Tumgik
#he’s such a good person for what reason
turtleblogatlast · 2 days
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No but like every time I think about Splinter and what he had to go through just to keep the boys alive, my heart hurts for him so badly. Is he perfect? No not at all, but none of them are and by god does he love his sons.
The fact that all of them are alive, and grew to thrive despite the circumstances surrounding them is a testament of how much Splinter loves his boys. He raised four babies following the most traumatic time of his life, all alone with nothing but the sewers to house them (to hide them.) I feel like he’s not given the credit he deserves for all he’s done.
And I get that it’s easy to hold up his flaws and faults when it comes to parenting, I myself like looking into them because flawed characters are super interesting and said flaws make them more realistic and engaging, but he tries, and again, so many others would have given up on the boys or failed along the way but Splinter didn’t.
He’s their father, for all his faults he did his damndest to make sure they survived.
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt splinter#rise splinter#he’s not perfect as I’ve said#and he’s got a whole slew of flaws and faults#but he’s a person - we are all flawed#he loves his sons dearly dearly dearly even if he struggles along the way to show that#parenting is not easy! especially as a traumatized mutant who is forced to do it alone#side note but I think this is one of the reasons why it kiiiiiinda ruffles my feathers to see so many people assign parentification to Raph#and in turn make Splinter out to be way worse and way more distant than he is in canon?#like idk I just don’t see what so many others see ig but maybe that’s just me#i guess my thoughts are like- let parents have flaws without villainizing them?#they’re still parents even if they mess up?#we can discuss the repercussions of a parents actions on a child while not casting that parent as an awful person#parents are peopleeee#I could go on but yeahhh#idk it bothers me seeing splinter’s efforts undermined when he’s been through so much#idk if ppl realized this by now but I love me some flawed characters#tho I do think in this fandom the ones whose faults are discussed the most are like#Splinter mostly then Draxum then Leo#of the main cast#and in Splinters case in particular his faults are made to cover his good qualities which makes me sad#because he is SO INTERESTING#they’re all flawed characters and tbh so interesting because their flaws are ALSO their strengths in many aspects
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verahella · 1 day
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yuji had never been in gojo’s office before.
he hadn’t even known such an office existed until he and nobara convinced megumi to let them fly on nue and ended up with their faces smooching a glass window (which was now broken) and they’d been called into gojo’s office for a punishment.
it was extravagant, consisting of a dark oak desk, a floor to ceiling window, marble floors and whatnot. but mostly empty, no traces to suggest that anybody occupied it. it was devoid of any warmth and gojo’s personality—except for a frame on the desk that caught yuji’s eye.
“hey sensei, isn’t that your girlfriend?!”
gojo’s eyes flit to the photograph before he sighs, “she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”
“what?!” nobara screeches, “she was the best you could find! i mean good for her, she’s learnt her standards but now you’re definitely gonna die alone, sensei.”
even megumi’s lips were twisted into a frown.
yuji stutters, backtracking before they get kicked out of school, “wha-what she means to ask is why’d you break up? you guys were perfect for each other.” he pauses, “i think.”
he’d only seen her a few times around campus but she seemed like the sweetest person on earth, based on their few interactions. nobara definitely seemed to approve of her.
gojo props his legs up on the table, shrugging with his hands behind his head, “multiple reasons. first one, she’s out to torture me.”
“i am not.” the trio whips around to see you standing in the doorway, arms crossed with a flat expression. you lift up a bag, “you forgot your lunch. again. it’s been three times this week and it’s only wednesday.”
“as i was saying, she maimed my crotch permanently and lost any hope of mini me running around—”
“it was night and i got jumpscared by your radioactive blue eyes.”
“and then, she launched war on me and didn’t let me cuddle her.”
“because you came home bleeding with an injury that would worsen if i suffocated you.”
“and the worst of all,” gojo narrows his eyes at you, “she ate my kikifuku.”
“you’re a billionaire. just buy some more.” you shrug, placing the cover on his desk.
confusion lingers in the bemused side eyes of the students after the…interesting conversation.
“sure, they all sound heinous crimes…” yuji continues hesitantly, “but is it really worth breaking up over?”
“who said anything about breaking up? i just said that she wasn’t my girlfriend anymore.”
“now i’m even more convinced you were dropped on your head as a baby.” nobara blurts out but megumi’s eyes are already travelling to the ring on your finger, which gojo holds up to show off.
“she’s not my girlfriend anymore because she’s my wife!” he beams.
“fiancée.”
“for now.”
you roll your eyes but a fond smile blooms on your lips and gojo kisses your hand softly, “kids, say hi to mrs gojo. now i call dibs on yuji being the flower boy, megumi the ring bearer and nobara—”
“hold up. maybe we should think this through—”
“no wasting time. i need ijichi to sign the official babysitter documents for our future baby.”
“satoru!”
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alphabetboyluvr · 22 hours
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habits of a clandestine nature | jjk
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pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)
warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao
wordcount: 16k
note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
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It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.
Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.
You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.
Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.
From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.
All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.
Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.
It's not that you actively want to see him.
You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.
He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.
God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.
The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.
In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.
Has told you a lot.
Told you far too much.
Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.
Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.
And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.
You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.
But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.
You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.
It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.
But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.
Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?
Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.
The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.
The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.
The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.
For a minute, you feel vindicated.
It doesn't last.
For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.
The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.
He always slept well in your bedroom, though.
Funny, that.
He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.
Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.
The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.
"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.
Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.
"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.
They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.
There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.
It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.
"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"
"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"
"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."
On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.
Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.
Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.
After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.
Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.
Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.
Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.
"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"
"Obviously."
"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."
"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."
Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.
And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.
While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.
But summer was lonely.
Or at least it was.
Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.
Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"
The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.
After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.
When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.
"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.
Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.
Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.
But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.
He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.
A routine grew. Habits formed.
Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.
Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.
The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.
He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.
And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.
Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.
But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.
Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."
"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.
You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.
The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.
But he was, and it was lovely.
The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.
"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."
It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.
Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.
Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.
But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.
Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.
You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.
It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.
"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.
"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.
"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"
On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.
"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."
A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.
"Sure."
There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.
"You think I can't be trusted?"
"I think it's foolish to trust any man."
His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.
"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"
"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.
"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"
With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."
"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.
"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"
"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.
"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.
Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."
Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.
A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.
And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?
His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.
Have you not served him enough?
You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.
"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.
He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.
"Excuse me, sir."
Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.
"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.
More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.
Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.
Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.
You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.
Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.
"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."
Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.
Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.
You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
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21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.
You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.
As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.
But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.
Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.
But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.
You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.
Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.
It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.
In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.
"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"
The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.
It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud. 
In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.
But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.
You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.
Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.
Where you at? It could read. I'm here.
Or maybe, I miss you.
I can't sleep without you.
This is so stupid. Can I come over?
It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.
Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.
You: you not coming in tonight?
You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x
You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?
Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.
Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.
Jackass Wang: party tonight
You: so????
One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.
Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery
"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.
It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.
Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.
You: i like it better when i don't see you x
Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.
You: they'd rather die :) x
Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
You: you just can't take no for an answer
Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.
You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????
The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.
Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.
You: charming x
Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.
You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.
Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.
The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.
Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.
Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.
Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.
"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.
Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.
"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"
Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"
His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.
Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."
He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.
"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"
"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."
"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."
"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."
Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.
"Don't give me that bull."
"It's not bull!"
"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"
"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"
His expression is flat. You are paper thin.
He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.
He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.
"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"
"No!"
Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.
Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"
"I'm not!"
"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"
Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.
"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."
"Yes, we are."
"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.
"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."
"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.
He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.
"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"
With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.
"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."
You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.
As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.
By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.
"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.
There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.
Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.
Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.
Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.
It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.
But he did, and you damn well know it.
Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.
"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."
But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."
You're silent when he says this.
Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.
But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.
Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.
"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."
Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.
Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.
Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.
He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.
"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."
"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"
"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."
He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.
They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.
Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.
"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."
"Who?" Jimin chirps.
Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."
"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"
"I said leave it."
"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.
"No one."
"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"
"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."
"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."
Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.
"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.
They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?
"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.
It's not that he's ashamed. 
It's that you're separate.
When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.
If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.
He doesn't want that.
He wants you to be a safe haven.
A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.
But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.
He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.
"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"
With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."
"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"
"You really have to ask?"
For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.
They always have done.
When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.
Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.
How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.
Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.
When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.
So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.
"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"
"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."
Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.
The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.
It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.
The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.
The irony isn't lost on you.
"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"
"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.
If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.
All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.
One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.
When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.
You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.
Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.
Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.
"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."
"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."
"It's not my new home—"
"MONTGOMERY!"
The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.
"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."
Nothing happened between you.
It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.
"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.
"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."
Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.
Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.
It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.
"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.
Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."
As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.
How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.
"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."
Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.
A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.
"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."
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It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.
They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.
And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.
Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.
The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.
Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail. 
Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.
In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.
Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.
The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.
Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.
Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.
But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.
A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.
"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.
The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.
Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.
"Cut the bullshit," he says.
"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"
"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"
Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.
"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."
Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.
Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.
You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.
"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"
It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.
"Mistaken identity."
"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"
You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.
He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.
"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.
"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."
"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.
With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.
"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."
Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.
"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."
Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.
He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.
It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.
Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.
This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.
You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.
Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.
As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.
Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.
But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.
"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"
Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."
"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."
And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.
If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.
He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.
But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.
It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.
Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.
"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.
"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."
The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.
"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"
"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."
Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.
"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"
"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"
It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.
But every cloud has a silver lining.
"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."
He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.
"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."
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The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.
A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.
And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.
Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.
The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.
"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"
You're gonna kill Taehyung. 
In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.
"Safe," you grimace.
Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"
"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.
"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.
"My sentiments exactly."
Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge
"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."
"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."
Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.
"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.
"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."
Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.
"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.
The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.
You wish you didn't.
"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.
"Excuse me?" 
"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"
"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."
"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"
Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.
And so he doesn't try.
"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"
You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.
Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.
You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.
"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.
"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"
It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.
"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."
"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.
"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."
"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"
"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"
He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."
Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.
"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"
He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.
"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"
"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.
"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."
"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.
The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.
"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."
"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"
He's silent, now. Cowardly.
"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."
"You know that's not—"
"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.
Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.
Feels like it, too. 
"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.
"Tell you wha—"
"That you were a virgin."
Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!
Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.
"Hardly relevant, is it?"
"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"
"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"
"I didn't ghost you."
"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."
"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"
"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"
"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."
"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."
"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"
The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.
"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."
You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.
To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.
With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.
Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.
With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.
Looks down at you.
Is so close you can smell his aftershave.
A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.
"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."
Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.
The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.
"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.
"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."
He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."
The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.
Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.
Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.
"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"
The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?
All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.
"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"
The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.
Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.
And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.
It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.
Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.
An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.
When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.
While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.
He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.
He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.
As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.
And so it's up to him to put you back together again.
"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"
His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to.  Also knows that he does need to.
"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."
"But I—"
"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up." 
He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.
"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"
His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.
An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).
"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.
The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"
"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"
"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."
Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.
Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.
It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.
"I want you," he husks against your lips. 
"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.
"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."
"And what was that?" You encourage.
There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer. 
Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."
And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?
Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.
The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.
"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.
"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"
"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."
He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.
"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.
"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.
As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.
"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"
You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."
He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.
"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.
"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.
"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.
There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.
"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."
Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."
"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.
And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.
His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.
"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"
"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.
"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."
With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.
Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.
His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.
Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."
The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.
He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.
When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.
Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.
But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.
"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."
If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.
Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.
Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.
You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.
But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.
As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"
Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.
"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."
The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.
"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.
"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.
"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."
It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.
His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.
"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.
"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.
"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."
"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"
"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.
He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.
"S'all there is. They alright?"
"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"
"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."
His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.
"I don't care. I don't want them—"
You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.
"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"
When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.
"I promise," you swear.
As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.
"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"
"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"
"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.
"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."
With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.
"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.
"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.
"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."
"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.
You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.
"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.
Your argumentative streak wants to fight.
You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."
His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.
In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.
Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.
Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."
Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.
He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.
"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.
The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.
You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.
"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."
"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"
His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."
And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.
But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.
Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."
"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.
"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."
"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.
"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole. 
His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes. 
Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"
There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."
But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."
"You're stupid."
"You're stupider."
"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before. 
His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"
"Think you were gonna make me cum."
"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."
His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.
The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.
As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.
The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.
"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.
"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."
You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.
"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.
"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"
It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.
"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.
"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."
The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with. 
His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.
But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"
That's the thing.
He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.
Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.
"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."
Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.
And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.
"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"
You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.
"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."
It's been half an hour.
He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.
The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck. 
Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.
Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.
"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.
"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."
"We?" You question, incredibly confused.
"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.
Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.
As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.
Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.
"Sorry, what the fuck?!"
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tim-shii · 1 day
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aventurine as a boyfriend!
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a/n: 2.1 broke me i am no longer the same person i was before the update how can they do this to me 😔 heres bf aven i needed to show him my love i just had to
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bf!aventurine who take you out on dates. mostly cafe hopping or a romantic candlelight dinner in your favorite restaurant.
bf!aventurine who sends you money out of nowhere and without any proper reason.
“did you just send me a hundred thousand credits?” you ask aventurine who’s sat beside you on the couch, his cheek squished against your shoulder as he scrolls through his phone.
"yes."
“why?”
“i don’t know.. i was bored.”
bf!aventurine who gives you little gifts or trinkets, saying he passed by them and couldn’t help but think you might like them. his trinkets varies from little gems to keychains that glitter under the sun.
bf!aventurine who doesn’t like it when you cheat during game nights. he’s not above sulking, giving you the cold shoulder, when he finds out you peeked on his cards when he went to grab a glass of water.
bf!aventurine who swears he’s not a jealous person. he trusts you, with all his life. but he can’t help the sudden anxiety creeping up his chest when he sees you conversing with his good friend, doctor ratio.
bf!aventurine who buys you things you mentioned in passing.
bf!aventurine who buries himself just a little more closer to the back of your neck at night when plagues of memories haunt him and render him unable to sleep.
bf!aventurine who has a habit of kissing your inner wrist. he can be in the middle of a poker game with your sat beside him and he’ll absentmindedly lift your hand up to his lips.
bf!aventurine who likes it when you play with his hair, especially the blond strands on his nape. he’ll even dip in for a kiss whenever you tuck his hair behind his ear.
bf!aventurine who drags you into the shower with him after a long day at work. he’ll spend five minutes just hugging you under the running water before washing up.
bf!aventurine who basks in your undying love and affection. but he can never get himself to tell you that. he’s content with laying in your arms and feeling your lips all over his face.
bf!aventurine who loves the way you kiss his neck. your warm breath brushing against the marking on his neck. one that reminds him of what he went through but you kiss the area like it’s a sacred spot.
bf!aventurine who dances with you in the kitchen of your shared apartment. palm to palm, nose to nose and music provided by him as he sways you two to his own rhythm.
bf!aventurine who lets you style his hair however you want. you want to adorn his hair with jewels? he has a box of assorted ones on his desk, go wild. you want to braid it? go ahead, just be careful not to tangle it.
“you look pretty, aven.”
“i have a hello kitty clip on my bangs.”
“very pretty, indeed.”
bf!aventurine who likes it when you sit on his lap. whether you’re cuddling while watching a movie or you tagged along with him to the casino. you’re always gonna be on his lap with his arms around your waist.
bf!aventurine who didn’t really say ‘i love you’ but instead traced the words on your back. his fingertips gliding across your skin sends shivers down your spine.
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likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist
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₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬
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pairing: businessman!rafe x assistant!reader
summary: ward introduces his new assistant to the office, and rafe has to have her.
warnings: lots of flirting, secrecy, super sweet fluff, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting
word count: 3.2k
a/n: i wasn’t expecting you guys to love the moodboard so much!! thank you to those who requested more of this pairing, i see all of your asks, comments, and reblogs <3 if you couldn’t tell by the summary, this specific oneshot is telling how everything started, so there is a very slight time skip. don’t worry though, it’s nothing crazy.
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“so if you’ll come this way, you’ll see the meeting room, which is where i’ll properly introduce you to the team in about fifteen minutes,” you followed mr. cameron, your new boss, around the cubicle packed room, smiling softly at those who cared enough to look up from their computers. “there’s not really much of a dress code, all i ask is that you dress for a corporate setting.” he lead you back to his office, where he asked you to take a seat.
“i won’t work you too much, i really just need someone who can keep me and my appointments with my clients organized. my son rafe, who is co-owner at the moment, will also be in need of your assistance, no worries though all he needs from you is to keep him updated on shipments and checking back in with clients to make sure they are more than happy with our services.” mr. cameron pushed a small stack of papers towards you.
“this is just the code of conduct, some expectations for here in the office. i’m gonna go take a phone call, and you can sign those documents in the meantime.” he patted your shoulder on his way out. you took a breath, flipping through the pages. everything looked pretty standard, all drugs prohibited, anyone under the influence will be asked to go home and will be terminated effective immediately, no firearms or weapons allowed while being in the building, etc…
then there was one rule, the only rule, in bold: ANY AND ALL ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS WITH THOSE OF HIGHER POSITIONS WILL RESULT IN TERMINATION OF BOTH PARTIES.
you hummed to yourself, mindlessly signing the papers with no clue of what was ahead of you. just as you finished signing the last page, mr. cameron walked in, flashing you a smile as you handed him the papers back. “do you have any questions for me?” he typed something up on his computer, the printer starting up soon after. “i do, actually. how come the rule for forbidding romantic relationships with higher ups the only one bolded? it’s not a problem or anything! i’m just wondering..” you cleared your throat.
“ah,” he stood up, “well the reason why it’s emphasized is because we want to avoid any and all legal troubles. lawsuits, investigations, it’s a really bad look for my company, and i would rather my employees keep their personal lives out of the office, especially those who are being paid very generously.” you nodded in understanding. “i see. very smart move.” you adjusted the ring on your finger, accepting a paper with your photo on it from mr. cameron.
“why, thank you. anyways, this is a temporary id for when you want to leave and enter the building. rafe is usually in charge of getting the id badges for our employees so he should have that ready for you by the end of the day.” he glanced down at his watch. “shall we get you introduced to everyone?” you nodded, making sure your head was held high as you two made your way to the already full meeting room. while everyone had been making small talk, rafe stayed silent while he stared at the blank presentation screen.
“good morning, everyone! i hope all is well, we’re here to discuss the construction plans for the skyscraper on the mainland, and i also have a new employee i’d like for everyone to meet,” rafe only saw your back profile, but with the view of your hips swaying in your tight pencil skirt and matching heels, it felt like eternity before you finally turned around, the sight of your perfect blowout and soft makeup doing something to his brain.. and his pants.
“this is y/n, and she is the new assistant to rafe and i. she comes from the mainland and has a degree in architecture, she is surely an amazing addition to our team, so i only expect the best treatment for her, as i do all of you.” you smiled, meeting everyone’s gaze, your heart stuttering in your chest when your eyes landed on him. he looked emotionless, but little did you know he was thinking of all the ways he could take you on his work desk.
“you can go ahead and take a seat, and we’ll get started.” you looked around, the only open seat being next to the man that made your stomach flip with a simple glance. you walked over, letting out a small ‘sorry!’ as you sat down, your knee bumping his. he didn’t acknowledge you at first, but once all eyes were on mr. cameron, rafe leaned in to speak to you quietly. “y/n, that’s your name?” you smelt his cologne before you could speak, the scent becoming your new favorite.
“yes, and yours?” rafe took your hand in his. “rafe cameron.” it took everything in you not to let your jaw drop. of course the insanely hot one was off limits. “nice to meet you.” you looked down, unable to maintain eye contact with him. rafe didn’t let go of your hand right away, clearly enjoying how shy he made you. “i’m assuming my father showed you around already?” you nodded, crossing one leg over the other. apart of you was slightly annoyed with yourself. you weren’t a shy girl, you didn’t avoid the stares of men, but rafe? he was a totally different ballpark.
“we’ll talk in my office after this.” he let go of your hand, smiling at you softly as you took out a notebook and pen, jotting down notes from what mr. cameron was going over. just like the rest of his father’s meetings, he wished this one would hurry up and end, wanting nothing more than to get you to himself already. thirty minutes later, and you found yourself sitting in front of rafe, both of you laughing about a topic he brought up.
“you know.. you carry conversation very well. a lot of people don’t know how to do that.” you adjusted your purse on your shoulder, both of you exchanging looks. he was wearing a white button down and slacks, his sleeves rolled up slightly. “thank you.” your words came out soft, the urge to steal a peek at his arms nearly unbearable. rafe examined you for a moment. “you dress very nicely, i like that.” he walked around his desk, leaning on the hardwood. “is this satin?” he rolled the fabric of your sleeve between his fingers.
if it was anyone else, you would’ve curled your lip in disgust before storming out the room and never looking back, but with the way this man towered over you, his eyes hungry as he stared you down, you met his gaze. “it is. and this? all leather?” it was a bold move, even for you, but if he was going there, you were going to meet him halfway. rafe sucked in a breath as your fingertips skimmed his belt. his hand came over yours, trailing it down his slacks, “we’re going to get along just perfectly.”
-
the next two weeks are a blur. first, you were too shy to look at this man, now he was stroking your thigh underneath the table during meetings. after he guided your hand over his hardening cock that fated day, it’s been nothing but hell for him, and you were enjoying every second of it. no one suspected a thing, and mr. cameron had actually told you to reside in rafe’s office for the time being while he worked to set you up somewhere nice. while rafe has been doing everything to get you where he wants you, you’ve been teasing him endlessly.
like today, you wore a black lace bra under your blouse, leaving it three buttons too shy so rafe could see what’s underneath. “mrs. thornton is on line one.” you’d bat your eyelashes up at him innocently, his teeth tugging on his bottom lip as he stared at your exposed cleavage. “you’re killing me, woman.” you’d laugh before getting out of his chair so he could take a seat. while he talked on the phone, you thought about the next way to torture him.
before you could start writing a dirty note for him, there was a light knock at the door. “come in!” rafe shouted, resuming his phone call while margaret, the receptionist, brought in the largest vase of flowers you’ve ever seen. “y/n? these are for you, honey.” you blinked, rushing to get up so you could take them out of her hands. “are- are you sure?” there was a small white envelope poking out the top. “positive. ask whoever sent you those if they have a brother.” she winked, leaving you dumbfounded.
you plopped down in one of the chairs in front of rafe’s desk, taking the envelope and revealing the small card inside.
you look beautiful everyday, so you’ll get flowers everyday <3
your head shot up at rafe who was already smiling at you. “sounds good, i look forward to our meeting mrs. thornton. yes, uh huh, alrighty goodbye.” you walked around his desk, rafe moving to face you. “did you get me these?” you took a seat on his lap, the most you ever let him touch you in two weeks. he sighed wrapping his arms around you as you read the card over and over’s again. “i did. ‘figured roses were too practical, so i got you peonies.” you smiled, pecking his cheek. “they’re my favorite.” there was a lot of intimacy going on right now that rafe wasn’t used too, but it was intimacy with you, it felt right.
“good to know. maybe we’ll get you through the catalog.” his hand rested flat on your tummy where your shirt had rode up. “you really didn’t have to do this. i love them.” you brought his coffee cup to your lips, your lipstick staining the rim as you placed the card back in the envelope. “i was thinking.. since tomorrow is the weekend and the office will be closed, why don’t we do something? i’d love to see you prance around in a bikini on my yacht.” he rested his chin in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.
“i bet you would,” you laughed, “that sounds fun. what time should i be ready?” you adjusted yourself, so your legs were hanging off his thighs. “mmm, how about two o’clock? we’ll stay to watch the sunset.” rafe stroked the side of your face, your eyes falling to his lips as you nodded. “i’d like that.” your voice dropped down to a whisper as he leaned in closely, his breath fanning the tip of your nose. “i want to kiss you so bad right now.” his jaw clenched as you ran a hand across his chest. “so kiss me, rafe.” you wrapped an arm around his neck to steady yourself.
just as his lips ghosted over yours, there was another knock at the door. both of you sighed, your foreheads resting against each other’s before you got up, taking the vase of flowers to your desk. “come in!” rafe wore an annoyed expression as mr. cameron walked in. “great timing, dad.” rafe grumbled, making a small smile grace your features. “listen, i need you to stay later and go over some of the projects that have been sent in, and flag the ones you think are worth investing in. i’m leaving so me and rose can catch our flight on time, we’ll be back by monday.” rafe nodded absently.
mr. cameron smiled. “good afternoon, y/n. flawless work these last couple of weeks, i almost forgot how easy things can be when properly organized. you have a great rest of your day.” you returned the gesture, tilting your head slightly. “why, thank you. i hope you have an amazing flight.” mr. cameron walked out, leaving you and rafe alone once again. “just what i wanted to do tonight. work overtime.” you watched as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “i could stay with you, help you out.” he shook his head. “i couldn’t ask you to do that. don’t worry it really shouldn’t take me that long.” you waved him off.
“don’t be ridiculous, i’ll be more than happy to review the submissions with you.” he wasn’t going to tell you no, so he let you have your way. after a few hours passed by, you made your way to the front desk where margaret was getting ready to leave. “you have a good weekend, y/n. see you monday!” you laughed at how quickly she got on the elevator to go home. you walked over to the copier room and grabbed the papers fresh out the printer. “well, office is officially empty. margaret just left.” rafe yawned, loosening the tie around his neck. “damn, it’s eight o’clock already?” you placed the papers on his desk, humming softly.
you let your hair down from it’s updo, the waves falling past your shoulders. “what?” rafe was looking up at you with half-lidded eyes. he pulled you down, making you straddle him. “thank you for doing this with me. because of you, we don’t have to stay late after all.” his hands ran up and down your back, untucking your blouse from your pants. you shivered when you felt his fingers against your bare skin. “you welcome.” you tried your hardest to suppress the moan that sat at the back of your mouth.
“do you remember where we were before we were rudely interrupted earlier?” rafe started unbottoning your shirt, revealing your black lacey bra underneath. “fuck.” he closed his eyes, clenching his fists as if he was holding himself back from ravishing you right then and there. you smiled, running your thumb over his bottom lip. “there’s no one here to interrupt us now.” he grabbed the back of your neck, finally taking your lips in a heated kiss.
he groaned, making you grind your hips against his. this kiss was like something you’ve never felt before. there was tension, hunger, the desire building up over these last couple of weeks now rising to the surface in this very moment. the sounds your lips were making was enough to make you pull away, your cheeks reddening. “you gonna get shy on me now?” he tilted your chin up so you could meet his stare. “no.. i’ve just wanted to do that ever since i saw you in the meeting room.” rafe smiled, standing you up.
“you wanna know what i’ve wanted to do since i saw you in the meeting room?” his fingers worked to unbutton your pants, sliding them down your legs before pushing you back on his desk. you sucked in a breath as he ran a hand up your thigh, his finger slipping underneath the waistband of your underwear before letting the elastic snap against your skin. you gasped softly, your head falling back as rafe trailed kisses from your navel to your neck, slotting himself between your thighs where he leaned his weight on you.
you shuddered, his hands cupping your tits through your bra as he laid you down. “i thought about bending you over, fucking you to tears while you struggle to keep quiet.” his words elicited a moan from you, your hips lifting so he could slip your underwears off. “as much as i want to do that right now, i want to taste you more.” your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed wet kisses to your inner thighs, his arms locking you in so you couldn’t close them.
you thought you knew what pleasure felt like, but once you felt rafe’s tongue plunge into you, your mind went blank as he went to work on your clit, your back arching off the hardwood. he switched from slow languid strokes to fast flicks that made you see stars. “feels so good, rafe,” your hands shot down to hold onto his, your nails digging into his wrists. “yeah? like it when i tongue fuck you like this?” your body jerked when you felt him at your entrance, your toes curling in your heels.
rafe was loving this. you tasted so much better than he imagined, his cock straining against the fabric of his slacks. just making you moan and whine was enough to make him feel like he could cum in his pants. “please,” you whimpered, “please fuck me.” rafe pulled away, snaking up your body to align with your lust filled gaze. “i want to fuck you, baby, i do. but i want the first time i fill you up with my cock to be more heartfelt. i promise tomorrow that’s all we’ll do.” your heart swelled at his want to make you feel special.
“okay,” you whispered, tasting yourself on his lips. before you had a chance to think, he shoved two fingers inside you, thrusting them while his thumb rubbed hard circles on your clit. he was unforgiving, the wetness of your cunt echoing in the confines of his office. “oh, fuck,” your eyebrows knitted together as your mouth fell open, his eyes burning into your face. “do you hear how fucking soaked you are?” your chest was heaving at this point, your eyes rolling back as your thighs threatened to close around his hand.
the force alone was making you squirm, your orgasm so close you could taste it. with his thumb rubbing your clit faster, and his fingers curling inside of you, hitting that spot that made you scream, you came with a cry of his name. “oh, that’s it baby, that’s it.” he cooed, your breath stuttering while you shook in pleasure. you felt like fireworks were going off in your tummy, your eyes screwed so hard shut that you could see colors behind them.
“can’t- can’t anymore,” you whined, overstimulation taking over. he didn’t stop, determined to pull one more orgasm out of you. rafe kissed you again, swallowing all of your whimpers and moans as he managed to push you towards the edge one last time tonight. “fuck!” your mewled, your eyes shooting open when you felt a gush between your legs. “o-oh! i’m sorry.” you looked at rafe’s shirt that was not wet with your slick. “sorry for what, beautiful? i was hoping i could make you do that.” he pecked your forehead, easing you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.
“you’re so perfect, you know that?” you blinked, your eyes shining up at him. “i don’t think i’ll ever be ready for this.” rafe groaned as you palmed him through his pants. “i don’t think i’ll be ready either.” he laughed, buttoning your shirt as you sat up. your legs were like jelly as you pulled on your underwear, rafe dressing you while you sighed blissfully. once you were both put together, rafe carried your purse and your vase of flowers for you as you two rode down the elevator to the empty lobby. he put your stuff in your car, making sure to shower you in kisses before letting you go in the driver’s seat.
“see you tomorrow?” he was leaning against your window as you nodded. “i look forward to it. goodnight, rafe.” he smiled. “goodnight, gorgeous.”
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exhaslo · 2 days
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Can you do like a God Miguel and devil fem reader, this is my first request so please no hate 😭 Oh yeah AND SMUTTTTT
That man is basically a God, haha. Usually I see this request the opposite way, so this is going to be so much fun!
Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, teasing, taunting, handsy, oral sex (m receiving), riding, rough sex, dirty talk, doggy style, creampie
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"C'mon, Big Boy. Afraid to show a lil ol' devil like me what a taste of Heaven looks like?"
This was a sight to behold. No one had ever dared to question or even go against Miguel's ruling. There was a reason why the two dimensions were split between Heaven and Hell. There were a whole list of reasons.
One of them, being devils like you.
You gave a wicked smile towards Miguel, the God of Heaven himself, the ruler of all Angels. Hell, the very man whom separated the Angels and Devils. He was one who controlled all. One who could change the course of fate itself.
"What's a Sinner like me to do in order to enter your pearly white gates of Heaven?" You cooed, getting on your knees.
"You have already made your choices in life. You must live with the consequences of your actions." Miguel spoke.
You gave a pout, pressing your lower lip out while pressing your breasts together.
"But, it wasn't all my fault! I'm here to confess my sins and do right. Please, give me a chance? Isn't that what Angels do? Give second chances?" You begged.
Miguel grunted lowly as he shooed his Angels away. They had started to whisper amongst themselves because sadly, you were right. Miguel disliked it when a devil would sway the good hearted with cruel twists of truth.
"You wish to be redeemed? How do you plan on doing so?" Miguel asked. You bit your lower lip, finding his scowl hot,
"I'll do anything."
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Miguel sure had you work your way into heaven. As God, he personally oversaw your progress. Every human you helped; everyone good deed you did; everything was in his sight.
Even your advances. You were sly as you did your job. Poking your ass out slightly; accidently having a tit pop out; hell even using the old lollipop trick. You were doing whatever it took to try and sway Miguel in your favor.
"Hm, excellent work. Perhaps I just might consider your arrival into heaven after a few thousand more good deeds." Miguel hummed. You felt your eye twitch,
"Thousand? Isn't there anything more..." You slid your hand down Miguel's chest, "Intense I could do?"
"Have you forgotten who I am?"
"I haven't," You whispered in his ear, slowly lowering your tank top, "I know that you rule over everything. You see everything while no one can see you. You poor stressed God."
"I'm not stressed." Miguel huffed as he glanced around the human world, "I know what you've really been after this whole time."
"Hm? You have?" You cooed, "Then why entertain me?"
"Because even a God gets bored."
In the next second, both you and Miguel were in what looked like a human hotel room. A smile curled upon your lips as you spread your legs on the bed, slowly removing your top. You gave Miguel a seductive look, motioning him over,
"So bored that you'll entertain a devil?" Miguel scoffed,
"So bored that one might say I am stressed." He tried to change the topic, but sighed, "Sometimes even I grow jealous of how easily humans find pleasure."
You raised a brow, your smile growing wider. You sat up, reaching for Miguel. Your hands stroking down his chest as you threw your top across the room.
"Allow me to give you a show then?" You whispered.
Swapping places with Miguel, you proceeded to give him a little lap dance. As you moved your ass against his crotch, you started to take your bra off. For a God like him to entertain a devil like you, oh this was going to be good.
You nibbled against his ear as you took off you pants, revealing no underwear. A chuckle escaped your lips as you glanced down towards Miguel's erection.
"Hm, does mini God wanna play?" You cooed.
"Perhaps I could show you what heaven tastes like after all." Miguel played along.
Oh, that made you wet. You hands were all over Miguel now. You just had to strip him, but slowly. You cute little devil tail twirled as you started to grind against Miguel's white robes. You stroked his face, watching his temptation grow,
"Shall I do all the work?" You whispered. Miguel just smirked,
"Weren't you the one who needed to get into heaven?"
You huffed as you removed his robes. Eyes widening at the sight of his dick. He wasn't a God for nothing. With a lick of your lips, you got on your knees and started to work your magic. You had good deeds to do after all.
"How many deeds if I make you cum?" You hummed with a lick of his tip.
"A hundred."
"Oh? Then I'll have my work cut out."
"It's a good thing stamina doesn't exist for me." Miguel said with a smirk, which made you quiver.
Ignoring that thought for now, you returned to stroking and sucking Miguel's dick. Of course God doesn't have stamina. Even devils and angels had it. Well, at least you were trying to earn his forgiveness and not the other way around.
You moaned lowly as you started to take Miguel deeper. His dick was thick and long. Just the thought of him ravishing you was making you horny. Not to mention the sounds of his grunts was delicious. If only you were a succubus, this would make a fine meal.
"Still waiting to be impressed." Miguel teased.
You felt your eye twitch as you kept sucking. What more did he want? Gasping, you felt his hands on your head as he started to thrust into your mouth. Tears started to form as you tried to breathe through you nose.
"Here's your first hundred." Miguel groaned.
You nearly gagged as Miguel cummed inside your mouth. Moving away, you swallowed what you could, but coughed up the rest. There was so much. Wiping your mouth, you glanced at his still harden erection and chuckled,
"If that's the case, then this will be easy."
--------
"Are you giving up already? What a poor little slutty devil you are." Miguel mocked as you bounced on his cock.
You were drooling as you rode Miguel. His dick fit so nicely inside you, stretching all your walls as you fucked him. His tip hit the far back of your cervix, making you really see heaven in a different light. You had only fucked him for a few minutes and you felt like giving in.
"Is this all Hell has to offer?" Miguel asked. You flinched, feeling yourself about to cum again,
"N-No...J-Just....so...ah~" You whined, jumping down once more only to cum.
"This is why you need my help."
Miguel held your waist and started to thrust up inside you, causing you to moan and squirm. His dick was too much. He was hitting you in all the right places. Gripping your hips, Miguel watched your tits bounce as he fucked you from below.
"Tsk, tsk, this poor little devil wants forgiveness right?"
"Y-Yesh~"
"I'll give it to you. One load at a time."
You shuddered towards his words as he released a heavy load inside you. Gasping, you felt Miguel press you against the bed, entering you from behind. His grip was still tight as he started to pound your pussy.
"Such lewd sounds you're making. Does my dick feel that good?"
"Ah~ Ah~ Y-Yes!" You cried out, gripping the bedsheets. Miguel chuckled, listening to the sound of his dick slapping into you,
"Can you feel my holy presence inside you? Is this the taste of heaven you wanted so much?"
"Ah~ Mhm~"
You couldn't think. You felt your eyes roll back as you focused on Miguel pounding you. His hot cum just begging to spill before his next load. This was truly paradise.
"So cock drunk that you can't even think. What a slutty devil you are." Miguel hummed, feeling you cum around him, "But you are doing the best deed there is."
"Mhm!" You gasped as Miguel slapped into your gummy walls faster,
"Keep coming to me for your forgiveness and I'll happily give it to your horny pussy." He groaned, cumming once more, "How does that sound?"
"Ah~ Y-Yes~ Yes~" You moaned loudly.
Miguel just chuckled in response, turning you over. You were out of breathe and fucked out. Miguel glanced at your body, watching your devil wings disappear since you had no energy. Another chuckle escaped his lips as he watched his cum leak out of you,
"Don't suppose you want to start a new race? I have unless stamina after all."
You had a long road of forgiveness ahead of you, but you weren't complaining in the slightest.
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I CAN FEEL THE JUDGEMENT FROM ABOVE, BUT WE ALL KNOW I'M GOING DOWN! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!
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bizbat · 2 days
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can you PLEASE write jason coming to you instead of anyone else. like i need that sooo bad please :)))
p.s i love your writing soo much. youre so talented, i am constantly giggling as i read
Always You . . .
🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️
🐼JJK Masterlist🐼
~ You can find more of my works here.
~ This took forever omg, but yesterday I got food poisoning so I finally got some time to write this. Not my proudest work but wtv.
Above all else, he'll always come to you.
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Contrary to popular belief, Jason Todd can be gentle. You've seen it, in the way he slowly flips through whatever book he's reading so you can read it over his shoulder, or how his fingers softly caress your thigh when you're seated beside him as if you're made of glass, or in the warm way he smiles whenever Damian says something the reminds him he's a child.
He's gentle now too, his head resting in your lap, his shirt torn and soaked in what's now dried blood. You can barely keep your eyes open, but you promised you'd watch over him while he slept, just in case something went wrong and he choked on his own blood or vomit.
You had that same nausea when he first came to your apartment at five in the morning, the bile rising in your throat at the smell of metal and the sight of blood gushing out of his gaping-
Just remembering is enough to keep you awake.
It . . . hurts, for many reasons, knowing that he puts his own life in danger for people he doesn't even know. You don't know why he does it, all you know is that for the next week and a half, he'll take a break to let his stitches heal at least a little bit. It's never enough, though. He'll crawl back to you in a few weeks, a sheepish smile on his face and his stitches popped open.
You'll roll your eyes but you always fix them for him. It's become a routine. Not one you're exactly fond of, but a routine nonetheless. It gives you something to look forward to. Sometimes it doesn't feel fair. The fact that he's always on the brink of death when you see him, that he's always covered in scars and wounds and gashes, and above all that, the fact that he only seems to come to you to sew a bullet hole shut or wrap a broken arm.
It does get exhausting, but who are you to complain. At least he trusts you, that's what you tell yourself. He comes to you because you're the only person he lets get that close to him these days, because you're the only person who won't chew his ear off. All things you've told yourself. He comes to you because maybe, possibly, potentially, somewhere deep deep inside, he loves you. That's your favorite excuse.
"You're really pretty, have I ever told you that?" You're so deep in thought you don't even realize those deep cerulean blue eyes are now studying your contemplative expression. When you calm your beating heart you turn your gaze back to his. "I thought you were sleeping?" "I was," He wraps his arm back around your waist, holding himself closer to you. "But you were tuggin' on my hair."
You hadn't even realized you'd been running your fingers through his hair until he pointed it out, though at some point in your thoughts it seems your hands had begun twisting around the raven locs. Upon said realization you immediately pull your hand away, only for him to reach out and pull it right back. "I didn't mind it that much doll." His smirk is enough to clear your mind.
He slowly rises from his position, moving to sit beside you, resting most of his weight on your shoulder with a groan. His hand reaches to his side, where a particularly nasty gash resided, thankfully sewn shut by you. Once the pain subsides he moves his hand to check your handy work. "Not bad, not bad at all." He turns that stupid smile back to you and it fries your brain. "Getting better and better every time."
It does make you smile. You weren't always so good at fixing him up. He'd come in almost every night needing you to patch him back up. It took awhile for you to be able to get him back in shape so fast. "Jay," A long while, actually. "I . . . I've been wondering?" You slowly proposition him. "Yeah? About what?" He is genuinely curious, and he knows that look on your face. He sits up, taking his weight off of you and resting against the arm of the couch.
"Just-nevermind, actually. It's stupid." You hold your hands in your lap. "It's not." He hates when you do that. When you shut yourself down before he even gets a chance to answer. "Ask me, I won't be mad." He leans in closer, his hand on your knee, and he strokes it how he always does. It takes a second to gain back your confidence. "Why-why do you always come to me when you're hurt? I just mean wouldn't it be better to go to Bruce, or Alfred, or I don't know, a doctor?"
The only thing worse than his smile is his laugh. Like an icy breeze on a hot summer's day, or a dark cold wave crashing down on a yellow beach. It warms your heart and makes you feel stupid for asking in the first place, all at the same time. "Why would I go to any of them? I like you." He likes you!!! You were right!!! "Because I'm not a professional. I can barely give you stitches, I don't know what I'd do if you were-if you," The quiver in your voice breaks his heart.
He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. "You don't need to worry about that. It's never gonna happen," He grabs your chin between his forefinger and his thumb and brings your gaze to his. "You take care of me, too much for me to be risky about that." You think you believe him, especially when he presses a kiss to your lips. Though you've tasted it a thousand times, you still wince at the taste of blood still clinging to his chapped lips.
He laughs when you grimace. "Sorry," He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He's quiet for a bit after that, silent as he holds you. Before too long he speaks again, breaking the, admittedly, uncomfortable silence. "I . . . I dunno why I always come to you. I guess I just . . . like it here. I like you." He's not looking at you when he says it, but you know he's being honest, and knowing him, he's understating.
It's enough for you, at least until next time. You relax into his body, satisfied. "I like you too Jaybird. I like you a lot."
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gay-dorito-dust · 2 days
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How high on the clingy/protective scale these boys are …
Dick: a solid 8.5/10.
A very clingy bean.
Dick would be attached to your hip 24/7 if he could but he couldn’t answer that makes him sad.
In the wise words of @obsessedwithromance on one of my recent posts; ‘if Dick was a dog, he’d be a husky.’
And he’d make a very vocal husky at that with how often he whines and whinges whenever you tried to move from his grasp, acting as though every attempt in removing yourself from his arms were an attack against his character. So he will take personal offence to you wanting to leave him out in the cold and desolate place that was your bedroom. 💀
‘Stop trying to get out of my arms.’ He moans, tightening his hold on you as he buried his head into your neck, locking legs with you for extra measure. ‘Dick, I love you but you’re being too clingy for me right now.’ You reply and had just noticed the error of your ways almost immediately and were about to explain yourself but it was already too late, for you had set Dick the human husky off.
‘Me? Clingy? I thought you liked it when I was clingy? Why the sudden change? What did I do wrong? Why don’t you love me?’ Dick began his tirade and you could only lay there and let him talk your ear off -and loudly might I add- about how you apparently didn’t love him enough, which was a bunch of bullshit, but dick was too in his feelings to listen to reason. You’ll have to kiss him to shut him up, there’s no other option.
So once he’s settled down, he’ll go back to cuddling against your back,smiling dopily while you could only congratulate for a job well done at defusing the situation form getting any worse. You love your dramatic human husky and you wouldn’t change anything for anyone.
Jason: 7.5/10 or a 8/10.
The only time you’re seeing this man be clingy as all hell if he’s in a particular mood and want your affection, which might as well be all the time with this man, or after a not so great nightmare.
He would wake up in a cold sweat and immediately look for you and hold you against his chest as though you were his personal teddy bear, only just until his breathing evens out and not so tense in the muscles. Until then he holds onto you tightly and familiarises himself with you in anyway that he could, whether that be counting your eyelashes, noting the different shades that make up your eyes and much more.
At least just enough to help him gain some sense of self and awareness that he was safe and sound from all harm.
Like Jaime, Jason would watch over you like a hawk as Red Hood without a shadow of a doubt, and Jason has his reasons to do so as he knows the type of people who litter the streets of Gotham at night like the back of his hand. He doesn’t want to subject you to that sort of life of constant fear of having to look over your shoulder in hopes that there wasn’t someone following you home.
For in his minds eye, he’s your sole protector and the one thing that stands between the scumbags of the street and you. Jason doesn’t take this position he’s given himself lightly, it’s unlike him to anyway, as your safety is his top priority and he’d do anything to obtain it; whether they way it’s obtained was morally questionable or not, he doesn’t care for as long as your safe, he’ll live to learn with having permanent blood on his hands.
Damian: 5/10 on a good day. 2/10 in general.
He’s not an overly clingy person. Protective? yes. Clingy? No. It’s just not in just nature and he can be very awkward going about it too.
Damian knows he doesn’t have to constantly survey you 24/7, he has more faith in you and your abilities then most. He knows that you won’t call upon him if at all when faced with a situation that you could easily resolve yourself.
However if you were to get hurt on his watch or otherwise, that’s when he gets slightly clingy and will attempt to be within any space with you possible. Damian shows care in a completely different way than most and will more or less act like a guard dog when it came to you.
This little dude will point his sword at anyone that comes into close contact with you while glaring at them, meanwhile you’re having to push the blade of his sword down and away from the poor victim, only for Damian to raise his sword back towards their throat once more.
‘Pack it in.’ You’d hiss.
‘No. You’re practically useless when hurt, so let me deal with this one.’ Damian said.
You purposely ignored the fact that he had just called you useless and instead pushed the blade of his sword down until it was pointing at the floor again. ‘He’s not even a threat, just a regular citizen. So you can stop it with the fear attics now.’ You told him in a hushed tone. Damian meets your eyes with a glare of his own. ‘How you can be certain he’s a harmless civilian? What if he’s a low life thug of an underground drug syndicate on the rise? You can’t allow yourself to trust every face you meet.’ He replies, not one to back down for anyone, not even you.
You sigh as you rubbed the sides of your head. ‘Well at least try not to cause more issue for your dad. I swear between you, Jason, Tim and Dick I don’t know who gives him the most grey hairs.’
Jaime: runner up for Dick’s crown with also a 8.5/10
He’s clingy in a sense that he fears of loosing you constantly.
Khaji-Da doesn’t make the situation any better as it only encourages Jaime’s Innate clinginess tenfold, and now Jaime can’t go a couple of minutes without offering to join you on wherever your going.
He just cares about you very deeply and wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he’d ever lost you despite having the ability to stop any harm from coming your way. So needless to say that you spend most of your time with him and his family is a severe understatement.
It’s not as though he doesn’t trust you, he wholeheartedly does, but that trust doesn’t extend to potential outside threats. Hell, he would even go as far as to watch over you as Blue Beatle, much to the behest of literally everyone that isn’t Khaji-Da because the scarab is just as clingy over you in a sense that you were Jaime’s mate and there for should be within close proximity to him at all times.
It’s endearing but I think it’s about time you told Kahji-Da to cool it on the whole threatening people you talked to with plans to eliminate them…
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mggsv · 2 days
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I DONT SMOKE
playboy! j. jungkook x f!black reader || (18+) || reblogs would be appreciated!
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warnings : college party, mentions of smoking, smoking, smut, slight spanking, smoking during sex
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You hated partying. Not entirely..you’d have fun but it dies down quickly when you had no one to talk to. Boring.
You could stay inside and watch the smoke in the air, drinks ultimately being spilled, and sweaty bodies dancing and getting it on in the corner, or you could stay out outside of the large house.
Being in college was truly an experience for you. You just hated that it wasn’t as exciting for you as the movies made it out to be. “Fuck..” You scratch your head, groaning while pulling out your phone to get an uber. Campus wasn’t too far away.
“Ahshit- damnit.” You hear a faint curse, followed by failed attempts of a lighter being struck. Eyes followed the sound, and you couldn’t have regretted it more. Jeon Jungkook. It’s his party after all. Another reason why you didn’t want to be there.
You didn’t know him personally- only having met a few times. He couldn’t even remember your name if you offered $50. He was a lot of things your disliked. A playboy, a smoker, a hardcore party thrower. Not only that- he does it often, and the girls who brag about how good he is in bed…disgusting.
Now, it wasn’t you trying to put yourself up. You weren’t exactly an innocent person. You enjoyed drinking when in the mood, and you’ve slept with a few people. It’s just him. Bumping into each other became so tiresome for you that you changed route’s to your classes. Him generally just not giving a fuck is what pissed you off.
But now? Now he looks up from his cigarette. Now he slowly starts walking towards you, and you started to wish you had ordered that uber instead of being curious.
“Hey- do you have a light?”
“I don’t.” you hum, looking away from those eyes. Everything about the man was just..stunning, that you could admit. Down to the piercings on his lips to the ones in his ears, and onward to his tattoos and hair that curled past his ears. Truly a beauty. You clear your throat as you tapped your foot impatiently, phone somehow slipping into your pocket.
“Why not?” He asks, getting closer. Jungkook was..a curious one. He could snuff you out in an instant, from his view he knew you didn’t have a lighter.
“Why don’t you have a spare? Coming out here knowing your lighter didn’t work. Honestly, seems to me like you came outside and found an excuse to talk to me.” You found yourself grinning, but looking off to the side. Jungkook almost laughed, covered by a chuckle. Rocking on his heels, he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Was it that obvious?”
I don’t like you. You wanted to say. Everyone knew you didn’t smoke, including him. You could be a party girl if you kept to it. It’s only on nights like this where you reject every pass made at you.
“I don’t smoke.” You sigh, defeated by your will to stay. “Then let’s get a drink.” he counters, smiling. Cheeky bastard.
“Not in the mood.” It was a game at this point. He wanted you, but you didn’t want to be his girl for the night. You didn’t do hookups. No one night stands. Anyone you’ve ever given your body to has stayed for at least a while. Knowing Jungkook he’d never commit.
“Let me drive you home then.” His hand snaked around your waist. “I have an uber coming-“
“Then i’ll wait out here with you.”
“Christ Jeon.” He starts laughing, and you couldn’t help but do the same. He does however, lean into your shoulder. You shiver at the coldness of the metal on his lip. “Let me take you back inside.”
No. you would day no. You didn’t like him, he’s a whore, and you have morals. You’re a woman of society! A man of his..whatever- would not influence you.
~
“Right..r-right there..” You did not say no. Face tucked into Jungkook’s pillow as his cock slipped into your folds once more, tip touching that spot inside of you that sent you over the edge. It’s been so long… “Oh!” You gasp, shuddering at the feeling of his slipping past your rings, and out..and in.
“Fuck..you feels so good. So good f’me hm?” He hums, pulling your hips back onto his cock, fully bottoming out inside of you while everything rested there..deep inside. “hm?” he asks once more, in a hum. He goes to give a slight smack to your ass, watching how it recoiled back. He was enchanted to say the least. From the very first time his eyes landed on your brown ones. Infatuated with every little thing you’ve done. And finally, he go you.
“Yes! y-yes..” You felt your eyes flutter as they rolled back, tips of his fingers stroking at your sensitive clit. Pussy swallowing around his thick cock. “Taking me in so well.” You’re his favorite girl. You weren’t aware, but mentally he was already thinking of the next time he’d get you like this. Ass up while he fucked you until the party’s over.
The thought of the party still going on while he plowed into you turned Jungkook on so much. “S-shit.” Pussy drunk was an amazing feeling, he didn’t get that feeling often.
Jungkook found himself reaching for the lonely cigarette and spare lighter from his headboard. Giving another smack to your ass- making you yelp- he strikes the lighter. You lift your head at the sound, looking back at him. Your face flushed, eyes watery, still, you fucked yourself on his length. He light the cigarette, the smoke seeping from his lips while he tipped his head back.
“Wanna hit?” he smirks, taking it from his mouth and trying to put it between your lips. You could kill him.
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uhhhitsme · 2 days
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i think what a lot of ppl in the saf fandom dont realize is that the lovable, stupid and reckless brute that we see for the majority of saf... isn't who curt was before the fall.
was curt arrogant and careless before? absolutely, and he does do a lot of admittedly stupid things in the glimpse that we get of who he was before owen's "death." but a lot of people tend to write and interpret him as this like, egotistical buffoon who was nowhere near as skilled as owen, or that was constantly putting him and owen's lives on the line and having to get owen to clean up all of his messes. and it always irks me because there's a REASON curt was so confident in himself, why he called himself one of the best spies in the world---because he WAS. he wouldn't be so famed if he hadn't been especially skilled on the field in the first place, and was able to think with a clear mind at times. he couldn't have been piggybacking off his partners work everytime he went out. he was good at what he did, which allowed him to be a little cocky at times.
its important to remember that the curt that we end up getting acquainted with---this asshole who is clearly out of his depth, not thinking logically, and trying to cover it up with false bravado, is curt at his lowest. curt who just got out of a four year break that he spent grieving the lover he essentially killed because he let his flaws get the better of him in order to combat his insecurities (bc someone i follow said that he probably acted that way during a1p1 because he wanted to impress owen and they are SO RIGHT), curt who's desperate to be like the skilled, suave, cool agent that he was before instead of this useless alcoholic mess. to be the agent that would take stupid risks because he knew he could get out of it without consequences. to be the man that owen loved.
his arc is coming to terms with the fact that he can NEVER be that person again, that owen's "death" has irrevocably changed who he is and how he functions. but that that person is still worthwhile, too.
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theerurishipper · 2 days
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Actually Batman shouldn't kill. The reason he doesn't kill is because he believes wholeheartedly in the good in humanity and the sacred value of all life. His belief in rehabilitation and second chances is meant to put him in contrast with the corruption in Gotham, both with regard to the corrupt justice system/police force and the criminals, who all take lives with no regard for its value. Being surrounded by such fatal violence and corruption on a systemic level and even being affected by it on a personal level, and yet finding the strength to not only rise beyond it, but to fight for a way to fix and save the very cause of such unfathomable pain is what defines the character of Batman. Batman is about protecting the innocent and fighting against injustice so that what happened to him never happens to anyone else. Batman is about breaking the cycle of killing and rising beyond it to become a beacon of hope for a better future. Batman killing and taking justice into his own hands is literally the antithesis to his character. If your Batman kills, then he is not Batman.
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thedovesaredying · 2 days
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Werewolf!141 x F!Reader | Sneak Peek
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You've been assigned to Task Force 141 as their designated Werewolf Handler. It will be your job to ensure that the pack work together as coherently as possible through any means necessary. You think it will be an easy enough assignment, just help out the Task Force and then move on to the next one. Unfortunately for you, the rest of 141 aren't so willing to let go of their new human.
A/N: Just a little snippet from an AU I'm playing around with. It'll mostly be a smut-based fic.
Warnings: Mentioned Child Abuse (Simon's Past)
Masterlist: CoD Masterlist
Next
Out of every member of Task Force 141, Ghost is the only person you’ve struggled to get along with. That isn’t to say he’s rude or deliberately trying to make you feel uncomfortable with them, he’s simply not as welcoming as all the others. He has his reasons for that, you know, probably some kind of attempt at keeping you safe, but it’s beginning to get on your nerves.  
You’re a human, the rest of your team are not. A whole pack of werewolves with you right in the middle of it. While normally you would be touched that someone cares so much for your welfare, you’ve spent years learning how to handle werewolves and you’re far from a rookie. It’s gone from being sweet to being nothing but irritating.  
You’re their designated handler, so it’s vital that all of you can work well as a team. You’ve met three of the wolves – Price, Gaz and Soap’s - and for the most part they’re good fun to work with.  
Soap, by far, has the clingiest wolf. He follows you around base, tail wagging and tongue lolling as he acts like your own personal shadow. He’s playful and loves nothing more than to run circles around you while you’re trying to work. According to his file, he comes from a large family of other wolves, so he’s well socialised and both halves of his personality, human and wolf, work together in perfect harmony.  
Gaz’s wolf is a little more reserved when it comes to spending time with those outside of the pack, but he’s just as friendly toward you as Soap, if a little less excitable. He has a beautiful, sleek black coat, unlike Soap’s shaggy brown mop of fur. You’re the only human who can run your fingers through his soft fluff without potentially losing a finger for disturbing his luscious locks.  
Your Captain has the typical grey colouring, with some white sprinkled across his muzzle. He’s the very picture of a regal, perfectly poised wolf. The two sergeants might be unruly when playing together and enjoy riling up one another, but both heed Price’s commands without fail.  
Ghost, however, is an unknown.  
During the full moon your pack run out across the field on base, play wrestling and doing their best to smother you with affection. It’s an evening of fun and a perfect way for the group to destress every month. But Ghost? He’s never there with you.  
While Gaz and Soap grew up with other werewolves teaching them how to behave and coexist with their inner wolves, and Price has had decades of working in the military to develop a vice-like grip on the control over his own, Ghost never had such an opportunity. He wasn’t born as a werewolf, rather turned into one.  
Werewolves born from others of their kind have good relationships with their wolf halves, having existed together even within the womb. Those who are turned suddenly find themselves with a whole separate creature suddenly inhabiting their minds and bodies, and the results of having their psyche torn to pieces so violently can be horrific. You’ve seen firsthand what kinds of aggressive, murderous beasts can be born from a newly changed werewolf rejecting their other half.  
Ghost is one such beast. Turned as a child by his own father in an attempt to make him bigger and stronger, only for it to backfire and create a terrifying monster instead. Instead of learning to embrace his wolf on a full moon and finding others of his kind to play and grow with, a young Simon’s wolf found himself locked up in a metal cage. He would be muzzled and beaten during his father’s attempts at “training” the wolf, then left either chained to a pole or in the tiny cage without food or water for the remainder of his change.  
And that’s merely what Ghost’s medical file is willing to disclose, the majority of the rest blacked out completely. You’re fortunate enough to have access to the highly classified documents, but even they give you very little to work with.  
Price has told you just how difficult it is for the other wolves to work with Simon’s wolf. He never learned how to socialise with other wolves, and it took months before they could all cohabitate without fights breaking out. But still now, years on, Ghost still refuses to spend the full moon with the rest of the pack.  
You were requested specifically to work with the pack to try and help Ghost open up a little and learn to accept his other half. No doubt it’ll be a difficult task given Ghost’s history, but this isn’t your first rodeo. By the end of this you’ll have Ghost’s wolf rolling over for belly rubs like the good boy you know he is.  
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circeyoru · 19 hours
Text
Collection of Overlords _ Part 7 = Requested
[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]
Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 (here)
Song Used: "They're Only Human" ; in Death Note: The Musical (I've attached a link here, but there's also a video format later on when that part comes)
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You hummed a tune while reading through a book and laying on your black cloud platform like a beach chair. Your little moment only cut short when your book was suddenly snatched away. You tilted your head up and saw a pair of silver wings with golden highlights before you saw your book burst into flames in the robber’s hand
“You sure took your time.” You teased as you got up from your comfortable position, opting to sit on your platform. “Trick.”
“Come on! Like you don’t know why!” The being exclaimed enraged with their wings getting puffed up, they took a deep breath and sighed deeply. “Your little Hell made too much of a commotion, Sil. And I told you to call me Noir!”
You shrugged, “That’s not fitting for a character such as yourself, Trick sounds better anyways.”
Trick was similar to you. Actually, he was your opposite. You being the true ruler of Hell makes them the true ruler of Heaven. Of course, unlike how you keep your identity in the shadows, theirs was more well known. Trick was the God that everyone made a big deal around
If one were to see you two together, they’s say the two of you were night and day, good and evil, yin and yang. Not in terms of element, but in appearance as well
While Trick has a pair of lovely giant wings, you had none and would use a black cloud platform to ‘fly’ in some sense. While Trick has hair above the shoulder, you had hair below it. Trick’s eyes remain opened while yours are closed. Trick dons a causal and chill look while you had a more formal and elegant look
Still, whatever you two may appear, those weren’t important as the personalities you two had. If Trick’s name wasn’t an obvious indicator, they are not the holy entity the humans and angels painted them to be
Like you, Trick is absent from a direct presence in your respective realms. However, they love playing around with ‘divine interventions’ or ‘sacred messages’ from the God of this world. Truly, no one was aware of a balance. Even there’s Heaven and Hell, and God is in Heaven overseeing ‘his children’, what of hell?
Yes. You are the ‘God’ of Hell. Though either of you like that title. Since Trick was the one more in the open, you love teasing them about it every time you meet. To you, it’s truly entertaining to see them groan and whine over it
“So~ How was the sleep? Good?” Trick leaned over as their wings flapped from time to time to keep them hovering in the air. 
“Like Hell it was, you put me out of commission for no reason and with no warning! I have souls to watch over unlike your lazy holiness.” You snapped with your eyebrows furrowed.
Trick raised his hands in ressurender, “Hey, I was out of commission as well! It’s not a one-side thing.”
Your eyes squeezed even tighter as if you’re glaring at the jerk of a partner. “You started it!”
The two of you were Supreme Beings of your realm and entities as holy and cursed element. You can’t have one without the other. While it’s true that you were weak to holy powers, Trick was weak to cursed powers. You two were each other’s weakness no matter the situation
And the two of you aren’t as immortal as people would think. The two of you can be killed and healed by each other. Killing involves falling into a deep sleep when one side dies and healing involves transfering the other’s wounds onto themselves to heal more naturally as wounds can only be done by the opposite element
If one asks how to describe the two of you. You both were inseparable, can’t have one without the other. The concept of yin and yang comes to play
You are yin, in darkness there’s kindness. You are the unknown, you are negativity, you are darkness. You collect and control the souls marked for Hell without letting them go so long as they worth something to you. Even when you do it wasn’t for mercy and you’ll cage them into a torture unlike any other
Though, you were kind. You offer advice to those that deserve it and give opportunities for people to change. Why else would you let a soul be redeemed and let it leave Hell to go to Heaven? Why else would you allow Alastor to remind at the hotel even after your presence is back? Why else would you give Husk that little hope at a better future?
Trick was yang, in light there’s evil. They are the known, they are positivity, they are light. Trick judges and provides the souls marked for Heaven without letting them feel any negativity and only joy and happiness. Giving those worthy souls that lived life accordingly to enter a paradise fitting of Winners
Though, they were wicked and twisted. They enjoy a good trickery here and there, opting to let their high ranking angels deal with everything rather than rule as the ‘God’ they were named. They cared for none but their own interest and entertainment. If anything, Trick doesn’t see souls to be worth anything. To them, souls were nothing but actors on a stage to perform a good show for beings that was you and them to enjoy watching
“Fine, fine. I won’t do that again, unless you want a little rest.” Trick smirked as he looked your way. “So how’s your collection?”
“Hm… There will be some changes with what I have now. It’s a work in progress.” You told as you thought it over, “How’s your Emily?”
Trick’s smile widened, “Oh, miserable. But admirable. The sweet thing. She found out about the exterminations and sided with that Hell Princess during court! I told you she’s worth paying attention to.”
You hummed, “That’s what you said about Lucifer and he ended up falling to Hell. I wonder if Emily will be casted out as well.” You sensed the dark aura around your dear long-time friend spike and you turned your head over, “Don’t worry, I know not to accept her into Hell. She’s your prized one. Even if she’s casted out, I’ll push her back into Heaven.”
Trick huffed, clenching and unclenching his fists, “Good. Cause I will so remove those stupid higher angels if they did that to the only worthy angel in Heaven.” He looked over to you as well, “Don’t worry, it’s the same for your collections, I won’t let them into Heaven unless you want them do.”
Your smile widened, “Oh, I’ll never let them go~ But thanks for that safety net.”
You both picked your focus. While yours was on a hand-picked group, Trick focused on that one. Your little soul owning had one amazing benefit that none knew. It was the protection against angelic weapons
Back then when Alastor was hit by Adam’s attack in the chest, the slash should have eaten away at his body and soul. The angelic weapons or steel was created to aim directly at the soul of a being, that’s why it could kill both demons and angels. There was nothing angelic to it, merely a combine of yours and Trick’s power to create something that kills the soul
Now, your protection that to limit the effect of the wound till they can reach you for healing. But the best part was that your Overlords have no soul within their bodies so they wouldn’t be killed! Even if their head was chopped off by an angelic spear, it will just take time to grow back
You’ll never tell them that benefit nor do you plan to let them know about it. That’s why you made your appearance at the hotel. It was the sole reason of healing Alastor on your own terms. You thought of leaving soon later but you just couldn’t leave the poor deer when he was that desperate for your presence
The thing you can’t understand was why Trick only picks the one being to care for. Emily was what their supposed to be honestly. If someone met Trick and it was revealed that they were the God, no one would believe it. There was so much chaos and twisted nature in them that it was impossible that they were God
Yet you as the one by their time since the beginning of time knew the change was because of time. Time changed their view on the world and humans. So many time, they were disappointed that they just gave up and decided to laugh at all the misery. Maybe, you and Trick could switch places
But Trick will never agree because they never liked what you have set up in Hell already, plus there wouldn’t be an ‘Emily’ there. It was proposed once, and Trick shot it down without a thought. So to cure their boredom, there are meet-ups like this
Of course, the two of you end up going to Earth to see what the humans were up to while marking souls on whether they go to Heaven or Hell when they die
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Trick smirked and flapped his wings to fly over, and gestures to the humans minding their own business in the city, ♫ Look at how they crawl around, upon the ground, like little ants ♫
♫ Yes, but how they fascinate, ♫ You floated over with your smokey platform, slapping away his hand to touch a mortal, ♫ Confusing fate, With what is merely chance ♫
♫ Isn’t it a laugh? ♫ Trick nudged you.
You pushed him away, ♫ Isn’t it a shame? ♫
♫ Thinking there is someone in Heaven to blame ♫ Trick pointed at themselves. 
You rolled your eyes, ♫ Yes, but even while blaming fate for the lives that they lead. They hope for the lives that they need ♫
Trick snapped their fingers, both of them appearing in a cemetery with a heavy mood in the air. They carried a white umbrella while you carried a black one, staying at the back of the group that was grieving while a coffin was lowered, ♫ Living every day ‘til the day they die. Never getting answers ♫
♫ Yet still asking why ♫ You snapped your fingers and appeared on the roof of a building that oversaw a group of religious individuals praying, ♫ Going through the motions as if there will be a reward ♫
♫ While we stay, ♫ Trick made a bored and disgusted face at the scene, grabbing your hand so the two of you fall, ♫ Eternally bored! ♫
♫ They’re only human. They don’t see ♫ The two of you sang, Trick with their signature smirk and you with a bored look. ♫ Who they are is who they’ll always be. Only human, after all ♫
Trick brought you to a scene in front of a murder scene, ♫ So they push and they shove ♫
You showed Trick a scene with a romantic couple on a date, ♫ With this thing they call love ♫
♫ ‘Til they fall! ♫ You both watched as soldiers fall and their souls going to where they were picked to.
♫ Isn’t it a farce? ♫ Trick shrugged while the scene changed to that of a hospital room with a weak man on the bed.
♫ Isn’t it a waste? ♫ You eyed the crying humans around the man, listening as the monitor beep softer and longer with each pause. 
♫ Struggling to Face what can never be faced ♫ Trick leaned against the wall with crossed arms. 
♫ Yes, but maybe Death can release something more than we share ♫ You blinked at the man as he tried his best to hold the closest family member of his.
♫ I really don’t know ♫ Trick came over, their wing slapped at the man over the face and the lifeline fell flat, ♫ and don’t care ♫
You shook your head while the room bursted in tears and doctors and nurses rushed in, Trick was as indifferent as already with his grin on his face, ♫ They’re only Human. Standing still. Doomed to live pushing boulders uphill. Only Human, after all ♫
With a snap of Trick’s finger, the two of you arrived at a temple with a number of offerings, Trick picked up one and threw it to you then took one for themselves, ♫ So they give and we take ♫
You caught it with one hand and eyed it, then to the elderly women that was bowing to statue, ♫ Hoping someone will help break their fall ♫
Trick brought you to a gang meeting of sorts, the topic seemingly deciding on someone’s death, ♫ They will pray, curse, live, die. Never knowing their Truth is another Man’s Lie ♫
♫ Eat, sleep, love, hate ♫ You changed the scene to one where a group of friends were enjoying themselves in a forest, ♫ Like a Leaf blowing in the Wind ♫
Trick switched to a scene where students are forced to pick a career for the future, gesturing to all the troubled humans for you. ♫ Watch them all vacillate! ♫ 
The both of you sang, ♫ They’re only human. They can’t see ♫
♫ All the fun they could give you and me ♫ Trick laughed darkly while you smiled at his amusement.
♫ Only human, after all ♫ You both continued as you two picked out a wave of souls destined for Hell without another thought while Trick only picked a small group of them.
♫ So they give and we take ♫ You had your palms opened at the vast souls that would be doomed for Hell under your thoughtless choosing.
Trick nodded approvingly over your future collection, a twisted smile forming, ♫ ‘Til their silly hearts break ♫ 
♫ Looking down from above. I’m intrigued by their love ♫ An equally dark smile appeared on your face as you took Trick’s offered hand for a short sway. 
Trick suggested while taking you into their arms. ♫ So let’s play! ♫
You nodded along, ♫ Let’s play! ♫
Trick chuckled while dipping you down, “Hmm, let’s enjoy ourselves with these foolish souls.”
Since the beginning of time, there were two beings. A being that symbolizes light and a being that symbolizes dark. They were two sides of the same coin and co-exist together contary to what humans would theorize or write in their little works of art
“So I’ll assume you want me to put Heaven’s little business on hold? Not that they can do much with a redeemed soul in their ranks.” Trick smirked at you, their wings flapping at their little jab at their realm’s higher ranked angels. “So Hell gets some peace for the moment.”
Your smiled back, eyes peeking open to that revealed a cosmos from within, “Yes, that is much appreciated. There’s gonna be some interesting change in my collection.”
“Love it when your eyes does that.” Trick’s wings opened up to show the view of a night sky.
“Yours is not too bad. Quite the sight.”
“Only a sight for the two of us though. None is more worthy of it.”
“I’ll agree.”
Everything happening on these two beings’ whims and wants, nothing’s done with clear purpose, and anything’s fair game. As divine and just as the humans painted them to be, they are nothing like the holy one that cares for all’s interest from above. As cruel and evil as the humans painted you to be, you are anything but the cold and heartless tormentor of prisoners of Hell
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Note: New character!! I'll get to the request that were about this concept in a bit. First! The character design for Trick and you will be out in a moment~
Now then~ You guys feeling op yet?
Oh yeah!! I'm more interested with the song format too!! First time trying this, what you guys think???
Circe Y. 
My Works: MASTERLIST
Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)
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ratioaven · 1 day
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spoilers for 2.1 !!!!!!!
aventurine rant, please keep in my mind that these are my own thoughts and interpretations. im extremely sleep deprived lol so im sorry if i got anything wrong
something thats been on my mind since yesterday are these lines.
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from the start to me, it was very clear aventurine had self esteem/worth issues because of how he treats his own life, but the line that says “the other hand is below the table, clutching your chips for dear life” stuck out to me.
i always assumed aventurine was so incredibly confident in his luck but in reality he is afraid. he’s terrified that he’ll lose. it’s an act. he convinces himself, he fools himself, he forces himself to act like he’s confident he’ll win, when in reality even if he does win, he’s still clutching his chips under the table for dear life because of how terrified he is of losing.
that really messed with me to be honest. i feel tricked and what’s ironic is that he tricks his opponents into thinking he’s confident, and he also tricked ME the player but really, this made my heart break in two because i had absolutely no clue up until now.
so why does he act this way
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all throughout his life, aventurine has had his pride stripped away. just try to imagine being in his shoes. i myself do not think i could deal with the situations he was put in. i cannot stress this enough, aventurine has a mark on his neck that screams to him that he has once belonged to someone. he has had his pride stripped away from him countless times. but it’s ironic because aventurine is introduced as a very prideful and flashy man. you start to realize the front aventurine puts on is his own way of protecting himself. it’s how he’s able to live basically. i wanna go into more detail but i will later.
as it was said before, aventurine is an uptight person who worries. he is extremely afraid of losing and he has a massive inferiority complex. aventurine may seem like a go lucky person on the outside, but in actuality he is not. he is not happy. he has no self worth, he believes he has nothing to live for, and he has no problem with throwing his life away. aventurine believes the only good thing he brings to the table is his luck.
but this brings me to my next point.
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aventurine may not realize it, but he is so much more than his luck. he has so many good qualities and he doesn’t seem to realize it. even if some of it may be an act, he’s still able to pull it off. he’s still an intelligent business man who is both charming and cunning EVEN if it may be an act, those are still amazing qualities to have in his line of work.
but more importantly, aventurine chose to live. despite witnessing his family die, being a slave, and tortured, he chose to live. he chooses to. i cannot stress this enough. this man has gone through hell and back. he truly has had an incredibly difficult life to the point where my heart hurts so so badly for him. he made the decision to stay alive.
that says more than enough about his character.
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and last but not least, aventurine wants one thing, and that is to be with his family. he’s witnessed horrible things in his life that no one should ever go through. he lost everyone close to him, he lost his people. he has nothing to live for and he values his life so little to the point where he has no problem with dying. the only real thing that he wants is just to see his family.
and he will one day, but in the meantime, i genuinely hope this man can find a reason to live, and ratio already gave him one just by that note. i just truly wish aventurine happiness while he lives the rest of his life.
i guess this is a topic that really hits me hard because i know all too well that choosing to live life isn’t easy sometimes and i just love aventurine.
let’s all appreciate how truly amazing his character is.
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shanastoryteller · 2 days
Note
ROSES ARE RED, AND THIS IS BEDONKS
CAN I PRETTY PLEASE HAVE SOME PERCY AND TONKS 🌹💖
“What’s going on with Percy?”
Kingsley looks ups from his paperwork to find Amelia looming over him. Not exactly a common occurrence, since he’s well over a foot taller than her. “Brooks?”
“Merlin, don’t speak to me about Percy Brooks,” she says, pulling a face. She’s the one who brought him up! “Weasley.”
He blinks several times, rolling through Arthur’s children until he lands on the appropriate redhead. A bit uptight, considering his parentage, but Molly can fret with the best of them up until she gets fed up and settles matters with her wand. “I could get Tonks in here, if you want.”
“Do they know each other?” she asks in interest. “They were in different houses, and a couple years apart.”
How does she know that? He knew that, but it was against his will. “Tonks is dating him. Or trying? I’m not totally clear on the specifics despite her best efforts.”
He hadn’t anticipated how much work it would take for him to dodge a trainee determined to complain to him about her love life. It speaks well of her future in the field, at least. Or poorly of his own abilities, but he’s fairly confident in those, so he’s comfortable giving her the credit here.
“Great, a harassment case waiting to happen for our department,” she says dryly.
He rolls his eyes. “The only person he’s complaining about it to is Tonks. Who takes it as encouragement. Which, considering the cause and effect, it very well might be.”
“That’s what I’m talking about,” Amelia says. “What’s what this kid?”
Kingsley is lost again. “Can you get a little more specific?”
“Crouch’s department has become efficient, and dare I saw, effective over the last couple months. It’s certainly got nothing to do to with Crouch, since he’s been useless for nearly a decade. The only thing that’s changed is Percy. Who attends every meeting, claiming Crouch sent him to take notes, and then memos and policy get signed and sent out of Crouch’s office when I know for a fact Crouch is too busy harassing me to do his damn job.”
He tries to avoid the obvious answer because it’s the most ridiculous. “You think it’s him?”
“Who else?” she returns.
Well. “Do you… want me to arrest him?”
“What good would that do?” she demands. “The department is operating smoothly for once. I want to know what his deal is. Is he loyal to Crouch? Plotting against us? Just really passionate about bottom thickness?”
Not according to Tonks.
Uhg.
If he was alone, he’d bang his head on his desk until he’s unable to remember what Tonks’s voice sounded like and then maybe he’d know peace.
“Everyone’s got to start somewhere,” he says. “You’re noticing. Maybe that’s what he’s after.”
“I’m noticing because I notice everything. He’s taking significant steps to ensure people don’t notice. How’s he supposed to get promoted that way? Or transferred?” She shakes her head. “He’s doing it for a reason. Do me a favor and find out.”
Why can’t she ask him something simple, like hiding a body or burying evidence?
Now he has to spend his lunch break listening to Tonks talk about her not-boyfriend.
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shiroforest · 1 day
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In Shigaraki's psyche, Izuku saw a memory that's neither his nor Shigaraki's, and that memory is actually AFO's.
It's from 1st person point of view, in there, AFO seems to be acquainted with Shigaraki's Father, and AFO apparently worked in construction in Koga city (idk what 甲賀建設 Exactly means, but 建設 means construction or establishment, and 甲賀 is a city in Ibaraki Prefecture, and it's pretty close to Shizuoka Prefecture, where Izuku&his mom live)
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Then AFO invited Shigaraki's Father over a drink, and asked about Shigaraki's quirk, to which his father said it still hasn't appeared/identified yet
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You know what this means???
AFO must've LIVED A NORMAL LIVE sometimes to get acquainted with Shigaraki's Father while also monitor him!! Due to his connection with Nana.
And AFO asking about Shigaraki's quirk can either means he's monitoring if "Decay" has developed OR if Shigaraki can be GIVEN "Decay" later on.
This might also indicate that AFO also acquainted with Shimura household as a normal person, and if this shadowed figure with suits whom looked like AFO is indeed AFO, then it must've been like a family friend escorting the son back home
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Anyway, AFO finally came out of Shigaraki's suppression, now we can see some Izuku and AFO interaction and maybe a confirmation about the validity of DFO theory!!!!
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*it's also suspicious Izuku still DIDN'T GET TO SEE AFO's full face even from AFO's memory
**out of context, but AFO in his memory asked if Shigaraki's father had a lower back pain, and offered to introduce him to a good doctor, and i can't help but think "lol, it's just gonna be dr. Garaki isn't it? And he probably gonna order Garaki to do something to the only son of Nana" and the fact that AFO spoke to Shigaraki's Father SO POLITELY/using keigo (敬語) is weirdly nice, I'd like to see him speaks normally FULL FACE
***the irony of the villain who wrecked havoc in the country, might also once worked in construction of all places. Though it can be reasoned with "in order to destroy thoroughly, one must know how to built"
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