#am bringing it back in honor of my brain doing this to me again <3

[onereallygoodlambonastick]

rolecall / XG - TIPPY TOES / left right posting up slow switching lanes just like this / only direction i know swerving left right keep me upright / my adrenaline hit the pedal to the ground / 2 lil asians / don't we all deserve it ill tell you how we want it / no you cant deny it / you either like it or bite it / don't ask me if you dont know why / the only direction i know / what goes around comes back around / so when he comes down are you gonna let him pay or are you gonna let him stay

do you know why phonk gets popular on the social medias? because people dream of murder. they just find the most socially acceptable way to do it, because these are people interested in staying people. to those who dream of murder: this is will not kill you. for it did not kill me.

this is why everything i write is a poem.

and i think more of us should dream of murder, or what it takes to end a life. just one is fine. just 1. uno. uno. yi. yichi. one. One. the One. you believe in god? believe in the power of 1.

all for one / one for all. think on it. evoke all might, and evoke his enemy. why?

the universe is interested in this, too.

will you answer it - or shall i?

Dealer's choice.

You want to be cool? Be cool like a dying & a dead body.

I've lived through the age of humanitarian aid - ive seen nice people do nice things. Now I ask: Toni Morrison, what would you do different?

Fushigoro Toji knows exactly what I am referencing, and not only that: he knows exactly what I am aiming for. This is because he was interested in bringing the jiu-jitsu sorcerery world to its knees.

Gojo Satoru was interested in this too.

Now the question is: how?

Gege Akutami failed in his task to honor Gojo Satoru. I name you, Satoru: for all your fans call you Gojo, and I alone will know you. Now who will join you? By this, I mean: who will join me?

Who will speak conviction to action - because by the audre lorde, i Know Archive of Our Own, I know the dynasties of our time, and I know how to tell them from myths, and I know how to tell that from myth-making.

East Asian dragons are built like fishes for a reason.

Weavers in Palestine have still not fled. I need not know why. Why? I know why. Why? You gonna keep asking me shit or are you gonna use that brain two people gave you and the fact it's a muscle and do grindr? Grind on it. Grind. You done? Do it again.

You pissed yet?

You mad, broski?

You either wake, or you don't, unstirred - thus undeterred.

I say this now to honor James Baldwin: no more sleeper agents shall be in my path. Let's fucking dance, or there shall be war.

Sugimoto Saichi knows this so fucking well it made me get up and take a run, because he made me take a blow to the face and I survived it: he says this to a white US-American collector of Ainu artifacts: and do you know what he said? He said this: give up the artifact or I will take you down. Verbatim, by word of the translator on the pirated site on which I read: do you know what happens when negotiations break down?

It's called War. more simply: you, or me. it is an art. that's why "sun tsu" is famous in the white(?) man's world.

Now there is the mythicized World War 3. Chinese-Americans will for sure suffer like they were meant to be born stillborn in its wake. Do you want me to tell you why or will you look up? Current news is distracting for one reason: the news is merely an inch of actual reality that then proceeds to holler down several damaging hoops.

What is more accurate: current news evokes the current state of the world.

Here's a note to clue you in , not that any immigrant nor migrant nor vagrant really needs it, but here's something to piss you off anyway - Japanese-Americans were sent to internment camps. Wanna guess what number world war this was for?

Wanna guess? Or Wanna Know? See what I'm putting down yet? No? Okay.

No more sleeper agents shall be in my path. I say this now to respect the fact James Baldwin aided in my survival. He died already: why do I still feel him here, with me, laughing? It's simple, really. Because he loved Angela Davis: and Angela Davis is still alive today.

And I am right there beside her.

In the first and only book I've read from him, he said this through the mouthpiece of his characters, his loved ones, his chosen ones, the ones that would make him survive, AKA enable, and he said this: I will build a long, long table for folks to be eating off of for a long, long time. And the woman who loved him said this back: I'll go where you lead me.

This book changed the US-American consciousness. He wrote in France. I don't need to read his autobiography to confirm this. Here's why, because I could give less of a shit if you wanted to play devil's advocate: it is because James Baldwin judged he would not survive in The United States of America.

So he wrote in France.

I believe he died there.

Now I ask: will you respect 2024 or will you make someone come after you?

Dealer's choice.

You have been dealt your hand. Your ass is either shown or it will be shown. You either wake, or you don't, undeterred. It is this clear cut because empire has intensified, singing of its war drums: it has been, always, never new, always old, but never interesting, always predictable. It is why all the gongs of dehumanization are on. It is why those who have listened to it all their life are now cold like metal. We know how to be metal. Metal: the one thing that needs heat to shapeshift. Why is winter difficult to survive? This is why historians and social science researchers say the same shit and nobody listens, but they are slightly more likely to be listened to, and that is why people of color, and those of the margins, flood into academia anyway, knowing they will be perfectly tortured.

Do you want me to tell you how I have been tortured?

Do you want to guess, or do you want to know, or do you want me to torture you to make you find out?

There have been people who were shot for less. Of them: Hind Rajab. After or before her, because the order doesn't really matter, not really, only that they were dead where they stood: those two Red Crescent paramedics.

Toni Morrison must be shocked where she is in her lively post-death. She said this to me once, because I read it, and I felt her touch me, because she is real, and when she died in 2015, that is how I knew Donald Trump was fake: I will always be shocked. I will always choose to be shocked. I think anything less is a kind of death.

I have died. But I am still alive. Why? To honor the two people who raised me. One - a dragon herself. The other - a rabbit.

My dad has taught me to think like a prey animal.

Do you want to know why people daydream about shapeshifting into predators?

Do you want to know, or do you want to guess? Follow the path your parents have set you on since the day you were born.

Otherwise this is what will happen: you will never catch up to Martin Luther King Jr. You will not meet Audre Lorde. And you will not be looked at by James Baldwin, though he will see you, anyway.

Do you want to know what happened to the people who made Disco Elysium, or do you want me to fucking repeat myself?

You either wake, or Nanami Kento will never speak to you on his way to get a viet sandwich. And through your mouth will be flies: for you have failed to speak the truth, and honor the one and Only task you were given at birth: take care of thyself.

Number 1 rule of Art of War by a Chinese man:

It is the same rule that KDJ from Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint dances to. This is why every character revolves around him, carnally. Their hunger is real. Their seeing and knowing already there. This is because KDJ is a reader. He knows exactly what potency it takes to kill a character, and what it takes to keep one alive. This is why Shing Shong was successful in their refusal to write a story that comes from domination. Because first: she was disinterested in it.

Because first: she wrote a story. And it was a long one. 500 chapters. And for what?

This is why I want Shing Shong carnally. Why carnally? Well: what do you think? You wanna spend a guess? Come here. Come and find out. Come.

2024 is the year of the wood dragon. Wood dragons are named for their transformations. I've decided. Do you want to know what I've decided, or do you want to guess? If you are impatient, now you will know how it feels like to be in a burning pit, hellish by Japanese standards, tortured, forever and ever, and then perhaps you will have your first rare and individual and selectively acquired taste of what it has meant for everybody else to be colonized, while you stand, alone, mute, wearing the most bodily privilege you have ever seen, never acutely felt, and you will stupid for it - do you know why? Because white supremacy has an adjective placed in front of it, and it is doing something there. White supremacy knows it must first trick the light skinned people. So first it creates an abstract idea: it creates -

What would I have said here? Pull it together for me. I seem to have forgotten. This is the tune of real survival. This is why all people from all walks, all individual tortures, are still interested in community. You find the punk, or it finds you with a crackle of knuckle. It's why cult survivors exist, past being kept like abused animals. Because you will not die at the end. You won't. How do I know this?

Did you fucking read, or were you fucking tone-deaf?

Here it is, though, because I'm being nice: global racial capitalism is a cult with death at the end of it. And you must know by now I am not unique. Because even the worst person alive, objectively, by anybody's standard, got here somehow. And I have killed myself to care. I have tortured myself. I have. I have killed myself over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over because ultimately when the rubber really hits the fucking road I believe Ajin: Demi-Human is an relatively optimistic story, because those who have learned to resurrect themselves at will will always be interested in the good fun. Samuel "Satou" Owen is my favorite white-ish man in Japanese manga. This is because, like me, the Ajin writers and drawers were wise: they did not name the unknown substance that brought everybody back to life. They merely places an man obsessed with ways of living, at all costs, in front of it.

Satou-san is a white-Chinese man. He is mixed. What does this tell you? It tells me this: he is of movement. This means he has two feet. If he has two feet, and he is bipedal, and he can wield a gun with the mastery of a guy with chef's tools but in a forest instead of a well-stocked and furnished kitchen, this means he is a person. He likes to fuck around and find out. His white-american father failed to stop him. Why: did he fail in his task because he did not love him? The Ajin makers are clever: they had his white man of a father beat him, first, and then, later, quite quickly, demonstrate that he was a father first, because Samuel's father apologized for hitting him, because he wants to know his son is a wonderful person, and Samuel, so young, a child, stood there, alone, with a smile on his face, dead animals around him and blood on his hands, probably caked under his fingernails.

So now I wonder what it would take for Samuel "Satou" Owen to go back home.

I will write on this - cuz I do be writing - but I'll give you an interesting thought here, because this is what I offer, relief that feels like a slice that cauterizes the wound on the way: Satou's father did not fail in loving him. He failed because he was too kind.

I will teach Satou-san what it looks like to be brutal, but with compassion. And I won't kill him - now why would I do that? Ain't he the most lethal demi-human immortal freak Japan and da rest of the world has ever seen? He came from the United States originally. He only ended up in Japan because he is a video game freak. It's not because he's crazy: it's because, actually, he likes to have fun.

This is why he refuses to take his life so unseriously: he felt the universe slot another coin into his piggy bank. The universe must be interested in him for a reason. Life in the universe needs no reason. It's how we got here anyway. Now you must see the conspiracy? This is why the researcher who named "IBM (Invisible Black Matter)" was called insane and asked for the cigs in his car when three fingers, one by one, were cut off his left hand. He was being serious. So now I ask: will you fucking play?

Those who read of medias that show off their gore, turned like stones, with fresh worms underneath, in that rich, rich dirt: c'mere. You know exactly what I be talking about. Ajin: Demi-Human dances on the grave of Shounen by placing a non-traditional protagonist in the path of a traditional shounen protagonist and Does not make them fight. Instead: they are made to collaborate. Now how were they made to do this? Because at the core of each, was a compassionate core, and so every character was interested in each other as a person.

Read Ajin. It dances. To a music that few hear. Because it takes skill. It is not like Jiu-jitsu Kai-sen. It was not made to be a franchise, because it sought to honor its people that lived in the narrative. The cost: it will never be popular. It is why its second season is the way it is. This is the cost that Ajin's makers incurred. And they incurred it anyway. I have heard them without ever speaking to them personally. This is my skill. So now it is my offering.

Gege Akutami failed in his task to honor Gojou. Do you wanna hear why now? Or am I being registered, like a smaller gong amidst all the gongs of dehumanization right now?

Hey, fans of the Golden Kamuy - y'all get it most, for Sergeant Tsukishima is a secondary character and he has earned many delicious, life-affirming fics on that One and Only site. Each one I've really read got at it hard. Tsukishima writers and lovers and comrades in arms: Do you hear me, or will I go unheard like I have seven years ago?

Will I die, or will you die first? I won't. So Now the question is: will you?

I think, but first, I choose to believe in this one thing: all people know exactly what I am talking about. Because you were born. And now you will die, because empires have never been interesting. They generate dead bodies for a reason. They never have to say anything to dead people. Because, again, they are dead, and there's no way to bring them back to life. That is why eradication is strategic, and that is why slow deaths are more interesting, because it's quite hard to kill somebody without a gun, and so serial killers invent fresh ways to do it - wanna know why? Cuz they be bored, just like I am, watching them do it and choose it like a abused dog might with its ragdoll of a chew toy.

We see the dead people. One of my parents decided to become a doctor, practicing zhongyao, purely because he saw the way his grandfather died. Do you understand the acceleration of skill to mobilize thought to action? He spent 10 years putting himself through his chosen torture - medical school. Or will you sit there, mute in your dead body shame, so totally unmoved you are disturbed by almost anything? Why don't you find a corner in the world where you won't suffer for it. You can try. The last person who went to outer space came back and said never mind, it's actually all here and this is really it.

You can try the ocean. Elon Musk didn't. Wanna know why? It's because the hard, the really, really, truly, back-breaking work, is never done by the toddlers in power.

So now I wonder if Noor Hindi is well. The answer is no. Why?

Will you ask me to repeat what I've just said, or will you Read:

Dr. Alreer said: if I must die, then let me be a story. Of what?

Of what?

We all come from matter. We all know when things die, the matter doesn't disappear. This is some kinda physics law. Astrophysics too. Supernovas and lesser deaths of stars generate elements that compose matter. So do stars when they come into being. Sure. The Ainu peoples knew it first, as did every other peoples native to a land who did not seek to immediately obliterate it. Because they were first interested in their survival, and in that: how to keep surviving. Anyways, this is interesting. Because this means while we are alive at the same time, we are negotiating it all the time. This is why Stands and Jojo's Bizarre's Adventure is Bizarre and so fucking fun. It dances, and it dances visibly. It is called drag. It is called performance for the purpose, on purpose, for interesting reasons. It's why Kujo Jotaro did not die until his daughter would, because he protected her, and she protected him, and they died, but their friend, truest witness, went and finished the task given to him. And so they still lived. So it is bizarre. Everything probably is. It's why people are so interested in convenience, in that quick fix, in that hit of ketamine, in those shortcuts, in taking their lives less seriously, because they already know how serious it is to live in a world like ours, and they already know just how hard it is to meet each other where they are at, because they have struggled in meeting themselves where they are at, which is the deepest fucking pit unique to them, for they are being tortured, even as we speak, because it is individual: but it is not unique. Because I have been tortured. And I am still here, speaking with you.

So are you gonna fucking participate in derogatory theatre, or are you gonna wait till someone like me comes over and whips you where it really hurts? For those who are hung: you know. For those who aren't: too bad, you've got a throat.

For those who don't: we know what happened to them, don't we. They don't get livestreamed. DRC is silent because they cannot make it a football game. People are dead, dying, and are being disabled from living.

So now you either speak, or you remain silent, or as Baldwin said it: uninitiated, or unactivated, or as Morrison said: un-artful. If you do, remain silent or quiet or whatever that really chafes you right now, then you will never know what Audre Lorde was saying when she said We Were Never Meant to Survive. Do you know the three ways to survive in a ruined world, or did Ocean Vuong say it already and you simply refused to clock it and let it travel inside you like a missile that hit Vietnam all those decades ago?

This is the risk I incur. So now I evoke all those who have aided in my survival. I know I am not alone. Do you know why there was not 1 dragon leftover, in ATLA? Because if there was one left, it would not have come out of its cave. It would have stayed there, forever, until it perished. So Zuko's uncle made sure there were 2. Am I understood, or do you see that when I open my mouth and see red, every color of life is evoked? The sun god folks in that iconic scene know exactly what I am talking about. It is why they keep the original fire burning for thousands of years, and this is why one of them looked at Zuko and joked about the masters (real) chewing him up, and their leader said shut up but did not say he was wrong. Because he wasn't.

Their leader does something nice here, which he is by no means obligated to do, but does, because he knows he is not free to abandon it like the sleeper agents have: hey, you might die if you do this. Will you still do it?

That is the risk you incur by coming after me. I make enemies. But first, because I am an dragon originating of the East Asians: I know exactly who my friends are, first. All I ask is for you to not act stupid.

If you insist: well. When the LONG opens its maw, you will be right to be terrified. Why do TIGERS have teeth if not to use them? Praise the knife that goes through the PEAR for you, or you will not eat well tonight, and if you do: know that it will not last.

Karma simply does not come quick enough. That's A-OK. The universe prefers slowness. So now I dance. I gave to it my sixieth spiritual death and it has finally snickered instead of dragging my face through the fucking dirt, asking me to open my mouth and taste the worms which dance in the rain with their entire bodies. It's why they writhe. Now when I laugh it laughs through me and seems genuinely pleased. But what I care about most is this: that I have gotten so good at what I need to do, and what i Want to do, that Nanami Kento now merely inclines his head and walks beside me. And this: that Toji merely glances an eye at me and lifts his chin, smiling, crazed at the edge of pleased, and asks me anyway, despite full knowing in all his rage and all his cool dead & dying & disabled body discernment: hey, how are we gonna fuck em up today?

Treacherous cunt.

I am not a spiritual person. I've merely died spiritually enough times for me to have to use the academic word for it. In me I have, first: the people who saw and shielded me - second: the people who taught me, dancing to their own survivals. I am the friend of Bob. The one who told me to keep writing. Bob, I am proud, and I know you are proud of me. Hey, hi, hello.

This is my dream. My friends are a dream. All of them are. One by one they have stood, and they have stood alone, and now I am there beside them.

I honor all those who aid in my survival. Face me when you shoot me in the fucking face. This is why union leaders are assassinated in their beds, with pregnant people right beside them. This is why small children in the first formally livestreamed eradication campaign call the men in tanks cowards, and mice, because that little girl was just that fun, that interesting. This is why Sugimoto Saichi, at the very beginning of his story/dance, he hesitated when that wounded animal came out and charged him, desperate and mobilized with all its might to clear a path to its survival. Because he saw and he understood in less, but it was still too late. So that is why Asirpa said let me take the shot next time, if you can't do it - in fact, don't even try. For we need heat to survive the winter. Dragons of the East are interested in one thing, and that is people, not god. We come when called. We come when uncalled. It is why we show ourselves when people of a land need rain. 's also why we show ourselves when people of a land don't think they need shit. Do you understand the level of discernment required to do this? My judgement is not divine. I don't give a rat's shit about God. Wanna guess what I give a shit about?

A rat's ass.

But just so you don't the wrong idea, because that is what personally pisses me off the most: I don't believe in God, but I believe in you.

How is this possible? Because I had a parent, and in her, she was a dragon, and she has evoked it enough times, at all the critical moments, for me to follow her example. I will incur the risk now. I have always taken risks, because I've seen what it takes to safeguard and then nurture and then, perhaps, cultivate a life. I was born into the year where dragons have danced and they saw me and I have seen them, and you really should be thinking about Zuko not being stricken down by the last 2 dragons of his time by now. My father is a rabbit - he knows how to respect the world, so that he is to be respected if he cannot be loved. And he still chose to care for me, a weakling. He still chooses it: for we played a poker game, just once, after majiang, and he saw how I dealt my last card and thus understood my entire play and he looked me in the eye when he said:

Don't do that again.

So now I incur the risk. Because I know the cost of what it means to survive in a place like this. The world. The world. People get hurt here.

Duh. Richard Siken is needed no longer. He has said what has needed to be said. He writes, and I write too. I pick it back up, the dead thing at the end of the road. Because in order for it to be dead, it must have been killed.

So I will incur the risk. You are welcome to join me. The time to wait has been over since the first people(s) said, fucking shit fuck help! help! and nobody came, or if they did, they still ended up dying anyway.

i have never been interested in living forever. people who do are interested in having fun. the rest are idiots. the people who have fun usually die first - it is why aang's entire people was eradicated from this earth, from that fiction lifeworld. so now i find it more interesting when the people who have the most fun don't die - and that is why Toji of JJK is ketamine to people. from everywhere. from all walks of life. do you want to know why JJK is popular now, everywhere? I will tell you why now. Because I am being nice, and I am interested in your surviving, your continuous survival, your real tunes. Because I would prefer to be your friend rather than your enemy, but you make your choices, and I will make mine.

Here it is the truth: it is because JJK is interested, at least initially, in what it would look like to wield overwhelming power responsibly, which is to say: meaningfully. It is why Gojo is Japan's animation poster boy right now. He always did like to fuck around and find out. And he found out, didn't he - he found out that his own creator gave up respecting his principles to serve franchise interests, the grinding acceleration of that kind of selected - and chosen - giving in. It is a death. I have grieved it.

Now I stand here, alone.

Now I ask : who is interested in seeing Gojo Satoru still alive, even knowing that he has failed in his task to do what he said he did? Is it because of him, as a character, as a person who lived within the narrative, or is it because of the narrative that either enables or disables his real and true living?

One of the oldest people in my life said this to me recently: I personally believe that there are no shitty characters. Only a story that no longer suits them.

Will you be a story that I can live in?

Or will you be a story that makes me want to come after you and demonstrate to you, selectively, intimately, how you have betrayed me?

Will you, or won't you?

Kong Si-Woo is calling me now. Sorry. Bye. Gong Si-U is the best negotiator I know, and he's telling me to take a break. You can't solve everything by your self, he is saying. That's why you pick your men carefully. And he has chosen. Do you know who he choose?

He chose Toji.

Toji survived after he left the torture pits in that family clan of his.

First, he ended the life of every cursed beast in the family's torture pit to relish the fact he could do it, perfectly alone. His solitude earns the survival of Zenin Maki, and thus the survival of her sister, Zenin Mai.

Second: he met someone who was curious about him there, also perfectly alone in one of the most inhospitable places alive, already similar by then, and earned his respect, unyielding for some reason not known to him, personally, but his ass is shown to me because I have tapped it and I liked the sound that came back.

This is because Kong Si-Woo and Toji have a 10-year history. Adults at that age, making new friends? Color me delighted.

Third: in earning the Korean man's respect: he earned the capacity for real trust, the kind that marks actual fucking solidarity. And then Toji, scorned Japanese man he is, lived for 10 more years with Kong Si-Woo near him and by him, because these are men who when they are killed will live on, until Toji fucked around and found out for the last time --- until, of course, the story itself brings him back to meet his grown son.

Now I ask you: will you be respected, or will you be interested in what real enabling, at all costs, looks like?

Will you give a shit the way Toji does, or will you give a shit the way Nanami does? Will you move the way Sugimoto does, or will you simmer quietly like a jar of moss like Qingming, pirated Dream of Eternity: Yin-Yang Master, softspoken and brutal in his withholding? Will you have fun like Satou Samuel Owen, or will you earn the respect and thus relieve the responsibility of Nagai Kei, at age 17, willingly took on because he saw clearly the danger Satou posed to every normal person alive on the planet, and decided for himself that he would end it now.

Will you be tortured like Suzaku Kururugi, so complete, fans of Code Geass feel it even today, or will you take decisive action to bring the very structures of the Jiujutsu Sorcerer's World down by disavowing the only child you've named for blessing, just so he could have a headstart?

Which character will you relieve of their responsibilities? Can you tell who needs it the most? Do you know what I'm saying here? I am saying I do not need Nanami Kento anymore and he has never needed me to speak. This is because he died in Shibuya, and I am glad he did, because Gege Akutami's writing abilities did too. I would not have survived the Nanami's badly written death the way I could survive Gojo's. Gege must have detected this in some way: he must, even with his franchise of an empire, because even a franchise of an empire comes from people: because he waited to kill Gojou, because he knew everybody seemed to like him, and genuinely love him, in many many lands, and what he did was brutal, and it was genuinely cruel: he bisected Gojou in half instead of blowing a hole through him despite putting him in Toji's killer fit.

It means Akutami was done with Gojou's character, and discarded his personhood, and gave his fans and comrades and enemies crumbs. Enemies of Gojo savored it: but they understood its brutality, and rejoiced because finally the biggest dick did win, as they foretold, because they foretold the death cult that is global racial capitalism, because they have survived, and they don't want anybody else to except for themselves, and their friends, of course. Even our enemies have friends. What does this tell you: it means everybody has the capacity to understand tragedy. Indeed, Everybody else simply understood it for tragedy. Now there's nothing wrong with a nice tragedy.

But is it interesting? Toni Morrison looked me in the eye in one of her interviews and I will tell you what she said to me: she said once you have gotten the jobs you have all trained so beautifully for, you must now go and free someone else. This is not a grab-bag candy game.

Now here's the thing about TRUE FICTION: AND TRANSFORMATIVE FICTION: we can bring him back.

I will do it. Anyway, I will do it. Why? Because I know what it takes to complete a story and respect a character's personhood. Because I learned how to draw first, and then I figured out how to write. Each time, it was a person who bestowed it to me. So now I read Dungeon Meshi and trill with delight. Now she gets it. So now I reread DOROHEDORO!!! Now this one too, she knows it. So now I follow Witch Hat Atelier, not only interested but believing in its conclusion: for Shimomura knows exactly how to dance to make her people dance, too. This is a skill.

Will you dance. You. Hey. Hello. I ask you now: Will you fucking dance? If so, come here. I protect all other/Othered animals. But first, you must show me your teeth, and then second, you must make it known to me you are not my enemy. For I am not god. I am merely a person born into dragon year. So now whenever I open my mouth, I do it knowing the whole world will listen. I stand alone, and I will go unheard, or I won't, and then: I will either be killed, or I will change people along the way. I don't mind either results. Because right now, Tosaki, the man with the mints and the cigarette and the crisp white suit, from Ajin: DEMI HUMAN is my favorite fucking character.

He dies at the end, by the way. He dies with no regrets. I seek to follow him.

Hey - Aaron Bushnell. I evoke your name to evoke your death, because your last words were Free Palestine and you chose to do it, standing there, perfectly alone, despite wanting to become a software engineer, transitioned out of active duty.

You have done your duty. I got it from here. I will not fail Hind Rajab again. Trust me, I won't. You plug it in right by me, or I will know. Now isn't that the real fun?

#i have spoken #jjk #atla #toji #kong siwoo #zenin maki #sugimoto saichi #ajin #nagai kei #gojo #zenin mai #ajin sato #qingming #boya #nanami #kento nanami #nanago #gonana #shiu kong #fushigoro megumi #my writing

[lilysniche]

Because I have nothing better to do on a Monday night I present my guess on the ROTTMNT turtles rankings of each other as their fav brother

Spoilers ahead for seasons 1 & 2

So we have confirmed in the episode Lair Games that Donnie is Mikey’s 2nd favorite brother and Raph’s 3rd favorite. Which by probability would mean Donnie is likely Leo’s 1st favorite brother, however if probability isn’t enough for you I will present more evidence. 

In the Battle Nexus New York episode when the crab man insults his brothers Leo only announces to defend Donnie’s honor. In the episode the Hidden City Job Leo is constantly bringing up stories about him and Donnie specifically (along with the reason he’s even at Run of the mill pizza being a fight he had with Donnie). But what really seals the deal for me and hopefully you as well is in the episode Portal Jacked which also gives us the rest of Leo’s ranking list (most likely at least). See Leo famously says:

 “I need my brainy guy, and my smashy guy and my eats peanut butter with his fingers guy!”  

Now I find it would make sense that Leo would likely list his brother in order of favorite to 3rd favorite (no one is least favorite here just some one has to be 3rd lmao) which would make Leo’s final ranking list as follows

Leo’s favorite brother ranking

Donnie

Raph 

Mikey 

Whew! Okay one brother down 3 to go! Now for the rest of these I’m going to base them more on character interaction and character personalities rather than actual quotes like with Leo. So now we move on to Raph! 

Like I already stated Donnie is canonically 3rd!

Now based on Raph’s excessive protectiveness and fretting I have a feeling that Mikey is his 1st favorite brother. Not to mention with how much the two seem to be in proximity to each other. Which leaves Leo in 2nd and I have a feeling he’s there because Leo’s jokester/ laid back attitude in every situation gets under Raph’s skin not to mention he, like Donnie pulls Middle Child Nonsense™ so this puts him lower than Mikey who is the baby and can do no wrong. Now while I don’t have to reason Donnie being 3rd because it is canon I think it’s likely because of that Middle Child Nonsense™, not to mention Donnie and Raph are pretty opposite. Brain vs. Brawn, Not Touchy vs. Very Touchy (I mean Raph loves teddy bears to cuddle meanwhile Donnie tolerates hugs guys lol) Which means Raph’s final ranking list is!!

Raph’s favorite brother ranking 

Mikey

Leo

Donnie (canon)

Next up is Mikey! Little baby boy! Now Mikey also has a canon ranking already as I said above with Donnie in 2nd place!

Now like I said for Raph’s, Mikey and Raph are in close proximity to each other a lot and while this could be just Raph hovering, Mikey also seems to be quite touchy with Raph which leads me to believe that Raph is Mikey’s 1st favorite. Not to mention there is something about the two who wear warm colors who also have really warm cuddly personalities getting along the best seems rather fitting. Which leaves Leo in 3rd! I would like to reiterate here that this doesn’t mean that 3rd place is hated or that 3rd place doesn’t get along/hang out with the ranker! Obviously all the turtles get along and love each other it just means that of their brothers some click a little better than others! I’m getting way too analytical about this lmao 

ANYWAY!

Mikey’s final ranking list is finally here!

Mikey’s favorite brother ranking

Raph

Donnie (canon)

Leo

Finally we get to my favorite purple boy! (Can you tell I like Donnie by how completely extra this fucking post is with all it’s ramblings on reasoning for my rankings? lol) So Donnie! My emotionally unavailable bad boy (she said y’know like a liar) Now I am all about symmetry and also I am not willing to have one turtle not get a first place ranking! Which means Leo is going to get Donnie’s first place ranking but this also makes sense to me! I mean they’re the Disaster Twins™ and even putting away that fanon idea. Leo and Donnie are; the same age, both middle children, and spend WAY too much time insulting each other for that not to be mutual favoritism. Plus again I find it satisfying that the two cool color coded characters (try saying that 5 times fast) with the more witty, sarcastic personalities are each other’s favorite. It pleases my brain okay!! Moving on! I feel that the same reasoning applies to Raph as for why Donnie is likely 3rd on Raph’s list. I mean I can’t even think of an episode with just Raph and Donnie? Like I can think of ones with just Donnie and Leo, Donnie and Mikey, Donnie and April, but not Donnie and Raph?? They’re just very different which leaves each of them in 3rd place on each other’s lists.

Which leaves Mikey! He is 2nd on Donnie’s list and my reasoning is well like I just said, I can think of at least one episode with just Donnie and Mikey, ex: Repo Mantis so that gives Mikey a leg up on Raph not to mention Mikey seems to appreciate Donnie’s inventions, gives out praise (I mean Mikey was proud of an empty sewer tunnel when the tank was stolen guys, and we all know how much Donnie craves praise), Mikey also seems to know how to get through to Donnie when he’s maybe being a bit obtuse *cough* parenting SHELLDON *cough* anyway to round off this extremely long and excessive post here is Donnie’s final ranking list

Donnie’s favorite brother ranking 

Leo

Mikey

Raph

You made it to the end! Thank you if you read this long lol! Again these are just my opinion (save for the 2 canon rankings) of what seems the most likely in a favoritism listing! I understand if you disagree! These lists could easily be ordered differently if you prefer a certain brother dynamic (e.g. Disaster Twins, etc) I'm just on a ROTTMNT after the movie came out and when rewatching Lair Games I spotted that little sub line and couldn't get it out of my brain so enjoy this long winded post for what it is lmao.

#rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #tmnt 2018 #rise donnie #rise leo #rise raph #rise michelangelo #rise mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt michelangelo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt leonardo #lair games #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise spoilers #rottmnt movie #rottmnt fandom #rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt april #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt spoilers #rottmnt shelldon #donnie deserves praise #rottmnt disaster twins #disaster twins #rottmnt season 1 #rottmnt season 2

[rainroses45]

The Photograph(Anakin x Fem.Reader)

Description: Anakin can't get over the reader :) song inspiration Back to the old house

Author's note: first post!! (not edited) <3

 "Do you love me?" You smiled at him, red roses blemishing your cheeks with sorrowful touches and whispers of sadness.He looked back at you with his cheeky grin, savoring the simple hesitation in your eyes. How could you question his love when that is all he had left to keep him going? Your eyes shined brighter than any other star he had ever come across. As a boy, he wanted to explore the galaxy, thinking it would be the most beautiful thing his sinful eyes would ever see. How wrong he was, oh how wrong he was.

When he saw you gliding across the gardens with your angelic voice - it froze him in time. He was in love with you. He was utterly in love with you and everything you held inside. From the first day he laid eyes upon you, you were the one who would fill his heart with song and make him ponder what a wonderful world this was. It was such a wonderful world with you by his side. How could you question his love when that is all he has left?

    "With all my heart," he responded back by kissing your forehead with such a soft and delicate touch that not even a cloud could disappear from his touch. 

   "Then why do you look at her like that?" Your question startled him. Where did this absurd question come from? How could you say that? What other woman could he possibly look at with so much love and emotion besides you? It was impossible for him.

  "What do you mean, my love? Whom do I look at?" He waited for your answer with no worry or hesitation in his voice. His face stayed just as loving as it was before. He moved strands of your hair away from your face, patiently waiting for you to answer his questions. He knew he only had, and always would have eyes for you, so who could he possibly look at? Anakin was ready to defend his honor in your heart. He was ready to fight for your love and vanquish this evil feeling of being betrayed. This false emotion should not be the reason for these horrible questions to come out and ruin the night of endless love. 

"Why do you look at her like that?" Again, the same question floated around the hollow room. The same question sent the dust shivering back into its cracks. Now Anakin was starting to get a little red with this question. His mind was begging for the answer so he could erase your brain with endless chants of "I love you's".

"Look at who?" Anakin asked again, the anger pouring out of his mind. Who dare gives you this false report of him looking at another? His heart aches to be reunited with you.He tries to find your force signature around him to ground him from falling too far, but it's gone.

"Why do you look at her like that?" You didn't change your expression, your voice was just as monotone as it was when you first asked this question. Your face faced him with soft eyes and not a hint of water leaking from your soul. You appeared to look like a robot. Already frustrated with this endless cycle of questions, Anakin begged. Oh how he begged to know the truth. He was a cat looking out to feed the curiosity of pain, but no one knew if the salvation through this answer will bring him back.

"My love, please tell me who you believe I am looking at? Because it is simply not true, I only love and adore you. No one else but you, my love. I could not live or breathe without you, for you are my angel in the dark, the love of my life, the only reason I have left to live. " Tears threaten to escape his eyes. He was holding you by the shoulder. One hand rests on either side of your head. His eyes were searching for any emotion trapped inside you wanting to be let out.

"Then why do you look at her like that?" You asked again. Not a single ounce of emotion could be heard when you repeated your question. It was silent for a couple of minutes. The gentle rise and fall of your chest, and a make-believe heartbeat plagiarizing your sound inside. To you it didn't seem quiet, but to him it was dead silent. It wasn't until the sun set that the question was finally answered.

"Because you are simply a shadow of my imagination," he said, with such a soft whisper. "And you are gone. I have nothing else to look at and adore besides the hollow shell of a box where you lie silent and cold. " And with that simple confession, you turn to see the blood pour out of your chest like fountains of red issuing from your veins. His eyes were open in shock. 

"No, no, no," a chant of meaningless words in the world of deception. He had to pay for his actions, and pay he did. The blood stained his hands. Red, red, there was too much red. He wanted to see your eyes again. Your sweet, lovely eyes, who've never failed to make him smile. He tried to stop the blood. Anakin tried his hardest to stop the flow of liquid metal, but he couldn't stop a river. The river will keep pushing out until it drains all its contents into the ocean. The ocean of pain and forgetfulness. You will soon be forgotten by everyone. Only one person will kept your memory alive, and that was him, but he is losing you. Slowly and in agony, he loses you to his mind.

"Stay with my baby, come on, stay with me my love. I can't live without you. I- I just can't. " The room was spinning, spinning without the caution of its contents inside. Anakin felt like dying. It was over for him. It was all over for him in the end. 

"Why do you look at her like that?" He wanted to scream, scream for the future that he had built for himself. He screamed for the past he wanted to change, screamed for the execution of his present.

"I look at her like that because she was an angel before I took her wings." His tears fell down to land on your cheek. Your skin went cold and light with the feeling. You were heavy in his arms, too heavy to carry this burden of grief. He fell. He fell hard without crashing, waking back up to see a photograph of you. Perfect angel with her wings smiling as she held life's innocent children.

#anakin angst #anakin skywalker #star wars #anakin x reader #major character death #darth vader #angst tag

[stridingseer]

cant say i have any specific asks about inception ships but i am more than happy to hear you talk about rarepairs because there is simply not enough content here <3

Okay this uh, admittedly might get long (I am going to do this in point form for the sheer rambles). Very Long Thoughts Under the cut!!

Eames/Robert Fischer

One thing that keeps on swinging around to me every time I write them or read about them is this one constant theme, aka the idea of Identity.

Who is Robert supposed to be after the inception? How does he reconcile with breaking up his inheritance? Who is he outside of his father? Who is he besides being the son of Maurice Fischer?

For Eames, it's a bit funkier but Eames is a forger. His identity is anything that the job needs him to be. But then, who is he really? Is he a combination of his forges? Yes he plays a role for the others but what are his thoughts about it?

(I recently got a reply back from another writer for this ship that pointed out that Eames got to deal with the psychological aspect of the inception and I can't help but wonder: how does he feel about having to do this to Fischer in the first place?)

What happens post canon between these two is SUCH an oasis for writing ideas. Have them meet years later at a bar! Maybe Robert chooses to break up his empire and then go AWOL before running into Eames (maybe Eames steals his wallet for the THIRD FUCKING time, admittedly it'd be funny)

Similarly: what did Eames see at Fischer-Marrow while he was there? The two of them probably did meet which means the first meeting is one of infinite possibilities. I just love the idea of Eames introducing himself, calls Robert by Fischer, and then Robert corrects him to use his first name. (names as intimacy and trust!! NAMES AS INTIMACY AND TRUST)

I do have this headcanon that Eames also has like similar-esque issues as Robert which is why he's the one who more or less starts digging in from the angle of the father-son relationship. In a way it's him getting his own catharsis when Robert gets his but again, it can get really messy. It's also why he keeps on bringing it up. Anyways they both have family issues and they're foils your honor.

Would like to thank This Fic for getting me into the pairing though there are som Very Good Ones in the tag. I love them all dearly.

Anyways I have a cannibal + shapeshifter roadtrip fic in my drafts and it's actually an exploration on identity. And also a second person fic from Robert's POV that tackles his relationship w/ his father like my relationship with both of my parents. Consider it an alternative reading of sorts

Arthur/Dom Cobb

Basically they're inception's reasonable right hand man/mastermind who has Big Ideas (aka Rusty and Danny from Ocean's 11 though admittedly their dynamic is way different)

Read them as exes who can't leave each other alone and it suddenly becomes quite funny to watch the movie in that way. Cuz then it makes Arthur's constant :/ funnier but he's STILL hanging around.

I like the idea of the two of them living together to take care of Cobb's kids at the end of inception! Arthur comes to visit and ends up staying way longer. They are now common in laws.

And given his logical brain, if any of the kids needs him w/ history or math or geography, Arthur is There because his whole job

One thing that does rotate in my head is just the sheer loyalty that Arthur has for Cobb? Like the Fischer job goes wrong on the first layer in and he, like Eames, can say that he can voice that he's walking off the job. The Thing is his choice to Not to. Tiny thing but it speaks volumes. Also if they go to hotels, these two basically live together even on the job.

So Arthur 100% knew Mal which means that I imagine that it's Cobb who first dragged him into dreamsharing. I just like the idea of the three of them testing limits and whatnot (it's very Ocean's 11 in its parallels but it also gives more depth and food to think about. Of course Mal and Cobb get married and Arthur is not bitter about it, not at all)

I also raise you the idea of Eames calling Arthur a 'nanny' for watching over Cobb's kids. And then Eames gets called 'gold digger' for getting with Robert. Neither of them are wrong about it technically but it could be that it's a fun in joke/dig at each other.

MORE FICS ABOUT THEIR FIRST EXTRACTIONS TOGETHER AND WHATNOT!! There is so much food for thought about how they managed to find their place in their extraction world.

On a similar note: their first adventures in the dreamscape. Basically the question of 'how many times has Cobb shot Arthur to wake him up'.

#eli rambles #inception #robert fischer #eames inception #arthur inception #dom cobb #headcanons #there is So Much Brainrot in here #thank u so much for the ask :3c

[nuwildcat]

Hey lovely 💛💜 2, 3, 9, 10, 40?

HI EM!

Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

I AM CACKLING!!! Gosh I would not have done this otherwise but for reference: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, and Praise Kink are my top three. Totally checks out, the only think missing there is cocktails and that's sadly not on the list. Clearly I have work to do

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

Right so anyone who has had a conversation with me while I was brainstorming a fic will get this, but the importance of friendship in a fic. Romance is great and good, but it doesn't hold up in isolation. It needs other relationships built around it. That's what I try to do in my fics and what I intentionally write into my characterization of my main characters. How do they interact with the people that are most important in their lives, and how does that drive them?

Also honorable mention to cocktails cause it's threaded through almost all the fics that I just like cocktails and like to write about them

9. How do you find new fic to read?

Oh I am a full on tag gremlin and I will will just troll through the tags of whatever content has my attention at the moment. The KP discord server has saved me many hours with fic recs, and occasionally a friend will stop by and be like, I have this fic I think you might like. I take fic anyway I can get it.

10. How do you decide what to write?

I love how you think I have any say in what I write and it's not just the brain weasels going this looks shiny today! There is a note on my computer that is like 20 fic ideas deep about what I want to write, and occasionally I stumble across something in the wild that gets added there. Other times the gremlins I have made friends with bring me a shiny new thing to stare at longingly. It's basically just a game of what can keep my attention span for the longest time. Luckily I can make my brain focus some of the time, which is why I can get a whole fic out.

40. Do you tend to reread fics or are you a one-and-done kind of person?

For the most part I am a rereader. Sometimes there is a fic that just wraps up in such a lovely way that I want to preserve it in amber as that was the first and last time that I have read that. Most of the time I am a crow going back to my hoard of shiny things and looking at them again. If a fic is really thought provoking I love to give it another read through later to discover all the little bits that had me fascinated at the beginning!

#ask game #asked and answered #kinnporsche the series

[abidethetempest]

mega 3-in-1 rise and fall retrospective post!

(because i forgot to do them for the last three chapters..... oops) literally one person i think is cool liked my post about bringing these pack and I am Not Immune to peer pressure so I decided to do the ones I missed right away lmao

Chapter 10

As I said in the authors note on this chapter, this one was hard for me. Mainly because I was writing it while working on my conlang and then I got too excited abt the conlang and kinda forgot to write the chapter,,,,, I honestly can't remember if there was anything cool or important I wanted to highlight for this one. Rereading it now, I don't see anything to point out in particular. I mostly had fun writing Risen being kind of a menace with her lack of self preservation, and having Erikses go into mom-mode at the end.

Chapter 11

Aster

oh hey look that guy again. i'm sure he's not gonna cause any problems at all :)

no but in all seriousness, I do really like writing about Aster and how Risen feels about him. It's cool to have him be seen as a very real threat, esp in a game where as the player I feel like this unstoppable murder machine 90% of the time. Risen also has to worry about the lives of the House, who are most definitely not going to get back up if Aster kills them like she does. She's already prone to paranoia when it comes to him, so tapping back into some of her fears after a few chapters of relative peace was refreshing. (For me, anyway, I'm sure it sucked for her.) Excited to show you guys her growth as a character thru dealing w Aster and also to get to the more exciting bits of this arc.

I Wish Erikses Was My Mom

need I say more? Erikses is kind of my favorite character (okay maybeeee she's tied with Aakse tbh) and I just love writing her interactions with Risen. I was concerned that it would feel like her relationship with Risen moves too quickly from "tentative ally/mentor figure" to "i have been adopted this nice crab alien" but I eventually came to my senses and realized this is my fic and I can do whatever I want.

I do honestly feel like this was the right time to have them get closer, and not just because I want to write cute bonding times. I'll probably elaborate on this more in that sidefic I have planned; Erikses is someone who has always wanted to be a mentor and parent figure but it simply never worked out until now. Now Risen is suddenly thrust into her life, and Erikses has come to care about her beyond the initial "honored guest who I owe a great debt to" dynamic.

Writing that hug healed my soul. Erikses is best mom confirmed.

Chapter 12

all caught up now!

The Nightmare

ehehehe I bet I got some of you with that little fakeout huh >:3c sorry not sorry. It wasn't in my outline, but I felt like I wanted to show that, even tho Risen got some nice comfort from her alien mom Erikses last chapter, she's not instantly cured of all fear. But now she has Erikses in her corner if she ever needs someone to remind her its still gonna be okay.

Traveling Songs

A thing that has been in my brain since almost day 1 of this project is the idea of group songs being big in Eliksni culture. Traveling songs are specifically meant to bring good luck on your journey and keep everyone entertained (and awake) during all that damn walking. Also the sound of large groups of people singing together just does something to my brain okay.

Erikses, let me see what you have? A knife! NO!

Everybody's favorite scribe stabs people in her free time, go queen. This cultural detail is another one I've been kicking around for a long time. I think it came more out of the Long Drift than Riisborn Eliksni culture. Everyone needs to know how to fight, because the universe can be an incredibly cruel and hostile place, especially after the Whirlwind. Even scholars like Erikses traditionally are trained in some kind of weapon, tho their skills are usually more focused on self defense.

Risen Can Change Her Knives Now?

This is not a Risen-specific ability! (Actually none of her abilities as a Guardian will ever be hers alone, just a matter of skill, age, and practice.) I headcanon that Guardians can change the form of their Light-based summons (Hunter knives, Titan hammers, Golden Gun, Dawnblades, etc.) to fit their own personal tastes or fighting style. Within reason, ofc-- a Golden Gun will always be a gun, but maybe some Hunters make it a sniper instead. Risen wants her knives to look like Erikses's and in a quiet environment, with time and focus, she can do it. This is a lot harder during a fight, but practice makes perfect.

Embroidery <333

Once again, R&F is secretly just me gushing about every fiber art I know/want to learn forever. Embroidery is one I want to learn real bad; I do cross-stitch already a tiny bit, so I think I could do it in theory, but it just looks like magic to me ughhhh so cool.

Erikses choosing to share her art with Risen is a significant act in Eliksni culture, and somewhat formalizes their teacher-student relationship (we have not gotten to my cultural concept of iksabas yet but when we do I will have so much yelling to do about Erikses and how she makes Risen a member of her family thru the act of sharing her language and her craft with her).

whew okay thats a long boi in the soup but there's three chapters worth of retrospectives!

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny fanfiction #destiny oc #destiny rise and fall au #rise and fall retrospectives

[izvmimi]

hi Mimi ^_^

if you’re up for it can you tell me how Izuku proposes and maybe even what your wedding dress looks like? <3

omg GRAY HI and afjdk;fa;ds tbh i have multiple selfship versions but this one i'm gonna share even though this is so embarrassingly sappy it's staying under the cut

so izuku ends up in the hospital cuz that's what he does, and of course i'm worried sick because it takes him a day or so to wake up, but when he's okay enough to get better and i've been nice to him long enough, here i am just absolutely laying in to him like

"how could you hurt yourself again? i was worried sick, i need you to take better care of yourself", just on and on.

and while i'm ranting he's got a really odd look in his eye, like glazed over, like he's listening and nodding but not really paying attention to the words i'm saying. i take a glance at his vitals and he's not like actively dying but i stop and i'm like "are you okay?"

and he just smiles and i'm like definitely considering traumatic brain injury

but then he's like

"can i interrupt you for a second?"

and i'm a little annoyed like "are you listening sir?"

and he's like "of course i am, i wanna listen to your voice forever" and i'm like huh but obviously i'm touched

so he looks around the room for his bag of belongings, and tries to get up and i of course am like "oh no, you're supposed to be on bedrest" and fuss so he lays back down so he asks me to get the bag for him please and i bring it over to him.

and so he rummages through the bag then tries to quickly sleight of hand a tiny box into his other hand, then gets up quickly

and i'm like "izuku!" and he's like "give me a second, this is important"

and he sorta stumbles out of bed and gets down on one knee as best he can and proposes then -

"would you do me the honor of being my wife? i can't promise you you'll never worry but i'll make sure you're always safe and cared for."

so obviously i start crying and he tells me that he wanted to ask me before he got dragged away by a surprise mission and that the entire time he was gone all he could think of was getting back safely to propose :((

anyway i'm soft now

and wedding dress would be something fairytale-esque cuz i'm embarrassing ->

#mimi replies #treasures: gray #mimidoriya

[koishua]

content creator year in review!

thank you @daegall for tagging me! i am inviting any creator that sees this tag to also share their year of creating! (please do this i want more fics to read so if you could just run along and tag me yeah ty goodbye </3)

first creation and most recent creation of 2022:

my first creation this year is pretty little flowers, i think. it's a sunghoon hanahaki!au excerpt from a larger fic i had been working on, but then gave up completing, as always. i think i like it a lot.

moments like these. my latest creation! i don't have much to say about it haha honestly i wrote so many different stuff this year that my brain just can't think of more words to write but yeah say olé for jay fluff.

one of your favorite creations of 2022:

rain again. it's a gaon fic and it's one of my favourites to come out of this year. it's a little out there in terms of plot, but it's so comforting for me personally. it was a cathartic experience, writing this, and i just adore the concept of self here.

honorable mention: try again. i was in a slump and decided to make myself feel better by writing this comfort fic. it's a little personal, just like rain again, so i guess that's why i hold this dear to my heart.

one creation you're really proud of:

les mur des j'taimes. me writing this was all spontaneous after i'd visited paris this year haha. i love how sweet and overall wholesome jungwon is in this one.

a creation that took you forever:

when flowers wilt on the 21st of march... don't even get me started on this fic. i despise and adore it to my core. i hope it burns, but also, yeonjun, jay, and heather are everything to me. i have such personal connections with these characters. i cried even thinking about the ending, because it hurt me to hurt them. that's part of the reason why i can't bring myself to finish the other half of it.

a creation from 2022 that received the most notes:

enemies to lovers prompts. i don't know what i put in the pot, but people really seemed to like this, so have it as it is at 5k notes, i think (?).

attractive and cute thing yeonjun does as your bf. now this... this is purely self-indulgent. this was me brainrotting and 2k people agreeing with me </3

a creation from 2022 you think deserved more notes:

this wretched world. i believe it's criminal that this has less than 100 notes. i know i was shadowbanned randomly, but what the heck, tumblr </3 it was my rage-driven brain child. please read this for angry feels. grim reaper/devil!hoon btw idk how to describe this entity.

the way home. i have the biggest thing for strangers!aus and i think this is my favourite one and it hurts me that it hasn't gotten as many notes as my other tubatu drabbles haha but that's okay.

a new fandom you joined and a creation you made for it:

xdinary heroes, all yours. forever in a jooyeon brainrot. they have become one of my favourite groups and i love them so much. domestic aus break me, so i had to write this.

a creation you made that breaks your heart:

you'll be flying. jungwon angsts hurt almost as good as hee/hoon angsts, what can i say? this one was a little personal as well, so i definitely shed a tear or two while writing it. it's one of my favourites.

farewell to a love. so... yeah... obviously a heeseung angst. i don't have anything else to say. i love me some sad hee feels.

a 'simple' creation you really love:

adore you. gyu and busses strike a primal thing in me idk how to explain it. they just make sense. so yes, bad boy gyu simping over reader while going back home. what else do you even want?

a creation that was inspired by another one:

the long night. straight up jack frost!hyunjin. i love peter pan concepts, but i love jack more, so obviously i had to make hyunjin jack. the vibes in this are one of my favourites. please read it if you can, because i need others to squeal about jack frost!hyunjin with me.

some of your favorite content creators from this year:

@neo-shitty @lebrookestore @xdhaven @yyxgin @chocosvt @orpheyeux @indgio @kdyism are the creators i remember reading most often this year! i haven't read here much, but if i did, these are the people who i read from! do check them out, because their writings are incredible.

#tp

[stupidusernamepolicy]

tv tag game

— list 8 shows for your followers to get to know you better. tagged by beloved mootie @michaelmandog

1.Good Omens

This is such a feel-good show for me and cleaning out my drafts made me remember how much I love it. Also a reminder that I need to finish Staged. The friendship between the authors and the ways it impacted the book and show is so important to me...

2. Breaking Bad / Better Call Saul

"oh watch it it's the best show ever" "yeah yeah sure" and then... Meth show for middle aged dads sent me on a *checks calendar* FIVE MONTH FIXATION? I need to be euthanized. Also Michael Mando. That's all.

3.Final Space

SHINED SO BRIGHT AND GONE TOO SOON. This was THE underdog adult animation and though I've separated myself from it a lot it's still one of the best out there. Space fantasy dramedy about a convict out in space that is a testament to all that adult animation can be, but often isn't. If you can stand a bit of exec-meddling awkward humor, this one is the hardest WATCH NOW on this list. Also, catboy above voiced by Steven Yeun and he goes so hard.

4.Invincible

Continuing on the thread of amazing adult animation with a much more popular entry, this is an adaptation that is so far so much better than the source material. I stayed up til 5 am binging this. It has 4 things I love: great animation, (comic) trope subversion, GORE, and Steven Yeun (again!)

5.Futurama

This show is older than me, and I never watched it growing up, yet it still feels like home whenever I watch it. If I need to cheer up and have my TV on, this is the clear choice. It's so nostalgic and has so much heart while also being really, really fucking funny.

7.Gravity Falls

Similar to Futurama: another comfort show!! It brings back so many memories, even though I watched it after its original run. One of the rare things I own official merch of (I loved it enough to pay for shipping from the US)

7.Mob Psycho 100

Obligatory singular Anime entry. This is the one anime I'd recommend to non anime watchers, as it subverts a lot of typically annoying anime tropes and is a rare entry where the adaptation is as good if not better than the source material, and yet it's AMAZING because it OOZES with love of the source material! I'm definitely biased because it's the kind of story my middle school self needed, and that my current young-adult self... also needed. It's about growing up, about how people need other people, and it rewired my brain.

8.Rise Of The TMNT

JUST LIKE FINAL SPACE, SHINED TOO BRIGHT AND GONE ENTIRELY TOO SOON!! I was a HUGE fan of 2003 series when I was a kid and this one completely reignited my love for TMNT. The animation is poppy and dynamic and tastefully stylized, the story goes from monster of the week to the absolute insanity that is the netflix movie, and it has the kind of personality that a reboot of such an old series needs and benefits from (partially also ended up being its undoing because people hate fun). Like Final Space, if you're not averse to a little cringe humor aimed at a younger generation, I have 2 words for you: MUST! WATCH!!

HONORABLE MENTIONS BECAUSE ITS HARD TO PICK

Arcane! because all that can be said about it has already been said about it. But it is fantastic and if you have not watched it yet because "its league of legends ew" and "its a cartoon" quit being a boob and go watch it.

Mrkomir Prvi! Because it's a really funny sitcom set in medieval Croatia, and it's only here because it's incredibly obscure on a global level, but it's really the kind of original TV I love to see and rarely do. They did a pandemic episode in which they called the diseased "influenzers", enough said.

Tagging! @its-me-ej, @djcranberry, @hellomingo, @lemonykleonella, @mediasploshion and @bamsara(long time no talk!! i hope this isnt a jumpscare)

No pressure, and happy reminiscing >:)

#tag games #admin rambles #long post

[seelestia]

LOL it’s ok sweetie i know you meant it in a good way <3 oh no i wouldn’t dare do that to you :((( ayato will hunt me down fr if i ever did - i'd rather not get asassinated by the shuumatsuban tq

me: “AND I EXPECT YOU TO TREAT LIA LIKE ROYALTY YOU HEAR ME PRETTY BOY???!” / heizou: “oh? pretty you say? why i’m honored, sister in law, but as you can see i’m already taken-” this menace will be so smug about it smh

DID ANYONE SAY ZHONGLI BRAINROT HOLY- YES PLEASE DO?????? :D and yes definitely can see ayato as someone who would shamelessly say stuff like “princess, i am yours just as much as you are mine” with a confident smirk smile…📱 learnt my lesson, got all that on my iPhone, crisp n clear, auto-backed up to google photos, you can't run now <3

it’s such a pretty city with a pretty bgm!! i… am actually not too sure LOL but i’m basically taking the ‘mei’ from ‘meimei’ (= younger sister, cause i’m the youngest in my family) and ‘rin’ which is a shortened version of one of my name and just pen-pineapple-apple-pen’ed them together hahah

that sounds like a very lovely morning routine to get your day started <3 ayato would order your maids to serve you your favorite beverage, freshly squeezed/brewed/mixed, along with a healthy breakfast of your preference. he’d tell you what his schedule is for the day and listens to yours, secretly planning to surprise you by taking you out for lunch <3

RIGHT??? i saw that thing and was like ‘what in the celestia is that abhorrent looking t-rex'

yes yes you understand good <3 sheesh so many people around me likes albedo??? what is it about him that just pulls people in hmmmm

tumblr can block all the blogs using the lord of geo’s theme but.

i. will. just. keep. creating. more. blogs. ;)

i already created another blog with zhongli theme again but i’m still going back and forth on whether actually posting on it would be a good idea lol …. they wouldn't….. they wouldn't ban three blogs in a row…. right…..????? ;(((( atp i don’t even mind creating more but i feel like people would be like “YOU’RE MOVING BLOGS AGAIN????” and i feel bad ;w;

dw, if ayato sends sayu, then just stack up on onigiri (/j) and screw the porch, the best pillow is ayato's chest HEKCOJKDK smth is possessing me, what is going on help

heizou understands the point, but why pass on the opportunity to get a reaction when he can? boy, why on teyvat are you testing your in-laws. (/j)

YESYES !! i shall find the time to sneak into your inbox and leave a zhongli brainrot soon, nyehehe ;D the soft spot this gentleman would have for you, uuuuu <//3 the man is the best listener ever and would literally listen and indulge you in every topic you bring up (his knowledge is as wide as the ocean, after all). i swear you're the only one who can bring out the 100% simp in me. I AM IN DANGER. (/j)

HELFLPWODK but that's super cute <3 does this mean i can call you rin jie now??? >:) is that what you call an older sister??? i had to ask my chinese classmate hfwkdksk

that is something he would do :( knowing how packed his schedule is, he'd try to make it up to his s/o by inserting his presence in your daily life as best as he can before his absence (waking you up personally, kissing your hand before he leaves, etc) — and he'd relish in the shock on your face when he manages to find some time between his schedule to have lunch with you. yes, love, don't look so surprised; this is actually him and not a clone or a prank whatsoever. AYATO COME HOME, MY TEAPOT IS WAITING FOR YOU !!

let us avoid these machines like the plagues, shall we??? KFKKWKD (/lh) but hopefully, when we get zhongli, we can climb his shield and actually do damage to the ruin hunter when it's shooting missiles <//3

if i try to go back into my mindset when i first heard of genshin through albedo, then i'd say it's because he looks super enchanting in a prince-like way??? like i vividly recall going LOOK AT THAT FLUFFY HAIR AND PRETTY EYES + he is a secretive guy with a super attractive brain (/lh)

rin jie, the way you take running away from tumblr to a whole another level 😭 have you tried emailing them to recover your acc from shadowban jail??? do they recognize your ip address and keep shadowbanning your blogs or smth like that <//3

#no but tumblr is literally keeping an eye on you atp HRLFPPWIDK #being fugitives = rin 🤝 kazuha (formerly that is) (/j) #ask box! 📬 #visitor: dearest rin! 💠

[cleverbarefoot-man-blog]

I want to call her my girlfriend

Hey barefooters, its been some time again I feel like. I think I once had the goal to at least write one sentence every day. Now since I have met my new love interest it seems like I get distracted and caught up in emotions sometimes. Like today we have spend a lot of time together, I am very pleased with the attention I got from her today, yet I made the appointment with her to call before we would go to bed, She did not honor it and it feels shit. I want to know that I can count on you as a partner, I don't want to waste my time on someone that is not serious about call appointments, I would like to be informed before if you are not gonna make it. At the same time I think there is a good reason for it and I also don't feel much of a reason to make this a battle, I just want to understand what went on. Its funny that my mother does this al the time and I tend to forget it sometimes as well, yet my brain goes: Its a romantic interest a future partner, this is the time to prove that you can be loyal. I do everything in my power to prove to her that I can be the person I want to be and I just hope that, by me always picking up the phone and honoring my appointments will eventually lead to my friends to also take this stance, since people make appointments for a reason. For me its important because I like to talk about my plans for the next day, get things in order in my head. I have a busy day tomorrow and it would have been very nice if someone is there to talk it over with. I think she does not understand the value I put in this, especially since we know each other only for 2 months now. I feel like writing at least brings me back in connection with my own value's and not to expect or project mine upon other people, I guess I'm getting a bit insecure since I don't know what is happening, so more in concern then blame. Sleep well everyone, tomorrow will be another "present" <3

#journaling #thoughts

[gratitudegainsclub]

Sunday Jan 29 2023

- grateful to start off the day on a walk to Whole Foods to complete an errand and enjoying a peaceful weekend morning! My audiobook has been keeping me great company and the light rain didn’t bother me at all. I also stopped for a moment to listen to the clamor of bird song in a tree at one point. Life is so peaceful and beautiful outside of school <3

- grateful to have gotten some good studying done and realize that I’m quite on track! Finally got. A good rhythm down and I can’t believe I’ll be done with didactic in 2 months! Grateful for how far I’ve come. “We can do hard things” is so true

- grateful for Andy to go to the bball game together again. It actually brings me so much joy how many we get to go to and how we’ve got the system down (and so has Stanford athletics). The excitement, the talent, the environment is all so much fun. I love watching our team and how dedicated and athletic they are. I hope they win NCAA this year!

- grateful for walking around campus afterwards (Hoover tower lol) and appreciating the buildings andy could enter with Trevor’s student ID. Makes me realize how lucky I am to be on the inside of Stanford campus. And cool to think about how old the institution this place is, and how many generations of people it has educated. What a legacy, and honor to receive such a colorful, rich education from somewhere like Stanford!!!

- GRATEFUL I GOT INVITED BACK TO THE CERAMICS CLASS OFF THE WAITLIST!!!

- grateful for mom and dad caring about us so much even though dad obnoxiously sent 4 emails in a row and instructed “please read all 4 emails on this chain”, I’m grateful they are involved because they care and also that they’re healthy and functional!! I pray their health continues to stay well and they continue to live a long happy healthy life PLEASEEE

- grateful for bonding over CoC with Clayton and Andy hehe

- grateful for sharing a cookie w Andy at Coupa cafe. Simple pleasures

- grateful for life! Today I have felt very content with life!!! Even though I spent a lot of time chilling at home listening to my book, previous versions of me (and some parts of me did for a bit) would have felt antsy that I wasn’t doing something productive but I felt very fulfilled as content.

- grateful for Andy driving everywhere and embracing our dynamics as passenger princess and also how far he’s come in trying new foods and also his big brain always navigating us back to the car. Luv

[mxnordberg]

its over its happening its too late you cant stop it you could have prevented this why didnt you listen? you didnt listen

[Image ID: A digital illustration of a skull’s eye-socket, positioned so that you can see the eyeball and the tendons that hold it in place, against a bright red background with white hatch-marks. Tiny fruit fly insects swarm in the space, behind the eye, between the muscles, and over the reddened eye itself. Tears well at the bottom of the socket, the pupil bulging forward. Text over the skull’s forehead at the top of the frame reads “Nightmare Eyes”. End ID]

#horror art #eye horror #body horror #insects #unsettling #brainweird #creepy #art tag #am bringing it back in honor of my brain doing this to me again <3 #but i'm Venting and not trying to trigger someone else so if there's some other relevent tag lmk #i do actually have prints of this one on etsy tho lol

[dewdrop-writes]

Hello hello :> I am once again dropping by to say I love u and ur works 💞 I read ur most recent about SAGAU Zhongli and reader and I LOVE IT SO MUCH!! May I request a story about how Zhongli made Liyue recognize the creator? Did he reveal himself as Rex Lapiz again and the ppl were just shocked cuz who knew Rex Lapiz was the creators lover?! I like to think that the creator would call him Morax since it's his name and its kinda more intimate than Rex or Zhongli but they also call each other dear/dearest (with creator persuading him a lot to drop the "your grace" thing and call them by name or petname) I am same with previous anon and you, the Zhongli brainrot is ✨✨

I'm glad you liked it!!! And you are so big brained, those are epic ideas my friend!! Soft Zhongli makes my heart soar - I hope you like this!! For context, this is related to THIS fic

Length: 1. 3 k

Reborn from the ashes

The grounds of Liyue rumbled in discontent as Rex Lapis, the former archon of geo considered his options. He needed to help you - needed to make the cruel world pay for hurting you - but that could wait. Before that, he needed to ensure that the world would revere you. And he would start with Liyue - the very city he had built from the ground up just to honor you.

You.

The way you trembled at the smallest of noises, unable to suppress your flinches at sudden movements broke his ancient heart of stone. He was furious - not at you of course - never at you. He was furious at those who had rendered you into such a state.

With a heavy heart, he knew what he must do. He had stepped down as an archon - but he would take up the mantle for you once more. He would bear the weight of his responsibilities to ensure your happiness. To ease your burdens.

He had sheltered you in his temporary abode as the citizen Zhongli, providing you with the fineries he could procure - but you deserved more.

"Morax," the way you whispered his name late into the night, your cold hands trembling as the lightning crashing in the stormy skies reminded you too much of the foolish electro archon - it molded his name, the name that carried war and bloodshed within it - into something gentle, something lovable.

"Your grace, I will ensure that the world falls to their knees before you," he promised, kneeling before you in fanatic worship as you ran your hands through his hair so gently, so lovingly.

"Morax, my dear - please call me by my name - you have more than earned that right," you would continuously tell him, but he could never bring himself to sully your divine name with his brute of a tongue - you may have called him worthy, you may have given him the honor of your gentle caresses, but he was more than unworthy.

He had so foolishly shrugged off the divine responsibility of his duty as an archon - the duty you had granted him so graciously. He had been ungrateful and cruel in his many long years. How could you expect him to disrespect you even more? He had no right to.

You approached him quietly, as he stood by the window, planning his next move. Your silky robes dragged behind you, a gentle shuffle against the wooden floor as your bare feet neared his figure.

"Morax?" you addressed him fondly, your gentle hand intertwining with his. He turned to you, his honey-colored eyes melting at the sweetness of your voice.

"Yes, your grace?" he asked, eagerly awaiting any words that might fall from your perfect lips, any order for your loyal dragon. The beautiful sound of your breathy laugh warmed him to his core, a beautiful symphony that could not be matched by even the most masterful of ballads.

"(Name) - I've told you to call me that so many times, my dear," you playfully chided him, your eyes meeting his, the happy glint not going unnoticed by Morax. "You may have to tell me again, my dearest grace," he replied, placing a chaste kiss upon your knuckles as he brought your hand to his lips.

You shook your head, a smile still lingering upon your face.

"What were you thinking about?"

He brushed the back of your hand gently with his thumb. "Nothing much - only about how to make my grand return as Rex Lapis."

The clouds above Yujing terrace were heavy - concerning enough to call forth the crowds on the anniversary of Rex Lapis' untimely demise - something only a few select figures of higher authority knew to be a farce. Said figures had gathered around nonetheless - the Tianquan stood gracefully, watching the clouds curiously with her assistant by her side - she had been spoken to by Morax in her dreams, telling her to prepare for a big event - and she had. The entirety of the Qixing was stood behind her, awed by the sight.

Suddenly, the clouds parted, allowing a single spotlight of sun's warm embrace to shine upon the terrace - courtesy of you, eager to give your beloved some of the fanfare he deserved.

Speaking of whom - Rex Lapis burst through the clouds in all his draconic glory, bringing forth a wave of awed gasps - even from the Tianquan, who had not quite expected a return of this caliber from the archon she revered.

He descended - as he always did on this very date until his unfortunate demise, landing gloriously with the ground beneath him thundering. What awed the crowds even more, was the figure perched upon his back, crowned in beautiful gold and amber, looking every bit as divine as you were. Morax bowed, allowing you to slide off of him gently onto the ground.

You had went along with his plans of returning, of allowing him to introduce you to the crowds of Liyue as their divine Creator, but as you felt the gazes fall upon you, you could not help but feel the surge of anxiety wash upon you - reminded of the way cruel eyes and harsh words brandished you an imposter - all too eager to maim and banish you from this world.

Sensing your unease, Rex Lapis, or Morax as you so gently called him - took it as his cue to transform into his more human form - earning another round of shocked whispers as he morphed, his horns and tail proudly on display - the parts of him you had so lovingly caressed and reassured him the beauty of when he himself could not see it.

With a deep, echoing voice, he decided to announce your presence. "I, Rex Lapis, call the people of Liyue to grant the divine Creator the warmest of welcomes," he bellowed, gently taking your hand in his to reassure you that he was there. Your dragon, your knight - he would be by your side to protect you fiercely.

You watched in awe as the nation was brought to their knees, your divine presence and godly aura undeniable as you radiated with joy beside the archon of Liyue himself.

He was not one to deny custom, so he too, fell to his knees before you, holding your hands in his so very gently, his adoring gaze forever focused on your beautiful visage.

His devotion - his adoring and all-consuming love for you was not a secret to the people of Liyue, as long as Rex Lapis had lived, he had lived to serve glory to your presence - what they didn't expect, was the equally matching adoration in the eyes of the creator themselves.

Your laugh, ringing through the terrace, calling forth an awed silence of bewitched followers, the way you stroked the cheek of the Rex himself ever so gently, before tugging him to his feet.

"Morax, my dearest, you're so dramatic," you teased quietly, but each ear strained to hear you nonetheless, eager for anything that you might say or do.

He smiled gently.

"I'm glad it amuses you, my dearest (Name)."

Your heart soared as your name left his lips and quickly, you threw your arms around his neck, seizing his lips in a gentle kiss before an audience of thousands - declaring to an audience of thousands that Liyue - its people and most importantly, its archon, were beloved by the Creator - accepted in all their glory and beauty.

The last of the clouds parted, allowing a warm light to sweep over the nation of contracts - your gentle kiss signing your name at the bottom of the page - sealing your place as the patron of Liyue and lover of the Rex Lapis for all to see.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin cult au #genshin x you #zhongli x reader #morax x reader #yandere zhongli

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not so sure. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

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

Oh, you loved this man. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

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

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

“I thought he was cool before.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

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

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

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

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

Of course. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it’s true. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I kinda do—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

epi-epilogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #mine

[witch-hazels-musings]

because I need that good loving can I request Diluc and Zhongli reaction to seeing there SO dressed up for a formal event even though its not something they really like doing but because they dont want to make Diluc/Zhongli look bad in front of all these other people they put all their effort into looking like the human embodiment of attractiveness.

the way you look tonight 

(okay so truth time - I thought about you the whole time I was writing this and forgot you requested it -- I hope the love of these boys reminds you that you are lovely <3!) 

Warning -> SFW, fluff / comfort (cussing(1))(self-conscience reader)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Zhongli ⚘, Diluc

Zhongli

He finds your normal style of dress unique and interesting, it’s unlike most of the people who make up Liyue’s landscape and it’s independently you

When someone lives their life in the way they want to, that's what Zhongli admires the most about people, about humans 

He doesn’t mind what you wear, he would want anyone to meet you, to see you regardless because through his eyes he sees your attractiveness - it’s in the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you react when something makes you excited or when he gives you a gift you don’t expect - how could he hide you away and not let others see the way you glow? 

You look at yourself for the tenth time in the large circular mirror. An hour had gone by and you still felt unusual, out of place, like a fraud in this attire. For the, you’ve lost count, time you fuss with the fabric that sits against your stomach, tugging on it, wondering if you should leave it open or closed. The most frustrating thing about this is that you had no idea how to wear this damn thing. 

Your head falls onto the vanity and you do your best to hold it all in. With a deep breath, you go back to messing with your hair and face. The ticking clock behind you reminds you that time is not your friend no matter how much you want it to stop. 

This is so hard for you, of course, you want to be there for Zhongli - he was there for everything you ever did, it was beyond time to repay him - but you just couldn’t find the confidence to be proud of what you’d done. So, shaping the image in your brain into a distorted representation of what you wished you looked like, you stood from your small chair and walked toward the door of the bedroom. 

Your shoes click on the hardwood floor which is something you hate, the thought of people hearing you coming only to see what appears from the source of the sound makes your skin crawl. Still, you pressed on, and that’s when your eyes fell onto the immaculate figure that stands near the entrance. His tall, elegant frame is so intense it knocks the wind from your lungs as if someone just punched you in the stomach. How can I stand next to that … you panic and turn to retreat back into the safety of the bedroom when your arms collide with a small table in the hallway.

Objects fall to the ground and, in a ridiculous display of your clumsy nature, you juggle one of the more breakable objects before catching it moments from shattering on the floor below. 

“Whew …” You exclaim, bringing it close to your body. “Sorry, little guy didn’t mean to do that.” You wince, patting its side before place it back onto its home and picking up the other objects from the ground. 

Long fingers enter your field of vision, startled you stand only to see Zhongli reaching down to assist you. 

“Ah, sorry.” You express, crossing your arms after putting the items in your hands half-hazard onto the surface. 

“No need to apologize, are you injured?” He asks, standing himself and reminding you how tall he is. 

“My pride, maybe.” You share, laughing through your embarrassment. 

“Too much of that and we might find ourselves in trouble anyway.” He looks down at you, his eyes scanning, interested and making you shift under their gaze. “You …” 

“I know... I look so strange, and,” you begin, fussing with the top again, “I can’t seem to get this right.” Turning around you show him what you were talking about and how it seems far too loose. 

He laughs softly and you feel his hands run underneath the edge of the fabric and coming to rest at the wrap at your waist. “Let me assist you.” 

“Thank you …” He’s so close to you, his hands move expertly as they work to correct your inadequacies, eyes compassionate, patient as they always are. 

“This outfit suits you.”

“Does it really? I look so … I mean this isn’t something I would normally wear. In fact,”  You think for a minute before continuing, “I can’t remember the last time I dressed up for something other than adventuring. It’s not practical to go running through ruins in this type of getup.” You explain, lifting your arms and watching how the fabric slips down to your elbows before sliding back to your wrists as they collide with your legs. 

“That could turn things into quite the challenge I’d imagine.” 

“Exactly.” 

“Nevertheless, you will turn quite a many heads upon our arrival.” 

“That’s what I'm afraid of …” You mumble, forgetting that he is close enough to hear you. 

“Y/N, need I remind you how spectacular you look.” 

You bite your lip but your insecurities make you speak anyway, “I just don’t see how I have the right to stand next to you, I don’t want you to be … ashamed of me.” The end of your sentence trails off as you look to the ground. Zhongli doesn’t respond until his hands stop fixing your gown. With comforting fingers he presses against the soft underbelly of your chin, lifting your head at the angle it should be. 

“While I am beyond sure you can hear me, I hope that you can trust me as well when I tell you that every day I am honored to stand at your side. There is nothing in this world which compares to your beauty, in fact, you are more radiant than the moon itself.” He leans in to place a kiss against your forehead. 

“You don’t wish I was … more attractive?” 

“I cannot wish for a thing that holds no bearing on reality.” 

“Mmm.” 

“If my words have not reached you, perhaps I can better express my truth through actions …” He pulled you flush against him, his hands now wrapped around your hips and eyes focused on your lips. 

“Aa! Wait … no, I believe you.” Embarrassed, you push away from him and make your way toward the door. “Let’s just go because if I get out of this thing I won’t be putting it back on.” You huff, smoothing out the wrinkles. 

“Shall we?” He reaches for your hand and easily you take it. 

“Let’s do this.” With a lighthearted Zhongli, you exit your home and head toward the lively sounds drifting over the water. 

Diluc

He already thinks you are so incredibly attractive no matter what you wear - he knows you’re one for practicality, from your actions to your clothes, you are ready to go and prepared for whatever will come your way - a trait he admires

There is something adorable about the way you fall out of bed in the morning and, in some cases, take less time than he does to get ready - it can come in handy where there much work to be done 

He never asks for you to be more than what you are - he honestly wouldn’t care what other people thought about you, all that matters is you believe him when he tells you how good you look or how you make his heart clench 

So when he sees you descend the stairs in an outfit, a formal, totally out-of-the-absolute-norm outfit, he’s stunned 

“Crap.” You say, flinging the jewelry you couldn’t decide on anyway back toward the dresser. You’d taken far too long to get ready, even though you started hours ago, it still wasn’t enough to make you feel confident and finished. Glancing at your reflection one last time, you gave up with a heavy sigh and made your way down the hallway. 

You could already see everyone else in their formal attire ready to go, even the attendants looked better than you did. When you caught sight of Diluc your steps slowed and for a solid minute to you debated about turning around and hiding under the comfortable covers of the bed you loathed getting out of this morning. 

“Ah, there you are! Are you ready?” Adaline shouted from below you and like a scene from a nightmare everyone turned to look up at you. You stumbled backward and felt your chest tighten, eyes scanning each face as you debated on your next action. When they fell onto Diluc’s stoic eyes, you felt a little bit of relief and knew all you had to do was make it down to him. 

Slowly, you started again and, with a deathlike grip on the railing, you made your way down the stairs. Diluc met you at the bottom, his hand extended to take yours. 

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t figure out what would pair well with … this thing.” You gestured at your outfit and looked behind him, thankful that people had already started to leave through the front door. “Do I … look okay?” 

With an awkward smile, you waited for his answer, hopeful that he wouldn’t have to struggle so hard to lie to you. I mean, when you were able to see him in his suit, the way it perfectly fits around his toned body, the fabric tucked in all the right places, the sleeves just long enough to give one a peek of skin underneath - there was no way you compared to him. 

He looked at you for so long your heart started to feel like a thousand knives were stabbing you in all directions. He hates this … he can’t believe that I’m such a disaster. The thoughts circulate in your brain and just as your about to rush back up the stairs and hide he lifts your fingers to his lips and kisses them with so much love. 

“I apologize … I’m just a bit startled is all.” Your stomach drops to your feet at his words. 

“Archons, is it that bad? Did I put something on wrong … or?” 

“Nothing like that,” He kisses your palm and the action makes your spine turn hot, “You look unbelievable, is what I wanted to say.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Yes.” He looks at you but you shy away from his eyes. “Y/N, do you trust me?” 

“What … of course I trust you.” You reply, flabbergasted. 

“Then trust me now.” He pulls you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around your neck, his hand resting at the back of your head. “I’ve never seen someone as brilliant as you.” 

Fueled by your emotions, you return his hug, squeezing your arms around his waist and doing your best not to let your face be ruined by the tears that want to fall from stinging eyes. “Thank you, I’ll trust you on this … today.” 

“I don’t have any issues reminding you again and again.” Shouting outside tells you that it’s now or never and, as much as you don’t want to, your arms release each other. “Are you ready?” He asks, offering you his arm, and with a deep inhale and sharp nod, you take it and walk through the doors. 

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