#i love that this is a thing now that other idols set a precedent for this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor.

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you.

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall.

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud.

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though.

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself.

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for.

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts.

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch.

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours.

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast.

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing.

So, yeah.

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin.

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting.

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week.

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role.

You almost burst out laughing.

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure.

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking.

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop.

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table.

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?"

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud.

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table.

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t.

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression.

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back.

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh.

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty.

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness.

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises.

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never.

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response.

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually.

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it.

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it.

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck.

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you.

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going.

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue.

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's.

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss.

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away.

It started out with a kiss.

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss.

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it.

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face."

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over.

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace.

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his.

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name."

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip.

"I doubt it," he purred.

Yeah.

Jungkook was right.

Ah, well.

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms.

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips.

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm.

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand.

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm.

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name.

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed.

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him.

Oh, fuck.

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his.

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered.

Yours.

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk.

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin.

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd.

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick.

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far.

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl.

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin.

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat.

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do.

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled.

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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thestangossip · 2 years

Note

Something that really bothers me about the Case is that I feel like people have made and mockery and idolize the whole thing, like on Tiktok the other day I seen that two women got tattoos of Johnny’s lawyer or something that had to do with the case. Like this is a whole domestic violence case… why are y’all glamorizing this😐

So much about it bothers me, so much sexism and hatred of victims.

My heart is just pouring out with love and loss for victims right now, this trial sets a horrific precedent. The culture of silence has been so hard to even slightly break free from and now men have basically double down and restated that women are not allowed to speak at all.

Johnny Depp got what he wanted he "humiliated" Amber on a global scale and got away with it. Our culture is SICK and it hates women so much. I can't even begin to describe how heartbroken I am and still am from the outcome. I hope to god Amber appeals and win but at the end of the day this trial has done unimaginable damage to victims of domestic and martial violence. Women are in a place of complete of attack on all fronts, from control over our bodies, to not having the right to speak about men who physically abuse or rape us, and maintaining success in the workplace. We are in a never ending battle against men on this.

#mod belle #anonymous

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

Text

He plays too much

I don't know man

I think I have expectations of every one and everything around me. Reasonable expectations I'd say.

The sun's supposed to come up at day, moon at night.

Everything that goes up is supposed to come down.

Gravity

Trump leaving office

Gay rights. Etc.

Friends behave in a certain way as do enemies and actions speak louder than words.

I don't think it's unreasonable for me or anyone to expect that JK does certain things for certain people or likewise Jimin.

It would be strange if I thought Mijoo was the love of Jk's life and he sat still and watched her get dragged and torn apart to fight a scandal on her own in the name of his career or reputation.

I'm sorry but I find that bizarre to outright ridiculous.

Like wise, I find it difficult that anyone who claims they love a person, including themselves, would do anything or omit certain things for whatever reason.

I must be the most delusional delulu on this planet to think Jikook is real, Suga loves his little brother, Tae min are best friends, or that BTS like each other compared to other idols.

If they love eachother how are they showing that love? Let's start with that simple question.

I said this once, I'll say it again Jungkook set bad precedent within the group. It's nothing to emulate and I think the hyungs will agree.

But whatever his reasons were, now he is back online wishing them a happy birthday on their birthdays.

I wish they address this in Soop and I wish someone gets real and says how fucked up it all is or how they genuinely feel about all this.

If you don't care about the culture of giving and gifting to others and wishing them a happy birthday why bother sending them gifts at all? Why bother calling your friends to wish Jin a happy birthday?

I'm not on board with the whole love in private agenda. If you can drape all over me in public, hold my hands, touch my butt, call me bestie, say you love me ON CAMERA but think a birthday post is too sacred and personal it needs to be in private that's fuxked up and keep your hands to yourself. Fuck the skinship.

It broke my heart when I learned Jin was waiting for people to wish him a happy birthday. If you didn't feel a bit of emotion why the hell did you ask your friends to wish him and over compensate in that way?? You think he'd appreciate your friends calling him because you asked them over you staying up at zero oclock to wish him yourself???

To let those friends know he has a special place in your heart?

I see why Tuktukkers buy into this whole our relationship is not for the cameras propaganda.

And yes, Jimin got mocked because he put Jungkook on a pedestal and hyped up their bond so much it gets on people's nerves. It pisses people off the way he is with Jk and Jk you set him up when you didn't post for him.

SHAME ON ALL OF YOU.

GO TO YOUR ROOMS AND THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU'VE DONE YOU TRAITORS

BTS get a lot of hate because of the bond they pride themselves in.

They more than anyone know just how much people wanna tear them apart and mock them for 'failing' on the charts or as a team. I've seen the clap back they clap at haters who use the quantity of trophies and awards to tease them. If it doesn't affect y'all why bother? Why the long face?

Tae Kook a special case so I don't want to dwell much on it.

But my inner tuktukker is enraged.

They don't have a great image out here. They just don't. From their "we used to be close. now are we not?" and all that controversy surrounding them.

The company and they themselves have gone out of their way to try and repair that broken image. We did not need this on top.

I protest.

Talk of expectations, I don't expect them to fake it though. I expect them to keep it one hundred. Which is what makes this development interesting.

Neither Tae nor JK are known to be chasers. They keep it real real real and we love that about them- I'll keep the delulu theory to myself don't worry.

I expected him to post for Jimin last year and I expect him to post this year, next year and subsequent years unless it's something they both agree to not do such things any more or if the nature of their relationship changes.

I said last year JM's birthday is important to him. And he did echo similar sentiments when he talked about retaliating against Jikook if he ever not do something as nice as he did for Hobi.

I said also I found that assertion he made questionable because in the past he is the same person who adviced Jungkook to not feel pressured to do things for his hyungs just because they felt some way about him getting all of them presents n not Jimin.

So yes, I had question marks over that and I don't think I hid that fact.

Jimin puts Jungkook on a pedestal. Jungkook don't. He distorts his rose colored glasses.

Thank God he's evolving and addressing the facades and his pretenses.

Last year when I was talking about his facade yall were busy disagreeing with blocks of texts and syllogisms and verbal abuse.

Keep that same energy for Jimin and disagree with him.

JK have equally talked about how he like to celebrate his special day and what not.

It's the I love to be loved Jimin said for me. It's up to the people around him to take him up on that challenge and show him how much they love him if not they assholes and they don't deserve him period.

Someone mentioned Promised...

Yes.

I have time today. We gonna get through all that today😊

Also bear with me I need to process Tae Kooks mess out of my system.

GOLDY

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monsoonblooms12 · 3 years

Text

The Butterfly Effect (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Journey from where it all began to where they are now. From a 2-minute power nap to a Miami kiss, Pooja and Ethan have come a long way. From Pooja's POV (Set in OH Bk 1 Ch 10 and contains flashbacks from OH Bk 1 Ch 1, Ch 4 and Ch 5)❤

The Butterfly Effect: Discovered by Edward Lorenz, this theory suggests that something small and insignificant, can alter situations in such a way that leads to utterly drastic changes. For example, a butterfly flaps its wings at an Amazonian Jungle and subsequently a storm ravages half of Europe. (This has to be one of my favorite theories ever🦋)

A/N: I got inspired from a dark Academia quote and here we are with 2.4K of mess. But I enjoyed providing all the fbs from Poo's POV and filling in the gaps of the unknown. And all the DbC peeps, I am trying to finish ch 8 believe me😭

Thank you so much to @jamespotterthefirst for Pre-reading! Love you🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🦋

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 2.4K

Rating: General

Category: A messy mix of Fluff and Angst

Warnings: None that I found

A grain of sand, almost imperceptible to the human eye, 2 millimetres in diameter. Just a tiny little grain of sand, a single one. One would wonder how great of an effect that could produce?

A single grain of sand, eliminated from the base of a sand sculpture, can set on fire a cascade of events that result in something as drastic as the demolition of the entire sculpture. Just a trifling 2 mm sized grain of sand.

Tufts of hair gently swayed with the swooshing ocean breeze, the very grains of sand of which her mind was thinking about slip through gaps of her toes. It's a calming atmosphere, having a Zen-like effect on her racing heart and confused reasoning.

The echoing crash of ocean tides, the hushed ruffle of her shimmering purple dress, and the pattern of her footsteps of the white sand, now silver under the enchanting moonbeams.

She could not think about bad ideas and good ideas anymore. Nor could she obliterate the delicate touch of peach lips ingrained in her mind. Everything was a lock of tangled hair, a chaotic mess in her mind.

And when you can't disentangle a mess, you just tear it off.

That was what she was doing, tearing herself away before her mind got engulfed by a cocoon of ambiguity and concealed probabilities, restricting her to get out without getting transformed into someone else.

Legs exhausted after strolling for who knows how long, Pooja sits down, not bothering about the sheet of sand fragments that adhered begrudgingly to the purple satin.

A simple motion ensues, the florid hair tie holding her brown hair strands in a ponytail, now lay in her hand, giving them the liberty to enjoy the tranquillity of the idyllic scene they found themselves in.

Relaxation. That was what she anticipated. The soothing of her racing heart, the clearing of her muddled head, the easing of her bothering thoughts.

But it never came, the relaxation she desired.

Instead, her fingers, for a reason mysterious even to her, fidgeted the diamond imitation bracelet that embellished her left wrist. A twitch unveiled a vague scar, a remembrance of an old episode entirely cleared off from her mind.

Flashback

Pooja was a Potterhead. An extreme one indeed. Sometimes the thought made her chuckle. How she despised the books once, presuming they were overrated. And then, as if a magic trick had been performed on her, she became the Maven of the Harry Potter club.

But being a Potterhead and having to live in a niche under the stairs did not go hand in hand. The room under a staircase was still a room under a staircase. And every day, her mind replayed the poem of curses to her, as if to warn her to never search for an apartment on a Facebook Group ever again.

And now she stood, waiting for the century-old toaster's ping, as sleep struck like pin-pricks on her eyelids, threatening to close them off. It was a bad day today, the phone battery drained, and she, coffee drained. And the cherry on the top? Today was the first day of her residence at the most prestigious hospital in the entire States.

Uff!

She yawned the hundredth time, sleep playing a tiring game of chess with her mind, and giving it a Check! every now and then.

I don't even know a goddamn coffee shop around in here!

Displeased grunts accompanied the thought as she took the knife and began slicing the apple she had been floundering around for quite some time.

One Slice, and Another, and Ano-

Snorr!

What an ability it was to fall asleep anywhere, in any position! What harm would a "Power Nap" of a minute or two do? Right?

AAHHH!

The scream came out in bits, first when her eyes fluttered open with the sudden pain. A pause followed when she actually looked at the source of it and after her eyes and mind registered what was happening, came the second scream.

She was getting the taste of just how profitable the power nap was.

Hurrying away, she rummaged around for a first aid box, failed to find it, trotted to her Harry Potter adobe and took out the medical goodies she had brought with her. After ransacking through it, she found the antiseptic and the swabs she was looking for. Then a faint sound came from the blinking cellular and she picked it up, not waiting for breakfast. Just as she clicked the unlock button...

HOLY SHIT!

What? How? Her mind could not register. The only thing she understood was that she was notoriously late for her first day, and now she would have to do all the running that she had avoided for all the preceding years.

Letting out another pained groan, she kicked two flowerpots on her way to the kitchen, took the toasted slices of bread, switched off the stupid piece of machinery and ran.

She was sure she would have come first in any marathon if she had run in them with the speed she was racing right now.————————————————————————

Did she know about Dolores Hudson? No, she didn't. Had she planned on telling about her to Dr Ramsey? No, she hadn't.

The two words had inadvertently slipped off her tongue, not envisioning it as an indication. But as soon as they reached his ears, it felt as if a domino had been pushed. One pushed on to the other, leading to a chain of events that had given no hints, no warnings at all.

And now she was in the NICU, chatting with the man whom she considered an idol, a role model as if they were old companions. It was an enchanting experience to see the intern-terrorizing gentleman, so ... normal.

She questioned her mind's choice of word, but she did not completely disagree. To see Dr Ramsey, sitting here with an intern, talking with her, for no particular purpose other than the fact that she decided to stay back here in contrast to any other person, who would have valued their sleep than watching over a premature baby with whom she had no connection.

When sleep muddled her thoughts, she didn't realize what she was doing. Head lowered into his shoulder in a motion that felt like a reflex embedded in the nerve cords of her spine. She missed the gentle smile, decorating the handsome face of his, as he watched her from the corner of his eye, his eyes holding an emotion unrecognizable.

Was it affection? Pride? Adoration? Or something completely different? Who knew.

But if there was something she did know after that day, it was that she felt lucky, damn lucky, for that slip of the tongue.————————————————————————

How idiotic of her the decision was, she didn't want to talk about it.

Pooja had only found herself running the way she was running now on the first day of her residence, and she had only herself, and no one else to blame.

Why did she think that giving up on the most wanted position for every medicine intern in Edenbrook for friends when every one of them participated in it was a good idea?

If only her brain comprehended her priorities appropriately, she wouldn't have to rush through roads like a person who was missing their train.

Panting, grunting, and completely tensed, she arrives at Edenbrook. Steps don't slow down until she arrives before the light beige door, huffs and puffs, not pausing for a split second. She doubted if her legs still had the power to walk or if she would have to crawl into the office.

Nah, no more embarrassment, she would not be able to bear it. With the power that remained in overworked limbs, she knocked, entered and gave her reasons for the delay. And then, by a margin of a minute, she signed the sheet, absolutely normal but still holding the power to twist her entire life in an unforeseen way.

But did she regret it? She couldn't, and she wouldn't.————————————————————————

Miami. The city of gorgeous beaches, giving the aesthetic of peach and teal life. The expensive marble-floored hotel rooms in which she found herself was unreal. Definitely not made for some random intern.

Gorgeous decorated interior, delicately manicured lawns, elegantly made fountains, all standing majestically, giving a fight to each other. She glided through the vast space, joy overcoming job as she breathed the calming salty air coming from the oceanfront, which appeared like a picture frame in front of her. She had never seen anything so perfect in her life.

It was like Ataraxia.

She preferred Mountains over Beaches. She always had, and without a doubt, she always will. But when something looks so heavenly, it would be absolute stupidity to forego the chance of visiting it, even if it contrasted her preferences.

Forgetting the not-so-pleasant interaction with Declan Nash, which appeared like a stone in her perfect day, she let her sensations delve into the delicious culinary masterpieces that melted in her mouth like wax.

All the merrymaking and socializing drained her. But the gentle talks, soft giggles that she shared with him, an extraordinary, priceless moment, seemed to charge her, rejuvenate her. A corner of her heart did hope for something to happen. But she hushed it, not wanting to spoil the casualness, the beauty of the simplicity that blew in the air between them.

It felt like existing in the setting of one of those Michael Faudet quotes, one of them particularly being emphasized by her mind.

"As our eyes meet, all-time seizes to exist. The dying second frozen like petals of red roses kissed by autumn frost."

Pooja's mind still reeled, falling freely into the void as passion and some unnamed emotion overtook them. His heart steady under the touch of her palm and hers racing under the touch of his. She would not be able to remove the unreal image from her idiot of a heart, even if she wanted to.

Sleep refused to come to her, even after calling it repeatedly. She sat up, relieving the memory, playing in front of her like a sepia movie on the silver screen. Eyes travelling around, only to fall on a bouquet kept neatly at one of the antique corner tables.

It was white lilies and purple orchids.

Pooja Sharma didn't know the language of flowers when she received them, with a tag casually signed as E. A vague tag like that did not help to know the actual sender. The man whom she kissed had a name beginning with E, the hotel she was staying in had a name beginning with E.

Hell, even the hospital she worked in had a name with the letter E.

But if she had known the language of flowers, she would have pinpointed the symbolism hidden in it.

The White Lily carrying the meaning of Purity, Sweetness while Purple Orchids a clear cut indicator of admiration and elegance.

She would have been able to tell which E had sent the delicately wrapped piece that now lay uncared for in the corner of her room.

Feelings overcrowded reason, and she found herself suffocated in the very room that seemed heavenly to her in the morning.

Slowly and silently, she walked away to find the solace which he or she could not give her, in nature.

Flashback ends

As the amaranthine ocean glistens, waves crash and the foamy water rushes to engulf her feet as she stood, hands wrapped around herself, she felt she had truly found solace. There was a spiral, an unending coil of memories, a string which, when pulled, tugged in emotions hidden in darkest corners, forgotten but related, all tied together.

It was surprising, enigmatic, how much the little brain of hers, the soft heart of hers, holds in them. A constant battle of reason and emotions ravage the tired battlefields of her body. How casually, reminiscences of a bygone day appears, flicker like the reflection in the mirror of the calm pond water, but remain clear through the ripples that spread on the surface from time to time. That's how memories work, still clear, still dear, even after passing through chaotic ripples of time.

As she reaches the end of the spiral, the helix of her thoughts, she finds herself even more astonished than she was when she reverted to the first pages of the memoirs of her stay in Boston.

It was just a minute, or a word or two. Always so insignificant.

Every ignored act added one upon another and resulted in the catastrophic mess of heartbreak and affection she found herself today.

The 2-minute Power Nap of her first day? It led to the 2-degree shift of the knife and the scar that her finger was tracing now.

That 2-degree shift led to the delay in her reaching the hospital?

It resulted in her meeting her mentor, which gave her the chance to do the thoracotomy with him, to experience how it felt when his hand enveloped hers.

Those two words that slipped as a nonchalant thought off her tongue? It was why she could know how Ethan Ramsey was, behind the tough exteriors, the short-tempered demeanour, how it felt to place her head gently on his shoulder, to wake up to his glowing face.

And that one minute past midnight, when she signed up for the challenge that would change her life? That is why she is here, hair ruffling and eyes glistening, the Leucos Moon reflecting on the glistening water, the crepuscule spread mystically around her. That is why she knew how it felt to be touched by him, kissed by him, to get lost in him.

When Edward Lorenz discovered the butterfly event, he had correlated mathematics and meteorology. Had he thought that the same butterfly effect had turned an unassuming intern's life upside down, pushed her so back in the void of circumstances that it was impossible to come back?

Just a 2-degree shift of a knife, and now she was here in Miami. Just like the unassuming butterfly's flap of wing, which now ravaged a storm through her life.

Glassy droplets make a slow trail down the curve of her cheeks and drop on the scar as if trying to meet the origin which has brought her to the coordinates of the present.

And even though she did not know what would happen in the days to come, she was happy, truly happy, for that shift of her knife and for the 2 minutes of the power nap.

For the butterfly effect of love.

PS: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @helloayz

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010

Ethan x Pooja (fics): @aleynareads @stygianflood @choicesaddict5 @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @choicesbookclub

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rouiyan · 3 years

Text

𝘞𝘐𝘛𝘏 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌, <3 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

synopsis: in which the worst christmas ever takes a turn for the better (and it rhymes!)

✧ idol!lee jeno x (fem.) reader ✧ best friends to lovers

✧ genres : fluff → ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ → FLUFF ✧ word count : 2.8k ✧ disclaimers : none

✧ author’s note — an impulsively written fic, done in a single one-hour-long sitting, and therefore isn't structured very well and has two or three potential plot holes. was the og christmas special but then 'this shirt of his' decided it wanted to go from 300 words to >10k so there's that. merry early christmas !!

"oh dear, that was not a look," jeno hopes the sarcasm in his voice masks his fear. he's a second too slow when he pulls the photo away from your sight, you've already seen the garish fit, blue jeans with an odd cut and the equally blue long-sleeve paired with thick rimmed glasses and matted hair. haechan steals the photo from behind jeno's back and shoves it your way, a mischievous plot already forming in mind. to his delight, jeno's face grows in horror as he watches you grin excitedly at the picture in your hands. "aww, you were so awkward back then. this one's one of my favorites," jeno flushes deeply at your words, there is not a thing in him that can help it. unearthing the photo albums from their trainee days wasn't his idea. rather, it was yours, also making it so he couldn't help it.

"i think we're done for today," he hurriedly shuts the album in front of him without realizing you were still holding onto the photo. you look as if you were to complain and he's also a second away from opening it up again just to dissipate the frown on your face. instead, you say something a little more horrifying, "then can i keep this one? i like it-"

"no!" he retraces as fast as he'd exclaimed, "i mean- wait, why?"

renjun fakes vomits in the background as you reach up to pat down some of jeno's wild hairs. he's just as sick of this as haechan and the others. rolling his eyes, he watches the scene unfold before him like some monotonous kdrama, the male lead always ends up with the female lead anyways. hand back at your side, you let a giggle erupt from your bearings. jeno's face heats up a little more. "why are you so embarrassed, jen? it's not like i didn't know you back then."

the boy in front of you drags a hand across his neck in attempt to cool down the feverish feeling. "i- i know, it's just-" it's just i've liked you since back then. "i don't know," i've always known that i liked you. "it's nothing, really." what you think of me means the world to me.

jeno blinks once and you're one step closer to him. he debates never blinking again if it means never missing your actions. your hand is warm against his as you slip the picture into his palm, closing his fingers around it. jeno takes note of how your voice is also warm, "then keep it, i don't want it if you're not comfortable with me having it."

the picture lays on his bedside table as he stirs in the dark. the winter is cold and his blankets, though thick and abundant, do nothing to warm his heart, something he knows from experience only your presence can alleviate.

jeno is more than eager to toss his blankets aside and go back to gaming but he remembers the text you'd sent after you'd gotten back to your place. something like sleep early <3 though he really only remembers the '<3' part for sure. funny enough, that's the one thing that keeps him up all night.

jeno counts one minute this time, only one minute after he'd pressed the 'post' button, until he sees your username and accompanying profile picture pop up in his notifications. the nct instagram account is for all the members' use but he knows that you only follow it to like his posts exclusively. it's totally not as if he'd checked each and every post to see which ones you liked. jeno beams and punches a subtle fist into the air under the counter. unluckily for him, haechan notices. "what, she liked your post again? you know, she liked mine too."

maybe it's actually a lucky happenstance that haechan had noticed. "what?! no, she didn't." jeno dives back into the depths of his phone and scrolls through to find his friend's christmas selfie. haechan only chuckles beside him and upon hearing this, jeno looks up with a slight twitch of his lip, "so you're kidding." taking his empty cereal bowl in both hands, haechan's smile only grows snarkier as he slips off the stool. he claps a hand onto jeno's shoulder, "chin up lover boy, we all know she's only got eyes for you."

jeno clips down a smile as he returns to his own cereal, the flakes now soggy and the milk now gray. he downs it all in three gulps, sets the bowl back on the counter, spoon clattering, and reverts his eyes back onto his phone just in time to see an incoming text from you lighting the lockscreen. merry christmas! i think i might have time to come over later today, like late late. ask the others if that's fine with them. he doesn't ask, he already knows it's fine when he replies not a second afterwards yeah sure, merry christmas to you too, he pauses, taking a breather before sending the next, extremely risky, text, see you later <3.

slamming his phone face down on the counter and jolting upright, the stool almost toppling over, he grabs the bowl with such force that has jaemin in the living room popping his head in to check if he's okay. evidently, he's not. jeno scrubs at the dishes with acute fervor in hopes to mask the embarrassment and oncoming wave of doubt that's sure to overcome him if he doesn't preoccupy his mind with other things. jaemin is just about screaming over the sound of the fifty or so dishes that have been left unwashed for weeks on end. "jeno! jeno, what are you doing?!"

the clanking of tableware ceases. jeno reroutes his mind to focus on tapping his toes as fast as he can as he veers in the direction of jaemin's voice, eyes frantic. the kitchen is silent, save for the gush of water from the sink behind him, though his voice is unnecessarily loud and unnaturally high when he speaks, "i'm washing the dishes."

"yes, i can see, but like- why are-"

he's is cut off by the sound of a ping from jeno's phone on the counter. jaemin is reaching over to check the notification for him when jeno's eyes widen even further and he yanks off the pink rubber dishwashing gloves with a resounding snap and dives for his phone before jaemin can even lay a finger on it. bewildered, jaemin gives a simple, "oh," in realization as he draws back.

you're gonna love my gift, jeno. i just know you will <3

and the dishes stay unwashed. at least they got a good rinse.

late, late turns out to be even later than precedented, for you at least, though you're sure that most the boys are still awake at 2:12 in the morning. it isn't christmas anymore but you lack the attentiveness to care in the state that you are in right now, pressing the buzzer just outside their door rather aggressively and panting in equal fashion. you slump into yourself as your mind glosses over the past day and how horridly it had panned out to be. frustration curls and lashes within your actions and you want nothing more than to just drop their gifts off and leave.

crouching with both arms still planted taut on the bike, your frustrations seems to take on a path of their own, emitting echoing sobs from your being. the tears slide fast onto the floor beneath with nothing to obstruct their merry way. there, they accommodate each other to form a puddle of sorts, one that you stare intently at as it only seems to grow in size with every hiccup of a sob you give.

startled by the opening of the door in front of you, it's as if you've forgotten why you're here in the first place but upon seeing the boy at the door, your best friend who, by the look of it has been up playing games with heavy bags under his eyes, you don't bother to collect yourself or even conceal your tears.

"y/n, why are you-" he stops, he can't help the laugh that so naturally comes to him. it really is only natural when the sight before him is so dismally absurd. you have indeed come bearing gifts. one of your arms, or the elbow of it, has a giant bag looped around it, the contents of a dozen or so wrapped oblongs threatening to overflow. both hands situated soundly on the giant bike before you, your whole configuration making it slightly difficult to fit comfortably in the narrow hallway. staring up at him, first confoundingly, you mull over the situation at hand yourself and, in the midst of the tears, you start to laugh as well.

you stand, stretching out the joints in your knees as you shove the bag into his arms and then almost run the bike into his balls, shaking your head in amusement and carelessness as he gives a yelp and a jump of surprise. he takes the bag in his arms and moves to let you in, though his eyes never part from you. simply, there is much that he wants to ask but he doesn't until you are safely put upon his bed and he is safely knelt before you, hands in your lap and also clasped in your hold.

"wanna tell me?" jeno's voice is soft, and comes in waves that both surge and surf your emotions. a lopsided and unmeaning smile graces the left corner of your lips, "tell you what, exactly?"

"the bike, for starters," he leaves a pause for you to chuckle, then goes on, "the time, why you were crying in the hallway...should i go on?" you fiddle with his fingers, his own tracing across your knuckles. the smile your expression stretches a little wider and a little more forlorn. "the bike...you said the chain or something broke on yours-"

"i've could just went to go get it fixed, y/n."

"i know, i know but then there was that one day where you were going on about some bike that you wanted to try out and i kinda just committed it to memory and bought it."

"i- i'm- but that was-" he's having difficulty computing the necessary words to encompass his enthrallment, "that was like four months ago."

"yeah and i was going to go pick it up after work today except…" you lick your lips to suppress another laugh. what had you so troubled just a few minutes ago now seems like a distant memory, "except i got fired," jeno's mouth hangs open, "so i went home first to cry and then i got to the shop like three minutes before it closed and then got into an argument with an employee there and then went home to cry again and then fell asleep and then woke up and remembered i had to get it to you before the end of the day but it was already almost two in the morning so i just said, 'fuck it, imma just go and see what happens,' and, well, here i am." you let it all simmer before closing it up, "that pretty much sums it all up for you, huh."

jeno's lips are slow to crease upwards as he processes all the information. he takes his hands from yours, also slowly, and instead places them on either side of your head. you beam down at him, cheeks flaming and lifting into a mirroring, and this time genuine, smile. he gives your head a little shake back and forth, in disbelief and incredulity all at once, "all that on christmas day?"

the way he pampers you never fails to get your heart pumping and adrenaline running tens of thousands of miles per hour. a smile so wide, your teeth even make an appearance, "all that on christmas day."

"well," both his hands are now on both your knees. he looks up at you with pondering eyes and in his room, only lit by the standing lamp in the corner, simply the sight of him is enough to take your breath away. jeno's thumbs run up and down the beginnings of your shins when his lips part with realization and you follow his gaze to the nightstand where, under his phone and a few other discarded items, lies the picture you'd only been able to catch a glimpse of the other day, yesterday. he stares at it for a little before bringing it to your lap to stare at it a little more. then, he turns it over to you, "will it make you feel better if i give you this?"

taking it from him, jeno has no idea how your smile could get any wider, any prettier, but it does. both his hands are back on both your knees, kneading soft circles into the skin. he wishes you weren't wearing a skirt in such cold weather, though either way you look just as mesmerizing to him. the smallest of a chuckle topples past your lips, your pretty lips, and you look from the picture to him with your eyes, your loving eyes. "i mean," you take another glance at it, "how could it not? you were so cute back then."

"you think so?" is what comes out of his mouth but truthfully, jeno has no idea what he's doing when he gets up upon both knees, now just a little under eye level with you. he has no idea what specific thoughts are spurring him on and he has not the slightest inclination of where this sudden courage is coming from. when lee jeno brings your forehead to his own, with a hand to the back of your neck, he is numbed to the mind and sustained solely on the thrum of his gut. driven by intuition, he doesn't render the flaming of your cheeks odd, nor does he take into account the second-long glance you give to his lips, the same lips that brush the bridge of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, the heights of your brow, before meeting your philtrums and then, ever-so-carefully, the pinks of your lips.

jeno is intoxicated by how you seem to move in tune with every string of his pent up desires. he doesn't give a second thought as to why, or even how, it happens; he just knows that it's because it's you, that if anyone else were to kiss him in the same way you were doing now, he'd be missing out on the very feeling that renders him speechless, dumbfounded, bewildered, awestruck, and lovestruck all at once. pulling back just a bit, your fingers graze over the line of his jaw as you mumble a soft, "merry christmas," into his lips. jeno paces himself to ensure he doesn't stumble over his words, "be mine?"

the second kiss answers the question he's been keeping to himself since he was fifteen.

you're awake when he falls asleep, a stupid smile still plastered on that face of his and you would've had enough mind to tease him about it later, were the same smile not on your own face. you're still awake about half an hour later when jeno stirs in his sleep, though instead of moving away from you, he only holds you tighter. however, you're asleep when he awakens a few hours later, a hand coming up to groggily rub at an eye as he reaches out for his phone only to realize that he doesn't need to check his messages. how could you have texted him when you're right there, in his arms?

he only checks his messages in the hour after you leave, and even then in his manager's car on the way to some filming site, jeno blushes, madly.

i forgot to say yes <3

✧ end note — ok i KNOW the fic kinda goes 📉📉 but i only really planned for the first two scenes and was like...now what — and just wrote whatever came to mind afterwards. i hope it's not too disappointing for my first off hiatus fic but whatever mans, i'm over it! anyways, i hope you still enjoyed some parts of it and i'll have you know, i'm very glad to be back. (WILL I STOP IT WITH THE BSF2L FICS? WILL I??), rouiyan.

#neowritingsnet #neothestars #neo-constellations #neoculturecafe #jeno fluff #jeno fics #jeno scenarios #lee jeno #nct jeno #jeno x reader #jeno angst #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes #i'm back !!

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jaminjims · 4 years

Text

foreign bts 8th member {imagine}

anon request: Hi! I love your imagines!! Can I request a relationships with the members or life of a 16 year old foreign 8th member with ot7? headcanon or imagine (whichever you feel like) thank you!!!

a/n: thank you so so much for requesting bub! i loved writing this one (even though it is a little rushed) it made me think differently about some aspects of idol life, especially when looking at it from a foreigners point of view. but i really appreciate you anon, you will forever by remembered as my first requester so i really hope you enjoy this one love! ♡

pairing: platonic bts x foreign gender neutral!reader (i do have you refer to the older members as hyung though)

genre: not gonna lie, this one is pretty angsty because it deals with my experiences of how the kpop community reacts to foreign idols/young idols (that being said, not everything will be completely accurate!) but don’t worry! there are still some fluffy moments (the members just love you so much and want to protect you from the world)

warnings: bullying, loneliness, unhealthy coping mechanisms and destructive mentality

words: 2.6k

[disclaimer: when writing idol aus, i will only be focusing on the struggles of the reader, not of the idols themselves because i don’t personally know what struggles they go through and how they handle them.]

~**~

you were the youngest, and that really sucked sometimes

like for the fact that the members practically hovered over you and made sure that you were doing your school work correctly and actually completing it rather than putting it in the garbage disposal (which might've happened before) but hey! all the other members were pretty much finished with their schooling so it wasn’t fair the you still had to do yours

you have made that point multiple times only for the others to shut it down because you could basically make pockets with how full of holes that logic had

or when they fussed over you a little to much, “y/n, you’re not too stressed right?” “you’re sleeping enough right, maknae?” “here eat this, it’ll help you grow.”

you also found it hard in the beginning to really connect with anyone too. the drastic age difference between you and the others was intimidating and it didn’t help that you joined the group three years after they first debuted so everyone was pretty much like family and there you were, kinda just stuck in group that you felt like an outsider in

not to mention that you painfully stood out from them because for god sake’s you weren’t even korean

they didn’t know how to approach you either though. you were (still are) young and stubborn and had almost too much energy that you didn’t know what to do with

and even putting the group problems aside, school was also very difficult for you

your parents abruptly moved you to korea when you were young because of an amazing job opportunity so you were thrust into a schooling society that wasn’t the best

hell, you didn't even know korean the first two years you spent there

you were just... different in so many ways and that’s hard on a growing child. some of your first memories were of children laughing and pushing you because you ‘looked weird’ and ‘couldn't speak.’

and you pretty much had to deal with that kind of treatment all throughout middle school and even a little bit of high school (even after you had learned korean)

it was difficult for you to really be accepted by a society that would always see you as an outsider

so you grew up a rebellious angsty teen who was hard to really connect to because you were just so used to deflecting others opinions of yourself

and you just so happened to have a passion for dancing and singing (you were also pretty good at rapping) and that was enough to have bighit take a chance on this kid who was barely passing school

despite what everyone said about training and all the complaints about it, you actually loved it

you thrived in the type of environment where you had to constantly push yourself to be seen because you had always been pushed aside for how you looked and how you talked

sure, you missed your parents a whole lot and being a preteen only magnified that feeling, but in this dance studio, in this recording studio, is where you could really stand out in the best way possible and make an impact

you would show all the people that it was ok to be different, that you could still make it in a society that prioritized their beauty standards and had a set precedent for how you had to look

you were going to be the one to break stereotypes and actually do something

but it was because you were pushed so hard growing up, that you set ridiculously high standards for yourself and because of your mentality, if you didn’t reach those goals then you would practically hate and loathe yourself until you pushed yourself to do better

you grew to have this close looped mentality that was ridiculously unhealthy, but as long as you could prove yourself and succeed, right?

it was that mentality that placed you on bts and when you got the announcement that holy shit, you were going to be the eighth member? you had cried for the first time since you started training

and even though it was a group that was already formed, you went in the confidence in yourself that you would make your group members proud

but that brought the age difference back into play. it had always been the older kids that had picked on you, and you were defensive at first

it made you all the more motivated to seek their approval though, to make sure that they had no reason to see you as different from them, despite the way you looked and how old you were

and it was probably that fire in your eyes that drew them in

you were this little stubborn ball of energy that would concur anything in your path and still push yourself to do more

it was oddly through school work (the dreaded work) and your age that brought you guys closer

they could tell when you were struggling to get work done, and losing sleep over it. it would be the little things that gave it away, like you leaving your toothbrush out or you not putting up the clothes that were washed

and they each saw themselves in you; burning determination, ready to go up against anything. refusing to ask for help even though you needed it

so it started with namjoon

he would look in your school bag while on break in dance practice and write the answers to some of your school work on sticky notes and then put them back in your bag

you would find them later on and frown but accept the help anyways because you really were struggling

and then it would be jimin leaving you snacks in your room with encouraging notes and you would be lying if you said that didn’t help you through some tough times (you still have the notes today, but no one needed to know that)

and sometimes there were playlists that would just kind of show up on your phone that were made for relaxation and studying and something in you knew that it was yoongi’s doing

and overtime, through the tiny gestures, they broke down your walls and you let them see a side of you that no one really ever got to see because of the circumstances that you grew up in

but you were still stubborn, and refused to accept their help if they asked for it directly. which actually led to more fights than you would think

they would scold you for working yourself to hard and you would say “no, i need this exercise.” to which would lead to actual demands from them and refusals from you because its your goddamn mentality working at your confidence again

right after you were officially announced as the eighth member, that’s probably when your personality shifted the most

remember when i mentioned about how they fuss over you too much? this was the main reason why

your looks. it always had to boil down to your looks and it was different when it was only school bullies making the taunting, but when your face was up for debate by the media, is when you got really fired up

“bts adopts an outsider?” “it’s called k-pop for a reason, go back to your own country.” “is this seriously happening right now? i’m un-stanning.” “wth, y/n’s like, five. thats gross.”

it was these comments and articles that really got to you, but somewhere along the lines it wasn’t just you anymore, it was about your members and what they had already built for themselves

you had let yourself start caring for them because they treated you like an equal and now you were only hurting them

they noticed, when you started to spend more time at the gym and studio and they were informed that your grades dramatically dropped because you were so hyper focused on getting better that you were ignoring your own needs

it was jungkook that finally said something to you after about two weeks of almost radio silence because goddammit he had actually gotten used to your presence and you couldn’t just leave because he would miss you to much

they all would

they thought that you would lash out at them when they confronted you about it, but what you did surprised them and you cried for the first time ever in any of their presences

because these people, your hyung’s, where suffering from the backlash that you created and you could see how it was affecting them and it seemed like all the trust and all the hard time spent trying to seek their approval was all flushed away now and you had worn yourself down so much that there was just a kid left who was scared

so, so scared

scared because you were different, scared because you had lost the people that you had grown to care for

so when jungkook came into the practice room to see you leaning against the mirror with your head in your hands, he knew that something had changed

and when he called out for you, you didn’t answer. this pattern repeated until he was left so worried that he started shaking you and he had to call the hyung’s

it was only when they opened the door and you made eye contact with hoseok that you started to tear up and then it was like the dam that was holding years worth of fear and hardships back just ... broke

you clung to jungkook and just start sobbing and apologizing because all you wanted was to be seen and accepted but not at this high of a cost

and they were relieved. they had thought that you would close yourself off from them and shut them out, but it seemed like you were worried about that same thing as well

jin and taehyung almost cried themselves and it took everything in hoseok to stop himself from draping you in a blanket and protecting you from the world because you were still so young and you didn’t deserve the hate you got. you were only sixteen and there was only so much one person could take

you were small enough to get picked up and since you hadn’t been eating much, jungkook picked you up easily

and you didn’t protest as he carried you out of the practice room and into the van that they usually shared

you were drained and tired and worn out and just overall exhausted because you never really showed any emotion except determination, if that could even count

and even though you were all close enough that you shared meals and acted like siblings, you still surprised them everyday and showed a new part of yourself and they just found themselves growing more fond of you

once you all piled into the van, jin driving with namjoon in the passenger seat, you looked up at jungkook, (you were still held against him, practically in his lap) and then looked back at the rest of them and what they heard almost made their heart stop, “i love you hyung’s”

there was SO MUCH to unpack in that one statement when it came to you

first of all, you had called them all hyung’s, which you hadn't done until now. always opting to add -ssi at the end of their names

and maybe it was strange to be proud of that tile, but when it came to you, it showed that you really did trust them with anything and they knew how hard that was for you

then you said ‘i love you.’ it still didn’t really process in their heads until they had gotten you to your bed (you had fallen asleep during the car ride back) and they were all sitting around in the living room

“you guys heard that too, right?” hoseok murmured

then slowly yoongi smiled that gummy smile of his and everyone’s face’s did the same because you really had become special to them, even if you did come in late to the group

and oh if that didn’t trigger their protective side

they saw it as their personal mission to out you back together and build yourself up again because you were worth it and you did deserve to be here

they started with getting rid of electronics, well at least for you

they were going to try to separate you from the media for as long as they could because people were ruthless

they also made a point to start posting more solo videos of you on their youtube channel, so the audience would actually be able to see past your ‘foreign’ face and look at your real personality (they even started posting things without the companies approval but would never tell you that because you were already rebellious enough)

and their planned kinda worked, too

and even if you still weren't accepted by many, more and more of the fandom was accepting you everyday and that meant something

at least one of them would be with you at all times (which actually kinda got on your nerves sometimes but you knew they were trying to help and you wanted to change, to grow, to make it easier on them)

taehyung started giving you more and more of his clothes (which you loved sleeping in) and started to use you as his cuddle buddy more times than not because you were the “precious maknae that should be protected at all costs.” “but do i really need to be your body pillow, hyung? at this rate i think your the one who will kill me and then i’ll need protection from you.” “yah, go to sleep.” he would flick your forehead and then you would mutter ow under your breath but go to sleep anyway because you were actually pretty comfortable

or when seokjin would call you into the kitchen just to try his food and you would groan at having to get up from where you were but in reality you actually looked forward to it because he really was so good at cooking

and so it becomes kind of like a routine for everyone and they all take care of you in their own way and your quick to try and help them back, even if comes of across as a little weird and distant

like when you would always bring extra water bottles to rehearsal because you know hobi will dance the hardest and you would get worried that he might become dehydrated

or every other night you would bring water to jimin with a honey cough drop because those are his favorite and it helps to sooth his throat after a long day of training

you also make an effort to contribute to the songs. so you start tagging along with namjoon and yoongi when they go off to their studios because you are also interested in producing and you would like to learn someday and they are all to eager to show you how

and you actually make an effort to ask for help when you need it (which is kinda big for you) and jungkook is the one who helps more than not

they didn’t give you time to build your walls back up again and even though you often slip back into the mindset that you consonantly need to work for approval, they are there to tell you that you don’t need to do that because you already make them proud and that you already do work enough

you are enough. they see you and believe in you

and really, that’s all you needed, but it was a relief when you started to be widely accepted by the fans

but you’re here, you were enough

and although its not always good all time, and at times when you don’t feel like you belong, your hyung’s remind you that they are your family, and that no matter your face or where you come from, you will always belong with them

[end]

end note: holy cow, this was just a mess of emotions and i think i might have some sort of trauma i don’t know about because sad who?? apparently i know her very well. but i’m really happy with the ending even though everything in between is messy! anon if you’re reading this, thank you so much for this kind of prompt! it really got me to think differently and put me in a position where i had to really delve deep into negative and positive mental patterns and how its impacted based on how a person grows up

also I REALLY LOOKED UP IF JIN HAD A LICENSE AT THREE AM IN THE MORNING JUST TO WRITE THREE WORDS ABOUT IT and i just?? find that really funny for some reason?? i don’t know man, i need to get more sleep, so i apologize for any errors. i love ya’ll

~**~ masterlist

request something!

taglist: @boba-tea1206

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pars-ley · 4 years

Text

Sincerely, MINE

Pairing: Idol Taehyung x Female Fan Reader ft Jaebeom

Summary: Date night with Taehyung turns into dinner with some members of Got7 and some flirting from their leader, Jaebeom, to which your idol boyfriend doesn't take too kindly.

Genre: Idol! au / Reaction! au / Established relationship / Smut / One-shot

Rating: 18+ (Nsfw)

Warnings: Dom!Tae / Sub!Reader / Slight exhibitionism / Slight possessiveness / Unprotected sex (wrap it up guys) / Swearing

Word count: 2400

A/N: Beta read by @papillonsgf @unoriginal-username15432 and @wheresmymoniat you three are amazing and so helpful, thank you! Thank you to @yeojaa for making the break line as I am incapable of such simple things.

I’m posting this for the @btsholidaybingo One of my squares was ‘Kim Taehyung’.

If you want jealous Tae featuring a confident and suave Jaebeom then I hope you enjoy this.

“Hey, Taehyung!” You hear someone call, as you turn to see Mark Tuan from GOT7 walking quickly towards the two of you, a large smile stretching his mouth.

“Mark! How are you?” Taehyung asks, with his bright, boxy grin. The one that makes your insides clench.

“Good, man, it’s good to see you.” He replies, patting him on the shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “And who's this?” He turns his attention and his brilliant smile to you.

Taehyung practically beams, as his arm winds tightly around your waist, hugging you against his side. “This is my y/n.” He announces proudly.

“So nice to meet you, y/n. I’ve definitely heard a lot about you.” He takes your hand, his grip soft as he slowly shakes. “Why don’t the two of you join us? Will be good to catch up, Tae and to get to know you better, of course.” He grins wider, flashing his set of perfectly straight teeth.

Please, please, please. You look up at Tae with wide hopeful eyes and he can’t help but nod in agreement.

Mark leads you over to his table where BamBam gets up to greet you both. He's not shy and he pulls you instantly into a warm embrace, his words sweetly echoing Mark's statement of how nice it is to meet you.

That’s when you see him. Jaebeom. Long hair swept back behind his ears, an ethereal being if ever you saw one. He’s even more handsome in real life, they all are.

His calm demeanour precedes him as he sits casually in the corner, giving you a slight wave.

It takes all your power not to squeal and grin like an idiot.

BamBam indicates for you to slide along the leather seats into the booth, meaning you would be sitting next to him. “JB, this is y/n, Taehyung’s girl.” Bam introduces you, as you hesitantly, and rather awkwardly, shift yourself towards him until your thighs are almost touching.

“Hello.” He smiles politely and bows his head. Your whole face illuminates like the Las Vegas strip in response but your eyes drop shyly to your hands, placed tensely in your lap.

Everyone takes their seats and you end up neatly sandwiched in between Jaebeom and Bam, with Taehyung sitting opposite you.

“Can I just say, y/n is a huge fan of you guys.” Your boyfriend pipes up.

You feel the blush spread hot across your cheeks as Bam nudges you playfully in your side. “Ah, you like GOT7 more than BTS, huh?”

You laugh, feeling more relaxed by the minute. “BTS are number one for me, of course.”

“Ok, ok," he waves his hand nonchalantly, "but who’s your GOT7 bias?” Bam wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and you fight back another laugh.

“It’s Jaebeom.” You hear Tae’s voice say the words and you freeze, instantly feeling your face ablaze with embarrassment. Why? Why would he do that to me? The mischievous glint in his eye sparkles with amusement but is soon replaced with an apologetic grimace when you glare at him.

Bam taps JB’s shoulder. “Of course it is, it’s always my hyung.” He pouts but gives you a wink which sets your mind at ease that he isn't offended.

“Me?” Jaebum points to himself. “I am flattered.” He smiles coolly at you, eyes intense and watching you closely. He seems to be looking right into you, searching for your innermost kept secrets. You have to look away, feeling more bashful than ever under his consuming stare.

You all discuss what food and drink to get before Taehyung and Mark go up to order.

Leaning back in your chair feeling a little awkward and shy, when you feel Jaebeom put his arm along the back of your headrest. He turns his body towards you, leg up on the seat. “So, have you ever been to one of our shows?” He asks, raising a perfectly arched brow, his intense gaze burning right into you once again.

Suddenly, he doesn’t seem as reserved as you initially thought, confidence rolling off him in waves.

You shake your head. “Not yet. Hopefully soon.”

“Seriously, just let one of us know when you want to come, we’ll get you tickets and some good seats. You can even come backstage after, if you’d like and hangout.” He shrugs, as if he hadn't just offered you the chance of a lifetime.

Yes, please! Your mouth almost falls open. “T-that would be amazing! Thank you.”

A satisfied smile spreads across his mouth, pulling his lips into a beautiful curve. You’re unsure as to whether he is flirting with you or you are simply misinterpreting his kindness.

“How long have you been with Taehyung?” He questions.

“About 8 months, now.”

He nods slowly. “Still in the honeymoon stage then?”

You frown, not understanding the implication. “I’m sorry?”

He waves off the question. “Are you guys serious?”

Your mouth opens then closes, slightly gobsmacked at the line of questioning. "Yes."

"That's a shame." He winks at you. A movement so simple, but he makes it look so sexy and leaves your heart pounding in your ears at the implication.

As much as you would never cheat on Taehyung and are more than happy with him, this exchange has given you quite an ego boost.

Before you can even respond, Taehyung and Mark are back and you feel Jaebeom slowly remove his arm from behind you.

Thank god. You smile at Taehyung, feeling somewhat relieved he’s back, he returns it but it doesn't reach his eyes. His eyes flicker to Jaebeom and his jaw tenses’. Looks like this is going to be a fun conversation later.

As you’re saying your goodbyes, being pulled into a tight hug from Mark and then Bam, you feel the nerves spread through you like wildfire when it’s your turn to face Jaebeom.

He takes your hand, opting out of the friendly hug, to which you are somewhat relieved about. Only to bring your hand up to his mouth and gently press his lips to your fingertips, following it with a smirk as he watches your eyes widen in panic. A thrill runs through you at the feel of his lips on your skin but it’s pushed quickly away and replaced with alarm and anxiety.

What is he doing!?

Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, attacking your ribcage with brute force. Before meeting Taehyung, I would have yearned to have this kind of attention from Jaebeom, I would have jumped at the chance...quite literally. But, since Taehyung, there isn’t anyone else that could give me what he already does.

Your heart thrums wildly but not from want...from trepidation. Feeling Taehyung's burning gaze on the two of you makes your stomach churn.

Releasing your hand and stepping past you, he leans in to your ear and whispers, "It's been a pleasure to meet you.”

You gulp, feeling uncomfortable now at the exchange, no longer seeming like harmless flirting and more like a show just for Taehyung.

He leaves without so much as a backward glance.

The other two wave, looking slightly apologetic, leaving you and Tae alone.

A long, silent car journey home. The unease growing in the pit of your stomach.

As soon as the door to your apartment is shut, Tae turns to face you. “Enjoy yourself tonight?” His accusatory tone makes you frown, your annoyance alight in your chest, fire running through every vein.

“What are you talking about?” You slam your keys on the counter.

He scoffs. “Don’t give me that, I bet you were loving having your bias all over you like that.”

“At first, of course it was flattering, sure, but if you were actually paying attention to me, then you would have seen how uncomfortable I felt. It must have been written all over my face.”

He stops for a moment, clearly thinking back.

“Let me guess, you were too busy watching Jaebeom to notice?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

He looks down, away from you and walks over to the floor-to-ceiling window, staring down at the bustling streets below.

His reflection on the glass illuminates with the dark night sky as a backdrop.

Sighing, you close the distance between you and wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in his broad back. You can feel the tension rolling off him in waves, all his muscles tense under your touch.

“Watching him with you…” He starts, then lets out a deep breath. “I was trying so hard to hold it in. I didn’t know what to do. All I could do was watch, while it was like he wanted to claim you right in front of me.” His voice wobbles and his body shakes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” You step in front of him and pull his face down to look at you. “No one was making any claim on me. I’m yours, utterly, completely, hopelessly yours. No one else would stand a chance.”

You see the corner of his mouth twitch into a tiny smile. “Even your bias.”

“Even my bias.” You agree. "Although, I gotta say...I think Bam might have stolen that title.”

His mouth pulls up at the side in a smile, eyes still trained on the floor but relief relaxing his features.

You lift yourself onto your tiptoes and touch your lips to his. “You weren't worried, were you?”

He looks up, his stare fierce as he catches your teasing tone. “No.” He responds, taking a step towards you, causing you to take one back.

“Are you sure? It seemed like you were.” You continue, knowing exactly how to press the right buttons.

“Why would I be worried?” He takes another step, frowning and pressing your back up against the cold, hard glass of the window, his body flush to yours. “You’re mine.” He almost growls.

Your body responds to his domineering demeanour, a shiver vibrating through you, your underwear already slick to you.

He grabs your hands and pins them, by the wrists, above your head. “Say it.” He commands.

“I’m yours.” You whisper, your legs weak with anticipation.

You feel his hand travel up your skirt, lightly caressing your thigh, until he reaches your hot, throbbing crotch.

He groans when he feels the wet patch already soaking through the lace. “You want me?”

You nod.

“How do you want me? Tell me what you want.” He rubs light circles on your concealed clit.

You moan from the feeling of him touching you but also of him not touching you enough. “Fuck me.” You look up at him, your innocent eyes meeting his. “Fuck me against this window."

You see the heat flash in his eyes and he roughly pulls your panties down and starts unbuckling his belt. His hand comes back to your clit, running his fingers along your wet folds and feeling your entrance.

“I’m gonna stretch you open, baby.” He whispers, licking your arousal off his fingers.

You clench your legs together at the sight, desperate for some relief.

He pulls out his generous erection, his jeans still up but open.

You bite your lip as you look at him and his perfect dick that’s about to ruin you.

He grabs your leg and hooks it over his arm, then lines himself against your entryway. Slowly he pushes himself in and you can’t keep quiet as you feel yourself stretch over him, swallowing him inside you, greedily.

The noise he makes once he’s levelled in you is so sinful it has you clenching around him.

“You feel so good.” He says, eyes never leaving yours as he starts to move pushing your buttocks against the cold glass of the window.

His hand comes up to your face, cupping your jaw possessively and keeping you focused on him. He thrusts into you, slow and hard but controlled. He knows what you like and he’s showing you exactly that.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” He asks, eyes trained on your mouth.

You moan, “You, Taehyung.”

“Who can make you this wet?” He thrusts into you harder, hitting that perfect place each time.

“You, just you!” You clasp his broad shoulders, as you feel your orgasm building, your core tight and ready to spring.

“Can anyone else make you feel this good?” He pants.

Your sweet release is so close but you can’t give into it, not until he tells you. “No one.” You whisper, hardly able to focus on anything but the pressure of your impending orgasm.

Your mind swirls, with his words, his movements and the idea that people in the buildings across from you could see your intimate tangle unfold, it all makes your core ache with pure desperation and raw lust.

“Would JB be able to make you this wet?” He asks through gritted teeth.

You shake your head, eyes rolling from the thrill. His hard dick moves with such lavish purposely, your body shudders against him.

“Say it.” He barks, breathing hard and fast.

He must be close, please let him be close, I can’t hold off for much longer.

“N-no, he wouldn’t!” You call out. “God, Taehyung, please.”

“What, baby?”

“Please, let me cum.” You beg, eyes pleading frantic and fierce.

He smirks, then presses his lips against yours, so tender and soft in comparison to the painful grip on your wrists he still has.

Oh my god, I’m gonna cum, it all feels too good.

“Cum for me.” He whispers, sending new chills cascading down your spine. He thrusts hard into you one more time as you fall apart, everything unravelling as your walls clench around him, milking him to orgasm too. His warm seed spilling into you, filling you completely.

Your mind and body are full of him as you’re unable to focus on anything but the sounds of his pleasure and the bliss he’s giving you. You don’t want it to end.

“Fuck, y/n.” He grinds into you, the feeling prolonging the spasms of pleasure.

As the pulses of your climax die down, he releases your leg and pulls you away from the window but still has you pressed firmly against him.

“No one else.” You reutter to him as his forehead meets yours tenderly.

Smirking, he raises an eyebrow. “Oh baby, we’re not done yet. I’m gonna have you calling my name all night, to make sure you know exactly who you belong to.”

137 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

A Yandere!Toshinori/OC piece for the very lovely @evaesis, featuring her character, Kit, and a *nasty* case of Stockholm Syndrome, even if it presents itself rather sweetly. It’s just nice to write some consensual smut for once, honestly.

Word Count: 3.0k

TW: NSFW, A/B/O Dynamics, Knotting, Delusional Mindsets, Mentions of Kidnapping and Implied Stolkholm Syndrome.

Kit liked to think it was her natural sense of curiosity.

She didn’t like Toshinori, that much should’ve been common sense. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him, not after spending so much time as his coworker, his confidant, his friend, but she refused to let herself enjoy his company, too. He’d kidnapped her, for fuck’s sake, taken her away from the life she loved, slapped quick-canceling cuffs around her wrists just strong enough to block the more problematic parts of her quirk, and locked her inside of a fortress masquerading as an idyllic, woodsy mansion, too far from the nearest neighbor to be anything but a prison, albeit a comfortable one. When pressed, his only explanation had been his fading power, the last of which was long-gone, by now. She’d pushed him for something more substantial, something logical, but the only thing Kit had to show for it was an unreasonable sense of guilt and a slew of consolation gifts, the latter only working to fuel the former.

She had to resent Toshinori. She needed to resent Toshinori.

What kind of person was she, if she couldn’t even hate her kidnapper?

That was why curiosity had to be the only reason behind her current position - laying on her stomach on the floor of Toshinor’s living room, a computer opened and poised less than an arm’s length away, her eyes never wandering from the screen. It was a modified laptop, made so she could search and browse whatever she wanted, but couldn’t put anything of her own out into it. The kind captured criminals would be given for good behavior. Still, it worked well enough for her intents, the small monitor displaying the shakey, blurry image of All Might in his prime, his brightly colored costume ripped to shreds and something she couldn’t quite make out embedded in his side. A knife, she guessed, or a piece of broken glass. Anything was possible, in the chaos of a real fight.

It was an older video, one taken only a few years after his debut, but Kit couldn’t seem to drag her attention away, not while Toshinori wasn’t home and she had so little to do. She’d seen it before, she must’ve. Everyone had. Everyone knew Toshinori was an idol, a Hero, one who took down all the big, dangerous bad guys less dedicated Pros couldn’t seem to topple. Distantly, she remembered what it’d been like to fight with him, beside Toshinori rather than against him. She’d always been one of the more nervous Heroes, seemingly the only one who could never beat that sense of terror, constant peril, dread. She did her best to be brave, but she wasn’t brave - she wasn’t supposed to be brave. She didn’t have to be. She just had to be heroic.

He was different, though.

Anyone who’d ever been in the same room as him could feel it. He was brave, and valiant and strong, strong enough to pick up the slack whenever she couldn’t dodge a piece of falling debris or reach a civilian in time. She appreciated him, she wasn’t afraid to admit that to herself. He was a good man, beneath all the paranoia and insecurity. He was a Hero.

A protector.

The title stirred something inside her, below her rational disposition and within her omega instincts, giving a voice to a part of her she’d always done her best to suppress. The desire to be protected and the engrained, hereditary guilt that came with rejecting that protection when it’s offered, especially by an alpha, an apex, at that. It wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to, but she couldn’t seem to fight it off, this time, not as the video feed in front of her refocused, All Might and his nameless foe coming into view. Her tails bristled, winding around each other and flicking aimlessly, and her ears flattening against her scalp, but she relaxed as the enemy was quickly subdued, their powers no challenge for Toshinori’s abilities. She wasn’t sure why she’d been worried, no threat was a challenge to him, not in his prime.

He’d retired, though, hadn’t he? She knew he had, she’d watched the fight live. That’d been the first time Kit hugged him, too relieved to do anything but wrap her arms around him and cry silently, if only because he’d come so close to failing, to not being there for her. How long had she’d been nice to him after that? A week, two? How quickly had she’d gone back to being awful, to trying to escape and fighting and hurting him, even if all Toshinori ever did was frown and kiss the top of her head and bandage the wound she’d manage to give herself while attempt to scale the seamless steel wall that surrounded the property. It was a miracle he hadn’t given up on her already, honestly. Leave her behind and chosen an omega who was grateful to have him, an omega who didn’t fight and run and snarl at every opportunity. Crime levels were rising outside, too, villains instilled with a new confidence now that All Might was no longer the one sent to deal with them.

Kit’d never fought in a world without All Might, before. Most Heroes hadn’t.

She didn’t want to fight with a world without All Might.

She pushed herself up, abruptly, gritting her teeth and slamming her laptop shut with so much force, she worried she’d cracked the screen. It took her more pacing than she’d like to admit before she could settle herself, calm her nerves and regain her composure. There was nothing to worry about - she knew what she had to do. If Toshinori would still have her, at least.

He was away, now, tending to one of UA’s scandals and smoothing over the concerns his absence had caused. He’d be back in three days. Four, if she was lucky.

Kit picked up her computer with a sigh, already forming a list in her mind. She had some shopping to do, if she really wanted to earn his forgiveness.

She hadn’t expected it to feel this warm.

Kit was an omega, she knew that, she wasn’t naive. This wasn’t her first heat, and she doubted it would be her last, but she’d spent so long under so much stress, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually been affected by her cycle. There were vague memories of teenage hormones, talks of suppressants with doctors who were trying very hard not to blush, but she’d forgotten how hard it was to combat on her own, how sticky the air seemed to turn, how impossible it became to think.

Toshinori on his way - she knew he was. He was already home, the last press conference he was expected to attend having ended earlier that day, but despite his oncoming arrival, she couldn’t seem to sit still, to wait. Her thighs kept clenching, her legs beginning to ache where they were tucked underneath her, mussing up the bed she’d worked so hard to arrange. She’d tried keeping her hands at her sides, but they seemed to want to be anywhere else, fiddling with her hair or tugging at the fingers or crossing over her stomach, where a deep, embedded emptiness had formed, growing more unignorable with each passing second. Her skin was hot to the touch, but she wanted something even warmer to cling to, to rub against and leave her scent on. Her neck throbbed, making her aware of its blankness, how ashamed she should feel for not finding a reason to mar it. She wanted to be held, she wanted to be bitten, she wanted to be bre--

Something pulled her from her thoughts, a smell, a scent. Masculine and husky, so thick she could practically taste it in the air, the scent of an alpha who’d caught an omega in heat. The sound of the bedroom door swinging open was almost secondary, Toshinori’s entrance preceded by something much more enrapturing. Her mind went black, instinct threatening to take over, but she shook it off, focusing instead on Toshinori, or rather, the open-mouthed expression of shock slowly spreading across his features.

She knew what he saw. She hadn’t tried to be subtle, wanting her intentions to come across as blatantly as possible. A smirk pulled at the corners of her lips as she imagined how she must’ve looked, kneeling in front of him, head bowed and dressed head-to-toe in lace, the fabric sheer and thin, nearly translucent everywhere it wasn’t necessary. She’d tried to pick the most tasteful style she could, a respectful baby-doll in a shade of white bright enough to rival the tails winding around each other behind her back. Most importantly, the set was completed by a dainty, decorative collar around her neck, just big enough to draw attention to her mating mark, or lack thereof, rather.

Kit couldn’t help but laugh, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and pushing herself up. Toshinori didn’t move, didn’t speak, stuttering something unintelligible as Kit approached. He was a head taller than her, but Kit wasn’t fazed, wrapping his tie around his first and jerking him down to her height, only letting go to nuzzle against the crook of his neck, her arms soon finding their way to his shoulders. She purred, softly, the sound foreign, even to her. She’d never really tried. She’d never had a mate to purr to.

But, she had a mate, now. And like hell she was going to start resisting her instincts when she’d already come so far.

Toshinori was the first one to break the silence, coming out of his stupor and taking her by the biceps. She would’ve been surprised, if she wasn’t already so far lost in that warm, inviting haze. “This is… This is new,” He stammered, for lack of a better introduction. “Love, did something happen? This isn’t like you.”

“It isn’t,” She agreed, melting into Toshinori. “That’s the problem, right? I was so mean, and so selfish, I couldn’t think about anyone but myself. I thought you were being irrational, but I…” She trailed off, the words still awkward and stiff on her tongue. Luckily, confessions came easily when her lips were pressed against his skin. “I was wrong. I’m sorry about all those awful things I said.” She sighed, silently, moving in closer, seeking more of the warmth under his skin, only glancing towards his expression once she was settled. He made no attempt to hide his skepticism, a slight frown pulling at the corners of his lips. He didn’t quite believe her, not yet. She tried to sound more convincing, although her voice still found a way to tremble. “I’d like to make it up to you, if you’d let me.”

Toshinori opened his mouth, but he didn’t get the chance to speak. Before he could get a word out, something in Kit’s chest pounded, the reverberation running down her spine and shooting straight into her unprepared, unfilled core. She doubled over before she could stop herself, digging her nails into the jacket of his suit and letting out something between a cry and a moan, whatever discomfort she felt multiplying. Again, he moved to express his concern, but she stopped him. “Toshi-” One hand rose to the faux-collar, all-but tearing at the thin fabric. She didn’t want anything in her way, in his way. “Alpha.”

She’d barely finished when what was left of Toshinori’s resolve snapped, dissolved, disappeared. She yelped as an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her off her feet and throwing her onto the bed behind them, leaving her to squirm and writhe, each movement leaving her aware of the fresh slick staining her thighs, the white silk of her panties quickly turning translucent. Meanwhile, Toshinori pulled wildly at his suit, disregarding buttons and knots in favor of ripping at whatever wouldn’t come undone quickly enough. Kit tried to move back, to find something to steady herself with, but Toshinori was faster, standing in front of her one moment and on top of her the next, a hand around her neck, ready to squeeze at the slightest hint of resistance.

“What a daring omega, dressing up like a whore and tempting your alpha,” He muttered, his voice low, rough, almost verging on aggressive. Kit’s lips parted, but all she managed to release was a strangled whine as Toshinori’s free hand ghosted over her chest, brushing against her side before finding its target, cupping her cunt and dragging another pained sound from her throat. A finger traced the length of her covered slit teasingly, what was left of her self-control fading as the urge to be filled by something, anything replaced it. She didn’t want to think, grinding against the pitiful sensation and seeking out any friction she could get, her pride be damned. Toshinori only chuckled, pressing a thumb against her clit and reveling at how quickly her breath hitched in her throat. “How long have you been planning this? That outfit must’ve taken quite a bit of time to find… unless someone’s had this little number in mind since I brought her home.”

“N-No!” The denial was weak, only spurring Toshinori on, her panties soon around her knees, allowing Kit to kick them away. The babydoll didn’t last much longer, soon ripped down the middle and shoved away as his focus shifted, falling towards her chest. In the blink of an eye, a hickey was being sucked into the top of her breast, then its twin to match. His mouth closed around her nipple, suckling and licking until the peak was sensitive and pebbled, but Kit was impatient, her sex swollen and soaked and screaming for attention. Swiftly, she entangled her fingers in his hair, tugging just hard enough to get his attention. “It hurts,” She mumbled, voice barely loud enough for him to hear. As if on cue, something inside of her began to ache, the sensation nearly bringing tears to her eyes. “I want it, Toshi’, I want you. I can’t wait any longer.”

He paused, for a moment, going still. “Darling, I haven’t even--”

“Please.” She was whining, now, pleading with him, even if her eyes were shut as tightly as they could’ve been. “I need to be mated, alpha.

That was all it took. She heard a belt unbuckling, the rustle of fabric, and just like that, she got what she wanted, what she’d beg for. A thick cockhead dragged across her entrance, but that was all the warning she got before he was pushing inside her, Kit’s cunt providing as little resistance as it possibly could. He groaned as he sunk, proceeding slowly and letting her adjust, but his self-restraint could only last so long. By the time he was hilted, Toshinori was growling into her neck, searching for something he couldn’t quite reach. Something he wasn’t going to stop looking for until he found.

Kit hardly had time to whimper before he was pulling out, a hand latching onto the base of her tails and wrenching her over, barely giving her time to bend her knees before she was being dropped, forced to support herself as Toshinori slotted himself against her back. He’d lost his delicacy, his caring touch, opting instead to give in to his own instincts, driving his cock into the deepest parts of her and abusing any spot that made her keep and cry and bury her face in the bedsheets. Her yearning was overwhelmed, forced into submission by pleasure, fulfillment. Just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, something sharp and ruthless embedded itself in her neck, her scent gland, no doubt leaving a string of bruises and puncture marks in its wake.

A mating mark.

Her mating mark.

Instantly, every sensation became white-hot electricity, frying her nerves and exploiting them, turning each touch, each thurst into something euphoric. Her body wrapped around his with a religious devotion, her back arching and moans forcing themselves through her lips unabashedly. Toshinori was no better, any sounds he might’ve made muffled by how snuggly his face was pressed into her shoulder, but the way his uneven pace stuttered and sped up was unignorable, a tell-tale sign to his own reaction. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” He panted, more for himself than for her. “My beautiful omega, my perfect omega. My omega.”

“Alpha…” She mewled, her end approaching too quickly, too suddenly. Without warning, she was clenching around him, the world turning white and her mind going blank as she bucked against his hips, craving anything she could get that would prolong her state of elation. She didn’t have to worry, though. Toshinori steadied himself on the small of her back, taking in a ragged breath before shuddering, forcing something much bigger through her tight entrance. It took her a moment to comprehend what the swell testing the walls of her cunt was, but the realization wasn’t an unpleasant one, not when she figured out what exactly was filling her to the brim.

His knot.

All Might’s knot.

He called out incoherently as he came, his seed claiming her inside and out, painting her walls and seeping out around his cock, dripping over her thighs. Between attempting to catch her breath and Toshinori’s gentle, comforting ministrations, everything else seemed to fade into the background, Kit simply laying bad and letting big, careful hands position her amongst an array of pillows and blankets. She just sought his warm, her arms wrapping around his torso and refusing to let go. She felt him comb through her hair, but he was smiling when she glanced up blearily, the extent of her exhaustion suddenly dawning on her. “My mate,” He whispered, bending down to peck at her lips between words. “My wonderful, beautiful mate. Sleep, sweetheart. Don’t keep yourself awake.”

She didn’t argue, only nodding and burrowing into his chest, listening to his heartbeat as she began to fade out of consciousness.

She’d never felt more protected.

146 notes · View notes

bthenoise · 3 years

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Q&A: Tyler Posey Talks New Travis Barker-Featured, John Feldmann-Produced Solo Single “Shut Up”

Today officially marks the start of a brand new era for actor and musician Tyler Posey. After years spent in various bands, the outgoing singer/songwriter is officially stepping out on his own to showcase his distinct brand of pop-punk-inspired music.

Front and center for the very first time, Posey is treating listeners to his bold new single “Shut Up” featuring alt-indie artist phem and none other than blink-182′s Travis Barker.

Discussing the new John Feldmann-produced track, Posey said, “From start to finish, this song really did feel like something special. I wrote the verses on a trip in an RV with my dogs and my friend and felt like it was progressing so naturally in a perfect way.”

He added, “I took those bones to John Feldmann and phem and when she went into the vocal booth to record her vocals, I was so stoked. I had been wanting her on a track but was too nervous to ask. It was an emotional session and then finally to get Travis to play drums on it is just literally a dream come true. I couldn’t be happier with the outcome.”

Diving further into the moving new song, the passionate performer spoke with The Noise all about working with an idol like Barker plus what he thinks the future of pop-punk will look like. To see what Posey had to say, be sure to look below. Afterward, make sure to stream “Shut Up” here.

youtube

How hard was it to keep it a secret that you made a song with Travis Barker?

TYLER POSEY: Fuck man, I mean, I've got blink-182 tattoos, they've been my favorite band since I was a kid and I've got posters of them on my wall that I'm looking at right now. It's such a big deal for me. But like, I think in some way, it was easier to keep it private because it's one of those things that you want to keep sacred. But at the same time, I’m super fucking stoked to release it. So it's like, it hasn't been that hard to keep it a secret because I'm just relishing in the fact that I got to play with him before anyone else knew. It's just so fuckin’ cool.

How did the collaboration come together? Guessing John Feldmann had something to do with it?

Yeah, exactly. I've always been piquing his interest in getting like my favorite people to collab with us. You know, I'm like, “Hey? What is Mark Hoppus doing today?’ if I’m ever at the studio with him. So this kind of came about like that. I was like, “What’s the possibility of Travis getting on the track?”

And [Jonh's] like, “Maybe the next album” because for some reason he thought sense this album I'm debuting just my name and kind of going solo, he thought [we should] keep the focus on that. But then, he hit me up one day after we recorded “Shut Up” and he FaceTimed me and he was in the studio with Travis. He's like, “Hey, so you want Travis to play on a song?” I was like “What!? Yeah, of course but I thought you said no.” [laughs]

So Travis was like right there and he's like, “What's up, dude?” And I was like, “Hey man! Yeah, so ‘shut up.’ If you dig that track then please I would love for you to feature on it.” And he loved it so that's how it started, kind of unconventional.

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Had you met Travis prior to this?

I have, yeah. So Feldy lets me fill in on bass for Goldfinger whenever Mike Herrera can't -- which is like the coolest thing to put on my resume, like I’m the fill-in bassist for Goldfinger. So, [John] has this Christmas party (or he used to before COVID) and he does it at his house and he has this huge fucking Christmas party where Goldfinger and all these other bands usually play and he sets up a stage. And one year, Travis was playing drums [for Goldfinger] and there's this one moment in “Superman” where it's just bass and drums and I like locked eyes with him for as long as I could before he cracked a smile [laughs]. So yeah, we’ve met a couple times before. He was super stoked to be a part of this song and he's just killing it with collabs lately so I was just honored that he wanted to work with me.

Speaking of Travis’ collabs, are you a fan of some of his recent crossover stuff with artists like Machine Gun Kelly and Trippie Redd?

Yeah, absolutely dude. Like, I grew up in the punk scene so, for some reason, when I was a punk kid going to Warped Tour all the time I was really headstrong about maintaining being “punk” and I didn't listen to anything outside of the genre. I was like, “Fuck everything else! I’m punk!” So it kind of took a little while to kind of break that. But that was like years ago so I love what [Travis] is doing with them. I think it's fucking cool too that it's putting -- so like I've been in the punk scene forever and I've always played punk music, no matter what I write, it just comes out punk -- so it's cool that pop-punk is now making a resurgence with Barker and Machine Gun Kelly and Trippie and all these other people. I think it's setting a cool precedence for punk bands that have been really trying to make it for years. So hopefully that happens.

It’ll be interesting to see what the future holds for pop-punk music thanks to people like Travis Barker and yourself who have a big platform and use it to help bring pop-punk music to a wider audience.

Yeah, dude. That's kind of how I met and got involved with all these punk bands. I was kind of vocal about them on Twitter like a long time ago, when I used to use Twitter a lot. I would just be listening to punk music and would just post a picture of it 'cause I wanted the kids to know about it so that's kind of how my involvement got started. Like State Champs hit me up and I got in good with them and rode with them on Warped Tour. Then I met Knuckle Puck and Neck Deep and just all these huge punk bands kind of brought me into the world and then it was kind of an easy transition once I started releasing my own shit. So I'm super thankful that they welcomed me with open arms and that I am, you know, part of this like, showing people the way of the punk [laughs].

So going back to “Shut Up,” how would you say this song differs from your previous projects like PVMNTS and Five North?

I think with every album, every artist says “we try to evolve” and for me it's just always been this progression. It hasn't really been anything that I've been trying to have happen, it’s just sort of happened naturally. So I think anything that I put out will always have that element of it sounding a little bit different, a little more mature [and] grown up. So I really like the song, it's polished. I love that phem is a part of it. I think it adds this kind of dynamic that I used to think my music writing was missing lately. I just think that it's more mature. Like I said, I can't really step out of like pop-punk world 'cause it's in my blood, that’s how I write. So it's not too different, it's just a more sort of mature vibe than I guess I was doing before. But like, with my last band Five North with Feldy, we really tried to experiment and kind of push the envelope a little bit. So we had like weird synth sounds but it all kind of worked because we always kept it like this pop-punk melodic sort of drive with driving verses and vocals. So it's kind of like the same vibe but just, you know, more mature. Long story short [laughs].

youtube

Is it nerve wracking for you to to put your name strictly on things now as a solo artist as opposed to having a band?

No, I don't think so. I think I've always sort of viewed myself as a solo songwriter. It's just, like, growing up in the punk scene, you know, you always had a band name and for the longest time I was part of bands that everybody, sort of, had an opinion and we all would song-write. But for what I've been doing lately, it's just been me so it felt right. It's more of like an experiment at this point. You know, I don't know how it's gonna be received, but it kind of frees me up to be a little bit more creative artistically. Whether it's writing, filming something. I just feel like it's the right move.

This song seems to makes sense as a Tyler Posey solo song considering how personal and open it is. Was it challenging for you to be that candid writing these lyrics?

No, no it wasn't. I've always viewed music as a kind of therapy. You know, it's just sort of been my outlet. As much as fuckin’ everybody says that, it holds true. So I've never really held back when it comes to writing music. Like, I've gone through a bunch of shit. My mom died like six years ago so I've written about that a bunch of times. So I've never really been one to struggle being open when it comes to writing lyrics. But this one, this one definitely is a heavy song. Like I got sober during the pandemic because I was just abusing a little bit too much and going too heavy and couldn't seem to get out of this cycle. So I was sober for a while, but like, I was just kind of dealing with an ex and kind of using that to lean on as sort of a new drug. So it's kind of what the song is about. But yeah, it's just coming together at a really vulnerable time in my life but it’s never really been too hard to be that open. I think that people deserve to know that everyone is going through the same shit that they're going through -- even if it's just one person.

For people who can relate to this song, is there any advice you can offer to them? Maybe how you felt when you were writing it?

Fuck [laughs]. My advice for somebody who's listening to this song – I don’t know dude. Life is fucking weird. Sometimes you try to do the things that you think are going to lead you to the right path but it feels like it's not. So I think that everything happens for a reason, as corny as that it. Like, if there’s some bad shit that happens, the reason is [because] you learn from it. So I think that's kind of the model for this song. Whether it's good or bad, you're gonna learn something from it and you're hopefully going to grow. It's just up to you if you want to grow from it.

That’s a great way to put it. So lastly, not giving away too much, should fans be expecting more solo music from you moving forward?

Yeah, absolutely! So this is just a sneak peek. I'm going to be releasing two EPs. We were going to do a full album but we just split the album in half and we're gonna do two EPs. The first one is called DRUGS and is all about my experience becoming sober, why I got sober and the shit that happens during that. Then the next EP, they're both going to be 7 tracks, I'm gonna release it later on in the year. So there's gonna be a bunch of shit coming out. This is kind of like the new course of action for releasing music for me, it's all going to be under my name.

That’s exciting! Guess there really isn’t much else to do during a pandemic so it makes sense to write and release a bunch of music.

Yeah dude, exactly. So I'm going to try and get some visual content out too. Start doing some videos, I’ll be filming the music video for “Shut Up” soon. So just going to keep on that course.

#Tyler Posey #John Feldmann #Travis Barker #Phem #Shut Up #Big Noise #Five North

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filia-secunda · 4 years

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Notes from listening to the Zephyrus EP by the Oh Hellos

RIO GRANDE beginning instrumental sounds like "Hieroglyphs" "Somewhere south of here" - Mexico but also the general "global south" Bible references: Moses, faith the size of a mustard seed. Weren't there a lot of Old Testament passages that compared wisdom, or Israel, to a vineyard? (They can't be referencing the Last Supper.) Of course the camel thinks the needle's eye will be roomy and easy to go through. Does the "cable" mean anything Scriptural? the shout at 1:07, though quieted, sounds genuinely aggressive or pained "A seed of an idea, like mustard greens, like newborn fingers, stretched up and reached through the hardest part of me." An idea embodied in smallness/openness/vulnerability, like the Infant Jesus or Moses or the rabbit on the Zephyrus cover, will turn a heart sooner than an idea that incarnates as something violent/miilitant. "Tinfoil idols" jarred me at first because I'm still used to thinking of conspiracy theories as belittled minority ideas with no societal power and an anti-establishment bent. But with a US President suddenly promoting so many, maybe they are "established" enough to be called idols now. "Our pre-fab Mount Olympus / divided by the thousands" - YESS GO OFF. Our government is decided for us before we ever go to vote (you should still vote though, because maybe the mountain can be moved), capitalist industry has locked the poor around the world into pre-fabricated poverty, and I love to see a folk song fight it. I caught a whiff of the Malvina Reynolds or Woodie Guthrie spirit from this line. HOLDING ON WHERE I AM ABLE old-time-sounding fiddle gonna make me cry

THESEUS referencing the hymn "When peace like a river attendeth my way" "The slow trickling thaw that sets the banks in half / The sweet melody it makes when the canyons crack" - these lines show water as a force of good destruction like in New River, but I mostly just wanted to quote them because they're the most mellifluous stuff I've heard in a big week. "No single-use Ark to discard in an instant / Like Theseus's ship, we'll fix the busted bits / Till it's both nothing like and everything it's always been." I guess maybe the Heaths *do* consider themselves still Christian. They've replaced all the old planks of their Christianity - pruned all the feathers like leaves from a vine - but they do consider the replacement to be still Christianity, and claim we have to change it if we don't plan to discard it. "I want to mend what I've got instead of throwing away." Hm. "It's gonna hurt like hell to become well" - Soap before Soap! ZEPHYRUS Contrasting the first and last verses - wholeness not found in looking at the sky, but growing things from the ground? (Top-down vs. grassroots organization?) I really do not understand the next couple verses, but they're phrased extremely beautifully. "I want to spin something out of nothing / lead to gold" - alchemy but also writing with pencil-lead! I'm in love with the casual femininity of verse 6 - "I wanna help mother up an orchard / daughter phoenix rise" The gentleness of this song, and the joy the singer takes in giving life - here comes the spring! "Break the bonds I've been holding onto" - considering Soap, this is probably something about chemistry. I wouldn't have thought of this myself, but Genius Lyrics says the last verse is about death - specifically the part of the life cycle where your body (if buried) fertilizes the ground around you, like in Boreas - "let my body be a darker soil." I'm not sure I agree yet but am considering. MURMURATIONS Never noticed the laughter at the end before. No other substantial observations though.

SOAP Others have already pointed out most of the things I've noticed in this song. How do they make phrases like "molecular rift you can't fix" so flowing and fun to say? The two verses about softness, not toughness, being what's necessary for growth - connected with how the EPs' covers depict progressively softer animals? A cicada is hard-shelled and alien, a goose is at least a vertebrate but not a very relatable one, a bear is a soft mammal but big and dangerous, but a rabbit basically embodies and inspires gentleness.

Rounds

An epilogue kinda thing where they break the fourth wall to talk about the preceding songs. To say, "Wait, I'm still speaking? Well I'm gonna take a break," to apologize for not speaking as well as other "prophets," and to hope that their words lead to some good effect. It's a sweet, humble goodbye, like the end of a small friendly concert.

"I'll go on and on and on" (Boreas), "echoing hymn" (Passerine but with different connotations) "around again" (Torches, Hieroglyphs), "we start where I end" (Boreas again).

"Be the sun as my witness / Better prophets could pen / A thousand words for every chord / I ever could begin. / May their carbon given / Be an echoing hymn / That goes on and on and on again / So long as I live" - pencil-graphite is a form of carbon, so I think they're rephrasing the "lead into gold" line of Zephyrus, but they're also talking about the carbon we're made of ("we are matter and it matters"). Some of these "prophets" write, but others just live out/embody their own messages and use their own hands to mend what's broken around them. They let their bodies breathe life into the corners, be a darker soil, and water deep to the roots of something greener.

This whole EP is very Incarnational actually

#the oh hellos #zephyrus #ambiguously Christian folk music with synthesizers #sorry for inconsistent formatting!

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blackswaneuroparedux · 4 years

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Anonymous asked: As a staunch royalist I would be interested to hear your views about Prince Harry and Meghan Markle deciding to quit the British royal family. Did they do the right thing or are they just being selfish and ‘woke’? Does this ‘Megxit’ the British royal family is in crisis and its future looks bleak by this act of betrayal to the Queen?

Short answer:

I have been avoiding answering this question precisely because I became tired of hearing about it around the family dinner table or with friends when I visited England recently or now with French friends here in Paris who can’t fathom what is going on. But too many have asked about this in my blog inbox.

I don’t mean to sound so dismissive but to me it’s just a passing storm in a tea cup rather than some cataclysmic crisis of the British monarchy. Everyone should stop take a deep breath.

After the joint press statement by Prince Harry and the Duchess of Sussex statement came out on 8 January 2020 it set in motion the usual hilarious pastiche of Cold War Kremlinology by the British press. So at any one time you had sensationalist and sanctimonious headlines such as the fury of the palace press knew no bounds. How dare they? The Queen humiliated. The palace insulted. And so on and so on.

Every newspaper editor knows there is a yawning gulf between the “public interest” and what interests the public. By any standards, Harry and Meghan have become huge celebrities. They were idolised, their charities blessed, their presence craved. Unfortunately such is human nature, the public invest something of themselves in their heroes. They see in their idols a reflection of their own fantasies and delights, hopes and fears. When they witness celebrities traumatised it can be unsettling, as the death of Princess Diana vividly showed. People cried in the street.

As Harry knew from his mother’s tragic experience, all this is par for the royal course. The British newspapers - or rather those peddling in royal tittle tattle such as the Sun, Mirror, and the Daily Mail - have a habit of erecting pedestals one minute and then the next minute they enjoy destroying the icon in the name of the public interest. Andrew’s former wife, Sarah Ferguson, was appallingly treated. So at times were Princess Anne, and Prince Edward’s wife, Sophie. Press attention should be water off the royal duck’s back. Prince Philip’s advice was reportedly: “Don’t read the bloody papers.”

While Harry was brought up surrounded by the furies of the celebrity media, Meghan’s career was the opposite. In her profession as a known actor (albeit a middling TV actor at that), image is an artifice, daily crafted and laundered by publicists.

This does not work with British royalty, which comes with its own carefully minted image attached. Its rituals are those of mind-numbing deference. It has no accountability. The only mirror it has is the press. The tabloids are the price that must be paid for adulation. They honour no discretion and have no sense of fairness. The press is a memento mori, whispering into the victor’s ear that he – or she – is only mortal. And gosh do they take that role on with sanctimonious glee.

To be daily compared to the Duchess of Cambridge, from an utterly different social background, must have been intolerable for Meghan: the dress comparisons, the stuffiness of the court, its hyper-caution and obsession with precedence and procedure, added to the impossibility of contact with ordinary people. As a self-made millionaire already perhaps she wanted to be more than a mere civil servant in a tiara. Perhaps it proved too much but who really knows? But then I don’t know what else she expected when she decided to marry into the British royal family.

Similarly one can only speculate how much it was really Prince Harry who wanted to drop out riding on the royal carousel as he has been since birth. Regardless of who he married perhaps this was always the plan. His loathing of the British press and paparazzi is well known - he still blames them for his mother’s tragic death in Paris. It’s well known the paparazzi have tried to catch him out in manufactured scandals as he grew up. He has refreshingly come clean and has talked about how he still goes to therapy over his mother’s death. It’s no wonder he would ever subject a future wife and especially a child to the level of press intrusion that he had endured.

Prince Harry is nobody’s fool. I won’t say a bad word about him because - unlike previous and present royals with the exception of his grandfather, Prince Philip, who did active naval service during the Second World War and his uncle Prince Andrew, who as a naval officer flew Sea King helicopters during the Falklands War - he didn’t play the ceremonial toy soldier. After Eton he worked his arse off to get through Sandhurst and got commissioned with the Blues and Royals regiment. Upon the outbreak of war in Iraq, he was alleged to have said around 2006, “There's no way I'm going to put myself through Sandhurst and then sit on my arse back home while my boys are out fighting for their country.”

As it was the military chiefs got cold feet and pulled him out. But he did see active service with the British forces in Afghanistan with two tours. By all accounts he acquitted himself very well as a Forward Air Controller in Helmand Province and later as a co-pilot and gunner on Apache helicopters. He was widely respected and accepted by rank and file because he was down to earth and never asked for special treatment. He wasn’t a typical ‘Rupert’ - a squaddie’s nickname given to British army officers who typically came from privileged aristocratic backgrounds but were also ‘nice but dim witted’.

Overall I sympathise that the Sussexes’ predicament was clearly desperate, and it is perhaps to their credit that they have brought it to a head early and not let it drag on. I feel they are sincere in their reasons to ’step back’ from the royal family and frenzied media circus around it. The fact they want to pay their own way and pay back any outstanding sums back to the royal household is perhaps a sign of that sincerity.

Instead some sections of the British press rolled out the tired old trope of the parallels between the Duke of Sussex and his great-great uncle, the Duke of Windsor, are overwhelming. Once again, a dashing, sporting, ex-military prince leaves royal life for the love of an American divorcée. This is exactly the opposite of what Edward and Mrs Wallace Simpson did when they bit the hand that fed them. They took money to support their lavish lifestyle in exile from the Queen and all the while took every opportunity to snark the fledgling young Queen from their own alternative royal court in Paris. Harry no doubt loves his grandmother and his family and would try not sully the Windsor name.

Where I would be critical a little is in their handling of it which appears naive at best and inept at worst. I suspect - since verified - that having a transatlantic split of publicists, and in addition didn’t understand the full import of how this would play out, would inevitably drop the ball. But I would extend a finger of blame to the palace courtiers who were involved in their own games of intrigue with a whispering campaign to selected journalists of the press. Indeed multiple newspapers, including the Daily Telegraph in the UK, reported that the queen was “disappointed” with the surprise announcement, and had asked the Sussexes to hold off on issuing a public statement. When The gossip mongering Sun newspaper published a front-page story that the couple was contemplating a move to Canada, the Sussexes pushed the button on their statement.

I do think the Sussexes and their advisors were fooling themselves into thinking that they could have their cake and eat it - in other words keep the royal titles but cut back on the public and ceremonial duties. The blunt truth is if you want to stay on the books, you do so by the leave of the firm and its boss i.e. The Queen. The contract is for life. If not, you resign. There is no half in and half out. This seems to have been the gist of the family only summit at Sandringham in January 2020, with media attention worthy of the Treaty of Versailles.

I am frankly surprised how worked up people are about this. Cut out the white noise and the picture is more prosaic.

The first point is that when all is said and done, none of this drama really matters. Politically, constitutionally, it is an irrelevance. Harry, at number six, is not seriously in line to the throne. The British monarchy has long shown itself immune to crisis; indeed I wonder sometimes if it welcomes crises as implying continued importance. The divorce and death of Princess Diana were awfully tragic, as was the very public shaming of Prince Andrew and his questionable friendship with billionaire paedophile Jeffrey Epstein. But how Harry leads his life is between himself, his wife and his father, Prince Charles. That is the point of heredity. It is immune to character, as it is to merit.

The second point is we should remember that other European royal families, of the same constitutional status as Britain, have been down sizing for many years now. These royal families balanced privacy and discretion whilst holding down ordinary professions. The King of the Netherlands, Willem-Alexander, is still an airline pilot. He occasionally flies KLM jets, safe in the knowledge that few people recognise him. In 2001 Prince Haakon, heir to the Norwegian throne, married a single mother with a drug-fuelled past. Despite some controversy, he survived incognito.

The King of Sweden, Carl XVI Gustaf, has reigned for 46 inconspicuous years as a nine-to-five job, his family merged into the Swedish bourgeoisie. The Crown Princess, Victoria, works intermittently for the UN. The King of Spain, Felipe VI, may have taken after his philandering father, Juan Carlos, but he became king without fuss on his father’s retirement in 2014. None of these “houses” has an extended state-subsidised royal family. None has grown unstable as a result.

There is no doubt that the exploitation of the British royal family celebrity by palace courtiers as PR handlers has worked. The royal family recognises that truth for itself when HRH King George VI famously quipped, “We are not a family, we are a firm”. The Queen is regularly cited as central to “UK plc” and to tourism. The British people remain overwhelmingly in favour of retaining monarchy as the focus of their patriotism, even during the wobble over Diana’s death. Republicanism is dead. The last ostentatious republican, the Fife MP Willie Hamilton, left parliament in 1987. If Scotland ever went independent it would almost certainly retain the Queen as head of state.

As for how royalty behaves, a constitutional monarchy should be beyond all controversy. As the great political and constitutional commentator (and founder of the Economist magazine) Walter Bagehot put it, “the monarch should be a dignified rather than efficient element of the constitution”. In other words, the monarchy as personified in its reigning king or queen can represent the whole nation in an emotionally satisfying way - everything else is but pure embellishment.

The Queen must be a glorious anthropomorphism of the nation as a whole. If she has opinions, she keeps them to herself - much to her credit. The contrast is clear with countries where state headship is combined with an elected executive presidency. The state risks being tainted by partisanship: witness the embarrassment many Americans feel at having their national loyalty identified with any president based on divided partisan feelings e.g. from FDR to Obama and Nixon to Trump.

A rare occasion when the monarch might overstep the mark was conjectured by Mike Bartlett in his ingenious play, King Charles III, in 2014. It was based on the present Prince of Wales as king, refusing formally to sign a bill censoring the press (good on him). In the resulting crisis, William and Kate engineer Charles’s abdication, while the tearaway Harry takes up with a republican girlfriend. It was not wholly implausible. When Belgium faced a similar crisis over King Baudouin’s refusal to sign an abortion bill in 1990, he was allowed to abdicate for a day.

How the monarchy conducts itself is not wholly irrelevant. It is part of the collective context in which the nation’s politics are enacted. It represents tradition and upholds precedent. It sets boundaries and dictates a courtesy in the conduct of public affairs - however often that courtesy is infringed. What outsiders forget (especially our American friends) is that the British political system is gloriously resilient, as the past three years of Brexit hell have shown. It can tolerate the odd eccentricity, such as the blatant purchase of parliamentary seats in the House of Lords. But the question is how far such eccentricity can extend.

The present heir to the throne, Prince Charles, is deft at stepping mildly out of line. His views on architecture, health and the environment are not overtly partisan. But it does not matter as he is no more “powerful” than a newspaper or television commentator. His influence is that of celebrity. I would rather have the heir to throne engage intelligently in public debate than arrogantly indulge in the sordid sexual antics of his younger brother, Andrew.

For all his perceived faults, Prince Charles knows his limits. To expect such controlled nuances in the constitutional mystique of royalty to apply to an ever larger family has always been an accident waiting to happen. More prescient is the fact that the current system will impose the same disciplines and direct the same public exposure on an ever widening array of royal offspring as the years go by. I feel genuine sympathy for the royal children. Most British minors have their faces blanked out on camera, but not royal ones. They are sentenced to be recognised for life.

As a nation then we are extremely fortunate that Prince Harry is no more militant than in defence of the planet, wild animals and injured military veterans - all worthy causes if we are honest to admit it. Full disclosure: as an ex-veteran, I do give charitable donations to Invictus Games Foundation, the multi-sports event put on for wounded, injured or sick armed services personnel and their associated veterans. Prince Harry was instrumental in founding the Invictus Games in 2014 on his own initiative so that we never forget the courage and sacrifice of our military veterans.

What is already clear is that the Sussexes intend forthwith to redraw the lines of engagement with the press. They are opting out of the Royal Rota, the arrangement whereby, for decades, the royals have given access to a pool reporter from the national papers; instead, they will invite coverage from personally selected media outlets and will use their own social-media accounts, especially Instagram, to communicate directly with the public. Having railed against the media’s commodification of his wife, Prince Harry now seems prepared to take its commodification into his own hands: it was reported in January 2020 that he and the Duchess have lately submitted a trademark application for hundreds of items, from clothing to printed items, that may be issued with the couple’s personal brand, Sussex Royal.

This step is unfortunate and unedifying. To my mind, Sussex is a title, not a brand name. It is no more Harry and Meghan’s to exploit than Buckingham Palace is the Queen’s to sell off. Even if they distance themselves from the monarchy by being financially independent (as well as disowning their titles) by pursuing other commercial opportunities it only takes one scandal - e.g. a goods with their brand made from sweat shop labour or some other unforeseen PR disaster - to reflect badly on the Queen and the British monarchy solely because of Harry’s proximity to the throne. Harry may not be a Prince but he is a Windsor.

We are back to Bagehot again. For it was he who argued that the constitution was divided into two branches. The monarchy represents the “dignified” branch. Its job is to symbolise the state through pomp and ceremony. The government -Parliament, the cabinet and the civil service - represents the “efficient” branch. Its job is to run the country by passing laws and providing public services. The dignified branch governs through poetry, and the efficient branch through prose. The monarchy certainly doesn’t govern through commercial exploitation of its brand as an end in itself.

Today, the dignified branch is trying to adapt to an age of populism and until recently it’s been doing a much better job than the efficient branch. But the monarchy must never lower itself to the lowest common denominator to satisfy the base instincts of populism. As Bagehot aptly said, “An element of exaggeration clings to the popular judgment: great vices are made greater, great virtues greater also; interesting incidents are made more interesting, softer legends more soft.”

A family spat of no public importance is obsessing the nation and the world. Everyone should sit down and have a nice relaxing cup of tea.

#question #megxit #monarchy #britain #prince harry #meghan markle #duke and duchess of sussex #royalty #constitution #journalism

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