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#i am literally not comparing anything that either of them are doing either i am acknowledging the shitty way this fandom moves

rpfisfine · 21 hours

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literally the maddest ive ever been in my entire life i just got bullied on the bus by these 5 loud as fuck cocky teenage cunts who kept opening the window right above my fucking head and spraying passing cars with a water bottle no matter how many times i slammed it shut and told them to stop and then when i finally turned around and said could you please stop i'm literally just trying to get home in peace this one fucking loser asked "ummmm why" so i was like "because it's annoying and everybody would tell you the same thing" and he was like "well if you don't like it you can always leave, there's the door" and i was so genuinely shell-shocked and speechless at the audacity plus i already have a stutter and always get so unbelievably angry during these kinds of interactions that it's literally like life-threatening to me almost so i couldn't even comprehend what he had just said to me but i did manage to humiliate him by being like "how old are you?" (no answer) "how old are you?" (no answer) "fifteen?" and he literally was too visibly embarrassed to say anything and wouldn't give me any other number he just made fun of how "adult" i was but in my stressed out fucking state i kind of forgot to tell him that i literally am an adult bc i didn't want to just compare ages like some kind of cringe idiot so they might live with the assumption that i was either the same age as them or ever so slightly older than them for the rest of their lives bc i do look 16 at most irl which i'm trying to come to terms with currently but anyway i literally just kept my focus on this one asshole right behind me and confronted him in genuinely the most firm but polite manner i could and then immediately as soon as i turn back around the guy sitting next to him goes "uhhhhhh i couldn't understand One single word she said so it's time to continue boys 🤪" and then they started laughing at me + screaming 10 times louder than before + blowing raspberries at me like fucking 3 year olds so i waited for the next stop then got up and sat beside someone else even though i was so happy to get a window seat for the first time in legitimate months and im still so unimaginably fucking angry abt the whole thing i know it doesn't seem like that big of a deal but when ppl make fun of the way i speak or mock me or say they can't understand me it literally makes me want to claw their eyes out and on top of everything else that had happened during the interaction it was just slightly too much for me to handle i didn't want to stoop to their level by cursing them out or being legitimately mean even though they deserved it but i regret not telling them to die as i was walking past them i hope a horrible horrible future awaits their loser hypebeast bully friendgroup i hope they never get girlfriends or accepted into college and i hope someone with less patience than me beats them up for their behavior one day

#this sounds extreme but i speak from experience when i say that nothing in the world is more pathetic or evil to me than teenage boys #mp

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carakook · 2 months

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Bloom. °˖✧✿✧˖°

“I said, don’t. Just shut the fuck up and let me have this. Just one more time, please…”

→ Chapters list ←

⚘4. Spring Is Gone

🔞For Mature Audiences Only🔞

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

⚘Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader

⚘Synopsis: After being granted with “closure”, you try to enjoy your last night with Jungkook. It’s an emotional and fucking steamy mess.

⚘Genre:Forbidden love

⚘Word count: 13K+ 🥴

⚘Warnings: 18+ for mature audiences only, MDNI, emotional, mentions of cheating, active cheating, HEAVY smut, mouth spitting, wine kissing (idk if it’s actually called this but it’s what I have always called it LMAO), crying during sex, emotional sex, EMOTIONAL EVERYTHING YOU WILL CRY I AM WARNING YOU, grief, breaking up (sort of?), panic/anxiety attacks, alcohol, stealing (lol it’s kinda cute you’ll see,) making love (different from fucking), sort of rough, unprotected sex (always be careful, Y/N is on BC!), SAD JUNGKOOK I REPEAT SAD JUNGKOOK!!!! let me know if I miss anything there is a lot in this chapter.

⚘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: The long awaited chapter. This is a long one. I cried. A lot. Holy shit? It’s actually so sad lol but also has some good smut. This isn’t the last chapter, as I said before this is a full on fanfic, I also have it on Wattpad but it gets barely any reads so if you are interested in that let me know. After this chapter, things get very… drama filled? Idk a good word for it lol. I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry in advance if you cry. I highly recommend listening to the songs, each of them have a place in every chapter which is why I list them lol. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy. Love you.❤️

╚══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╝

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ :

♪Merry Go - DPR Ian

♪Gimmie Love - Joji

♪The Astronaut - JIN

♪Dope Lovers - DPR Ian

♪sex money feelings die - Lykke Lie

♪Angel - The Weeknd

♪Nerves - DPR Ian

♪505 - Arctic Monkeys

♪I Love You So - The Walters

♪Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex

♪Cry - Cigarettes After Sex

✧━。゜✿ฺ✿ฺ゜。━✧

Since you both agreed on enough of the heavy shit, you spend time together. The mood is heavy for some time, almost awkward, which is why you break out the several bottles of wine you bought this week in an attempt to cope with the end of you and your flower. You’d much rather drink it with him anyway.

You can always buy more.

The wine helps. After you’ve both had a glass, it feels less strained. You continue eating pizza and watching whatever sappy drama is on TV. He picks up on his rant, starts explaining how sex is definitely comparable to pizza; sex creates life, and without sex, we wouldn’t have discovered pizza. Makes total sense. It’s stupid, but he has a point—a very Jungkook thing to think up.

By the time you’re both three glasses deep, you’re a bit wine-drunk. He holds his liquor much better than you do, but you can tell he’s feeling all fuzzy inside. You check your phone as he sits sprawled out on your couch, taking up almost the entire damn thing with his bulky ass. It’s nearly 11:30 pm… around the time he should probably go home.

You glance at him, debating whether to subtly kick him out or not. You don’t want to, god no. It literally makes you sick thinking about it. But you shouldn’t let him stay either, should you? You’re supposed to end this. This was the last night.

But you see how content he looks—like a big, overgrown spoiled dog with a belly full of treats, relaxing next to his favorite person.

You did say one last night… technically the night isn’t over. And he shouldn’t drive in this state, really, if anything, it’s just for his safety…

So you nudge his leg with your foot, and he turns his head lazily towards you, arches a brow, “Hm?”

“Sleep over?”

Oh, he fucking grins. His dimples on show, his eyes crinkling up adorably, and his big bunny like teeth saying hi.

Because what you don’t realize is he wasn’t going to leave. Fuck no. You said one last night, and he was going to milk that for everything it was. No way in hell was he going to go home tonight. If he’s being frank, that’s why he drank three glasses of wine. He didn’t need it. But he knew he could use it as a loophole to staying the night. You wouldn’t let him drive drunk.

He knows damn well what he’s doing, and he’s elated that you offered to let him stay. It means you want him here.

Even after all the bullshit, you still want him here. You want to prolong it, too.

“Hell yeah.”

He winks and then leans up a bit to stretch, causing his shirt to lift and give you the most indulgent peak of his stomach. You shamelessly stare, and he absolutely notices, lifting his arms a bit higher just to give you a better look.

He loves it when you look at him like that.

But then he stands up, casually grabs his car keys from the coffee table, as if he isn’t fucking teasing you.

Fuck. The wine is definitely kicking in. The warm fuzzies in your tummy are spreading elsewhere.

“Gonna go grab some stuff from my car then, make sure it’s locked, I’ll be right back.”

You hum in response and lean back into the couch. Watch him as he walks out the door, and find comfort in the fact that you know he’s coming back… even if it’s the last time.

Jungkook is doing his best not to let his mind wander to the more damning thoughts as he walks out of your complex and into the parking lot. Because he feels the opposite, no comfort at all. His anxiety is spiked now that you’re out of sight. What if you don’t let him in when he makes his way back to you? What if you change your mind about the sleepover? What if you decide you hate him?

Not only that, but he feels like he’s wasting precious time. As if the five minutes he will be away from you (barely) are irreplaceable and he’s just wasting them. It’s literally the end of the world… he shouldn’t be wasting time.

But that’s just his anxiety speaking. In truth, he doesn’t actually need the things in his car… but he packed a few things before showing up unannounced—things he wanted to leave you with.

Such as the little Polaroid camera you bought for him months ago, one that you yourself have used every single time you’re together. You always snap little candid pictures of him, sometimes yourself. He finds your fascination with the thing so fucking cute. He uses it, too, of course. He often takes pictures of you without you even knowing it… and you’ve both definitely taken some more raunchy pictures, pictures that he keeps hidden away in a box for when he misses your touch. For his eyes only. They’re priceless to him, probably some of his most prized possessions.

Speaking of those photos, he also packed a box full of them just for you. Pictures you’ve taken of him, of both of you, of anything and everything. He wants you to have them, wants you to be able to look at them when you miss him a little too much. He went through the photos over the last few days of no contact, greedily picked out his favorites, and put them into his own box for the same purpose. But he picked a generous amount out for you, too.

And as corny as it may sound, he packed a few pieces of his clothing. He knows how much you love stealing his shit, especially his shirts. Several are still missing, but he won’t ask for them back. He’Ll gift you with more, made sure to spray his cologne on them too, so that you can smell him on them. He packed his favorite shirt, hoodie, and something he will reluctantly, but willingly, part with. His denim jacket.

All of them are Calvin Klein branded. The shirt is basic, just a black shirt that’s fitted on him but swallows you whole. It’s the one you often steal when you sleep over at his second apartment, but he never let you take it home because it was his favorite. It’s worn in and soft, that’s why he likes it. But it’s yours now, just like him.

The hoodie is the same, basic black, one that you always tried to steal but never succeeded in doing so. It’ll be like a warm hug when you miss him, he thinks. You’ll love it more than he will. You’ll need it more than him on nights that you feel lonely.

The jean jacket isn’t anything special in appearance. It’s dark denim but is lined in that soft wool that keeps you warm and cozy. He wore it often in the cold months, thought it made him look handsome, but also kept him comfy. He’d rather you have it. He wants to keep you warm forever, hold you in his arms and never let go, make sure you never feel cold again… but he can’t exactly do that. So instead, he’ll give you his jacket.

The last thing is one of his chains. God, he knows you love those damn chains. He almost always wears one, silver or gold, depending on the day. And you always make sure to tell him how much you like them. He never really understood it; it’s something so simple. But you swooned for it. After you guys fuck, you’re always touching it, playing with it. Even when you guys aren’t fucking, you seem to have the impulse to touch it. Maybe it’s a girl thing, he doesn’t know. But he’s giving you one since you liked it so much.

Definitely a girl thing.

He also brought the bottle of perfume you dropped on his floor that night you stormed off… he was going to give it back. Return it to its rightful owner. But as he’s grabbing the bag full of goods out of his car… he impulsively takes it out. Wants to keep it. Wants to be able to smell you, too. He’s sure you won’t miss it.

You won’t miss that perfume as much as he’s going to miss you.

He quickly grabs the bag of stuff, nearly dropping it as he grows more restless because he’s not with you right now. You’re too far away, and every single second counts tonight.

So he rushes back into your complex building, nearly full-on sprinting back to your door.

As he lets himself back in, you’re in the exact same position. Sitting comfy on the couch, eyes on the TV, your wine glass a bit more empty now. Thank fuck.

He wasn’t even gone for more than four minutes. And yes, you did notice, you didn’t like it. But you knew he’d come back. So you waited. Wasn’t a big deal.

He’s just dramatic, for good reason of course. You can see the unease written all over his face as he pads his way back towards you, sets the bag next to your couch. He doesn’t disclose what’s in it and you don’t ask, you just assume it’s the bag he usually keeps in his car for impromptu nights like this.

He doesn’t want to present these little gifts to you yet… because he feels like that’s what’s going to really finalize it. So he’ll wait a little longer.

Would put it off forever if he could.

He takes a seat next to you, obnoxiously close. Your couch isn’t big, but there’s enough for two people to have a comfortable distance from each other. He doesn’t care. He wants to make sure he’s touching you in some way, so he nearly squishes you as he sits down as casually as ever and slings one of his arms on the back of your couch so that his fingertips rest on your shoulder.

He has an almost jittery energy about him right now. Obviously, emotions are heavy; it’s your last night together. It’s kind of hard to act totally ok and normal when you’re both well aware that this is the last night. But even then, somethings a bit off.

You study him for a moment, notice how he’s running his teeth over his lip ring again, how his leg is bouncing up and down a bit even as he tries to mimic a relaxed position on the couch. Maybe he’s anxious?

He is. However, that’s not what this is all about. He wants to kiss and touch you so badly it hurts. But now he’s unsure if he’s allowed. He doesn’t know what’s on and off limits tonight, and he doesn’t want to jeopardize your time together by fucking it up and making unwanted advances.

Overthinking. He wishes he didn’t do that. But he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until after things are said and done, doesn’t know how to stop it.

You assume maybe it’s just nervous energy thanks to the impending sense of doom you both feel. You feel similarly… but you hide it better.

More wine would help, you think.

So you lean forward and grab the bottle which is half empty, this is the second bottle of tonight. You top off each of your glasses as Jungkook watches, and you take a sip.

His eyes stay glued to your lips. He loves your lips. Loves all of you, but especially your lips. He thinks that will be one of the things he misses the most. How soft and pillowy they are, how they’re a bit rosey in color, how they taste, how they pout out a bit when you drink wine, how wine stains your lips so prettily, how they feel wrapped around his—

Yeah. Fuck it. One last night.

“Gimmie some.”

You glance at him and arch a brow, wonder if he’s referring to the wine… or maybe pizza? You literally just topped his wine glass off. He’s being weird.

“I just topped you off?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, I want yours.”

You scoff at him because now he’s just being childish. But he’s looking at you so expectantly, almost stubbornly, as if he’s asking for something more than the wine he’s demanding.

And he is. He doesn’t even really know what though. He’s being greedy, wants your wine because your lips touched the glass, because remnants of your spit might have melted into the wine after taking sips. He doesn’t want his own damn wine.

He wants to be greedy tonight. It’s not like he has anything to lose, he’s already lost it all.

So he reaches over and takes the wine glass from you, gets a bit impatient when he sees you aren’t gonna give it to him right away. He takes a slow sip, places his lips in the same exact spot yours have been every time you’ve taken a drink. It’s ridiculous, really… but he swears he tastes the faintest essence of you on the glass. Closes his eyes, swishes the wine around in his mouth, trying to see if he can taste more of you…

Ok, so, he’s definitely being a bit ridiculous. But fuck, he already feels like he’s going crazy. Can’t really help himself when he is desperately craving any little crumb of you.

You don’t know what to make of this. Part of you is amused, part of you is irritated, because he just stole your damn wine. But you also know there must be more to it, there has to be.

He cracks an eye open, sees you staring at him like he’s crazy, because he kinda is. Only for you, of course. He just swallows the wine and shrugs innocently.

“Yours is better, mine tastes weird.”

You roll your eyes at him because he has the same wine as you do. You can’t figure out what his game is here. So you reach over and take his wine and say, “Yours is literally the same as mine.”

To prove a point you take a sip of his. Just as expected, tastes the exact same as yours. He watches you carefully… gets an idea. An incredibly impulsive,almost intrusive idea.

But again… it’s the last night. And he’s greedy.

You huff at him and point his wine glass (which is now yours apparently) at him as you watch him take a huge gulp out of your glass again.

“Yeah, see, tastes the exact-“

He abruptly grabs the nape of your neck and cups your jaw with his free hand, his thumb coming to rest on your bottom lip and lowering it. He places his lips on yours, waits until your mouth instinctively opens just as it always does for him, and then funnels the wine into your mouth.

Fucking feeding you the wine like a baby bird.

It catches you by surprise at first, causing you to cough a bit and causing the wine to dribble down your chin, but you quickly gulp it down just like he gulps down the little gasp and cough you let out. He kisses you greedily, doesn’t even build up to it before he’s pushing his tongue into your mouth and swirling it against yours, tasting the heady mixture of wine and you. Fuck, you’re his favorite taste.

You don’t protest; of course you don’t. Was definitely a bit bizarre, but also… fuck, that was hot. Was a bit weird but in a super sexy way. You kiss him back, letting out little huffs of air into his mouth as one of your hands also finds the nape of his neck. The other hand automatically rests against his chest, clings to the fabric of his shirt tightly.

You both stay like this as long as possible. The kiss only grows more desperate and aggressive, teeth and tongue clashing beautifully together like thunder and rain. Your soft pants turn into eager breathes at some point, and he knows you need to breathe. But fuck, he wants to stay lip locked with you until he passes out.

This is when you start to second-guess things. Yes, this is the last night together… but knowing it’s ending makes the guilt a bit more prominent. This wouldn’t be ending if it wasn’t wrong, but it is wrong; sleeping with him again just seems so contradictory or maybe even hypocritical.

So you push at his chest lightly, a silent signal for him to slow down. God, he hates the way his stomach lurches. Can’t fathom the idea that you might kick him out right now. Please, god, don’t do this. I’m not a weed, I swear, I’m her fucking flower. I need her one more time, he silently prays even though he’s never been religious or prayed before.

When he pulls back with heavily lidded eyes, you speak up hesitantly, even though you don’t wanna stop, god not at all.

“Kook, we shouldn’t…”

That’s all you say. Because it’s really that simple. You shouldn’t be doing this; you should never have done it at all. But even then, you lack the ability to convince him. Because you want him, one last time. You’re just having a hard time willingly giving in again.

Jungkook knows you well. Knows your body language. He knows that if you truly wanted him to stop, you would’ve been more self assured when speaking. You wouldn’t sound like a meek little mouse, you’d be firm in telling him know. He can see the same thing in your eyes, it’s pure unadulterated want. But maybe you need reassurance, reassurance that one last time is ok, is needed.

You’ve both sinned so much already, one more time won’t change shit.

So his grasp on your jaw firms up a bit, he starts feeling a little too passionate about this. He coaxes your mouth open by smooshing your cheeks a bit before saying,

“Y/N, fucking don’t. Just let us have this, please.”

“But Kook-“

He grunts in frustration. Just as impulsively as he fed you wine kisses, he spits in your mouth. It makes you flinch, makes your pussy clench because fuck it’s so filthy but so hot. So intimate in a sort of fucked up way.

“I said, don’t. Just shut the fuck up and let me have this. Just one more time, please…”

He leans back down and starts kissing you again, licking into your mouth and adding more to the spit he put there moments ago. Doesn’t even give you a chance to protest. He kisses you like he’s going to die if he doesn’t. He’s sure he will. He’ll die a miserable death if he doesn’t love you one more time.

It's a bit harsh, but you know each other enough to know he isn’t trying to be forceful or rude; he’s just desperate. You are too, honestly. You know damn well if you said no and meant it, he would pull away and stop immediately. Your body has always been safest with him. You don’t want to stop, not really. You’re thankful he’s being like this. It’s the push you need to ignore the guilt for a while longer and share your body with him one last time.

When he feels that you’ve melted into him, with no more tension or hesitancy in your body, he pulls away, nipping at your lower lip once and then sucking on it. Then his lips travel down, and he licks the wine staining your chin off before placing sloppy kisses down your neck.

He doesn’t even ask before he starts sucking and licking on your sensitive skin. Not kitten licks, not gentle sucks, no, he’s full-on giving you hickeys, and you know it. You know it’s intentional when you feel him pull back a bit to take a peak, only to lean back in a second later and bite.

The hand on his nape fists into his hair, and your back arches a bit, causing your chest to push against his chest, “Fuck, Kook…”

You should tell him to stop marking you up like this. You don’t like showing up to work or visiting friends with visible hickeys because questions get asked. And as much as you wish you could admit who they’re from, you can’t. No one knows about Jungkook. No one even knows you’re seeing someone right now, and you don’t want to have to come up with some story to cover your ass.

It’s a secret for you too.

But it’s the last night together… and the idea of having his hickeys on your neck, just to remind you a little longer that this was real, he was real, it’s an idea you quite like. Fucking love, actually.

He grunts at you, bites down a little harder, “What? Told you your wine was better…”

You let out a little breathy laugh when he says this, because of course he would play it coy, as if he didn’t just randomly start devouring you. Of course he’d blame it on the damn wine.

That breathy laugh quickly turns into a moan when one of his hands finds your tit, he starts squeezing and groping it through your shirt shamelessly, tweaking your nipple in the way he knows you love. God, he loves your tits. They’re the perfect size for him, he swears. They fit into his palm perfectly, feel like pillows, just like your lips. All of you is just so soft.

He kisses his way down your neck now that it’s all marked up in pretty purple and pink bruises blossoming, much like you do every single time he touches you like this. When he gets to your chest, he looks up at you through his lashes, and then he nearly rips your shirt off of you when he pulls it down.

His eyes leave yours as he looks down at the beautiful pillows on your chest. He just admires them for a moment, as if he’s at an art gallery studying each piece of art. That’s what you are, art. Everything about you inside out is otherworldly beautiful to him, tits included.

At this point, you’re lying down on your couch, legs parted for him. It’s a bit awkward because of how small the couch is, but that doesn’t stop either of you. He doesn’t give a fuck that he barely fits. He’ll make himself fit… just like he’s made himself fit into your life for months.

He wants to fit into your life just one more time, one more night, wants to meld together and tangle your roots so that it’s impossible to untangle them. He knows it’s wishful thinking, but that’s where this is all coming from. He’s not being aggressive and eager and greedy just because he’s horny, no, he’s doing this because maybe, just maybe, if he shows you with his body how much he loves you… how much he needs you… you’ll change your mind one day.

His mouth descends on your left breast, and he starts licking and sucking on your nipple. Your eyes roll back, and your entire body shudders at the sensations, fuck, it always feels like the first time. Before him, men didn’t pay such close attention to your body. Never even had a guy play with your tits before, Jungkook was the first. It was so odd at first, but it quickly became one of your favorite things. Makes you get so wet so fast.

You love how he looks up at you when he does it, his eyes full of asters and stars alike, hearts and moons, lust mixed with love and it’s a dizzying sight. You wonder if this is how you look when you go down on him, if that’s why it unravels him so quickly. You’d understand if so, you wish so badly you could snap a picture of him like this and preserve it.

It’s funny because he’s thinking the same thing. How beautiful you look when he goes down on you, how your eyes mimic his own, and how you have a hard time controlling your facial expressions when the pleasure is too intense. His favorite thing is when you start furrowing your brows and almost pouting at him without realizing it; the little pants and mewls you let out without meaning to, it drives him absolutely insane.

He wants to capture it, too. Fuck, tonight is a night to remember, he wants everything solidified in film. Every single kiss and touch and whisper spoken tonight, he needs to preserve it.

He sucks on your nipple for a few more seconds, his other hand flicking the nipple on your right breast. Wants to get you all worked up for him. he then pulls back, letting go of your tit with a wet pop sound. Lets his hands rest on your thighs and rubs his palms up and down them as he takes you in.

You let out a little whine when he pulls away, but you don’t protest. His pupils dilate heavily as he looks down at you because, holy fuck, you’ve never let him mark you up like this. He doesn’t even like giving hickeys, thinks it’s a bit immature, something meant for college. But seeing you blooming pink and purple from your neck down to your pretty tits? It makes his cock twitch hard in his sweats.

He removes one hand from your thigh, and reaches down to palm himself through his sweats. He squeezes his cock as he takes in your already debauched look. Marked up, tits out, lips swollen, eyes heavy… fuck. You may be what kills him, not heart break.

One last squeeze to his cock to relieve a bit of the pressure, and he lets go of it. He knows you’re getting a bit impatient by how you’re shifting in your spot, but you know he wants to take his time tonight. So you don’t say anything, no matter how much you wanna beg for his dick or his mouth.

He leans over the couch to unzip the bag he brought, grabs the Polaroid, and then readjusts himself between your legs. He sets the camera down on your stomach and brings his hands back to where your thighs are spread prettily for him.

You arch a brow, and he gives you a little smile. He still looks a bit fucked, his eyes black with want and his cock literally tenting his sweats. The smile is much too sweet for what you’re both doing.

“Take as many pictures as you want, there’s a full roll of film in there. Can keep ‘em for when you miss me.”

Now is not the time to cry. Fuck.

You nod at him, grab the camera and keep it close. You wonder if he planned this or if it was a coincidence that it was in his bag. Regardless, you’re thankful. Elated even, that he’s going to let you capture this and preserve it for those nights you doubt he was ever even real. There's no time to be sad now; you can grieve him when he’s gone.

He flicks his tongue over his lip ring as he looks down at you again, there’s so much that he wants to do tonight, but he knows damn well the moment his cock so as much touches you, he’s going to lose control. He needs to lavish you with love and attention first before even thinking of himself.

He grabs the hem of your shirt, gently pulls it over your head. You lay pliant, let him take the lead and do whatever he wants. God, anything for him as long as he keeps looking at you like that, like you’re the reason he breathes.

Next he takes off the pajama shorts you had on, slowly fumbling with them because of the awkward position on the couch. It makes you giggle at him, which makes him giggle at you. Now that you’re both a bit calmed down, not quite as worked up, you realize maybe the couch isn’t the most practical place.

Even then, you take the Polaroid and snap a picture, capturing his bashful smile on camera as he tosses your shorts away. He doesn’t protest; he lets you. Watches as you take the photo it spits out and stare at it lovingly before setting it on the coffee table.

His hands are on your thighs again, and despite the fact you’re nearly butt naked now, his eyes stay steady on your face. He reaches forward, grabs the camera from you, and snaps his photo of you. He focuses the Polaroid specifically on your neck to capture the hickies he left, wants to remember you marked as his. He retrieves the photo after the camera spits it out. He doesn’t look at it yet; just tosses it inside of his bag next to the couch.

At your huff and shy little glare you send him, he chuckles, hands you back the camera, and before you can scold him, he lightly swats your thigh. Then he gets off the couch and picks you up bridal style.

It’s hard to be mad at him when he makes you feel like a princess. You don’t actually mind that he took the picture, as embarrassing as it feels. You know it’ll be for his eyes only.

He easily carries you into your bedroom, kicks the door open, and deposits you on your bed. Wasted no time before he’s taking off his shirt and sweats, and fuck, you swear he’s a Greek god. Perfect, in every way. You could drool every damn time you see any bit of his skin. His broad shoulders, his tiny waist, his subtle and toned thighs, it’s a lethal combination. Any woman who sees him like this surely could keel over at how beautiful he is, how sexy he is.

He gets on the bed with you, and you set the camera on the pillow next to your head. He settles between your thighs once more. He can feel himself starting to get impatient now that you’re both in only your underwear; his cock is still hard. Only getting harder as he stares down at you, looking at how pretty you look with your hard nipples glistening with his spit and your soft thighs spread just for him.

He descends, placing open-mouthed kisses on your tummy. Your hands come to rest in his hair as they’ve done many times because you know you’ll need to hang on. You know where this leads, and anytime he eats you out, it’s an out-of-body experience. The things this man’s mouth can do are unholy, but still feel like heaven.

His eyes stay on you as he kisses his way down to your thighs. He nips at them lightly, causing you to whine. He covers your lower half in kisses, not missing a single ounce of your skin as he lavishes your inner thighs with sweet little declarations of love that just aren’t enough.

You lift your hips ever so slightly, tug on his hair a bit, send him a silent message that says please fucking put your mouth on me before I explode.

He smirks against your skin, looks up at you as he trails his lips upward, “Just feel it, baby, let me love on you.”

You want to roll your eyes at this, but don’t say anything. Just try to regulate your breathing. You know he’s wanting to savor it, savor you. He has every right to.

But he knows what you need; can tell by the way you’re scratching his scalp that you’re itching to feel his mouth on you. And if he’s being honest, he’s growing a bit impatient, too.

So he finally trails his lips past your thighs, onto the mound of your cunt which is still covered by your panties. The moment he sees the wet spot seeping through, smells your arousal, his patience disappears. Suddenly, he’s fucking starving.

He doesn’t even take your panties off before he starts kissing your cunt, sucking on your clit through the fabric. The feeling makes your body nearly jolt, your hips bucking into his face as you tug on his hair and let out an incredibly strained moan. Fuck. So much for taking it slow and dragging it out.

He becomes a man possessed once he tastes you. He’s letting out grunts as he borderline makes out with your panties, suckling the fabric to get every drop of your essence off of them and onto his tongue. It’s genuinely filthy, debauched, but god, it’s hot.

He leans back with flared nostrils and glistening lips, looking like he’s wearing lipgloss. Made specially by you, of course. He nearly rips your panties off and throws them into the pile containing his clothes at the end of the bed.

A coincidence, he tells himself. He’s totally not planning on ‘accidentally’ taking them home with him… not at all.

He leans back down, grabs your thighs, and props them over his shoulders as he maneuvers himself to lay flat on his stomach on the bed, his knees keeping him steady as he presses his face into your pussy.

He inhales you, takes in your scent. So musky and pretty, so uniquely you. He wishes he could bottle it up and wear it as a fucking cologne. He rubs his nose around in it, nudging your clit back and forth, almost as if he’s motor-boating you but instead of your tits, it’s your cunt.

God, it’s lewd. But he can’t get enough.

You already feel yourself becoming a little too turned on but wanna capture this moment. Wanna preserve how fucked he looks when he does shit like this, only ever for you. So you grab the Polaroid with one shakey hand that leaves his hair, and you snap a quick photo. It comes out a bit blurry, but you don’t mind. You place the camera back on the pillow alongside the fresh photo and have to double down on gripping his hair because, holy fuck, this feels so good.

His tongue finds your entrance and starts licking inside, trying to get every last drop of your cream greedily into his mouth. He uses his nose to stimulate your clit, one of the perks of having a big nose. He’s grunting as he licks into your cunt, almost sounds feral doing so. He doesn't even recognize his own voice with the damn noises he's making.

As much as you don’t want to admit it, watching this all unfold has you dangerously close already. Your thighs are quivering on his shoulders, and your toes are curling along his back. The way he’s breathing into your pussy, sucking and licking and nudging it with his nose, fuck, it has you a mess. The noises you’re making you can’t control; you’re starting to sound just as feral as him.

“Mmmph… Koo… gonna cum soon, slow down…”

You babble at him. You wanna cum so bad, but you also don’t want it to stop so soon. If you had one wish at this very moment, it would be that he does this forever. He looks so lovely in between your thighs, licking and sucking you up as if it’s his last meal.

Because it is his last meal. After this night, he’s gonna be starving for eternity without you.

He huffs out a little laugh against your clit, the hot air causing your back to arch and fingers to tighten in his hair; if he doesn’t ease up, your thighs are surely going to crush his damn head.

“Cum then. Fucking give it to me, Y/N. Let me earn it.”

He nearly growls at you before he dives back in with renewed vigor. He replaces his tongue, which was deep in your cunt, with his fingers. He uses his mouth now to suck on your clit. As you look down at him, you’d swear he was kissing it, making out with it, making love with his fucking mouth. The added pressure of two of his long fingers crooking inside of you is quickly bringing you to your end.

But what nearly makes you cum on the spot is the way he starts fucking humping the bed. Acting like a virgin humping a pillow, he moves his hips back and forth on the mattress just for some sort of stimulation to his cock because it started getting so hard it was damn near painful.

He knows how desperate he looks but doesn’t care. Clearly, you enjoy it, judging by the way you start panting, and your pussy starts pulsating and tightening around his fingers. They fuck into you harder, rubbing up against the spongy flesh inside, all while he makes out with your clit.

His eyes open to meet yours, and you’re done for. Seeing that desperation and love in his eyes mixed with the fact he’s fucking humping your bed makes your pussy throb. You begin cumming hard, tugging on his hair as your thighs clasp around his head. He damn near whines into your cunt, the noise only causing vibrations to make it so much more intense for you.

“Nnngh oh shit! Fuck, oh fuck Koo… oh my god, shiiit…”

Your hips buck up into his mouth eagerly; you can’t even control it. Your feet planted on his back, toes curling, thighs trembling around his face, and your face scrunched up in pleasure. You see stars- no- you see an entire fucking galaxy as you cum all over his face. Full of stars, moons, planets, gardens, all of which are full of him and every single fiber of his being.

All for him, just as he is all for you.

He fucks you through it, does his best to prolong it, but he knows he’ll make you cum again on his cock. He is aching to be buried inside of you. He wants to make love to you, not fuck you, he wants to meld your bodies together and become one tonight.

After what feels like forever, your body relaxes, and the spasming of your clit dies down, causing it to become sensitive. He can tell by the way your legs shake and your body jolts when he applies too much pressure with his tongue.

He reluctantly pulls back, licking your juices off of his lips before placing little kisses all over your thighs and pelvis. He looks fucked, his nose and his lips are glistening obscenely in the dim lighting, and his eyes don’t look brown anymore but black.

When your eyes travel downward, you whine at him. His cock is nearly tearing through his underwear, which you now realize he’s wearing your fav, the purple CK’s. There’s a little stain where the head of his cock presses, so much precum, all for you.

He looks down where your eyes are trained, and he snorts at himself. Jesus fuck, he really is acting like a desperate teenager, isn’t he? But he can’t find himself giving a shit. He wants you to know how desperate and unhinged you make him. He can’t say he’s ever been so horny he borderline fucked a mattress, not until now. And it’s all because of you.

He takes off his underwear with shaky hands and tosses them somewhere in your room. Then he settles between your legs again, rubbing up and down your thighs as he takes you in as if it’s the first time.

Your hands come up to his chest, scraping your nails down it slowly, which earns you the most beautiful groan from his lips. He bites down on them, and his cock jumps upward, begging to be touched. So you trail your hands lower until you find his aching length and take it into your hand, start stroking him lazily.

His breathing becomes labored, and his eyes flutter shut. Even just your hand feels so fucking good. His hips jerk forward, seeking more stimulation. Fuck, he can’t get enough.

One of his hands remains on your thigh while the other reaches for the camera. He boldly angles it directly at your cunt, snaps a photo of it, making sure to capture the way your slick folds glisten in the light, along with all of the purple flowers blossoming on your thighs. His tattooed hand is barely in the shot but is visible enough to make it clear it is him in this photo.

He tosses the photo in the same pile his clothes and your panties lay next to the bed, and then angles the camera towards your face and body to take another. He thinks you’re so pretty like this. Cheeks flushed, lips puffy because you always bite them right before you cum, eyes bright with afterglow. You look like an Angel, especially in this moment.

He’s sure you’re an Angel sent from the God he doesn't even believe in.

He snaps another photo and tries to steady his shaky hands because the way you’re stroking his cock feels borderline painful. Too slow; he needs more. Beads of precum drip down his cock as if it’s crying. It may as well be crying for you.

He quickly takes the photo, tosses it in the same pile, and then does the same with the camera without thinking. Is getting way too worked up with how you’re stroking his dick and looking at him like a Greek god.

Because he is one. You’ll say it time and time again.

He leans over your body and settles in between your legs. You remove your hand and wrap your arms around his shoulders, burying your fingers in his hair again. He grinds his cock onto your pussy, coating it in the remnants of your cum and juices, and starts kissing you slowly.

The kiss isn’t like the one with wine; this one is sweet, loving, still desperate, but more patient. His lips work with you in unison, your puzzle pieces coming together once more. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it makes you moan into his mouth, which causes his cock to twitch against your pussy. God, he loves the sounds that you make. Music to his ears, he’d play it on repeat if he could.

He slowly drags the tip of his cock down to your entrance which is well prepared for him, and even more slowly starts thrusting inside of you. He wants to feel you deeply, feel every ripple and ridge of your pussy, every pulse and throb. He wants to catalog it and replay it over and over in his head for when he misses you.

Jungkook is definitely gifted when it comes to his manhood. It’s not too long, a good seven and a half inches, but fuck he’s so girthy. When you first fucked him, you could barely handle how thick he was. Nowadays, you can absolutely handle it, but that first push always gets you fucking squirming. The pressure and stretch are nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

You let out a stuttered gasp into his mouth when he buries himself to the hilt, his balls flush against your ass, and he stays there for a moment so that you can adjust. You break the kiss, wincing a bit as you turn your face to try and hide the way it scrunches up as it always does the first few moments he’s inside of you.

He doesn’t like that. Not at all.

He pulls his face back from yours and steadies himself on his elbow as one of his hands comes up to grip your jaw. He turns your face towards him, doesn’t let you look away or try to hide.

“Uh-uh, you look at me when I fuck you. I wanna see every single detail of your pretty face if this is the last time I get you like this.”

You whine at him, your eyes fluttering shut and cheeks warming. For some reason, that’s embarrassing, like being called out for talking in class or some shit. But even then, your pussy clenches around his cock, because you love it when he takes control like that, when he makes it clear what he wants.

He shakes your jaw a bit when he notices you closing your eyes, causing them to open instinctively. He looks just as fucked as you do, his nostrils are flared, and he’s sweating slightly, clearly holding back.

“Eyes on me, Y/N. Don’t you fucking dare look away. Look me in my eyes while I make love to you.”

Fuck. It takes every single bit of strength you possess not to cry. There he goes, voicing the fact that tonight isn’t going to be some hard fuck. It’s making love.

That terrifies you.

Making love is something entirely different compared to fucking. Some people disagree, but you don’t. Fucking is mindless, meant for pleasure and pleasure alone. Sometimes, there's intimacy after, but it’s mostly just sex. Making love, of course, comes with pleasure, but that’s not its purpose. Its purpose is to come together with your partner, show each other how much you love them, let all of your emotions run wild and free while sharing the most intimate parts of your body together.

Fucking is like buying a bouquet of roses. You get to see them, water them, keep them on display, but the joy dies quickly because the roses die, too.

Making love is like growing a garden of roses. You can’t make love until you grow that love with someone; nurture it, watch it morph and evolve. And then the flowers bloom. The love bursts, the petals are vibrant in colors made up of you and your partner.

Both are lovely. Everyone loves buying a bouquet of roses, but few get to experience growing their own.

You’ve never made love. Tonight will be the first time.

And it will probably be the last.

You nod at Jungkook stupidly, keeping your eyes on his just as he asked you to. Once he sees your eyes remaining on him, he starts slowly moving his hips. His cock slides in and out of you, your arousal can clearly be heard by the noises your cream coating his cock every time he slides in and out makes. It’s beautiful.

This is beautiful… and so goddamn tragic.

He’s also fighting tears. Because, unlike you, he has made love before… or thought he did. He swore on his wedding night he made love to his wife, but it was nothing like this. You’ve barely even started, and he can feel the stark difference. God, it makes him question fucking everything. He never felt this way with his wife, with anyone, only ever with you.

But now isn’t the time to think of such things, to dissect the fact that maybe what he had with his wife was never actually love, but comfort. Now is the time to share your love together, one last time.

He starts moving his hips a bit faster. His arms reach under your body and wrap around you, trying to get as close as humanly possible. He rests his forehead on yours, keeps his eyes on yours, too. He starts panting, is fighting back tears. He is trying so hard not to cry right now.

“I love you.”

Fuck.

You let out another stuttered breath, and then your breathing picks up entirely as you fight back tears. Your arms are wrapped around him now, nails digging into his back like you’re afraid he will float away. Because you are, you’re so scared that if you let go, he will disappear. You don’t want him to disappear.

He starts pounding a bit deeper, grunting with each deep thrust as he grits out again,

“I love you.”

Fuck he needs to stop.

“Jungkook— nngh… don’t…”

He shakes his head, his breathing heavier, and his thrusts bordering on aggressive now. That’s not abnormal for him; sex with you both is regularly rough. But this is so different. It isn’t the dominating kind of aggressive but desperate, full of passion and love and grief.

“No, Y/N, look at me. I love you. I fucking love you so much, Y/N. I love you.”

And you break.

Crying for you also isn’t abnormal during sex with him specifically. It’s always intense, so sometimes you cry. Not out of sadness or pain; it just happens sometimes. He came to learn that quickly.

But just like how he’s making love to you, these tears are different. You’re weeping for the loss of your lover, but also because you are still so full of love for him. You’re crying because for the first time since this mess started between you, you believe him when he says he loves you. Deep down in your core, in every single crack and crevice of your being, you feel his love for you.

You see it in his eyes as he looks at you, you feel it in the way he touches and kisses you, you hear it in the way he speaks to you when he says it. He loves you so fucking much, and you regret refusing to see it until your last night together. You wish so badly you could have savored his love more seriously rather than deny yourself of it.

You wish things were different.

So you cry for him. The moment the first tear falls, you don’t hold back. You let out something between a moan and a sob as he fucks his cock into you, and his hips stutter when he realizes you’re crying. He didn’t want you to cry, fuck, he doesn’t think he can handle that right now without crying himself. He just wanted you to know, needed you to know that you are loved by him. So fucking loved.

He keeps his eyes on yours, watches the tears fall. He tilts his head slightly and starts kissing the tears away, even as they continue to fall. Greedily kisses them away because they are for him. This will be the last time you water his fully bloomed flower, so he will be greedy. Because he knows that after this, his flower will wilt away, maybe he will, too. So he lets you cry and he kisses and fucks you through it.

He feels himself getting close, his cock starting to twitch and his hips grinding harder into your pelvis. He feels you getting close, too, the way your cunt starts pulsing in rhythm with his cock. You’ve never come at the same time before. He hopes that tonight, he can make it happen.

“Fuck, you feel like home… I love you so much…”

A strangled sob escapes your throat at his words. It’s like he can’t stop saying it, can’t get the words out of his mouth enough. You’ve yet to say it back because you’re afraid his glittery eyes will water, too. But god, you need him to know.

“I love you too, Koo… more than anything…”

And you were right. Hearing you say it amidst your tears, combined with the way your pussy starts rippling around his cock, throbbing and clenching directly after you say it, it’s too much.

He cries. Tries to hide it with a moan, but it’s no use because his tears fall onto your cheeks. You both start crying harder, and he starts fucking you faster. His arms tighten around your waist, and he starts kissing you. Lets you taste your melded tears, his sorrow, his devotion, his love all poured out into this kiss and his tears.

You both water each others flower for the last time.

You feel the familiar pressure building as you kiss him back, your tears mixing with his, the taste addicting. You hate seeing him cry; you know it’s going to haunt you for weeks. But right now, you’re consumed with wanting to be as close to him as possible, and you want to share this moment with him.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and your hips start matching his thrusts. The kiss turns a bit sloppy and uncoordinated because he’s very clearly about to cum; you can feel his cock start twitching and pulsing aggressively inside of you.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you. I. Love. You.”

He groans loudly, his voice sounds strained and distraught. “Come with me.”

You assume he means he wants you to cum at the same time as him. He wants you to cum together, which is definitely going to happen; you feel the string about to snap on both sides.

But really, it had dual meaning. Cum with me, but also come with me. Anywhere, everywhere, please run away with me, please love me forever and ever, please save a piece of your heart for me, please don’t stay away from me forever.

One last thrust and his pelvis grinds into yours as his balls draw up taught. He whimpers into your mouth, and his pelvis grinding into you, mixed with how fucking deep his cock is inside of you, is enough stimulation to your clit to cause you to hurl over the edge a second time. You cream all over his dick, your hips writhing beneath him as you whine and moan into his mouth. His cock jerks hard inside of you, shooting hot ropes of cum that seem endless. Your souls meld together much like your tears do, and you both cum harder than you ever have.

It’s like, in this moment, you are one. You both share a garden, flowers at full bloom, no pesky cages or fences to hinder you from flourishing together. There’s sunlight, and bees, and soil, and plenty of water. It’s peaceful, it’s heaven, it’s home. It’s where you both swear you belong.

Both of your orgasms seem to last eternally. It’s endless, his cock jerking and spurting in rhythm to the way your pussy milks him and pulses around him. He stays buried to the hilt until his cock tires out and your pussy stops milking him.

Even after, he stays like this. You both say nothing as you silently cry together, still connected intimately as you share little kisses between tears.

You made love. He made love to you.

You know damn well you’re ruined for any other man going forward after that.

He exhales a shaky breath and starts peppering your face with little kisses. Despite the tears, he feels lighter than before. There’s still that impending sense of doom, but he knows in his heart that you know he loves you now. That’s all he wanted from tonight…

And despite the sex being pretty vanilla compared to what you usually do, Jesus fuck, that was the best sex he’s ever had.

As he attempts to kiss all of your tears away, he starts whispering the sweetest shit to you, even as he continues crying.

“My baby…”

Kiss.

“My love…”

Kiss.

“My pretty girl…”

Kiss.

“My angel…”

Kiss.

“My heart…”

Kiss.

“My soul…”

Kiss.

“My fucking everything…”

Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Fuck, it makes you swoon hearing all of those sweet words. Not sweet nothings, but sweet declarations. Pure truth. You are and have been his everything despite how fucked up it all is.

You always will be. Fucking always.

You cry a bit harder, nearly blubbering now. He keeps crying, too, not quite as hard as you because he doesn’t want this to be harder for you than it already is… but he knows the moment he leaves you in the morning, he will cry twice as hard.

You realize you’re still clinging to him; there are definitely going to be red marks all over his back. Your legs are still wrapped around his waist, keeping him buried inside of you because that’s where you swear he belongs. He would agree with you.

But you remove your hands from his back and bring them to cup his face, and you feel so fucking drained from the intense sex and crying and the entire goddamn rollercoaster of today… but you don’t want it to end. Fuck, you’re so afraid for it to end.

You place a soft kiss on his lips, “I love you. I really do. Always have, always will, forever and ever…”

He smiles sadly down at you, nods. Because he knows. He never once doubted how much you loved him; every single time he was with you, he felt your love. Even when you were mad at him, you made him feel loved. He wishes so badly that he could’ve made you feel as secure as you made him feel.

You will never know how utterly thankful for you he is.

“I know baby, I know…”

You let out another choked sob and bury your face in his neck. He lifts himself off of you slightly, and he moves himself so that he’s lying beside you instead of on top of you. You cling to him again, refuse to let him go. Can’t. Won’t. Don’t want to. Can’t fucking bear it.

He gently slips his cock out of you and then wraps his arms around you, one hand coming to cup the back of your head and stroke his fingers through your hair, the other rubbing your back soothingly.

You cry and cry and cry. It’s pitiful how hard you’re crying; if anyone saw you right now, they’d be certain someone had died. It really feels that way, as if he’s dying while holding you right now. He feels like he’s dying watching you crumble like this, but he doesn’t dare stop you.

He doesn’t even reassure you because all that would do is give you false hope for something that may not happen ever again. For all you know, after this, you will never cross paths. He may just become a ghost to you…

A flower that bloomed in the spring and died come winter.

There were so many things you wanted to do tonight. You wanted to shower together, wash his hair for him, show him how to bake those cookies you know he loves, stay up and talk about a bunch of pointless shit, rewatch your favorite movies together, fuck a few more times, choke on his dick one last time, kiss him and touch him all over all night. So so so much more.

You didn’t want to stop here. You wanted to stay awake and savor every last second together just as greedily as him. But god, as you sob in his arms, you feel yourself growing so heavy with exhaustion that you can’t keep your eyes open.

“Don’t let me fall asleep, Koo, make me stay awake…”

He buries his face in your hair, his tears making wet patches in your strands. He inhales deeply just to get another whiff of your shampoo, fuck, he needs to figure out which one it is before he leaves so he can buy it and use it. Doesn’t even care if it’s weird. Wants to smell like you. Wants to be surrounded by reminders of you forever.

Like you, he’s been crying this whole time but so quiet that you don’t even realize it. He made sure you wouldn’t realize it. This is your time to get comfort from him, he can’t offer you reassurance, but he damn sure can comfort you through the pain that is his fault.

“Rest, baby… I’m here…”

You shake your head at him, keep your face buried in his neck even as your eyes start to lull shut.

“No, slap me, keep me awake… don’t wanna… sleep… please…”

He can feel your body start to go limp, can feel your tears running down his neck. He knows you’ll be out cold soon. You were fighting a battle you just couldn’t win, and god he wishes he could keep you awake. But he knows you’re emotionally overloaded right now…

And maybe if you fall asleep in his arms, you’ll rest peacefully for tonight. You deserve that, he thinks. You deserve so much peace and happiness.

“It’s ok Y/N… I got you. Just sleep. My baby needs rest, hm?”

You try so fucking hard to respond. But he’s right; you’re fighting a losing battle. Your body can’t keep up with your brain to the point you’re slurring your words. Maybe it’s the after-effects of a fight or flight response because it really felt like you were fighting for your love when making love tonight… fighting to keep hold of his roots as they slowly became untwined from yours. And now, you’re simply too tired.

“I… I love you… so… much…”

He lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes. Holds you a little tighter. Because, fuck, your last words before lulling into a deep sleep were that you loved him. It’s as it should be, but for some reason, it wrecks him, knowing that this is the last time he will hear them.

When your breathing evens out, he pulls back, stares at you. Your brows are furrowed even in sleep, clearly troubled. But you don’t stir and your grip on him loosens. You are so fucking beautiful. He wishes so badly he could just stay like this, watching you rest, in your arms while you’re in his.

Holding each other, as if you’re both one person instead of two.

He knows he won’t sleep tonight. He’s just as overwhelmed as you, but instead of his body shutting down, his adrenaline has spiked. He’s dreading leaving this bed, dreading leaving you.

He stares for an almost pathetic amount of time. Just lays beside you and takes in every soft detail of your face, traces his fingertips over your features. He finds himself wondering, what if he married you instead? What if you met sooner? What if you lived with him and had his babies one day?

What if… he left his wife?

He has to stop himself there. He makes a pained noise and buries his face in your hair again because he knows he can’t think like that. He could leave his wife; he probably should, but he feels like he owes her his life, his devotion. He married her, for fucks sake.

And even if he did leave, he doubts you’d ever be capable of having a healthy and stable relationship. People in these situations rarely do; it’s a form of karma, he thinks. Husbands who cheat and marry their mistresses often get cheated on, or they end up do it again.

He swears, fucking swears on his life that he would never do that to you. But he knows you probably wouldn’t trust him; any woman in your situation wouldn’t. You’d always be left wondering if he’d turn around and do the same to you one day.

Oh, Jungkook, how badly you’ve fucked up…

He has no idea how much time has passed by the time he checks the little alarm clock on your bedside table. He honestly can’t recall when he got here or what time ‘one more night’ started, but as of now, it’s 5 am.

He wants to stay. Wants to fall asleep holding you, wake up and make you breakfast, draw you a cozy bath and massage your back for you… wants to treat you as a lover would.

But he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon, he won’t leave at all. The moment you open your eyes, he will beg again. He will cry and beg and plead for you to change your mind.

Which is way too selfish, considering he’s still a coward, still unwilling to leave his wife both out of fear and knowing the reality of what happens once he does.

So he places one last kiss on your forehead, breathes you in one last time, and then quietly extracts himself from your hold. Standing up and getting off the bed, he looks down at you.

He swears he can see the exact place you keep his stolen heart inside of you. He doesn’t want it anymore, it’s yours. Always will be.

He slowly starts dressing himself again with robotic-like motions. He isn’t crying anymore; he feels kind of numb at this point, or maybe his tears have just run out.

Acceptance? Or the calm before the storm? He isn’t sure.

He doesn’t bother taking a shower; can’t be bothered right now even if he smells like sex… smells like your sex specifically. He can blame it on being lazy, but he knows it’s because he wants your smell to linger a bit longer. He will shower later.

Once fully dressed he pads his way into the living room, grabs the bag full of stuff he packed for you. He takes it back into your bedroom and sits it at the end of the bed.

He carefully collects each Polaroid he took of you for himself and stuffs them in his wallet for safekeeping. After nearly considering changing his mind and taking the camera greedily, he decides he’ll leave it for you, even though it was a gift you got him. He knows you love it, but also knows you’d never buy one for yourself. And if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t think he could ever use it again without thinking of you. It would feel wrong to use it without you.

So he sets that on the end of the bed. He opens the bag, carefully takes out the clothing he packed for you, folds them, and arranges them in a neat pile. Next, he takes out the box of Polaroids; he made sure to put a label on it before coming that said ‘For Y/N.’ He sets the box next to the clothes and then carefully places the chain he packed on top of the pile of clothes.

He wants to arrange it almost as a surprise, hoping it’ll feel more like a gift and not so much like a goodbye this way.

Now that the bag is empty, his intrusive thoughts return. He wants so badly to turn into a little thief and take some of your stuff, too. You would have gladly offered it to him, anything he wanted, but you’re asleep. And he can’t stay much longer.

His intrusive thoughts win, and he can’t find himself feeling too guilty.

So he reaches down and grabs the panties you had on earlier, the same panties that he sucked on like a damn popsicle, and he puts them in the bag.

He quietly makes his way into your bathroom, looks around for a moment until he finds exactly what he’s looking for: the star pimple patches. He takes them, noticing that they’re in a cute little case with a face on it. He knows you love these things; they make pimples feel less like some kind of imperfection. He loves them, too. They remind him of a time when you showered him with love.

You won’t miss them, he thinks again. Not as much as he’ll miss you.

He greedily holds onto them, looks around to see if there’s anything else he can steal. He sees your scarf hanging on the back of your bathroom door; it was the scarf you wore one of the first times he took you to dinner. It’s honestly kind of ugly; it’s a dark and muted plaid, but you loved it because of how soft and warm it is.

It smells very strongly of you.

It’s his now.

He takes the scarf and decides that’s enough. He’s greedy, but he’s not an actual thief. Maybe more like a rat. As much as he wants to steal your shampoo, he decides just to make a mental note of the name because he knows you'll need it to shower when you wake up.

He stuffs the patches and scarf into the same bag and stands before you on the bed. Fuck. He doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to leave you.

But now is the perfect time; you’re sleeping soundly, dead to the world. If he leaves like this, there will be no hysterical begging or crying from either party.

Still, he finds himself procrastinating. He decides to open the box of Polaroid photos he packed just to make sure none of the ones he kept for himself snuck their way in. They didn’t. He knows they didn’t. But never hurts to double-check.

He comes across one photo in particular… it was a photo he took one night after you both had some very intense sex. He rented a motel that night because he was in Busan for business, and of course, he dragged you along with him. Busan is his hometown, and his wife has always hated it. She was born and raised in Seoul and always claims Busan is too boring, not lively enough. She always refused to go with him, even if it was to visit his parents.

You, on the other hand, you were so fucking excited to go. You talked his ear off the entire ride there, and once you arrived, you were so interested in everything around you. It was so fucking sweet because you told him the reason you were so excited was because it was a part of him. He was born here, which makes the place sacred. It was dramatic, but god, it was precious.

After you guys fucked that night, you both showered together. You got out of the shower before him, and you snapped a few pictures with the Polaroid; he made sure to put those in the box for you. At some point after, you were lying in the bed watching some cartoon on the motel TV, and he was smoking a cigarette. He noticed a vivid handprint from where he was slapping your ass while fucking you from behind. It was the first time he wasn’t really concerned about it, but proud. Because in some fucked up way, he marked you, even if it was temporary. You were his, and even if you doubted it, he was yours.

It was the same feeling he got tonight when giving you those hickeys. Just a little reassurance that you belong to him.

He took the photo to kind of solidify the feeling, preserve it. It was very aesthetically pleasing. One of his favorites, he’s realizing. He almost wants to take this one.

But instead, he decides to leave it with you, and before he does so he grabs a pin from your desk and writes:

I won’t let you forget us

-Kook

It’s cryptic, he knows. Maybe it’s selfish to leave a message like that… but perhaps it’ll keep you open for him. Not that he expects you to wait for him to get his shit together, god never. But maybe you’ll allow him to check on you now and then, maybe you won’t block his number, maybe, just maybe, you’ll save a piece of your heart for him…

He sets the photo down on top of the pile of folded clothes and steps back. He looks at the clock again, sees that it’s now 5:50 am. He has no idea how time passed that quickly because it only felt like maybe ten minutes had passed. He must have been moving slowly; his brain must have realized how much he was fighting this inevitable end.

As he stares down at your sleeping form, he genuinely considers staying. Considers refusing to leave.

And that’s exactly why he chooses this moment to leave. He has to get the fuck out of here before he does something stupid.

He walks over to you once more, leans down, and places a kiss on your forehead, then your cheek, then your chin, and starts peppering your face with kisses all over again. His heart is pounding fast, and he has the urge to run. With one last kiss to your lips, he yanks himself away and grabs the bag now full of items that don’t belong to him.

He wants to take in your space one last time, wants to linger and look around because this has been his safe space for literal months. But he fucking can’t. He feels his resolve weakening quickly by the second and knows one more second here, and he won’t leave.

He quickly makes his way out of your apartment, is nearly panting as he walks out of your complex and down to his car. His hands are shaking, his heart is beating at a scary pace, and he starts to feel fucking sick.

He borderline throws the bag in his back seat, and then gets into his car quickly. His hands shake so severely that he fumbles with his keys as he starts the engine. The moment the car turns on, he’s peeling out of the parking lot.

It wasn’t acceptance. It was indeed the calm before the storm.

He’s never felt like this before. He feels nauseous and almost panicky as he drives robotically down the morning streets of Seoul. His breathing is coming in so fast he gets dizzy.

It all hits him at once. This is the end. FIN. Over.

He swears he feels his flower die at that very moment. It wasn’t uprooted and moved to another garden; someone fucking stepped on his fully bloomed Bearded Iris. One second he was thriving, flourishing, and now he’s fucking dead.

He doesn’t even recognize the sounds of his own choked sobs as he drives down the street. He can’t breathe. He can’t fucking see. He feels like he’s dying, truly, he almost considers calling for help because he feels so full of despair and grief.

But who would he call? His wife? That's a fucking joke. You? He can't call you anymore. He can't call his friends either because none of them know. He's on his fucking own now.

Nothing could have prepared him for what it feels like to grieve the death of a love who is still alive.

He ends up pulling into a random parking lot once he’s a safe distance from your apartment. He slams his palms on his steering wheel and just fucking bawls. Tears fog his eyes, and he sounds almost childish because of the force in which he’s crying.

He knew the day he lost you would be the day that that he died. And right now, he is dying for you.

It isn’t until 10 am that you stir awake. You instinctively reach for him, but your hands only find cold sheets, meaning he left a while ago…

You didn’t expect him to leave so soon. You expected to be able to wake up to him one last time, so you’re disappointed when you realize his clothes aren’t on the floor anymore, and you don’t hear the sounds of him awake and making coffee in the kitchen.

But you suppose that was a smart move. If he had stayed, it would have just made it harder for you both, most likely.

You feel oddly… numb. As of now, no sadness. The only thing you feel is almost like a little zap in your chest; it’s subtle, to the point you aren’t even sure if it’s really there.

It’s off. Somethings not quite right.

You ignore the weird hollow feeling as you sit up and stretch; you realize you never showered, and you smell heavily of sex. So you get out of bed, and you make your way into your bathroom. You start the shower after using the bathroom, and as you wait to warm it up, you look at yourself in the mirror.

Fuck.

You are literally littered with marks. Your neck, all the way down to your chest, all the way down to your thighs. Purple and pink love bites all over you. He seriously fucked you up.

You feel that zap again.

You shake your head and tear your eyes away from the mirror, don’t notice how your star patches are missing from your skincare tub on your bathroom counter yet. You step inside the shower and spend a good while letting the hot water wash over your body, washing the remnants of sex and sweat off of your skin.

After about half an hour, you step out. Dry off. Get dressed. That’s when you walk back into your bedroom and notice the pile of clothing sitting on your bed. Clothing that isn’t yours.

You slowly approach it and quickly recognize the strong scent lingering on it: his cologne. You unhurriedly pick up each piece of clothing, see the shirt and hoodie you often attempted to steal from him, accompanied by one of his favorite jackets.

He left pieces of himself for you.

Zap.

You set them aside and pick up the chain and photo. Fuck, you love his chains. You always loved them because, one, they’re fucking hot, and two, you loved how they would dangle above you when he was fucking you. You doubt he realized it, but sometimes you’d bite it as he was fucking you, tug on it like a damn dog playing with their favorite chew toy just to see if it would break. It never did, and you never stopped being fascinated with his jewelry.

Zap.

You look at the photo and immediately recall the memory. Busan, now one of your favorite places, all because of him. It was such a good little trip. You tried a lot of street food you never had before, saw a lot of pretty things, and he fucked you beautifully that night. It was rough, passionate, and he left hand prints on your ass, and much like him, you loved it. This was one of your favorites, for sure.

But then you read the note.

I won’t let you forget us.

Zap. Zap. Zap.

You drop the photo and the chain on top of the clothes, let out a shaky breathe. Still, you aren’t really feeling much, maybe a bit of nostalgia accompanying the zaps… but no despair, no yearning or grieving…

Calm before the storm.

You decide you need some coffee and painkillers. You have a lingering migraine from all of the wine and crying last night, so you leave your bedroom and make your way into the kitchen.

You start making your coffee and swallow the painkillers dry. You lean against the counter as your coffee brews, then freeze when you look at the floor.

The purple wild flower lays there, stepped on by he-who-shall-not-be-named’s boot. Wilted and destroyed, the petals disconnected from the stem.

The flower is dead.

And now you break.

Those zaps you were feeling, you suddenly understand. It was your fight or flight kicking in again, and instead of your brain responding to it, it blocked it out.

Can’t fight it now.

You drop to your knees, start breathing heavily because you feel like someone placed bricks on your chest. Your heart aches, literally, it hurts, it feels like it’s going to explode and you feel like you can’t breathe at all.

You start crying again… no- you’re fucking wailing. You’re crying out for the loss of your flower, for the death of a lover who isn’t even dead, much like Jungkook had earlier.

It finally hits you that he isn't coming back. He's gone, and now, you're expected to move on. Your heart aches for him. Without him, do you even have a heart?

No, you really don’t, not right now anyway. The moment he stepped out that door, he took it with him. He fucking stole your heart just like he stole your pimple patches and perfume.

All you can do is cry for him, except right now, you don’t have him to cling to for empty comfort. Instead, you reach for the dead wildflower, hold it in your palm, bring it to your chest, and cradle it close as if you can somehow bring it back to life.

Bring him back to you.

Little do you know, he’s currently curled up in his bed at his second apartment. He hasn’t stopped crying since he left. He went back home, took the stolen perfume, and sprayed it all over his damn bed, and now he’s hugging a pillow as if it’s you. Imagining that it’s you, that this is all just a horrible dream, and he will wake up soon.

Both of you are lovers, stars who collided, planets who aligned, flowers who grew side by side.

But it was at the wrong time. And now you’re paying the consequences of your paths crossing when they shouldn't have.

So far away in the matter of hours when you were once so close, yet you’re both doing the exact same thing; clinging to shreds of each other and wishing so fucking badly that things could be different.

Both of you left each other without returning your hearts. Both of your flowers got stepped on instead of uprooted and re-planted somewhere safer.

Spring has passed, no longer bees buzzing and flowers blooming, but the cold harsh winter is coming.

It will be a while before either of you bloom again, if at all.

#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 #i love jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfiction

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rosedom · 29 days

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Why am I sending you thoughts when I have my own blog where I can write them? Irrelevant question it's because you could write it better than me anyways

I'm down so fucking bad for Kaveh literally constantly 25/8 he's on my mind he'd be so SO GOOD and so sweet and just an angel, I know it in my heart of hearts he'd be SUCH!! A good boy! And in my heart of hearts I also know he would be a Very Big Fan of being called a good boy! Because that's what he is and yes, tell him so he deserves it!! But all I can think about in my dirty little brain is eating him out nice n' slow, savoring it, savoring him, and he's almost in tears because he can feel how much you love him and how much you're putting in but it's just barely not enough and he's been so close for what feels like hours and he's so close to begging but he opens his mouth to whine and he gets maybe half a syllable out before he clamps his mouth shut again and you're like ??? and you pause to look up at him because hey whats up but he shakes his head and tries to push your head back down but you resist and tell him no, really, whats up are you okay? and he just gasps out, voice wrecked, "Want- more, wanted more but 'mnot gonna ask, 'm a good boy, promise I'm your good boy, I can take- I wanna take what you give me, please, just- keep going, please?"

hehe hope you enjoy Rosey <33

ngghh yes !! yes yes 10x yes !!!

kaveh's so bold, in every way—outside, inside. he is the light of kshahrewar and he knows it; but in bed, with you, he can't seem to fully grapple how he is your good boy. you have to change that immediately, don't you?

and what better way to do that then to get him at his most vulnerable—your tongue lapping at his cunt, his chubby cock sat right in the soft dip of it.

saying, "of course you're my good boy," right as you lick at the hot jut of his cock. "you're always, always my good boy." each praise, each lick—it all sends zaps up his spine, and it makes him writhe.

also, there's simply no way that you'd leave kaveh with that doubt; he can ask—he can ask and ask and ask, and he'll get it, with you. "anything you want, sweetheart, i'll give you it.

don't hide that pretty voice of yours either—for me?" for me? because kaveh'll have to understand that this is something you get off on, too. pls pls give him as many orgasms as he wants, 'til his pretty brains melt out of his pretty head.

his cunt n' cock will both be a ruddy-red mess on your lips, and so too will his cheeks be a puffy pink from the thick trails of tears running down them . . . begging and dacryphilia, i love u <3

i enjoyed this SO much, omg. pls pls write !! use ur account !! i will follow u !! please do not compare urself to me—u have the same capabilities as i do. u will never grow if u don't try !!

#ㅤ✦【 INBOX 】#kaveh my dear my baby my sweetheart . . .#i loved this inbox sm ><#sub character #sub kaveh #kaveh smut #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin thirsts #←⁠(⁠*⁠꒪⁠ヮ⁠꒪⁠*⁠)

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opultea · 1 year

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Helloooo your request are open right? Im sorry if its not. I just read your cuddling headcanons with GN who loves listening to heartbeat and my inner affection deprived self just— FSOAJALAKA *squeals*

Sooo im wondering if I can request headcanons about GN reader who's love language is physical affection and veryyy clingy and just crave physical affection 😨 Like they would literally die of loneliness because nobody hugs them at night (so me fr).

Maybe with Kaeya, kaveh, alhaitham, scaramouchie, tighnari, childe and diluc? ( If its too much then kaeya, scara and childe is enough.) Obvi fluff but i dont mind hurt/comf either :)

Sorry if this is too long, thank you!!

I'm happy to continue feeding you guys affection content, hope you enjoy!

Joint At The Hip

Genshin Men with a reader who's very physically affectionate ft. Kaeya, Alhaitham, Kaveh, Wanderer, Childe, Diluc - GN Reader (No Pronouns) - Fluff - SFW - Romantic

Kaeya

Ever since Lisa introduced you two, and you greeted him with a hug, he was amused by you

It wasn't too hard to believe that a friend of Lisa's was overly affectionate, but he still raised his eyebrow when you linked his arm in yours whenever you passed him in the street so you could say hello

Kaeya admits that he found it a little strange at first

Weren't you the least bit worried that if you were like this with everyone, someone would eventually take advantage of you?

Though even with these thoughts in the back of his mind, he mostly just allowed you to do as you pleased

He found it funny how you always seemed so happy attached to him like that

Although he never dared admit or show it, he had his reservations about someone so openly affectionate with him; a stranger

But it didn't take long for Kaeya to sink into your every hug and smile whenever you took his hand in yours

He quickly learnt that you had no bad intentions, so he soon moved past his nature to conceal and protect himself by wearing his mask

In fact, it wasn't long before Kaeya was being just as clingy as you, clutching your waist suddenly to sneak up on you, bringing his arm around your shoulders as you walked or sat together, and teasingly lifting your chin with his hand

And once the two of you finally started dating, oh boy

Mondstadt better watch out, the clingy couple just got even clingier

Alhaitham

Has compared you to a parasitic creature in his mind at least five times

He never thought it insultingly, more like a genuine analysis of what you might have been trying to get out of this behaviour

Were you trying to butter him up so you could access a confidential file in the archive? Were you trying to pull a prank on him? Did Kaveh set this up?

He once brought this thought up with you while you sat beside each other, reading, your head naturally on his shoulder. You were a little offended by his use of the term 'parasite', but ultimately found it kinda funny that he thought that way

You tried to shift his thinking by proposing that it's more like a symbiotic relationship than a parasitic one

"It's hardly symbiotic if I'm not getting anything out of this,"

"Yes, you are! Because you're touch starved,"

Alhaitham choked at the sudden declaration, bringing his fist to his mouth and turning his head subtly away

"I am not touch starved."

"Sure buddy,"

It took him leaving for two weeks on an expedition to the desert for him to realise how right you were

He was touch starved, and he missed you more than he would have liked to admit

Good thing you were too, because the moment Alhaitham returned to Sumeru City, you were all over him and he couldn't have been happier for it, although he didn’t show it in his facial expression

And when you hugged him with greater force than he expected, instead of standing still like he usually did, he hugged you right back, bringing you closer

You've officially converted him, he is now an honorary snuggle bug (only for you tho)

Kaveh

You're his saving grace

He feels like the luckiest man alive to be able to come home and just let you cuddle him back to life after a long day of signing off project papers and designing and redesigning houses

Any time Ahaitham is making life hard for him (all the time), Kaveh just huffs and walks away, with plans to go find you so that he can indulge in your warm and loving embrace for a while

The best part to him is that you never need to be prompted to touch him, you just do it on your own because you like it

This means you guys have the perfect synergised relationship, since you love giving Kaveh affection, and Kaveh loves receiving affection

Of course, this doesn't mean that Kaveh doesn't give you any affection, not at all

He returns all your tight hugs and soft kisses tenfold

So if you've ever had a bad day, Kaveh's always ready for a little role reversal

He'll sit you down on the couch and prepare his favourite rose and padisarah scented face masks, and press kiss after kiss to your head while they set

He'll never let his sweet clingy little angel get down in the dumps, so he'll always be reminding you that you're the light of his life, and that no matter what you think, he would never have gotten so far without your constant love encouraging and healing him

Wanderer

The two of you have been dating for ages, and yet he has still not gotten used to how cuddly you are

His abandonment issues aren't going away overnight, and so he still has a lot of trouble accepting that someone would want to love him, no matter how much he loves you

Even though this insecurity has mellowed from its previous manifestation as general misanthropy and hunger for power to call his own, he still struggles with accepting affection

This struggle manifests verbally most of the time, so prepare to be yelled at when you jump-hug him, even if his cheeks are going pink

He has his own way of admitting that he wants you to be close to him, usually in the form of an insult, but you've learnt to read between the lines

Whenever the two of you go out to the markets for groceries or to browse, you take his arm and press it to your chest, your own arms wrapped around while your head rested on his shoulder, he would call you out for being dumb enough to need to stick to him

"Of course you need to cling to me, you loser. Otherwise, you'll end up getting lost somehow if I let you stray even an inch away. So don't you dare let go."

He's actually pretty proud of how much you cling to him, anytime he sees another man looking at the way you hang off Wanderer's side when you're out, he smirks and holds his head a little higher

Honestly, kiss him when he does this it'll wash his smug facade right away and turn him red

Childe

Childe himself is a cuddly man, so he loves to have his energy reciprocated

Although, he has a tendency to turn affection into a competition

Let's say you just got home from work, and you approach your boyfriend with a big hug from behind, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling your smile into his back

Well, he's going to see this as a challenge, and as always, challenge accepted.

Childe unlatches your arms from him and spins around quickly, before wrapping his own arms around you and picking you up, rapidly bolting to the couch to fling the two of you down. Before your surprise can wear off, he lays on his back and brings you on top of him, curling his whole body around yours

He then has the audacity to smirk at you as a "Beat that"

Although you're just happy to be snuggling with him at all

Overall he's just happy to be affectionate too

You're his favourite teddy bear, and whenever the two of you snuggle down to go to sleep he makes sure to pull you into his chest and rub his cheek against yours with a bright smile before he wishes you goodnight

Very indulgent of your affectionate habits because he has the same habits, it’ll be a cold day in hell before he lets you get away without his daily cuddle

Diluc

Your affectionate nature took him some getting used to, that’s for sure

In fact, for a while he was quite awkward around you, not really knowing how to deal with someone so touchy

And of course you did your best to respect his boundaries, even when all you wanted to do was throw yourself over his lap and hold his hands in yours, letting him know how much you cared about him in your own physical way

So when you became a couple, there was no stopping the build up of hugs that you had spent so long withholding

Diluc was a bit startled by the uptake in hand holding and arm linking in your relationship, but ultimately learnt that it was your way of expressing your love for him, and he appreciated that fully

He sometimes worries that he isn’t enough for you, considering his own lack of physical shows of affection, at least to the level that you provide

So he’s often surprised that you claim you want to stay with him, because for all he knew, you deserved better than someone that still didn’t quite know how to show you that they loved you to the moon and back

Once you become aware of this insecurity, you reassure him that physical affection is your way of showing love, but that he has his own ways as well. Ways that make you feel just as warm and appreciated

Diluc is glad to hear this, but will still actively work toward showing his love for you more often. It would be his greatest displeasure if you were unsatisfied in the relationship

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lilyginnyblackv2 · 1 year

Text

Buddy Daddies - Episode 11 - Thought Post - SPOILERS!!!

I fully expect that the fandom is literally losing it over Rei’s, “Kazuki!” and Kazuki’s little gasp outside of the safe house. (I know I still am!)

That scene is also the most intimate we’ve ever seen them be with each other on a physical level. And I actually think that is something that made Kazuki and Rei stand out/feel different, and why I never got “queerbait” vibes from them. In a way, Kazuki and Rei are kind of a prime example of how a lot of people’s defense against queer readings of MLM relationships in anime isn’t wholly accurate, since it usually boils down to: male friendships in Japan are more intimate, guys are more emotionally open, etc.

As someone who worked at elementary schools and junior high schools and have seen drunk male teachers at nomikai and enkai before - they aren’t. Not really. In junior high school there was a lot of rough housing and drunk male coworkers might sling their arms around each other when they are doing some kind of silly act or something - but usually the kind of queer subtext stuff that we often get in anime and manga is on a totally different level and not comparable.

Sometimes it really is subtext (a great example of this would be Nabari no Ou, the mangaka is X-gender and asexual, so any queer subtext you are getting from that series is likely queer subtext), but other times it’s just straight up queerbait. Usually you can feel and tell the difference between the two after a while.

With Buddy Daddies the promo materials never show them half naked wrapped around each other or anything enticing like that. And in-series we see them keeping a common, especially in Japan, physical distance with each other. As the series has progressed though, as Rei has learned how to communicate his thoughts and feelings more, and as Kazuki has learned to let someone in again, we’ve started seeing them communicating with each other more openly.

And while at the start most of their physical closeness has been in comedic scenes, like Kazuki dragging Rei around:

Or when Kazuki freaked out about Miri getting captured by some creep and took hold of Rei’s shoulders:

Now, in this episode, we have the two discussing a very important topic. Rei is as opened up as can be and communicating properly. He’s made it clear how he feels about taking the life of Miri’s father and through guilt by association, the life of Miri’s mother now too.

He’s laying himself pretty bear in front of Kazuki and his desire to raise Miri in this scene makes me think of Episode 3 in a way. With Rei in similar, though not exactly the same, role as Kazuki and Kazuki in the role of Misaki.

Rei, like Kazuki, wanted to take care of Miri. Kazuki, like Misaki who sent her away and wanted nothing to do with her, wanted to bring her to an orphanage and then exit her life entirely.

They flash back to Misaki’s death for a reason as well, because Kazuki is relating himself to her words.

He’s done this before and the two have been both foils of each other (Ep. 3) and parallels of each other, such as in last episode and even in this week’s episode, with Misaki’s bandaged fingers after she tried properly cooking a meal for the first time:

Looking like Kazuki’s after he tried sewing for the first:

Right, in that moment with Rei, Kazuki was thinking, “I’m being selfish too. I want to keep Miri even though it’s safer not to.” The difference though, is that Kazuki, unlike Misaki, has a partner who is equally in the known as him when it comes to the potential dangers of what they are about to do. He also has a partner that is willing to take equal responsibility and care of Miri.

Misaki never had that. Not the first time and the second time, when she came back for Miri in Episode 10, she likely didn’t even know how to ask for something like that. Rei wasn’t fully ready yet then either.

I have more I could say about Misaki, but I’ll save that for another post. In this one, I want to wrap around to the beginning of this post. The things that make this physical touch so intimate between them:

1. It is Rei reaching out to Kazuki. A first, iirc, outside of stuff like him putting his arm out to stop Kazuki last episode, Ep.10 (outside of the daycare)

2. The scene isn’t comedic. It is heated. The two are very emotionally charged.

3. Kazuki’s hand reaches out because he was angry at the situation. He grabbed Rei’s suit because of that built up fear and angry at the situation.

4. But Rei wraps his hand over Kazuki’s to show connection. He uses it to add emphasis and make Kazuki feel his words: “Think. What can we do to help Miri?” Rei has always been the one to calm Kazuki down. When Kazuki goes over the top, Rei reels him back in, like here. But this was the first time he had to physically reach out to Kazuki and touch him in order to make that point and actually bring Kazuki back down from the clouds and back into the reality of their situation and what they can do.

5. Finally, during this talk, when Rei says, “We’ll make Miri happy!” Kazuki doesn’t just think about Miri, he thinks about Yuzuko too. Rei says we’ll and Kazuki is fully acknowledging that.

This time, unlike in Episode 3, where they both decided to be Miri’s papas separately, they are deciding to be her papas together. There was a shift in their dynamic again, just like there was in Episode 3.

I noticed this last week and was wondering how this would play out in today’s episode, but we are seeing parallel episode structure with Arc 1 (Episodes 1 - 5) and this final arc (Episodes 10 - 13). This final arc is one episode short though, so this week’s episode was like a paralleled combination of Episodes 2 and 3.

Putting the rest under a Read More due to length.

Episode 10 Paralleled Episode 1 - Kazuki and Rei getting Miri due to a hit, Kazuki and Rei losing Miri to a hit (the hit being Miri herself).

Episode 11 Paralleled Episodes 2 & 3 - For the Episode 2 parallels you have:

Kazuki and Rei having Miri at the apartment for the first time and getting taken off the job with the introduction of Ryo killing someone. Versus us seeing Kazuki and Rei in the apartment for the first time without Miri and them deciding to leave their jobs this time along with Ryo killing again (hopefully, for the last time).

And in the case of Kazuki and Rei trying to adjust to the changes both with Miri in the apartment for the first time and without her in the apartment - they are both a mess, one was just a noisy mess vs the silent mess of this episode (11).

For the Episode 3 parallels, I feel like I talked about that quite a bit already. Though we have some other things as well, like Misaki’s “you know they aren’t your real papas” conversation with Miri:

Mirroring Rei’s conversation with Miri about Kazuki not being her real papa:

And, of course, we have Rei thinking about his father, who he was still staying away from at the time, and contemplating what being a papa really means. Now he has confronted his father, he went back to him, but spoke back to him, and he now knows for certain what being a papa means and is 100% ready to commit to that.

If they really are following this parallel structure, then what might that mean for Episodes 12 and 13, which would, on some level, parallel episodes 4 and 5? In Episode 4 we saw them actually stepping into the roles of “Papas” on a societal level with the government office and daycare and kind of jumping into it all without really knowing what they were doing.

Now they do know, they have experience, and we’ve seen Kazuki set down ground rules for Rei that Rei has agreed to follow when it comes to raising Miri. So there will be more involvement on Rei’s part.

There was forged paperwork too...Maybe this time we will see Kazuki fill out that paperwork slightly more legitimately. Someone (sorry, I can’t remember exactly who it was!) mentioned that if Miri’s father never claimed Miri, then Kazuki might be able to claim himself as Miri’s father on her birth certificate. So...maybe we’ll see that. They did make Kazuki look like Miri’s birth father for reasons.

And, if Episode 13 ends up paralleling Episode 5, where Kazuki and Rei got reinstated on the job, Episode 13 would be when they properly leave the job. However that may go down. The interesting thing to think about is what Kyutaro will decide to do. In Episode 5, he told them of the dangers and was tempted to not get attached to Miri, but he did anyway. He acted like a regular café owner with her, watched over her, and told her about her comedian and oil baron papas.

Now that we know Kyutaro has a safe house, will he deflect along with them and stay with her, will he work as a double agent or spy. I don’t know. But Episode 5 ended with Miri making a presentation, so maybe this episode will end with the Christmas Party at the end, which would bring the series full circle, since I bet that Christmas Party is on Christmas Eve.

I know that it’s been stated that there won’t be any more “fluffy” episodes, but I think that is tied to the “pretend family” vs. “real family” dynamic that gets brought up in this episode. Where Kazuki and Rei are both 100% all in, so that means there won’t be any “super happy” facade going up anymore, just sincere emotions (which can range from happy to sad to tragic to comedic, etc.). After all, in that quiote, the director also told them to let go of past restraints and to show the intimate feelings that exist between Kazuki, Rei, and Miri. After this week’s episode, I feel I completely understand what this means now.

I’m going to stop this post for now, because I feel it has kind of gone off in various directions and I do still need to take my daily walk around the neighborhood. But I do have a number of thoughts on this episode (I wrote them all down in my notebook to make sure I don’t forget anything, lol). And I’ll be getting those posts up in a bit.

But yeah, my mind is still going off in like five million different directions. How am I going to make it to next Friday!?

EDIT: SO! Next week’s episode is the last. The parallel aspect can still work though, Episode 12 would just parallel Episodes 4 & 5, which actually does work pretty nicely together. Thanks to everyone who informed me that Episode 12 will be the last!<3

#Buddy Daddies #BD #KazuRei #Kazuki Kurusu #Rei Suwa #Miri Unasaka #Misaki Unasaka #Kyutaro Kugi #BD spoilers #Buddy Daddies spoilers #meta post #thought post #analysis #image heavy post #long post

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dangerouslyknown · 10 months

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Hi hello!!!

Could I request hcs for Admirals with fem!s/o who is very small compared to them? Like she is 5'0?

HCs: Admirals having a fem!S/O much smaller compared to them

Thanks for the request! I am slowly getting back into writing again, so my apologies if I am a bit rusty.

Warnings: None

Borsalino / Kizaru

I have a feeling that your height doesn’t matter to him…. You’re taller? He’s delighted (and a bit amazed). You’re shorter? He’s delighted. You’re around the same height? He’s delighted. But! He can’t deny that he finds your short height adorable.

He’s overall a gentle lover, but… Sometimes he tends to forget that you are much more fragile than him. He would never hurt you on purpose, but sometimes he gets a bit carried away.

He will apologize with lots of affection, like hugs and kisses though!

This man loooves to pick you up in his arms a lot as well. Your weight doesn’t matter either, he just loves to hold you close to him like you’re his bride...

..and he might not say this to you directly, but he absolutely loves to hear when you compliment his strength while he holds you. Then he'll just act all smug about it-

Borsalino being how he is, he would definitely tease you a bit about your height. He’d occasionally just comment on it out of nowhere or do something to get your attention. Like he’d take your hand and place it on his and point out the size difference.

Sakazuki / Akainu

He isn’t the biggest fan of the huge height difference. He does prefer someone more close to his height. He had some concerns, but all the pros and you as a person made him forget the height difference. With time, he learned to “accept” it as he claims, but honestly…

In all truth, he loves how your small size makes him feel. Next to you, he feels more masculine and better about himself. He feels large and muscular. It just makes him so damn proud and boosts his ego and this man is all for it.

Actually, call him your knight or something. He’d claim it’s childish for you to call him that but he secretly likes it a lot.

He likes having you sit on his lap. He enjoys the closeness and it’s great you fit onto his lap so easily due to your size so it can be done almost everywhere. There’s also something he especially loves and it’s when you sit on his thigh. But that’s mostly on a more private setting.

It goes without saying that he’s there to help you reach places, but he likes to watch you get creative when trying to reach the high-up cabinets and such. He adores seeing your dedication to the task.

Kuzan / Aokiji

I think he has a preference for shorter women, so your height isn’t a problem at all. Like Borsalino, he isn’t too worried about anything, but he’s a bit more aware and actively worries more about accidentally hurting you. Eventually he relaxes though.

He adores you and thinks you’re sooo cute when you look up to his face from your height. Or do pretty much anything, he can’t help it.

He is a very caring man, but sometimes it might get a little annoying when he finds almost everything you do cute. He’s too lazy to fight or argue, so he’ll just be there and silently think how you’re pretty cute when you’re angry.

And there’s something that he loves to no limits. When he sees you wearing his shirts or other clothes. The way you look in his clothes, how oversized they are, there’s just… something in that sight, that gets to him. And he loves the way his shirts smell like you after you've wore them.

He loves to keep his hands on your head, stroke your hair and all that stuff when you’re near him. He might even rest his arm on you as you’re so short, but only to get a reaction out of you and then smile at you afterwards and apologize.

Issho / Fujitora

He wouldn’t necessarily mind the big height difference and you being smaller, but he would almost freak out about hurting you by accident. He’d make extra effort to be super gentle with you.

He would be the most protective out of all of these 4 and he would literally help you with anything you ever ask for. He doesn’t tease you about your height, but he might worry sometimes a little bit too much.

He was very cautious the first time you cuddled for example. He was afraid to hug you tightly, because he wasn’t sure if he'd be able to control all his strength.

Once he is comfortable though, you can expect lots of hugs from him. By the way, he gives such excellent, comforting hugs!

Eventually he calms down with his concerns, but he will never NOT put effort to treat you gently like a flower in his hands.

I know for sure he loves to just gently caress your face with his fingers and appreciate you. He also loves to just cup your face with his hands and hold it. It makes his heart melt every time he does this.

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transmascutena · 4 months

Text

while akio’s car is obviously a symbol of sex and sexual violence and the power that he alone wields as the only person who can drive it, i’m not really a fan of the interpretation that “any time someone gets in the car it means they are Literally Actually Having Sex in that moment.” while i do think that it’s probably true some of the time (touga’s first car ride with the “i’m not old enough” line and the car scene with akio and anthy in episode 37 in particular are the ones i read in this way,) i don’t think it’s as straight-forward as that, and generally, trying to decode metaphors to what they Actually Represent in the literal real world is not the most interesting way of approaching analysis to me. i do still think there is significance and meaning to which characters get in the car with who, though, and especially where in the car they sit. specifically i think it says something about the characters’ relationships to one another.

let’s start with the pairs we see sitting in the backseat together. the first are touga and saionji in episode 25, who have a lot outside of their car scene to imply a sexual (or at the very least homoerotic) relationship between them (see the motorcycle scene in episode 36, with similar symbolism to the car.) after that is ruka and shiori in episode 28, who have by far the most overtly sexual car scene, and is probably another one where the sex is literal. last is touga and nanami in episode 32, where touga assaults her (another sexual relationship, although enitrely nonconsensual this time.)

compare that to the characters who sit in the backseat alone: miki and juri. miki is in the car with kozue, but she doesn’t sit next to him, instead she sits in the front seat. this, in my opinion, means that while their relationship does have its weird incestual undertones, it’s never actually been sexual, and it isn’t here either. juri is in the car with ruka, and similarly they do not sit together; their relationship is also not sexual (even though ruka does assault her earlier in the episode, it doesn’t continue in the car.) it’s possible that sitting seperately in the car implies one-sided feelings, but i don’t think that’s likely since there's no implications of that between touga and ruka who do the same thing, and personally i don’t think it’s true for the kaoru’s either. and also, if the positions had anything to do with attraction, touga and nanami would obviously not have been sitting together.

then there’s the front passenger seat, and here the significance is that it’s next to akio. most of the people we see sitting there* (touga, utena, anthy, kozue) are people who are direct victims of akio’s grooming and abuse (the only exception being ruka.) i also think there’s something about how sitting in the front seat feels like it gives you more freedom than the back, even though that’s not true. like you get the special privilege of sitting next to the person driving the car, but you don’t actually get any control yourself.

(*i am deliberately not including wakaba here, because although she does sit in the front seat on her “date” with akio in episode 30, they don’t go to the infinitely looping metaphor-highway at night, and i think that distinction is important. like how utena is in the car several times, but only in that place after akio has turned the relationship explicitly sexual)

#this analysis has been in my notes since before i made this blog and i thought i might as well post it #not entirely sure of everything i've written here but whatever #revolutionary girl utena #analysis #m

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pilfappreciator · 5 months

Text

ATTENTION TROLLS FANDOM!!

This is very important. Mostly to me but maybe you guys have been wondering this too idk but anyways:

How does troll reproduction work exactly?

Cuz I'm genuinely curious. I dont think anyone on the series production team has said anything and so far I've seen absolutely no one touch on this subject but as someone who's always had an interest in the habits of creatures (both fictional or otherwise), I kinda sorta maybe NEED to know this otherwise I'll never be able to sleep peacefully again

Full disclaimer that I'm specifically talking about the whole egg situation, I am NOT ASKING HOW THEY GET IT ON IF I WANTED THAT ANSWER I'D GO TO DEVIANT ART OR TWITTER OR WHATEVER LAWLESS PLATFORM GOD STEERS CLEAR OF. This discussion shall remain STRICTLY educational, thank you very much

But anywho. Let's dive in

So trolls come from eggs. This is basic knowledge. First instance of this phenomenon (as far as I know, I've only seen the movies) is from World Tour.

Egg pops out of Guy Diamond's hair, egg hatches and BOOM, (literal) baby. Now I understand that this whole sequence was probably just a gag and a way for DreamWorks to implement another (merchandisable) addition to the cast HOWEVER this sequence also raises a few questions

First off, as far as I know Guy Diamond has no partner (again: I haven't watched any of the spinoff shows). Either that or maybe the other troll was a sorta one-night-stand/no-longer-in-his-life kinda situation? Which is great either way cuz its shown he obviously cares for his son and we at Tumblr appreciate a loving single father no matter the circumstances, but if my former theory is correct than that would imply that trolls are capable of reproducing asexually. Like onions.

Now if that hypothesis is, as they call it, "cap" then that would mean that some sorta hanky panky has to go down before an egg comes into question. And if that's the case, does this mean that male trolls are traditionally the ones who carry the eggs?

But that can't be right, can it? Afterall, World Tour gave us yet ANOTHER egg scene later on in the movie

In Cooper's flashback, we clearly see Queen Essence being the one carrying the eggs meanwhile King Quincy is eggless. Now, as far as i see it, this could be explained either one of four ways:

1) Quincy was the one who actually produced the eggs and Essence is merely holding them for her husband (since her hair seems more fitting to be a makeshift nest compared to Quincy's)

2) Female trolls are the ones who produce the eggs. Guy Diamond is just a trans icon

3) Troll reproduction differs from genre to genre

4) There is a... *sighs* a/b/o type of dynamic among troll kind where certain trolls are capable of giving birth/siring children depending on a secondary gender

In regards to theory #3, this could also explain why Guy Diamond seems to reproduce and hatch an egg in such a short amount of time (like 5 seconds I'm pretty sure) as opposed to Queen Essence/King Quincy who's eggs presumably went a while longer before actually hatching.

Actually, speaking off eggs, are trolls the only species in their world that reproduce that way?

Because now that Band Together has officially been released, we now know for certain that it's possible for different species to crossbreed. Biggest example? Resident DILF Bruce and his giant muppet wife

(Credit to @captainunderkrupp )

When I saw these two... I swear...

And these two already have a shit ton of kids okay so like... either Brandi was the one giving birth or trollsona Daveed Digs was over here pumpin out eggs, which I mean-

DO YOU SEE HOW BIG THESE THINGS ARE COMPARED TO BRANCH AND POPPY?? Believe me I am PRAYING that Bruce gave himself some serious maternity/paternity leave because my guy is honestly a trooper

But yeah any thoughts? :))

#i made a whole nother tumblr account just to ask this question pls somebody gimme their thoughts PLS-#i want someone at dreamworks to make an educational encyclopedia about the different species of the Trolls Universe im not asking for much #Bruce and Brandi make me feel some sort way #i will not be specifeying what way #trolls #trolls band together #trolls world tour #poppy trolls #branch trolls #spruce trolls #bruce trolls #brandi trolls #guy diamond #tiny diamond #gueen essence #king quincy #but thats just a theory A TROLL THEORY #pilf post

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write-tama · 12 days

Text

"hank.. what am i feeling right now?"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ connor anderson (4k800) x officer!reader

sypnosis ; connor is very interested in an officer who just joined the police force. after being told the news that they would be joining the team, connor just had to make an acquaintance with them. anything to hear their voice.

containing ; use of you/yours and they/them pronouns! connor struggling to process emotions. hank being a proud father.

author’s note ; hihi! havent written for connor in SO long so i thought this was a cute little way of them meeting each other. connor is a

04.12.24 | 1.9k words

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Everyone knew about the infamous 4k800.

The last most developed and intelligent android produced by Cyberlife.

A machine built to hunt its prey and to always accomplish his mission.

But now?

A confused man sitting at his desk, elbows on the surface as he ran the fourth diagnostic this morning.

Connor was never really taught how to feel his emotions, considering that he was forced to compress them from the moment he was made. If he were to feel any sort of emotion, it was either to the scrap factory for him or a hard lecture from Amanda.

But Amanda was gone, and androids were free to express any emotion they pleased.

It’s been weeks since Markus hit the headlines for his famous android revolution. He worked with the government extensively to pass bills in order to settle android rights for the country. Connor, on the other hand, continued to work with the DPD as a full-on detective under the supervision of Liutenant Hank Anderson. Hank was more than just a coworker, but a father figure to Connor. And that brought Connor joy, an emotion Connor was well aquainted of.

But not the feeling he was experiencing now.

Connor couldn’t get his mind off a certain someone who had joined the team a bit before the revolution. You had joined a week prior, and honestly, you were kind of regretting it. As android and human tensions rose, you were on duty 24/7. Originally, you were supposed to start easy with basic patrol around a part of a city, but because you were so impatient in doing the “big kid stuff” you found yourself frequently in the middle of the android and human discourse. Your shifts nearly lasted twelve hours, and you would be absolutely exhausted.

Things are different now. Sure, there were still some situations between the two sides, but it was definitely peace compared to literal boycotts. You sat at your desk idly scrolling through your past cases, making sure that all the information was correct and accurate. On the other side of your desk was a tablet full of notes you had taken after some cases you had to deal with. What you didn’t notice was the android detective constantly glancing at you, watching your every move to see if maybe, at some point, you would notice him.

A loud groan echoing from the desk in front of Connor made him jump, immediately turning his attention to his lieutenant taking a seat in his chair. “Fucking hell..” Hank sighed. “Fowler does nothing but my bust my balls these days, huh?” Connor stared at his partner with his hands folded in his lap and eyebrows furrowed.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, tilting his head.

“It’s nothing too serious. Fowler just wants me to take the rookie on our next homicide case. He insisted that they would be a perfect addition to the team or whatever.” Hank groaned. “Now I’m responsible for two of you fucks.”

Connor, admittedly, felt his thirium pump racing. You? As part of the team? It was almost like he could overheat and shutdown momentarily right now. “I think they would be a great addition to the team.” Connor stated, biting back from smiling. “They have an excellent track record of solving cases in an orderly and timely manner, has caught every perpretrator with their undercover skills, and had a reputation back in their training classes as one of the top students.” He explained. Hank looked over as he was slouched in his seat with arms folded across his chest.

“Jesus, Connor, you sound like some creep searching up their name on Google.” Hank scoffed, half smiling. Though this caught Connor a little off— was he being creepy? He didn’t want to leave a bad impression on you, especially now that you're about to meet for the first time. His face scrunched up in anxiety, feeling as if he made a mistake. Hank immediately took notice and sat up. “Ah— I was just joking, Connor. I’m sure you have uh.. Good intentions.” Hank reassured, though he never said he was exactly good at it.

Hank looked over to you, seeing that you were preoccupied with work despite the fact you haven’t been on a case in a few days now. Hank looked at Connor. “Well.. Why don’t you introduce yourself to them.” Hank suggested, nodding his head over to you.

Connor immediately jolted his head up, a little wide-eyed to even suggest such. “O-Of course.” Connor stuttered out. Connor never stuttered, and though Hank was in a mood after his exchange with Fowler, he certainly didn’t leave that unnoticed.

“Did you just stutter?” Hank asked, a little amused. “Are you.. Nervous?”

“Of course not, Lieutenant,” Connor replied as steadily as possible. “I am an android.”

“Connor.”

“Yes?” Connor replied, mindlessly.

“You’re a deviant, for fucks sake.”

“Oh.”

Connor, to avoid anymore embarassment from the man he deemed his father figure, swiftly got up and started to approach you. Hank watched in pure amusement, not even wanting to stop the boy from probably embarassing himself even further, but at least Hank had some faith in him. He is Detroit’s best god damn detective.

“Hello, Officer (l/n). My name is Connor. It is nice to meet you.” Connor said, putting his hand out for a shake. You looked up from your computer screen only to be met with the most chocolate eyes you’ve ever had the privilege of being in the prescence of. He smiled politely, but behind that smile he thanked Elijah that androids could not sweat, otherwise you would’ve felt the claminess of his palm.

You took his hand and shook it firmly. “A pleasure to make your aquaintance. My name is (y/n).” You smiled generously, and wow, did Connor felt like his pump couldn’t get any faster.. He cleared his throat before darting his eyes to the unoccupied chair that sat next to your desk.

“May I?” Connor asked, gesturing towards the seat.

“Of course, I’m not doing much anyway.” You nodded. Connor took a seat, and for some reason, he struggled to even maintain his balance as he sat himself down. He nearly had to think about how to fold his hands before placing them firmly on his laps and looking at you. Thankfully, you barely realized any sort of struggle as you looked away to take a swig of your morning coffee.

“So..” you said, clasping your hands. “Am I in trouble or anything?” you joked. Connor immediately shot his head up, worried he had made the wrong impression.

“Oh, no— I—” Before Connor could sputter out an explanation, you tilted your head a little and started laughing.

“Relax! I was just kidding!” You playfully waved off. Connor’s shoulders immediately relaxed as a breath he didn’t even know he was holding back escaped his lips. You looked at him curiously, a smile still resting on your face.

“I’m sorry. Usually, I am not like this.” He said, shaking his head a little in embarassment. He was always on his A game and constantly prepared. Why were you the reason for this disruption. “I.. Uh..” He couldn’t think of anymore to say. Suddenly, he got a message through his LED.

Connor blinked a bit, registering the text message. Hank was at a perfect view watching this unfold. The back of your head was visible but he could see all of Connor’s reactions, who desperately tried to maintain a polite smile.

NEW MESSAGE:

HANK: tell them u think theyre pretty.

“I think you’re very pretty, (y/n).” Connor complimented.

“Oh— ah—” A subtle blush began to form on your cheeks as your eyes widen a little, not expecting a compliment from a handsome android such as Connor. “Why thank you, Connor. I wasn’t expecting that as our first conversation.” You chuckled a little. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Thirium was rushing through his circuits and to his cheeks. The faintest color of blue appeared dusted on his face. “Thank you.” He maintained a calm, neutral voice. They stared at each other for a minute, sort of registering the sort of corny first conversation the two of you had.

“Ah.. I almost forgot to mention.” Connor snapped back to reality. “I came here to introduce myself sfter I heard that you were joining our team on our next investigation. It’s good to make an aquaintance with our future team member.” Connor smiled politely.

“Why thank you. I am very excited to work with you and Lieutenant Anderson.” You nodded. “Though I will miss working with Gavin and Chris’ team.”

Ah, that’s right. You used to work with Gavin. It almost left a bad taste in Connor’s mouth knowing that Gavin probably spat some awful opinions about him to you. Though from the looks of it, you were enjoying your conversation with him which eased him.

“I promise we will a provide a welcoming and safe space in our team, and of course, to make sure you don’t come into harms way.” Connor assured. Though he was mainly promising this to you personally. God forbids Connor seeing you get hurt.

“Why thank you, Connor.” You said, tilting your head. Connor was rather intriguing to you— an android acting this way around you. His LED constantly switched between yellow and blue as if he was making sure to process every word you uttered. Yet he was so human— he would scratch the back of his neck, fidget with his fingers, and shuffle a bit in his seat. You would think someone as advanced as him would at least be able to have a composure, but he was different. It was something you admired about him.

“(l/n), in my office!” Captain Fowler called from the balcony of his room. You looked over to Connor before sighing.

“Well, boss is calling me. I’ll talk to you afterwards?” You suggested as you stood from your seat.

“Of course.” Connor replied, shielding his excitement. He stood up from his chair as well. “I’d be happy to talk again, (y/n).”

“Likewise.” You winked. With that, you left your desk and headed straight to Fowler’s office. Connor stood shellshocked. Did you just.. Wink at him?! Connor’s eyes slowly drifted to Hank, who was chuckling heartily. He gave Connor an assuring thumbs up as Connor made his way back to their desks.

“You’d be a shit detective if this is how you acted all the time.” Hank snickered. Connor grinned a little before taking a seat back at his desk.

“I know.” Connor sighed, leaning a little back in his chair. He at you through the glass walls, noticing your upright posture and the way you listened intently to Captain Fowler’s words. He looked over to Hank before thinning his lips.

“Lieutenant?” Connor asked.

“What is it, son?”

“What am I.. Feeling right now?” Connor asked, a little lost on how to explain it. “I can only think about them— only envision them when I close my eyes. I get nervous and its like my programming has reduced to 0s and 1s.” He sighed, hell, even a little frustrated that you had this affect on him.

Hank with a wide smile, shook his head and looked at Connor with a knowing stare. Connor looked up, both lost while desperate for an answer and maybe even a cure. Hank sat up and made sure to look at Connor right in the yes.

“Connor,” Hank sighed, grinning. “Son, that feeling your experiencing is called love. And your plastic ass better get used to it.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

thank you so much for reading towards the end ! im sorry if its a little messy-- i quickly had to post this before hanging out w some friends but i just wanted to get this out of the way rq! reblogs, replies, and even likes are so so appreciated <3

#detroit become human #connor detroit become human #connor x reader #connor x you #connor rk800 #connor dbh x reader #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #rk800 x reader #dbh #detroit become human fanfics #hank anderson #connor anderson #4k800 #connor 4k800 x reader #dbh 4k800 #4k800 x reader

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tubborucho · 5 months

Text

I think there’s a big misconception between red and blue viewers about the nature of feeling defeated.

I can’t speak for red, because I don’t watch them, but I see people using red’s first day as a counterargument to what’s happening with blue practically every day. As I understand, their first day was hell, because they were in a severe disadvantage as a team. They’re lore-heads and ‘dumb lucky’ (i am NOT calling them dumb, they are actually all really smart, i am just saying that they are stupidly lucky sometimes), this is not what can give you a win when you are thrown in that game. On the first day. They did get killed a lot and they were going insane. And they were having fun! Listen, I’ve read SO many posts about how funny and cool red’s first day was and hoe people absolutely enjoyed it. And it’s cool.

But it’s COMPLETELY different to blue. Blue are not in the ‘fuck it we ball’ defeat mood. Because they are never given a chance to just enjoy their wins.

1st day – they got SO much backlash for everything that it was genuinely horrible

2nd day – red found the global task strat. Which is fine. But blue had the whole day of just struggling to understand how FOUR PEOPLE TRYING AND TRYING cant overtake one Etoiles on a leaderboard.

3rd day – they’ve been leading the score all day. Did everything they could pretty much. And again, last minute strat. Which was fair, but it’s a big hit on their morale.

4th day – they win, using the same strat. they specifically did it the way they did just to show how broken it is. they get layers and layers of hate from twitter.

5th day – both red and blue give win to green. this day was neutral.

6th day – the egg preparations. blue decided to just give this day away as well. but bad and pac were hunted for hours just two of them.

7th day – the Egg Wars. we all know what happened :D

8th day – elimination. blue won. blue could’ve easily win without even trying to tie with green, but they did. they almost succeeded. it didn’t feel as a victory when they won, because everyone just blamed them. that wouldn’t happen if green won, everyone would cheer, and it’s a fact.

9th day – that’s today. bad and bagi were constantly hunted for about 3 hours. they couldn’t get into the base for like 4,5 hours (they can now because tubbo is guarding the bounty npc).

Each day when they lose – they lose without sympathy and any kindness from others. Each day they win – this victory is bitter, clawed out and they are hated.

Yes, red and blue both know this feeling of not being able to do anything. But Red have so much support on their side. Both in-game and in-fandom. They are praised for everything they do. They got so much less troubles from blue and green because they kept walking away to not ‘punch down’ from this whole underdog narrative. Meanwhile blue just keep being screwed by everything around them. I think arguably the only thing they have over red is the favor of Lil Buddies, because they are constantly hanging out with them. That’s all. All material stuff they have will be easily matched like tomorrow. They’ve never really had a PVP advantage in the first place because Green’s skills and Red’s players count.

It’s genuinely demotivating to even watch their stream. Like I think I would genuinely cry in their place. All their efforts are either useless, because they immediately get nerfed, or get hated on by literally everyone and everything. It’s such a deep-rooted feeling of loosing before you could even play, that it transfers over the screen.

Red burned in that fire on the first day. And it powered them (in a cursed but fun way). Blue keeps being drowned by everything around them like unwanted kittens, and they are fighting for their life.

So no, I do not think it’s fair to compare Red’s first day to anything that happens to Blue. It’s not the same. I do understand however that it defied them as characters, so it’s a fair point to analyze. But in meta-arguments? Yeah, no. [insert a poll ‘Who suffered more? Blue Team Jesus]

And yet they try. And yet they have nice moments. And yet they are friends. Love prevails.

#this is NOT a red neg #i just wanted to explain to some of my red mutuals and maybe other red mains who don’t watch blue #what’s going on here #i may be wrong and you are welcome to disagree #but i genuinely do not think red and blue are on the same level of feeling hopeless #liss writes posts #qsmp #team soulfire #team bolas #qsmp blue team #qsmp red team

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mewtwo24 · 8 months

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Sasaki and Hirano, Compare/Contrast Brainrot

Okay like I saw a post about Sasaki and Hirano’s friendship and I just. Started thinking about it and now I can’t stop. Especially after reading Hirano to Kagiura.

I feel like they’re messed up (repressed is probably what I actually mean) in the same way but in opposite directions and that’s why they like…get along, but in the strangest manifestation of that phrasing? They care about each other almost from a periphery, from the vantage point of someone who understands, but, since they’re also still figuring it out, they don’t know quite how to interact with or guide the other?

And it’s killing me because--idk if it was just me--I kept going feral over every single time I was reading the manga and Hirano would go “oh yeah I do [insert fuckign batshit intimacy] with my roommate, this is a normal senpai/kouhai thing to do” and Sasaki literally always reacts with:

“.” (Huh. I don’t think that’s normal but who am I to judge these things. Let’s ask the local social barometer.)

“Hey Hanzawa, this [reiterates what Hirano said word-for-word] isn’t normal is it?” (Translation: “this would be inappropriate to do with Mya-chan even though I’m clawing at the walls just thinking about it”)

And Hanzawa, bless his heart, who is only a fraction more normal about social interaction than everyone else is just like:

“.” [W H A T]

��Sasaki, what. Of course you shouldn’t be doing that. W H Y ARE YOU ASKING ME THIS”

AND THIS HAPPENS MANY TIMES IN THE SPAN OF TWENTY CHAPTERS. I CANNOT EXPRESS ENOUGH THE HILARITY BUT ALSO CONCERN IT INSPIRES TO WATCH.

More detailed analysis under the cut, I just can’t stop laughing at the way the manga compares them:

Sasaki fascinates me because, as I take stock again, it feels like he’s got this dread when it comes to change (e.g. Ogasawara and his gf dating--thus changing his relationship with both of them, asking Miyano out--risking losing him, confessing that he’s dating a boy to his sister--risking her enduring and fervent disapproval). So much of his younger teenage angst was related to being reluctant to start or do things, and while it’s easy to assume laziness, I don’t think that’s the case? He says in the manga: “There’s nothing I can do, so how am I supposed to know what I want to do then…?” I get a sense that this trapped feeling contributes to his dissatisfaction and stasis more than a refusal to do anything at all. I don’t think he lacks capacity; he’s proven to be exceptionally clever and even studious when he feels motivated.

Considering the lack of interest his parents had in his life (let alone his hobbies/skills) and his sister’s overbearing scrutiny, I feel like it makes sense he’s struggled so much with his self-actualization. I feel like he perceives it as being caught between hot and cold extremes constantly; like no matter what he does, he’ll either receive indifference or loud chastising. So why bother at all? It would explain why he likes Miyano’s temperament so much, considering the latter quite literally is defined by his normalcy and even keel. When Sasaki wants to move forward in their relationship, Miyano seriously considers both their feelings, and thoroughly weighs the realities of what it would mean to be together before replying. While Sasaki wants to be closer to him, I think so much of his willingness to wait was the fact that Miyano wasn’t evading him. Miyano was being honest and thorough about meeting him halfway, without insulting his feelings or flat out ignoring him.

(Side note: I fully agree that Sasaki’s sister is a positive influence in his life, in that she actually gave a damn when he was downspiraling and miserable, and pointed out that all kids need limits and guidance. But she is loud and forceful about her acknowledgement, and I feel like this is very grating to Sasaki. For better or worse, it’s clear he has a hard time with such a direct and intense approach about what he should think and feel, and about what he needs. Sasaki shows indications of a kind of mindset where he thinks he needs to shoulder all the tough and heavy things alone, so it makes sense to me that he would be uncomfortable with his sister proclaiming how he is lost or bereft of attention/discipline.)

I think there’s also the fact that Miyano witnessed Sasaki at his most vulnerable--and instead of lashing out--offered him help and sympathy, real warmth and patience. Sasaki has always meant a lot to me as a character, maybe because he resonates in such a poignant way. He’s somebody who has lived under such emotional extremes, and as a result deeply values a sense of normalcy. Where one could argue Miyano is unassuming and ordinary, I think that’s part of why Sasaki likes being with him. With Miyano, he doesn't have to guess at the distance between them; Miyano is earnest and careful about those differences, and is very direct about addressing them with reciprocity.

Now then, Hirano. I know very little about Hirano’s home life other than his being an only child. But to be honest, that does tell us a bit--paired with his subtle social anxieties. I will never forget Sasaki saying to Miyano ‘that’s because Hirano plays favorites with his kouhais’ about the gap between his behavior towards his younger classmates versus everyone else. While Sasaki’s petulance is uproarious, there is something to that. (I also love how this exposes Sasaki, lowkey, because he’s basically saying that he’d only do that with his favorite people, aka Miyano. But otherwise he could never be bothered to care about a rando, and that’s hilarious.)

I think Hirano--because he doesn’t really have a sense of how he’s supposed to relate to other people--tends to follow the same strict guidelines you might see in a rule book (DISCIPLINE COMMITTEE COUGH COUGH). Supposing he was taught--or simply feels responsibility towards younger kids as a result of reflective parental neglect--it would explain why he feels this rigid need to treat kouhais like little siblings. At first glance, and honestly when you consider his general aloofness, it doesn’t make much sense that he has a mothering sensibility otherwise.

Now then, because I realized this while writing and I have to inflict this on everyone else in rapid succession, this would explain his initial staunch discomfort with Kagiura’s affection. In the context of Hirano’s lifestyle/mindset:

Hirano → relationships with people? Don’t understand that, refer to following flowchart:

→ younger = responsibility, must protecc

→ same age = keep them in line

→ older = respect (but only if I feel like it HAIR DYE NOISES INTENSIFY)

Mind you, I don’t think this is limited to his platonic/friendship relations. I think this permeates into so many other aspects of his life, since sociality is inevitably a focal point for all human life. If he feels an uncharacteristic leniency and profound affection for Kagiura, then it must be because he's a kouhai he wants to protect, nothing more. He has no other reason or definition by which to ascribe to those feelings. Hirano doubly insisting he can’t be attracted to men is because he’s been so inundated in the widespread social signals, the social rule that has been long standing--and remains a pretty powerful message even now--that it’s unlikely (and that’s a gentle term) he’s attracted to another man.

After all, He is So Good At Being A Normal Young Man. He’s in the discipline committee. He gets excellent grades. He’s a kind and helpful senpai. He keeps his classmates in line. Of Course He Likes Women, What Do You Mean Gay.

He’s basically that meme like: “'Men can be attracted to other men' actually statistical error. Average men only feel attraction for women. Sasamiya is an outlier and should not be counted."

Both Hirano and Sasaki hate change/unpredictability, but I really love how complex their differences are in regards to how they experience that and feel that. Sasaki hates change, but he’s not necessarily emotionally repressed? He’s able to express what he feels for Miyano because he feels it so strongly, and it comes naturally when he does. In fact, it’s so natural that he becomes impulsive--and that’s why he gets so anxious about moving too far or too fast by accident. He has the overthink override, where if the attraction is too strong he simply Can’t Shut Up About How Much He Loves Miyano or stop hugging/kissing him.

Hirano hates change in the sense that he’s so ensconced in this idea that This Is Normal Human Behavior, that he completely loses sight of how he actually feels about anything--because he rejects/suppresses anything he can’t coherently define in a scripted, linear way. And being asked to tread that unstable, unsteady ground is tantamount to throwing a cat in water with no warning. This is why it’s so sad but also HYSTERICALLY FUNNY to see him like “wym I have feelings for Kagiura. It's perfectly normal to start yelling with all the wounded rage of a scorned housewife over my kouhai not letting me wake him up for morning practice. That is what it means to be a senpai.” Because he has no blueprint for how he’s supposed to express a love that goes deeper than friendship (with a man no less), he defaults to these overly simplistic structures that can’t support the complexity/maturity of such adult human feeling and exchanges. They worked for him just fine before, so why won’t they work for him now?

Relegating Kagiura to the role of kouhai makes it easier for Hirano to conceptualize why he cares so much for him, but it also limits the scope of his view. He’s using it as an umbrella term in a sense: of course he doesn’t find every little thing about Kagiura infuriating/boring/troublesome. Being the older person means being responsible and chill about everything. But that’s the thing. He’s not indulging Kagiura the same way he indulges Miyano, despite him qualifying them the same way. With Miyano it’s super clear Hirano really does just see him as a baby duckling, someone to treat gently and usher around. His behavior around Kagiura is so astronomically different in comparison, it’s nearly comical to try to compare them:

It’s Kagiura’s birthday. Hirano, who probably hardly remembers people’s birthdays, deadass went around asking every person he was close to (like, 5 ppl) for advice. He agonized over it for days on end. He gets Kagiura tickets to a basketball game and an alarm clock, and spends the entire day with him. He asks Hanzawa if he can use party poppers to celebrate Kagiura on the day of, and to get around the rules when he’s told no he has everyone go hog wild with them at the Christmas party in a loophole maneuver to celebrate. Reminder to myself and everyone reading, this is BEFORE he even hears a word about Kagiura’s feelings.

THIS IS BEFORE EITHER OF THEM ARE IN ANY KIND OF INTIMATE RELATIONSHIP. HIRANO, WHO IS MR. “i only study or drag people to baby jail, what do you want,” SPENT ENTIRE DAYS PAINSTAKINGLY PLANNING ALL OF THIS. FOR KAGIURA’S BDAY. AFTER ONE OFFHAND COMMENT FROM KAGIURA OF LIKE mannnn having an xmas bday sucks ass, they just try to lump it tg with holiday presents booooo :///

That Hirano conceptualizes Kagiura as a kouhai has been established. But another angle that’s equally crucial is this equation:

Hirano → adore person? Devote Every Minute To Being Nice^TM

→ hate person? angry cat hissing sounds/smack with paper roll

→ mild dislike? Lowkey grousing/sarcasm/dismissal

→ neutral? (this is most people btw) refer to earlier chart for appropriate social etiquette

This is pretty much where Hirano gives himself away. Because even in his most inflexible rules for himself, we’ve never seen him convey so much feeling for anyone around him so helplessly. It can be argued that he might have in the past, but honestly, I doubt it. The feeling is so confusing and new to him that it leads me to believe so much of his difficulty accepting what he feels is related to its unfamiliarity. He can’t trust it as real precisely because he can’t control or neatly define it. (This made doubly disconcerting by the fact that he doesn’t have a typical social structure to work from either. If his parents, for instance, are anything like Hanzawa’s, it’s possible his conception of love between a couple is about devotion to remain together to fulfill a sense of status/purpose to create a new life. He would have zero concept of love that comes from the very depths of a person’s emotional being, a call and response that is as instinctive as it is fulfilling.)

Sasaki feels an intense desire to be close to Miyano, and thus acts accordingly because he trusts his feelings. On the other hand, he has trouble measuring the distance between himself and others. (e.g. he thinks he will lose his friends if they date, his sister acts like a parent but is also a kid and that makes it hard for him to know how to interact, he struggles to convey himself properly to Miyano when he brings up escalating to dating). Hirano, on the other hand, doesn’t realize the intensity of his affection and heartfelt proximity to Kagiura because he’s so busy tying himself up in knots over what he’s supposed to feel and think that he doesn’t trust his feelings. Rather, he is only given away by how obscenely his actions expose him. Comparatively, he has less trouble measuring the distance between himself and others when it comes to anyone but Kagiura.

(Perhaps obviously, Kagiura has Sasaki’s whole ‘if I don’t hug/kiss/bark at him I’ll die’ emotional expression and Miyano has the cautious measuring of distance between people and difficulty accepting gay like Hirano.)

God they’re both so quintessentially queer it hurts me. One can’t shut up about his love, and the other literally cannot open his mouth and express his feelings or he’ll die.

NARRATIVE FOILS EVERYONE

(Also unsure if it’s me but wow. They are so. Autism. And that also kills me akhfjldghjgdsfhkdfjhg)

#hirano to kagiura #sasaki to miyano #hirano taiga #sasaki shuumei #kagiura akira #miyano yoshikazu #hanzawa masato #if anyone manages to read through this i salute you #i just couldn't stop thinking about the two of them #mind you this is only what i noticed on a first reading of the manga #i can't guarantee i won't breach containment again upon a second reading i apologize in advance #AUGHGHGHGHGH [myriad agonized noises]#truly the sasamiya-verse exists to inflict emotional dmg on me #also all my love to everyone who's replied to my posts with such kind words/affirmations????#im not really used to fandoms that like analysis alhlgdhdkskhjasf #i found my people? it seems

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freckles-a-constellation · 3 months

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The Doctor is a tragic character in the best Greek tragedy tradition.

So y'all know how the most common driving factor for intelligence to develop in species is if they're social? (Octopi aren't very social but let's ignore that real quick, the Doctor's a vertebrate anyway so invertebrate intelligence can probably be dismissed as irrelevant) Because after a point, more intelligence isn't really needed to avoid danger or gather food. But more intelligence does make it possible to communicate more efficiently, form more complex social bonds, eventually develop culture. Cue why social species tend to be more intelligent than solitary ones of otherwise comparable lifestyle. And cue why humanity is the way it is.

Now look at Gallifreyans. (I am purposefully ignoring the Timeless Child thing bc I don't rlly believe it and besides, even assuming it's true, The Doctor is similar enough to Gallifreyans to have flawlessly believed himself/themselves/herself to be one for 13+ regenerations, so anything that can be concluded to be true from analysis of Gallifreyans has good basis to be presumed true about the Doctor, whatever the fuck semantics you wanna use) So, Gallifreyans. A species much more advanced than according to DW canon humanity will ever be. More intelligent than humanity. High levels of education and not on the basis of private tutoring. Lives in cities. Has complex language and technology capable of instantly translating pretty much any language of any other species to be understandable to them. (Hell the TARDIS consistently still translates shit to English for the companions while they're outside it.) Complex social structure. That's one fucking social species.

And it gets better. The TARDIS is meant to be operated by a team of six. And even if River was joking about six, it's still clear that it should at least be more than one. Compare the Doctor steering the TARDIS alone to when he was with Susan. I mean, even those two looked like they could use an extra hand. Have you ever seen a human private use vehicle designed with 2+ pilots in mind? Definitely a species more social than humanity.

And the telepathy thing? Hello? Insanely, mind-boggingly social species.

Now take a being this fundamentally social and do something to them so that they see no recourse other than to take one (1) same-species (as far as he was aware disclaimer ig) companion, steal a ship they have little to no clue how to pilot, leave everything and everyone they've ever known and run without ever stopping for breath, no matter how much they miss home, no matter if it hurts. (And I do believe something must have happened to make him run like that, since the beggining, way before the Time War) Have them be scorned, judged, punished, mistreated and rejected by their species, again and again, for ages. Have them love, again and again, only to always lose everyone they've cared about, through abandonment or death. Have them essentially be forced to exterminate their whole species and believe themselves to be the last of their kind, only to be proven wrong by the whole Master situation, which alright is better, but also in some ways is worse. Have them, once again, form deep bonds with companions and once again lose all of them in various varyingly tragic ways until they have no hope left that anyone can ever truly stay for any amount of time even close to satisfactory, that love can for them end in anything but loss and pain. And they can't even avoid love altogether in an effort to spare themselves the inevitable agony of losing loved ones, because they're incapable of not growing to care for those around them. And they can't be without company either, because their sanity goes straight to hell in a handbasket within like,, 5 minutes of being alone.

Let me remind you this is not a human we're talking about. It's a member of a species much more inherently social than humanity. My point?

The Doctor is literally more lonely than the human brain can comprehend.

#*shoves this at any and all unfortunate people*#doctor who #the doctor #classic who #nuwho #doctor who meta #or at least i think it is?#first doctor #war doctor #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #thoughts tm

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themotherofblood · 1 year

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Dear author, you don't know how happy I am to see that your ad requests are open. That said can I get an extremely romantic, overwhelming, passionate and rough smut with Daemon x Martell fem reader inspired by the song "Ang laga de", please?

you have no fucking idea how happy this ask made me, like kicking my legs and smiling like a lunatic happy. I have envisioned this very smut scene at least a hundred times. It is a little dark, both Daemon and Y/N are kinda crazy in this. Madly in love, literally

masterlist

smut, talks of murder, blood, loss of virginity, oral (f), more blood, fingering and evil daemon being a softie.

Daemon Targaryen x fem!Martell Reader

“I refuse to be your mistress!”

That is the last thing you had said to your beloved dragon prince.

The Dornish were said to be a shameless lot regardless, and here you fell for a married man.

The Rhoynish gods were laughing at your stupidity, there wasn’t even a lure placed for you to catch. You simply fell for him, hard.

What had been a month long endeavour to see your younger sister wed a distant Targaryen cousin. Turned to your own nightmare. You had never craved for something as much as you had Daemon Targaryen. His flirtatious deeds, bringing your flowers and trinkets had bouncing like a little girl. It was frustrating, you had tried courting before and yet it felt flat, you truly believed that men simply were not capable of pleasing you. Until he came along, him and that stupid red dragon that made you want Daemon even more

He became the thing you wanted to cry to the gods about, the sweets yours parents wouldn’t let you have or that fine silk dress that was far too big for you to wear. His niece Rhaenyra, also egged this fire further and not once had either of them mentioned that he was married! It was painful, really fucking painful, learning that his loyalty was sworn to another.

You’d spent nights unable to sleep on foreign beds, awake in the royal gardens of the Red Keep, where the prince kept you company till the sun graced the horizon and you had succumbed to slumber with your head in his lap. There was serenity, shared comfort that dwelled between the two of you. You had heard stories, counted first hand of the nights he’d spend in brothels with his whores. You didn’t care, you wanted him.

“I refuse to be your mistress.”

It was a lie, you would happily become his salacious secret should he have asked a second time. There was no dignity, no obligations or customs, to you there was just him and the one truth that boiled your blood hot. You had already given him a piece of you heart as you boarded the ship to return home. You wanted him to ask again, to whisk you away on his dragon and yet he allowed you the curtesy to return home with your honour intact.

“If there is anything the crown can provide for Dorne, do not hesitate.” Viserys coughed his words out as he presented his farewells to you in a crowded court

“Should I ask, you wouldn’t be able to provide it your grace.” You wandered, keeping your head low in respect for the man and your wants

“What is it that a king cannot provide,” Otto Hightower questioned, taking offence to your wording.

“Daemon Targaryen.” You stated, gasps echoed across the throne room. You had committed a crime, stained your honour for good. You didn’t care nor did you give Daemon a last look before boarding your ship.

Honour- what was it compared to feel of being in his arms? What was devotion if not sound of his voice relaying Valyrian poetry? What was love, if not your heart that drowned in his blood?

What was love- if not the letter of his wife’s untimely injury?

Rhea Royce, bedridden of her paralysis, remained frozen and useless to her husband.

There was much that Daemon Targaryen was capable of, much that you were capable of. The sheer fire that burned your passions would have soaked your own hands in Rhae Royce’s blood.

She didn’t love him.

You did.

Then came your brother, his stupid alliance and vengeance against the Targaryen’s was costing you your sanity, you had pleaded with him for weeks and then you succumbed to the insanity that perhaps there was venom in your heart for whoever kept you from your dragon prince.

It festered for days, the mirrors in your room painted with clay. Refusing to look at yourself until he laid eyes upon you as his wife.

You had sat at supper with your brother, his disappointment was clear. You wanted to lay with the enemy, if loving Daemon was treachery then you would happily lay your hands forwards retribution. There should have been sorrow, a searing burn of guilt- he was your family, your blood. You shared a cradle and a mother; nothing more. Your sweet brother, for now was thorn digging into your palm as you admired the flourishing bud of devotion. He had to be plucked out.

The forbidden subject was brought up once more, there wasn’t a request in sight but a demand from his brazen sister.

“Let me be his, let him have me.” A prayer, Qoren grew irate over your insolent behaviour.

He loved you dearly, his sweet sister who was blinded by the rage of love. He wouldn't allow it, claiming to chain you to your chamber if you made an attempt to contact him. You said nothing as you nibbled on your food, spatters of blood dripped onto your pie. You could feel your throat constricting and yet it was nothing compared to the agony you had been in without Daemon.

Qoren coughed profusely, blood dripping from his nose as his eyes widened at your betrayal. In truth he had betrayed you first, choosing to keep you away from the one thing you had ever truly wanted. You could taste the copper on your lips, corners of your eyes welling with tears as you ripped the small pendant from your neck; even with the antidote to the poison in your system. The despair never stopped.

An unpleasant event truly, yet what was anyone to do, Qoren had no heirs and your blood-bled mustard. In the true picture of your house’s words, you remained unbent; raging on in sheer will for one man.

Even tainted in blood, you wore white for him; to remain pure, awaiting him to paint you in the colours of his house

He will return for me, for my love

There was no assurance that he would fly to you, no evidence that Rhae Royce’s accident wasn’t a mere coincidence; yet your arrogance had you rubbing rose oil onto your skin.

My dragon would return to me, you were sure of it.

For days the men sworn to the Martells had sighted the skies day and night, all in hopes of seeing a red dragon looming over the palace. The very ladies that had dressed you since you were a child urged for you to see reason, men often toyed with naive noble ladies for their amusement. He hadn't toyed with you, you were his cherished doll, one he stole because he simply could.

“Princess,” A young squire heaved, a folded parchment in between his fingers. Sealed with a three-headed dragon.

Your wish was my command princess.

Even without a name, the curls on his lettering were indicative enough an answer for you.

He had indeed harmed Rhea Royce for you, just as you had killed your brother Qoren for him. In your heart, you knew he would find you soon; just as your orders for exotic flowers and wines were distributed to merchants, people in your household began to whisper of your delusions.

Then the black skies graced your hopes, almost taunting all those who questioned your faith in him. The moon, full as is lit the ocean in its milky glow, from those very black skies came your faith. Loud whistles of a dragon echoed through Old Palace. Yet another young squire mumbled out in laboured breaths.

You smiled to yourself as your ladies sat in silent shock, their efforts in dressing you in white and gold would bear fruit tonight. Their feet sprung to action, the jangles from their anklets were muffled in your ears, and you just smiled to yourself. You hiked you skirts up as you skipped down the corridor, the jangles on your gold anklets seemed to have been cursing everybody who questioned you.

The doors to the Old Palace opened as Daemon Targaryen rode in on horseback, and along with him came a small entourage. He sat tall atop his horse, finally a Targaryen worthy of conquering Dorne. You were sure your ancestors were screaming bloody murder, shunning you and wishing you ill will, and yet as you stood at the enterance of the Old Palace, your father’s name meant nothing infront of the man you loved.

“In a bustling court you asked for me, may all see; I have arrived.” Daemon proclaimed as he stood with his arms out. You feet hurried down the steps, hoping to grace him with an eternal embrace and yet he raised his hand to stop you dead in your tracks

“I applaud you, for a devotion even I was unknown to. You stripped yourself bare of your honour and dignity for a relationship you had no right over.” He retorted, you couldn’t understand was her perturbed? Is that what he was here for, to lecture you?

“What reasoning do you have for this madness?”

“Love.” You stated, even the word in itself felt lacking for the true tempest that swirled in your environs. It had to be bigger, all consuming.

“The one revolts against the mightiest of dragons, that love,” You walked towards him “The one that fearlessly professes her devotion at court, that love.”

“When she sees her beloved and forgets her family, that love.” You eyes glossed over, consuming your skin in wild fire, begging him to claim you already

His hands harshly grasped your forearms, shaking sense into your as he spoke.

“The Faith and my brother’s court will never see you as one of theirs,” He warned.

“I accept.” You smiled.

“Marrying me would have you walking on fire!” He reasoned, hoping you would back away; a flower far to delicate for him to touch. He would give his life for you to not wither.

“I accept.” You nodded.

“I have a wife, Rhea.” He grimaced at the thought of his bronze bitch “I shall never be able to provide you the title of my first wife.” His hand trailed up to hold your cheek, stroking away the moisture that had looked below your eyes.

“Taking my name as yours will bring nothing but notoriety.” He kissed you cheek.

“I accept.”

“Then let it be known, the world would remember us as one,” He moved backwards gesturing towards the priest in his entourage.

“The Watergardens,” You stated, gesturing your servants to lead the priest to the location.

Daemon had allowed you moments alone, your household torn over what was happening. While many sighed in relief, perhaps you would finally eat; let life make your skin glow yet again. The storm gave away and your lamp was still burning bright. He presented you with a head piece made of khaki cloth, amber and rubies with stray pieces of shells. You handmaidens were quick with it, pinning it onto your hair as Daemon made his arrangements. Caraxes looked over the Watergardens, whistling just as ecstatically as his rider as he perched himself on the beach mount.

The universe seemed to have been in agreement of your emotions, the wind on the beach picked up; cooling your overwhelmed and hot skin. The skies were clear, twinkling in stars and the full moon as the complimented the low tided waves crashing ashore. Your own servants had been quick, decorating the gardens with yellow and red candles and exotic Bravosi flower arrangements placed on vases. Daemon awaited you by the shore line.

Your hands held a dhanuchi, clay burners that held sizzling coal pieces accompanied with sandalwood. You hiked your skirts up, walking towards Daemon, counting your steps as your bare feet hit the sand, you were trying your hardest to breathe; he stood their awaiting you looking as galant as the day he received you at the Blackwater ports, it was from that day you knew your fate would be painted black in his name.

Daemon turned, toying with a black obsidian dagger as his eyes softened the second he saw you. He held his hand out for you take as you stopped next to him, placing the dhanuchi at the alter.

“This will hurt,” He whispered, gesturing to the dragon glass daggers. You shook your head, no pain would compare to the three moons you had spent without him. He lifted the edge against your bottom lip, drawing blood as he gently slashed a cut, he guided your hands to do the same. The taste of copper filled your mouth, a stinging sensation ran through your lips; one you knew would only soothe once you felt his lips on yours.

Blood of two, joined as one

You cut a gash on your palm, wincing as blood trickled to the surface; Daemon did the same with his before grasping your bloodied palm within his. The priest wrapped a silk across your palms, your lover’s lilac eyes held concern for your pains and yet wild adoration. You were to be his. Blood began to trickle into the cup of wine placed under you as the priest continued.

Ghostly flame and a song of shadows

Daemon marked your forehead with his blood, you followed his lead as the priest instructed the symbol you drew, he then offered you the cup of wine laced with your blood. You eyes never once left Daemon’s as you sipped on the strong wine before giving him the cup to do the same.

Two hearts as embers, forged in the fourteen fires

His hands came to rest at your cheek, both growing restless of the vows as he wiped the dripping blood from your lips.

A future promised in glass, the stars stand witness.

You pulled yourself closer to him, one might say you were dazed from the blood loss, in truth it was Daemon’s lilac eyes, how his hands caressed your skin. The wanting fires that engulfed the alter seeming leave everything in ashes but the two of you.

The vows spoken through time, of light and darkness.

He whispered along with the priest.

There was no shame in the way your lips crashed against one another, you tasted his blood on your tongue and yet his hands scorched your skin, almost consuming your body whole as his hands wandered everywhere as his lips claimed you. A stray tear fell from your eyes as your held onto his face, letting his tongue explore yours. You couldn’t breathe from the passion of it all, not that you cared; you life was now his to do with as he pleased.

You rested on Daemon’s lap as he lounged on your window bed, working a healers poultice on the cut of his palm, still lingering in the after effects of wedding. His hands gently returned the favour as he wrapped yours in gauze, you prayed that it would scar; it was a testament for your devotion.

“There- all fixed sweet wife.” Daemon whispered, nudging his nose against your cheek. Heat immediately rose to you cheek as you looked away, you were his wife.

You shuffled off of him, you walked to the steaming dhanuchi that you had carried back to your bed chambers, you bed chambers smelled sweet from it aroma. You had lit in hopes of being blessed by the fertitly goddess, that your marriage remaind pure and secure for eternity. You pushed you skirts always as you climbed onto your bed, letting the steam grace and bless your bed with your unconditional wish.

You dropped the burner on the floor after, letting it submerge the room in its sweet smoke. You awaited your husband as he rid himself of his tunic, you shuffled closer as you sat on your knees. Admiring his toned body and taking account for every battle scar on his skin that you would spend the rest of your life healing with your love.

“Will- will you bed me now, husband?” You whispered, your lips dangerously closer to his, begging for another kiss.

“Oh, I plan to do more than just bedding you.” His lips moulded against yours once more as his hands tugged on the ties of your blouse.

“I conquer Dorne tonight,” He teased, peppering kisses to your temple down to you cheek. He pushed you back on the bed, almost immediately pouncing on top.

He grasped your wrists with one hand, pushing them above your head as he laid siege upon your neck. Laying warm- wet kisses and bruising nips at your neck; his hair tickling at your bare skin as your squirmed underneath him. There was no reasoning to the gentle throb that began pulsing at your core- you rubbed your thigh closer to make it halt. He pushed aside your unlaced blouse, your chest heaved as he suckled on your breast, pulling and licking the hardening pebble in his mouth.

You back arched if the bed, pushing your chest into his mouth, small open mouthed gasps left your mouth as his fingers danced past your navel; yanking on the fastening strings of skirts. His hands pushing your skirts and small clothes down at once, unwrapping you like present as your laid in his ordered positioning.

You succumbed to your exposure, you moved your head in shame, opting to look out at the glaring moon as it witnessed your de-flowerinng. Daemon took offence to your actions, using his fingers to guide your chin towards him as he groaned in disapproval.

“Three moons apart and you dare look away from me?” Daemon cocked his brow at you, freeing your hands as he ventured lower on your body.

“I- forgive me, my prince.” You whispered, your lungs refraining you from speaking any louder

“Husband,” He corrected as he pushed you legs apart.

“Husband.” You mewled in shame as his fingers stroked your folds that looked by the minute. His lips latched onto your inner left thigh, sucking and nipping at the skin.

All the while his eyes remained devious yet absurdly comforting, the two fingers that drew circles on your thighs or a small groans he left against your skin, indicative of how much he was truly enjoying himself. Just for his own satisfaction he marked your thighs at several spots, leaving darkening marks for you to reminisce over in the coming fortnight.

You felt intoxicated, revelling in the way his tongue wet your outer folds before indulging in the saccharine delight that was your cunt, a shameless moan echoed through your bed chambers as you felt his tongue flicking at a much sensitive spot. He moaned against your mound the second your taste hit his tongue.

His palm, large enough to lay flat over your soft belly to hold you flush a against the bed as he took his liberties, lapping at your like his last meal had been consumed days before. His eyes bore into yours, his own demeanour turning to command, strumming the pleasures of your body to his own rhythm.

“Such a sweet delight,” He complimented, mostly to distract you from his finger easing into your tightness. You immediately clenched down on the intrusion. “This shall ease the discomfort.” He elaborated before spitting onto your folds

Your head fell backwards in shame, focusing on the comforting caresses in your torso as Daemon plunged his finger in knuckle deep. You couldn't take the prolonging tasks no longer. You whined, pawing at Daemon’s trousers.

“Please, please have me already.” You begged, you wanted to feel him within you. You could careless of the pain or discomfort, you just wanted to be one

“Take them off,” He instructed, your hands immediately worked on unbuttoning his pants, before digging your fingers into her rear to pull them down. His cock- that thing hung pliant between his legs. Part of you looked up at him curiously, and the other half wondered how your envious would engulf such a monstrosity. Your eyes silently asked for permission, to which Daemon simply stroked your hair as your wrapped your hand around the warm appendage. You were unsure of what to do.

“Stroke it, gently.” He guided you as you followed, feeling his cock twitch in your hands as you moved your hands back and forth. His tip soon glistened in moisture leaking from within. All Daemon could think of were your sweet lips wrapped around his cock and yet there was an eternity to teach you of the pleasures of the flesh. “Good girl,” He cooed.

He urged you to lay back against the pillows, working his length to harden to its full potential. He hesitated, having taken many maiden heads before, he needed this to be delicate as he tore through yours. He circled his tip at your sensitive rose bud before pushing at your entrance. You gasped out loud, letting you arms wrap around his shoulders as he inched forwards.

The stretch of his efforts shot a stinging sche through your pelvis, and he halted. Kissing your cheek and cooing at you in an attempt to alleviate even a fraction of the discomfort you were in. He advanced all the way in, hoping to let your ride out the waves of pain; you cried out louder and yet there was a little more left to go

“Look at me, just me. I shall make it better.” He groaned, hoping to suppress his own pleasures that coursed through his body, your tightness strangling his cock with threats of nearly milking him dry before anything had even begun. He felt selfish for feeling bliss as you silently wept underneath him, he caressed your cheek, the thing he held onto as his lips kissed your face. Peppering kisses to your forehead and your lips, over and over again as he inched forward

“Dae-” You shrieked as he finally bottomed out within you, the pressure of the stretch making your eyes well in more tears. You pulled yourself closer to him, trying to muffle your weeps on the crook of his neck. His arm reaches under you to support your neck. His deeper voice whispered encouragements as he awaited you to adjust to the pain.

“Look at how well you take me,” He whispered in between kisses that he pressed in your temples “Made just for me, aren't you? My sweet little wife.”

“Just for you,” You sniffled, letting yourself rest back against the pillows.

There was a humiliating familiarity in the way your aches encouraged your actions, you shuffled underneath him. Hoping to get him to move and yet he solely focused on doting on your body.

“Husband-” You whimpered, making his eyes shoot to you as they were focused on where the two of you were connected just moments before. He hummed in acknowledgement

“Can you- um please.” You stuttered, almost frustrated at yourself for losing your wording this easy.

“You have to tell me sweet wife, show me what you need.” He asked, urging his will into your answer.

“Please move- I need you to move.” You requested, he smiled before angling his hips backwards; hissing wantonly in the process and you mewled under him. There was pain within the first few thrusts and yet the deranged tendencies of your blood milked pleasure from the pain that subsided to a subtle pressure in your belly.

Daemon lost his composure, uttering vulgarities in your ear; the most obscene of sentences paired with the sweets of names he had picked for you.

“Perfect little hole, taking me so well,” He’d compliment one minute.

“Should have fucked this cunt the first day I laid eyes on you sweet girl,” The next he’d complain of the things he’d regretted.

He held your jaw, a feral smirk adoring his lips as he took your apart, your bangles clicking as your body bounced with his determined thrusts.

“Daemon!” You shrieked, such hurtful pleasure causing you to bed for such sinful things

“Just like that, scream your husband’s name.” He grunted, “Let all of Dorne know who owns this pretty body. Go on tell me.”

“You do, you do.” Cries poured from your lips as you held onto his forearms. “My Daemon,” You moaned as pulled yourself up to kiss his lips.

“Yes, yes sweet girl. All yours.” His deviant smile widened. Your cunt began to flutter around him, such flattery could mean just one thing as Daemon pushed his pelvis against yours, his thrusts grinding at your nub.

“That’s it, just lay there and take my seed,” He growled, his playing again harshly grasping your jaw to make you look at him.

“Dae- Daemon!” The ever impending storm began to paw at your insides,

Not long now- “I want it, I want babes and so much more. Please, please.” You begged to hope that itch would finally give way, and so it did. With no warning and only a scream of your husband’s name, your body erupted in ecstasy.

Daemon groaned out loud, muttering praises of your name, good girl, his sweet girl. Yes, you were. All for him as you loomed on a cloud perched high above the ground, you only registered Daemon’s thrusts faltering and warm filling your core, and then you felt Daemon’s caresses on your skin as you coaxed your heaving body to stability.

“Still with me?” He whispered against your hair and all you could muster was a lazy nod against his chest. You hissed feeling his cock leave your opening, he pushed you through it all. Letting his body weight do the work for you as he pulled himself to sit up along with you.

You finally opened your eyes, blinking away stray tears as he wiped at the trails of moisture on your cheeks. He bundled your exhausted body against his as he lifted you off your bed, walking you along to your chaise before wrapping a spare blanket against both your bodies, almost rocking your vulnerable body to a humming under his breath.

Maids poured into the clear martial bed, they all frowned at the image of their beloved Lady Martell curled against a dragon without a care as you nuzzled against him. Daemon snapped his fingers at them as they began to carry the bloodied sheets away, gesturing to the corner of the room for them to leave it behind. He planned to gift it to his brother’s council, as a warning.

There was nothing anybody could refuse Daemon Targaryen from- that and that he had a new wife. A wife of his choice, a wife he intended on loving until his death bed.

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chronicoverthinker · 2 months

Text

So uhm since people are talking about my tiktok I’m actually kinda upset about two things :

1-them saying that I’m accusing mokmoklen of queerbaiting when I’ve literally put a GIANT red disclaimer saying that I am in no way accusing the author since the story it’s still ongoing and I was just going to make a rundown of what the author has done recently that has made many upset with the recent chapter

2-that after reading my 30 slides all they’ve got was me saying that the queerbaiting is because Yoshiki’s ancestor is a woman WHICH IS NOT THE CASE AT ALL.

What has actually upset many , me included with hikarugashindaupdates as well who’s a dear friend of mine , is how mokmoklen has been backtracking from the original idea of the story and is now trying to erase all the subtext and implications of their feelings for one another.

When the story first started it was advertised as BL and horror , and the kind of dynamic she wanted to develop for Yoshiki and Hikaru was way different compared to what we got now (I talked about this in detail in my video so if you wanna know more look it up).

Around the beginning of volume 3 a shift happened. It first started with mokmoklen deciding to remove the BL tag , which tbh at that time still didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Especially to me , I’ve always felt like the story didn’t need to specifically be categorized as BL for Yoshiki and Hikaru’s feelings to shine through.

But then she started to make clear how “Hikaru” CANT whatsoever feel or understand human love.

Now this is where the first problems start , because in the first volumes you can clearly see that THIS is not the case AT ALL.

And it’s not proven only by his overall behavior in the story , but also from the art she used to post.

To be fair I wouldn’t even been mad about Yoshiki’s ancestor being a woman if you told me in volume 1 , because to me it was clear that Yoshiki and Hikaru loved each other.

And fundamentally speaking , since the story is still ongoing , I know that Yoshiki’s ancestor being a woman doesn’t really take anything from the possibility of Yoshiki and “Hikaru” still ending up together. But what truly upsets me about this it’s the intentions and the meaning behind this choice.

Plus the fact that mokmoklen made it clear that now Yoshiki doesn’t feel anything for “Hikaru”. It also worries me how she still hasn’t made Yoshiki open up about his feelings for the real Hikaru either. It’s as if what was so clear to us in the first volume is now being precluded to us for whatever reason.

Hikaru and Yoshiki’s love for each other and their homosexuality is one of the main points that makes them who their are and why they act in certain ways. Their struggles to accept their orientations in a closeted and homophobic village are what makes them such layered and complex characters.

And I literally concluded by saying that I do NOT believe that if this ever turns out to be queerbaiting she ever intended for any of this to happen since the beginning. Something is going on in her life because she has delated most of her BL works on her private accounts

#the summer hikaru died #hikaru ga shinda natsu #hgsn

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