck. As all your memories of the prior night came flooding back, your eyes pooled up with salty tears. Not only had you cone closest to death than you’ve ever had, you had completely disappointed Kaeya and made a fool of yourself in front of him.

“Kaeya, I’m so sorry—”, you started.

Your words were interrupted by the man next to you leaping into your embrace, arms wrapping your shoulders where you were not injured. “Dammit, [y/n]. When won’t you just shut up.” His voice was muffled by his face buried into your neck. “You don’t have to say a word.”

It scared you, seeing him vulnerable. The ever-cocky and cunning captain of the cavalry, the man who always had a plan and was never caught off-guard. Now, a man bearing his innermost emotions to you, little old you. Had he heard what you begun to tell him last night? Or were things going to return back to the way they were, you admiring his dazzling beauty from a distance, comfortable yet agonized at the degree of separation.

You hoped to the archons for the latter. You hoped that it wouldn’t take another instance where you almost lost your life for the love you felt for him to spill forth. Archons, even if you had to die, it would still all be worth it, if it were with him at your side.

Kaeya trembled as he pressed himself deeper into you, desperately clinging on. “Don’t you dare open your mouth, rookie”, he chided. “I don’t want to hear something you’ll only tell me when you’re almost gone. Please just let me do the talking.”

Pulling back, you looked at him in confusion. His hair was disheveled, eyepatch slightly askew, yet his face was full of an almost childlike wonder, akin to the gleam he possessed when you had first met him, however many years ago.

“Do you think I did it all for nothing?” Kaeya looked at you. “Do you think all those years of training together, eating together, soarring together, was all because I thought you had potential as a soldier? The private walks through Windrise, the nights spent at the tavern, the dance, that damned dance we shared—what did you think that was?” Desperate and exhausted, Kaeya’s eye began to shimmer with tears. “Fucking hell, [y/n]. I’ve always loved you. Since the very beginning, you idiot. Why else would I dedicate all my time, all my energy to you and only you?” He grasped your shoulders tighter. “If you think that I haven’t been madly in love with you since I first laid eyes upon you that day, then you’re fucking wrong.”

You cut him off, burying your hands into his hair—pain be damned—and kissed him. It was bitter and metallic, the taste of both of your blood on your tongue. Kaeya’s neck was ice cold, but his cracked lips were thick and warm, and when you pulled away from them, you suddenly felt like you could take on the world.

“Well”, you remarked. “I’m glad that we got that out of the way.”

a/n: uhuhuhu this is pretty long but i hope you like it! i wanted to improve my writing a bit and elaborate on descriptions a bit more, so i hope i did your request justice!

[pitifulbaby]

business as usual ⤿ eight

THE PHONE

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

chapter warning: n/a

a/n: listen i am so sorry for taking so long to get this chapter out, i get into these moods where i am like ‘yes, writing!’ then i get the days of having no ideas. i really am trying so please dont think i am abandoning this story! i am still very new to writing stories, in WDB thats the furthest ive ever gotten in writing a story. on top of this all, me and @youlightmeupfinn​ have started doing some christmas prompts and the requests are open if you are interested in that! also i have made up a little faceclaim list right here! once more characters are introduced i will post another list. happy reading!

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James stared down at your shattered phone in his hand, after you had ran off he realized your phone was still on the ground. He wasn’t just going to leave it there, so now he was seated in the car, staring down at the phone.

The Mercedes Benz he drove was parked, biting at his bottom lip as he never took his eyes off the small device. Your phone was an older version, it ran slow and couldn’t hold much on it, but it was all you could afford. His thumb gently grazed the cracked screen. He knew he needed to get this back to you, but he couldn’t just show up to your house again.  

Especially after what just happened.  

He was soon pulled from the moment once the phone in his hand started ringing, his eyes widened as he read the name across the screen.

MADDY

It read with an array of random emojis, in a panic his hands started to fumble. As he fumbled he accidentally pressed answer, without thinking he let out a curse before grasping the phone in a tight hold before pressing the red end button. His heart was racing fast as he breathed out heavily, placing your phone into the cup holder before resting his forehead against the steering wheel.

Soon enough messages started pinging on the phone, the screen lighting up with your background. The photo was of a landscape, causing him to smile ever so at the photo. But the smile slowly vanished as his eyes scanned the messages that kept coming in from Maddy.  

‘I hope you didn’t actually mean to hang up on me!’

‘I’ll fight you, I have no worry about losing against you’

‘Stop ifnorjn me!!’

‘Ignoring lol anyways call me back rn!’

His brows furrowed in nervously biting at his bottom lip. Truth be told he didn’t know what to do in this situation, and Bucky always knew what to do. He softly frowned at the phone, groaning as the messages kept coming in. He resisted the urge to keep reading the messages, huffing as he turned the volume down low to cease the ever so constant ‘ping!’  

James sighed softly before picking the phone back up, turning it over in his hand a few times before huffing and placing it back in the cup holder.

From where you lived and the age of your phone, he kinda figured money was tight for you. And he has this strong and strange urge to just pay for everything for you. He was confused, that’s all he felt lately.  

 You were currently at home, typing in the passcode to your laptop. You were planning to contact Maddy through skype. She used her laptop at least twice a day, so you have a good chance of her responding tonight. Well, that is if her date didn’t go well and she went back home instead of to some randos house to bang the night away and then never talk to him again.

Finally the laptop is fully on, quickly you sign into your Skype, typing as fast as you could to your best friend with slightly shaky fingers. Once the message is sent you start to nervously bite at the sides of you finger nails. It didn’t take long to get a message back, and the message you got was slightly unsettling to say the least.

‘You mean you werent the one who asnwered the phone??’

You ignored her typos, she was probably drunk.  

‘No I wasn’t?? Did they say anything?’

With a sigh you await her next message, moving to grab a throw blanket to wrap around your shoulders.

‘just som curzsing! It does make sense it wasn’t you tho, the voice was vrerry manly lololol’

Your brows furrowed at that, a manly voice. Of course the first person you think it could be is Bucky, would he do that? How would he have even found it? How did you even forget your phone, you had that thing on you at all times.  

With a sigh you think back a few hours, trying to figure out where the phone was last at the bar. First it was in your purse, then you were playing on it, then that dude was there, then the entire deal. You had it in your hand.

You dropped it and accidentally left it on the bar floor. As much as you hoped that the bar was still holding onto your phone, praying that a kind stranger picked up the probably now shattered phone and turned it in. You know the chances were slim. It was New York after all and most people here weren’t the nicest.

So you knew the chances of getting the phone back were slim to none. But the chances of Bucky having your phone were a little better. And honestly you didn’t know which you would prefer, it be stolen and in the hands of a stranger. Or in the hands of one of the scariest mob bosses of New York who has a weird fascination with you.  

You ignore the incoming spam of messages from Maddy, she was going on about her date and you just weren't in the right mindset to read her basically incoherent string of sentences. It didn’t make you a bad friend to ignore her messages, you would respond in a few minutes.  

Huffing, you rub at your eyes before you let out a groan. You hadn't taken off your makeup so you had just smeared the black eyeliner. You send a quick ‘brb’ to Maddy before getting up from the seated position you had on the floor. Making your way into your bathroom, your blanket had fallen from your shoulders at some point on the way into the bathroom. Before getting there you had grabbed a set of pajamas to change into.

You wanted out of the dress and makeup that felt caked on from the hours of wear. Opening the medicine cabinet you grab out the makeup remover and the face soap.  

After a few moments your face is cleared of the makeup and clean, a thin layer of moisturizer across your skin. A pair of shorts and an oversized sweater over your body. Your mood had lifted ever so slightly from just cleaning yourself up.

You shuffled back to the living room, grabbing the discarded blanket on the way. You once again threw it over your shoulders, plopping down onto the couch. Once you were seated you pulled the laptop onto your lap, eyes widening at all the messages Maddy had managed to send in ten minutes. With furrowed brows you read through her messages, having to reread a few of them being as the spelling was so off in her drunk state.  

Before you could even respond, the sound of the skype incoming call interrupted your writing. You quickly answered it, and soon enough her face was popped up on the screen. Her makeup was smeared a bit and she was still clad in her red dress that you helped her pick out, gold jewelry accenting her tanned skin.  

Her dark hair was pulled up into a messy bun. She was a beautiful mess.  

Her lips turned up into a bright smile at  the sight of you. "Have you read my messages?” She asked, she spoke quick with wide eyes. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the alcohol taking its course in her body.  

“Yes I did, I assume you had a good date?” You questioned, shifting on the couch. She let out a giggle, nodding her head. “Oh it was the best! He was so sweet and handsome.” Maddy said happily with a sigh, resting her chin in her hand. From what you could tell she was in her kitchen, leaning against her counter.

With an arched brow you slowly smirk, “Do you think there will be a second date?” You questioned her, pushing some of your hair out of your own face before you leaned to grab your glasses on the table. Once the frames were in your hold you glided them onto your face. Blinking a few times to adjust to the lenses.  

Your eye doctor said you needed to wear them all the time, but you forgot to wear them. He recommended contacts but you felt like you would forget about them and leave them in your eyes. And that just didn’t sound like something fun.

Maddy rants on and on about her date happily, you try and listen but the events of the day weigh you down and cause exhaustion to make itself present. With a yawn you cover your mouth, causing Maddy to stop her ranting.

“Am I boring you?” She questions, no sign of an attitude or joke in her question. You shake your head no, moving your glasses to rub your eyes. “No, never. Just, had a long day. And I'm upset about my phone.” You brush off her question. You honestly felt bad for seeming uninterested in her date, and you aren't! You are always interested in anything she says and does, she wouldn’t be your best friend if you weren't.  

She pouts softly before taking a swig of her water bottle, pushing away a few fly away hairs that seemed to slip out of her updo. “I’m sorry babe,” She mumbled out, but you only shook your head with a smile.  

“Don’t worry about it, really! Now, tell me more about this date.”  

business as usual tag, ( wanna be added? use the form! ) :  @youlightmeupfinn @writing-for-marvel @sarahm2003 @badasseddy @l0st-in-reality @vickybelle @daddys-minty-princess @i4maybank @stillthatbetch @terry2227 @emily-roberts @bideckersdiamonddoll @cxddlyash @boofy1998 @calwitch @striving4averagegirl @stuckybarton @speedysimp @chloe-skywalker  @everythingiloveandcherish 

[akaashigiri]

Sleepy Jaegers

summary: eren and y/n are at a gathering at armin’s place, and their 2 year old is exhausted. eren is equally as exhausted.

pairing: dad!eren jaeger x fem!reader

word count: 1.69k

warnings: none, fluffff

a/n: sigh my baby fever possessed me to write this 💔 might make armin a father as well if people end up liking this one (i will anyway) 😋

These gatherings were almost like a ritual to the group.

There wasn’t ever a specific place they met, they would always gather in different places, wether it’d be the beach, a park, or at one of their homes. It didn’t matter where it took place, just as long as everyone was there. Everyone was obligated to come.

So of course that includes the littlest Jaeger.

It was mid September, and although the weather wasn’t bad at all, some didn’t really feel like going out to public places like the local park, so the group decided on Armin’s new place, since Sasha and Annie still have yet to see it (their homes are farther from the rest)

They were all gathered in the spacious living room; Jean and Sasha on the long couch, while Mikasa and Armin sat on the smaller one. Historia and Ymir shared the beige-colored chair in the corner of the room, while Annie sat on one of the kitchen stools as she watched Y/N and Connie do the dishes (Armin insisted, but the two almost threatened him if he were to touch a dish).

As soon as Eren walked in, he all but restricted anyone from sitting on the big beige reclining sofa, claiming that he deserved it for helping Armin pick it out. Eren was grateful for going to Ikea that day with Armin to pick out the sofa he was now slouched on, recliner out and all. It was now his favorite spot in the whole house (besides the kitchen, since he loved playing around with the smart refrigerator).

As Y/N passed another dish for Connie to rinse and dry, she suddenly felt a tug on her pants, looking down to meet the tired eyes of her daughter.

She was quick to rinse and dry her hands to pick her up, giving all of her attention to the little girl. “Aw, what’s wrong Mimi? Everything alright?” She asked, already noticing the fatigue on her face.

She only snuggled into her mother’s neck, giving her the simple response of, “Tired.” Her vocabulary was fairly short, due to the fact that she was only 2 and learned her words from the ones around her (Eren got in big trouble the day Y/N heard the word ‘shit’ come out of her daughter’s mouth).

Y/N wasn’t surprised she got tired easily today, since Jean gave her more candy then Y/N would usually allow. And with the way her, Ymir, and Mikasa were running around in the yard earlier today, Y/N already saw this coming.

“You’re tired?” she asked again, earning a nod from the crook of her neck. “Okay, mommy’s almost done. Go sit next to daddy until I finish, okay?” She tells her, moving her head back to face her daughter again. Myra nodded, allowing her mother to put her down.

Walking tiredly, Myra slowly moved through the kitchen and made her way to the living room, spotting her father laidback in the corner of the room, limbs sprawled out on the sofa.

Eren wasn’t sure if it was the father instincts, but he was the first to notice her presence in the room, stopping the ghost story Jean swears is real to bring his full attention to his daughter.

“Mimi’s come to save us, everyone!” Eren exclaims, throwing jazz hands up as everyone joined and cheered her on for simply walking in. Jean didn’t like what Eren was implying, but clapped nonetheless.

“You’re not funny. Aren’t dads supposed to tell good jokes?” He questioned, attempting to steal a fry from Sasha’s plate, but failing miserably as she only swats his hand away.

“No Jean, I think it’s the other way around, they’re supposed to be corny.” Armin butts in, watching with a smile as Myra finally starts walking towards her father.

Eren could already see the fatigue on her face, holding his arms out for her once she got a little closer. “What’s up Mimi, you tired?” Eren questioned, laughing as she instead of answering, simply lifted her arms up for him to take her.

She responds with a nod, her hair falling over her face as she was lifted onto his lap. As soon as she was situated, she wasted no time in making herself comfortable, wiggling out of her dad’s grasp and laying her stomach down on his, her head right above where his heart was.

“Nevermind.” he sighs, making the whole room burst out into laughter. This only made Myra whine, the loudness distrupting her attempt at sleeping. “Sorry Myra!” Sasha whispered, finally giving a fry to Jean afterwards.

“I wonder what got her so tired.” Annie questions, making Jean sink into the couch out of guilt as Eren sends him an irritated glance.

“Jean went and gave her a sugar rush before we got here. It was absolute hell.” Eren’s eyes furrow in frustration as he remembers earlier today and how hard it was for him to catch a nap without his energetic 2 year old jumping all over him. All while Jean was happily eating lunch with his wife.

“Okay, but I didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to have that much candy! Kids eat candy like crazy, right?” He attempts to defend himself, looking around the room for support, only to be met with silence.

“Yeah, thing is she’s not a kid! She’s a toddler! Dumbass.” he mumbles the last part, hoping that Y/N somehow wouldn’t hear. But she always found a way how.

“Can someone please slap Eren for me?” She yells from the kitchen. “Stop cursing in front of Myra!”

Eren has no time to defend himself as volunteers step up to do what their friend asked, but Mikasa was the quickest, and Eren was even quicker. He swiftly grabs Myra’s frog blanket from the bag sat beside him and hids his face in it, saving it from the harsh blow of Mikasa’s hand.

“You’re lucky I didn’t miss completely, I just don’t wanna wake Myra.” she confesses, walking back to her seat.

“God, I cant believe we almost named her after you.” Eren groaned, blanket still clutched in hand.

“Mimi’s close enough for me.” She smiles, noticing the way Myra starts to squirm a bit. “Throw the blanket over her, I think she’s cold.” She suggests, bringing Eren’s attention back to the little girl on his chest.

Eren is quick to unravel the rather big blanket from his grasp and take it in both hands to bring it in the air, watching it fall perfectly onto her small figure. The blanket basically covered his whole torso, the end tickling his neck a bit.

“Thanks again for the blanket, Historia. She loves it so much, a little too much.” he says, feeling his daughter move under the blanket so that her little arms were wrapped around his torso as far as she could go. “She won’t use the one I got her anymore.” he says with a slight frown.

The group laughs again, but quietly this time, not wanting the little girl to possibly wake up in a fit.

“I wouldn’t blame her, to be honest.” Jean shrugs, giving Eren a knowing glance, as well as a sly smirk. He knows how mad Y/N would get if he were to disobey her, especially a few minutes after she scolded him. Since Y/N was only a few feet away, Eren aggresively sticks his middle finger up to the man. It’s not like Myra could see through the blanket anyway.

“Are you gonna finish your ghost story, Jean?” Annie asked, although she didn’t believe a word. She just wants to see him make a fool out of himself.

Jeans eyes light up, snapping his fingers together as he sits upstraight again, ready to go into full detail once again. “Right! Okay, okay, so right when I went to shave my beard...”

Eren let’s Jean’s apparent ghost encounter story fade in the background, focusing on the shallow breaths coming from his daughter. He felt himself getting a little drowsy himself, as if her sleepiness was seeping into him.

He doesn’t waste time lifting the blanket a bit to wrap a protective arm around her small figure under it, adjusting his posture on the sofa and crossing his ankles over one another. His let his neck sink into the back of the couch, letting his head go as well so he facing the ceiling. With the warmth of the blanket and the little girl under it, he couldn’t help but close his drowsy eyes as well, finally giving in.

A few minutes pass and Jean is done telling his story, but of course, no one believes him. All except Historia. “Thank you, Historia! See I’m telling the truth. Morons.” Jean rolls his eyes at the way Armin and Sasha curl up as they laughed, Mikasa and Annie trying their best to hold in theirs.

Jean soon notices the person who would’ve regurlarly had the most to say was being awfully quiet. Getting ready to scold him for not listening, Jean is met with a site he has to admit, is the cutest thing he’s seen all year.

Eren was deep in slumber, soft snores coming from him and the little girl that rested as peacefully as he did on top of him. The print of his arm around her could be seen through the green blanket, as well as both of their steady breaths. They looked so comfortable, it would be a pain for them to get up soon, which they would have to eventually.

“Awww, they’re adorable!!” Historia exclaims from the other side of the room, which seemed to catch Y/N’s attention all the way from the kitchen.

“What’s happening? Is something cute happening? Someone take pictures!” She exclaimed, wanting to abandon the plates and take them herself, but thinks that would be rather rude to leave poor connie alone.

“On it!” Sasha and Jean say in unison. Both are quick to pull out their phones, Jean getting the more unappealing angles, while Sasha actually put some effort into it and snapped a few photos.

These were being sent to every single person on her contact list.

this was written at like 2 am sorry if there are typos i swear i reread 💔

also i’m currently working on a mob fic idk if ppl still like those but i most definitely do so watch out for that one :p

hope y’all liked this one lol

-aysha <3