#not me suffering while making that fake scenario in my head
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November prompt list challenge 2022, Day 12 - Angst
Context! :
The daycare attendant was not saved when the Pizzaplex burned down. Their dear coworker is the only one who misses them.
#ace jesters#november prompts#daily prompt#*hides*#prompt list#2022#not me suffering while making that fake scenario in my head#*sobs ugly*#*parents get concern*#*brother punches me so I have something to really cry about*#(is all joke he doesn’t punch me lol)#fnaf sun#fnaf daycare attendant#fnaf y/n#fnaf sb#fnaf security breach#sundrop#wey draws#angst#light angst#angst prompt
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Not All Shadows are Dark — Xenk Yendar & Reader
Hello! My name is Warlock and this is one of my first fics in recent years so please be gentle with any judgement. Anyway, please enjoy! This is just a fun little scenario I thought of wherein the reader is a warlock of the Raven Queen. Please let me know if anyone wants a continuation. This was mostly just an experiment to test the waters on Xenk’s personality and writing.
You’ve recently escaped from an illegal cage fighting ring. Taken and kidnapped, you were used to fighting for your life in a scrappy brawl as rich spectators bet on who would win. More often than not, the losers would leave the ring in a body bag.
It’s been mere months since the day you escaped your captors’ clutches. Rattling chains, pained and angered yelling, loud and drunken cheering. You could almost hear the sounds echoing in your ears each time you lay down to rest.
Your hands shake as you feel adrenaline rushing through your veins.
CAW!
You bolt up, arm raised as the familiar vision of mangled faces fade from view.
Leaves rustle above you and your head turns. You glance up as Soren, your raven, flies down from his nearby perch. He shakes out his feathers and turns his eyes towards yours. He’s calm and the shadows around you settle as your breathing evens out.
You’re okay.
You hear whispers in the back of your mind, as familiar and comforting as they are unsettling. Soren continues to stare at you, completely unblinking, and eerily still.
You’re safe.
You feel the mark on your back burn with a sudden cold as you feel phantom hands, taloned, run through your hair in a gentle caress.
They’re safe.
Your body flickers momentarily, turning black and wispy like the shadows around you, before settling once more in a physical form.
As you glance up and around you, you don’t see anyone near you besides Soren. You can, however, feel the presence of another hovering just out of view. The air around you is a lot colder with an unnatural chill. It doesn’t bother you. The cold hasn’t bothered you in months, not when it means she’s around.
You finally relax again.
It was just a memory. You’re not trapped, not again. Your friends’ aren’t suffering. Not anymore, at least.
You try to catch your breath as you send Soren away to keep watch while you compose yourself. You glimpse through your raven’s eyes as he flies off, melding with the dark night around him. It’s dark, but the shadows are a comfort most would shy away from. You thread your hands through the darkness at your side and you feel it respond. Her blessing is what allowed you to do this. It’s an assurance, that you’re never fully alone.
You keep looking through Soren’s eyes while remaining alert to your own surroundings. The presence has faded, but you can tell she’s still lingering. It helps you relax.
However, before you could return to your trance, a second, sudden presence breaches your senses and you hit a tree as you try to jump to your feet.
You look up just in time to see a man walk into view. He’s clad in shining half-plate, a sword strapped to his side. He makes no hostile moves but you brace yourself regardless.
The armored man merely tilts his head at you, acknowledging, or maybe assessing. “Hello there.”
His voice is soothing, calm.
But you can feel his divine magic from here and you don’t relax, your own necrotic magic seizing the shadows around you to keep you safe safe safe.
It’s dark, the shadows will protect you. This assurance allows you to calm yourself as you call for Soren. You feel the familiar protective magic blanket your form, Mage Amor settling over you in an instant. Your armor isn’t visible, but you could feel its cold magic surrounding you.
“Good evening.” You return his greeting, posture as nonchalant as you could fake.
He eyes you curiously, voice still calm as he regards you, “I apologize for startling you but… have you seen any undead around?”
You falter. “Undead? Like, a zombie?”
“No.” His expression grows more serious. “Something more.”
You have to pause for a moment as your brain tries to process that. What the hell does More mean? “I’m not sure I follow.”
“A powerful presence lingers within this forest. You should be careful.” He sniffs the air. “Somethings coming.”
He glances up and pulls out his sword. It gleams under the sparse moonlight and you feel the shadows around him shrink.
He faces you directly, but his eyes look past you. You don’t sense anything off but you turn to look as well. You tug your vision back into Soren’s but all you see is your own figure as your raven rapidly approaches.
Breaking past the tree line, Soren alights on your shoulder, a soft caw escaping his beak as his talons find their grip.
You turn back to the man. He’s frowning in confusion, you see through both your own and Soren’s visions. He sniffs the air again before holding out his free hand in a placating manner. “Okay. Please stay calm but I need you to get away from that bird.”
You blink.
“This bird?” You look at Soren. He’s been your loyal companion since you’ve escaped; a gift from her. He’s been your eyes and ears as much as he’s been a partner and companion. A perfect sentinel. There’s no other being you trust more.
“Yes.” His eyebrows crease just the slightest bit. “I don’t think you understand just what that bird actually is.”
<><><><><><><>
I apologize if it seems cut off but I wanna leave it here for now. I can post a revised one with a continuation if anyone wants one.
#dungeons and dragons#xenk the paladin#xenk yendar#dnd honor among thieves#xenk x reader#dungeons and dragons movie#dndhat#dnd movie#reader is a shadar kai#scenarios#second person pov#raven queen#short ficlet
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Kai, Dabi, Trumpet, Skeptic (probably messed up his name srry) and Nines reacting to their kids wanting to dress up as them for Halloween along with their SO reaction, just a idea though plus dont feel obligated to do this
Pss I bet you can't guess who I am behind the anon mask, hint hint im a nuisance who also writes for Overhoe
(Whoo-hoo! My first spooky ask for October! I can’t wait! Looks like Kai and Skeptic are the only one’s I officially gave kids to so we’ll address their munchkins by name lol)
(Sidenote: reveal yourself!!! ahhhh!)
~”Just like Daddy for Halloween”~
headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up
~Overhaul~
-”Huh?” Kai cocked his head to the side while you sat at the kitchen table filling candy from a bag into a large bowl. “I said he doesn’t want to be a vampire anymore.” You repeat your words, sneaking a bite off your candy apple on the plate next to you. Kai sighed and stared at the pile of fabric on the table. “I already bought the costume. We stood in the costume store for an hour and a half while he picked it out. What’s that over there?” Kai pointed at the pile and you paused your work to pick it up. “It’s his costume.” You smiled at his honest reaction. Him? Kaishi wanted to be him for Halloween? “Damn that brat for always making me feel like this...” Kai gripped at his chest and smiled widely. The boy had said in the past that he wanted to be just like him, but it never failed to make Kai feel that blossom of pride and warmth swell up his chest. A few days passed and it was finally Halloween. You passed the candy handling duty off to Pops since the old man decided not to join you three for trick or treating. It was adorable seeing your baby boy standing next to his father looking like clones. Same golden eyes, (h/c) skin, and that killer stoic expression your husband always sported. “Are you ready to go, my baby?” Kaishi’s eyes lit up and his demeanor changed in an instant. “YES YES LET’S GO!” Kai smiled and followed the two of you out the door, never feeling that pride subside for the entirety of the night.
~Dabi~
-Halloween was the best night of his life to be out. The League gained traction and (much like Stain) ended up having some merchandise and following. No doubt companies profiting off something controversial. Lot’s of people were out dressed in costumes pertaining to the organization. Have they no shame? Oh well whatever, Dabi didn’t care. He loved being able to be out almost all night long and sometimes most of the day. That was until he lost that opportunity when he met you. He screwed around and fell in love with you and next thing he knew you were pregnant (or had adopted depending on the reader). He was hesitant on even the slightest idea of fatherhood. He didn’t have the best upbringing and didn’t feel like he should contribute toward bringing a kid of his own into this fucked up world. He still had some unresolved issues of his own. The moment his hands touched the baby for the first time, he knew he wanted to dedicate himself entirely toward them having a different childhood than the one he had to suffer through. Kids are so sweet and innocent. His son looked at him the same way that you did: with all the love and adoration in the world despite all the fucked up stuff he’d done. The two of you cared deeply for Dabi and his son even admired him. That’s probably why you were trying to desperately glue a shit ton of fake staples onto your kid while Dabi stood there trying not to chuckle. “Are you sure about going as me this year? Your mom/daddy/parent here has been struggling for the past 2 hours and we got a 30 minute window left.” You had to fight the urge to tell him to shut the fuck up when you 6 year old was literally right there. “I’m sure! I wanna be daddy for Halloween so please keep going! Look!!!” He reached tiny hands into his pocket and pulled out blue tissue paper he started to crinkle with his fingers. “Look at my blue flame!”
~Trumpet~
-Hanabata was both honored and confused at the same time. He watched the two of you standing in the shop and getting a tailormade suit for his little boy all because the boy wanted to be him for Halloween. “Are you absolutely sure you wanna go through with this? I mean, isn’t Halloween supposed to be scary? Wanna be a ghost, or Frankenstein’s monster, or a Werewolf?” The little boy looked up and puffed his already chubby cheeks out with a pout. “No daddy, no! I wanna be you for Halloween!” You gently shushed him since the shop was quiet after all. “It’s okay baby. Koku, let him express himself. Besides, I’d wanna be a super cool politician too.” You teased him with a wink and he cleared his throat. “Ah well, I suppose I understand.” The entire way home your son was over the top excited about his new suit. He chattered and you swore you could see the blush on Hanabata’s face forming. ‘Me? He thinks I’m that cool?’ It was rare to have someone think that way about his career considering it wasn’t the most exciting. Of course the boy didn’t understand politics since he was only 6 years old, but he DID understand his daddy was important. More than anything, he loved Koku so of course it’s only natural he wanted to be him. On Halloween Hanabata stopped the two of you at the doorway. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with his tie before placing them carefully on his son’s face. “Now let’s go trick or treat, eh?” He smiled and pat the boys head. “YAY!!!!”
~Skeptic~
-He didn’t imagine he’d have the worlds biggest fan in such a small package. Ever since she was just a small girl (under the age of 1) the two of them were attached at the hip. Tomoko was a huge daddy’s girl and she had Skeptic wrapped around her little finger. That’s why he was overjoyed with pride when she came into the bedroom one day and spoke loudly in her tiny voice “I’m gonna be just like daddy for Halloween!!!” You smiled at the thought of it. She’d already had a head full of hair (texture depends on the reader), and it was nearly covering her own eyes considering Tomoyasu didn’t want her to cut it and neither did she. Her posture was a little more like daddy’s since she spent time being hunched over the table coloring for hours and hours on end while he worked on his laptop right beside her. Tomoko could pull off the costume without a doubt. When you’d pieced the simple outfit together finally, Skeptic stood in the corner taking so many pictures that you were sure his memory card would be full by now. While out the two of you had formed a trick or treat group with some of the other parents from the school where your daughter attended. It was cute watching the kids talk about their costumes to each other.
“I’m Batman! What are you?”
“Me? Haha, I’m a big giant rat!”
“Well I’m a swamp monster! What about you Tomoko?”
“I’m my daddy!”
#God I love soft asks like this#so freaking adorable#bnha#mha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#tomoyasu chikazoku#skeptic bnha#kai chisaki#overhaul#Dabi#koku hanabata#trumpet bnha
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READY OR NOT - CHAPTER 1: ORACLE
💕Pairing: Hoseok/Reader
📝Summary:
When the god of death gets bored of waiting for things to happen in the underworld, he decides to take matters in his own hands and walks the earth once more with a long list in his head and all the time of the world. Fated to repeat the same story, will this time things finally work out?
✏️Genre: Horror, Jack in the box/Mythology AU
✏️Rating: PG-18
📝Word count: 1776
⚠️Warning︎: Mentions of dead, descriptive horror (additional tags to be added with the chapters)
<<<𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊 | 𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 2>>>
Hii! Second work here, I hope it's interesting to someone. English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)
The soft breeze pushed the white curtains away from the open window, the soft smell of clean cotton fabric arriving to you faintly. The sun, mercilessly, reflected on the crystal deer sitting over the white fake-wood coffee table, once more sending its ray straight to your closed lids. Its bothersome play, ripped a groan out of your vocal cords as you shifted your position on the dolphin-blue divan meant for the patients. Under the natural light coming from the big arched windows, filling the whole white room, you had finally been able to dream something nice for a change; golden fields of oat where your hands caressed lovingly the tops of its grown stems.
Sleeping during the day when the sun shone and the world was full of light, felt safer somehow, as if your nightmares could become true if you closed your eyes to the darkness. Because one thing was true; if you slept at night your dreams turned into those really quick and what terrified you the most, was how they were interconnected, part of one bigger picture. It was that structure what concerned because it was odd enough that a dream would repeat for a human in a lifetime, to be facing dreams that were directly connected in a storyline.
Then not only was that weird but the figure that appeared, the being of whom you couldn’t identify the features, would repeat the same action every time in different scenarios. Mostly, appearing at the end of your bed and pronouncing words in a language you couldn’t understand. Then grabbing you by the ankles, it would pull you out of the bed or wherever you were tucked and comfortable in, dragging you to take you outside, although you would fight him as hard as to uproot your nails trying to hold yourself.
Every time that situation developed as you held on Morpheus's arms, it seemed more and more real, sometimes jolting awake completely disoriented and searching for the signs of what had happened. Other times, and those were odds, you were standing on a field and the clouds were the main indicator of time passing by at an unbeatable speed. The fields would change as the sky turned darker with clouds and electricity filling the air; then just as quick the oats and weeds would start to perish, turning brown and decaying. When you would wake up from those, the sadness and loneliness you felt while inside the dream carried on during the day.
Not done there, the images in others were more exasperating and extremely confusing. You would be sitting on a tall throne with an attire that matched no one else’s in the room, too soft and clear. The people standing right in front of you could barely be called people, their faces were melted and they walked wailing in pain. When you’d try to stand, moved by their suffering, a hand with long fingers would press your shoulder down to make you sit again. It would be then when you would look up from the arm and see that same creature whose features hid in the shadows (the one trying to abduct you) would indicate you had to stay put, and you would obey.
Dreams like that were indicators, and as a therapy psychiatrist, there were a few interpretations of those subconscious representations that would make you doubt your own mental health. There was oppression, suffocation and lack of control which you couldn’t really read anywhere in how your life worked, more even, you were perfectly fine until those nightmares started out of nowhere and managed to screw your sleeping patterns to dust.
You tried to compose yourself out of the nap, rubbing your eyes and pushing your hair backwards, fluffing it to fall on a proper way to look refreshed. The afternoon patient’s therapy was not scheduled until past an hour and you decided to go see the newest resident, who was still in isolation, recovering from the psychotic break that brought him there.
The patient wasn’t particularly aggressive but the characteristics of his hallucinations and the fact that he was tall and bulky made the people who presented him having it, to call the authorities. After the night of sleep, along with the sedatives, the patient looked pretty settled and you had even been able to have a coherent conversation after your quick lunch at the cafeteria, two hours before.
The crystal deer shined again against the sofa and in a little cautious gesture, you moved it slightly away from the direction the sun would take in the afternoon. The piece was heavy, with a discreet frosted glass base where it stood; an unconventional thing to have on the coffee table of an office. But it was a present from your mother, an endearing gesture from her to remind you of the place where you were the happiest. She brought it while visiting you and left it on the table, with the entitlement only a mother can have.
“Since you spend more time here than in your apartment, it seems fair that it stays here. Don’t you think?” she said with a sweet capricious tone, giving you a smile that you couldn’t refrain from reciprocating. Ever since, the sculpted animal had accompanied you in every session and some patients had actually told you that it gave them peace to stare at it.
Your mother, however, wasn’t happy enough with that one and sent you a four-foot-tall purplish frosted, crystal deer for the entrance of your apartment and although you loved the object, you were not sure how you would manage if you ever had to move it. When it was brought, it took two people to get it from the truck to your entrance, where they installed it.
Walking down the hallways you crossed a couple of your colleagues and got the news of a patient escaping from Gaiachron Rehabilitation Center and the nurse taking care of the ward being found dead in his cell. Apparently, it was a heart attack but the whole thing perse was grotesque. Still, you listened to all the things that were being said about said escape and, one of them, was the fact that the patient had managed to fool four control points and get out of the hospital under everybody’s nose.
You could only wonder the hows but it was bad enough on its own that there had been a security bridge on such well-formed institution, to add the name of the person who escaped. It gave you a heavy heart and a sense of unsafeness that settled in your stomach. Jack was a well-known patient, who had entered that institution only a week before.
His case was in the news. A completely normal office worker who had nothing bad to be said of, suddenly set on fire the building where he worked at. There were no mortal victims but one, his boss, and three severely burned people. However, as his picture reached the news, with an arrest warrant, other offices around and in the nearby states filled the phone lines of the police department and sent material to be reviewed.
Apparently, Jack, that was the American name he used, was seen in various crime scenes or near them which put him right under the label of a possible serial killer. But, like a hero in disguise, he seemed to be only aiming for terrible people one would have never expected to be involved in something criminal. The odds, and here was where police had been struggling the most, was the distance between victims, including the day and the hour the victim died. In one of those, the difference was less than twenty minutes when the distance in a fast car was about two hours. It made them think of the possibility of twins acting separately for the same purpose.
However, when they interrogated him, the incongruences and his self-allegations came with the diagnosis of a paranoid schizophrenic. Along with him having provoked a fire that killed a person, although not having enough proof to ensure he had committed any other crime, sent him straight to the high-security rooms of Gaiachron Rehabilitation Center under the care of prestigious Dr Min Yoongi.
From what the rumours were saying, two days before, Dr Min was about to send a diagnosis to court and from what you knew from Jungkook, it was determined that Jung Hoseok did not have the previously mentioned mental transform. It was just a very bad moment that Roy Ackerman’s partner had had to leave because his wife was in labour and the man put his guard down with a patient that was perceived as dangerous. They were advised against accessing any of the rooms of those patients while they were still awake but just bad enough he was a case that had been specifically warned from.
You did follow your protocols. Entering the area, one of the security guards, checked your identity and offered you escort until you found your patient’s room; a four-wall cushioned space to keep him safe from harm. He stood from the edge of the room to advance on his knees closer to you, under the dim light coming from little bull eyes on the ceiling and then sat. You proceeded to ask routine questions to make sure the patient was alert and responsive before you began digging into the surface a little. It was then, as you spoke that you and the guard outside heard Namjoon.
“I dream of people dying and then they do. I see them on the news or the papers but I can’t never stop it…” suddenly he broke in a whine of heartfelt pain. “Why can’t I do anything about it? Why can I see it but I’m not able to save them? Why?” he cried in despair and you found yourself putting a hand on his shoulder. “Something is coming for you.” he suddenly whispered looking at you straight in the eyes at almost no inches from your face and you moved away falling on your butt, alarming the guard, who entered the space to reduce him. “Please doctor, be careful!” the patient said as you walked out and called for another guard.
He kept repeating similar lines of thought until the sedative you injected him worked. The sight of him, restrained in a bed, somehow affected you more than it did with other patients and you walked to your office with a knot in your throat. When you walked in, you noticed someone had been in, for the one single alteration in the space; the deer was gone.
Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I really appreciate if you let me know if you liked it, either with a kudo or a comment. It encourages me to keep writing!
© 2021-2022 Cherry Soulth, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind, translations, unsanctioned adaptations are not allowed.
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who I write for
Dialogue prompts:
1. “You're hurt, aren't you?"
2. "You don't always have to suffer in silence, you know?"
3. "Stop laughing at me"
4. "Are you always this shy?"
5. "I'm rambling again, aren't I?"
6. "It sounded better in my head"
7. “You're adorable"
8. "That was supposed to be a secret"
9. "I'm not going if you're not going, it wouldn't be fun without you"
10. "I feel like I've known you forever"
11. "You know how I feel about you"
12. "You’re my hero"
13. "That wasn't supposed to happen"
14. "It sucks, doesn't it?"
Scenarios:
15. Person A and Person B competing against each other to see who can bake the best dish while pretending they're on Chopped/The Great British Bake Off/etc.
16. Person A pushing Person B around in a shopping cart because they're tired and don't want to walk anymore.
17. The entire city is experiencing a power cut so Person A and Person B spend the night laying in the grass together and staring up at the stars
18. Person A and Person B order room service to their hotel room. When it arrives, Person A is too shy to answer the door so they hide in the bathroom and make Person B do it.
19. Person A thinks they're doing a great job keeping their house plants alive but actually, Person B has secretly replaced them with identical-looking fake plants so Person A can't kill them.
20. Person A giving Person B a tattoo
21. Person A and Person B buying each other silly souvenirs on the boardwalk
22. Person A letting Person B sit on top of their shoulders so they can have a better view of the show
23. Person A wakes up in the middle of the night to a loud crash and is really scared that there’s an intruder in the house but it turns out that it was just Person B falling down the stairs
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It wasn't you that wrote that santhony fic but all the rest checks out, too many bitches in this fandom fake love Kanthony seeing the god awful and out of characters fic your write and how much you love to bring Siena into their relationship and have Kate and Anthony cheat on each other. Also I can't wait for Bridgerton to cast Sophie since you like to invent gay ships and ignore the existence of canon women of this saga :)
I wonder if the anon message someone sent me earlier was from you or from someone else, and that anon sent you a screenshot of what they sent me and you two have discussed it together! That, you silly billy, is fan behavior <3
This has really tickled me because it couldn't be further from the truth, and so, I really wonder how much of my work you're 1) reading and 2) comprehending and 3) if you have any reading comprehension skills at all whatsoever. I think this message proves that you do not.
Honestly, I feel as though I really don't write anything remotely angsty lmfao. I don't write them cheating on each other or in relationships with other people because I personally cannot always handle writing certain subject matter because it makes me a touch sad! You can come comb through my AO3 and see that this is exactly the case.
That being said, even if I did write those things, it is none of your business that I do. It's literally fanfiction. Since the beginning of fanfiction, from the dawn of the internet, people have been writing and shipping random characters together for their own fun. For me, at least, I enjoy having a creative outlet and exploring different scenarios, and I would never begrudge another person to write whatever they want and whomever they want. If I don't like a certain ship or the setting of a fic--I don't read it! It is as simple as that! And I certainly don't take time out of my day to go into the inbox of someone on tumblr and send them a cowardly anon message, riddled with untruths, that is only spreading hate. Funnily enough, in attempting to "stick up" for "women" and/or "woc," you are quite literally harassing a woman of color, who, I assure you, does not at all have the same amount of money or connections or influence Simone Ashley does. You are quite literally sending hate and rude comments to someone who faces plenty of racism, sexism, and homophobia, and who lacks the privilege wealth and influence might provide as a shield that a very famous actress does. On what planet is continuing to harass someone anonymously--which you do because you know that these comments are wrong, and if you sent them from your actual account, you'd be reported and lose your privileges on the internet, and rightfully so--defending the very same people you claim to love and "stan"? Do you think they would cheer and be joyful that you are spreading such hate and vitriol in their name? Do you think anyone in their right mind would support such actions?
I know that this sort of misplaced hatred comes because you lack power and the ability to have control over your own life, and likely because you are deeply unhappy with yourself. While I have never taken the time out of my day to harass and spread hate in this way, I've suffered from feelings of depression and unhappiness before, too--a lot of people have. I promise you, this is not the way to find happiness with your life. It is not the way to feel any power over your life, it is not the way to feel any joy or find meaning out of your life.
If you need to speak to someone about your feelings, I urge you to call up a friend. I urge you to write a letter and then throw it away. I urge you to get all these feelings out of your head and then take a long, nice walk, with good music. Find a hobby--you can even start writing fanfiction, which is free, fulfilling, and you can do it in your own free time that you will now have because you've stopped spreading hate, and you can make friends who share your interests!
There is a brighter, better world out there, and I want you to discover it for yourself. You will feel so much more fulfilled and happy with your life when you do. Yelling at people you don't know online and sending them hate messages is not the way to live a happy, fulfilled, meaningful life. It is not the way to feel content and at peace with yourself. It is also not the way to make friends! Anon, let me tell you something; I have written plenty of fanfiction about Kate and Anthony. A lot of it is actually quite good. When people are kind to me and are my friends, I send them snippets of that writing before I put it up on AO3, just because I know they'll enjoy it. I talk about AU ideas with them, I talk about characters with them, I make jokes about those characters! It's fun. It's nice. I could do all of that with you, too, if you were kinder. Lucky for you, I am quick to forgive and like to see the best in people. I urge you to look for the best in yourself, work on yourself, and then come back. It doesn't have to be this way.
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I waaaaaaaaaaant 2, 6, 10, 11 (for no reason, I'm just cuuuurious) and 14. Please!
Hi love, you're wonderful, do you know that?
2. has a comment someone left on a fic of yours ever made you cry?
Oh yes! I do not actually cry easily from good emotions, but even so, the answer is yes.
I do keep all my comments pretty much screenshotted, even random nice things people say to me in replies or conversations, to find later and relive the joy of them. Even small things mean the world to me. There are several from our conversations that have made me tear up!
But as for comments posted on Ao3, @zillychu left comment series on I was caught in a crossfire, I was still as the night (You were an angel in the shadows) that made me tear up, every one of 'em. It was the first thing I had written after a long break and I was quite anxious about it and their kind words really helped me feel like I had the ability to say something that others would enjoy or need to hear.
Those comments, and this one, which also made me tear up, are some that I go back to as one of the first when I feel like there's no point to me struggling through the effort of writing, that I can't find words or meanings behind them that are worth sharing. There are already so many good fics out there, so why must I suffer to add just something to the list? But then I reread them and it feels like, maybe there is a point.
I hope you have found some consolation, dear person. That you continue to find some peace and quiet. We are not faking it, because then we would not doubt it, we would know we are. Us tearing ourselves apart benefits no one, least of all ourselves and our tattered hearts that can never go back to the-befores.
6. what is your favourite sense to incorporate in your writing and why?
I honestly think I forget about them all too often. Sense of touch and hearing beyond communication nuance is often incorporated only to show signs of being overwhelmed, for example. I'm trying to be better about it.
I think writing in Trigun world has been an interesting challenge because lot of things I would love to show through senses often stem from my familiar and beloved, very green world.
Overall, I think it has to be sight that appears the most, but I don't know if it's necessarily the favorite.
10. what word do you keep using like it’s going out of style?
I feel like I literally noticed new one in the feral au ch1 but now I've forgotten. I definitely use things like tender and gentle a lot, but that's not on me, that's on them being tender and gentle.
Smithereens is one, has been haunting me for near decade now, I think.
I definitely make Meryl squeak a bit too often.
I feel like my readers might be more aware of it at this point, oops.
11. what grammar mistake do you keep making no matter how many times your beta corrects you?
Maybe fuck you a little after all.
Come one and come all, I think we as community should stage intervention for English language's addiction to articles. When the sentence has like 5-6 articles for 20-30 words, that shit's GOTTA STOP.
Seriously. I swear I am trying. They're just bullshit and they keep multiplying and they don't exist in my native language and-
14. what trope would you refuse to write even if you were paid to do it?
Yandere things, s*xual assault, assault and domestic violence in general, stalking and violently possessive behavior, not just references but in graphic detail and especially if happening between my OTPs.
Not only these are things I do not want to explore, they also just don't fit the characters I enjoy and write, so having such content would be breaking them heavily in ways I do not enjoy.
While technically these aren't tropes, at least some of them, these are things I've seen floating around as AUs/scenarios.
There are some I would fiddle with extensively/twist them on their heads to ever consider engaging with, such a pregnancy fics (regular or MPreg) or a/b/o things, but if I was paid to do them and was allowed to do my own thing... Idk.
Send me ask about fic writing?<3
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a series of fantasies, starting from tamest and most plausible, and working my way towards the stuff that isn't possible in this reality
literally we just hang out as friends, catch up, maybe do some pokemon go together, and then i doze off with my head resting on you. told you it starts tame.
same as above but as i doze off you get to grope me. i probably won't be able to keep my noises to myself. let's see where that leads.
demonstrating the mouth watering mints face to face with you. let me drool on myself... and maybe if you want to try one we can see if i'm actually into someone else spitting on me in practice, or is that just a theoretical kink still?
when my partner and i have our own place, we invite you over for brunch/gaming/movies/whatever and bondage cuddles happen. i have a vision of me tied up with my arms and legs bound, watching something while snuggled up next to you, and maybe you kiss me or something and we'll see where that goes.
we just happen to meet up at a dungeon and you beat me in front of an audience. even better if you degrade me, make me beg, rip my clothes, and make me degrade myself... in front of an audience.
ttrpg scenario where our characters fuck
above but we actually fuck, in character. even better if you're dming or guest-playing an unearthly villain, i'm my pc, and we use toys to represent whatever nonhuman stuff you've got going on. whatever ttrpg we are playing at the time. we can get creative.
hotel room break-in rape fantasy. i'd love a weapon involved. be violent with me. threaten me. hurt me. i'll beg you not to hurt me, not to rape me, not to breed me. you don't have to listen.
same as above but 1) break into where i actually live, and 2) start while i'm asleep
sexy witcher cosplay photoshoot where you, as geralt, have gotten fed up with me, as jaskier, and have me bound, gagged, and beaten. oh god i had that idea back when season 1 dropped and a friend of mine was writing fic about them and it just reoccurred to me.
we go to a blood drive together. i have a remote control vibrator inside me. the more blood they take from me, the woozier i get. the woozier i get, the more you tease me with the vibrator. if i pass out, even more fun.
use an ovipositor toy to overstuff my cunt and watch me suffer with feeling too full, then having to push out whatever you put inside me
gape me with massive fantasy dildos. a tentacle. something with a knot. some wild alien-looking monster cock. maybe multiple creature cocks per hole, even?
facefuck me while i ride a sybian (less plausible than above stuff due to the fact that i would 100% get overstimulated and just cease to function)
get some of the post-surgery pain meds i had, and keep me on the edge of consciousness while you use me however you like (implausible due to things like... the law)
choke me until i pass out, let me wake up, and then do it over and over again. especially if i wake up once to see my blood on your hands and face (implausible because that would eventually end in me dying)
this is the threshold for where things get fantasy only because it's not really doable and/or survivable in reality
when i get my hyseterectomy, the first thing i see when i wake up is you fucking my removed uterus
cut my pelvis open so you can see what it looks like from the inside when you fuck me (take polaroids and/or video please)
stab a new orifice into me and fuck it (wouldn't that be a fun new way to fuck my tits)
cut my real tits off, keep them as a fuckable trophy, and replace them with fake ones, whatever size you want
create a whole entire fake bimbo body for me so that you can switch my consciousness between my real body and the bimbo body. let me watch you fuck whichever other me i'm not in, completely empty and lifeless. if i can get some of the sensation of it somehow, double the fun.
if by some regenerative magic we can let parts cut off of me grow back, let me beg for you to cut me up and feed me my own flesh because that's all i'm allowed to eat (oooh, maybe the magic works that in order to regenerate i HAVE to eat my own flesh??)
murder me. fuck and mutilate my body. and let me somehow still feel what you do to me. (and then maybe let me come back so you can do it over and over?)
you as a centaur. me as a succubus. hide your horsecock in my massive tits. fuck a centaur tiefling into me. and when she grows up to look like ginny, enjoy her too.
fulfill every twisted, lethal, fucked up, terrifying fantasy younger me had... for younger me.
full body tentacle rape. multiple in every hole. nipple penetration. impossible stomach bulge. so many wrapped around my body, all over, so you can barely see my skin. overstimulation. an obscene, disgusting amount of cum coating me inside and out. and if the tentacles somehow connect to you... even better.
#this post has an audience of one and it is that audience's birthday by the time i post this#happy birthday hon this is what i managed to come up with as a present#this post will self destruct in some amount of undecided time bc aint no way this gets to stay up
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About a man named Kafka and a wish of poor young lady.
Beep.
Just like that, another call from home had been rejected. Of course, I could pick it up and took my minutes to hear what mom wanted to said but, no. Her noise would be another sound that resonated in my head, a signal of misery and guilt for being a mortified failure.
I was born poor, and my heart was growing up in poverty of unharmonious dynamic in one household. None other than to lift my social status, which was unlikely to happen later on. I lived the life of someone who was acted enough for anything, while my mother tried to make me feel like it, but I grew up tired of making something that never fated to be in my family line.
You know, I barely tasted a taste of privilege; both money and love. Even having a meal of cheap meat is best privilege I could have, and I was grateful—needed to be so in love with that kind of gratitude until I wanted to puke. Being a small, pretty girl in wealthy clothes was sickened me out. l was so poor, until my plate never been filled with love and affection from my hard-working mom.
I am hungry, so does my mom. But she wasn’t like me, instead she always wanted to eat something else, that other people always had in their table. More sickening.
My mom that I loved and hated, the society that I loved in, and people. Romance was very expensive to get and I didn’t want to devour it. Even for once.
Society is walking a prolonged path of pain and fake skin. And I could say, bravely, that it would kill me faster than my suicide. Yes, the final way to end my suffer. I never wanted my mom to be poorer by having an useless money spender (in my scenario, not being alive is better) and I don’t want to act like an useful tool for my household anymore.
Late night, I was drawing another star upon my centimeters line of scars, all alone. Just smothered my ego to hurting myself that actually still scared about taking my own life. Not that long until another call made its way to be in my line. It was from him, a man with honey-like smile. Yes, that man named Kafka. That time, I didn’t even hesitant to pick up his phone and said hello as a response.
Someone who once came back then in months, like a sudden wave of emotions, that made me alive with a beautiful arch on his face. I wished I was dead at that time, but turned I was not. My heart was so much alive with his beat, though I knew I supposed to be away from that kind of feeling.
“Come to the beach tomorrow morning, Esther.” He said it with giggles that sounded so polite in my ears. His voice… tickled my ears with fluttering joy I barely got. “As per usual. I think I need to see you again today.”
Oh, just by hearing his laughter already made me wonder about having him as a wondrous privilege that I never had. So I said yes, and wrapped up another night deranged night of mine.
I know, I always know—it is illegal to want something that never could be in my reach, but what if I could hope more, when his presence is pretty much alive, in one inch closer to me?
His smile is bright as always. Even for today, I wished him to be something that makes me stand as a wealthy woman. Love is so expensive but I get capable to give my all to him sincerely, along with and bouquet of flowers I often make featured tons of devotion to him. To preserve his smile in my keepsakes forever, to walk beside him for evermore.
Will he hold my heart until my death comes?
The karmafeith, 2023.
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Why did you elbow me? 79
Out of breath
Ryan: pov I can hear the shocked voice of the onlookers which I'm trying to shoo away. The owner Dave says wow I can't believe she survived that.
Alexis: pov the medics are trying to get Kate to answer some of their questions but she won't, it's hard to see her like this so vulnerable.
Castle: pov Kate manages to point out what is bothering her which concerns the medics since it's her chest they hook her up to monitors. An oxygen mask is put on her face. Since she is having some trouble breathing. I love that even though Lanie is a medical examiner she always studies up on heart conditions like Kate's for times like this. Lanie explains everything that is going on and how to solve it which impresses the medics. Connie inserts the heart medicine Lanie mentioned. They are starting to load up the ambulance with Kate, I'm so thankful for Lanie she asks the medics if I can ride with them Connie says only if I stay out of the way. Alexis is riding with Ryan and Esposito. We will pick up my car later.
Kate: pov Castle is holding my hand while Lanie gives orders to the medics. I'm Finding it hard to stay calm.
Lanie: pov they can't strap Kate down, because of previous chest trauma. She is very freaked out which is concerning the medics. Castle is trying to calm her down but it's not working. Donnie whispers in my ear that they might have to sedate Kate, worst case scenario she is just too freaked out/paranoid for them to check her. I mentioned she has had some breathing trouble in the past from her shooting plus she has a heart condition so you can't. She also has ptsd from her shooting, Kate's breathing is also not the best since she is hyperventilating on top of everything. Castle is distracting her for us, we agree on some calming meds she can take. I mention everything we are doing so as not to freak Kate out. Once administered Kate should start to calm down which will make it easier for the medics to check her. The whole way to the hospital was stressful.
Esposito: pov in the Er me, Alexis and Ryan head to the waiting room where we bump into Castle he says he is not allowed in the exam room with Kate only Lanie is.
Lanie: pov at the hospital Kate is rushed into a trauma room. Kate is extremely freaked out, she has been moved to an exam table, she is trying to pull out the iv but thankfully the medic taped it really good. The Dr in the room steve is a regular dr Kate won't sit still. She is fighting the calming meds. I explain to Steve what happened and her symptoms. I tell Steve to explain to Kate what you are doing before you do it so that way she is less freaked out, He says he can tell she is suffering from hyperventilation, she has all of the symptoms, it causes breathing problems and a fast heart rate, it's usually seen in ptsd cases. I'm trying to calm her down and explain to him her medical history. As the male nurse comes close with the blood pressure cuffs she starts getting more agitated as he nears her. I tell everyone to give her space. But they don't listen to me. The Dr tells a few more nurses to come in to hold her down so he can examine her, because he thinks she is faking for attention he sees it all the time in anxiety cases. I try to tell the Dr she has ptsd and you are making it worse but he won't listen. He is also very rude to me. The nurse is trying to draw her blood to test it. The Dr wants to see if she took any drugs. I can't take this Dr, he asks if she does drugs. I say no she takes 2 kinds of heart meds.That is when Kate does something unpredictable and punches the nurse. I can see Kate is crying. Why make this more traumatizing for her? Kate is trying to pull her arm out of his grip. I can see the fear/panic in her face as she is trying to get her arm free, she is yanking it really hard. Kate is also hyperventilating even more now. I mention since her shooting her left lung has given us some trouble. Steve injects a sedative into her iv without my permission. He and a nurse move her to a gurney. He then straps her Arm to the bed. She is still trying to free her left arm; the other one has an iv in it.
Kate: pov all of the drs and nurses are freaking me out. I feel my arms being restrained which is scaring me, I think I just punched a nurse, before everything goes black.
Lanie: pov I tell Steve do you not understand you have to ask me first before giving her a sedative. He says she was a threat to the hospital staff. I mentioned you should do your job better and listen to your patients better, because what you thought was hyperventilation is actually her having a heart episode. She has a heart condition and has had some breathing issues in the past from her shooting. I rub the back of her hand trying to calm her down, she is now out. I ask for another Dr to take over her care because as her medical proxy I refuse to have him treat her. Ted, a cardiologist arrives and takes off the restraints. He Says her wrist looks bruised. I explain to him what happened, he starts to examine her. I explain to him Kate's Medical history. An ultrasound machine is brought in the room so the cardiologist could do an echocardiogram on Kate, He lifts up her shirt then squirts the gel on Kate's chest and moves the wand around over her heart and lungs. He says he sees nothing to be concerned about right now which means the paintballs did not damage her heart or lungs. She is being taken for more scans. To be continued. …..
#castle#caskett#fanfiction#katebeckett#stanakatic#richardcastle#nathanfillion#lanieperish#tamalajones#tvshow
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Celebrities at High Danger From Hackers
At last week's Sunday lunch while discussing my current blog post on Sarah Palin's email hack, a close friend asked me exactly how vulnerable stars were to being hacked. It was rather coincidental that couple of hours later on the face publication account of the French Head Of State Nicholas Sarkozy was hacked into as well as uploaded with the message "Dear compatriots, provided the outstanding scenarios our nation is experiencing, I have actually chosen in my spirit and also principles not to compete office again at the end of my required in 2012." This was not the first effective hacking attempt against the Head of state of France. In 2008, Head of state Sarkozy filed an issue with the cops complying with withdrawals of "small amounts of money" from his individual Parisian bank account. It is alleged that the money was made use of to establish smart phone registrations. Interestingly the President was a sufferer of a mass Phishing assault, presumable a fake e-mail connecting to an illegal bank site where he entered his checking account and password, and not especially targeted.
Check out right here: professional hackers for hire
Stars the world over are especially targeted as a result of their status, treasures and also fanaticisms of an area of followers. Close to jeopardized email, twitter, face book accounts they are vulnerable to cybersquating (where their domain name is taken control of by an additional individual) and also destructive attachments in follower mail. In a couple of cases star accounts have been hacked with backside systems of social media networks.
Celeb's lives are open publications with a significant amount of information concerning individual life as well as sexual orientations. This detail makes it less complicated for a hacker to guess passwords, response to secret questions or send a credential taking malware.
When a star account is hacked the normal reward for returning the site to the original proprietor consists of a demand for money, sex or naked photos.
Referral for Celebs.
Celebs that make use of social media sites like Facebook and twitter to communicate with followers, in a lot of cases hire media companies to take care of these accounts. It is necessary to ensure that the media companies that use groups with access to the celeb's account and personal information shield its discretion through making use of safety and security best techniques.
Click here for more details:i need a hacker to hack and repair my credit scores
For celebrities that manage their very own social networks, it is essential to identify the increased danger and also make certain passwords made use of for on-line accounts are solid (absolutely not the name of your animal dog as a response to your secret question) and to comply with risk-free concepts while downloading Internet web content or add-ons in fan e-mail. I would recommend making use of a specialized desktop computer exclusively for upgrading social media network sites and another for fan mail and Web downloads.
Suggestion for Individuals.
Fake star sites are plentiful on the Internet. In times of a major star event such as the death of Michael Jackson safety experts observe a surge in fake websites with celebrity information and also material developed to bring in customers with the single objective of infecting customer desktops with harmful web content to send spam or swipe qualifications. It is preferable to read celeb news on reputed sites as well as restrict opening add-ons in chain mails or downloading from unidentified websites. Accessories range from wall papers to presentation.
Find out more
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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
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Epilogue
Red Riding Hood series, here is the previous part.
Do you know the tale about the Wolf Girl?
Gabi finally came to their playhouse.
All of her friends can’t wait any longer to hear her story about the Wolf Girl. It’s an urban legend in this village. About a beautiful girl who got called Red Riding Hood because she always wear a red cloak wherever she go.
“Hurry up Gabi! My uncle said it was true, once when he was a little he’s neighbor with that girl!” Said Zofia makes everyone gasped “He told me that she’s very kind” she added.
“Okay I’ll tell you guys the story but remember! No interrupting while i tell the story okay?” Everyone immediately agree.
***
One day Red Ridding Hood or people also call her Mikasa (her real name) went to her grandma’s house because her grandma is sick. She brought her lot of fruit on her basket.
To go to her grandma’s house she must go through the forest where the wolf lived.
What unlucky day, it was the day of mating season. It’s not a rare case that village girl got attacked by a wolf, but got mate by a wolf? That is a nightmare. But guess what, the wolf who put his eyes on red ridding hood is not a real wolf. But, he’s more like the Forest evil spirit who often steal a village girl and have sex with her just for his own pleasure. And it seems the evil spirit already knows Mikasa long time before she get into forest and try to do something to catched her attention or make a bait. So he makes a beautiful spot in the forest that full with flowers who made from his magic.
And it works.
He never see a beautiful creature like this before, and suddenly mark her as his and give Mikasa his seed that plant inside her womb. After that he erase her memory and let her go, he want to make a new and good impression to her. He let her to take his flower as a gift, he never do this before, acted so nice to a weak creature (human) but Mikasa is an exception. He followed her to her grandma’s house and wait all day untill she come out in his wolf form. But what is it? She go out from that house and throw his flower away? What was she thinking?! Does she know what that flower means? And it’s not an ordinary flower!
He get mad and decided to play around with her. He trap her in this forest, makes an illusion a dream that she already got back home while the reality is she still in the forest, slept on the roots. Whenever he fuck her while she unaware it became a dream on her dream. He kept her safe in the woods, let her suffer in those fakes scenarios and will let her free (from her long dream of mental torture) if she got pregnant.
There’s a reason why he got called “evil”.
Everyone in Village looking after her but no one ever see her shadow again. Her parent going through hard phase while her grandma doing some ritual asked for good spirit find her grand daughter but He is too strong and those tiny fragile good spirits disappear everytime He snap his finger.
As time pass by her grandma finally die while her parent move to other village.
So what happen to red riding hood? Why now she got called Wolf Girl? Well there’s no one hundred person sure a real reason why she got that name but couple years ago when a villagers went to the forest he met her take a walk with a big wolf with his claws cover in blood and blood also come from her mouth. They look like straight come out from hell.
=================================
“Eren!” She woke up and look around to find him “Calm down Mikasa, I’m here” he grab her hand and caress her hair “What’s the matter?”.
Mikasa shook her head and rub her face “I’m having a weird dream. That I’m a village girl who like wearing , i have parent, a normal life. Does it sound crazy?” She asked him with a little laugh, “Or maybe that is.. real?” Mikasa turn her head face him.
He took a deep breath and tuck her hair to her ears “That’s just a weird dream Mikasa, everybody also got weird dream” Eren already has her now, and he will never let her go.
“B-but it feels so real Eren-” “Mikasa!” He cut her words, cupped her face and look into her dark eyes “No. listen, you are my wife, i love you, i really-really love you. You never have those life, this is your life. You must be wrong remember, you don’t like wearing red cloak you like wearing red scarf that i gave to you” his hand start to caress her cheek “Please, don’t say something like that again, you makes me feel sad” Mikasa grab his hand “No, please don’t be sad. I didn’t mean to hurt you” her eyes were cover with tears.
“I love you” she added.
His hand goes down, his thumb wipe her plump pink lips and without any warning he push his point and middle finger into her mouth and Mikasa accept it. She suck it with her eyes closed and her cheek turning to red.
Eren smiled, “I know”.
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♡〜hey is it possible to request a nsfw (making out) hc scenario for kyoya from ohshc x male reader, where they get caught making out in the club room by the rest of the host club?〜♡
Kyoya Ootori x male reader
Kyoya would never let this happen but for the sake of fic let’s go. Honestly, I don’t want to write a full making out scene atm so..
Requested: Yes
Word Count: 730
Warnings: making out
“(y/n)...” Kyoya breaths out. His tone tells you he wants you to stop, but his hands push your head further against his neck.
“Yes?” You know consent is important, so you pull away from him; a little part of you did so because you wanted to see the marks on his neck.
“You know I put time away for moments like these.” God, he has a schedule for anything. If it’s not a schedule, it’s a vague yet coherent thought of what he wants to do after doing this other thing. He gives you a look, while he meant it to tell you that you should stop, it tells you the opposite. He wants you to continue, but he still thinks you shouldn’t.
“These moments,” You take his hands in yours, hoping it changes his mind; that is for planning out ahead for certain things such as these. “are not meant to be scheduled.”
“Alright.” You’re about to question what ‘alright’ means when he brings you in for a kiss.
Making out - spontaneously - had always been this way with him. He gets lost in it for a second, then tells you that you should reconsider the moment and finally gives in to his urges.
Though they’d never gotten interrupted before.
“Yo Kyoya!” Hikaru stumbles into the backroom rather loudly. It was clear he was looking for him. “You’ve been taking a long time in here.”
Soon enough, he rounds the corner and finds you just about pulling away from each other. Not that the action would have mattered anyway, since the hickeys, disheveled hair and swollen lips would’ve given it away.
“Ha.” He lets out a weird laugh that sounds sorta sarcastic but then bursts out laughing. In the blink of an eye, he runs out of the backroom, screaming, “GUYS YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!” He’s back in a matter of seconds.
Kyoya can do nothing but fix his hair with a comb he got out of nowhere and accept his fate; he offers you the comb when he’s done. For a man that is about to suffer, he’s awfully calm.
“What is it?” Tamaki is the first in the room. Obviously with Hikaru hollering that loud, there had to be something interesting back here. The king looks like he’d ran over here.
When his eyes land on the two of you, he gasps dramatically; then again, he does everything dramatically. “Mommy, what are you doing here?! Who is this man?!” He knows the fact that you're dating very well.
“I’m sorry but we’re getting a divorce.” Kyoya plays along. You gotta entertain Tamaki or else bad things happen.
“I heard divorce!” Next is Kaoru, who jogs in. He stares at you two before he looks at the fake-sobbing king. “Mom and dad are getting a divorce? Absolutely preposterous.” It’s sarcastic, you can tell.
“What?” Honey walks in, closely followed by Mori. Mori, as always, is nonchalant; though he seems to smile a little at the situation. “Does that mean no more cakes?”
“Well, the funding all came from me,” Kyoya states, which seems to make Tamaki sob louder. “but it’s most likely that custody will fall onto me.”
“What is this, roleplay?” Haruhi looks tired, though you can really blame her. This club and its energetic members are utterly exhausting at times. Everyone looks at her, expecting her to cooperate; which miraculously, she does.
“Alright,” She sighs. “Who’s our new dad?”
“What do you mean who’s ‘our new dad’?!” Tamaki shrieks, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her. “You’re my daughter! You’re staying in my custody!”
“By the way you’re grabbing her, I don’t think so.” Kyoya says, reading from a manila file folder he’d brandished out of nowhere. Peeking over his shoulder, you can see that they’re papers about the club, but you know that they’re pretending they’re something like divorce papers.
“Yeah, ex-dad!” Kaoru chimes in, pointing his finger at Tamaki as if he were making a Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney accusation. You’re not sure if ‘ex-dad’ is a word though.
“Stop grabbing our sister like that!” Hikaru continues. He, quite roughly, pulls Haruhi away from Tamaki’s grasp like a ragdoll; though she looks like she’s used to it.
“Anyway, who’s our new dad?” Honey asks.
“Him, of course.” Kyoya points his thumb in your direction.
You’ve never felt so betrayed in your life.
#⚠️nsfw🙈#ohshc kyoya x reader#ohshc kyoya x male reader#ohshc x reader#ohshc x male reader#kyoya x male reader#kyoya ootori x male reader#kyoya x reader
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Interview with Till about his life: he fought with his father, killed his beloved dog, swam on a wild river and worked on suffering. How Till Lindemann's mind works
"I will finish you off" and why you fought for the German army.
Werner Lindemann wanders around the room, interrupting the silence with strange questions, writing something down. His motive is to get to know his son and make him a friend. But it's complicated. Generational conflict.
"My island of tranquility is shaken every day. The day before yesterday, a guy pulled on my socks because his were torn. Yesterday he didn't put out a single lamp in the house. Now, with voluptuous delight, he spits cherry pits into the cat's fur. Is this grown boy really an adult?"
The apprenticeship in Rostock, where you have to do window production after graduation, is the limit of boredom. Till Lindemann moved to his father in the countryside so that he could forget about the hustle and bustle of the city and not fall under the article for anti-social attitudes. He thought of a new life, in which there was no pointless work, and arranged an attic in his father's house.
In the mornings over coffee, he scolded life that everything went according to schedule. And listened very loudly to music - electronics and metal. My father didn't understand and grumbled: “I matured late. Naturally, I wanted to listen to the music I liked, but I could not get my hands on these records. For example, my father did not understand when I bought the Alice Cooper record for a month's salary.
Werner Lindemann was a children's writer who went through the war.
At the height of his career he disappeared for weeks on literary tours - his fame spread to teachers and librarians across the country. His father pecked at Lindemann for refusing to work and promised to turn him in:
"My willful child. What doesn't fit his standards is rejected as nonsense or crap." So he took a job as a carpenter, where he made shovel cuttings and cart wheels. The head foreman constantly drank vodka during the day, didn't want to be annoyed with questions and addressed the long-haired Lindemann with the nickname: "Mozart!" This suited him.
Werner Lindemann talked about war, hard existence and limitations. For example, about a grenade splinter that remained in his body. Lindemann did not believe in all these stories - but categorically did not accept service, war and murder:
“After that I objected: “I would hide, I would not go to war. Why did you even let yourself be dragged into this? You could have hidden."
And he said: “It didn't work out. They searched for it and it took away."
Then I said: “I would rather go under arrest. Never in my life, I would go to the front line to shoot people. It's against my nature. It would be better if I went to jail."
Much of the time father and son were simply silent, even while watching television.
"He regularly made me feel guilty, to say the least, he placed himself on a pedestal towards me: I shouldn't complain. At your age, I ran barefoot through the stubble, and in my stomach - a potato in a uniform."
The only acceptance is Mike Oldfield's music: "One day my father came to grumble again. At that moment I was listening to Mike Oldfield, and he sat down and said: "That sounds interesting."
For me it was like a quantum leap: my father sits in my room, listens to my music and thinks it was good. Probably because of melancholy. He was sitting in a rocking chair that I made myself - at the time I was working as a carpenter on a farm. I, too, always sat in an armchair, immersed myself in music and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes."
The conflict was intensified by a fight. Lindemann bought a Trabant car, installed speakers in it and tested the sound - loud as usual. “Then my father came and I had to turn off this fucking music. It was kind of loud for him. He was then fiddling around his cases of flowers, and then suddenly the situation escalated. I think he slapped me while I was still in the car.
He leaned toward me and hit me with the back of his hand. I made some bullshit remarks like, "Leave me alone," something like that. That was a provocation to him, and he said: "If you do that again, I'll hit you for real." And I said, "Then you'll get it back. Because you're crazy. Don't you dare to hit me anymore."
And then he hit me with his palm again. He wasn't controlling himself.
He was exalting himself. Instantly he introduced himself as a boxer - he had boxed in the Hitler Youth - and I just... I thought I didn't hit him, I just pushed him away. And then he stood in front of me again, "Come on, I'll finish you, you haven't got a chance!" Somehow. After that, he went up to the attic and threw all my stuff out the window.
It happened over the weekend, my sister was there, a lot of screaming, serious drama. Then I packed my things, put them in the car, went to a friend's house and never went into his house again. At first I lived with this friend, and a week later I bought myself a house in the village."
His father's book is about his son, which the son will only open up after the death of the father.
Lindemann is a late child. He was born when his father was 36. The gap in their relationship was felt in everyday life and perception of the world. Werner Lindemann woke up early in the morning, worked with the circular saw under the windows and did not understand when his son slept until noon after a working week.
Lindemann's parents then lived separately, but kept in touch. Mom worked as a journalist and discussed her texts with his father. "She still lived in Rostock and always came to see him only on weekends. Mostly on Sundays she came back quite early, because she couldn't stand the stress of being with him, either."
In 1988, the book “Mike Oldfield im Schaukelstuhl Notizen eines Vaters" In this book, Lindemann Senior describes the relationship with his son (whom he calls Timm in the book), who settled with him at the age of 18. The book was written in the 80s and laid on the table until the German Democratic Republic and the Federal Republic of Germany were reunited.
Werner Lindemann wanted his son to take up writing too. But this only amused him, although as a child he wrote poetry. At the age of 13, little Till Lindemann and his father were returning home along the bumpy road to Mecklenburg. They talked about career self-determination:
"You should already have thoughts about what you want to become, boy." My answer: "I don't know yet, maybe a fisherman on the high seas."
But immediately, no matter what I said, objections arose: “But then you have to get a certificate of maturity. But then you will be away all the time. But then you won't be able to start a relationship."
There was always a “but”.
At some point it got on my nerves, as usual. And I said: "Worst case scenario, I'll just become a writer.
I still remember how alienated his face became. "And what do you think then, what do I do! It's a very hard job! In fact, it's not even a job, it's a passion. And it's a job that's supposed to be enjoyable."
I said, "I don't know anybody who works with pleasure."
"Yeah, that's the problem. You have to look for a job that gives you pleasure." Then I say again, "But some people never get to choose..." This gigantic discussion happened because I didn't take his profession seriously. At the same time, he was completely lost, funny!"
Lindemann thoughtfully read his father's book, in which he comprehends their relationship, after his death. Faked for hidden anger and indecision. For example, in a situation where their dog Kurt was bitten by a fox. The father was frightened because of rabies: “At the same time, we did not even know whether he was bitten by a fox or not. The father immediately called the huntsman. But I said: no one will enter this courtyard and shoot the dog. I'll do it myself if I really need it. At some point I really had to kill the dog."
Lindemann is not a monster. The animals he fiddled with are an important attribute of childhood. He had an aquarium and hamsters, brought mice and rats home, and was friends with dogs. “Like many children of new buildings, he felt the need for someone alive, in need of love,” said Werner Lindemann. Sometimes the appearance of an animal in the house was surprising:
“This guy will never say what he's up to. He appears on the doorstep at the same time as me. He gets out from his vehicle, throws his coat open and puts a young black shepherd in my hands. "Your Christmas present!"
Till's father is speechless. My son stands before me like the sun's little brother. Touchingly concerned, he directs me into the house, working out a plan for the animal husbandry, accommodation and diet of our new pet housemate.
With confusion, a question flies from my lips, "Wheredid you get the dog from?" "Timm" is gibbering, "Imagine, the mason in the barnyard wanted to hang him, simply wanted to strangle him with a rope, said he was a worthless eater..."
Werner Lindemann died of stomach cancer in 1993, when his son was 30. They didn't finally reconcile, but Till visited him in his last days and was there for him with his mother: "They couldn't be without each other, even though they lived apart. Unreal, but my mother never had another man afterwards. To this day she can't let go of him."
- Not going to the Olympics in Moscow and ending up in the German ghetto
Lindemann had the knowledge and the potential to be a swimmer. And a shyness that pounded harder three days before the competition than concerts in front of crowds of thousands. "I know how difficult it is to develop willpower and stamina and instill those attributes. In the GDR this was instilled in us by coaches and so-called functionaries."
Lindemann came to swimming at the age of eight and devoted his entire youth to the sport. He would get up for training at five in the morning and pass out in the evening. His grandmother watched him from the stands. At a competition in Leipzig she shouted at the coach, who told Lindemann off for a poor result. The grandmother took the coach by the ear and said: "How do you talk to my grandson?"
Sports tightened up his upbringing and developed self-discipline. “Drilling - probably the boy has already received this experience as a swimmer,” Lindemann's father wrote. - Once he had to take second place in a competition, but by no means first place. Of course, he got carried away, forgot about it, became the first, thanks to which he received a shouting for indiscipline. And whenever he lost in the future, his coach would torture him at practice for a long time and yelled at him: "Even if you win, you're not a winner yet!"
Lindemann swam the 1.5 km freestyle and could have gone to the 1980 Olympics in Moscow. Everything was ruined when he left the hotel without permission during a competition in Florence: "I didn't want to run, but just wanted to look at the city. Cars, bikes, girls. I was caught and kicked out of the team, but then I didn't give the required results either."
Lindemann competed at the European Junior Championships, but did not go any higher. After the story in Florence, his career in sport slipped away. Perhaps an abdominal injury influenced his departure. Lindemann is gone, but he doesn't yearn: "I was relatively young. There were no good [memories] left. I was glad it was over."
"The hardest part was getting back to normal. I fell into a real hole. My home was no longer a sports school, but a ghetto in Rostock. Now I stood out through drinking and fighting. I used to be surrounded only by beautiful ladies who were interested in swimming. Now I had fierce women standing in front of me asking, "How come you don't drink?" When I was shy about approaching a girl, it was interpreted as: "Are you gay?"
Lindemann now works with a coach and swims a few kilometers before his tours to get in shape: "When I exercise, I feel a certain lightness - not only physically, but also mentally. I just feel better. The main problem is staying in shape. That's where self-discipline comes into play. Teeth grinding is important."
- Three weeks in the wild and loneliness as a creative tool
Emotionally, concerts = sports:
"How do I go on tour? Hungry. And happy. It is good to compare concerts with sport. You don't want to do both at first. You don't want to go on stage. You don't want to go to the pool. You don't want to go to the boxing ring. It all happens with reluctance. It has to be accepted somehow, that's life: spring, summer, fall, winter.
When it's done, winter's gone, the blooming begins, greenery appears, it gets bright, and you start to get a taste for it. When it's over, you feel happy. Then the body produces a sea of chemistry, a lot of happiness hormones. I think the body rewards itself."
The stage, like sports, is an embarrassment, but a necessity. Lindemann wore dark glasses in order to collect fewer views from the audience. Therefore, a couple of steps before the water, he looked at the pool with a shiver. You need to cope with yourself in order to open up to new emotions.
Lindemann's gut requires solitude and moderate solitude. This is the point:
“Loneliness is always good for a creative push - you drink a glass of wine and you feel even shitier. Art is not complete without suffering; art exists to compensate for suffering."
With his friend Joey Kelly, Lindemann spent three weeks on the Yukon River. They paddled through the wilderness in a kayak for eight to 10 hours each and lived in a tent. Lindemann didn't take a tape recorder with him, so he transferred the lyrics wandering in his head on paper.
They were catching inspiration and atmosphere:
"There were times when we wouldn't say a word for hours, but then: look there, look there! It was breathtakingly beautiful. These relatively fast-changing panoramas and skies, layers of clouds, the colors.
Except for a few bears and wolves, it's hard to see anyone else out there, it's exhilarating. Along the way we saw two hunters setting traps. No one else.
I grew up in the countryside, and I have a very strong connection to nature. I love fishing, hunting. It's an archaic experience that I like to revisit over and over again. When I'm in the city for too long, I start to miss it."
To recreate situations in the Yukon, Lindemann and Kelly trained for nine months on the Rhine river in Germany because of its liveliness.
"We went down the Rhine to where the transport ships create huge bow waves. If we hadn't had a coach with us, we probably would have been sunk by the side wave impact already during our first attempt," Lindemann said.
Together with Kelly, he had four sessions with two coaches and swam from Cologne to Koblenz [more than 100 kilometers by car]. Lindemann trained separately each week on the lakes in Mecklenburg. It's both physically challenging and savage identical to being natural.
In 2015, Till started his solo project Lindemann. On the album Skills In Pills, the song Yukon was released, in which the lyrics appeared first, and then the music.
- "My lyrics come from pain rather than desire."
The country boy is big and not much of a talker. That's how the Rammstein members saw him at the start, when they were hanging out at home. "He looked cool, like a big peasant talking one sentence an hour," keyboard player Christian "Flake" Lorenz recalled. - He always had food and vodka. He'd just steal a couple of ducks somewhere and cook them on a tray. And then, frozen like in Sleeping Beauty, there were people lying in corners and on trunks in his house."
Lindemann loves and appreciates home gatherings. This came from my father, who always had guests. “In my opinion, this is the little bit that I inherited from him. Throwing parties and gathering people. Throwing parties and getting people together. He just enjoyed being a good host. The house was always full of guests from Leipzig, from Rostock, foreign guests, even from Kazakhstan.
It was always exciting for him. He stood at the stove, cooked, bought an abundance of wine, and there was always a fire in the garden. At some point he stopped drinking, then he left the party at 21:00 and the whole company continued to feast. And in the morning he got up at four, cleaned and tidied up."
Till Lindemann is about self-digging, overcoming and childish shyness, which is covered by a pumped-up figure of a swimmer. This is how Lindemann decrypts himself:
• “And I really am like a big child - ill-mannered, but harmless. People think that I am always strong, explosive. This is not true. I am sensitive and easily hurt, but in love I am romantic and passionate."
• “At the very beginning, you sit somewhere in a dark room, open a bottle of wine and figure out how to make the lyrics popular with the music. At first you only have a vague idea of what it could be.
And when, three years after recording, mixing, and more mixing, developing the artwork, all this nonsense, then you stand on stage, and what you came up with then really works, when you manage to get 20 thousand people to raise their hands, then you experience incredible sensations."
• “Art is a kind of therapy.
When I feel that something is arising inside me, domineering and is most often dark, I need to give it a way out, otherwise it will simply crush me. So destruction and self-destruction are the two pillars on which my creativity is based.
But everyone chooses this for himself.
• “My lyrics arise from feelings and dreams, but still more from pain than by desire. I often have nightmares, and I wake up at night sweating, as I see terrible bloody scenes in my dreams. My lyrics are a kind of valve for the lava of feelings in my soul.
We are all struggling to hide behind good manners and outward decency, but in fact we are governed by instincts and feelings: hunger, thirst, horror, hatred, the desire for power and sex. Of course, there is also additional energy in us - this is love. Without it, all human feelings would fade away."
- "When you're constantly living someone else's life, it's very hard to get back into your own skin. I like that in principle, but sometimes you start to get confused - are you out of a role or not yet. You're already Till, or you're still a homicidal maniac."
- "I hate the noise. I hate the chatter. I expose myself to it, which is pure masochism. And then I have to protect myself from it. Noise makes you crazy. You die in it."
• “I think there is no God. And if he is and actually allows all the misfortunes on this earth, then he must punish me along with other sufferings. I will not pray to such a god."
This is how the members of Rammstein see Till - flexible and with a split personality:
Guitarist Paul Landers: "Till is so good that when you let him know that his lyrics should go in a different direction, the very next day he brings a new version of the song."
Guitarist Richard Kruspe: “He's a hell of an extreme man. He dives very deeply into situations where I cannot follow him. Everything he does is very extreme; I don't know anyone who does it. "
Drummer Christoph Schneider: "I would not want to be in Till's shoes: his soul is tormented by doubts and contradictions, he is equally a moralist and a monster."
June 1, 2021 - Translate by Lindemann Belgium
#very interesting#till's life#till is love 🖤#till lindemann#till 2021#werner lindemann#flake lorenz#paul landers#christoph schneider#richard kruspe#oliver riedel#joey kelly#rammstein#t.lindemann#t.lindemann 2021
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so i never found a post about rules for you and if i accidentally break a rule then sorry but im pulling an all nighter soon and i really need some bnha fuel, whether it be nsfw or fluff- female reader if possible, im fine with most characters but i do specifically like a few which are bakugo, kurogiri, twice, kirishima, iida, all might and aizawa so 😌 do as many as you want, please and thank you
...So you've definitely already pulled your all nighter...I'm so sorry😭
Since it is the holiday season 😌 how about some scenarios based off of Christmas songs~?
Words: 1,837
Warnings: None
~*~*~*~*
Bakugou
"If I break my leg I swear to God-" You meant to sound threatening, but the shakiness in your voice gave it away. Bakugou watches you lace up your ice skates, rolling his eyes as he held out his hand to help you up.
"You're not going to fall, dumbass. Hold on to me and you'll be fine." Confident as ever, you glanced at him as his face flushed pink even though it was freezing inside the ice skating rink.
It was almost Christmas and Bakugou took you out to do something festive. Because of his quirk, Bakugou had an internship overseas in the tropics and you came along for support, but also since Christmas was soon. It was different not seeing any snow, but Bakugou had a plan to make it seem like home.
Which is why, as soon as he dragged you here, you knew he must've known how to already ice skate and that left you to suffer. On the bright side, you could spend time with him, but the downside?
You definitely would've preferred being at the beach.
Wobbling to your feet, you hold onto Bakugou's hand for dear life as he helps you walk to the opening to the rink, smirking. "You're like a newborn fawn."
Scowling, you couldn't even bother to retort with all your attention on trying not to fall. What amazed you the most was that Bakugou had been walking backward this whole time, smoothly. Because of that, he steps onto the ice first gliding slightly.
You stop right at the edge and glance up at him in question. Rolling his eyes again, Bakugou gently tugs you forward and as soon as you step on the ice, your foot slides all the way forward and you know your about to fall on your back.
Firm hands grip you tightly as you try to steady yourself, Bakugou snorting out laughs as he glides behind you. His arms wrap around your waist and his warm breath brushes your ear making you shiver for a different reason.
"Push off with your right foot and I'll push too. Then push off with your left. Alternate your legs and I'll hold you upright."
Nodding your head, you do what he says.
"If we were at the beach right now, we wouldn't have to do this." You mumble out, getting the hang of the rhythm.
Bakugou snorts again and pulls you tighter against him. "Not bad, (Y/n). Keep it up and maybe there will be some presents under the tree this year."
"Does Santa visit penthouse suites at hotels?"
"Haha. Now you're definitely on the naughty list, dumbass."
Before you knew it, Bakugou had loosened his grip around your waist and you realized just how well you were doing. "Hey look! I'm-"
Before you could express your excitement, you felt yourself falling backward and Bakugou couldn't catch you in time as you both landed in a pile on the hardened ice.
It was quiet for a second before giggles escaped your throat as you rolled off Bakugou. Looking over at him, he was staring up at the ceiling a little dazed. Leaning over, you peck his lips gently and watch as his eyes come back into focus. He grins and props himself up on his arms, moving in to kiss you again.
"Merry Christmas, (Y/n)"
"Take me to the ice-skating rink downtown
Even though it's 100 degrees, gotta get out,
Ain't no ice or no chills, no snowmen to build, most of our friends at the beach,
But my baby's in town and we're gonna do some winter things."
→ Winter Things❄️- Ariana Grande
Iida
(Y'all pls😭 the song I chose-)
Iida fussed around the Christmas tree, trying to make it look picture perfect as you flipped through his Christmas playlist, yawning at all the repetitive songs on there.
"Really babe? I understand all these songs are classics but don't you get tired of hearing the same thing over and over again?" Furrowing your eyebrows, you exit out of his playlist and open YouTube.
"(Y/n), I could use some help over here..." Comes his strained voice making you look over. Although he ignores your comment completely, it's clear to see why. Iida had managed to tie his hands around his back, tangled in lights, with a ribbon draped over his shoulders haphazardly.
He looked all too appealing sitting all tied up with his pleading eyes asking you for help. Smirking devilishly, you type in the Christmas song you had been looking for this whole time.
Putting the phone down, you strut over to Iida with a smirk on your face and his eyes widened in disbelief. The minute you dropped your ass low to the ground, you couldn't hold in your laughter as you then crawled towards him, arching your back as you did.
With his glasses disarray and mouth open, you crawl on his lap, reaching behind him to undo the lights while still humming the words. At a loss for words, Iida is immobile as you roll your hips over his lap, purposely leaning over his shoulder to see what you're doing, pressing yourself against him.
The lights fall free from Iida's wrists, but he doesn't move as you wrap your arms around his neck, brushing your lips against his teasingly.
He gulps as the song ends, closing his mouth. Smiling innocently at him, you peck his lips whispering softly, "Merry Christmas, Iida."
Later on, after he recovered from his initial shock, he lectured you on the importance of electrical safety and how he was in a hazardous situation.
"Santa I've been naughty but I swear I can be nice,
I'll throw it back baby for a stocking full of ice,
Diamonds, Rubies, Sapphires too,
Gimme that Gucci bag and let's see what I can do."
→ MERRY LiTMAS🔥- Mahogany Lox
Aizawa
Snow fluttered beautifully outside the window you and Aizawa were looking out of. The two of you were curled up together on a lounge chair, a weighted blanket keeping the chills away as the fireplace crackled off to the side. Both of you sat in comfortable silence, occasionally drinking hot cocoa and overall enjoying the peacefulness around you two.
The lights from the Christmas tree glowed softly, being the only other light source besides the fireplace and you sighed contently, curling further into Aizawa's side. His arm under the blanket curled around your waist and held you close as a light thump made its way between your bodies on top of the blanket.
Smiling, you reach from under the blanket, cold air coating your arm as you petted Aizawa's cat. The cat being Aizawa's because it was more attached to him than anything you've ever seen. The cat purred softly and you felt Aizawa kiss your forehead.
Humming softly, you tilt your head up and catch his eyes as he was staring down at you. Smiling, you tilt your chin, silently asking for a kiss to which he responded. Aizawa pecks your lips a few times and you savor the taste of chocolate on his lips, peeking your tongue out slightly to lick them.
A low growl escapes from his lips and you smile. "Don't even think about ruining this sweet moment, kitten. We have all the time in the world to do things like that. Right now I just want you to enjoy this peacefulness with me."
Snorting a laugh, you turn away and pick the cat up to cuddle him close to your face. "Awh, did you hear that kitten? Daddy Aizawa is thinking naughty."
Aizawa's grip tightened on your waist and you hide your smile behind the cat, turning to look at him fully, the cat staring at him too before meowing loudly.
Aizawa cracks a grin and leans down to kiss the cat and you release your hold on him, watching as the cat snuggles between to two of you. Aizawa watches too and you lean over to kiss him again.
"Merry Christmas, Daddy Aizawa."
"...(Y/n)."
"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,
Jack Frost nipping at your nose,
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir,
And folks dressed up like Eskimos."
→ The Christmas Song🎄- Nat King Cole
All Might
It all started as a charity event.
Toshinori was offered to dress up as Santa, in his All Might form. In all honesty, you got a kick out of seeing him with a fake white beard on and glasses. The whole idea of a "buff" Santa was hot in general, but knowing it was your man, made it even hotter.
The number of kids who showed up just to see him was unbelievable and although Toshinori wouldn't be moving around much, just sitting, you worried that he wouldn't be able to hold his form for long. It wasn't hard to tell it was him and some kids had to of known it was really All Might, hell, even some of the parents came to him. It was hard not too jealous at watching the other women sit on his laps and twirl the fake beard around their fingers.
Toshinori didn't seem effected by it and you knew you could trust him. But, nonetheless, working as one of "Santa's elves," you ended up seeing everything that happened. It was an all-day job and the line of people never seemed to shrink.
It wasn't until late in the evening you finally seemed to catch your breath and Toshinori ho-ho-hoed at the last child. The person running the charity event hurried to close everything up and you heard Toshinori let out the biggest sigh. Since you were concerned all day, you ran over to him instantly. "Are you okay?"
He smiled tiredly up at you and let out another ho-ho. "Well, what a lovely young lady! What would you like for Christmas?"
Confused, you watch as Toshinori pats his lap, motioning you to sit. Feeling heat rise to your cheeks, you look around and see everyone else tearing down the decoration, too engrossed in their own world. "What's wrong, (Y/n)?"
Looking back, you saw the playful glint in his eyes and sighed before reluctantly sitting on his thigh. Wrapping your arms around his neck you raise your eyebrow in question and pretend to think of what you want.
"You."
Toshinori's eyes widened and he smirked, leaning closer to you. "Have you been a good girl this year?"
"Have I?" You whisper, everything around you two fading into nothing. It was only you and Toshinori at that moment, your head being filled with naughty ideas.
"I guess we'll just have to see about that later." He murmured, kissing your lips lightly before tugging his fake beard down. "Okay, I really need to change back now."
Scrambling off him, Toshinori changes back and you help clean everything up, excited to get home.
"Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing,
A ring, I don't mean on the phone,
Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight"
→ Santa Baby🎅-Eartha Kitt
#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bnha#mha#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha imagines#mha imagines#bakugo katsuki#bakugo x reader#Bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki#iida x reader#iida tenya#shoto aizawa#aizawa x reader#all might#all might x reader#yagi toshinori
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