#i hate job hunting so much its fucking unreal!
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the resume autofill feature for job applications is. So Useful.
#whats the point of making a fucking resume when every damn online application makes you manually fill everything in anyway!!!!#i hate job hunting so much its fucking unreal!
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disney+ & bust
this is part of my netflix & chill collection !
summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door.
warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf
miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans
word count; 13k !!
notes;
me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER
please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3
previous part: kissanime & foreplay
Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.
He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.
Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.
And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.
On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.
You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.
Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)
He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.
The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.
As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.
However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.
“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.
Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.
Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.
However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.
Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.
You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.
All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.
“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”
“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.
Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.
You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”
Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.
“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”
He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”
Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.
You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”
You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”
From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”
You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.
He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.
The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”
You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”
The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”
It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.
With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.
Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.
Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.
Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.
So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.
Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.
All men do is lie.
Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.
You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.
You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.
Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.
Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.
Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.
You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.
You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.
Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.
Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.
You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.
You don’t laugh.
Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.
“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.
Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.
You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.
“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.
Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”
Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”
For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”
Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.
You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.
When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”
At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”
You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”
“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?”
“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”
He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”
You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.
Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”
You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.
Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”
“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.
“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.
You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.
A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.
The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.
“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.
It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”
“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”
“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“
“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”
With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.
Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.
“No,” you respond.
You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.
As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.
Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?
You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.
You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care
—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.
You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.
There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.
It’s not.
It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.
The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).
He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”
You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.
“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.
Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.
By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?
You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.
“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.
“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.
“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”
His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.
Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.
Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”
You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.
“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”
“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.
He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”
You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”
“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”
He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”
You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.
Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”
He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.
When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.
With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.
He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.
By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)
Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.
Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.
You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.
Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.
You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”
You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.
The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.
You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”
Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”
His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.
Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”
You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”
He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”
You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.
“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”
Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”
His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”
He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”
Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.
Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.
Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”
You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.
He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence.
Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.
It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.
Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”
“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.
“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”
Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”
“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”
Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.
You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”
He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”
After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.
You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.
Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”
You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.
“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”
A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.
“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.
“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.
You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”
He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.
Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”
Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“
Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.
You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.
“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”
You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.
While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.
The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.
Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.
Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.
And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.
(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)
But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”
Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”
Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.
“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.
Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”
“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.
A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”
“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.
“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”
His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.
Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”
“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.
Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”
You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”
Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”
You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.
“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.
“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”
You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”
Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”
You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”
Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”
Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”
“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.
Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.
Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”
“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”
“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.
You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.
He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.
You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.
“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.
You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”
Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.
You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.
Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.
Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.
Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”
“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.
Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”
He loves you so much it aches.
“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”
A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.
You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.
Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”
You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”
Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”
A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.
With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.
“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.
“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.
It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.
There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.
He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.
A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.
“Impossible,” he scoffs.
Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.
“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.
You nod. “Please.”
He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.
You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.
“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.
Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”
epilogue
commercial break one ; the resolution
Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
#goldenclosetnet#networkbangtan#bangtanhq#ksmutclub#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook smut#jeon jeongguk smut#jjk smut#jeongguk smut#bts smut#jjk♡#jeon jungkook#mine
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Thoughts/ Background The Deathly Hallows Part Two
The introduction music is so haunting. The castle in all its glory is haunted by dementors and fog. Snape is solitary. Everything is singular and empty on the grounds. The only color we see at Hogwarts during this time is during the final battle when McGonagall pushes Harry out of the way, and we see that flash of fire from her wand. That’s when you know stuff is about to kick off.
Griphook sounds so lost as to why Harry would bury Dobby. The divide between creatures and wizards, between goblins and wizards has gotten so great that neither side even thinks to assume that the other possesses even the smallest hint of kindness or humility. This is a fic all in itself.
What are the goblins stake in the sword? What is with the mention of the tiara in the books? I feel like Rowling had more to say about this topic, but for some reason she didn’t.
I hate that Fleur seems to be so meek in this movie. I want her to be this badass fighter chick, the kind of person who the Goblet of Fire would chose once again to play one of the most challenging games ever, the kind of person who would leave her country and family for an amazing opportunity and adventure, but her character wasn’t given much time or space to be free to show itself in that manner.
Wandlore is super fascinating. Is there a book about wandlore? Like a companion book like Quidditch Through the Ages? I feel like there should be.
It looks like that is a quilt patch behind Harry’s head. It would have been a gift from Mrs. Weasley.
It always bothered me that Luna was just like, “Yeah, I’m going back to school.” They just locked her butt up in the dungeons, and then she decides to go back to a school where the people who locked her up are currently in power and could torture her for information about the whereabouts of Harry Potter, the person she literally just escaped with. I think, that’s why this scene was cut from the final cut of the basic DVD versions.
Ron is so quick here to be like, “They suspect us. They suspect us.” But the silence doesn’t go on for that long. It feels like someone with such an iron gut gets antsy really quickly, and not antsy like sweating a bit, but antsy like he’s about to start crying. It just seems weird. One of the basic security measures to the bank might be that they have like a gas that leaks through that makes people feel paranoid or something like that. You want to get 200 galleons out, but what happens if you get robbed on the way out the door? Better to only get 100, thus keeping money in the bank under the goblins eyes. It would help keep out thieves as well, petty and otherwise.
None of the other goblins think that something is off with the behavior of this one goblin who seems to be in a positon of authority?
Goblins are keyed into the various vaults? Which means that they could seal them at any time as well, right? Is this in the books?
Hermione, baby, your Gryffindor is showing, and it is SEXY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Lol
Those goblins are like, “Assume the fire breathing position.”
You can see how deep down they are. And I know this isn’t real, but to think that that dragon would have only had that small opening of real light shining down on it all that time is truly depressing.
Litearlly, they all deserve to bite it after what that dragon was put through.
“And he’s homicidal.”
“We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose.” I feel that.
I always assumed that Voldemort when to Gringotts and killed the goblins. But no, he summoned them to Malfoy Manor, and then killed them. Why would he do it like that?
That mirror is rectangular, but I always envisioned the mirrors as being circular.
Why does Aberforth tell them that the Order is finished? He knows that it isn’t. This whole speech of his is very demoralizing. But Harry dgaf…..
This, “I trusted the man I knew” attitude is why Harry named one of his children Albus Severus.
Hermione is the one who asks questions of Aberforth, and yet, he directly responds to Harry. I always thought that was odd.
And Aberforth has been helping them the whole time? Then why the speech?
Neville badass Longbottom.
Another nod to the books.
I wanted some more information about what was going on in Hogwarts while Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on the run. I wanted to hear more about what Dumbledore’s Army were getting up to while the others were hunting horcruxes. There were tasters of it in the book, but I would have loved to have had more of it tbh.
Fact: Neville’s plant from five is the mascot for the Hogwart’s resistance.
“She gots lost of those, hasn’t she?” This line from Seamus at the very beginning of this movie just made it so perfect. This movie is a gosh dang masterpiece.
Snape had such a hard job. I mean, I know people hate on Snape, and I can understand their reasoning, but I have a soft spot for the man. Maybe I read too much fanfiction because fanfic!Snape and canon!Snape are two very different individuals.
Harry’s name among these students is the stuff of legend. The way they all look around and start talking carries that spark of hope that good rumors sometimes have.
Harry, “Perfect timing group.”
People back up when Harry faces Snape. People move the hell out of dodge when McGonagall draws her wand.
Snape takes out the two Carrows behind him before he apparates out of the school.
Padma gets zero dances at the Yule Ball, and then Voldemort invades her mind. Great.
Pansy, my darling, there is a time to speak and there is a time to stay silent. Read the room.
Filch, ditto.
Why do all of the magical, “evil” Slytherins allow Filch, a squib, to lock them up?
Even the portraits are getting out of there.
All the kids in the background are completely flummoxed.
“Boom!”
Say that five times fast. No, say it once without messing up and you get to be bff’s with Maggie Smith.
This spell is sick, this music is sick, McGonagall is a queen. When I saw this in theater, my skin got goose pimples. “Do your duty for our school!” It is just so amazing, and iconic. This whole scene makes me feel so empowered, and pumped like I’m about to head into battle, like I’m about to defend my home and my life.
My thoughts on the diadem and the other founders objects can be found in a post that I made. My thoughts are strong, and though they aren’t canon, they are still unspoken canon.
Voldemort is like, “I was about to monologue. Why you speaking to me?”
“You okay, Freddie?” Don’t come at me like that, writers.
We all died laughing in the theater when Ron said that. “Harry talks in his sleep.” Harry only speaking parseltongue when around snakes theory is still enforced when you think about the snake Pettigrew sneaking around the whole time.
Exactly why the fuck does Remus need Tonks more than her small child? I never understood this line, and I never liked them as a couple. Thought the book version was creepy, and the movie version unrealized.
Some movies really don’t need to be split into two for the ending *Divergent trilogy* but this one really benefitted from having two films. I wouldn’t want this huge battle scene and character plot and humor to be lost.
No one thinks to cast a spell to catch Neville??? This is like the first flying lesson all over again.
Go, Mr. Weasley, you are on fire.
Kingsley, whip their arses with that fancy shit. LET’S GO!!!!!!
Harry reached out to Ginny first. This movie is so lacking in any real chemistry between these two actors and characters that it is almost painful. This is one instance, that I never noticed before, that makes all of their other interactions less cringey to watch.
Neville almost died on that bridge. He might as well tell Luna how he feels. I love this and can fully ship canon book couples with canon movie couples at the same time. Thank you very much.
That kiss between them is so weird. I just can’t.
Hermione in this scene is proof that men rattle your brain with smooches. Lol
So, if you are using the room of requirement for something, and someone who already has been in that same room, and wants it for the same reason that you do, they can get in as well? But not if they want it for the same reason, which is why Umbridge couldn’t be get it in Order of the Phoenix.”
There are so many Easter eggs in this scene in the ROR. You can see a chess piece from 1, pixies from 2. It just enforces my headcanon that the house elves use the ROR as a sort of dumping ground for the random stuff that they find at the school.
Harry is so gosh dang blasé about seeing Draco again. He’s just like, “What’s up, dude?” He is not concerned in the slightest that he has three wands pointed at him right now. They are just causally chatting about whose wand each other has got.
The statue of the pig right behind Harry and Hermione. It would make sense Voldemort would try to totally remake Hogwarts, and I think that would go into removing those odd little things that make the castle a bit quirky. The castle looks bleak and unnaturally bland compared to the other movies. It would make sense that he would want statues of hogs also taken out.
You see the lanterns that Slughorn had at his Christmas party.
Why is the fire morphing into different animals? The phoenix attacks Draco, Blaise, and Goyle, the tiger chases Ron and Hermione, and then the snake goes after Harry. And then they all converge on the trio? Why make it animals? Is there any significance to this? I never noticed that they were actually animals before.
Finding the brooms perfect. Saving them perfect. Killing the horcrux then kicking it into the flames. Perfect.
The music while the trio are fighting to get to boat house is so haunting and lovely and it’s like it calls to every nostalgic atom in your body.
Really, death eater, you’ve got time to stop and cast the cruciatus on someone in the middle of this warzone?
I love that Hermione was the one to blast Fenrir away from Lavender. So touching.
Aberforth, Mr. IT IS ALL GOING TO END HORRIBLY WHY EVEN TRY, has enough hope and good memories to cast away that many dementors. Yeah, he’s fake.
Voldemort just doesn’t like that Snape is taller than him.
I just wanted a touch of the friendship that was expressed between Lily and Snape in the book. Harry understood it, and said it perfectly at the end of book seven. I wanted some of that to translate to screen. It wasn’t just because Snape had some weird crush on her it was because they were friends, best friends. Ron and Harry and Hermione friendship. The next time someone comes at me with that bull I’m just going to refer them back to the facts.
This is probably the first time that Snape had ever been allowed to really look at Harry as a person rather than someone who is supposed to hate him. It is the first time that he could be unguarded around him.
Snape hired more healers. Why else would they be there? He knew that with the group in charge that as in power, that they would be needed.
I can’t stand this barrage of lost souls. It is painful, and I get flashbacks from when I read the book for the first time, and the pages were covered in my tears.
It doesn’t look like Snape even has anything in this office. It looks barren. He knew he had no time to get comfortable in his position.
That tree is beautiful.
I love their friendship. I will always love their friendship.
Look at Snape and all those books. Lily and Snape, the studious, top of their year duo with the Marauders who eschew libraries but still manage to succeed. I don’t need to think hard to imagine the rivalry. In fact, I did imagine it, and wrote some down in the thing, message me if you would like part of the thing.
Hermione knew, or at least, strongly suspected that Harry was going to have to do what he sets off to accomplish, for sure.
I love that when Harry walked into the forest to face down death that he had these people, these guardians, these people who at one point or another swore to protect this boy with everything that they have get to be the ones that are with him at the end just like at the beginning. Things are different for them, and different from how they thought it would be when Harry was born into this world, but they still kept their promise.
“Does it hurt?” This is something that a child asks. We forget that Harry, here, is only supposed to be 17 years old, that’s a kid. Added to that, you have the very real
“We’re here, you see?” Perfect.
“Stay close to me?” “Always.”
My thoughts mean nothing in the perfection of this scene.
Hagrid is still looking out for Harry’s best interest. He is the only adult worth a flip in more than half of these films.
“The boy who lived come to die.”
I know Dumbledore is like, “The man” here, and the mentor or whatever, but I would have really have liked to have the person who met Harry at Kings Cross had been Snape especially after harry had just learned the truth. Way more dynamic.
Narcissa straight up lied to the most dangerous wizard ever. She deserved that pardon for her family. All she wanted was out, and to take care of her son, and I respect that. Don’t give a dang for the rest of the world when they would gladly let you burn. Take care of number one even when number one is a group instead of a single entity.
You hear that noise when Neville picks up the hat, and if you read the books, you know what he just found. He was out there preparing and scouting for another battle, and Hogwarts rewarded him.
Hagrid carrying in Harry’s body was so painful to watch. Visually, there little death parade plus the music just puts you in this anxious state. Pinpricks.
The acting by Bonnie Wright here is superb. The lack of chemistry is not equally weighted on her shoulders.
Luna looks at Draco like she is sick. Then like she is sad. I hate it. She was wishing for something else there for sure.
The way Dean Thomas looks at Voldemort in this scene is the way that I feel about that weird af hug.
Voldemort has to restrain himself from killing Neville on the spot for interrupting him.
Neville has never in the course of these movies failed to speak when needed. He stood up to the trio in 1, and he spoke up against Seamus and nearly everyone else in the common room in Ootp. Neville stands up for what is right.
All of those death eaters are like, “Fuck! This boy came back to life again? What are the Dark Lord’s AK’s broken? Nevermind, fuck this shit, I’m out.”
That music when Neville regains consciousness. YES!
See, if Voldemort didn’t play with his food, he might have won.
NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!!!! When I say people cheered and screamed in the theater when Molly said and did this epic shit I ain’t kidding. IT WAS AND STILL IS ONE OF THE MOST ICONIC HP QUOTES OF ALL TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ONE OF THE BEST, MOST EMPOWERING QUOTES!!!!!!! We all want Molly Weasley to have our backs like this.
The whole ending of this movie is LEGENDARY!!!! I went to the midnight showing for the release of this movie with a bunch of other diehards, and seeing Neville cut the head off of the snake, and watching Harry finally beat Voldemort with the elder wand. I mean, we were literally just in such a state of excitement and yes and hallelujah, it was insane.
Neville and Luna. I see y’all.
Percy is talking to Arthur, reconciling.
That guy behind Cho is definitely about to shoot his shot with someone.
Filch, bless his heart.
Ron and Hermione. Harry knows. Harry blesses this union. Harry has been the number one ship captain this whole time, and now he is rewarded.
I like that Harry snapped the wand in the movie. See, if book Harry had snapped the wand, the Cursed Child would have never graced our consciousness with its heteronormative agenda. Scorbus is life. Fight me.
This series has had such a serious impact on me. I love it. I spend hours upon hours inside of this universe every day as beloved fanfiction writers play inside of it’s territory. It made me a reader. It helped me when I wasn’t sure what was next for me in life. It gave me entertainment and enjoyment, and still does. I love it, and I hope that I always will. We cling to the thought of magic because we hope that it is really, we hope that like in this world where there is magic that cannot be easily be explained exists. We hope that in our world, too, there is that same kind of magic that can wrap itself around us.
I think that kind of magic is real. I just think that we have to look for it, remember it, talk about, cherish it, and spread it around for others who have forgotten to look for it themselves. And great literature, like this series, helps us to do that.
That is why it will be remembered for generations to come. At least, if I have anything to say about it.
#Harry Potter#Harry Potter and the deathly hallows part two#Harry Potter thoughts#Harry Potter anaysis#Harry Potter background#harry potter meta
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THE SACRED TEXTS!! EPISODE 2
So I finished Season 2 of Clone Wars(2008) ~the end of last week and, while it def improves on some of the problems of s1, it then has all sorts of OTHER problems of its own, so I kinda consider it A Wash, in general :T
the highlights:
Season to Season, there’s a lot more F U N in s2. I just LOVE how Crunchy and Genre it is. The stand outs, to me, were the zombies/bodysnatchers in the Brain Invader arc, the King Kong Kaiju story in the Zillo Beast arc(complete with an origin in environmental devastation), and, of course, the loving homage to/mashup of Die Hard&Lassie that is R2 Come Home, which basically had me laughing from start to finish. The other attempts at genre eps generally fell flat(though Holocron Heist has one very good moment with the unsuspecting droid-bomb, and the specific submarine bits of the submarine ep, Cat and Mouse, were well done).
They really nailed the “Ahsoka’s problems are because of Anakin’s influence” bit in this season. There aren’t a LOT of eps that touch on this(I can only really think of one, really, Cargo of Doom) but they absolutely bullseye it in that one. They also do a better job of fleshing out Anakin and Ahsoka’s dynamic&how that can act as both a strength and a weakness, though I do feel they could have done a better job with it(for instance, the last 3rd or 4th of Weapons Factory, where Ahsoka and Bariss are trapped within the ruins of the factory, should have been a whole episode on its own; this would have been a great opportunity to focus on this&do some character work)
This season repeatedly contrasts Anakin and Mace, which was Gr8 and Interesting. I wish they’d done more of that.
It continues season one’s excellent handling of the Clones. While there aren’t as many clone-centric episodes, you still get both a good sense of their individuality and humanity(espcl with The Deserter), and also their Awful and Grotesque disposability to everyone with responsibility over them, even the ones who “care” about them like Anakin, who’s constantly throwing their lives away on ill-conceived assaults. Like: this season REALLY forefronts Clone deaths in a way that is inescapable without being over-wrought, belabored, or distractingly self-aware. It really highlights the Jedis’ hypocrisy, both re: their ideology reifying “life”/“soul”/”naturalness” and in how it leads to their general disdain/disinterest for droids.
I liked the relationship they built btw Boba and Aurra Sing, though I think they could have done more with it than they did.
the Spider-Assassin droids in Voyage of Temptation are Hot-As-Shit, but the whole premise which allows their utility, of a luxury-liner with crappy lighting in the cargo-hold&soldiers without flipping flashlights, was kinda dumb.
as for the stuff I didnt like:
WOW the racism sure is awful in this season! Just... non-humanoid aliens being called monsters, portrayed as untrustworthy, stupid, and needlessly violent, and killed off in a series that goes extravagantly out of its way NOT to kill non-clone humanoids left-and-right. And the Mandalorians all looking... EXACTLY THE SAME and... BEING TALL BLONDE AND SUPER PALE... when the only mandalorian we’ve encountered before this was MAURI and when the CANON on Mandalorians is that being “A follower of Mandalore” is very much a culture and ethos rather than an ethnic group...
I feel like the Mandalorian part of this, specifically, could have been done in a way that was actl interesting and explicit about Star Wars’s antifascist politics given the obvs parallels btw fascism and a bunch of supremacist, war-mongering nordics like Death Watch, but obvsl it wasnt.
Most of the eps just really didnt land with me? Like all the spy, macguffin, kidnapping, and police stuff was just boring&poorly executed(also, what kid is going to get the old noir character-type and actor that the Coruscant inspector is referencing? A completely perplexing choice when making him, instead, a sendup of the Law&Order/CSI type US media was saturated with at the time is RIGHT THERE).
While I liked one aspect of the Heist episode, the rest of it was bad & bad heist episodes are Just Unforgivable unu
SO MUCH BAD, STILTED, NONSENSICAL, AND REPETITIVE DIALOGUE
The primary plot-device of this season is The Idiot Ball, and I Hate The Idiot Ball. Cad Bane is legit written as smart, and Aurra Sing is legit written as dangerous and indefatigable, but they mostly succeed because of how fucking dumb the Jedi, clones, and senate security are being at any one moment.
The IDEA and BACKGROUND for Duchess Satine is good, but the execution of her as a dedicated pacifist and engaged, activist ruler is Bad and Inconsistent(and, on the ruler part, mostly not even there). Also, while the idea of unrealized romantic angst btw Satine and Obi Wan isnt NECESSARILY a bad idea given their history, I think making it mutual rather than one-side on Satine’s part was a bad idea(could have done LOTS of interesting stuff btw Anakin and Obi Wan on this), and I think making Satine’s initial frostiness towards Obi Wan Really be a RESULT of THAT rejection(it’s resolved completely by him telling her he shared those feelings at the time), rather than her seeing him(and the Jedi by extension) as having abandoned their peaceful ideals, was Really Bad. And, frankly, she watched her whole family be murdered in political in-fighting and then spent years on the run, being hunted herself, under the protection of the Jedi Order, before negotiating a peaceful settlement with the ppl who murdered her family; I’d have liked SOME evidence of the trauma she’s canonically suffered in her reactions to violence, and also of the absolute steel-spine, endurance, and dedication it took to make peace in those circumstances. Her pacifism isnt just an ideal to her; it ought to be deeply, deeply personal, and viciously hard-won.
The ep, Bounty Hunters completely misunderstands the point of The Seven Samurai and The Magnificent Seven. The whole POINT is that these two bands of highly-trained, deeply mercenary killers decide to protect absolutely destitute villagers who have nothing but the food they themselves need to survive, some out of a sense of their own wickedness, and others out of a sense of loyalty to the former. To apply that premise to a cash-crop plantation(despite the com’s leader’s protestations of poverty later in the ep, Obi Wan straight-up says “this is the most important, and profitable, medical herb in the galaxy” when they first arrive, and obvsl they’re able to hire off-world bounty hunters to protect them) completely perverts it. The Bounty Hunters and Jedi are defending the equivalent of a cotton plantation; they’re defending capitalists. If you remade The Magnificent Seven to have them defend a plantation-owner against, say, a Northern requisition team during the Civil War, the mercs would be the BAD GUYS. Just... shaking my head this whole episode, honestly. At LEAST it was a communal plantation, presumably with profit-sharing.
So yeah, a definite mixed-bag. So far I’d say there’ve been probably 3-5 episodes in this series I’ve really enjoyed but, while there’s a lot that I grumble at, it isnt so bad that I dread watching it(like, for instance, The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina X| X| X|). I repeat my observation from the last one of these that it really does a good job of being just interesting enough that you spend A LOT of time thinking abt how to fix the parts you dont like :p tbh I’ve already started watching s3, but I’ll share my views on that one once I’ve finished it. If you did, thanks for reading ^u^
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coward ;
Mongke stares blankly at the river lazily trickling around his legs, his head thick and blank with cottony numbness.
It’s been two weeks since the attempted kidnapping and his subsequent escape. Everything still feels a bit unreal, distant. He feels bad because he knows his parents feel horribly guilty and worry about him a lot to the point where they smother him in care. They don’t know what else to do and he doesn’t blame them.
Still. Something festers in the pit of his stomach and he has yet to find the proper description for the feeling.
He hates that he flinches at the sound of footsteps behind him but he forces himself to stay still when a familiar grunt reaches his horns.
Medekhgui grumbles about their old bones as they sit down next to him. They dip their withered feet into the slow river and breathe an overexaggerated sigh of relief. The student and teacher both sit there in silence, each taking some comfort in the silence between them. It feels normal to not speak for once but, at the same time, Mongke feels like he’ll go mad the longer he pretends that nothing is wrong. He fidgets in place, kicking a little at the water if only out of a need to make a little noise.
“So.” Medekhgui begins in that low, gravelly voice of theirs. “You came back.”
Mongke nods numbly.
A gnarled hand rests atop his clenched ones. (When did he make hands into fists?) He stiffens before he slowly looks up into pale gold eyes that hold nothing but sympathy. Mongke isn’t sure if he hates that more than the pitying looks he gets. But, for some odd reason, his eyes prickle and tears drip down his face.
He looks down at his lap as the river continues its lazy pace.
Medekghui carefully pulls him into a loose embrace---one that Mongke can break out of. But he sags against the old shaman and sniffles.
Ugly, broken sounds start trickling from his mouth too.
“I... I...”
He hiccups. Then he cries in earnest. Mongke wraps his arms around his teacher and sobs into their shirt.
“I was scared.” he hisses through his quiet sobs. “I... I was gonna die. I felt... I felt...”
“You felt powerless, huh?” Medekghui offers. They pat his back and carefully adjust their student so he’s more comfortable. “Is okay. You are here. Is okay.”
Mongke keeps crying like some child and he hates that he can’t stop. It feels as though a dam burst and all he can do is ride out the wave.
He doesn’t know how long he spends wetting his teacher’s robes with his tears and snot but, to his relief, his ugly sobs finally subside into hiccups and wet sniffles. His frame still shakes from the aftermath of his sudden breakdown but he slowly pulls away from Medekghui and returns to staring at the river. Mongke leans over and splashes some water on his face.
Medekghui doesn’t say anything, not even to complain about their robes.
And Mongke hates that he lets his weakness show when he asks in a very tiny voice, “Do... do you think I was a... a coward...?”
His teacher stays quiet for a few more moments. Then, they slowly turn towards him with a raised eyebrow.
He doesn’t expect the sudden slap upside his head.
Mongke yelps and cradles the back of his head. Gods, why the fuck do their smacks always hurt so much?!
“You are a fool for thinking that.” Medekghui says bluntly.
Their student looks up with a bewildered look on his face. The old shaman rolls their eyes and heaves a sigh. This kid...
“You did what you could in a hard situation.” They explain slowly. “Most don’t make it out like you did.”
Medekghui heaves another sigh and looks at the river swirl past their old ankles. It’s hard being as open as Mongke is with his emotions---so it’s with great reluctance when they begin talking about... feelings.
“I... blamed myself. Everyday you were gone.” They grit out. Medekghui ignores Mongke’s staring and forces themself to continue. “I thought I sent you to your death. And I could not forgive myself.” They huff out a frustrated breath and look up at the brilliant azure skies. If their eyes are stinging, they ignore that too. “I still... blame myself. For putting you in danger. For... for not helping you when you needed it the most.”
Nhaama, how do people do this shit and not feel exhausted afterwards? Medekghui looks to the side and grumbles.
“If you do not want to be my apprentice anymore because of this... I understand.”
For a long moment, things are very quiet.
Then Medekghui feels thin arms wrap around their torso.
“Ma told me you were the one to send Saaral.” Mongke whispers.
Shit. Damn you, Nergui.
All they did was walk up the mountain pass into Bardam’s Mettle---those damn monsters pestering Medekghui with their stupid claws and fangs---until they made it to the yol nest to pick out that yol Mongke always hangs out with. The khan gave them an earful after they hobbled back with deep, bleeding gashes and an angry yol squawking at their heels.
But they wouldn’t even have to go to such measures if the khan did his job right in hunting down the Buduga. Oh they can’t start a war over a child! Like hells Medekghui is going to sit on their hands and wait to hear news of Mongke being gone for good. And, as much as they wanted to chase the Buduga down themself, Medekghui would die before ever reaching him.
They couldn’t live with themself if they left their apprentice to die or to a worse fate.
“Thank you. For saving me.”
Tch. It was the yol that did all the work.
“I did not do anything,” Medekghui says stubbornly. “I could not even move my old bones to hobble after those bastards anyway.”
Mongke squeezes them. “I still want to be your student.”
Medekghui sighs deeply. This kid...
“Lucky for you, you get a break. Till you get better.” the old shaman grumps. Then, “You missed many lessons so be prepared for hell.”
Mongke nods eagerly against their robes and Medekghui rolls their eyes.
They ruffle their student’s hair.
#tw: mentions of child abuse#... idk. i just. idk#i saw the ffxivwrites prompt for today and. wrote this#vaguely gestures#post / writing
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Title: Tannim Ritual Shit
Pairings: platonic(ish) RukiKarin-centric, minor HitsuKarin, minor platonic IchiRenRuki, mentioned familial IchiKarin
Words: 1900+
Summary: Rashaverse. Sequel to x. WARNINGS– demons, unreality, body horror, smoking, slurs. The things she would do for a paycheck.
Her blood still boiled. Though it was hours ago, Toushirou’s blunder had put her back a few hundred bucks, plus pissed off a mule whose boss was a major investor in several large companies who were also clients of hers. It was unprofessional, it was stupid, it could probably cost her a lot more to have a loose Tannim on board. Even worse, he barely looked apologetic. She couldn’t employ someone so irresponsible, regardless of their ability.
She sighed as she chewed on her cigarette. She wasn’t a smoker, but she and Toushirou were outside and it made them look less suspicious than did they just sit outside. So long as she didn’t smoke more than one or two, that was. She hoped Renji had learned better punctuality, she had forgotten to stress that before she dumped her phone. It seemed she was the only one who cared to not leave trails of evidence.
“Do you want something? Pop? A pretzel?” Toushirou inquired. Ah, she thought, the guilt had finally hit him. Hopefully.
“No, I’m good. We should stay here in case they come.” She replied. She sounded upset despite her logic, she guessed Toushirou caught onto it too, if his grimace was any clue.
“How long will you stay angry at me? You know that kid was repulsive.”
“We don’t. Leave bodies, Toushirou.” She snarled, and a woman nearby moaned as her irritation infected her. “It was on the news. Mysteriously Burned Body Found in Park– now we have that much less leverage against the public’s disbelief in us.”
“You’re overreacting.”
The woman feet away doubled over and hurled as her own blood boiled. “I cannot believe your insolence, Toushirou. Another word about this and god so help me, I will incinerate you where you stand.”
He turned away from her without another word. Good riddance.
Renji’s clunker finally came into view and parked near them. Her frown deepened as she watched as he and another set of legs emerged from the old Plymouth.
Of course he had to bring her.
“Renji, Rukia,” she greeted as she pushed herself to her feet. “Look, I appreciate that you came, Rukia– your Tannim ritual knowledge is invaluable– but I only have three tickets and I insist upon this. You understand, right?”
“You’re as meticulous as ever. If I knew you any less, I may call it paranoid.” Rukia said as she pushed her hair behind her ear. That meatsuit actually looked sweet, if only the same were true for the woman underneath. Rukia had a big mouth, especially around Ichigo and his posse. She couldn’t afford a woman like her on-job. Ichigo liked to crash her operations, and if he got wind that she needed magic for a job, that stupid ‘brotherly’ part of him would hunt her down to protect her, ruin her op, and cost her a lot more money than Toushirou’s fuck up. “It’s a good thing I bought a ticket in advance, isn’t it?”
She grit her teeth. Rukia’s specialty was extrasensory ritual magic, of course she knew what film she would use as their alibi.
“Karin, I’m not the enemy, you know. I’m here to help. Renji even made me swear not to say a thing about this to anybody it doesn’t concern.” Rukia said.
She sighed. Rukia was more experienced in the Tannim arts, she was less likely to screw it up than she might if she did it herself. Plus, suspicion would be further averted if they looked like a double date. Third wheels tended to draw attention. Besides, Toushirou was technically paying for it.
“Alright. But this is my time and my money, so you follow my rules to the little dot above i. Have I made myself clear? I don’t have the energy for an insubordinate consultant.” She snarled, and Rukia nodded. “Superb. Now Renji’s your boyfriend until we get back into his car, alright?”
She pulled pliable Toushirou to his feet and tugged him inside the mall.
She managed idle, empty-headed chatter and to rope Renji and Rukia into it. She was ever capable of deceit. It was hereditary, she liked to say. At least she wasn’t her brother who had fooled himself into believing himself to be a good brother instead of a huge liability.
They sat themselves in the back of the theater next to the speakers. She leaned against Toushirou, and as he began to pet her hair when the movie started, she found herself less and less upset. She never could stay angry with him for very long, no longer than a week– which may sound like awhile to some, but she had held a grudge against her brother for almost her entire life, so hours were infinitesimal in comparison.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” She murmured as she pulled her legs to her chest. “You know how much I hate being treat like some damsel. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.” It had never been about the body, though it wasn’t her favorite thing to just leave those about. She was just offended. Toushirou let her do her job, but he had the same protective streak as her brother and that bugged her.
“You’re not a damsel, I just don’t like seeing you pestered by dense children. You shouldn’t have to waste your time on them.” Toushirou said as his thumb pet the back of her neck.
“But it upsets me when you do. Don’t you love me more than a dated sense of service?”
Toushirou frowned the sort of frown he frowned when he knew he conceded to something he didn’t entirely want to. Alas, he knew she was right, or at least chose to respect her decision. She was so lucky to have someone who listened to her.
The movie came to a close and she made idle conversation with Rukia. She knew not to bring her, she thought as their consultant smiled nervously, Rukia was way in over her head, couldn’t act even with instructions.
She sighed when they were finally enclosed in the safety of Renji’s car. Geniality was exhausting. “There’s a clearing on Samwell Hill. I’ll give directions.” She said as Renji lit up a cigarette. “I don’t remember you being a smoker, Renji.”
“Reminds me of Momo.” Renji replied plainly. She chose to leave it at that. She picked up some pretty weird habits to cope with Momo’s absence, too.
Rukia craned her head over her shoulder to talk to them. “I know you said we’re doing this your way, but the Kuchiki family owns a hangar just on the outskirts of town. It’s farther, but it’s more secure. I know how fond you are of cautionary measures.”
“Good. Let’s go.” She said. “We’ll reimburse you for gas.”
“Won’t hear me bitchin’ about that.” Renji replied as he pulled out of the parking lot. Toushirou winced from her side vision. Just because she wasn’t angry with him anymore, didn’t mean it still wouldn’t come out of his paycheck. She was his boss before she was his lover.
They parked a good forty-five minutes later and climbed out. She did like the seclusion of the hangar, no witnesses, no bodies, nothing to worry about.
It seemed Rukia’s stride changed as they approached the hangar. It seemed her every step turned the Earth like a conveyor belt, the midnight shadow part like curtains for her. Their breaths came out in visible plumes, as if a cold storm front approached, but that was impossible early-July in the Arizona desert.
Toushirou seemed to react to it too. He wasn’t the twitchy sort, every move he made calculated and smooth. But his wrists twitched, his chin jerked to one side, his breath rattled in his lungs. She wondered if it was like how her own aura affected humans, or if it was some call to war. Her bets were on the latter, she thought as his glamour flickered.
She began to wonder if the job was worth it– if she had to resort to unreliable consultants and risk her partner’s sentience. She was under the impression Tannim ritual magic was psychic; clairvoyant, extrasensory, the kineses. It seemed that wasn’t entirely true, as if the half-magic still could make nature and its behemoth creators bow to it.
“It’s normally better guarded here since it’s where we keep our jet, but I asked Byakuya to excuse the staff for our activities as a personal favor.” Rukia explained as their footfalls echoed through the empty space. She watched their consultant shed her wedges and purse. She watched as she hooked her fingers under her bottom teeth and pulled away her sticky meatsuit like a wet sock. She was nude underneath, the eye tattoos a dramatic contrast against her snow white skin.
“You have a quality photo of him, right?” Rukia asked as she toweled herself off from the red goo she lubricated her meatsuit with.
“I do.” She said as she reached into her wallet. She unfolded the glossy sheet and passed it to Rukia, who smiled as she looked down at it.
“This shouldn’t take long, but I suggest you guys stand against the wall.”
She heeded Rukia’s suggestion and leaned against the wall of the hanger. She watched as Rukia knelt, her snow white skin marred by tattoos as black as the Void Izuru inherited, stuck the photo between her teeth, and watched as she opened her chest to the stars.
Toushirou sighed ice as Rukia began to chant in tongues she didn’t recognize even with her royal education. She watched him twitch and tremor, watched his eyes roll into his skull and spittle collect at the edges of his lips from her peripheral, like his own magic resonated with Rukia’s and itched to be let loose and wreak havoc like in biblical days. It must especially resonate with Rukia, her ability only surpassed by Nanao’s.
She was almost grateful Nanao was missing. She couldn’t imagine Toushirou’s reaction if it had been her channelling Tannim magic. They wouldn’t survive, let alone the hanger.
Rukia’s moans echoed through the hangar as her tattoos bulged like heavy tumors. Her shoulders sunk to the floor, yet she pushed her hips up as if the contortion would ease the pain.
Her skin tore as the magic eyes emerged– black things that absorbed anything and everything. She could feel their sight probe the deepest part of her soul, an then move on as Rukia chewed. She felt their sight spread like a heavy fog, farther and farther still, like an oppressive fog.
Rukia gasped as the magic eyes slammed shut. She pitched forward and hacked up the masticated photo. She heard Toushirou sigh as Renji slid to her side and draped the towel over her shoulders.
“You okay?” She nudged Toushirou with her elbow, and he wearily nodded.
“I just need some air.” He mumbled.
“I know where he is.” Rukia announced as she began to lubricate her appendages. “He’s in Colombia. I’ll text you the full address.”
“Good, we need to go anyways.” She didn’t think Toushirou’s glamour would hold much longer. He needed rest. “Thank you for helping, I sincerely mean that, but Renji, don’t involve any help that I haven’t specified. The Kuchiki family isn’t the only one who I can garner materials from and Izuru has proven to be far more conscientious than either of you in the past. Good night.”
“You got it, boss.” Renji replied. She’d scold him for his attitude, but she had other things to attend to.
Like her next paycheck.
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