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carakook · 3 months

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Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

"Please don't slam the door in my face. Please just let me talk to you for a bit, I promise I'll behave."

→ Chapters list ←

⚘2. Wild Flower

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

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⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: Y/N attempts to cope with the end of the affair and stay firm in her decision to go no-contact with Jungkook. Jungkook, however, is a fucking mess, and it has barely been a few days. He is going insane. He knows this is for the best... but he also knows they both deserve closure. Y/N especially... she will never fully bloom without it.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 2K+

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex (no smut, but it is talked about), mentions of pregnancy, mentions of toxic masculinity, mentions of arguing, let me know if I miss anything!

⚘Disclaimer: This story in no way reflects the characters of those who are mentioned. It is pure fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Please don’t take it seriously. Nothing is real in this story.

⚘A/N: Chapter two! This one is a bit short, but the next chapter will be much longer, this chapter is meant to give some context to their past and how things ended up this way. I truly hope you like it, and chapter three will be out shortly.

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↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Over - Lucky Daye (y’all this one is important, fits the vibe so well)

♪I bet on Losing Dogs - Mitski

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

That weekend, you’re in shambles.

Hundreds of missed texts and calls. All from him. All tempting you to run back to him like you always do. But you haven't answered. You can't, and you won't.

His texts range from saying things like,

"I'm sorry. Can we please just talk?"

"Now you're leaving me on read? What the fuck?"

"I'm going crazy. Please talk to me."

"I want to hate you right now. Fuck."

"I do fucking hate you. I regret you."

"That was a lie, I could never hate you, I love you, so fucking much. I don't regret anything with you."

"You haven't blocked me and I can see you reading my messages so I'm not gonna stop until you answer me."

"Fuck wait, don't block me, please don't."

"Please Y/N."

It stopped there. The last plea and you left it unanswered. Because with each message he sent, even though you didn't text him back, you sent a tiny piece of your heart his way. He just doesn't know it.

If you weren't hurt, you'd find this entire thing so fucking amusing because, clearly, the man is losing it. He's acting like a desperate teenager who is overly attached to his girlfriend. Like a lost puppy. A man-child who's too persistent for his own good. So cute.

Except for the fact that you're not his girlfriend. You're his mistress, and oh fuck, that label leaves such a dirty and disgusting taste in your mouth.

He would never address you as such. As a matter of fact, as you're laying on your couch drowning in your own self-pity and a bottle of cheap wine, he remains in his second apartment, thinking precisely the opposite.

Thinking about the fact that you were never a mistress. You were so much more. As fucked up as it sounds, you were more than his wife is to him currently. He's never felt so loved, but also never loved someone so damn hard. You own his soul, and he's panicking at the thought that he'll never get it back. You've run away with it and refuse to let him in enough to steal it back.

But the thing is, he doesn't want it. He wants you to have it. If he could, he'd wrap it up in the most expensive wrapping paper, decorate it with stickers and bows, and hand it to you. But you stole it; you didn't give him the chance.

You didn't mean to. Fuck, you didn't want it. You don't even realize how much he loves you. You refuse to realize it because it'll only make it so much more painful. It's easier to believe that he loves his wife, not you. That he'll stay with his wife, not you. That he'll be happier with her, not you. It's so much easier because, despite the bitter pain in your heart, your one wish out of all of this is his happiness and well-being.

You know nothing about his marriage. Jungkook realizes this now. He never intentionally kept his marriage from you, but it was so easy to just forget about it when he was with you.

Because he wants to forget.

He once loved his wife and thought for sure he would never love anything or anyone more than her. They were young and in love, married each other while they were fresh out of college like dumbasses. He was a lovesick boy with her. He thought she was the prettiest, most precious thing ever to exist.

Until things changed.

After college, she changed. She has always been more mature, ever since they first met. But she created this power dynamic between her and Jungkook; she saw herself as more than him. She started looking down on him because of his choice of career... because of his choices in life in general.

One thing about Jungkook is he listens to no one. He's a selfish man in some ways and does not give a shit about anyone's opinion. But she was his wife. So it created some tension when she expressed she didn't want him to be some indie photographer; she wanted him to do something better with himself. She wanted him to try and make it big, like some sort of Hollywood hotshot working for celebrities, because he damn sure has the talent.

But he wanted something much more simple. He just wanted to take pictures. Of anything, everything, for anyone. He told her he wouldn't do that. He wouldn't waste his years of college to do something he didn't want to do. He didn’t drown himself in student debt to end up unhappy. Regardless of the money, he just wanted to capture the beauty in other people.

He has his own little business, and it does well. So well that his wife could stop working if she wanted to and continue living her lavish lifestyle. He's one of the most loved photographers in Seoul, but that's all. People enjoy the fact that he's humble and keeps things simple while providing them with photography skills that you can't get anywhere else.

His wife doesn't like this.

She wants more. Always wants more.

It was the first time he denied her wishes.

And it was the first time he realized that maybe this woman was not what he had thought she was all the years he had been with her.

The dynamic switched quickly. He went from lovesick puppy to stray dog, constantly feeling like he didn't belong with her, like he didn't have a place with her anymore. But he married her, dedicated several years of his life to her, and didn't wanna leave her. Marriage is hard sometimes… surely they could overcome it.

That’s what he thought, anyway. But as time went on, it became clear that this wasn’t just a rough patch. God, he fucking wishes so badly that it was just a rough patch.

The one thing that made him start thinking impulsively was the bomb she dropped on him shortly before he met you.

"No, Jungkook, I don't want kids. Not now, not ever, so drop it."

"Woah- what? We've talked about this before baby... I don't understand. What changed your mind?"

"You. I'm content with what we have, and I don't want to focus on some mini-Jungkook running around and causing chaos in my future. We're fine as we are."

That was the day that he realized, holy fuck, I don't love this woman anymore. This isn’t just some rough patch. She is not the woman he fell in love with years ago… maybe she never was.

Because he had the same thought but the polar opposite, her words stung him in a way he'd never felt. He has always imagined a mini-her running around, and it made him swoon. It made him feel so many warm fuzzies inside. But she clearly didn't feel the same. And the fact that she would view a child made by them both as a nuisance just because it was his? That broke his heart.

Kids have always been such a huge deal to him. He loves them. He is a huge kid himself. He's always wanted to be a dad one day and always imagined it would be with his wife. He used to fantasize in college about it, about his little babies running around while he made his little family breakfast; she knew it, too. She knew he wanted kids, and she always fed into these fantasies, adding onto them and making them seem real and plausible.

But it never was real. It was all an illusion to keep him under her leash.

She never wanted kids. She just wanted to keep him.

And he knows that now. It makes him sick.

After that conversation, he quickly put up barriers with her. Although he couldn't bring himself to divorce her, he distanced himself. And she didn't even notice, which is what gave him the confidence to pursue you.

He just wanted to feel something. He couldn't even touch his wife anymore. Couldn't even get hard by her. And she humiliated him for it. She made him feel like he was broken and gross. Dirty. It's similar to your feeling but in a completely different context.

And she wasn't willing to help, either. He had tried to confide in her, be honest, communicate. He tried to work it out, wanted to find ways to make it work, wanted to be able to touch her again. He offered couples counseling and maybe a doctors visit to make sure his junk wasn’t broken like she swore it was. But the moment she saw he wasn't hard for her like he always had been? She, too, put up her walls. She distanced herself and never mentioned sex again. Hardly even looked at him in such a way.

He wouldn't doubt if she was cheating, too. In fact, he knows in his gut that she started cheating on him way before he did on her. He doesn't have the balls to confront her either, considering he feels he's the reason for her straying away. He can't give her what she needs. He feels like he's not good enough for her. For anyone. Not even for you.

It's a mess.

So that night he saw you at the club, dancing with your friends, that sweet smile on your face that could end a war, he wanted you. Oh, he wanted you so bad.

At first, it was just lust. Seeing the way that you moved, so sensual and sinful, but mixed with that innocent smile? It was a deadly combination that left his dick twitching.

Never once did he think it would be a constant. He was sure it'd be one time, which is why he didn't disclose his marriage to you at first.

It was thrilling for him. He knew it was wrong; he felt like a child who was sneaking out and doing shit behind his parent's back, stealing cookies from the cookie jar. But he hadn't felt a thrill in months, hadn't been touched in months, hadn't even been looked at in months.

So when you noticed him staring, and your cheeks turned faintly red under the club lights? And you tried to look away? But then he saw you whispering to your friends and panicking, whisper-yelling, "He's so hot- he's looking at me- oh god, I'm gonna puke, look at him!"

Yeah. That was what he needed. He needed someone to stroke his fragile little ego that his wife tore to fucking shreds. And your over dramatic, yet sweet reaction? It made him so fucking cocky.

One time. Just once. Just a little taste to keep me sane. That's what he told himself.

But when he finally got that taste of you? When he saw the way you looked at him while he was above you? The way you whined when he kissed you? The way you acted like you'd never been touched before? And then when he felt you? Felt how tight you were, felt how much you wanted him, how you seemed like you had not been with many men? It did it for him. It started an addiction.

You made him feel wanted in a way his wife didn't. In a way that she never did.

You healed a part of him while also causing him to grow. To flourish. To become himself again.

He doesn't even care if it's sinful circumstances. He's just thankful for you. So fucking thankful. When he dies and gets sent to hell, he will personally thank satan himself for giving him the ability to sin with you.

Maybe in hell, he can even have you.

He knows that even with all of that, it doesn’t make what you’re both doing right. No matter what excuses his mind conjures up, none of it is ok. Cheating is never ok. He should’ve never pursued you. He should’ve never kept it going. He should’ve never even been in that fucking club that night. Or, he should have fessed up. Should have told his wife, left her, fuck, he should’ve done something different.

He should’ve saved you both. But he didn’t. Because he’s selfish. And he’s so fucking scared.

And even then, he could never regret you. Never.

This is why, as he sits in the bedroom of his second apartment, staring directly at the perfume bottle that fell out of your purse and onto his floor as you ran away, he made a decision.

One that he wasn't happy with.

He's a coward. He feels as if he can't leave his wife. There are so many reasons as to why, but the main one is that he's in so deep with her. Has a whole life with her. She's part of him. So he can't leave her. He wants her to leave him. And he secretly hopes that one day, she will. It’s selfish, wrong, but that’s how he feels.

However, he can't let you leave without making sure you know how much he loves you.

It's fucked up. He knows it is. He knows that when you love someone, you'll do anything to be with them. But he's a coward.

He still loves you, though. Loves you more than he even understands. Right person, wrong time. And it’s so fucking painful.

So he gets his shit together. He takes a shower, shaves, makes himself look less of a mess, and starts making his way to your apartment without announcing himself.

He knows if he tells you, you'll refuse to let him in. He knows you're trying to move on. And he wants to help. But he can't let you go until you understand the extent of his feelings.

And maybe, just maybe, has one last taste.

This is something you don't expect him to do at all. He's never pushed himself on you. He's never been the type to show up without an invite, or at least a little heads up first.

Which is why when you hear a knock on the door, you don't think anything of it. You ordered pizza. The best heartbreak food. So you grab your wallet and pull out a some cash, swiftly opening the door and saying with a pout and sniffle,

"Keep the chan-"

That's not the pizza guy. Nope.

That's him. And fuck, you feel yourself melting. Your heart turns to molten hot lava and burns you from the inside out.

He smiles sheepishly, and he holds out a single flower. He didn't buy it. It's a tiny little purple wildflower that looks a bit wilted, much like yourself. Pitiful. And clearly, he picked it on the side of the road on his way here.

This is the kind of shit that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, the guilt is worth it.

"Please don't slam the door in my face. Please just let me talk to you for a bit, I promise I'll behave."

"Leave."

You swiftly say as you begin to do exactly what he asked you not to. You honestly weren't going to do it; you were already thinking that if he asked you to stay, you would. But then he said that, and it brought you back to reality.

But he doesn't let you.

His arm darts out, holding the door from shutting entirely. He pushes it open, steps in quickly, closes it behind him, and looks at you with an intense desperation you've never seen before. Looks like a lost fucking puppy, or maybe a puppy who’s been put outside by their owner.

A lost puppy for you… a stray dog for his wife.

And then he gets on his fucking knees and begs.

Looking up at you, with the tiny purple wildflower, still in his hand, it drops down to his side in defeat. He's gripping it so tightly that it's losing its life quickly. The same exact way he’s clinging to the connection you share as if he’ll die without it. But much like the little wildflower, he’s sucking the life out of you.

His other hand grabs yours and squeezes. He says with a weak voice,

"Please. Let me do this. We need closure, and the last time we saw each other was not it. I'm fucking begging you to let me in just for tonight. And then I'll let you go."

As he holds your hand, you can't look at him. Instead, you look at the tiny flower, the one that he's crushing in his palm. He's holding onto it for dear life without even knowing. Similar to you, once again. You're that flower.

You're wilted, bruised, bent, crushed. All because he's clinging onto you, sucking the life out of you, and you've let him. And if he asks, you're going to continue to let him.

But then the flower falls out of his hand. He lets it go.

Oh, what a fucked up way for god to tell you that he isn't going to stay. He isn't going to ask you to stay; he's really going to let you go tonight.

So, as you stare at the flower, which is now on the floor, you murmur, "Alright."

You don't want to. But you're giving him the chance to let you go. Even though you wished he wouldn't.

He stays on his knees, as if he isn’t sure what to do now. As if he wasn’t sure he’d get this far… and honestly, that’s exactly it. He thought for sure you would kick him out and curse him for trying.

Or maybe, he thought you’d fight, too. And the fact that you aren’t fighting… it shouldn’t hurt him as much as it does. He’s the one who has put you in a position of constant guilt. But oh, how nice it would be if you fought for him.

“Jungkook, Jesus, get off of your damn knees. You look ridiculous.”

He blinks slowly. Yeah, ok, fair. His big ass on his knees begging like that. But god, he’d do it over and over again just for a little more time with you.

He’d let you spit on him and call him degrading names if it meant more time with you. And he’d even smile about it.

You both end up laughing at his dramatics a moment later, and it’s music to his ears… knowing that he can still make you smile even though he’s the reason you’re dying inside right now.

Closure. It’s what you both need. Just one more night to get everything unsaid out into the open… then you’ll both move on.

… right?

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

#bts #jeon jungkook #18+ only #bts fanfction #bts imagines #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts x you #bts x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n

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cosmicdream222 · 3 months

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An interview with a shifter who has been “time leaping” since 2001

I found this website of an interview with a Japanese shifter known as Mr. Kanda. He figured out how to shift back in time when he was in middle school - he calls it “time leaping”.

The original website is in Japanese and can be found here.

Mr. Kanda was born in 1986, and around 2001 failed his high school entrance exam. Due to his intense regret, he shifted back in time to repeat middle school. He then made multiple time leaps repeating certain years of his life, studying different subjects in high school and pursuing different careers. At the time of the interview, he says he has lived about 70-80 years of life.

I translated some of the most interesting parts below.

Note: a Tulpa is a phenomenon that’s like an imaginary friend that actually becomes a sentient separate consciousness from you. It’s an entirely different rabbit hole, so you can just think of it as a dream character to understand his story.

My notes are written in [brackets].

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・。.。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Mr Kanda’s First Time Leap Story

Kanda: When I was meditating on my futon, I started to have a lucid dream.

At that time, Tulpa talked to me and said, "If you raise your clarity to the maximum in your dream, wouldn't it be possible to time leap, or even move around the world?" I tried it, but no matter how much I increased the clarity, it still felt like a dream.

So Tulpa said, "If you get absorbed in something you like, you won't be able to hear the voices around you, and your focus will gain momentum. You will eventually forget that you’re dreaming," so as a result of playing in the dreamworld, I spent about a week in a dream without knowing it.

At that time, I suddenly realized, "This is a dream", but I had already completely forgotten the feeling of the original world, and the dream world had become my new reality.

After thinking about why I didn't come back even though I realized it was a dream, the answer I came up with was, “It's because I completely lost my sense of the original world.”

To explain it another way, wouldn’t it be disorienting if I told you that the person you are right now is in a lucid dream of another person? That’s what it was like for me. My dream had actually become my reality, and I forgot about my old reality.

Q: What was the reason for your first time-leap?

Kanda: I think because something bad happened and I wanted to pretend it never happened.

The first time for me was probably a coincidence/accident. In fact, when I tried to do it again, I couldn't, so I started practicing with time leaps through lucid dreaming and meditation, and I got better at stabilizing and controlling them.

When people can’t do something, they hate it, but when they can do it, they love it. So once you succeed, even just once, your faith increases, and you know you can do it again!

Mr. Kanda’s Lucid Dreaming Method

Mr. Kanda recommends lucid dreams the most as a time-leap method. This is how he does it:

Before you go to sleep, first visualize in your head where you want to go. Then lie on your back and meditate. When you fall asleep, the images you were thinking about will run through your dreams. If you shift your consciousness to yourself in the dream, you will be able to act without being aware of what you are currently dreaming about.

In normal lucid dreaming, you become aware that you are dreaming right now [known as DILD or dream-induced lucid dream]. When trying to time-leap, the important thing is how much you can act in the dream in a way that is consistent with reality. He says it is important to “improve your clarity” to the point where it doesn’t feel like a dream anymore.

Mr. Kanda seems to be able to suddenly enter into a lucid dream from the moment he begins to sleep, [WILD - wake induced lucid dreaming] and he also teaches us how to do so:

First, relax.

In Kanda's case, he darkens his room 70 minutes before going to bed and drinks hot herbal tea. Adjust the temperature in the room to a comfortable level, then listen to some calming music. It's better to feel a little tired.

Once you get into bed, visualize and replay strong happy and positive memories in your mind. When you feel happy, close your eyes and calm down all at once and enter a meditative state.

Mr. Kanda recommends mindfulness meditation. Don't think about anything, just focus on the sound of your heart and breathing. When you successfully fall asleep from meditation, you are conscious but your body is asleep, and lucid dreaming begins.

Kanda meditates for 20 minutes every morning, not just when he wants to lucid dream. According to him, “conditioned reflexes” [creating habits] are important. By repeatedly performing a certain action, one eventually becomes able to enter that state without even trying.

Q: If the ‘you’ from another world were to time-leap to this world, what would happen to ‘you’ now?

Kanda: There seems to be a misunderstanding: there is only one consciousness.

Reality changes depending on where we place our consciousness in a world of infinite possibilities.

I do have consciousness in my other reality, but from the perspective of me in the current reality, it seems like I don't have consciousness.

In other words, my life in this other reality is as if it were controlled by a computer.

Of course, the same can be said for us. From the perspective of another reality’s consciousness, we too live our lives as if controlled by a computer.

In the end, even if consciousness from another reality shifts, the consciousness we see is always here. So no matter what they do, it has no effect on us.

#reality shifting #shiftblr #lucid dreaming #shifters

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jake-g-lockley · 2 years

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Did You Mean It? (Poe Dameron x reader)

Masterlist | Playlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3 k

A/N: Short lil thing I wrote spontaneously out of a lil thought, Poe my beloved <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Your eyes are trained intensely onto the monitor before you, your hands pressing down on the earmuffs of your coms. His face was illuminated by a big blast as a victorious smile bloomed. A joyous laugh rang through your ears, turning your stomach into an unstable rollercoaster.

“YOU SAW THAT Y/N?!” he yelled. “YOU OWE ME DRINKS!”

Commander Poe Dameron never failed to make your heart skip its way straight to oblivion. From the first second you met him, his aura drew you to him and his character made you stay. Every single day with him was like a new adventure and you wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Your admiration for him turned into love before you could stop yourself from falling into the abyss that was your feelings. You repressed everything, worried that if you had let anything slip out it would ruin you. He is your commander, your squadron leader, your best friend. You are his flight lieutenant, a pilot to him, a soldier of the rebellion.

The pain of wanting to maintain everything to be strictly professional and platonic was absolutely unbearable. People would shoot you with knowing looks when Poe would casually wrap his arm around your shoulder, bring you a plate of food or even joke with you. You reciprocated everything, casually of course, until people stopped batting their eyes at the both of you.

Internally, you couldn’t get enough of him. His laughter was your drug, his smile your light, his warm embrace your oxygen. You needed him to thrive, to stay alive. You tried going on dates with random people you knew, you tried meditating the feelings away and you even tried avoiding him but in the end, you would always still want to run your hands in his stupid crown of curls.

You switch to a private channel and roll your eyes at the pretty commander. “Maker, I’m never gonna hear the end of this aren’t I?”

“This is why you never make bets with the best, my girl.” he retorted cheekily.

My girl.

Ignoring the blatant thudding in your chest from his casual cuteness, you replied, “Ugh, could the next bet be something that I’m good at for a change? Let’s bet on the fact that you’ll clean your room if you lose, Commander Stinky.”

The Mess of Poe Dameron’s Quarters was a tale known amongst many at base. It all started when BB-8 blew a fuse and Poe had insisted he would fix him all on his own. It only took three explosions and two fires for him to finally let you come over and fix the poor droid.

“Deal. Mainly because we all know I’m good at everything. Get your cleaning supplies ready Y/N, you’ll need to clean my X-Wing too!”

“HEY! THE X-WING WASN’T PART OF THE DEAL!” you yell into the coms.

“Fine. Just the room. Then maybe you’ll start visiting me there more often?” Poe wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at the camera.

Your face burned at the thought but you brushed it off as quickly as the speed that the statement left Poe’s mouth.

“Maturity is unfortunately not your strongest suit, Commander.” you said grimly.

“So I have been told. Landing in a bit, see you then for the debrief?” he winked, flashing you his beautiful smile.

“Copy that, see you at base. Love you.” you say hazily, smiling at him.

You froze as your mind blanked out and your dopey smile dropped. Your brain replayed what you said over and over again like a broken record and you sank far into your seat.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Your brain literally couldn’t believe how badly your tongue betrayed you. Your hands started to shake and you felt cold sweat beading on your forehead. Your breath started coming and going in short puffs as you tried to gather your bearings.

Scrambling back up, you pull the mic close to your face.

“Commander?” you say shakily.

No answer.

“P-poe?” you whisper.

Poe had already shut his coms off and you heard cheers erupting as you presumed his arrival at base.

He might not have heard you right?

You straightened your uniform and slowly made your way to the main meeting room where Poe Dameron marched in from the other side, in all his piloting glory. You froze again in shock as you caught the emotionless expression he wore. You averted your eyes from him as he took his place beside you.

You could only hear the blood roaring thunderously in your ears as Poe headed the debrief. You wanted nothing more than to run to your room and hide under your covers. Once you saw people moving around, you realized that everyone has been dismissed. You were going to attempt to make a beeline for the exit once everyone was gone but a strong hand powerfully gripped your wrist and pulled you back.

You found yourself crashing right back into Poe. His free hand steadied you and adjusted you so that you were standing in the middle of his two feet.

“Didn’t say I was done with you.” he whispered. “What did you say right before I cut off coms, Y/N?”

You were shaking, your mind raced to the worst of conclusions and you realized that today might be the day you lose your friendship with Poe Dameron.

The hand at your snaked up your arm and cupped your jaw, tipping your face so that you were facing him. His eyes softened as he gazed into yours, your heart melting at the sight of the lovely brown orbs.

“What did you say?” He repeated, a little louder this time and your heart skipped a beat.

“Commander, it was a slip of the tongue, just an accident.” you pleaded, trying not to let your heavy breathing get the best of you.

“Did you mean it?”

“What?”

“I said, did you mean what you said over coms?”

Fuck it.

Yet again, your tongue betrayed your brain as fast as lightning, terrorizing your mind.

“Yea.” you whisper.

“Oh Maker…” Poe sighed.

He leaned into you and pressed his forehead to yours, your eyes fluttering close as you felt yourself slowly going into cardiac arrest.

“Say it again. Say what you said over coms again. Please?” He whispered.

“I love you.” you whisper back, in a trance.

“Again.” Poe said, let out a shaky breath.

“I love you.” you swayed with him as he caressed your cheek.

“One last time. Please.” he was the one pleading now, his voice desperate as he pulled away to look at you.

“I love you. I love you. I love-”

Poe cuts you off with a breathtaking kiss. If he wasn’t holding on to you, you would be best friends with the floor. You melt into his touch, binding yourself with him as your thoughts struggle to comprehend what was happening. He kissed you like you were water and he was a man lost on Tatooine.

“I. Love. You. Too.” he breathed out the second his lips left yours.

Your face erupted into a symphony of emotions and you wrapped your arms around Poe’s neck, hugging him close.

“I could sit here and give you a billion reasons why I do but I’d bore you to death. What do you think happened to poor BB?” Poe sheepishly said into your shoulder.

“WAIT! BB fused that chip because you were talking about ME?” you gasped, appalled.

“Yea.”

“You’re a menace, Dameron.”

“I’m your menace.” He said pulling back to look at you again.

Nothing mattered then. Your Poe was now yours and you had everything you wanted. Except-

“This isn’t a coup for me to clean your room right?” you checked.

“Huh, should've thought of that.” Poe says thoughtfully, earning himself a punch. “Okay! You win this round, I’ll get the cleaning supplies.”

“That’s more like it, Dameron.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Tagging: @ahookedheroespureheart @mintpurplemnm @delightful-kiwi @p0edameronswife @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @cherryesskisses @einno-arko

Reblogs are appreciated <3 love you all so so much *muah*

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aylasology · 2 months

Text

I Can't Get Enough Of You, Baby

‧₊˚🖇️ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚🎧⊹⋆｡𖦹 °

✭•*⁀➷ a rockstar!hazel au slightly inspired by the book and show 'Daisy Jones and The Six' ·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

It's 1984, chasing after success and rockstardom makes you stumble upon a band. One song leads to an album. One fight leads to a kiss. One kiss leads to a heated, high-staked romance - burning your very being.

And after all is said and done, 20 years later you and the remaining members of the band live to retrace your steps that lead to the abrupt and infamous split. The love, the music, and the fear of it all - finally on tape.

warnings : the characters are unreliable sometimes ! Their answers are typed in bold and the narrative is in normal text. The series switches between their answers and the narrative all through out the chapters. Familiar faces are in the story too! And a few chapters soloing them before the start of the actual plot. Constant use of Y/N. The fic also talks about groupie culture, something I definitely do NOT want to glorify at all. Groupie culture is told as it is, and it's effects on the groupies as well is something I will NOT romanticize. There will be smut !

music of 'I Can't Get Enough of You, Baby'

‧₊˚🖇️ ✮⋆˙ ₊˚🎧⊹⋆｡𖦹 °

Before '84

Kids in America (The rise of 'Ecstacy')

The Summer of '84

Juke Box Hero ('Ecstacy' and reader meet')

Rhiannon ( The song that rose to fame )

- other chapters to be revealed -

Tags : @hazenllas @fictionalgap @leamunson

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel bottoms #bottoms movie #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan smut

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bas-writes · 11 months

Text

Ocean Tides

Character: Gojo Satoru Reader: afab (ambigious body descriptions, neutral words used regarding genitalia with an exception for word "clit") CW: explicit n.sfw content, PWP, one shot, established relationship, vaginal fingering, oral sex (Reader receiving), lots of teasing, edging, orgasm control, pet names ("thing", "doll") Word Count: ~3.8k Synopsis: Your box with sex toys disappears in mysterious circumstances right as you need it. The main suspect is, of course, lingering around, ready to give you a helping hand. A/N: Well, now it's the official virginity breaking for Jujutsu Kaisen :3 Requested some time ago by my bf and personal Gojo maniac @mysticaltigersorceress whom I happily murder now with horny. Of course, y'all are welcomed to join. I'd lie, if I said all those descriptions of hands didn't have any erm effect on me. The title is loosely inspired by the song I associate with Gojo and Gojo only - Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish. Itself, it has nothing to do with "plot", just sharing 'cause I think it's cool.

It’s the third drawer—and still nothing.

At this point you don’t have much hope. You’ve checked all possible hides, plus a few less possible extra, and your box with sex toys is still nowhere to be found. All other places either wouldn’t fit it or are too much on display for you to consider them; for the peace of mind, you even ducked under the bed—just to find a long lost sock and a few overlooked candy wrappers.

And here you’ve been waiting for this little moment of solitude all day long…

Frustrated, you throw yourself on the bed—and groan as the phone, stuffed in the back pocket of your jeans, pokes you. You snap it out, finger against the screen activates it, and your boyfriend’s infuriatingly stupid smirk flashes right in front of your face from the lock screen.

As if the last cog just clicked in and finally put the machine back on the right track. Of course, the most obvious answer and solution have been right under your nose all time long!

Satoru, have you seen my toy box?

He’s not one to catch himself into a cleaning spree—and especially not at your place—but he’s always the center of chaos. If you left the box on display when he was around, it was almost certain he would mess with it. Though, in this case you would be immediately attacked—he wouldn’t let such a discovery come to waste. Well, there’s also a chance he helped himself and stuck his nosy fingers where a normal person would never. After all, such things as privacy or social boundaries don’t exist in his dictionary.

Your phone vibrates before you can put it away.

naaah

Such a fast answer would be suspicious even if Gojo wouldn’t be one walking definition of dubious truth himself.

Are you absolutely sure?

what you dont trust me y/n (ノД`)・゜・。so mean

Despite frustration you can’t help but smile at the memory of his perfectly played kicked puppy face. He’s a bastard and a reckless clown—but an adorable one, you have to admit it. There’s a good reason for you to have such a weakness for him despite all the shit he constantly pulls on you.

Shaking your head and sighing, you start typing your answer—just to be interrupted halfway.

need help looking?

You throw the phone away and groan into your hands, pressed tight to your face.

“You’re right behind the door, right? You ass.” The walls of your apartment aren’t thick, he can easily hear you all the way from the bedroom. “It’s open.”

Gojo slides in almost soundlessly, announced only by the click of lock as he closes the door behind himself. Soon, he’s marching into your bedroom, not even bothering to take shoes and jacket off. Mischievous gleam of bright blue eyes blinks at you over sunglasses; he leans against the doorframe, casual, unbothered, so obviously lying it hurts to watch.

“So. Where is it.”

“Where is what?” He springs straight, puts hands behind his back and wobbles back and forth, like a student asked an uncomfortable question. “I don’t know anything about boxes.”

“Don’t play coy, I know you did something with it. Did you take it?”

“Nope!” You want to tear his throat open just for the way he prolongs the vowels as he speaks. “Why would I take your toys? I don’t even know what you are talking about.”

“You always know everything you shouldn’t know.”

“Touché.” He clicks tongue and leans forward, frozen mid-step, like a cat ready to pounce at its prey. His eyes meet yours directly for a split moment again, and it’s enough for the build-up tension in you to pick its head up and roar. How are you supposed to play the tough cop in this routine banter, if he only adds to the fire that’s been itching you all day long?

You clear your throat and try to subtly press yourself against the mattress, to ease the traitorous itch between your legs at least a little without dragging his attention to it.

What have you been hoping for? Of course, Gojo would never miss something of this sort…

“All this fuss because you couldn’t rub it out?” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. You would gladly strangle him on point. “Fingers too short? Can’t reach? Babe, and you made me wait? I could—”

“You’re such a jerk.” You throw a pillow at him. He doesn’t even bother to catch or dodge, it stops an inch away from him and falls by his feet, sliding down the invisible shield of his cursed technique.

“You want it or not?” He takes his jacket off and throws it on the bureau. Tight, black t-shirt, fitting snugly his impressive musculature, doesn’t leave much to your imagination. “I’m busy, you know, and we’re sooo understaffed… I can’t waste my time.”

And that’s why you’ve been following me from work and waited all this time by the door? You asshat…

You roll your eyes and fall flat on your back, “Fine, if you’re already here. But wash your hands.”

“Your wish is my order.”

At the back of your head, you feel you’ve just been pulled into a multi-layered prank, but you still kick your pants and underwear off…maybe a tad too fast for your pride’s liking. Feeling the cool air against your dripping slit drives you mad and even more impatient, the sensation of emptiness only more present and pinpointed when you’re lying alone, stripped and waiting. Gojo, of course, takes his time, turning a simple task into a damned show, washing his hands profoundly at least three times (as you judge from the flushing sounds) before eventually wiping the hands dry and marching back. The need to strangle him—with your thighs, for extra flavor—just grows stronger with each passing second.

He stops in the doorframe again, cleaning his illegally long fingers with hand sanitizer and a tissue, each individually, a few times, with an extra attention paid to the nails. His hands are enormous, even for someone of his height and posture: a fact that has always been grasping your attention, pushing your thoughts straight into the darkest circles of lustful hell. You know well what he is capable of with their help, how deep and wide he can stretch you with only two fingers. Your insides twitch just at the thought, shallow breath almost whistles between your grit teeth, and a wave of heat crashes against your skin. It feels as if you were burning and blushing like a girl from shoujo manga—and regardless of what your face really looks you have an itching need to hide behind hands or pillows.

You win against the urge—but your legs aren’t as obedient. They close as soon as Gojo approaches, the echo of clapping thighs has his eyebrow cock in surprise.

“What, changed mind?” He takes glasses off and threads fingers through hair. So close, from the angle you took lying flat on your back, he seems even taller: blue-eyed giant towering over a lamb he chose for a snack.

Even if curling inside, inch by inch giving the reins away to the horny beast ready to bat eyes at him for a crumble of attention, you decide to still play tough. Your legs snap open, confident and welcoming, wobbling at knees only a little bit. You hope he hasn’t paid attention to that.

Abnormally blue eyes skim down your middle. Gojo stretches wrists, then cracks knuckles, one last time doing a show out of his hands. He beckons you closer, the movement of his finger almost hypnotizing, then points at the edge of bed. You expected him to climb on top, but you can’t complain when already rushing to follow the order. At the back of your head, you’re scolding yourself for being so obedient and nice for an asshole who surely pulled all of this circus to trap you for whatever reason his messy mind created. In fact, you’re just enthusiastically lifting hips for him to pile the pillows until he’s satisfied with the level and drops to his knees with a pleased, breathy sigh.

Even when kneeling for you, Gojo seems to tower over your body and soul. He slots himself between your legs, not without a stretch to fit his broad shoulders flush, hands rest on your hips and pull you closer, almost dragging you off the pile of pillows he picked himself. Your mind is already freezing at the feel incomparable to any other hold—but, of course, he can’t stay still. Huge, warm palms, long fingers, skin so smooth you can compare it only with velvet, trail down torturously slow. Your thighs seem to draw between them, their size underlined so well against your flesh. Instinct nudges you to shut your knees together—at the slightest budge though soft hands turn into iron and hold you almost forcefully where he wants you, where you belong.

He’s kneeling for you—but you’re the one left on his mercy. Little, fragile bird closed in the cage of his hands.

“So wet already?” The irritating, singing tone of his taunt ruins the spell. “Phew, it’s all spilling! What would you do, if I weren’t around?”

“I have—” The phantom of the missing toy box cuts you short, the break between words, however short, makes his smirk grow wider. “—fingers, too”

“Too short.” Gojo just states the fact. Compared to his, of course all fingers would be short. When he’s holding your hand, the difference is almost as sharp as between an adult and a child.

And to underline his advantage even more, Gojo reaches between your legs: confident, determined, cheeky. With a thumb, as long as a middle finger on many, he brushes your wet slit: a touch simple yet sparking your nerves so hard you jerk up and wiggle, craving more and overstimulated at the same time. Of course, he went right for the most sensitive lines and edges, your body like an open book against the all-seeing power of his eyes.

“Hey, hey, where are you going?” The other hand clenches harder and pulls you down, back to the place he chose. “You want to cum or not? Make up your mind.”

“Then start your work already?" You hiss through clenched teeth, now determined to fight against the odds, even if it wouldn’t last longer than a couple of seconds. You know he’d turn you into jello in five seconds if only he wanted to, but you have your pride—and your pride calls for standing your ground at all costs.

Gojo’s face is hard to read now, frozen right on the thin line between no thought and intense focus, his brows slightly furrowed—but not enough to ruin the smooth perfection. It doesn’t last longer than a few seconds, a cheeky grin soon returns…and from one meeting of your eyes you know you’ve just stepped into a serious problem. “So chirpy and pecky today. Alright. Here we go.”

He touches you exactly the same way, except…not really. Your hips budge again and a needy purr presses to your lips, but there is something not right. You know Gojo, you know his hands and his ways. The last crumble of the sane mind desperately tries to pull your attention to it before it’s too late—but another lazy swipe of his thumb swallows it like a black hole swallows light.

Well aware of the death penalty, you walk into the delicious trap with a smile and enthusiasm.

“Let’s see.” Gojo hums and brushes your clit one last time. He starts sliding a single finger into you, until at the third of its length he’s sure you don’t need much of a warmup. A withdrawal, then attack continues with two fingers, slipping smoothly and fast. Breath stills in your throat, you sigh, then moan feeling him reaching the depths many can’t achieve with a dick. He stills at your reaction, a quick, blue glance swipes across your face in a way so easily to be taken as a concern, especially in the state you’re currently drowning in: of a sheer, blind trust and eagerness to take anything he gives you without a shadow of doubt. A few seconds pass, enough to stir you on, not enough to let your brain cool down, and he starts stretching you a little, testing your capabilities with a patience of saint: withdrawing as he feels a resistance, attacking almost immediately after anew, and back.

Right as he has you ready for the third finger, Gojo pulls out, leaving you heated up, right on the verge of entering the state of blank pleasure and need for more.

“You really hadn’t been playing with yourself before I came here?” He looks at the thick strings of your arousal gluing his fingers and sliding down his knuckles. “You’re like butter today.”

A protest—at his disbelief and the comparison—dies on your lips at the sight of Gojo’s tongue swiping fast between his digits. He licks himself clean, then stuffs fingers into his mouth and sucks, enjoying your taste throughout. It’s a shameless demonstration, a jab right into the memory of his oral skills and a silent question. You would like it, wouldn’t you? So bad you will need to ask for it—no guarantee he will listen, though…

“Snack break over!” He announces with a toothy grin, prolonging the vowels like an overexcited child. Licking lips one last time, he returns to his task, two fingers in, dangerously close to the point you know—

“Fuck!” You choke on breath, turning into a tense string of pleasure. From lazy simmering you’re yanked towards the high with nothing but a lazy brush of fingertips—and then back when he returns to prior depth and pace, interested in nothing but patient stretching.

“Mmm? Ohhh? What is it?” He coos, all-seeing blue gazing right between your legs with intensity capable of piercing you like his fingers. “Felt that good? With only two fingers? Ohh, someone is sooo needy—”

The need to bark back at him—or strangle him, if he’s already within reach of your thighs—perks its head again, the more, the slower his fingers become, almost smothering the little flame under your lust. But as you try to move your hips against him, the other hand grabs and pins, and his eyes flick up, wide open, equally beautiful and terrifying,

He’s in charge here. You lie down and wait.

“You want me to work and then do everything on your own,” he even scolds you, with the same tone he uses against his students when he actually bothers to pass as serious. “I won’t find anything, if you keep wiggling around.”

His fingers curl with surgical precision, circle around the spot but not really touch it. The heat starts bubbling again, and you bite on your lips, fighting against it and trying to stay still as much as possible, from your twitching hole to heaving chest.

“That’s it! That’s a good little thing!” Gojo’s face is simply beaming with a smile—but of course he doesn’t make your task easy. His fingers inch closer and closer, right on the edge, brushing and teasing, but never daring to cross the border. Tears start pricking in your eyes, the forced stillness and insatiable urge to act up and steal that last crumble you need for the spark of pleasure. You’re tortured with praise, humiliated with words sweet like honey—and despite everything craving to remain in this state. Everything for him to finally push that damned button.

“Satoru…” You whine, the last resolve perking up and crumbling into dust soon after. There goes your pride, at this point you’re ready to throw yourself at everything he offers. Truly a slave of sheer biology, of the itch that’s been with you since morning, through all those long hours of work, then desperate search of the only remedy you had before he’s appeared.

You haven’t stayed still, you haven’t listened, of course his fingers start to withdraw, the peak drifts out, behind the clouds, so close yet so far… Ready to mewl again, you bite your lips until you feel pain and the urge withdraws. The only sound you’ll allow is begging, until his fingers return and—

Gojo presses the button.

A push is sudden and brutal, you’re flying towards the peak, landing face-down right before it, tumbling towards the longed-for finish along the steep ridge. Just a little more, just one second longer, just harder, just—

“Hmm, I wonder if I will fit three…” Out of nowhere Gojo pulls out of you, the peak not only yanked from underneath your feet but also thrown beyond your sight. Groaning and swearing, eyes full of frustrated tears, you dig both heels into his back…or at least attempt to, a merciless barrier pushing you away the more the harder you try.

“You. Asshole.” You spit through gritted teeth. “I don’t need three, I need to cum!”

“Told ya you won’t cum if you’re gonna squirm.” Gojo pouts, much like a child scolded for innocence. “I really can’t take a good aim. Hm. Maybe we need to change angle a little—”

He throws your hips up as if they were nothing, folds your legs to his liking until you’re nice and bent, thighs supported against his shoulders. One bastard grin later Gojo indeed fits three fingers at once, the stretch prominent even for your arousal and experience with him. He could make it easy, but he decides to be an ass for no reason, maybe except for the strain and masochist pleasure all over your face. Lewd, squelching sounds follow your mewls and chirps, with the weird position he’s forced on you your juices trickle down your ass and back almost like a stream. Maybe he made you squirt, you’re not sure anymore what’s going on, thrown around and torn between burning edge and infuriating denial. Your world keeps narrowing to his fingers filling your hole suit, so deep he nears your limit and so precisely he’s teasing everything but that one spot.

“C’mon, you said you want to cum.” Gojo presses your legs down even more, the pressure inside you barely bearable. Piercing blue gaze is too strong for you to handle, you close your eyes so hard your face freezes in a ridiculous, scrunched expression. “Hey, no giving up on it. You can do it, Y/N!”

Shut up. Shut up. I beg you, shut up and just let me come—

“Satoru…” The last mewl nears crying, your breath stutters and melts into a dry sob. You’re half an inch away from breaking and bursting into tears. You can handle only as much, your legs tremble around his head, exhausted and strained, your helpless hole clenches on him with a silent pleading. Just that one push…

“Shh, I know. I’m sorry. I got you.” Cruel fingers slow down and withdraw. Gojo adjusts his position; lets go of your legs but lifts your hips even higher. Something hot and lighter than breeze brushes your wet, tortured folds, a rustle of a deep breath comes to your ears in a break between your sounds of pleasure and frustration.

Through tears nearly blocking your vision you risk a peak, right at the perfect moment to meet his eyes. Smiling—not cheeky but peaceful and admiring—Gojo looks down at you with warm love. The tip of his tongue swipes teasingly between his lips—before plunging itself deep in you, swirling and dancing until it finally finds the string you crave to be pulled.

Sharp orgasm throws your head back into the mattress and arches your body. Almost screaming, you spasm and shake, your heels finally finding leverage against his back and digging bruises as you ride your high against his lips. He slurps and sucks, his face pressed deep, nose grazing your clit until the second wave crashes against you, the second high even more steep and powerful.

Strong hands don’t let you fall. Groaning low in his own pleasure, Gojo drinks from you until you stop creaming and gushing, the moves of his tongue slowing down together with you, careful to not graze your oversensitive nerves too much. The next time you dare to look at him you immediately shut your eyes tight. The sight of his beautiful face, all wet with your juices and flushed with arousal, is simply too much for your ever-spent body and mind.

Your legs fall limp when Gojo lets go of them. There’s no power left in your limbs, he has to gently scoop and move you to the side before slotting himself by your side, head resting on hand, the other hand gently wiping sweat off your forehead. You take your time to come down and ease your breath, each drag of air almost painful with your rib muscles so strained. Your groin burns with satisfied fire, you’re still twitching over emptiness—it’ll take a good while for the double orgasm to finally ease.

When you finally gather the power to roll head to side and open your eyes, you meet the barrier of sunglasses. You have no idea when Gojo put them back on, but you’re grateful. If you gazed into that terrifying blue, you surely would roll back into the heat.

“The box is under the bathroom cabinet, by the way.” He throws out of nowhere and yawns.

“What? How—”

“I don’t know, maybe we kicked it when I was having you against it?” He rolls on back and stretches arms and back with a loud groan. “I think you were washing the toys when— Ough! What for?!”

You have enough power to slap him through the head three times, each too weak to hurt even a fly.

“I fucking hate you…” You sigh when he grabs it and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“You were saying something quite different when I had tongue down your— Whoa, whoa, alright! Sorry!”

He grabs your wrist and rests your hand on your chest before leaning in for a kiss. His lips are full of your taste—but still, a faint flavor of sugar breaks through. You can’t help chuckling. Just how much of it he had to stuff in himself before he came here…

“Sleep.” He guides you to rest your head on his chest. You nuzzle close, happy, and smiling at the light, barely visible hair covering it. “You're gonna need lots of energy for round two.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t you think we’re finished.” For a split second, right before fatigue wins and closes your eyes for good, the blue slips past sunglasses, cold and hungry, dangerous. “Silly doll…”

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x afab reader #gojo imagine #gojo scenario #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x afab reader #bas writes #jjk #gojo satoru #sinful #afab reader

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hyuuukais · 3 months

Text

.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-

pairing • bang chan x fem reader

synopsis • fiction or reality? y/n preferred the former, escaping into another world, escaping her problems. so what happens when reality takes that away from her; wiping her own story-in-progress off both her laptop and beloved usb? and what happens when she opens the door in the middle of a crisis to none other then the love interest of her novel... and he's holding her usb?

warnings • general, character death, blood, chan is very much in pain

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN • FIND ME (1.8k)

Waves crash against a beach that shouldn't exist, especially not in the middle of a populated city. Darkness eats up your surroundings, allowing you to just barely see the man standing at the edge of the water. He stands still, untouched by the wind or rain, or the ocean water drowning his ankles. He's not in the same clothes as you last saw him, but instead a short-sleeved white shirt with matching bottoms. From what you can tell, he's not wearing shoes, bare footprints imprinted in the sand only just beginning to dissolve.

Calling out to him would be of no use; he won't hear you, and even if he could, would he turn around? Or has he realized this is his chance to leave you and choose his own fate? Has Yeonjun manipulated him like he did you? Before you can change your mind, you keep going. With an arm up to shield your eyes from the spray of water, you keep going. Mental walls keep your doubts away, and you keep going. You are determined to have the last laugh.

Cold water hits your skin, soaking your pant legs in one go. You really should have taken your shoes off before getting in.

"Chan," you can barely hear yourself, placing an arm on his shoulder. "Ah!"

You jolt away, hand burning a bright red. On his shoulder is a handprint singed onto the white material, the same shape and size as your own. Up close, you can see his eyes are closed and his nose is dripping blood, decorating his shirt like an inkblot, the red colour appearing black in the night. Reaching out physically clearly isn't an option, not wanting to burn him or yourself again. So you stand in front of him as close as you dare, closing your eyes and willing him to come back to you.

Wheezing, coughing, tears brimming. Similar symptoms to when Minho passed out in your living room, except Chan is fully awake on the floor of the hospital. You're lying in a bed less than a foot away from him, your ex hovering over your motionless body, and he can't do anything; can't move, can barely breathe, and every time he does try to move his head swims so intensely he thinks he'll throw up. His arm has started to reappear slowly, painfully.

"I could take her," Yeonjun breaks the silence. "Not like you can do anything about it in your position."

The occasional threats he's been spewing out have started to mean nothing to Chan. If he were to do something, he'd have done it by now. What is he waiting for? Or is he dragging this out simply to watch everyone suffer? To Chan, that seems likely.

A burning pain covers his shoulder and he hisses, bringing a hand up to feel the warmth. There's a tear in the shape of a handprint where the fabric of his shirt should be.

"Chan."

"Hello?" Chan attempts to sit up, vision blurring and black spots entering the edges of his sight, but he manages to prop himself up on the bed leg.

"Chan," he hears again. "Find me, please. I'm here."

And he knows exactly who he's hearing now. "Y/n? Where... where are you? You're here, but you're not really here, are you?"

No one answers, not even Yeonjuns taunting. Yeonjun, who should still be where he was sitting by your body. Yeonjun, who is no longer there.

He crashes onto a car parked on the street, glass breaking and the horn honking loudly. Pain has been a foreign concept up until now, an aching sensation spreading through his back while people gather around to watch his next moves. Jeongin gasps, sliding off the roof of the car and crumbling into himself on the ground. A wet feeling covers the back side of his body, but he doesn't dare touch it. Maybe it's better not knowing the damage done.

Struggling to stand up with wobbly legs, Jeongin uses the car as support. The crowd has only gotten bigger, but they don't do anything. No one tries to touch him or hurt him; no one approaches at all. As he walks through the horde, they part slightly to let him limp through. When he finally reaches the edge, there's a small cat waiting for him, looking up at him with big eyes and rubbing against his leg. It bounds forward, stopping to look at him expectantly.

"Want me to follow you?" His voice comes out shaky, distant.

Of course, the cat doesn't reply, only waits for him to step forward before it continues on. It doesn't look back again, trusting Jeongin is following closely. The night has turned cold, so, so cold, and he shivers intensely as they walk onto a street with fewer buildings, less protection. Walking is becoming harder, limbs growing numb. Whether that's from the cold or the pain in his back, Jeongin ignores it regardless. He doesn't know how he got here, only that he needs to make it back to you and the others.

Eventually, the cat stops at an intersection just outside of town. On a nearby post, there's a bouquet of flowers hanging on by a ribbon wrapped around it, a photo stapled underneath of a little boy and his parents. The ground around the post is damp, a small puddle forming right at the base.

"Why did you bring me here?" But when he turns the cat is gone, someone standing with their back to him in its place.

"You need to stop interfering." The man turns around, metal glinting in his hand.

Everything happens quickly, the rush forward and the warm, wet liquid running down Jeongin's chest and stomach. He can't move, hitting the ground soundlessly with the man standing over him. The taste of copper fills his mouth, his nose. There's nothing he can do except lay here and wait for the night to take him, droplets of water hitting his face softly.

It's starting to rain.

Soft hands touch your face and the aggressive sounds of waves crashing fade around you. Your eyes flutter open, revealing Chan, who's holding you and looking at you like he's been away for a long, long time. Instinctively, you pull away, but he holds on tighter, wrapping one arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, hand in your hair. He's shaking, barely stable. And he smells really good, too good for someone who was previously standing in the sea covered in blood. The warmth of his body is so tempting to lose yourself in, but you know better.

"Chan." You pull away again, not leaving his arms, but giving enough space to look him in the eyes again. "You found me?"

"I will always find you," he whispers. "Always, no matter where you are I'll find you. Just call my name and I'll be there."

A smile breaks out on your face. Despite everything, you feel safe with him, almost happy. His nose nudges yours, breath on your skin. It's almost enough for you to not realize the icy feeling creeping up your back, or the way the world around you has been consumed by light. Now you really pull away, despite Chan's whining. You've never seen this room before, but you're dressed in the same white that covers the walls, the same white you found Chan in.

In the middle of the room stands a mirror with two frozen figures in front of it. You immediately recognize them; Minho and Jeongin aren't moving, not even breathing by the looks of it. Frozen tears lay halfway down Jeongin's face, and Minho's fist is stopped seconds away from the reflective surface, white clothes stained bright red.

"What is this place?" You ask, more to yourself than anyone else.

You're finally here, a voice whispers in your ear. Are you ready?

"Ready?" You walk a slow circle around the mirror, stopping on the other side; both are reflective. "Ready for what?"

To get married, it says. Or to end it all. Really, the choice is yours. He thinks he's in control of this, of you, but he's not. That is, unless you keep letting him be.

"No, I won't let him." You don't need to ask who 'he' is, standing your ground. "He doesn't get to be a part of my life anymore. I have a plan."

That's it.

You walk back to Chan, whispering in his ear, and he stares at you as you pull away. He opens his mouth to speak, but you place a finger on his lips. This was all you could think of and you couldn't have any possible doubt in your mind about it. Walking over to the frozen bodies of your friends, you whisper in their ears knowing they may not hear you wherever they are. You don't even know if they'll be with you when this happens. Up close, you notice a red stain growing bigger on Jeongin's chest, but there's no source from what you can tell. When you touch him, you get the same zap as you did with Chan.

When you go back to the mirror, the surface ripples ever so slightly, a smaller version of yourself standing in front of you. She's shrunk into herself, a dark bruise hidden behind the messy hair in her face. Your heart aches looking at her, at you. Beside her, a shadowed figure places a hand on the back of her head and she flinches, hair being pulled tight, but she doesn't make a sound. You can feel a hand on your own head, but no one pulls. Someone is stroking your hair, soothing you instead of scaring you.

"Can you see this?" You ask, voice barely audible, somehow too loud in your ears at the same time.

"Yes," Chan answers. "Yes, I can."

You reach out, hand touching the mirror. It takes a minute, but she brings her hand out too, pausing in fear of the shadow behind her when he shifts forward. His chest is pressed against her back, his unoccupied hand wrapping around her neck lightly. With a surge of courage, she flies forward, and your hands clasp through the boundary.

A flash of pain hits you; you would have fallen to the ground if not for Chan's hold on you. The feeling of him starts to fade, and you open your eyes, not registering them closing in the first place. You're lying on a plush couch, and when you move, you feel your skirt ride up. Someone enters the room as you sit up, not having a second to recognize the room you're in.

"Hyun's outside in the car when you're ready." Yeji sits next to you, placing a hand on yours which lays on the skirt of your wedding dress, fingers clawing into the material. "Are you sure you want this?"

Deja vu hits you strong, memories of this conversation happening a different way playing in your head.

"Tell him to come inside," you decide. "I'm getting married."

●

notes • we're getting married yall!!!!!!!!!!!! also, rip jeongin, u will be missed king. unless, yk, ur not actually dead yet. who said that?

taglist • @yongbbokkie @chaeryred @tenebrisirae @toplinelix @chansdoll @amaranth-writing @3rachachoo @linosjureumi @thebrownemo @tfshouldidohere @channie-143 @frogieeheart @kangaracharacha @skzswife @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @palindrome969 @laylasbunbunny

TAGLIST CLOSED ^^^blue means i can't tag you

#.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-#skz #stray kids #non idol au #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x fem reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #bang chan series #bang chan fanfic

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redemn · 1 month

Text

he’s been settled against the wall of the small shack not too far from the firefight for a good ten minutes by now , tending to his arm . a stroke of bad luck had sent a bullet clean through the center of his dominant bicep , and now he can’t lift his arm too high without wincing and dropping it back down . on the outskirts of the waning fight , he’d found ample time to scamper away and find a suitable place to rest and patch up .

it was only a matter of time before he was finally found out , and found . by now , he’s finished wrapping his arm , and has himself sat against the outer wall of the shack for a rest . drearily , the outlaw lifts his chin up high and rests the back of his head against the wood , looking off at a nearby tree just behind the other man .

@shibemuses . ❝ it’s considered impolite not to give your all in a fight . ❞ from whiskey

he barks out a grunt of a laugh , unsmiling , through his nostrils , and throws his arm out in a nonchalant gesture in the man’s direction . ❝ you looked like you had it covered . ❞ and now , he lifts his gaze , solid blue-greens seeking whiskey's right out . ❝ ‘sides . it’s also considered impolite to get yourself killed when you can spare yourself and jump in at a different time . which is what i was plannin’ to do , before it all got sorted out . you would’ve seen me again . i just ain’t no use to you right now . ❞ a pause , as he looks whiskey over . ❝ you hurt ? or you just mad i left ? ❞

╰ ゜TLOZ : TP STARTERS. / 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.

#shibemuses #( ;; hehehe. have this mess. )#╰ ゜verse. * when the time comes ; there ain't no forgiveness.#╰ ゜in character. * answered.

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silentcryracha · 11 months

Text

❍ ‗ Love Language (Skz - Maknae line) ‗ ❍

Pairings : Jisung x reader, Felix x reader, Seungmin x reader, Jeongin x reader

Genre/warnings : They all start fluffy and fun and end up smutty, You've been warned. 18+. (eventual specific warnings will be at the start of the paragraphs)

Summary : Specific situations in which I think skz would go feral in. Very easy. Half headcanon/half scenario.

Word count :

A/n : As promised here is the maknae line! Also just wanted to specify that many members may share the same hobbies/passions but of course I tried to switch it up a lil lol. The summary and title suck I know apologies, just read to understand lol Anyways have fun!

ps: There could be errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

Hyung line here

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Jisung ‗ ❍

Jisung is a nerd (affectionate <3), everyone knows. Now, he seems to be pretty proud of it, and I genuinely get the vibe that he would dislike people who picked on it for no reason. Like, why do you hate fun dude?

And that's exactly why he does like people who are able to have fun with these pop culture/nerdy things like he can. You're automatically a cool person to him. And imagine if on top of that, you maybe even share his tastes AND you're hot?? Then it's settled, you're his.

Watching anime, dramas, movies but also reading manga, manhwas (and so on), but in general indulging into this type of content seems to be both a hobby and a comfort activity for Jisung, so it's natural that he would love to share this with his s/o.

You'd recommend things to each other, both to watch together and separately, or maybe keep up with the same things and then discuss them and your opinions. It would definitely be something that would connect you more on a personal level, too, I think.

Especially since you can learn so much about a person simply by understanding their likes/dislikes, what makes them cry, what makes them laugh ( or *aroused*).

It becomes a natural thing between you two to use this common interest as a way to connect even more and lift each other's mood when you need it. Maybe one day you're being a little sad or disappointed for some reason, and Han would just either drop a very specific reference that would make you laugh or simply suggest spending some time together and relax.

Of course, it would be a mutual thing. You'd absolutely use these little infos about him, like having a particular preference/crush for a character, at your advantage. I feel like that would get him more flustered than he'd like to admit.

This little game would absolutely turn somewhat kinky in some way, at some point. Like role play kinky. It could be in a very random moment, for example you two could be watching something and one of you would go "That was hot. Want to make out?" and then you'd end up fucking on the couch at 4 pm on a Sunday, just because.

Or it could be a planned thing. "I prefer the villains anyway" you'd randomly say during a talk, shrugging casually. And man, would he take notes. Next thing you know he's going to randomly pin you against the wall, a hand sliding lightly up from your chest to your neck, "Do you trust me?" you eyes wide, a little confused but excited, you'd answer "Yes". He'd smirk, proceeding to tell you all the filthy things he was going to do to you.

I am a firm believer that Jisung is a switch so yes the situation could 100% be reversed.

Felix ‗ ❍

With Felix the options could be multiple, but for now let's focus on his 'nerdy' side. In this case it leans more into computers/electronics and gaming, which I think is a bit more specific than something like watching anime.

It's more a relaxing activity and a hobby (one of) than a passion in my opinion, so I don't think that he would search specifically for a s/o was also into these things, but if you were then it would be very cool.

Nonetheless he would let you into these things pretty easily, and you would be happy and eager to hear all about it, of course. At the end of the day seeing him getting excited and enjoying his time was the thing that mattered the most, and you felt good knowing that he cared enough to the point of wanting, or maybe even involuntarily, talk about it with you.

It would probably take a little for him to actually be completely comfortable, meaning that I see him as someone who would not hide his hobby but would try to make it 'cool'. Like, "Me? losing? never" and you'd be like "Sure sweet cheeks" and then just watch him get his ass beat up by the other players. Of course with time you'd earn his trust and confidence enough to be allowed to roast him whenever you wanted to (lovingly ofc).

But you would also be his number one fan! He would love to have you present as a 'lucky charm' or ask a kiss for good luck, to bet with you jokingly, to comment and complain about the game itself or other players and so on. Felix would love to have you around in general to be honest. It would greatly help his mood whenever he got frustrated or nervous for some reason.

He would also find it extremely cute when you got a little clingy, like laying your head on his shoulder or hug him from behind just because you felt like it. He loves getting attention and physical contact with his loved ones, so of course he'd appreciate it a lot.

But of course like all things between couples that are fun and cute, could also very quickly turn into heated situations. "This damn game is pissing me off! And that guy just keeps being so annoying, shit" he'd complain, waving a hand in the air in annoyance. You couldn't help but be just a little amused seeing your cute boyfriend get all worked up, the frown on his face just about as threatening as a kitten hissing.

"Mmh" you'd hum, getting up from wherever you'd be sitting, "I'm going to take a shower now. How about you get a rematch, beat that annoying dude and win for me? Then we can celebrate" his mouth would go slightly agape and his eyes wide looking up at you. You'd just chuckle and get his headphones back up on his head before walking away.

Not even five minutes into the shower he would burst in, undressing himself on the way and join you. "Did you win already?" you'd ask in amusement. He would shut you up with a feverish kiss "No, I got distracted" he'd smirk in between kisses, "Besides that cunt can go fuck himself, I got better things to think of"

Seungmin ‗ ❍

Seungmin would love to have an s/o that matched his vibe. He also has side hobbies outside of work, so for example he would love to get you involved in them. But in general of course you'd make sure to always support him and share his excitement.

That one baseball team that he absolutely dies for played a game and won? Suddenly you become fan number two. Do you give a fuck? Maybe not. Does he know? Of course he does but that's why he'd be ten times more happy if you decided to play along. Also knowing how fast this man can switch vibe, you would trul just wouldn't know what to expect next.

"Didn't you say that you can't stand sports?" you'd roll your eyes at him dramatically, "You little sh-" he'd just laugh and kiss your cheek as a silent thank you. I feel like he would genuinely value that a lot, especially if he knew you only did it for him.

Seungmin would be beyond entertained in a situation in which he was being a little shit to someone and you'd just, play on his team. Either of you could casually drop the most out of pocket comment about something and the other would throw back a smart response and then you'd just keep going. Literal partners in crime.

Again, he looks like a man that has range. From cute, to serious, funny, sarcastic and even sexy. And an s/o that could put up with it and be able to respond perfectly to his mood would make him thrive, I think.

He also seems like someone who wouldn't enjoy having his boundaries messed with, though. If he was mad or seriously anxious, he wouldn't like someone acting off and maybe undermining his feelings. But he'd like someone that would take him seriously and tried to help in practical ways.

This boundaries could also imply physical touch or specific words/behaviours. For example, you could decide to play with his hand in public rather than getting all over him and kiss him. Or again, I feel like he wouldn't be the number one fan of being too cheesy in front of other people, but could very well appreciate it when you're in private.

He definitely has a romantic side to him, so you initiating stuff with him would make his heart flutter like crazy, in the right situation. There could be some exceptions, though. Imagine you're out with a group of friends, and you decide to tease him a little.

You'd lean in and whisper, "Seungie, I'm bored". He'd raise an eyebrow at you, genuinely confused at first, "Is something wrong? Do you want to go home?"

You wrap your arm around his, your head resting on his shoulder "No, I didn't say that. I would just rather to do something else" he was eyeing you a bit suspiciously now, carefully asking "Like what?".

You'd try to hide a smile and respond very casually, purposefully making him even more flustered. "You?" he'd absolutely have to control himself from making too obvious expressions, making you chuckle.

He'd silently curse you for getting him worked up in such a situation, but then after a few minutes he'd casually say that it has gotten late and you should go, or straight up make up an excuse. Now, what happens after and its consequences are gonna be on you and you alone ;)

Jeongin ‗ ❍

Jeongin would probably love to have a s/o that is similar to him. Meaning that he'd probably way more inclined to want spend time with someone that he can share anything with, emotionally, physically, habits wise.

I feel like he values communication and understanding a lot. He would like to have someone who knows him well and with whom he could maybe create some sort of routine? He also is someone who may be a little hard to read, but definitely has different range depending on whom he's with. That alone implies a great sense of trust.

You'd undoubtedly have to keep up with him, though. He seems to be generally a pretty quiet person, but could absolutely get a little crazy sometimes. Like, one evening you'd be quietly having a relaxing time at home and then the morning after, when you wake up he'd randomly go like "So, how about we take the train and visit this place today?"

You'd kind of just impulsively go and have a great time. Regardless. Could be raining, be tremendously hot, super windy. You could lose the train or the bus, drop your ice cream on the floor, literally anything but it wouldn't ruin your day. Because you both have that kind of positive and carefree attitude that makes you match so well.

I feel like he wouldn't ask for anything specific except someone that can keep him in a good mood and be there for him when he needs it. You'd just be a safe space for each other, honestly.

Kinda feel like he's secretly quite affectionate, especially with an s/o and a few other exceptions (kids and animals, lol). Jeongin is clearly a very sweet person in general, but I do feel like he holds himself back a bit when he gets anxious about 'exposing' himself too much emotionally.

Still wouldn't 100% be a very clingy or cheesy person in public, but would allow toned down PDA like holding hands, leaning your heads on each other, sharing smiles. Something a little more specific, is hugging or being closer to each other in a crowded place like the subway, an event, a square and so on.

He would very much appreciate conversation. A kind word, some encouragement, a joke or just you being calm and trying to influence your good mood on him would be more than enough. He would probably be really touched by it.

I feel like you'd have 'your' thing. Like a couple ring, necklace charm, bracelet. Something small and private that only the two of you would 'get', and find great comfort in it.

Let's not forget about his silly side though, this man could be the sweetest angel in one moment and start joking around/teasing you in the next. You'd laugh a lot together, and those would most likely also be the situations in which things could get heated.

Even in sudden moments, just out of pure love. For example, while you're roaming around the city, having fun and just being so full of life and love that at some point it would feel almost...overwhelming.

You'd just look at each other, feeling such intimate connections that you'd probably just spend the whole way back home giggling and exchanging super lovey-dovey eyes. Until you do in fact reach home, and that's where the magic would happen. Could be slow and romantic, undressing sensually and smiling type of vibe, or it could turn into something a lot more passionate and frenetic. You're just going to have to find out day by day with him :')

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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gojocp · 7 months

Text

things they've done/said

cw: some of gojo's dialogue is from 'dangerously yours', pookie pie's so cute brah, can you tell i'm mostly writing for characters i have a preference for?? also how tf do you write good apologies that sound genuine? LMFAO featuring: gojo satoru, geto suguru, megumi fushiguro

a/n: hello!! school's kicking my ass guys, sorry for not posting for a while. i literally lost all motivation :(( anyways, lmk how this is, hope you enjoy!! credits to my annoying sister for the idea for megumi's scenario.

GOJO SATORU: ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Once, I told you I'd kissed a thousand women.." Satoru starts.

You reminisce before you and Satoru started dating, how he tried his hardest to make you fall for him, only to fall in love himself.

.・。.・゜✭・.

"I've kissed sooo many women before. A thousand, probably more than that." Satoru boasts, a faint blush on his face. "One more kiss from you doesn't mean anything..!"

"I'm sure it doesn't.." You respond, leaning into him for another.

.・。.・゜✭・.

"Go on.." You say, urging him to continue.

"It was a lie.." He confesses, feeling his ears grow warm.

"I know.." You state, smiling fondly at him.

"You- wh- you knew??" He exclaims, stunned that you knew the whole time. And here he though he was being so secretive.

"Yeah, it was pretty obvious. I mean- you kissed a thousand women? Nobody believed that." you continue, gazing at him with love in your eyes.

"Yeah right! You only know now because I told you." The high schooler retorts, refusing to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't convince you.

"..okay.." You say, letting it go and resting your head on his shoulder.

You both gaze at the sunset, blissfully wrapped in each other's arms. Satoru pulls you closer and starts,

"How many guys have you kissed?"

"Very few. None of them meet the criteria," You answer.

"Oh? And I met it, right? I mean, you kiss me all the time," he responds smugly, facing you with a teasing grin plastered on his lips.

"Not really, no."

"WHAT?!"

"I just wanted to kiss you, that's why.." You confess, feeling your cheeks grow the slightest bit warm.

"Ahh.. and I don't suppose you'd want to kiss me right now, would you? He teasingly asks, cupping your face with one hand and leaning in with a smile.

"I would, actually," You respond, playing along with his childish antics.

Pulling away, he stares at you lovingly.

"Now, tell me what I need to do to meet the criteria."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

GETO SUGURU: ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Isn't she soo hot??" Satoru exclaims loudly, showing his phone to your boyfriend Suguru. "It's Waka Inoue. She's soo fine."

"Yeah, she is." He agrees, smiling at his friend.

'Is this guy fucking serious?' You think, sharing a look with Shoko, telling you she was thinking the same thing. 'Who calls another girl hot in front of their girlfriend?'

"She's hot?" You question, an eerie look in your eyes that causes Suguru to low-key freak out.

"Yeah, wanna see?" Satoru asks, showing his phone to you. it reveals a woman in a bikini posing (though it does very little to cover her skin).

"...This is what you're into?" You continue to press your boyfriend over the matter, upset that he would agree with his friend calling other women 'hot' and 'fine' in front of you.

"Uh-well-not- it's like.." He sputters, his ears reddening as his two friends laugh at his expense.

"Wow," You say flatly, turning on your heel and walking away upset.

.・。.・゜✭・.

"I fucked up.." Suguru says, resting his head in his hands. "Yeah, we know.." Responds Satoru, clearly not helping this situation, as he receives a pointed glare from his friend.

"What do I do? She probably hates me." Suguru asks, aiming his question at his brunette classmate rather than toward his idiot friend.

"Talk to her, man.. communication is key," she responds, patting her sulking friend's back.

"And!! Tell her she's soo pretty, and you love her sooooo much and buy her flowers and chocolate and a necklace-"

"OKAY!" Suguru interrupts, having enough of his white-haired friend's antics. "I'll just, talk to her... I think I really hurt her feelings. I mean- she hasn't come out of her room since then and she won't talk to me. It's been 4 hours."

"I don't think she likes you anymore," Satoru interjects, however, his words fall on deaf ears as Shoko starts to speak,

"She looked upset. I mean, if she was telling me she thought some guy was 'so fine' and 'so hot' you'd be upset too, right?" She questions, trying to get your boyfriend to understand your feelings.

"Yeah.." He agrees, thinking about his plan and how he's going to win you back (even though he hadn't really lost you in the first place).

.・。.・゜✭・.

knock knock knock

"Yeah?" You sigh, opening the door. To your surprise, you see your boyfriend holding flowers with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Wh- huh? What is this?" You manage to ask, after standing shocked for a minute.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it when I said she was hot. I wasn't thinking. I didn't take into consideration how it'd make you feel. And, god, I'm so sorry. If you don't want to talk to me ever again, I get it. But.. at least take this." He sighs, holding out the flowers for you.

You take the flowers from him and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. He wraps his arms around your waist tightly and holds you close to him. He lets out a sigh as he feels you relax against him, glad you aren't upset anymore.

"I'm sorry too, I overreacted. I know you probably didn't mean it, but I got upset, and..." you begin, not wanting to acknowledge your feelings, even though you know it's for the better, "insecure."

"And it's okay. If I were you, I would've done the same thing." He reassures, pulling away to cup your cheeks in his hands.

He leans in and places a kiss on your lips, tilting his head to get a better angle as you wrap your arms around his waist. As you pull apart to breathe, you hear a familiar agitating voice,

"EWW! Get a room, guys!! You're disgusting!"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO: ─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"ITADORI!! OUT OF THE WAY!!" Yelled Nobara, skating at high speeds directly towards Itadori.

"huh?- OH GOD!"

"Kugisaki, slow down."

"I CAN'T!"

Nobara rams into Itadori and they both slide across the floor, knocking down everything else in the way.

"That's about to be me." You say to Megumi, holding onto the wall so you don't fall.

"It's not that hard, they just suck... Here, I'll teach you." He replies softly, holding a hand out to you. You take one hand off the wall and hold onto his with all you might, clutching it with the other.

He slowly guides you around the rink, paying no mind to the strength you're using to hold onto his hand. As your classmates lay helplessly on top of each other, you say,

"Shouldn't we help them?"

"They'll be fine," Megumi responds, sparing them no more than a glance.

Amidst the screaming from your friends, you manage to go around the rink twice as Megumi guides you off and to the table where your bags reside. He pulls out a chair and slowly helps you sit, handing you a water bottle.

"Thank you." You say, taking a drink. Directing a soft smile your way, he goes to help his friends still lying on the floor.

As he sits them down, he turns to you and asks,

"Want to go again?"

"Yes!" You gleam, quickly standing up. You seemed to lean forward too much as the ground got closer and closer. However, your boyfriend was there to catch you just in time.

"Careful, don't fall before you get on the rink." He teases, a teasing grin lacing his lips.

"Y-yeah." You stutter, having rarely seen the teasing side of Megumi.

You clutch his hand tighter than last time as he guides you back on to the rink.

"If you keep holding my hand that tight, you won't learn." He starts, prying one of your hands off of his own. "Try with one first. It's not as bad as you think. Trust me."

"Okay.." Your hand shakes in his hold, still scared of falling. As he notices, he says, "I'm holding you. You're not gonna fall."

He takes you around in circles a few times before suggesting you try on your own.

"NO!.. No, I'm okay, let's keep going like this." He slowly pries your hand off his, smiling softly at you as he skates out of arm's reach.

"Just try once, and you can hold my hand again. I'll be right behind you."

You mimic his movements, glad your observation skills are coming in hand. After what feels like an eternity of skating, you make it back to the start of the rink, Megumi trailing behind you.

"Hello, students!! Sorry to cut the fun short, but we're going back now!!" Your teacher calls out, waiting by the door of the roller place.

.・。.・゜✭・.

"Was that your first time rollerblading?" Your boyfriend asks, holding your bag in one hand and your hand in the other, as you trail behind your classmates.

"Yeah.." You respond, slightly embarrassed.

"You did well." He continues, pulling you in for a quick kiss before pulling away and continuing on your walk back, not wanting your friends to tease him about it as they usually do.

"FUSHIGURO!! (Y/N)!! HURRY UP!" Itadori calls out, waiting at the crosswalk with Nobara and Gojo behind him. Gojo shoots you a knowing smile before Megumi responds,

"Yeah, we're coming."

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14dayswithyou · 2 months

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I’ve read the rules! o7

Sai i need to know. Did he even read the book angel gave them. I know he wasn’t reading it when angel texted them if we chose to not invite him over but did he read even the few pages they looked at

or was he just… buying time to think of things/wanted to look like he was interested in the book when they really weren’t

TRUST ME this is VERY important knowledge and no matter what you say i will only like him more 🫶

✦゜ANSWERED: He did not T_T lmaooooo

Realistically, he probably put it back on the shelf the moment Elanor arrived ^^; Part of me wants to say that he hid it somewhere amongst the shelves (because Angel touched this book... Their hands and eyes graced the cover... No one else deserves the luxury of touching it as well...), but I think he'd be too overwhelmed with Angel finally noticing him to give it much thought.

Ren had no interest in reading the book either, but he did pick a "flora" theme for a very specific reason — as opposed to stalling/trying to buy time..... >:3c

Without spoiling too much, it's the same reason why he sometimes comes across as clumsy (with his words) during conversations, talks a lot about AoG, lives in a stupidly expensive and gaudy apartment, stole another person's nickname and made it his own, sometimes comes across as pushy, mimicked another character's exact line, gave Angel a high-end luxury gift, and why the "X I V" clips in his hair correlate to specific letters in the— *I am forcefully removed from the stage*

#Fish fear me because da ''XIV = 14'' post was nothing but a red herring lmao #But seeing how there's more in-game content released; I can reveal a few more hints hehe #To be fair though; this is more-so just silly blog shenanigans and these secrets genuinely have no real impact on the storyline #So please don't think that there's going to be a ton of hidden clues you need to figure out in order to fully experience the game #14DWY is a storytelling experience first and an i-spy game second lmao /gen /silly #💌 — answered.#💖 — 14 days with queue.#vivivav #💖 — about ren.#💜 — canon.

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carakook · 3 months

Text

Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

"You were just so… fuck, so pretty. So cute."

→ Chapters list ←

⚘3. Flower or Weeds?

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: Tonight is all about getting closure from Jungkook so that you can try to move on… but you find yourself wanting to savor your last moments with him rather than dwell on answers to questions you don’t think you really want to know.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 5k+

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of cheating, mentions of sex (no smut this chapter, but it is talked about), mentions of toxic masculinity, mentions of arguing, vulgar language, breaking up (sort of?), mentions of rough sex, you will probably cry? let me know if I miss anything!

⚘A/N: Chapter three! So originally this was supposed to be a very long chapter… but I got carried away, and ended up having to split it up because the WC was way too high. 🥲 The next chapter is going to be released at the same time as this one, so you can read it directly after. Sorry this took so long, I didn’t expect to add so much but I did, and then some stuff came up this weekend. Anyway, enjoy this chapter, the one after this will have lots of smut but also… I cried writing it lol. Thank you for reading. ❤️

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↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Too Much - The Kid LAROI ft. Jungkook

♪Duvet - bôa

♪My Love Mine All Mine - Mitski

♪Scaredy Cat - DPR Ian

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

Closure is something that is needed anytime something ends. Not everyone gets the luxury of closure; some live their lives constantly thinking about the whys, the what-ifs.

Which is why you should be thankful Jungkook stepped up and offered it to you. You were too chicken shit to ask for it because you knew if you reached out to him, it wouldn’t be for closure; it would be for forgiveness. You’d beg him to take you back. He didn’t have to show up today. He could’ve left you wondering why and what if for the rest of your life. You both need this to move on.

And even in knowing this, you’re dreading it. Because closure means there’s an end… that this is truly ending.

Both of your flowers are about to be uprooted and planted elsewhere, far away from each other. The not knowing is what really makes you feel sick. Where will he go? Will he be nurtured, watered, fed? Will he continue to bloom, or will he wilt much like you are now?

Will he be ok?

What about you? Are you about to be placed in a greenhouse that will carefully protect your wilted petals? Or will you somehow find a garden where you belong and can flourish freely without siphoning the life of a flower that you swear doesn’t belong to you?

Or will you fucking wilt away and die?

It sure feels like you could die. Seeing him on his knees begging nearly killed you, as ridiculous as the gesture was. Seeing Jungkook so desperate and broken has fucked with your head almost as much as the prospect of losing him has.

You never wanted to lose him. Never. But this entire situation… has left you drained. You both know it can’t go on.

One last night, you both swear. Just one. For closure, of course…

You were thankful that the pizza guy showed up shortly after Jungkook got on his damn knees and begged (something you will never get over, by the way.), because neither of you knew where to start, he didn’t really plan this far, swore you’d cast him out. And you have no idea what you want out of this.

He insisted on paying for the pizza, seemed a little too eager to do so. But that’s not abnormal. If there’s an opportunity to buy you something, anything, whether it’s pizza or a necklace that costs half your paycheck, he will do it. He wants to do it.

The little things, they fuck you up. It’s like he’s adding salt to the wound.

Also… Jungkook is an emotional eater at times. He was thankful for the distraction because now he can avoid the awkwardness just a little longer while he stuffs his face with the pizza originally only meant for you.

So now you’re both sitting on your couch. His eyes are glued to the TV as he eats, and he looks irritated. Not because he’s actually irritated, just because that’s how he looks when he eats something yummy. Another one of your favorite things about him. He’s too precious.

The little things. They fuck you up. Again and again. Something as small as watching him eat pizza makes you want to give in to the sin and just let it be.

Maybe you could somehow steal the flower…

“This pizza tastes like sex,” he comments around a mouth full, his cheeks puffed out, and eyebrows scrunched as he chews.

You snort in response because there’s no way that cheap-ass pizza tastes like sex. He’s acting as if it’s a pizza from Italy or some shit. Dramatic.

“Don’t know if a pizza tasting like sex is a good thing, Kook…”

He immediately disagrees, shakes his head, and scrunches his brows further. He starts babbling about how sex is beautiful, the best thing in the world, blah blah blah. But you aren’t listening, not really.

Instead, you’re staring, taking in every little detail of him. The way his mouth moves when he speaks, the freckle below his lower lip moving with it. The way his eyes glitter when he talks about something he’s passionate about, such as sex-tasting pizza, apparently. Fuck, you swear there’s an entire galaxy in those eyes. Never seen eyes so expressive before. Stars and sparkles inside of his irises at all times. Or the way that not once has he looked at you since he started eating and babbling. Not once have those sparkly eyes full of stars glanced your way.

You know why. You know he’s procrastinating. He’s trying to make this seem normal like any other day you’d hang out and fuck around. He’s prolonging it.

You aren’t sure if it’s intentional, but he does this often. He’s so bad at saying goodbye. He would drag it out every single time you used to leave after a night spent together. Would keep saying bye, but then start talking about something, anything. Would tempt you to stay. And it worked every damn time because you didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to leave him ever; you’d stay wrapped up in him for the rest of your life if possible. It’s why you never rushed him when he’d do it. You let him.

You want to let him now. But if you let him, he may never leave. You may never let him go.

You really should speak up, be blunt. Tell him that he didn’t come here to chit-chat and talk about why sex is beautiful or how this pizza is comparable to it; he came here to end this.

But if you did that, you’d have to acknowledge the prospect of closure again.

For you to receive proper closure on your end, there are unanswered questions that you need answers to.

You aren’t sure if you want the answers anymore because most revolve around his wife. The luckiest woman in the world, you think.

There are curious questions such as what her name is, how he met her, how long they’ve been married, and what she’s like… these aren’t important, just things that you’ve laid awake wondering at times when the guilt or jealousy started becoming too much.

Then there are questions like does he love her, why he did this, does she love him, why he did this, is he happy, why he did this, will he stay with her forever, why he did this…

Why did he do this to you both?

You know you’re both in the wrong. You’ve been sleeping with a married man, fuck, you fell in love with a married man, and you knew that he was married. That is wrong. So so so wrong. But you didn’t know at first. If you did, nothing he said would have convinced you to even look at him twice.

But it became regular. You slept with him once. Then you did it again. And you kept doing it. And at that time, while you were wearing those rose-colored glasses adorned in petals and leaves that fell off of him every time you crossed paths, you swore he was the one. Fell so quickly it was alarming.

Finding out he was married should have stopped this all. But you were already so fucking gone for him, so stupid in love, that you did it anyway. You told yourself that maybe one day he’ll leave her for you. You can run away together, build your own garden together, and live happily ever after.

It was delusional to think like this and you know it.

It’s exactly why you’re in your current position.

But you will never move on without the answers to those questions. You need to know, or it will plague you. This man planted your seed, nurtured your sprout, and made it grow beautifully into a flower. But the same man also put up umbrellas and blankets in an attempt to protect you from the rain and harsh sun, the harsh realities of his life, which really just made you wilt. You needed the rain, and you needed the sun; without it, you became tired and suffocated and confused.

He wanted so badly to protect you from the selfish choices he was making, but in the end, it just hurt you. Prevented you from flourishing to a full bloom like him.

And now you must pay the consequences, ask these questions you dread asking, and hear the answers that just might break you.

“Kook… we need to talk. Can’t put it off or you’ll stay forever.” You smile sadly as you pull him out of his rant.

He blinks at you, cheeks still stuffed with his third slice of pizza now. He knows you’re right. He knows damn well what he’s doing, he always knows. Always drags goodbyes out on purpose because he can’t fucking stand them.

He thought maybe if he distracted you, you’d forget why he’s here. It would turn into a normal night, and this entire thing could just be categorized as a brief nightmare… A man can dream.

He nods, looks sort of like a scolded child, and it makes your heart crack. Makes you want to cry, coddle him, coo at him, treat him like a damn baby even though he’s a grown-ass man.

“Right, sorry.”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sets his piece of pizza down, looking at it as if it kicked his dog. Starts biting at his lip ring.

You hate it when he does that.

Because you fucking love it when he does that.

“Y/N, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to… give you whatever you need to move one. So please tell me what you need. Just want my girl happy.”

His girl.

Funny, because it seems like a slip-up. It’s not. He knows what he said. He meant it. Doesn’t care if you scold him. Because as long as he’s here before he says bye for good, you are his girl.

You wish he wouldn’t say shit like that right now though. Just makes it so much harder for you. Reminds you that yes, you are his girl. But no, he isn’t your man.

If only you knew that he really is your man. You fucking own his heart, his soul, his body, his damn brain. You live in it rent-free. You consume him. Without you, he wouldn’t even have a flower, wouldn’t even know he’s capable of blooming.

But he knows he can’t give himself to you fully, not as long as he’s married.

Another reminder as to why he’s here.

You sigh, rub your forehead with the back of your hand. Because fuck, you don’t know either. You could ask the curious questions, the more necessary questions, you could pick his brain and pick him apart too, but you don’t want to deal with the heavy shit. Only what is needed.

Because you know that once he walks out that door, you’ll be fucked for a while.

So you grab his hand, the one that’s moved up and started tugging on his lip ring nervously. You intertwine your fingers, and hold on for dear life.

Deep breathes. This is needed.

“Why… why did you do this? Why did you cheat on her to begin with..? Have you done it before or like… fuck. I just wanna understand.”

The moment you ask if he has done it before, he lets out a laugh. An almost pained laugh, because of course you’d think that. Once a cheater, always a cheater. That’s what is often said. And Jungkook totally agrees.

But god, it isn’t like that at all. He is so against cheating. He thinks it is so selfish and so wrong. Yet here he is, in your apartment, while his wife is on a business trip somewhere in Paris.

He’s not a cheater. Doesn’t want to be called that. You just became an exception. What was going to be a mistake turned into the best thing to ever happen to him.

He’s not a cheater, he swears.

He leans back on the couch, jaw ticking as he keeps his eyes on the TV. He’s not watching it, couldn’t even tell you what’s playing, honestly. He just can’t stand to look at you right now. Not when you think he’s some dirty cheater.

He squeezes your hand to ground himself. So soft and small compared to his. Dainty and pretty, he’s always loved your hands. He swears they fit perfectly in his, as cliche as it is, like puzzle pieces.

Two wildly fucked up puzzle pieces that were from two completely different puzzles but somehow managed to fit more perfectly than any of the pieces that were supposed to fit did.

“No… you were my first when it came to cheating. Gonna be my last too. I’m not a cheater.”

What a contradictory thing to say. He knows it, too. He knows how ridiculous he fucking sounds. But he swears he isn’t a cheater. That’s not him. You’re not his mistress…

Just his fucking soulmate. Nothing too heavy. Fuck.

He sighs, scrunches his face a bit before letting his head fall back onto the couch. Still can’t look at you, so he fixes his eyes on the ceiling instead.

“Before we met, me and my wife… our marriage got complicated. I started noticing things I didn’t notice before, and she… changed. Wasn’t acting like the girl I used to love, but like a stranger. It was like as soon as she got comfortable in our marriage, she switched up… became the complete opposite of who I thought she was once we both graduated college.”

He wavers momentarily because he’s terrified you’ll think he’s making excuses. He’s not. He just doesn’t know how to fucking admit this shit. Has never talked about it with anyone. Has never admitted how utterly fucked his marriage is.

He doesn’t want you to see him as less of a man like his wife does. He’s fucking terrified that your last impressions of him will be similar to his wife’s ongoing dislike for him.

“We kept arguing, kept having issues… and she grew distant. I was having some issues, uh… getting it up. And when I tried talking to her about it, she just checked out it seemed. As if my dick malfunctioning made me unloveable or something…”

He scoffs at that, shakes his head. To this day it makes him feel like shit. Makes him feel unworthy of being called a man, her man. Makes him feel gross and broken. As if maybe instead of a flower, he’s a weed. A pesky weed she can’t seem to get rid of.

“There were other things of course, but that’s when she really pulled away. Wouldn’t look at me, or touch me… wouldn’t even give me a fucking hug. So it drove me kind of crazy, made me start doing stupid shit. Was a bad time.”

This is when he finally chooses to look at you. As much as he can’t bear it, he is itching to see if you’re looking at him with disgust yet. Has he become a weed for you, too? Fuck, is that all he ever was for anyone? Was he ever even a flower?

As he looks at you, he doesn’t see disgust. Doesn’t see anything, really. Which is almost worse because that means your walls are up. You’re building a fence as he speaks, as he shares his dirt-covered secrets with you. You’re protecting your wilted flower. He can’t blame you, but god, he fucking hates it.

“So I went to the club that night I met you, didn’t know what I was looking for. Just wanted to get some sort of rush, or attention… honestly was gonna flirt around but I never planned on actually cheating. I just wanted to feel… fuck, wanted, I guess… it was my fucked up way of proving to myself that I wasn’t unloveable. Pathetic, I know.”

He’s right about one thing: you are putting walls up. But not for the reasons he assumes… it’s because it breaks your heart to hear this shit. He keeps his eyes downturned as he speaks, and you see something in them that you’ve never seen before. They aren’t shiny and glittery and full of stars like they are usually; they’re full of shadows. Self-loathing. Resentment. Sadness.

He hates himself, you realize. It’s something you never noticed until now. Because when he’s with you, he doesn’t look like that. His eyes glitter the most. Full of hearts and stars and flowers, like in those cartoons.

It’s because when he’s with you, he doesn’t feel that way. He doesn’t doubt himself. He doesn’t hate himself. He feels full and loved and wanted.

When he’s at home, when he so as much thinks of his wife, he feels the opposite. He feels like fucking dirt. Like weeds.

So easy to forget about when he’s with you.

He debates on how much detail to go into about that night, about why he was so tempted by you. Should he tell you he got butterflies? That you stroked his ego in a way no one else has? That he thought for the first time ever, maybe his wife wasn’t the most pretty girl in the world, maybe it was you?

That he wanted to fuck your brains out but kiss you stupid afterward?

He doesn’t know. He wants to tell you these things because he wants you to know how loved you are. He doesn’t want to end this with you feeling guilty and undeserving because of what you’ve both done. He wants you to know that no matter how misplaced it may seem, you are the most lovable person he has ever met.

So fucking easy to love.

He clears his throat, tries to prevent himself from getting choked up. Squeezes your hand again for comfort, just because he can.

“Obviously I did cheat that night, with you. You were just so… fuck, so pretty. So cute. Was hard not to want you, especially with how you reacted when you noticed me staring… it doesn’t make it right, but I really didn’t plan to pursue you long term. Just wanted one night with you, wanted to feel wanted. Wanted to be touched and loved on so fucking badly, god…”

The glitter in his eyes returns.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you I was married. And I know I was so wrong for that. I should’ve told you, shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess. But I didn’t see the need to because I swear it was only supposed to be for a night, Y/N. I swear. Wasn’t even going to stay after we had sex. Was gonna go back to my wife and beg for forgiveness…”

The glitter turns into stars.

“But the way you touched me… the way you looked at me… the way you talked my damn ear off when we were done… I was so fucked for you. Probably sounds crazy, but it was bad enough that the sex was so good, that you were so damn beautiful it physically hurt me… what made me act stupid and ask for your number and stay the night was how sweet you were. How you really did make me feel wanted, you spoke to me like I was precious or some shit and all I did was fuck you.”

Because he is precious. If you grab a dictionary right now and look up the word precious, you are absolutely certain Jeon Jungkook will be the definition.

So fucking precious.

No longer stars, but hearts and moons and planets fill his eyes. The warm lights in your apartment reflect beautifully, making it so prominent, making the things you refuse to acknowledge too obvious.

He’s looking at you now. So adoringly. So hopelessly. And you see it again; you see exactly what you have refused to acknowledge every time he looks at you: he is so fucking in love with you, maybe even more than you are him.

Clear as day. Something you can’t possibly ignore or even deny in this moment. A Bearded Iris at full bloom, gifted with strength, love, care, hope, and admiration dedicated to you. The tips of his petals are adorned in a rich lavender color, and he swears that the color was stolen directly from your Aster. Speckles of you all over the Iris.

All because of you. Always you. Only you.

Much like your Aster, the flower rumored to have grown to resemble stars when there simply weren’t enough in the sky, his eyes glittered with those little stars, also only ever because of you.

His flower. His star. His love. His fucking soul. That’s what you are; that’s what you have been. Mistress by technicality, but god, you were never that to him.

You were everything. You are everything.

Seeing it, really seeing it, it changes everything for you.

But it still isn’t enough of an excuse to let this go on.

“So in short my marriage is fucked. Has been fucked for a while, way before you. I didn’t go out that night with the intent to cheat, but I did, because I’m a selfish bastard. And I kept it going with you because I’m a selfish bastard. Im so fucking selfish for you, Y/N. There is no excuse. But I don’t regret it. Don’t care if I go to hell, or if karma bites me in the ass someday. I would do it over and over and over again because I grew to love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in my entire life, including my wife.”

And he did. He means that with his entire being. He grew to love you quickly, he grew because he loved you, he grew because you loved him.

You say nothing at first because it’s a lot to take in. He was honest, didn’t sugarcoat anything, and admitted to being selfish. Both of you are so selfish for each other, yet selfless when with each other. It’s all so fucked.

He’s being vulnerable, and you know that he is. He’s looking at you now, biting at his lip ring again. He’s terrified that you won’t like what he said, what he admitted. He’s overthinking heavily because if this is your last night together, he doesn’t want to leave with you thinking he’s an awful man. He’s not. He swears he’s not. He doesn’t want you to see him through the same glasses his wife does.

He swears to god that he will get on his knees again and beg for your forgiveness. He’s not above blubbering and begging again until you forgive him one last time.

But you don’t think any of that. God, you could never. You’re silent because you see him. You really see him. You see all of the things that you were in denial about before. The love, the trust, the adoration, the soul-crushing dedication that he has for you. You aren’t wearing any glasses… Not the rose-colored glasses you had on at first, not the smudged dirty glasses his wife wears, not the funhouse glasses that he wears when looking in a mirror, nothing. You just see him. Eyes clear, and nothing obstructing your vision.

Even with all of that, he’s still a coward. He’s still choosing to end this rather than leave his wife, who you hate even more now knowing what you know. But unlike before, you understand. You may not understand fully, but you don’t fault him.

This wasn’t him being selfish because lust was clouding his judgment. This was him being selfish because he truly did love you. Love makes people selfish. You’d be a hypocrite to fault him for that when your love for him has made you oh so selfish too.

And while all of this has given you the ability to breathe, given you some sort of closure you didn’t really realize you needed… it’s not enough to keep this going.

It can’t go on.

You could keep prying. You could ask more questions. You could dig through his dirt and find unnecessary answers about his wife. Feed your growing curiosity.

Or this can be enough. This can be the closure and the answers you need to move on… and maybe you can enjoy this last night together.

Just one more night.

Instead of feeding your growing curiosity, you can feed each others flower with your shared soil before you’re both uprooted and taken far away from each other.

“Y/N, please say something, I feel like I’m about to puke.”

You blink up at him, realize it’s been a few minutes since he last said anything. You were silent for an awkward amount of time, and his mind is reeling, full of anxiety because he has no fucking clue what you could possibly be thinking.

You give him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, squeeze his hand again before speaking.

“Sorry, I was just… thinking. Zoned out.”

He bites his lip ring hard because, again, he has no idea what you’re thinking. Are you disgusted? Do you think he’s less of a man? Do you hate him now? Is his flower no longer as beautiful as you once thought now that you see all the creepy crawlers underneath his soil?

“Thinking about what?”

He tries not to sound too eager to know, even though he’s very fucking eager. He feels like his entire body is itching because of the anticipation; the not knowing kills him, too. Usually, he’s so good at reading you, your facial expressions, your eyes in particular, he swears he can read you by those alone. But he has no idea what is going through your head right now.

In reality, he’s just overthinking. He feels guilty. Guilty for how things have turned out and guilty for hurting you. The guilt makes the cogs in his brain move way too fast and causes him to be unable to process the shit he usually could.

You know this; you can easily tell by how he’s playing with the hem of his shirt and biting his lip. Also, the fact that he refused to look at you before but now literally will barely blink because his eyes are so intently on you, cataloging every tiny expression you make.

You hate how unsure he is now that he spoke the truth, as if all of this causes your love for him to wither away. It doesn’t. Not at all.

“Thinking about how that’s all I need regarding closure… would rather not talk about it anymore. Would rather just enjoy our last night as lovers together… if you want, of course.”

Now he’s the silent one… because, fuck, really? That’s it? You aren’t going to go in on him for being a scumbag cheater? You aren’t going to ask a billion questions about his wife? You aren’t going to take your weed-eater and cut him out like the weed that he suddenly is?

That’s it?

He stares at you, blinking a few times, as if maybe the more he blinks, the less delusional he’ll be. But your face says the exact same thing his did. You love him. You love him so goddamn much. He isn’t a weed; when he looks into your eyes at this very moment, he sees his reflection… and it’s the Bearded Iris. It’s him.

He’s your flower, just as you are his. You don’t hate him, you don’t even resent him… you just love him for what he is.

This makes it so bittersweet for him because for the first time in a while, he doesn’t feel totally worthless or unloveable. If you can love him, if you can see him at full bloom, then surely he isn’t broken and unworthy of love. It’s so sweet.

Bitter because he can also see the finality in your eyes. The love never disappears, but the goodbyes are silently written in your eyes. You’re stern in your decision. Jungkook is good at being delusional sometimes, but in cases like this, it’s impossible…

He knows it has to end. If you want it to end, he won’t fight. He doesn’t want to make you wilt anymore than he already has.

He just wants you to bloom. Even if it isn’t for him, he just wants you to heal, grow, and bloom all over again.

You can’t do that when he is weighing you down, tugging on your roots beneath the soil.

So he nods. Rubs at his eyes for a moment because he feels like he could cry, but he doesn’t want to cry. Doesn’t want your last night together to be full of sadness, just wants to savor it.

Feels like the last day on earth, almost. A similar feeling you get when watching those zombie apocalypse movies, and you see people and their loved ones spend their final days together before turning into zombies.

Maybe a bit dramatic, but there’s some truth to that… he knows once he loses you, he will become a zombie.

He brings your hand that’s still in his to his lips, and he places the softest kiss there while looking at you through his lashes.

“I’d like that. So much.”

You give him another sad smile. You feel the same, as if this is the end of the fucking world and this is your last night together.

You almost wish it was because then you could die together. You wouldn’t have to live with grieving each other when you’re both very much alive.

You wouldn’t have to watch his flower be torn out of the ground and carried away. You wouldn’t have to wilt anymore.

Dramatic. So fucking dramatic. But god, love feels dramatic. Especially love like this.

Next Chapter Here

#bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #18+ only #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts smut #jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #i love jungkook

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inlovewithgreta · 20 days

Text

Quiet Hours — Maude x Fem!Reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

a/n: yes, this is for you @celasteria. for anybody wondering, this is a pam character from the show fucking adelaide, definitely give it a watch!

Summary: You’re too lonely so you sneak your way into Maude’s room.

Warnings: fingering (r!receiving), age gap, that’s about it I believe.

Word Count: 1.1k

Taglist: @shslbunnylover

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You peeked your head out the door from the room you were supposedly 'sleeping' in, and scanned the hallway for any movement. And thank god there was nobody there. Your bare footsteps made a few cracks in the old wooden flooring creak as you hastily made your way to the room you truly wanted to sleep in.

Part of you was gutted by the fact that you and Maude had to hide your relationship, her telling her children, who were not that much younger than you, that you were just a friend.

But you were much, much, more than that. And you knew that, but you also knew that Maude wasn't ready just yet to reveal the actual truth that the two of you have been seeing each other, as the older woman was afraid of what her offspring would think of her.

She was once married to a man, and now here she is, dating a woman. A woman who treated her like no other. Like she was a goddess. A treasure to be cherished. And that's exactly what she was to you. Someone you never wanted to let go.

Your mind raced as you failed to knock on your lover's door, letting yourself in without a moment of hesitation as to avoid being seen by wandering eyes.

"Darling, what are you doing? Shut the door!" Maude whisper yelled, her head tilting, and her eyes flicking over your shoulder to make sure nobody sees you.

You shut the door and turned the lock with a quiet 'click', Maude instantly taking in your barely covered and well more petite figure. "I missed you..." you stated truthfully, letting your bottom lip fall in a faux pout that only made the woman lightly laugh.

"Honey, it's only been an hour," she removed the covers from her body, revealing her satin gown, and gestured towards her lap with that adorable smile that you loved oh so much.

There was no hesitation to swing your leg over her body to straddle the woman, your own thin nightgown hiking up past your upper thigh. The view Maude had from her angle definitely made the older woman hold back a growl.

"Well I can't help it," you tucked a stray gray hair behind her ear as her hands fell to the curve of your hips. "I always miss seeing your beautiful face with those delicious chocolate eyes looking at me. And the way you constantly have some kind of finger on me, always keeping me close to you. Keeping me warm."

"Is that so?" She questioned, a familiar glint sparkling in her eye as her fingers slid down to your upper thigh, only to let her digits roam past the hem of your gown. "On... or in you?" Maude asked, letting a wandering hand cup your heated center.

"I think we both know the answer to that," you chuckled, wetting your lips with your tongue before capturing Maude in a tender kiss. You meant for it to be a short, sweet kiss, but Maude had just felt how wet you were. And when you went to pull away, her teeth clenched to your bottom lip, forcing you to stay.

Her tongue was welcomed into your mouth, your gasp from her fingers moving your panties to the side to glide along your folds was muffled. She gathered your slick from your entrance to your clit, slowly giving your bud some much needed attention.

"So, which one is it?" She asked between sloppy kisses. "On or in? Let me hear you say it, pretty girl." Her free hand left your hip to cup your breast, sliding her thumb across your nipple, and smiling at the fact that you weren't wearing a bra.

"In," you admitted, Maude's fingers now sliding back to toy at your entrance. "Definitely in— please—" Maude didn't even give you the chance to beg, as she sunk two digits deep into your core.

Your hand flew up to cover your mouth that was now freely moaning at her ministrations, while the other held onto her shoulder for support, moving the black and gray strands behind her back to avoid pulling her hair.

As filthy as this moment is, Maude was always taken back at how sweet, and tender you were with her. You could easily be rougher with the woman, make the sex dirtier, but you always chose not to. Instead, allowing yourself to be gentle with the older woman, knowing how bad her past was with her ex.

It was actions like this that made her fall for you even harder than she thought she ever would. She never thought she'd find someone as sweet and caring as you. Who treated her with the utmost love and affection. And she relished every moment she spent with you.

You made her realize her worth.

Maude's hand left your breast, to uncover your mouth, allowing a few of your moans to escape before she took hold of your chin and brought your face back to hers. She needed your lips back on hers. Needing to be as close to you as possible.

And it didn't take long for you to clench against her digits, whining into the kiss as you came, and Maude being oh so careful to not overstimulate you.

"Mmm..." you hummed contently, leaning your forehead against hers with your eyes closed, and cupping her face ever so gently with your hands. "I love you, Maude."

"I love you too, my sweet girl. More than words can even describe." She stroked your cheek with her thumb, while also easing her digits out of you. "Now let's get you cleaned up, and you can sleep in here with me tonight, hmm?"

You leaned back, eyebrows knitted in worry, "But, what about—" A soft finger to your lips cuts you off. "I'm telling them about us in the morning." Maude said, with a sweet smile and a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"You are?" You asked, your face immediately lighting up.

"Yes," she chuckled. "I am. They deserve to know how happy you make me," Maude admitted. "Darling, this is the happiest and most loved I've ever been. I want everyone to know that it's you who is making me feel this way. I don't care what they'll think anymore, I'm doing this for me.... For us." She finished her statement with a loving kiss to the tip of your nose.

You couldn't help but melt at her words. Arms wrapping around her neck as you gazed happily into her brown eyes that looked back at you with both love and admiration.

For once in your life, you were truly happy. And you couldn't wait to see what the future had in store for not only you, but your blossoming relationship with Maude.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

general masterlist | taglist

#pamela rabe #maude #fucking adelaide #fanfic #smut #lesbiansmut #wlw smut #oneshot #i love this character so much

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