#bc the thought of doing a degree that disappointed her (at a time when my sister was doing great) terrified me

[hella1975]

feel free to ignore this if you feel like it's too personal, but i just wanted to say that reading some of the posts you've made about your relationship with your mother has really like. helped? in a weird way? bc i know everyone's experience is different but my mum has always treated me as if i'm somehow fundamentally bad in a way my siblings aren't, and it can be so so hard to cope with feeling like the one person who is meant to know you best is convinced that you're actually a terrible person. so reading your posts where you mention something sort of similar to that (not exactly the same but near enough) is really really reassuring bc i've been following you for ages and you seem like a really sweet and protective person and it's like (weirdly) 'okay, if other people have that experience too maybe it's not just me and maybe i'm not the worst, actually' lol

this is actually such a touching ask to receive! to date my relationship with my mum is the most complicated relationship ive ever had with a person and i honestly wholeheartedly believe that will never change even if i have a family. she's such a complex, tortured woman and she has such a temper and she's said such awful things to me, but we're also complete mirrors of each other. growing up my mum recurringly says she thought she was 'mad and bad' - that's a phrase of hers she uses a lot. mad and bad and here i am feeling all those things she felt and it's heartbreaking because oftentimes she's the reason i feel that way, or i feel that way and she makes me feel worse. im constantly torn between guilt and shame and anger, or love so strong i cry over it. it's taken me a long time to accept i will always feel these emotions for my mother and through it she's my favourite person in the world as well as the person who can hurt me worse than anyone, and knowing you're not alone in that, that it doesn't make you a bad child to acknowledge these things, is really reassuring so thank you x

#even answering this ask made me feel guilty bc me and my mum have been getting on really well atm #and when we're getting on we get on so well like idc if it's biased i do genuinely believe we have a stronger connection than most #but god she just gets so angry and even when we get on i cant just forget the things she's said to me #she spent the entirety of my first year of uni making me feel like i was a fundamentally cold person who was bad at loving #and coming from the person who - like you said - is supposed to know me better than anyone it killed me to hear #and it's something im going to spend possibly the rest of my life insecure about even though she's not said it in months #it's so unfair and i hate myself for holding onto things and then i get angry at her for expecting me to let them go #she has no idea how much i value her opinion like i WANT to impress her and make her proud #im killing myself over this economics degree and i didnt HAVE to do it but i knew it would make her happy so i did #bc the thought of doing a degree that disappointed her (at a time when my sister was doing great) terrified me #idk relationships between mothers and children are such landmines #there's resentment and rage there but there's so so much love #ask

[vesemirsexual]

What is even more disappointing about how game!Ciri is written is that CDPR Can give us compelling and complex “ trauma and grief can cause you to repeat the cycle of violence” arcs for characters like Syanna and Lambert but apparently completely forgot what a huge part of Ciri’s character that is

the first time I played I thought she got amnesia as well because of how much of her fiery temper was toned down, and how her trauma is hardly mentioned ( and it's not like the characters in this game trauma are completely ignored it is talked about in some quests) I wanna see what she really would have done had she seen Emhyr again

I feel like game Ciri had two distinct groups they were aiming for: people who found Geralt even more appealing because of the fatherhood angle so they had to work his actual kid in AND hot girl fan service.

The thing is, if they gave her too much personality or depth, she wouldn’t have fit into these groups well and therefore people would’ve found her annoying and/or off-putting. People already do sometimes but not to the degree that they would’ve if they even BEGAN to touch on the absolute shitstorm that is Ciris psyche after everything.

Also realistically, they made the Witcher games centre about Geralt bc he appeals to their large majority male fan base: combatant, dark mysterious tragic past, ripped, attractive, fucks hot women, is a good guy while still also getting to do badass things and beat people up. If you look in depth at Witcher fans on different platforms when they talk about him, a lot of dudes are very much “oh my god he’s literally me”. Ciri could never be the focus because she wouldn’t appeal to that same group, and we know that every time a game is released people throw the weirdest bitch fits about female characters, especially main ones.

This is also why Ciri is made an attractive character, when realistically that tiny little facial scar they’ve given her is nothing, she’s spent her developmental years on the run/being attacked/under extreme stress so I honestly can’t imagine her being a tall skinny but also hourglass woman with one or two scars, and put her in a cropped shirt (such a bad choice it’s mildly hysterical).

I think Lambert and Syanna are also a really good example of how people handle angry traumatised characters too, because Lambert gets a lot more leeway than Syanna (and I say this as a big fan of both!) Like there are literally people out there and on this webbed site who say she is pure evil, one of the evilest people in the Witcher for being a fucked up mean trauma victim who hurt a Poor Little Meow Meow (Higher vampire with decades of life experience more than her, incredibly possessive, responded to emotional manipulation by violently attacking an entire city). Like Lambert literally brags about axii’ing a guy to shoot himself in the head with his own crossbow.

Ciri got done very dirty, but I see how and why it happened. Book Ciri deserves rights but unfortunately I think Games Ciri will always be how people perceive her, and therefore portray her in fic, art and other work predominantly (praying same doesn’t happen with TWN Ciri). We’ve been robbed of such a complex, angry young woman and I mourn it 🙏

Edit: I can’t even touch on the Emhyr thing because the fact she can reconcile with him is honestly mildly fucking horrific. Like even if they’ve removed the nasty ass incest factor, that man quite literally destroyed her entire world and was willing to do so further in order to get his way. The fact she can call him father in one ending is genuinely vomit inducing and so disrespectful to Ciri as a character (also the audacity to play down that Ciri literally sees Yen as her mama WHILE playing devils advocate for War McCrime is a whole choice).

#sorry I rambled! #but you’re right anon ur right #also this post has swinging at a hornets nest elements but I do not careeeeewwe #katie txt #asks

[lexsnotdead]

Sometimes i forget that Delilah/Breanna aren't 100% canon to everyone bc of "ambiguous relationship" part and some people not wanting to see them as bi & lesbian

And it drives me insane

Everytime i see fic where Delilah or Breanna call each other friends while being alone (or in their own thoughts) I want to bite 😭😭 Something or someone

I sit here and think "Breanna sacrificing 10+ years or her life to save Delilah from her death AND falling on her knees for her is so friendly fr"

I'm okay with people who think that they're way too toxic or something/"Delilah can't love" but Breanna is a walking fruit basket. She radiates "gay".

~~~~~~~~

Sorry for whole essay about Bree and Del but my anonymous ass trusts that you'd understand me at least to some degree bc you ship them

Hope ur doing well, sending best wishes for the week lol

HI ANON YOU CANNOT IMAGINE THE AMOUNT OF SEARCHING I DID FOR THIS. anyway. okay... deep breath... yeah, i know, it drives me insane as well. although i haven't come across a Hot Take like that in ages, most likely because i was blocking on sight for this. "not 100% canon to everyone" have we played the same game? maybe it's easy for me to say because i myself am a wlw and i KNOW yuri when i see one. it is really hard for me to imagine how can one look at the way breanna and delilah talk to each other and fail to spot the profound pinning.

• delilah saying "murderer! you can't understand what she meant to me", when you kill breanna in front of her. • delilah saying "you're the only one i trust". • delilah swinging her sword at you with "this is for what you did to breanna", in the last mission. • a with in the royal conservatory saying "breanna was with delilah when you were sucking on your mother's tit. it's not a joke to them" • breanna's surprise when she spots corvo "a man? here?!" is truly a Peak Lesbian Moment. - i could go on and on.

OHHH AND THE LETTER. THE LETTER!! it makes me lose my mind every time i read it!! whatever breanna had going on in there is more lesbian than eating pussy.

"When we can't talk, I write. There are things only you will understand. (...) If we were together, I could say more! It is as if I can see beyond the air, into another time or place. (...) Oh, Delilah, strange and beautiful whispers are carried on the breeze. I am forever grateful of being your instrument." >>> i'm madly in love with you.

how can you read this and go hmm yeah they were definitely besties! MUST EVERYTHING BE DIRECT FOR YOU PEOPLE?? sorry to disappoint, but that's not how sapphics express attraction. learn to read between the lines. because this, too, is yuri.

and the wiki page is to blame for the "ambiguous" part. BECAUSE HARVEY SMITH DIDN'T SAY "AMBIGUOUS". HE DID NOT. harvey confirmed their relationship some time back in 2016, but since then he deleted all of his tweets and we were left with no elaboration. and as for now it is almost impossible to find sources. "almost". he-he. wink. i saved that from a tumblr post god knows how long ago and couldn't find the op. if anyone knows who to credit for this, i'd be grateful.

does "i totally assumed that" equal uncertainty? maybe my non-native ass is missing something, but it all seems very clear to me.

which makes "some people not wanting to see them as bi & lesbian" part even more frustrating. they are both indisputably queer! and that being stated by the dev and not in the game itself is not an excuse to deny their sexuality and ship breanna with men.

harvey's tweet and in-game lines combined should be enough evidence to prove that delilah and breanna were, in fact, lovers, and if anyone says otherwise, it's a conscious choice to deny/ignore it for whatever reasons, not because there isn't enough evidence for their relationship. believe me, anon, i share every drop of irritation you have in double.

and "delilah can't love" is another very big topic where i could talk for hours and i would rather not make this reply any longer than it has to be. i already ranted quite a lot here haha. anyway, ty for the ask! :] i'm always happy to write mini-essays about delilah and breanna. i hope you have a great day as well!!

#historians will say that they were best friends #lex.txt

[hauntedbythenarrative]

HI! Sorry for bothering you but i love your Alicent content and webweaving and i loved the quotes you use !.

Do you mind sharing some recs of the books you use for the Alicent web weaving?.

Have a good day!

hi🌸

not a bother at all!! actually the quotes I found aren't from me reading books but just following poetry and lit blogs here on tumblr. usually when I see something that makes me think of her I just save the quote. I have thought before of reading the whole book or poetry collection but I have a pretty long reading list and I try to read in english as much as possible, but I live in italy, so it's not always easy to find books translated or written in english.

if I can attempt to answer your ask. I might say some bullshit...but, in hs I studied ancient greek lit and italian lit pretty hard (it was kinda the point of the hs I attended) but it's been 8 years since I graduated, so my memory isn't perfect. I think alicent mainly gives off 3 vibes: greek tragedies, epic poems and religious writings (but ik nothing about those. there's a whole world of writing inspired by that tho). I feel like medea (for the vengeance theme, not the "kill your children" theme) and antigone would be a good start. I'd like to put the iliad in as well only bc it has range, but you need a lot of patience and focus. I'm kinda biased and I think everyone should know to some degree the iliad...said that, last year I read dead blondes and bad mothers. it doesn't directly link to alicent but it explores the figures of daughters, wifes and mothers (in horror) and sometimes I felt like ,,okay, that's why some people could hate alicent bc of this patriarchal concept. it's a pretty easy, and I my opinion, sometimes basic feminist essay, but I mostly read novels, so that's the most you can get from me (for now) when it comes to essays. I'd also like to throw shakespeare in but I haven't read him in such a long time. don't wanna say sth potentially wrong but alicent makes me think a lot of ophelia (it sounds basic, ik).

I'm really thankful for the love and I hope this answer isn't a bummer. I'd love to give book recs but what i've read last year and what I read this year isn't v alicent-coded. but I'm sure the more I'll get into classics (again) the more I'll find something that fits. I'm just not in the most intellectual mood rn lol.

so, yeah, sorry if it is disappointing :((

#i'm also pretty sure that when i'll publish this ask i'll remember other things to mention uuuugh #emma answers

[tired-biscuit]

Ever think about kibas dad? How he ran away from the clan bc his mom scared him off? When did that man leave? No father figure now he gotta be the most macho man ever.

i love this ask, thank you for sending it. my thoughts are under the cut, i hope you don’t mind the headcanons i’ve come up with!!

yeah, i actually have already written about kiba’s feelings revolving around his dad’s absence in a fic of mine that i finished last year.

i like to think that not having a father figure around would have bothered him mostly in his childhood years, when he’s still young enough that he lives at home and is still sort of figuring out how to find himself; especially if you consider the fact that he’s the only man left in the house as a result.

to me, kiba strikes me as a ‘stereotypical’ boy. he likes ‘manly’ things and he wants to do ‘manly’ stuff and have ‘manly’ hobbies, if you get what i mean?

he wants to go fishing, and wants to learn how to be the one that fixes things around the house without having to ask for help. he wants to learn how to shave without cutting his cheek every single time, and to go camping in the wilderness, and to just be able to understand this entirely male side of him (both mentally and physically) that his mom and sister can’t really help him deal with sometimes, because they can’t really relate with it first hand, even if they do try to understand it better for his sake.

being the only boy in a women-only household, he wants his masculinity to stand out. consequently, he wants his dad to be his hero and his role model and whatnot, not his mom, just because he’s still young and he relates more to his old man at that time (even though the only thing they have in common is that they’re the same gender.)

it’s an outright silly way of thinking if you ask me, perhaps even old fashioned to some degree, but you can’t really blame him, he’s practically still just a kid. and luckily for him, he loses that mentality by the time he reaches adulthood, or at best when he hits the end of puberty.

i think that’s also the time when he starts to cherish his mom more and all that she does for him. he also lands on common ground with his sister, now that he’s more mature and understands her better.

but yeah, i do think kid kiba has always had this amazing image of his dad set in his head even though the fact that he went completely AWOL on him disappoints him more than he tends to admit. after all, loyalty is a trait that he respects the most in a person because he’s immensely loyal himself. he doesn’t just ‘give up’ when things get bad — it’s literally not in his blood. and the fact that he shares said blood with someone who’s a ‘coward’ in his eyes so to speak, repulses him greatly by the time he’s grown into a man.

though by saying that he doesn’t relent, i don’t mean that he’d be pushy for his parents to stay together even if it just wouldn’t work between them, of course. sure, kiba’s stubborn like a bull and is incredibly determined (sometimes overwhelmingly so), but he’s also intuitive and surprisingly emotionally smart. he can read the room (he’s just blunt and honest to the point that he comes across as mean and inconsiderate in most situations, and even then it’s done purely by choice), so imo, he could have handled his parents getting divorced completely fine at the end of the day.

so yeah, he doesn’t mind having divorced parents. the problem that he has with his father isn’t that he left, per se, it’s rather the way he left that bothers him. that he just… picked up his stuff and ran as far as his feet were willing to carry him instead of being direct and sorting it out bravely like most inuzuka tend to do, ya know? it shatters that perfect, strong, courageous image that he’s always painted of his dad, who is of course; a man, much like he is himself and he definitely does not want to represent cowardice!

but at the end of the day, he’s got his mom and his sister who he’s super close with now. and while he does seem to be pretty content with that by the time he’s older, that entire comment he made in shippuden made it seem like he is (or at least used to be) upset/disappointed by his dad pulling the ‘i’m just going to the store to get some milk, brb’ move on him and his sibling, which is to be expected of course..….…..

if anything else, i think besides the bitter feelings, the absence of a father figure would give him the motivation and mental push to strive to be the best one he could be for his own children, if he had any. it’s definitely a coping mechanism that i see working well with his personality.

and btw, that doesn’t mean that tsume didn’t do a great job at raising both him and hana or that he doesn’t love his mom to bits. she’s the type of woman to obtain both parental figures and absolutely rocks them whilst doing so. truly a badass mom!!

also, i will always stand by the fact that kiba eventually grew into the role of becoming a momma’s boy one way or another.

#biscuit mail #kiba

[spacecowboyhotch]

summary: a little time jump in this series— javier does blue the favor of taking her to the record store.

pairing: f!reader (blue) x javier peña

warnings: 18+/nsfw/MINORS DNI (this fic is 18+ only though this blurb is sfw)

word count: 1524

an: it’s the 10th (acts of service) aka BLUE SCOOPS DAY. no chapter this month bc of @doctorsteths-fluffyfeb but i decided to give y’all this. this takes place about 3 months after Blue’s arrival in Laredo and a month or so after she and Javi finally meet (soon i promise). thanks for reading my friends!

fluffy february masterlist | misc. masterlist

Your stomach has been in knots since the moment you woke up and you feel stupid. You’ve been alone with Javier before and here you are having a panic attack over him driving you to the record store. Granted, you were nervous that day he’d picked you up to go to the funeral home, but never like this. This feels different, like…more. You readjust your top and hair more times than you can count in the mirror and that’s exactly what you’re doing when he knocks at your door.

When you open the door Javier can’t help but think about how beautiful you look. It’s almost all he thinks about when he’s with you— that and this is all he will have. Longing looks, favors, and dinner’s with you and his father. This is all it’ll ever be because he won’t do this to you.

“Javier? You ready?” You say a little breathlessly, his intense gaze warming your cheeks.

He clears his throat, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, “Yeah, you?”

“Mhmm. Coffee,” You press the warm to-go cup into his hand similarly to the last time he picked you up.

And just like last time, when he takes a sip it’s made perfectly.

The drive to the record store is 20 minutes, it sits on the other edge of town and the ride starts out awkward as he fiddles with the radio dial, trying to find something to fill the silence. He quickly learns that even with a melody in the background that his heart is beating so loudly he’s afraid you can hear it.

God he hates this.

Not being in control, confidence so low it's scraping the gates of hell— neither are something he’s not used to. In Colombia he had to be born of those things to get shit done, to simply stay alive. But his usual smoke and mirrors of a badge and sex appeal don’t work here with you. He doesn’t know how to keep you at bay, and he’s sure as hell doesn’t want to. But he will. He will do this right even if it kills him.

“So why Blue?” He asks suddenly, the burn to fill the silence becoming too much. He feels your eyes on him immediately, and tries to picture what expression’s on your face. Probably surprised, with your eyebrows arched and eyes wide, your plush mouth hanging open.

He tacks on quickly, “I know that you’re always wearing something blue. A shirt, a dress, a bandana. But why the nickname?

You continue to gape at him for a moment, a little in shock. He noticed that? He’s been…looking at you? The thought makes that familiar ache at the apex of your thighs blossom, the heat he always brings to your skin rises a few degrees.

“Oh,” You say finally, clearing your throat as you look down and run your hands over the blue blouse that you’re wearing today. “It’s my favorite color…it was my grandfather’s too.”

His face falls, and he can't help but look over at you, “I shouldn’t have asked, I didn't mean to bring that up for you.”

When did this become so hard for him? He’s always cared for the women he interacted with, no matter their status or occupation, a soft spot created by his mother and the way she raised him. But this? He’s drowning in you, struggling to stay afloat in a simple conversation. Stumbling every time he tries a gesture he thinks will pan out as caring or charming.

“It’s fine,” You reassure him, and you have the urge to reach out to touch him— instead, you grip your coffee cup tighter.

“I’m sorry.”

“It's alright, Javier, really.”

More silence. This was not going well, and you can’t help but be disappointed. The back and forth between you and Javier makes no sense to you. He takes a leap and then several steps back, leaving you to chase after him. Doesn’t he know that you’ll take him as he is? You guess not, you haven’t said it in so many words but he has to feel doesn’t he?

“Thank you for bringing me here. It means a lot,” You murmur as he parks the car outside the store.

It’s simple and small, a hand painted sign that reads ‘Frankie’s’ hung up above the floor to ceiling windows. Even from the car you can see rows upon rows of records.

“Don’t mention it. Good to go?”

“Sure.”

The way you light up when you see the jazz section in Frankie’s is better than all the wonders in the world to Javier. You let out a little squeal, looking up at him with such a genuine excitement that he can’t help but grin back at you. It's even better to hear you ramble, plying him with information about artists and yourself without him having to say it word. This feels the most you, like you've finally forgotten about whatever makes you nervous around him and let go.

“My grandfather got me into records, you know. It was his thing, he hated tapes. He was a good cook, a terrible baker which is where I come in, but he's taught me everything I know about proper cooking. And every time he would cook for us, which was every night, he’d have a record going. We’d dance in the kitchen sometimes together. It felt like he had hundreds of them, he had at least one for every week of the year. But it was incredible, he was incredible.”

“He sounds like he was a lot of fun. I’m sure you miss him very much.”

You're thumbing through a section, pulling out a record that has Chet Baker sprawled across it in white letters, “He taught me to live, regardless of the circumstances. We were dealt a pretty shitty hand with my grandmother but all things considered, he found happiness.”

“You had a lot to do with that happiness I bet.”

You glance up at him, breath catching at his proximity. When had he gotten so close?

“You think so?” You ask softly, your gaze distracted when his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip.

He nudges your elbow with his and quirks his eyebrows at you, “I know so.”

The way he's looking at you almost makes your knees weak. Eyes glittering, his mouth slack, his staring into your eyes with an intensity that steals the rest of your breath. Your brain is panicking at you, pleading with you to tell him how you feel.

“Javier, I-”

You're interrupted by a saleswoman with big hair and red lips, “You two need any help? Oh, Chet Baker. Perfect for you lovebirds.”

“We’re not lovebirds. She just, uh, works for my dad. I’m doing her a favor-” Javier tries to explain, much to your disappointment, but the woman interrupts him too.

He’s right, you aren’t lovebirds but there’s something inside you that hurts at his denial. You’re grateful this woman stepped in before you’d made a fool of yourself.

“Javier Peña as I live and breathe,” The woman claps her hand over her chest dramatically.

“Hola, Elena,” He sighs, obviously exasperated but it goes right over her head.

He wants to know what you were going to say. It looked important— intimate even.

You squeeze his arm with an apologetic smile before leaving the two of them to catch up. You need to look at the models of record players they have anyway, it's what you came for. Javier doesn’t find you until you’re checking out, whistling at the pretty penny you’re spending.

“It’s worth it,” You grin up at him, eyes bright and it takes all his willpower not to take you in his arms and kiss you.

The ride back is more silent than the ride going, the two of you unknowingly thinking about the same thing.

What were you going to say to him? And what even is it? It’s always easy to feel what you do for Javier, he taps into the rawest part of you desire, the softest part of your heart. But putting it into words? It seems an impossible task.

By the time he drives you home you still aren’t sure about what you want to say. As always, he walks you to the door, insisting on carrying your bags up to the door.

When you get the door unlocked you turn towards him, hands reaching for the bags, “You can ask me about him. It doesn’t…it’s alright if you’re curious about him, about me.”

His eyes drop to the ground before he focuses them on you again, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Well, I’ll, uh, I’ll see you at dinner tomorrow, Blue,” He murmurs as the bags slip from his hands unto yours.

You can't help but smile at him. Javier doesn't know if you smiled this much since he met you, and his returning smile spans his entire face at the thought of being the reason for that.

“See ya, Javi.”

Back in his truck, he lights a cigarette immediately. He's a goner for you. Hook, line and sinker.

blue scoops taglist: @lesbianhotch, @honeybrowne, @jazzelsaur, @mccn-bcys, @jxvipike, @thevoiceinyourheadx, @hotchs-bitch, @laurensprentiss, @pedrito-friskito, @lola766, @amb11, @vanemando15, @emilianamason, @iamskyereads, @welcometostayingawake, @alpaca-swimsuit

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x fem!reader #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #blue scoops #doctorsteths fluffy feb #doctorstethsfluffyfeb #arson writes narcos

[transcomputer]

HEY HI WALLY UM SORRY TO SCREAM INTO THE VOID OF YOUR INBOX BUT I WATCHED 8 EPS OF FIONNA AND CAKE AND I SAW THAT YOU DIDNT LIKE EP 9 AND 10 WHICH MAKES ME CONCERNED CUZ I REALLY LIKE THIS SO FAR EVEN IF IM A PRETTY CASUAL AT FAN. IDK WHAT I MEAN BY SENDING YOU THIS JUST THAT. MAYBE I WONT BE AS DISAPPOINTED IDK?? ok ill stop screaming now i hope youre having a good day/night :"3

HIII SU YAYY IM GLAD YOU LIKE FIONNA AND CAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! o(^▽^)o despite my beef with the last 2 eps i really really do like f&c as a whole ... it feels like such a natural and intriguing progression for adventure time's story while also being creative enough to have its own identity. when i was watching it i was blown away with how much it exceeded my expectations!!! i wanna see where they take the 2 stories and im excited to see where the team decides take this universe (˘◡˘) ♪ ......

full disclosure im a #fake at fan i havent watched since iwas like 13 or something so take what i say with a grain of salt . but ig the main appeal of the first 8 eps for me is that i felt like it was set up as a subversion of what we knew about fionna and cake and, by extension, adventure time as a series. it takes a look at at's typical storytelling formula but from a more detached lens so it provides a new take on adventure time's storytelling by subverting it's key elements while offering a new perspective and tone (i was very pleased w how different f&c are from their at counterparts!) . simon's depression only seems to spiral with time despite everything "ending well" in the original series. fionna, who was initially excited to escape her boring life, becomes slowly disillusioned when she realizes she's out of her element amidst all the magic. both fionna and simon were stuck in a point where they can't progress in life (though in varying degree) because no matter what they do, there isn't really anywhere they belong. so their arcs are set up to have them live for themselves and carve an identity outside of wanting to escape their situations!! i found that very interesting!!

but then. episode 9 and 10 ...... gotta say i was pretty underwhelmed w these ones ha!

(extended thoughts beyond the cut bc its wayy too long and kind of a downer.. ^^ dont click if u havent finished yet!!):

i mean. eps 9-10 do a good enough job in wrapping up the story .... its just that the tone and way in which conflict was resolved felt kinda disconnected from the first half imo. fionna's struggles and what she needed was set up as a fairly complex problem and seemingly extended beyond her surface level desire to escape. but by the end shes like no wait im ok with my town actually i just needed to accept it :) which while yes that was the resolution the show was setting up, the way it's handled feels too. easy ig? idk her journey in the last two episodes feels wayy more cut-and-dry than i was hoping. it really feels like they wanted to delve into her struggles a little longer but weren't given enough time to do so, so they just kinda had to skip to The Part where she learns her lesson, but for me that kinda undermined the complexity of the conflict being set up and resolved things in a pretty generic way. also nitpick but her decision to not change her world mainly coming from gumlee going like "nooo we just got together!" was like disappointingly simple to me (._.)

which brings me to simon. ouuugh simon. i loooove fionna and cake's take on simon as a character a lot but im sorry betty and simon's resolution left me with more mixed feelings than it did closure. their story is bittersweet and doomed from the start so i dont have a problem with them not being meant to be but "simon was selfish too" being the major takeaway is so strange to me? throughout the show simon is shown to be incredibly selfless and self-sacrificial so having THAT be what we take away from his character feels so out of left field. and yes bc we dont see much about simon's personal life in the main series i dont doubt that he was prone to being selfish. it could be an interesting direction to take him in! but.... his selfishness towards betty is only brought up in episode 9 (we didnt see betty till episode 8 mind you) through an exposition dump via casper and nova (whose segments+designs were admittedly rlly cute) and directly called into question in the last episode, which was ALSO their last meeting. and it leaves such a sour taste to me ....... if youre basing a climax off a specific conflict....why wait UNTIL the climax itself to directly bring up said conflict with little to no buildup. i couldnt feel any closure bc i didnt think this was the conflict theyd choose to build their relationship on at all (then again i have bad foresight)

also "we could've made better choices" still confuses me bc literally WHAT..... if simon never put on the crown he wouldve died and never wouldve found marcy. if he escaped the crown's curse he wouldve projected his madness onto pb. idk. maybe i was reading too much into those isolated incidents. but also somehow i doubt that betty turning insane and ice king's existence were consequences of his selfishness 😭 mind you he literally tried to stop betty from saving him in at!!

additional nitpicks the tone kinda switched back and forth and it felt jarring. going from the somber tone of simon and betty resolution/final meeting and the lighthearted/vaguely humorous tone of fionna and friends trying to stop the bad guy kinda messed with my investment a lil bit...also jay permanently living in fionna's universe was so strange to me likerwyt2r!^%@%#& DONT YOU HAVE SIBLINGS?

anyways i sound really critical but its only bc im rlly invested and believe it could be better if its given enough time to explore its concept better!! and even if the last 2 eps werent for me as a whole there are a lot of things i love about it . the visuals (casper and nova, simon and betty's resolution, the scene of simon returning to ooo, the dandelion scene, the epilogue, GOLB) were sooo beautifully done and did such a good job giving the scenes weight like seriously props to the creative team. i also looove beth and shermy we've only seen very little of them but already their dynamic is so endearing. there's so much passion and creativity jampacked into this project i reaaally can't wait to see what else they have in store

#PHEW im done....ive been working on this one in my drafts 4 quite a bit! sorry again 4 late reply (>﹏<) #but ANYWAYS. im rlly glad you liked it yayyyy ^__^ sorry it got long you gave me an opening and i just had to take it #ive been thinking abt this for awhile so ty for giving the opportunity to actually verbalize it :] (consumed by the f&c brain mold) #https://catabolicseed.com/txt #fionna and cake

[irxnmaiden]

(various topics meme) 15, 18, 26, and 29. :)

rpc thoughts/opinions prompt! [✉️]

#15. icons

icons are rly fun honestly! i think they have the ability to add a lot of personality to a scene, and sometimes can assist in establishing context or helping to emphasize tone. THAT all said, i don’t find them necessary at all—i’m primarily here to read threads, so icons or no icons, the writing is where my focus remains and my interests lie!! i don’t bypass blogs just bc they go icon-less, in fact its oftentimes the opposite? i love seeing how ppl can use their words alone to paint the entire picture. whichever way someone chooses to express their muse is valid tbh, do what feels comfortable!

#18. fanon interpretations

throw a stone and hit any of my muses, and it's apparent how over-the-top and carried away i get from canon lmao... pkmn is the perf franchise for it too; not only are the settings vast and the thematic concepts plentiful, but there is often a lot of negative space to fill on these muses’ canvases (this seems esp true for most canon characters in the earlier games). i aim for my interpretations to feel realistic (to some degree) so i do keep in mind the little canon i am given... but that’s still more for reference, and not something i strictly abide by. its thrilling how ppl have fun w their muses’ exploits and interpersonal relationships, i’m so here for how muns deviate from canon in order to conceptualize something entirely new.

yes i understand in retrospect i absolutely did not understand the topic lmao

#26. your character

jasmine, jasmine... i will never forget witnessing her for the first time ;; it was after school, while watching my friend nick play gold before a crowd of like 12 of us (he was that kid that always had new games right when they came out lol his family had it made like that). he was just reaching the jasmine gym battle by the time i walked up. as you can imagine, being an elementary schooler i was not using the internet as it was back then much at all, so leaks etc were not accessible to me (what few leaks existed at the time, that is); same was true for p much everyone else in my grade, so none of us had any idea about the slayage we were in for. we all saw the two magnemite and kinda brushed them off like “lmao that’s cute”, the disappointment was kinda real ngl 💀 but that disappointment didn’t last long whatsoever, bc the second she sent steelix out... the collective gasps in that lunchroom, lemme tell you! it was quite possibly the greatest thing any of us had ever seen in our lives up to that point, so serious when i say lives were changed that day ;;

so then when i finally received the game a couple months later, i was so excited to get to her gym and battle her for myself. i fell more in love going thru the amphy plotline, and the rest was history as they’d say. she was (and still is) a v overlooked character, but writing her is tons of fun c: (as is seeing her get some exposure from pokemas!) srry this was long-winded as HELL-

#29. your first muse

for the pkmn fandom, my first ever muse was (surprise) misty! this was back on lj, in a community that prob died out in 06 lmao. she was a lot of fun to explore, and became the perf gateway muse before i decided to try exploring diff personalities within the pkmn universe. ive written her since several times, and she’s grown into a more developed muse of mine following that first incarnation for sure. always will have a soft spot in my heart for miss kasumi ♡

#::🧚 ooc. #mtsilvermute #got a lil carried away skfsgk ty for sending these c: #long post

[i-want-my-iwtv]

Am I correct in assuming a chunk of VC fans left tumblr during the 2018 purge and then a bunch when Anne passed? It seems like the vast majority of VC accounts I’m finding are paused at Dec 2018 or Dec 2021 exactly. Like the last posts are the news of her death. (I’m new here and this place is like a ghost town but then there’s tons of old VC art to found)

Hello anon! Good question.

I would say that yes, there was a reduction in fan engagement/accounts at those times. It was also because of:

The news about the AMC adaptation of Interview with the Vampire, which has divided the fandom to some extent, and people have been hesitant to post about it for reasons I'll dig into a bit more below the cut. News about the adaptation has dropped periodically, but probably the biggest news was around Aug 25, 2021, when actor Jacob Anderson was cast to play Louis. For the next few months, the fandom reacted, and it intensified up to and through Dec 2021.

There have also been an avalanche of anonhate/mean-spirited comments on some of VC fandom's fics on AO3. It seems to have calmed down by now, but I'm out of date on that.

TL;DR: Anyway, this is all to say that there were several "events" that led to a quieter fandom, but if you go into the #vampire chronicles tag, or search for character names, you'll see content! We still have fanartists producing fanart, people doing meta analysis posts, and writers posting fanfic.

We did have a vibrant gift exchange in Dec 2021, too, you might want to check that out, and find some active VC ppl through that: @vcsecretgifts 😊

A bit longer response:

Yes, there was a purge, particularly of our more nsfw fanartists in 2018 😥

Yes, I think news of Anne's death divided fandom, too. There was a wave of "joke" posts about how we could now post VC fanfic, and the fandom found that somewhat distasteful (to varying degrees) bc we had been posting the fanfic for years; Anne had long since given up that battle. She had gained an understanding, if not support, of VC fanfic, years ago:

In 2012, Metro reported that Rice developed a milder stance on the issue. "I got upset about 20 years ago because I thought it would block me," she said. "However, it's been very easy to avoid reading any, so live and let live. If I were a young writer, I'd want to own my own ideas. But maybe fan fiction is a transitional phase: whatever gets you there, gets you there."[136]

Anyway. Hit the jump for more, cut bc the AMC series is still a contentious topic, and I am providing a way for ppl to scroll past, if they prefer to do so.

---

A major thing that divided the fandom was the incoming information about AMC's adaptation of Interview with the Vampire into a TV series, and the changes to canon that they have announced. On August 25, 2021, Deadline.com announced one of the major changes in the casting of Jacob Anderson:

There were/are a lot of accusations of racism thrown at people who were/are disappointed about this, causing a split in the fandom. Several other updates on the series increased this divide. I have some info about that in #IWTV AMC tag, and I think this post sums up my feelings that, in general, some people want a faithful adaptation with as little change to canon as possible, to see the story that they fell in love with; other people want to see the story updated and are eager to fall in love with a new version that breathes new life into it. The arguments over which approach is better led to a friction where it felt like no one could talk about their reasons without the conversation escalating into fights, so I think a lot of people chose to withdraw from the conversation. Fair enough, no one is obligated to engage in a discussion that they don't want to.

As I mentioned, there was also an avalanche of anonhate/mean-spirited comments on some of VC fandom's fics on AO3, which if I recall correctly, was right around that time, as well. Again, I'm not up to date on that, but it seems to have calmed down.

I'm hopeful that we're at a point now where people can see that there's plenty of space in a fandom, some people can be thrilled about the adaptation, and other people can be not thrilled, and everything in between. I'm going to watch the show, I'm curious about it as an AU, it'll be interesting to see how the showrunners handle the changes they made.

#anon #ask #thank u #fandom #Deadline #articles #anne rice #vampire chronicles #vc news #iwtv amc #Jacob Anderson

[brianyololau]

9/7/22

So I failed my clinical. Professor failed me bc I didn’t turn in one nursing process worksheet on time. What a bitch. Thinking about her makes me contempt due to the fact that she held me back 6 months because of an assignment worth zero points that she could’ve accepted if she wanted to. Literally all of my previous professors didn’t care if the worksheets were late. This is worse than failing because I bombed my final. At least I could take it with some dignity knowing that it was my own lack of studying. This npw is a bruh moment for the professor, dean, and school. Fuck west coast. professor bejar deserves no respect. If this was her family member she would’ve seen it differently. Still need my degree doe.

The 2 weeks following the day I failed was rough. I forced myself to gym because I would’ve sulked about it at home. I worked out so hard I thought I almost puked. I remember hurting so bad I kept doing more sets to numb the pain and found myself looking up to the ceiling the day she failed me. For the rest of that week leading up to the grade appeal decision, I was working out w a different energy. Supersets became a normal part of my routine, and I spent 2-3 hrs at the gym. On one day, I spent 4 hrs due to the fact that I just didn’t wanna deal with the bullshit of the grade appeal yet.

Now that I’m on week 3 of this term, I feel more stable with my future again. Finals week and week 1, I just wanted to climb mt Everest if that’s what it took to get through the appeal process. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out.

During finals week, I had an incident with a nursing student which is a long story for later.

My goal for this post was to unravel how the interaction with my mom went after the appeal. The whole decision is something I came to accept even though it sucks, but how my mom reacted to it was much worse. This interaction actually happened on her birthday, and I completely forgot about it since I was so caught up with the grade appeal process. She and I came home at the same time that day, and she called me out for forgetting. I felt bad, so I offered to take her out to eat. She said never mind that, but what’s going on with the appeal?

I told her it’s a decision that I can’t change anymore, and I’d just have to move on. I told her I was gonna apply for 2 part time jobs in the meantime, and continue studying with my friends so that I could be twice as prepared moving forward.

She thought it was a good plan, and asked if I’ve applied to any places yet.

I said no. I think I need a few weeks to take a break before I start working because I was getting mentally drained and exhausted from everything I’ve had to deal with in nursing so far.

She immediately countered and said why can’t I work? I’m still in my early 20s while other people my are working their asses off making money. Yet, I’m not even done with school and saying I need a break.

When I heard that, I felt a mixture of shock and disappointment. I was shocked because of the lack of compassion my mom had by choosing to say that after I told her I was mentally tired. I was also disappointed because I secretly knew that that type of response was something to expect. I almost saw it coming beforehand but didn’t expect her to be so degrading. This was the first time where I couldn’t accept it anymore, and I repeated myself to her that I was tired, that I don’t feel happy, that I don’t know how to feel happy right now. I told her whenever I’m home, I don’t feel happy. I’m not going to pretend like everything’s okay at home. I complained that mom always has a temper, and is quick to give derogatory statements which makes me not want to talk to her. Grandma and grandpa are basically strangers. She’s sleeping in the living room, and grandpa treats her with no respect. Grandma accepts his treatment too which enables his behavior even more. Chu quy and her are the least romantic couple I’ve ever seen, and they don’t do things for fun together. I can’t pretend like this family is a happy family and that everything’s perfect at home. It’s not, and anyone who says otherwise is full of shit. Im annoyed saying this because I told grandpa one time that I was sad that he talks to grandma with no respect as if they she wasn’t his partner. He denied it saying they’re a loving couple who are lucky to have been together for this long. I thought his response was bullshit. They’ve been arguing with each other since I was a little kid and even went around the family telling everyone they were no longer husband and wife but acquaintances. That didn’t age well. That’s the one quality I hate: being in denial. This household is extremely good at that and suppressing conflicts as if pretending the problem isn’t there is going to do any good. Putting the problem aside and hoping it will just get washed away with the other million problems pushed aside doesn’t quite help either. If you really wanted to fix those problems, you would address them head on and do it together. That’s what makes a team. That’s what keeps a family.

Back to the story. I told her I don’t feel happy in life. She said of course you don’t feel happy with your life. You failed a class. That was your fault. Just retake the class later on, and don’t make the same mistake again. Then, she started talking about her experience at work. She said that she hates herself sometimes because she’s not good at english. Her bosses are fluent and get to work normal 9-5 jobs, but she gets paid by the clock. She has to leave for work at 3:30 am and doesn’t get home until 3/4. She said if she knew English, she wouldn’t have to live this kind of life, and she doesn’t want me to go through what she does.

I asked her that if she hates herself for that, then how can she be content with herself? She denied that she was unhappy and then proceeded to say that’s just life. Sometimes, there are things that suck, and you just have to deal with it.

Her answer didn’t seem have logic to me. How can you say you’re happy when you hate yourself at work and you think life sucks a lot? I told her I don’t believe life has to be that way because I know poor friends whose household is happy. She said that I don’t know that. They could be happy on the outside but self destructing on the inside. I told her I see it in the way my friends talk about their family at home. I can’t say the same. She repeated the same accusation. I asked her, if this is the case, then is every poor family doomed to have a terrible life? Poor people can’t be happy? She said not necessarily, but their life is already doomed to suck. I asked her if I gave her 4 million dollars and died right now, would she be happy then? She said no. I asked her why. She said because I wouldn’t have you. I said that if family is more valuable than money, then why am I not happy at home?

[obaewankenope]

I remember in college (16-18yrs old) my ancient history professor put my name in for the AQA Extended Project Qualification without asking me and told me about it afterwards. I was 17, clearly Gifted from the outset, and she pegged me as the student in her class who'd do the work for it because she Expected It Of Me.

The thing is, she didn't mean any of it cruelly or meanly. She genuinely thought it was a good thing, that I'd enjoy it, and that it would be a good challenge for me when I was clearly more than capable of completing the coursework and classwork she set with ease.

And she wasn't wrong. But she didn't ask me and I ended up having to spend several months working on this thing around existing classes, home life being a mess, my own mental health being a wreck, and not one teacher realised I had any problems at all.

I had to fill out a journal regularly of Community Work I did like packing bags and stuff to show "community mindset", research my chosen subject, create draft proposals for it, speak to tutors outside of class time to hash it out, attend extra classes on civics and stuff for the qualification and so much more it was unreal.

I had to write a 5k paper on my subject topic, deliver a presentation, proposal, display board for the examiners to look at and ask me questions about which I had to answer and not feck up at the time.

As well as keep my grades up.

And the worst thing. Thee worst thing. It was easy.

It was easy because I could focus on that rather than my mental health, than my home life, than my relationship issues, than all those other things I should have been working on but didn't have the time because I didn't want to disappoint my tutor who signed me up for this whole thing without asking me because she believed in me.

And I aced the thing. I genuinely did.

I aced my classes, except sciences because well something had to give and definitions of things were what I kicked out of my head at the time (I no longer can tell you how to calculate speed and velocity correctly rip).

I was the gifted kid from childhood who was compared to her struggling brother with his adhd and his learning difficulties and behavioural problems, who was well behaved and polite and smart and not a problem in the classroom ever (except when I chose to be).

And that bullshit dragged with me into university where, honestly, I burned myself up. I established a routine sure, but the first week of uni I had a full on emotional breakdown bc I locked myself out of my room and my drunk flatmates all consoled me because everything, and I mean everything, just came down on me at that moment.

I picked myself back up, went to classes and passed everything. Even stats. Though not really because honestly I just didn't get what the tutor was saying and she didn't explain once.

(And I felt so ashamed of that stats class result, it was hilarious. Especially when I had to redo it in the summer which was just horrid for this Gifted Kid to suddenly be struggling).

I have two degrees, an undergraduates and a masters, I have 5 a-levels and 2 as levels. I have all the gcses my school offered that I took and didn't fail any of them.

I am smart. But I struggled so much in university. Not for taking notes, I used my laptop and relied on the tutors power points to add info to, but with everything else because I hadn't been given support where I needed it.

I am superficial and charming on the surface because I have spent a lifetime masking all my problems and troubles and being the good student who doesn't cause trouble even when they want to just get up and scream. The depths of me are seen more online than in person because y'all don't expect me to be charming and to smile and to express social cues I had to consciously learn on my own because not one adult thought I needed help there.

This is the curse of being a gifted kid.

Especially one who gets diagnosed at 28 with adhd who could have done so much more at 22 on adhd medication because things would have been easier. Help would have been available.

Because when you're just Autistic. When you have Aspergers. When you're High Functioning. You're just Smart And Awkward and written off as fine.

I suffered so much for no reason other than a flawed system that overworks its employees, doesn't fund the things it should fund enough, and leaves kids like me, who show accelerated growth in quantifiable areas of statistical measurement but who need help with other areas, to suffer alone.

There's a reason so many Gifted kids end up diagnosed as neurodivergent. It's because we're smart in one way that means everything else about us is ignored.

The Problem Kids I saw in high school (11-16) were some of the smartest kids I've ever met. But because they struggled with maths, with spelling, with reading, and other things, they got ignored, or babied, or told off when they got bored and grew tired of being ignored and not praised like the Gifted Kids at least got.

One of those kids, Tom, he genuinely was so smart. He wrote a whole ass English paper the day before it was due and he got an amazing mark because he had actually listened to me explaining stuff next to him in class, even when he fucked around throwing erasers about, or doodling, and I went through things in a way he understood because that helped me too.

Like.

He's Gifted. He's smart. But he got called a Problem Kid because of disruptive behaviour. Because he drew attention to himself, good or bad, because he didn't want to be ignored and because the subject didn't Interest Him.

I learned a lot in school because I loved learning. That's why I did well. I loved to just soak up knowledge. I still do. The fact that the knowledge I enjoyed learning was information relevant to standardised tests is the only, The Only, reason I got labelled as Gifted and not Problem or Ignorant.

My mother is smart. She loves horses. She Loves To Learn About Horses. Always has. School for her was a story of Not Trying, Not Paying Attention, Not Able To Understand. Because it didn't Interest her. It didn't engage.

But she's Gifted too.

She's forgotten more about horses than I'll ever know. And I know a lot.

Intelligence isn't just MENSA tests and pattern recognition and that bs used to evaluate how smart someone is in a psychological assessment.

Intelligence, true intelligence, is being able to share what you know with others in a way they can understand. That's true intelligence.

And I know a lot of Gifted Kids, Problem Kids, Ignorant Kids, Daydreamers, and Drop-Outs who are intelligent because of that fact alone.

So fuck the lack of support for gifted kids and other kids. Fuck the idea that kids can be categorised as smart and not smart. Fuck the mentality that if you're not good at your countries language and maths that you're "stupid". Fuck it all.

We're all fucking geniuses and I won't have anyone tell y'all different.

And we support each other as a result. Got that.

#Kat talks #Intelligence #Gifted kid syndrome #Problem Kids #Adhd #Neurodiversity #Disability #Ableism #Disableism #Education #School #I have feelings about this and very little filter rn apparently #Blame it on the 2nd vaccine lmao

[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

[spencersawkward]

if you feel comfortable with it, I’d love a prof Spence where reader is a student and goes to office hours to initiate ~smutty goodness~ but Spencer is reluctant at first bc his job but they flirt more and eventually sleep together

me n my professor kink when i saw this: 😏 anyway yes i am quite comfortable writing about this lol. i took some ✨creative liberties✨ with your request so i'm sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted! 

summary: reader is a student in Dr. Reid’s class, but she’s been something of a poor student-- office hours are the only solution.

relationship: Fem!Reader/Professor!Spencer

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, super brief hair-pulling, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, age gap, degradation-- he gets pretty dominant oops.

word count: 4.5k

masterlist

popping in a piece of gum, I make my way to the back of the hall. there are a few people here already, but it's a little early. I'm never early. in fact, I'm usually late; my other class is on the other side of campus, and getting here involves a lot of embarrassing speed-walking.

but here I am, five minutes ahead of schedule and actually in a decent seat. as I flip open my textbook and pull my laptop out of my bag to prepare to take notes, my gaze slides down to the corner of the room, where Dr. Reid is standing up with a pile of papers. he walks over to the girl in the front row, handing her the stack and gesturing for her to pass it along.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. he's a total luddite. the first day, Dr. Reid spent about ten minutes rambling about the importance of reading from a physical book rather than online sources-- which, although I definitely agree with, means a lot more lugging around folders and organizing all the readings he gives out. if he wasn't so hot, I would have switched into another course.

and I know it's wrong to be daydreaming about my professor slamming me into a wall while he discusses the intricacies of quantum theory. the complete cliché of it is embarrassing. but still, I just can't stop thinking about him: how his fingers would feel around my throat, the smooth wooden surface of his desk against my cheek as he bends me over and pulls my panties to the side--

"glad to see you've decided to join us, today, Ms. Y/L/N." Dr. Reid's voice startles me out of my thoughts. he's standing towards the front of the room while students file in. his hands are resting in his pockets with his eyebrows pleasantly raised.

"glad to see you've noticed." I retort, too irritated with his comment to care about being polite.

a couple people look at me. even though I'm generally not on time, he tends to just glance my way when I walk in and leaves it at that. I know he doesn't like it, although I personally don't care. I hate this course.

he seems visibly surprised by my response but doesn't reply, gaze lingering on mine before he turns to speak to a student trying to get his attention. I bite back a smile. fucking asshole.

as usual, Dr. Reid writes in his thin, messy lettering on the board while wandering around the front of the room. he's quite fidgety, even though his voice doesn't betray any sort of nervousness. it's like he's naturally overactive.

every word out of his mouth is enunciated, sometimes spoken faster when he gets particularly impassioned by the subject. he's interesting to look at, too. messy curls and a nice suit, stubble that straddles the line between refinement and ruggedness.

I type quickly, but it isn't fast enough and the strange illustrations he does on the board only complicate things. I try to write them down in my notebook, but my handwriting is jagged; sometimes it's hard to read. when a student raises her hand for a clarification, I take the opportunity to catch up.

my head jerks up as soon as I'm finished and he's looking at me while he speaks. even from so many feet away, the intensity strikes me. he's gesticulating and crossing the room. I hold eye contact.

I wonder if he dates often; a couple of the girls in my row always stare at him throughout the lectures. he seems to be completely unaware of the effect he has on people. sometimes I'll see him in the hallway and he has his nose buried in a book, or a to-go cup of coffee, or both. either way, there seems to be no more room in that head of his for romance.

which, naturally, makes me curious about how he looks when he's on the edge of orgasm. if that composure is replaced with a contorted pleasure. I want to break him.

it's like he can read my thoughts, because Dr. Reid averts his gaze. my stomach twists with a strange anticipation. he avoids looking my way for the rest of the time.

towards the end of class, I start to pack my things to go. I have three papers to write, and my utter lack of interest in this is making me eager to leave. I shove my textbook into my bag the second my professor starts to make closing remarks.

"don't forget that we have a midterm in two weeks!" he says in a slightly louder voice as people start to move around. "if you have any questions, my office hours are posted on the bulletin board outside."

at this, my eyebrows rise. I forgot about the midterm. I have a study calendar set up for all my subjects, but I've purposefully been putting this one off. I'm not super into math. and it doesn't help that most of my time is spent not listening. when I am, it doesn't make sense.

as I stand up and gather my stuff, I hear someone clearing their throat a couple feet away. my head turns to see Dr. Reid leaning against his desk.

"Ms. Y/L/N, can I see you for a second?"

my heart stutters in my chest. is this about my attitude? he's never asked to see me outside of lessons before.

I frown, making my way to him with a deliberate pace. the tension in the room builds as I watch the last of his students shuffle out of the room. my head turns from the door to him; my breath catches a little in my throat at the set of his jaw. part of me hopes I get yelled at.

"I'm concerned about your participation in this class." he says. his voice isn't cruel, but it is brutally honest— which is worse. participation? I feel my fist clench at my side. my professors don't usually say anything if you aren't doing things up to their expectations; if you aren't, then they give you a bad grade. simple as that.

"is this about me being late?" I ask. he lets out a sigh before answering. he sounds disappointed.

"you're constantly tardy, and when you hand in your homework, you barely seem to have put in the effort. it's messy."

"messy?" I start to get annoyed. I'm only doing this so that I can get my degree. it's a fucking requirement. even though I'm not the biggest fan of mathematics, I still do my best and hand in my assignments on time. plus, the latest I arrive is five minutes-- it's not like I'm stumbling in halfway through the lesson.

"you've never come to office hours to ask for help or explained your lateness, which I, as your professor, would have appreciated." he scolds. honestly, I don't know what to say. my eyes narrow.

"I have my studio class on the other side of campus." I explain. "I should have emailed about that and I'm sorry, but I'm also not being lax about my work."

he goes around to the other side of his desk and glances up at me while he organizes some loose documents to pack away. he looks way too good when he's exasperated: his hands tighten around the papers, his eyebrows come together in this cute way. his tie is a little crooked, too.

"are you struggling with the content?"

"sometimes, yeah. but I can handle reaching out for help if I need it." I reply. he's pissing me off with these questions. I can see from the expression on his face that he's surprised by my reaction.

"really?" he slides some books into his messenger bag. that was definitely sarcastic; I know it was. "because it doesn't really seem like you have."

"I like to find help on my own." I shoulder my bag and cross my arms over my chest. there's no way he's gonna talk to me like that and expect me to not respond in kind.

"I'm reserving a slot on Wednesday evening for you," he looks up and holds my gaze. hazel irises that dare me to challenge him further. "I want you in office hours so that we can figure out how you're gonna catch up before the midterm."

"fine." I turn on my heel and leave. I know I'm not supposed to talk to my professor like that, or even to behave with such apprehension. but something about him makes me angry in the kind of way that settles in my stomach. I hate that he's right. I'm not going to do well on that damn test if I don't get some help.

but that doesn't mean I can't have some fun with it.

when I rush into his office on Wednesday evening, the sun is just starting to set through his window. there's a pinkish glow that smooths over Dr. Reid's desk as he glances up at me. I had to run to get here.

"you're late." he nods to the clock on the wall. I roll my eyes.

"only one minute, though. I had another class."

he sighs and folds his hands on his desk. "how are you doing today, Ms. Y/L/N?" a strangely polite question for the look on his face. he's frustrated with me.

"I'm quite well, Dr. Reid." I smile brightly, slightly excited by the anger on his face, and sit at the chair in front of his desk.

"I didn't know you were interested in art." he says simply. I'm confused for a moment before I remember that I told him that the course before his is a studio lesson.

"I didn't know you cared."

"do you make a habit of that?" he quirks an eyebrow.

"of what?" my expression is saccharine.

"being rude to people who control your grades."

"unless you're considering being unethical in your practices and allowing your personal opinion of me to influence my grade, then no." I counter. he's silent for a moment, taking in my words like they've left a mark on him.

"well, you'd most likely fail if I asked you to leave my office hours right now. whose fault would that be?" he fidgets with his hands and leans forward just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower tone. I bite back a smile.

"you wouldn't."

"and why is that?" he baits.

"because you're not a shitty professor, Dr. Reid," I lean back in my chair and cross my legs. "as angry as you are, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you kicked me— a struggling student— out of here for giving you a little attitude."

"a little attitude?" he scoffs. "you've spent the whole semester completely ambivalent."

"not completely." I shrug.

"Y/N, you draw all over your tests and leave at least one problem half-finished every time. you obviously aren't learning." he chuckles mirthlessly. I concede this point; I like to doodle when I'm bored. and there's absolutely nothing more boring to me than numbers.

"okay," I sit up and rest my elbows on the edge of his desk, staring at him. "then teach me."

Dr. Reid holds my gaze for a long moment. we're suspended, it seems, as his lips part and he finds himself speechless. the way I said the words obviously has another layer to it-- he just has to decide whether or not to take the bait.

"what are you struggling with?" he clears his throat and sits up a bit straighter in his seat. that answers my question, I guess. I poke my tongue between my teeth gently, but then pull out my notebook and flip it to a page with some problems outlined on it.

"these." I toss the thing onto his side and he begins to run through the assignment. I watch him pick up a pen and start to explain the steps, slipping into his usual educational tone. his shoulders relax a little as he writes.

I can't see right from the angle I'm at, so I stand and come around onto his side. I hear him pause his speaking for a moment at my proximity, but he doesn't move away.

"does that make sense?" he asks me once he's finished running through the first problem. he basically did all the work. the professor's head turns to gauge my reaction to the explanation, but his eye line is right at the hem of my skirt-- which is already pretty short. for all his attempts to be subtle, he gulps and looks up at me.

"mostly." I brush a piece of hair behind my ear and pretend to scratch at a spot on my upper thigh, dragging the edge of my skirt with it until he can see the smooth skin beneath, practically begging for his touch. "can I ask you a question?"

"sure." he keeps his eyes almost too focused on mine. I try to hide the smile tugging at my lips. now or never, I guess.

"what's your policy on professor/student relationships?"

"my-- my what?" this time, he's audibly scattered when he turns to me. his eyes are wide, dark. even he can't hide his feelings.

"you know," I run my fingertips over the tweed shoulder of his jacket. I can sense the tension beneath his clothes. "like, your policy on fucking a student."

"I--" his cheeks turn pink. he's flustered, albeit not rejecting my touch. "I've never had to think about it before."

"hmm," I look off to the side as if considering this point. his chair is fully turned to face me now, and I'm standing in front of him, almost completely his for the taking. all he has to do is close the gap. "well, what are you thinking about it right now?"

"it's wrong." he stumbles over the words.

"why?"

"well, I mean, you're a student--"

"for a semester that's almost over." I cut him off. he opens and closes his mouth. I take a deep breath, toying with the hem of my skirt. "I know you've been looking at me during class."

"w-what?"

"you're pretty good at hiding it, but you call on me a lot and you get all messed up when I hold eye contact too long during lectures." I say.

he looks down and back up apologetically. he's just sitting there, lap wide open. so I do what any sane girl in my position would do: I climb into it, straddling him and resting my arms around his neck. he sucks in a breath.

"you pretend I'm such a pain," I lean down by his ear, my core drawing over his pants. he tenses as I speak. "but you like that I'm your little problem."

"Y/N..." he trails off, but his hips are bucking up into mine.

"see?" I look between our bodies at his movements, then at him. I smirk as I look into those lust-darkened eyes. after a moment of him not speaking, I straighten. "look, I'll leave you alone if it really bothers you--"

as I start to get off his lap, he grabs me and pulls me back down. the force hits my center at just the right angle and I let out a slight mewl. he hears the sound and before I can register the pleasure, he grabs my face and yanks me closer to kiss him.

god, he feels so good. I rock my hips against his while our lips pass over each other hungrily. so much tension built up over the past few months, so many thoughts I've had of him, now coming to fruition. it's amazing.

"not so 'wrong' now, is it?" I chuckle against his mouth.

"shut up." he orders. one moment of broken contact to slide my top over my head and throw it on the floor.

I sigh as he starts to kiss across my jaw and down my throat. "I like when you talk like that, Dr. Reid."

one hand grips my hips tighter and he releases a groan against my skin.

"is that why you're such a fucking brat in my class?" he bites my collarbone and I moan. "because you want me to put you in your place?"

"mhmm." I hum. his fingertips move under my skirt, sliding up my thighs and toying with the waistband of my panties. he teases me by grazing my slit over the fabric, inhaling sharply at the wet patch.

"sitting in the back of my room, fucking dripping..." he mumbles to himself as he starts to rub me.

"touch me." I breathe out, trying to gain the friction that I need.

"not if you're gonna be a brat." he removes his hand and I let out a frustrated noise as I try to find the pressure I need elsewhere by grinding down on him. he grunts at the way I pant into his mouth, trying to kiss him with every chance I get. his lips are so smooth and sweet against mine. there's something affectionate about it even in its ferocity.

"I'll be good." I practically beg.

"that's what I thought." he slides his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches me whimper on top of him.

"come on, Spencer..." I use the name for the first time and he grabs my face in his hand, squeezing my cheeks.

"not my name, sweetheart." he stares into my eyes expectantly and I smirk.

"you're fucked up, doctor."

"so are you."

after he says that, he lifts me off his lap and stands up, pushing between my shoulder blades until my face is pressed onto the desk. I let out a needy whine, wiggle my ass back in hopes of finding his crotch, but he's not willing to give me that, yet.

instead, he gently touches my skirt, flipping it up so that he can see my ass. immediately, he starts to knead it. my palms are pressed flat against the desk with anticipation, silently thankful that my panties are still on. I think I'd be dripping down my thighs if they weren't.

"are you gonna be more respectful?" his voice is low, one hand tracing over my back. I shake.

"mhmm."

"I won't spank you if you don't use your words, sweetheart."

"yes." I choke out, no longer wanting to give any sort of resistance. I had no idea there was this side of him, and I love it.

he loves it too, apparently, because his hand comes down sharply on my ass. I yelp at the contact and he runs his fingers over the point of impact, rubbing the flesh gently.

"too hard, baby?" he checks.

"harder." I beg. I can't see his face, but I can sense his smile as if it's my own. his palm hits me again, and I gasp.

"you like being punished?"

"yes." strangled and desperate.

he slips his finger beneath the fabric of my panties, collecting my essence and letting out a quiet moan when he feels me. I push my hips against his fingers, partly expecting him to remove all the pressure, but he doesn't bother waiting.

he slips his index inside and I gasp. starts to push in and out, his silence proving his arousal. I can practically feel his eyes on me. the pace increases a bit and he slides in his middle finger. I buck against the desk.

"oh fuck!" I cry out as he starts to go faster. he curls them against my walls and I arch my back.

"two fingers and you're already breaking?" Spencer chuckles as he moves inside me. he keeps one hand on my ass while he does it, starting to finger me at a ridiculous speed while I pant and moan and cry.

"I--" I gulp down air. "I need you in it."

he bends down by my ear, never breaking his rhythm. my legs are shaking from the force. "you need my cock?"

"yes," I feel myself closing in around him. "god, yes."

"you're lucky I wanna fuck you so bad." he mutters. I grin as I hear the clink of his belt coming undone, the sliding through the belt loops, the sound of him stripping down to nothing. I can feel my excitement on the inside of my thighs, spread around by his reckless fingers as he removes my panties and skirt.

he grinds himself against my pussy, coating himself in me, while he releases low, longing moans. I suck in a breath when the head pushes in, every inch pushing me open a little more. I don't have the ability to form words, so I bite my lip and grip onto the edge of the desk until my knuckles turn white.

his breath stops for a moment before he groans.

"so ready for me."

he's not even all the way in, and he has to pause to let me adjust. when he taps the inside of my thigh for me to part them more, I do it quickly and beg him to fill me up. I can barely take the pressure between my hips, but it burns in an inviting way.

"keep going." I direct him. he runs his hands over the curve of my waist and starts to thrust into me at a rate that leaves me panting. it's not too fast or slow, just impatient and needy. every sound that spills from his lips turns me on more.

"where'd the attitude go, huh?" he digs his hips into mine. his cock hits my cervix and I squeak against the wood, but he holds my back down. I don't even try to argue with him, too overcome with the pleasure that's coursing through my limbs. he starts to build up his speed. "don't have much to say when you're getting fucked?"

"Dr. Reid--" I moan.

he plows into me so hard, the desk shifts on the floor and he grabs my ass with both hands.

"take it, baby. fucking take it."

I get up on my elbows to look behind me, just to glimpse how he looks as he gets closer. his curls have fallen more in his face, and his shirt is gone. I want to touch him desperately, to feel the lovely skin of his torso and arms and everything else, but he keeps me down for the most part. all I get is the sight of his mouth open and his hips moving quickly against mine.

"look at me, there you go." he grabs my face and holds me there, our eyes locked. mine are welling at the sheer overwhelming pleasure inside, but his are dark and intense. they search mine for something I can only hope to offer.

"that feels so good, Dr. Reid." I pant. he bites his lip as he watches my mouth hanging open in lecherous shock.

"I bet it does," he explores my body. "coming in here, hoping I fuck you like you deserve. you're lucky I'm going easy on you."

"thank you." I whine.

"you might need some extra lessons, yeah?" he grunts out, moving into me with a bruising force.

"yes, please." I whisper. my voice is practically gone at this point, my mind entirely focused on the knot building in my stomach.

"what was that, baby?" he pulls my hair gently.

"yes— fuck— yes, please, Dr. Reid."

"what a beautiful girl." he smirks. I whimper when he runs his fingernails down my ribcage. I can feel it coming from the way he starts to move tumultuously, every thrust pushing harder and seeking more release. it's fervent, how he takes me and grips my hips like the force itself will push him over the edge.

"I'm so close..." I breathe out as I try for as much friction as I can.

"show me," he drops down so his stomach is flush to my back. "show me how you cum, Y/N."

the way he says my name-- husky and warm and full of lust-- causes me to snap. I cry out as he reaches around to clamp a hand around my mouth, climaxing and pulsing around his dick as I drop down against the surface again. I want him to finish inside, so I do my best to keep him here. and his thrusts are getting more staccato as he chases the sensation my walls create.

"can I fill you, angel?" he asks. he's breathing right by my ear, and the feeling is sending shivers down my spine. I love how his weight feels.

"yes." I moan and he slides his fingers into my mouth. I suck on them while he orgasms, jerking into my pussy and letting out unholy sounds of ecstasy. he says unintelligible things in the throes of his orgasm. pounds into me until I'm sure I won't be able to walk tomorrow.

"jesus christ, Y/N." he slows to a stop. when he pulls his cock out of me, the absence makes me whine. I miss his body already.

"oh my god." I clench my hands into fists as I try to catch my breath. I'm still bent over the desk as though I've been completely sapped of all my energy. I suppose I have. he doesn't touch me for a moment in the spirit of letting me recover from the small shudders still running over my skin.

"that was great." he says after we've both had time to fill our lungs. I push myself onto my elbows again.

"correct." I grin and straighten up more until I'm standing. he stares at me, at the cum now dripping down my legs, entranced.

"let me get you something to clean up." he snaps out of it a little. I can't stop looking at him, either, in love with the way he moves and the way he breathes after exerting himself on my body.

"come here." I bite my lip. for some reason, despite what we just did, this is scarier than everything else. he steps closer and I reach up, kiss him softly. part of me worries that he'll pull away and be terrified. maybe that he'll tell me that I've read too much into this.

he's much gentler than before. our first kiss was full of need and primal desire, but this is more affectionate. I remove myself from his embrace.

"okay, you can go now." I giggle. his fingertips linger on my waist and he smiles. I push his shoulder. "I literally have your cum all over me-- go."

"fine." he starts to put his clothes on.

"does this mean I get an A?" I joke. Spencer shakes his head.

"nice try. when we're done cleaning you up, we're gonna sit down and figure this out."

I let out a whine, and he kisses my cheek before looking me in the eyes. "it'll be fun. I promise."

"math is not fun."

"I can't believe I like a girl who doesn't enjoy such a beautiful subject." he rolls his eyes and I giggle. he's perfect.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #dr. reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #professor reid

[that-one-weeb-but-starwars]

They met in the rain| Hunter

Note: god I love this one, also RIP grammar I did this on my phone on a farm

Warnings: mentions of basically space pornhub but nothing really explicit, Hunter figuring out what his sexuality is and making very unreasonable conclusions because hes basically scared bc well I do that too

Reader: male

Masterlist

Hunter stood under the oning. The rain heavy and droplets big. A asortment of marigolds in his hand looking for the girl he was ment to meet, he himself dressed up in polished armour, he didnt have many chlothes to choose from so polished and clean armour seemed the best option.

Yet the more he waited the more disappointed he became, and hour later no one showed up, two hours later still no one. He sighed.

Why?

"Hey! Mind me taking a spot next to you?" A man asked rushing under the oning.

Hunter nodded as the man stood next to him hair once done nice soaked and stuck to his face his chlothes soaked. It was quiet between the two.

"You okay?" Y/n called over the rain.

"Huh?" Hunter questioned, "I'm. Fine."

Y/n frowned, "You don't seem very fine."

Hunter sighed, "date stand you up too?"

Y/n chuckled, "yeah. Yeah he did."

"He?" Hunter questioned Y/n sighed.

"Yeah. He." Y/n spoke, "he was a real smooth talker too."

Hunter let out a low laugh, "seems we had the same problem."

Y/n looked back seeing a bench, sitting himself down Hunter looked back, Y/n patting the spot next to him. Hunter sat down flowers besides him.

"What's your name?" Hunter questioned.

"Y/n." He smiled, "you?"

"Hunter."

Y/n nodded, "you're a clone, a...Sargeant am I correct?"

Hunter looked over at him a bit shocked, "uh, yeah."

"I had a good friend that was a clone. He went missing a while ago. Taught me everything I know today." Y/n spoke.

"What was his name?" Hunter questioned.

"Kix." Y/n spoke.

"You were a republic medic." Hunter responded.

Y/n nodded, "you knew kix?"

"Not much we did one mission together." Hunter admitted, "loyal to his brothers."

Y/n nodded, it becoming silent between the two, Hunter felt good, someone that understood his struggle of being an outside besides him.

"So. When did you start dating guys?" Hunter blurted out causing Y/n's head to turn, "Wait! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that-"

"No. No." Y/n laughed, "its okay. You know Kix asked me that exact way, think it confused him a little bit at first as I was dating a female twilek just before hand,"

"Oh." Hunter spoke quietly, "You...you can date both?"

"Um. Yeah." Y/n spoke, "why not?"

"Dating anybody wasnt really allowed in the GAR. Especially-"

"Within clone ranks. Right." Y/n spoke, "I kind of forget about that stuff sometimes...this was your first date then?"

Hunter nodded, Y/n frowning, stood up on his first date. Wow.

"Right now Im thinking it would of been better to ask you out rather than her." Hunter spoke with a nervous smile but then immediately started to correct himself, "Well! Not- It's not, I"

"Its okay. Really." Y/n smiled, " Dating is hard."

Hunter looked away from him and down at his hands. His mind running through the conversation over and over, Y/n dated a man and a woman, and seemed perfectly happy with it. He felt dirty for even dating a woman, sure clones had...needs, but he had always taken care of them himself. Hunter wouldnt lie, when he had to take care of his needs with a video or two to help. He found himself gazing in a different direction each and every time. It mostly started with females dominating over males, then leaned towards men being well- pegged. He found it okay, it was still a woman and man, just different. Then he had found male on male videos, the idea of someone ontop of him in such a way made his climaxs much more intense the idea of someone grabbing his face and making him look up at him with such deep and mysterious eyes made with a strong grip of a males hand made him go crazy. But well. He had brothers.

What were they going to think? And Omega? That little girl who has his heart, a daughter in his eyes. What would she think? That he was gross? That he was werid? That he would try and advance on his brothers? Unreasonable things had started going through his head. But he always seemed to boil them down to just fantasies. Something that would never have, like a dream. That would be until he seen a man at Cid's bar, sure a girl on each arm a firm grip on there waist as he was obviously wealthy, but that didn't matter, his eyes were a a crazy purple color, his voice was smooth and deep, and well. He...he was mind blowing to Hunter. The man walked up to them, taller than Hunter, and a deep chuckle on his words as he explained the job he wanted done. Hunter luckily managed to cover his red ears with his bandanna and act normal.

Thats not what he wanted, a flirt? Sure a bit. But he wanted a relationship, a loving partner and as cliche as he thought it was he wanted a story book romance. He found himself even more in a pickle when he started looking at both women and men in the same light. Confused and conflicted he shut himself off, any one to advance him for such a relationship or act he turned away or walked away before he could be asked.

But this girl? Man was she the one. She'd come to cids bar to ask just for him, bring the boys the cookies and all, he thought they had something, but he supposed not. Not a comn link chatter, or a woman in sight. Just him and Y/n, sitting on a bench with then rain infront of them.

"Hey? You-"

"Go on a date with me." Hunter blurted out once again, his body even leaning forward toward Y/n in such a way.

Y/n blinked in confusion, "Im. I'm sorry." He laughed a bit out of shock.

Hunter retracted back, Y/n quickly stopping his by grabbing his hand.

"Hey,wait you just shocked me is all. You were all quiet for a mintue there." Y/n told him, Hunter's face and ears red.

"I. Im sorry." Hunter told, he was never this shy, stuttering in such ways.

"Am I your first male date?" Y/n questioned Hunter just nodded Y/n smiling smally.

"I'm honored, and would love to go on a date with you." Y/n smiled, "how about we go now?"

Y/n stood up Hunter's hand in his picking him up to his feet.

"Come on! We can go to a caf shop! Or watch a holo movie!" Y/n tried to pursuade.

"Now?" Hunter questioned.

Y/n nodded, "I think we're both free and dressed for the occasion anyways."

Hunter chuckled, it felt good to laugh and Y/n smiled.

"Yeah. Let's do it."

Y/n smiled, "lets go then! Come on! A new Vemon holo just came out!"

Hunter laughed as they went hand in hand running down the street to tried and pass the rain as quick as possible.

Hunter was glad, he had found someone who made him genuinely happy in such a hard time. Someone that understood him to a degree. Someone as simple as a stranger, and if others didnt like it well, who cared? Many people never cared about clones anyways. Hunter felt safe hand in hand with this man he had met in the rain.

#star wars #the bad batch #star wars: the bad batch #sw: tbb #hunter x you #hunter star wars #hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter #star wars hunter #hunter the bad batch #hunter #hunter x y/n #hunter x male reader #sw x male reader #tbb x male reader #male readers need more fanfic tbh #star wars x male reader #male reader

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. I'm glad LO fans are pissed at this Eris twist, they should be mad. You cannot claim to be a series about empowerment, giving Persephone a voice, and showing her inner complexity only to chicken out and make her a laughable depiction of a "perfect" woman and placing blame on a random character. RS wants all the perks of showing a "Complex Dread Queen" without actually letting Persephone have any sort of remotely "negative" traits, and the fans are right to be mad over it. It's insultingly bad.

2. Soooo, persephone = sleeping beauty????

Gifts from gidesses (fairy godmothers), hiding the kid with other godesses, ir the TGOEM, her seeing a man ONE TIME, and immediately in love. Jesus just let her get pricked by a thorn and fall asleep for 100 years already.

3. rachel purposely making sure persephone isn't even demeter's biological daughter in this is just wrong, esp when she says metis ISNT a mother to H/H/D because she only "created" them. she's making sure there is no actual connection between them in any way so demeter's overprotectiveness is even more demonized and persephone has /nothing/ for herself, meanwhile hades gets all the friends, family, power, etc. persephone is left with nothing and rachel thinks it's feminist/empowereing. this sucks.

4. you know i get a big part of the attraction to hxp and couples like it is the forbidden romance/"i can fix him" mentality and all but like idk how we're supposed to "fix" a literal slave owner lmao. like yeah you can fix myths hades, or hades game hades, or pjo hades, but theyre not hyper violent slavers who lust after barely legal interns, cheat with his sister in law, physically maim teenagers bc of a tiny slight, and literally corrupt the laws in his benefit like?? you cant "fix" that??

5. i thought this was supposed be a H&P retelling, not sleeping beauty 🤨

6. anon dont be silly, hades will just buy persephone her degrees so she feels better about having no accomplishments of her own. who needs school when your boss slash husband will just buy it for you?

7. you guys need to stop comparing lo to fifty shades. even ana steele got her degree and had a life before getting with her creepy boss, persephone doesn't even have that.

8. i know rachel eggs them on to think this but its so creepy the readers are obsessed about hades impregnating persephone and her giving him babies?? like he just found out she was r4ped only a few or two before only for persephone to just not care?? and now planning out how to give him kids?? arent most of the readers teenagers? would they like random people obsessing over when theyll have kids too? because i would guess not, but the r4pe victim better hurry up and give him mini clones ASAP!!

From OP: The amount of “but it’s not the fun way” responses to Persephone suggesting to create a baby is so gross (but not surprising). Like, why do they feel disappointed if they don’t have sex to have a child??

9. The fact that the other gods and goddesses have actually met Persephone when she was a baby is just... it's gonna haunt my many sleepless nights to come.

10. that one comic anon is talking about is called "when jasy whistles". jasy in myth is a literal child but the creator aged them up for shipping purposes.

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

[eremiie]

Hello there I really like your writing and I was maybe wondering I can get some angst of a cheating eren who break his s/o heart

yes you can!! i shed a few tears writing this bc i was listening to sad music & thinking, but i hope you enjoy, i am not the best at writing angst😪!

cheers to you - eren x reader

in which eren breaks your heart and you have no choice but to move on.

tw; crying, heartbreak ig idk

2.5k words | angst | modern au

"okay."

you pushed at sasha's phone, you didn't want to see anymore. you were trying to suppress your tears, refusing to cry in front of your two friends.

sasha took one more look at the photos before swiping out of her camera roll, looking back up at you with a frown, hitch likewise. "_____, are you okay?"

and you hated when people asked you that. you thought you were doing fine, you thought you could keep everything down but you simply thought wrong. you croaked out the smallest sound, but before you could even get a word out the tears began to spill, your eyes becoming bleary with the suffocating liquid and the suffocating feeling surrounding your heart. you felt so dumb.

hitch rushed to your side pulling you into a hug until your head fell against her shoulder, body going limp besides the soft heaves that would leave your shuddering body. the pictures of eren were embedded in your head, replaying in your mind, constantly on repeat and you wished to think of anything else that wasn't clawing at your heart like the photos lingering in your subconscious. it was all you could see, almost like a photo album; eren's hands sat on some random girls waist while she straddled him, his jaw slacked open as she ground against him, whoever taking the photo catching her mid grind. his eyes were half lidded if you remembered correctly, reddening, he must've been high.

you couldn't tell if that fact alone hurt you less or more.

your mind swiped, another photo with the same blond haired girl, this time her hands cupping his face and his hands gripping her ass while they engaged in a kiss that you wished was chaste. you were repulsed that your lips had met his in almost the same manner before he left for that party the same night. more sobs left your poor quivering lips, hitch's grip around you tightening as she tried to shush your sobs and cries.

sasha's hands ran over her face as she shook her head clear disappointment evident as she watched you and hitch.

"what did i do wrong?" you gasped for air finally pulling away from hitch, the only body part connecting with hers be your hands that she clasped so delicately as if, if she squeezed too tight you would break. "my heart hurts, it hurts, it hurts," you babbled as tears fell from the bottom of your chin and the bridge of your nose, your eyes were puffy and swollen. "this hurts so bad," you conveyed your emotions through words another gasp leaving your lips.

"you did nothing wrong," hitch reassured rubbing her thumbs against the surface of your hands. "he's just an idiot."

"it's gonna hurt, and that's okay," sasha scooted forward from her position on the floor laying her head in your lap and you knew she was right but god, you didn't want it to hurt. you wanted the pounding in your head to stop, the recurring thoughts to stop, the salty tears streaming down your cheeks to stop, i mean you wanted someone to tell you exactly where you messed up so you could go back and try again.

"do you want us to stay with you tonight?"

you looked down at the side of sasha's face, one of your hands letting go of hitch to comb through brunette hair, and the lazy bun in the back of her head seemed all too familiar already, the way a couple of flyaways framed the front of her face had you covering your mouth, repressing a gag with your palm, sasha whipping her head around to confront the source of the sound, worry on her face, but you squeezed your eyes shut, even the furrow in her brow reminding you all too much of the boy.

"______?" hitch's arms were back around you but you quickly pushed them off feeling the rising feeling of your breakfast you had not too long ago, rushing to the trash can in the corner of your dorm letting your remnants spill from your stomach. the feeling of throwing up felt so foreign to you, you couldn't even remember the last time you did it, and to some degree you wished your heart came up with it.

hitch's mouth parted in the slightest not even sure what to say but the anger behind her eyes was apparent. "baby, i'm so sorry." was all she could say in response while your body crouched beside the trash can, your hands slipping from the rim until they were palm first on the floor, slowing turning into fists.

"i wanna be alone for a couple hours." you managed to utter with a sniff.

"you sure?" sasha asked, standing up awkwardly with hitch reciprocating. you nodded your head and it felt like everything was going in snapshots, them walking to the door, the door opening and their bodies disappearing, your figure laying back in your bed and then the next snapshot didn't come, sleep had came so quick you didn't even have time to process it.

❈ ❈ ❈

your eyes fluttered slightly and you relished in the heat over you for a minute. your mind felt like a clean slate for the time being, as your eyes opened to the bed next to you, sasha's figure vacant from her bed. you remembered asking for some space before you left but you thought she'd had return by now. it was dark, but it couldn't have been too late as orange rays from the sun were attempting to shine through your curtains, making you assume that it was just around seven, the sun setting soon. but you craved the warmness that was around you a little more, pulling down to reach for your blanket, until your body froze.

the hand wrapped around your waist, much like in the photographs engraved in your brain twitched and that same sickness felt like it was resurfacing yet you dared to move, tears brimming again subconsciously.

"eren," you mumbled under your breath.

"hm?" oh, so he was awake.

your face scrunched up in agony at the sound of his voice, your eyebrows coming together, your eyes shutting and you biting your lip so hard the taste of blood collected on your tongue. "please," your breathing began to thicken again, you wanted to move his arm but your body was almost stuck in place. "move."

eren groaned against your back, nose nuzzling into the back of your neck and you mentally cringed. "get out," you said abruptly, body jolting at the sudden movement and you felt him still behind you. how did he even get in? and then you immediately regretted making an spare dorm key and giving it to him only a couple months into your relationship. "get out, get out." you finally regained some self control, your body slithering from under his until your arm touched the floor and you crawled away from your own bed. "go, what are you doing?" you lashed, his gingerly stare making you aware of the tears cascading down your face again.

eren stared back at you finally lifting his head up from the spare pillow that he always slept with when he spent nights with you, the pillow that stayed tucked away on your bed and the same pillow that you'd have to wash and get rid of that stupid recognizable cologne he wore, the same cologne that would linger on most of his clothing that you owned. "_____,"

"no, leave, please leave, i can't do this."

eren seemed genuinely confused, sitting up completely now and scooting forward until his legs dangled off the bed. "baby, what's-"

you winced at the nickname and clutched at your stomach, feeling the emptiness inside from the lack of food, yet you still felt the urge to dispel anything inside of it still. "please leave." you almost felt lightheaded, you felt as if you weren't being heard and you were sick.

the significant sound of the dorm keycard slot beeping until sasha's figure came back in, "_____, i left the key hear but luckily i had a keyca-" her voice slowly died down as she studied the scene of the dorm, your body on the floor away from your bed and eren's figure sat on the same bed, both pair of eyes now looking up at her."

"what the hell?" sasha stormed over to eren grabbing his arm in a feeble attempt to pull him off of your bed. although she wasn't strong enough eren did stand up, mainly because of your pleas for him to get out just earlier. "get out! she doesn't want you here, weirdo!" sasha exclaimed pointing towards the door clear anger flashing in her eyes. "and don't just come in here uninvited again!"

those green eyes that would unknowingly keep you up for nights after today kept that confused gaze on you as he walked around you and made you feel stupid and small. we're you overreacting? were those pictures just your imagination?

"_____..." eren mumbled before looking at your frame on the floor once more.

“get out!” sasha exclaimed.

you weren't sure if he was just that dense or he was hiding the fact that he knew exactly what he did. the door shut and you immediately began crying again, this time harder. wails of pain escaping your throat. your cries were loud and full of pain. you clutched at your shirt as if to grasp at your broken heart.

"oh my gosh." sasha dropped her keycard and bag onto your bed where she still stood and got on the floor with you pulling you as much into her lap as possible. you felt fragile in your hands, her gripping at the sweatshirt around your body. she listened to your cries, responding with "i knows," and "mhm," as if they were telling her a story, simply listening to the aching noises that were leaving you.

"sasha," you finally mustered the courage to speak a few words again, although they resembled your words from yesterday. "i'm hurting."

"i know, i know."

"i loved him." you blinked so you could see a little clearer, lifting your head to look at sasha, bringing your hands to either side of her head, your thumbs stroking her jaw. "i thought he loved me? why? why?"

sasha couldn't bare to look at your sad, damaged eyes and instead pulled you back against her chest. although your sobs died down she could feel the convulsing of your body and opted to hold you for as long as you needed.

“does he even know what he did? does he even know how much pain i’m in right now?”

sasha couldn’t even answer that question. by the looks of it he didn’t, maybe he was high? under the influence? but either way you didn’t have the courage to confront him about it.

instead you spent the next couple of weeks sulking, mending to your broken heart and staying out of eren’s way, no matter how many times he tried to communicate with you. it seemed as if word got to him on what he did, sasha getting connie to talk to him, and as angry as eren got there was no denying what he did, especially with photo evidence.

your phone blew up with his own pleas begging for forgiveness, begging for you to talk to him, to come back, to do something.

but you were fragile, and you knew that even being in his vicinity would tear you apart bit by bit. you didn’t want to weep in front of him, you didn’t want to be in front of him in the first place, nor did you want his pity.

did you want to get back with him? the question still pondered on your mind constantly but both sasha and hitch refused to let you, and they were perfectly fine with the situation going unresolved if it meant better for you.

"so?" hitch pointed the straw of her frappucino at you. "i really think you just need to try exploring your options, just living a little. you can go to the next party with sasha and i, i promise we won't mind."

“hitch i want her to go to a party too but i don’t know about her getting with anyone.” sasha swirled the stick inside her latte to mix it up before sucking the liquid off the end.

now it had been a few months since you had seen eren, a few months since you began to heal yourself slowly compared to those first couple weeks. you had to really thank hitch and sasha for being there most of the way for you, and you had to especially thank netflix and sleep for being two of your greatest distractions.

you never officially broke up with eren, sure you saw him in the hallways (and you were certain he saw you as well) you had a couple lectures with him where the two of you would sneak glances at each other; which kind of reminded you of when the two of you first began liking the other. he never made an effort to speak to you after the first couple weeks when he would text your phone constantly, as much as it seemed like he wanted to still.

"i don't know hitch. i haven't even got rid of his stuff yet. they're still sitting in that stupid box in the corner of me and sasha's dorm." sasha nodded in confirmation taking a bite of her biscuit.

"but i don't think that box should stop you from getting out the house again. you haven't really been anywhere besides maybe target with sasha. plus i miss seeing you!"

you rolled your eyes with a slight chuckle. "you see me at least three times, especially when... you know, you came like everyday at first."

hitch shrugged her shoulders and then took another sip of her drink. "but do you think i can start seeing you more is the question? c'mon this is the first step towards a new life without that bastard."

you pondered on the thought before a small sigh escaped your lips, and you slowly nodded your head.

"really?" hitch exclaimed, her hands reaching across the table to grab yours. "you mean you won't mind coming to the party this saturday?"

you narrowed your eyes at hitch. "this was your plan wasn't it?"

"yes, yes it was. but there's no backing out now."

"yes, hitch, i'll come to the party this saturday." you decided that maybe this would help your healing heart in the least and you would try to push aside the boy that broke it for the couple hours just to spend time with your friends. but you couldn't help and wonder, "what if i bump into him at the party? or he tries to talk to me?"

sasha looked at hitch and hitch looked back before both turning their eyes to you. "we can be with you the whole time if that's the case."

"i wouldn't want to ruin your fun."

"babe, hanging out with you is one of the points of bringing you, ____." sasha smiled.

you internally twitched at the mention of the nickname ‘babe’ but neither one of your friends seemed to tell. you were getting better with reacting to things that reminded you of him, and you didn’t hysterically start crying at the slightest mention or object that related to him.

"we got you, okay?"

you frowned slightly but gave sasha a smile back and squeezed hitch's hand in the slightest. "yeah, okay."

this was the beginning of a new life for you, you wouldn’t spend your days sulking after him anymore. cheers to you and your first big step forward.

#eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger #attack on titan #eren angst #eren aot