#I need to draw physically more the blue light is getting to my brain

[xinanigans]

Markhelly thangs from last week (I’m very normal about them)

[just-a-space-duck]

Abstract ART

A Murderbot Meta Essay

My favorite thing about fandom is seeing how everyone interprets the same source material. And as someone who's most into character design, it’s so fun seeing how different artists draw the same character, even when said character already has a very clear canon design. What elements do artists leave behind as just part of the official art style and which parts do they interpret as core parts of the character's design? Where there's ambiguity, what do they add? How does each person depict “wide sunny eyes” or “quite tall for an elf”?

And with The Murderbot Diaries, characters are given very little physical descriptions, even for a book series. Even with the official illustrations and out-of-text author statements (which I choose to put into an optionally canon status; it's the TLK fan in me) we're working with relatively little in terms of what the characters look like. And that makes Murderbot fanart so fun for me.

And maybe one day I'll gush about the designs of the other characters, but you saw the title, and I'm here to talk about the most fascinating fanon character design trend I've thus seen: Abstract ART/Perihelion.

ART is a spaceship. Ok, it's also sometimes drones. The way ART functions, out of any character in the series, the argument that its true form is merely the physical stuff composing its brain is the most founded. And Murderbot does sometimes make specific reference to ART's brain as being what ART specifically is. But without getting too far into a philosophical discussion on the relationship between the mind and the physical world and what constitutes the self, ART is largely presented to us as a really large ship that can easily connect with other tech. Murderbot does frequently describe it acting in ways similar to a being with a more human body like rolling its eyes and breathing over Murderbot’s shoulder, but it's all clearly metaphor. And that works for a word-only medium.

But what if you want to create an image of these characters, especially one that had little to no accompanying text or audio or only words in dialogue? What if you want to draw the giant spaceship that all of the puny humans (and puny human/bot constructs) walk around in actually rolling its eyes?

Well, you abstract it.

And that's really fascinating to me. People depict ART as all these things that are definitely not a spaceship or a drone or any machine for the benefit of the viewers.

Given that this is largely a fan invention, there's far fewer restrictions on what Abstract ART looks like. (Well this is fiction, so really the only restriction is the imagination of the creator(s).) We do get some information to use as a guideline. ART early on is described as “big and diffuse”, it's able to give a lot of focus to a lot of things at once, and most of Ship ART (Murderbot, why'd you have to nickname your mutual administrative assistant that?) and its crew uniforms are dark blue, black, and white. Those few things as well as its personality paint how people draw it.

Now onto my favorite part, all of the different trends I've seen with Abstract ART. I've not delved that deep into MB fanart so this is very far from comprehensive.

It’s Just Ship ART:

Just keeping it to what it literally is in the books. I love all Abstract ARTs, but this one I like both for how closely it sticks to canon and the sheer creativity needed to show a sentient spaceship/transport emoting, thinking, and interacting. We already have stuff like this in the books, like when it flickered the bathroom lights to communicate with a certain angry secunit, but there's tons more that can be done: movement of the cameras, images on display devices, various appliances running, etc.. It’s a tough one to work with, so props to anyone who takes this approach.

Abstract Abstract ART Art (Yeah, my brain hurts too):

I'm kinda just lumping every version here that isn't ART's physical form(s) nor resembles a human or other animal. This is my favorite take because ART is just weird already. It's a super intelligent, scary machine whose existence is kept secret so it can fight capitalism while simultaneously doing a hundred other things ten times better than you can. If you're going to give it a form separate from its machine body/bodies, I say make it strange, eldrichian even. Make it a bunch of pixels, a starfield, a giant flame, many many eyes (oh I'll get to the eyes), a glowing sofa, everything everywhere all at once.

Creature ART:

I find this take interesting just cause there's a lot of fun to be had with picking an animal (or animals or fantastical critters) and applying their attributes and stereotypes to our favorite anti-corporate research vessel. Plus they work well in representing both ART'S human-like attributes and its very much not human-like attributes, with fantastical or hybrid versions having a more eldritch or cryptid vibe. While you could go with any animal, off the top of my head the ones that feel real fitting are an octopus (high intelligence that evolved separately from humans, multiple limbs for doing multiple things), a hydra (multiple heads, multiple areas of focus), a blue whale (giant, fits ART'S colors, rare, travels far), or really any bird (it's a spaceship).

Humanoid ART:

Probably my least favorite interpretation (all interpretations are valid, don't listen to me) just cause I feel more could be done to highlight that ART is, well, a bot and not at all human. However, I do get it. If you're going to give ART a form for the benefit of the audience, might as well make it look like what most audience members would have the easiest time reading the emotions and actions of (and it's not like ART doesn't have human-like qualities). Plus, you can still get weird with it: have this form change shape, give it unnatural proportions, make it a clearly non-human color, etc. And there are things the human form can do that a cat or a circle or a literal ship can't and maybe you want ART to do those things.

Eyes:

It’s very common to give ART eyes, or even just have ART be mostly eyes. For one, it gives it easily readable emotions, even if it lacks other facial features or means of making human gestures. Secondly, eyes work really well with ART's abilities and personality. ART can focus on multiple things at once. ART can be very scary and overbearing. It even works with ART's gentler side, if given the right expression.

Color:

ART is already associated with the colors dark blue and black (and to a lesser extent white) in canon. Like Ship ART is literally blue, at least parts of it are. And because of this, I have yet to encounter an Abstract ART that isn't at least 80% blue. (Fun fact: I used to associate ART with the color orange. Can you guess why?) Interestingly though, a large number of artists go with a powder blue or turquoise/azure for ART. I do not mean to be a color snob; please classify colors however. I just find this to be a particularly fascinating trend, cause most English speakers would classify those shades as light blue or at least not dark blue. I wonder if this has anything to do with the light/turquoise blue = high tech association. Now that I’m writing this out, I’m curious what color terms are used in translations of TMBD. Looking at you Russian version.

Diegesis:

Ok, so, final point: how real in-universe is Abstract ART? I hypothesized that the reason for this trend is to make ART easier to portray in images for viewers, but I wonder what in-universe explanation people have for this, if any. In most fanart, other characters (or at least Murderbot) interact with Abstract ART as if it is actually there or at least visible. I go with the headcanon that only other machines and some augmented humans can see its abstract form. This does stretch if not completely contradict canon, but fuck it, this is fiction and we get to have fun with it.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed my little ramble about a fandom trend. I'm gonna go eat a sandwich now.

[akai-akai]

okay so I've ranted about my "Simon Riley is a Dork" philosophy, now I bring you...

John MacTavish is a NERD.

I see how he's often pinned as the rambunctious "airhead" of the team, and that may be true to some to degree but he's not STUPID.

Listen, this man is a demolition expert. That involves all kinds of maths, measurements, electrical work, mechanics, technical shit I'm not well-versed in, etc. Demolitions experts have to be pretty damn smart to be considered experts.

I think Johnny was 100% a robotics kid growing up. Maybe even dabbled in coding and mathematics club. I seriously think he was one of the nerdy kids in highschool/secondary school.

And though that part of him is still very much there, it's quieter now. Shrouded by professionalism and experience and maturity. But then, sometimes when he's had a few too many drinks, or if Simon plucks just the right strings, he'll go on these long tangents about the different mathematics, or about this robot he built by hand in highschool by himself in his parents' garage-turned-robotics-lab— the garage lab that he accidentally set on fire and blew up a can of old hairspray his sister had left on his desk. (He totally wasn't using it as a blowtorch to kill some poor unsuspecting bug, his sister just left the spray there and he didn't notice it. That small burn scar on his left hand is completely unrelated.)

And of course, Simon will sit quietly and patiently, watching the way Johnny's eyes light up and his face gets more and more expressive, arms and hands moving wildly, animatedly. He's so passionate, it makes Simon's eyes soften with affection.

And when Johnny's especially focused on the blueprints in front of him during a mission, clock ticking and pressure weighing down on him, he's a sight to behold. Somehow, that's when he works best. Brows pinched, lips pressed in a tight line as his brain works over the details, pieces a plan together as he mutters under his breath, pen scratching on the paper, recites numbers for the other team members to remember. And then his brows smooth out and he gets this giddy look as things click together in his mind and his head snaps up and he gets to work— John knows to let him take the lead here, and quietly notes to himself that John MacTavish would make for a great Captain down the line.

Sometimes when he can't sleep or his mind's a little too loud, he'll sit up at the little desk in his barracks with the dim lamp illuminating a worn-out blue sketchbook, pencil eraser trapped between his teeth as he scans his old notes and sketches and unresolved equations. Mundane math and physics that doesn't take a lot of mental power, but still relaxes him nonetheless.

In addition, he'd be good at sketching. Specifically blueprints and modeling. Dimensional stuff and perspective. Finds a quiet corner somewhere on base— usually that old tree out by the dirt track— and sketches away models, some of which are totally unrealistic but he doesn't care. He'll sketch a giant sci-fi atomic canon model with realistic mathematics and semi-viable science behind it if he wants to.

When he needs to memorize a new model, he'll draw each individual piece, each little working part as if he's dissecting it and mapping it out in his brain. Sometimes when Simon flips through Johnny's sketchbooks, he'll find 10+ pages filled with the same model, over and over, and it's like he can see every thought process, every reasoning, every time Johnny clicks something together in his mind.

Johnny is brilliant. He's a scientist, an expert in his field. He's a total nerd and I love him for it.

(His average shower thoughts are either complex science that would give the average person a migraine, or Simon's eyes. No in between.)

NSFW:

This time, the tables are turned. Johnny will be mid-ride on top of Simon in bed, purposely distracting himself in his mind to hold off his own release (bc it's a competition and he'll be damned if he finishes first) and then suddenly he'll remember a bomb blueprint he was deconstructing the previous day and he'll plop down, sitting up stock straight as he curses and something makes a PING! sound in his brain and suddenly he's leaning over while Simon raises a questioning brow, hands still firmly gripping Johnny's hips as he snatches his notebook and pen from his table side drawer, flops the book unceremoniously on top of Simon's chest, hunches over, and begins writing and muttering to himself.

And Simon just waits, halfway between disgruntled and amused. Just sorta resorts to grinding his hips upward— to which Johnny firmly plants his hips downward, keeping them still, and Simon just sighs and waits some more.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Simon's in love with this idiot, don't let him fool you. I love them a healthy amount.

[beauty-and-passion]

In thisisnotawebsite.com, bills fears are stated as "venetial blinds, 3d glasses, TV statics" do you have any theories or hcs for any of this? I loved your analysis of billford and bill in general so I'm pretty curious!!

Oh, that's a great question and I would be more than happy to brainstorm a little about those fears! Of course, everything I write is the result of my personal interpretations, so you and everyone else are free to add more :D

But before talking about Bill's fears, I would like to point out two things:

1. The apparently weird and random nature of these fears

Blinds, glasses, and TV static? I doubt anyone would've ever imagined them as Bill's fears.

However, their seemingly innocuous nature works great for a being like him. Bill isn't a normal human being - or another generic 3D being: he comes from a completely different dimension and he has powers beyond our imagination. He sees and experiences the world in a totally different way compared to us. So having apparently random elements as his fears emphasizes how different and "detached" his nature is from us even more.

2. The conceptual weight of these fears

I doubt Bill fears these things for what they are. Like, if someone gives him a physical pair of 3D glasses, I doubt he would run away screaming.

It's not the object per se that scares him. It's what the object implies or represents that scares him. And, again, we should take into consideration that he's a 2D being and experiences reality differently. So maybe what for us is normal, for him is a much more powerful representation of something else.

_______________

Said that, let me explain what I think these fears represent for Bill and why he fears them:

Venetian blinds

Venetian blinds are thin, horizontal strips of wood/plastic that can be moved to change the amount of light coming through a window.

When they are down, they look like a thin, flat surface. They're so smooth, they don't let any light pass through. They almost look like one, single, uneven surface.

Maybe, to Bill's eye, this flat, thin surface reminds him of the flat, thin surface of his own world. Maybe Euclydia was as flat and smooth as a blind. And when the blinds are down, they remind him of the flat nature of his world.

But Venetian blinds can also be moved: they can be tilted, to let the light pass through the slits, or raised completely.

The act of tilting and/or raising the blinds might remind Bill of the destruction of his dimension. From his perspective, he sees a once smooth surface move, break and suddenly the light shines through - a light that could remind him of all the stars he always watched.

So every time he sees blinds being adjusted, he sees a tragedy being reenacted: a world that breaks/gets destroyed and the light of stars passing through its fragments.

3D glasses

As we know from the art therapy note on thisisnotawebsite.com, Bill draws red and blue triangles. And we all associated red and blue with his parents, thus guessing those were their colors.

3D glasses are made of a red lens and a blue lens. One lens filters out all the red in the 2D image we're watching, the other lens filters out all the blue: as a result, our brains put together the resulting two images processed through our eyes and we can see in 3D.

But if we consider this mechanism through Bill's point of view, the mechanism behind 3D glasses implies that only by filtering out blue and red (aka the color of his parents), you can see the third dimension. Only by removing red and blue, you can see in 3D. Only by removing his parents, he could see in 3D.

These glasses could be a dark confirmation, for him: your parents had to die, for you to finally see the third dimension. They had to die. And they died. And they constantly die, every time their colors are removed. Because only if they die, you can see further. It's a bit like killing them over and over.

And maybe, this is also cruel irony for him. Because 3D glasses need his parents' color to work. His parents, who never saw nor understood the third dimension, are a means to allow a 3D vision of 2D things. Only by using (and killing) them, others can see in 3D. Maybe that's too cruel, even for Bill.

TV static

Bill said that, every time he tries to talk about the destruction of Euclydia, he blacks out and doesn't remember anything. Every time he blacks out (like in TBOB), it is shown through static very similar to the TV static he's so scared about.

In the past, I supposed that the static and Bill's blackout were a way to hint that Bill actually died in the destruction of Euclydia - that's why he cannot remember exactly what happened and blacks out every time he tries to.

Therefore the TV static might be a reminder of his own death. Of what he experienced, right after his world died and everyone else along with it.

This would also reconnect TV static with all other fears, because being afraid of the first time he died, implies the destruction of his place, the death of his parents and his own terrible mistake that caused all of that. It could be a terrible reminder of his own mortality and his past sin - both things Bill isn't able to deal with (not after eons in therapy, at least).

[bl4z33467]

(Cracks knuckles) Alright folks I remember how to draw

Fat fuck Vulpes by yours truly, Blaze Lander. Inspired by the lovely drawing by @yourmateyoya ,egged on by @legions-top-dog , and because i force you to deal with all my shitty drawings, @noomycatz

Yes, once again, i have put too much effort into a shitpost. Roughly 2 hours as I reused a canvas on ibis paint for a 5th drawing lmao

Yall can burn me at the stake later lol

Process below hehe i like to ramble

And just because i like to talk about my drawing process for characters with complex outfits, this is how my lobotomy brain does it:

First i do silly fun colored sketch. I use different colors to differentiate the "skeleton" from the, euh, fleshy bits, and the clothing. You can see lots of lines that would not be shown in the final product so it makes it confusing to look at.

Next i do a clean sketch.

This is where i clean up everything before doing the final lines. I use one color and a thin brush to make it easier to line over. Here i add any extra bits (like the top football armour) and "render the physics" as i call it, so properly drape cloth and the uhhh squish of stupid fat fuck vulpes' boobs and stomach. I also will balance the drawing here by flipping it and redrawing or using the drag tool.

Next is lining.

For this drawing, i used a 9.0 digital pen with a taper. Its my standard :þ. I kept my pen at the same size for this piece. Sometimes i line the outside darker to make the drawing stand out more. I decided not to as i wanted to give the drawing a more "serious" tone. (How serious can this be though lol-)You may notice on the arms little bits of the lines are missing, thats because i gave him some arm hair. I like make little details like that show over the lines. But since the one shading technique i used works with clipping masks, i had to but the arm hairs on a layer lower than the line art. Next is colour:

I colour in the drawing with midtones. Simple as. I tried to stick with warm colours besides his eyes, which are grey blue. Idc if they arent, im too lazy to google it. I mostly use flat colors but i did make his shirt a gradient. Next is do simple cell shading:

Depending on how i feel i shade with or without the colours in the back. I went with a sorta "non decrepit" light source here. Didnt want too much intensity. I used a deep marronish orange on a multiply layer on 45% opacity. Soft shading/lighting next:

I get intense with the soft shading. I use the airbrush with a deep maroon to add dark gradient and airbrush with a light pink to add a bit more depth. I usually use less light and more dark because im evil i like the intensity. I keep the layer the same amount of opacity and multiply it with the darks and soft light for the lights. Next are the shine highlights:

I use the dip pen hard with a taper to add light highlights of white on shiny bits like metal and eyes. I uses pure white, set the layer to 25% opacity, and use normal blending.

I also shade the lines because it makes the lines softer. I use a clipping layer on the line art, set the whole thing to a dark grey, and airbrush in darker and lighter parts. (I felt like a picture wasnt needed cuz its hard to notice.

For the background, i used a dark red i stole from the cell shaded layer, drew a vine pattern with the kaleidoscope ruler, and added a vignette. Vignettes are my cheat code for background hehe~ it makes the subject stand out while keeping suave, seriousness and formality. To make a subject pop out more, put the vignette behind the character but in front of the background. For more intensity but it on top of both.

Also- I usually draw with a level 10 stabilizer (i got shaky hands) but i drew with a 2 stabilizer so im surprised it came out so smoothly-

Also i gave him goggle tan lines because if i have to have them from playing tennis with sunnies, so does he.

[marciaillust]

Hey! I just wanted to say I’ve been following you forEVER now, and that your art has been inspiring me since i was a teenager. I was wondering if you could share a little about your rendering process? How did you improve it over the years, what did you learn you wish u knew sooner, stuff like that?

(Thanks anyway, and definitely getting myself ur new comic)

Hi! oh wow thank you so much for the kind words!

My rendering process hmmmm.... I will try to sum up the thoughts that come to my mind as I'm writing this, though I might be missing some proper vocabulary

The first thing that surfaced in my brain is exposition within a picture. This is what the picture focuses on - things in the light, or things in the shadow, and how much details each of these two receive rendering wise.

It's basically like taking a photo with a phone - if you click on a bright thing (say, a window), the phone will automatically adjust the exposition and all the other bright things will be visible(lotta detail), but the shadows will become turbo dark (no details). Alternatively, if you click on a dark shadow, all the dark things will become visible (details) but the hypothetical window will become blown out and turbo white (no details). You can basically have one or the other but never both. (or I guess you can who am I to tell anyone how to make art yanno no rules up in this house)

anyway, so for example, this pic^ focuses on the things in the dark, meaning everything in direct light receives no details.

and this pic^ focuses on the light and so all the cast shadows are pitch black.

One other thing that I learned a longass time ago was that edges(and shapes) are arguably the most important part of an object within a picture. Clean edges immediately call for focus, while softer or vague edges allow things to fade in the background and communicate the idea of a thing rather than showing you the thing itself. On a related note note, clean edges also make work in progress appear about 25% more finished.

I guess this all has to do with contrast and contrast can be created in many ways - edges (soft/sharp), colours (eg. red fish in a blue sea), spacing (objects being grouped vs. a single object), the amount of detail per object etc etc etc. and all of these can be controlled to solve specific issues within a picture.

In short, if a thing is important aka the focal point, make it stand out - sharp edges, details, specific colours and a lighting situation that make it pop. And if a thing isn't too important leave it vague, communicate the idea of it rather than focusing on drawing it.

On the note of things being sharp, a thing that I always swore by is, if there are eyes in the picture those eyes better be d-o-n-e. Pristine. People will look at the eyes, eyes communicate 90% of emotion, the eyes are the it girl of the picture forever and always, nobody will look at the wonky foot, they will look at the eyes and judge the quality of the picture. If the eyes are shit the picture is shit. (I'm exaggerating but fr. eyes are a big deal.). They don't have to be turbo rendered or physically mad sharp but they need to be done. Whatever that means, take what you will from my word soup.

One thing that I've become a big fan of over the years is the concept of wear and tear. This has to do with texturing things in pictures and I looooooooooooooooove thinking about ways items are used in order to create bumps and scratches that can be featured.

It always makes things look like they belong to someone?? It makes them real? Like the tip of that bone. that bone has been places. That belt has seen use. That bag carried things. Like yanno?? I looove things that chip and have nicks. Give me wood and I'll put a dent in it I swear.

And I thing the latest thing that I'm trying to incorporate within my art, though I haven't had much time or opportunity to do it in personal art because of work, is colour variation within each element.

Like his face. His skin is obviously "beige" but you will see red, and blue and yellow and green in there too. Stuff like that yanno? I'm quite interested in taking this further in my future paintings. I'm still learning how to push what, where and how but ayyy issa journey I'll happily embark on.

And of course apart from all that it's the usual jazz, working on anatomy composition perspective doing it a lot over and over again babababababa and so on and so forth.

I haven't had much opportunity to paint since I started working on the comic last year but it had it own set of challenges for me. Linework is a completely different kind of rodeo and I've improved in different departments a lot and I'd be happy to bring those things into my paintings when I have the chance. I feel like I'm at a point where I know a lot more than what I've had the opportunity to put on paper, it feels exciting!

I hope at least some of my ramblings were of interest to you!! Again, that you for the nice message and have a nice day :)

[shortbeantum]

A few weeks ago, I had been listening to the song Cabinet Man by Lemon Demon, and I couldn't help but imagine this character who's 90% underbite and wavy hair. The more I listened, the more my brain worked and soon, I had this whole character in my head. I made a few initial sketches but eventually landed on some I like, which are the ones you see here. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how I wanted him to look, playing with shapes and clothing and color a LOT. This might even be prone to change in the future if I draw this guy more but I'm pretty content with the current design.

Lore:

This is the Robert Picsole, or commonly referred to by others as the Cabinet Man. His first name, Robert, which means "bright frame", is taken literally, as a computer can be considered a "bright frame." His last name, Picsole, is a play on the word pixel, as he is very skilled in computers. He is an arcade technician whose job is primarily to fix and maintain the arcade machines. He gained the name "Cabinet Man" because his office/workspace is a quite small and cramped room within the arcade, like a cabinet of sorts. As of 2025 (though don't expect the time of this universe to follow the time of ours), he is 27 years old, having been born on June 4th, 1998. I chose June 4th because 6/4 is a reference to 64, as in 64 bits. Also, his personality aligns well with the Gemini zodiac.

Appearance:

He is skinny with pale skin, as he spends most of his time in his cramped office doing his work. His hair is meant to resemble that of a lightning bolt, a nod to his work in electronics. He also has stitches on his pants that resemble lightning bolts as well. He as square buttons that are a reference to the square pixels of a screen. In his transformed design, he keeps his zig-zaggy hair. He has gold-metallic gloves where he can produce electricity/lightning from, since gold is extremely conductive. His smile has become pixelated, a nod to the pixelated games found in arcades. His arms/sleeves have a sort of blue circuit pattern, showing the electricity that flows through him.

Personality:

He's a trickster, often messing around with his coworkers and arcade visitors if he's in the mood, playing light pranks of them or telling jokes. He's always smug, not taking anything too seriously. While he often chooses to work alone, he does not turn down company. However, he's not afraid to cuss out anyone who disrespects him or anyone he cares about. He's quite sharp with his tongue if he needs to be, often winning arguments and conflicts without getting physical.

Backstory:

I don't currently have a solid backstory for him, but I do have a general idea. In some accident, an active arcade machine he's working on, circuit boards and wires exposed, falls onto him. As he's electrocuted, he becomes infused into the machine, giving him these supernatural abilities.

Abilities:

He can transform from his normal human form to his electrical form by getting shocked by a significant voltage of electricity. Small shocks like static don't transform him. He can transform back into human form by choosing to release his electrical form into conductive material, leaving behind only his human body. In his electrical form, he can absorb and project lightning from anywhere on his body, but he often finds it most convenient to use his fingers. He can travel through anything conductive as fast as electricity would. He's able to transform and exaggerate his body to certain lengths.

[imherequeerandgotexistentialfear]

I’m heading on like a 3 more hour train to a funeral. So my brain is like scrambled eggs and reeling between emotions. I’m at a stage of numbness and where life feels unreal. But it’s not new, not by any means. It just sucks to be in.

I know this feeling won’t last forever, trust me, I know. I’m just mentally tired and stressed, my body wants to stim, my mind wants to unmask. But I’m surrounded by people and Im traveling long hours. Im sensorily overwhelmed when it comes to noise and space but extremely underwhelmed in the form of my mind having something to focus on.

I feel so tired in many more way than physical. But I’m fine 🙂

I feel like the child part of my brain and the underdeveloped adult part is at a stalemate as they just stare at each other from across the chaos. Neither knows what to do and so they just both stand still.

The child wants comfort

The adult wants let go of control

And yet we will continue to get neither.

Being Mid/low support needs sucks. I’m expected to be okay but when I’m not it’s a problem. I donno.

I want comfort, but can never truly ask for it or even speak about the only thing I remember as a kid that didn’t hurt.

Tactile sensory comfort, the push to turn off my mind from the world that wasn’t build for me.

It’s embarrassing, it’s childish, it feels so awkward to even talk about.

I’m a grey Ace (Asexual)

I experience sexual attraction like every blue moon BUT because my brain cannot combine platonic and romantic attraction until another’s interact let the controller know to drop the draw bridge.

So with that said, I don’t need nor always want adult relations. I just want physical affection in non sexual ways, which sometimes includes twords. Most twords actually…

My mind is literally doing the venture spiral thing so thank you for listening? Or not,

Just I hope you all have a great day, remember to tell those you love how much they mean to you. Say goodbye every time, don’t speed or run red lights, don’t drink and drive.

You are all worthy of life and of breathe from the moment you were born. And the reason is because you were born on the earth, you are breathing, you can still be here, and that makes you worthy and enough.

You are the person your younger self would not only be proud of, but feel safe with.

With all my love

Forever and always

Your friendly neighborhood panicked Tisic’

[meowihart]

I need to be studied by scientists please.

I want them to scan my brain and look at the images and show me pictures of my brain and I want to see my brain and I want the smart people to see my brain and study it and say “Wow you have such an interesting brain! We must study you!” And then I say “Yay! Please study me please please!” Because I want to feel special and also because I want to know everything that’s wrong with me.

So then I live my life in a white room. A white room. You know- the white room? You know! The light. The ever expanding. Endless endless. I get lost in my enclosure. But then they open the door again.

The let me out and run some tests.

I color in some shapes. I tell them that circles are red and squares are blue. Triangles are yellow, but everyone knows that already. I laugh, but they don’t laugh with me. I stop. I look away, ashamed. I cry. They write things in their tiny notepads. I apologize, but they reassure me, “You’re doing fine.” I stop crying.

Then they have me solve a maze. First they gave me a paper. “It’s blank,” I said.

“Flip it over.”

“Oh..” a maze. A maze! Oh I love puzzles. I go through paths in my head, eliminating the easy dead ends. I look at the start and finish points and solve from both ends, joining the two lines in the middle. After I’m finished I draw little hearts in the white space of the worksheet. I like the pen. I mean- Of course I would. I chose this pen. I did. They laid out a whole row full of pens.

Standard pens- red, blue, black.

Colorful pens- pink, purple, blue.

Some are hard. Plasticky. A few rough, a few smooth and shiny. Some have a more silicone texture, kinda rubbery.

I alternate pens a lot. I have certain phases of pen if that makes any sense at all. I’m quite fond of certain textures and that fondness ebbs and flows constantly. Right now though, I use a black pen. A black ink pen I should say- the pen itself is a kind of dark red. Hmm, yes, this one- yes. This one is nice right now.

I never pick the pencil.

At some point after I finish the maze they interrupt me while I’m drawing on the page. “Yes, yes, well done. You solved it, good job. You are very smart.”

I smile.

I am smart.

“The next test is ready, come with me.” So I follow them to the big room. The one where the more physical tests are held. The room is set up as a maze. They don’t tell me what to do, but I do it anyways. I struggle with dead ends, but I brute force my way through. Just stick to the right. Just stick to the right. Eventually I reach the end. They applaud. I soak in the attention. I get cubes of food as a treat. Why do they bother to cut them into perfect cubes, I wonder… It is good though. Good size. Predictable. Hard edges. Good.

Later they take more pictures of my brain. They study them again. “What’s wrong with me?”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong per say- you’re just-“

“Why am I built wrong?”

“There is no wrong way. Just a standard and an alternate approach.”

“But I feel wrong.. I know I’m different- I don’t feel bad about being different necessarily. I’ve always known I was weird- ever since I was a little kid- but I never really felt directly ashamed of it. But.. I’m different BECAUSE I feel bad. Normal people don’t feel bad. Not the way I do.”

“We know.. that’s why we’re trying to fix things.”

…

I speak up again, “Will I ever feel normal?”

They don’t answer.

#Ineedtobestudied #pleasestudyme #shouldicamel casethis

[midnightro]

definitely agree, this is absolutely something that needs to be brought to light.

i personally favor leo and donnie because their blue and purple, i always have 😭 (like honestly in every iteration it’s leo and donnie for me just because they’re blue and purple, i start from color and then love the character next. u can look at my favorite characters list and you’ll just see different shades of blue)

HOWEVER, i love raph and mikey so much and i don’t think they deserve to be dismissed or mischaracterized or ignored at all. they’re incredible characters and even moreso, incredibly well written. i do think a large factor that contributes to their lack of popularity is the lack of focus on them in the show, due to the many cut episodes (so many, poor guys… i would’ve loved more sunset duo and brains and brawn) and the lack of a full season 2 in general, it’s the cause of many issues i fear.

little rant abt my love for raph and mikey

mikey is so creative and i love how they made that a bigger part of him in rise, and he’s not ‘just a baby’ he can be childish and immature but he’s also angry sometimes, he isn’t just a manipulative crybaby like some of this fandom makes him out to be…. but he’s funny, he’s got a short temper, he loves so hard, he wants the best for everyone. he’s the baby brother but he’s also the heart and the glue and he deserves the world my baby UAGAHJ i want more attention on him i read two mikeycentric fics lately and they changed my life and one of them wasn’t finished. bc i never checked if it was my heart broke guys.

rise raph is so WELL WRITTEN that it is INSANE. like holy omigosh. he just wants the best for his little brothers but there are so many little moments in episodes that remind you that he is just a child who was forced to grow up too early. he’s so sweet and silly and he’d give the world to protect his brothers. AND HE LITERALLY DID. HE SACRIFICED HIMSEKF FOR LEO IN THE MOVIE that moment still makes me so ill sorry because he cracked his shell that HURTS. omigosh anyways i love how rise kept some small things that make him RAPH, like how he’s impulsive and likes to smash things LOL ❤️ when i first started watching i couldn’t really see how he as raph aside from being physically intimidating and then it hit me as time went on.

point is they are very loveable i feel they deserve the world and so much more attention than they get these poor guys. although sometimes people do this wrong, i don’t think we should start hating on or disssing the twins (i mean u do u i guess 😭) i just think we should start loving sunset more. because they deserve so much love and appreciation and more popularity than they get, i love mikey/raph fans so much because. they always get them so well i don’t know how to put that better, like it’s easy to understand ur favorite character so it helps me a lot with understanding them as well. (mwahaha im actually in the midst of making a mikeycentric fic wish me luuck)

AAALSO i love drawing them i used to hate it because raph’s spikes were hard (i kept making them go the wrong direction sigh) and mikey had a round face when i was used to the twins being like a square and a triangle 😭 but i got practice and they’re super fun !!!!!

leo is my favorite for blue, illusion of ego, flamboyant, funny, and he is my reference for living. i do feel genuinely attached to him but ill never let that be a reason for me to dismiss raph or mikey, they deserve love and respect and SO MYCH MORE POPULARITY. there’s so much depth to them despite the missing episodes and the fact that racism and sizeism is a reason for their lack of love is.. like, genuinely sickening.

sorry about this reblog probably being a whole lot of nothing i yap a lot

Why Rise Raph and Mikey are Unappreciated and Underrepresented in the Fandom: Leo/Donnie Favoritism, Anti-Black Racism, and Sizeism

It's refreshing to see that more Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles fans nowadays seem to be waking up to the fact that Leo and Donnie get way more attention from the fandom than Raph and Mikey do. However, what's still missing from most of these discussions is exactly why that's the case.

With Raph and Mikey being voiced by Black actors (Omar Benson Miller and Brandon Mychal Smith, respectively) and Raph being a character with a big, burly physique, anti-Black racism and sizeism (in the case of Raph) are definitely factors in all of this. In contrast, Leo and Donnie are voiced by white actors, and both characters have a much smaller build than Raph does. And in the world that we live in with both anti-Blackness and sizeism, sadly and upsettingly, being the norm, it's easy to see why Leo and Donnie receive the favoritism that they do compared to Raph and Mikey.

But this favoritism doesn't just begin and end with the RotTMNT fandom because the series itself shows a preference for Leo and Donnie as well. Arguably, it's those two who receive most of the focus in the show, with many episodes revolving around them or being from their point of view.

The way both the series and the fandom downplay Raph’s parentification due to Splinter’s neglect also is a notable example of how a Black-coded and big teenage character like Raph is treated so dismissively by the creators, writers, and fans. After having raised his three younger brothers for years, Raph has his role as team leader stripped from him by his neglectful father with that role given to his much thinner, white actor-voiced brother, Leo. And, that's not even going into the proverbial mess that is the season two episode "Raph’s Ride Along," which makes light of police brutality and profiling against a Black(-coded) child. The adultification of Black children, and in this instance, specifically large Black boys, is likewise tied into the implications of "Raph’s Ride Along" as well as Raph’s treatment within the series overall. Honestly, all of that deserves its own write-up, but that'll have to be for another time.

Anyway, my point is that Raph and Mikey, especially Raph, haven't been given as much appreciation or grace by pretty much anyone, including the folks who made the series. All this also serves as a reminder for why it's important to have Black talent on all levels of production, not just as performers but as creators and producers. Or if not that, at the very least, projects should have non-Black creators who have enough know-how to portray Black/Black-coded characters adequately, treating them with as much care, attention, and respect as they would their white/white-coded counterparts. RotTMNT fans could also stand to do more questioning as to why they don't feel as drawn to represent Raph and Mikey as much as they do Leo and Donnie.

[after-witch]

Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Act of Contrition [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on

Word Count: 3646

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader

 A shimmering blue evening gown was not the last thing you expected to see draped over the sitting chair that was tucked into the corner. It would certainly not be the first time that Chrollo had brought back something ostentatious, something glittering and expensive; something that you (if you were to psychoanalyze him, which you did, out of anxiety first and boredom second) would guess he wanted you to admire before it disappeared into the ether like so many other things he’d pilfered over the past few months.

What you didn’t expect, however, was his suggestion for you to try it on. 

At first you thought you’d misheard, your brain still pulling itself out of a dull, listless sleep. You had argued with him the night before, and the space between you on the bed was thick and heavy with tension until you had finally slid headlong into sleep. Surely he wouldn’t try to give you a gift after you spend most of the evening reminding him that you’ll never love him, or even like him, much less feel one iota of happiness in his presence.

But then he repeated the suggestion.

“Why?” Your tone is borderline acidic, and you don’t feel the need to hide your suspicion of his intentions.

Your captor had no doubt become well-acquainted with your nastiness over the months, though he rarely reacted to it with more than a tight expression, if he even gave you that. Sometimes he simply ignored you, as if you were a child having a tantrum, not his kidnapped victim.

In some ways, it was a surprising relief. In some ways, you could consider yourself lucky. Considering his abilities, considering his past, considering what he did when he left you alone in the condo or hotel or wherever he had you situated--he might well be the type to slap the attitude off your face, gentlemanly facade be damned. He could do worse than a slap, too; far worse.

But the months had gone on with only pointed sighs and looks; and despite his rationally stated insistence that you would give in to his attentions in time, you held onto your bitterness as tightly as you could. You prized yourself on it, the way you figure that he prizes his most precious steals.

He sometimes comes back with glittering jewels worth calculable fortunes, laying them out to see the way they look when the moonlight filters in through the open curtains. He doesn’t keep them for long, doesn’t display them, just memorizes their magnificence and then whisks them off.

You can relate to the gloating. But you don’t give your greatest treasures away. You, on the other hand, wear your bitterness 24/7 like an old woman clinging to her last precious mink coat, a remnant of an era gone-by. Draped over your shoulder, haughty and visible, daring him to say something when you give him a sarcastic jab in response to perfectly-polite-inquiries about this and that. The worst (but best, you think, to you) is when you feign interest in a conversation, feign some sort of acceptance of your situation, willing your hands to get closer to his as you sit on the sofa and read; only to snap back at the last moment, baring your teeth.

You hope it hurts him, to think he’s getting an inch forward with you only to have it pulled away. He deserves it for keeping you here.

Sometimes, you almost hope he would say something, do something, only because it might be a sort of reprieve. If he gets mad or slaps you, even, maybe the solid, sticky bitterness surrounding your heart might abate just a bit.

Then again, you know this saying very well: be careful what you wish for.

“I need to see if it fits.” His expression and tone haven’t changed. Polite, cordial, matter-of-fact. You hate it.

You force yourself out of bed and give the gown a glance before heading into the bathroom. He follows, picking up his own morning routine as you wash and brush side-by-side. You think he does it to seem domestic, in his own fucked-up way. You pointed this out, once, and he’d merely given you a small smile and asked: “Do you want to this to be domestic?”

Chrollo had a habit of turning your impulsive snark around on you, so you tried to plan your barbs out more carefully in the future.

“Why do you need to see if it fits?” You finally ask, words a bit muffled by the toothbrush hanging out of your mouth. You force yourself to glance at him in the mirror. He’s finished, already drying off his face, pinning a wrap around his forehead.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, and you feel too caught to look away.

“For tonight. We’re going to the theater.”

The toothbrush drops from your mouth and lands next to the sink, splattering lathered toothpaste on the counter. You wipe your mouth with a washcloth, missing a bit and not caring, and physically turn away from the mirror so you’re face-to-face.

“Are you serious?”

For the moment, your bitterness slides off, forgotten on the floor. He’s never offered to do something like this before. Sure, he’s mentioned that you might go out--”it depends on  your behavior”--but the thought of “being good” for Chrollo made you sick to your stomach every time you were tempted. So you hadn’t been outside for months, not really--the brief gaps when he’d whisk you into a car, always by his side, then pull you into a new hotel or luxury condo didn’t really count.

He nods.

“Yes. Please do hurry and try it on, I’ll need time to find another if it isn’t suitable.”

You glance out of the bathroom door and back into the bedroom, where the gown sits, draped, shimmering softly in the morning light. It’s something you never would have been able to afford before--and the thought of wearing it now makes your skin tingle. What is his plan? Why is he doing this?

“But I haven’t been good,” you say, almost spitting out the last word. Last night, in fact, you’d been almost beastly--you recall the words “go fuck yourself” and “I hate you” being thrown out before you twisted in the knife by bringing up an ex-fling.

He laughs, quick and harsh. It seems like a real laugh, for once, and something in your chest twists. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard anything truly authentic from him. Or yourself.

“Maybe it’s a reward for me, to have you by my side.  You want to go, don’t you?”

The thought makes your stomach clench. But… you did want to go. Really. To get out of here, even for a night? To get sucked into some type of show, whatever it was? You didn’t entertain the idea of trying to escape or draw attention to yourself for help--you knew Chrollo would never suggest taking you if it was a viable option. He was just as likely to slaughter the entire theater if you whispered to an usher that you were being held captive.

No, no escape in the cards… at least not physically.

You shrug your shoulders and try to seem nonchalant about it, though you’re sure he can feel the way your skin is buzzing.

“Sure, whatever. Don’t expect me to hold your hand or anything.”

He laughs, again. It’s blatantly false this time.

***

It has been… a while since you’ve done your makeup. The pile of messy makeup wipes on the counter can attest to that--this is now your third try at a full face without messing something up. Thankfully, the third time has been the charm, and you’re satisfied with the reflection in the mirror. Chrollo had turned up your old makeup bag, and sliding on the eyeliner you used to wear to work, out with friends, in your old life felt surreal and comforting at the same time.

You’ve even done your hair, though it could be nicer. You haven’t bothered with anything but hasty brushing in the past few months, and sometimes you’re too lethargic and frustrated to even bother with that. But it’s styled, a bit elegant--if you do say so yourself.

You glance down at the trio of lipsticks he set on the counter earlier. They’re not a brand you ever wore--they’re expensive, something out of reach for anyone used to pulling cheap store lipsticks out of a bin. The center lipstick is a bold red, and your hand reaches for it. Brief memories of your mother gushing about red lipstick come to mind; she always associated red lipstick with elegance, the fanciest of events, and you’re inclined to agree. It feels smooth, impossibly so; praise be to expensive formulas.

After blotting it with toilet paper--old habits--you step back to stare at yourself in the mirror. The dress fits you beautifully. The fabric is soft, refined, showing you off in all the right places. You’ve taken your time with your hair, your makeup, and you really do look nice. You bring your wrist up to your nose and sniff--the perfume Chrollo had picked out for you was elegant, subtle. Rose petals and apples and white musk.

You feel a wave of nostalgia come over you that you push down. It’s too bad you’re going to the theater with your captor and not with your friends. Or your mom.

“Are you finished?” His voice calls from the bedroom.

The thought of Chrollo seeing you like this makes you feel uncomfortably anxious for reasons you can’t quite pinpoint. The gown is not exactly risque, but it’s designed to highlight your features--and while he has never crossed the hardest line in regards to your personal autonomy, he wasn’t beyond stealing kisses from your unwilling lips when the mood struck him. He said it was to help you adjust to the relationship, as if kissing you against your will would make you love him.

You don’t answer him and instead give your hair a final touch up before heading out the open bathroom door.

Chrollo is standing next to the vanity, wearing an elegant suit, primped and polished--and handsome. You can’t help but freeze in place when he gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate.

“You look beautiful,” he says, finally, a slight breathiness to his voice. There’s an authentic tone to his voice again, and it makes you feel queasy.

You try to ignore the way your skin feels heated and shrug, crossing your arms over your chest as you approach him.

“Are we going now?”

He gives a soft smile. “Almost. One more thing.”

You watch curiously as he pulls out a jewelry box from his pocket, then opens it to reveal two glittering sapphire earrings. You can’t hold back a little gasp, but when you reach for them, Chrollo holds the box out of reach.

“I’ll do the honors.”

You want to say no. But you’re so close to leaving, so you simply stare to the side as he steps behind you.  He touches your ear--and you flinch. He chuckles quietly and you ignore the blossoming heat across your cheeks, both from his closeness and your reaction, while he fixes the earrings into your ears.

When he’s finished, you look up. The visage in the mirror seems like a familiar stranger. The feeling you get at seeing yourself so dressed up is familiar in some way. You think back to going to shows with your friends, or going to the ballet with your mom; your little ring-clad hand gripping hers as she hurried you past alleys on the way to the theater, your sparkling white party dress shedding glitter onto the streets. You can practically feel the way the theater always hums with anticipation, the unusual heaviness of feeling alone in a crowded room as your friends left you with the tickets while they grabbed a drink or two.

The sight of Chrollo behind you in the mirror, watching you with clear intent, breaks you away.

“We’re leaving now.”

***

“I… actually really like The Sleeping Beauty ballet.”

You feel awkward. It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been in a car with Chrollo, whether your forcibly pressed against him in the back seat or in the front, blasting the radio in an attempt to prevent him from striking up a conversation as he drives you to some new destination.

But it’s the first time you’ve been in the car for reasons other than transporting you to a new ‘home.’ The first time that you’ve both been dressed up; Chrollo’s cologne wafts gently over to you, and you can’t deny that he knows how to pick a good scent.

It’s also the first time you’ve felt conversation to be a necessity, if only to find out where you were going (the opera house) and what you were seeing (a ballet).

In fact, the news of the performance makes you sit up straighter in your seat. You feel a ping of excitement, and without thinking you share it out loud.

“That’s actually the first ballet I ever saw with my mom. Do you know what company it is?”

He tells you, and you bite your lip anxiously, squaring your shoulders against the back of the seat as you start to imagine the night ahead. Then you remember the smooth red lipstick and force your mouth to relax.

You talk, instead, to keep yourself from ruining your lipstick with your nervous habit. “I’ve heard about this company’s version. Well,” you continue, “I wanted to see them perform this a few years ago, but tickets sold out so fast. I couldn’t afford the scalper prices.”

“How nice that I have tickets for this performance, then.”

“Right!” Your pitch is higher and you internally cringe. You shouldn’t sound so excited. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but he seems focused on the road.

As the drive continues, you keep talking. Without realizing it, your voice becomes lighter, easier, and even you don’t know why you’re speaking so freely. You talk more to him on this stretch of road than you have within months, sarcastic replies and bitter responses notwithstanding. 

You talk about ballet. You talk about the history of the show. You talk about this company’s costumes--you saw them displayed in a store window and wow, were they gorgeous--and as the words come out, you feel lighter. Less bogged down by your protective anger, less heavy and hateful.

Happiness. 

It’s something that you haven’t felt in a long time. It’s a feeling that your stomach rebels against, not welcoming the sudden intrusion of lightness and lift while you’re sitting in a car next to your captor. But you push your stomach’s rebellious nature down and force yourself to remember that tonight,  you get to escape onto the stage; for a little while, you can be somewhere else.

Even being in the car tonight is doing wonders for you, you think. You must be getting close--the lights of the city are brighter and there’s throngs of nicely dressed people walking down the street towards what you realize is the theater. You see a little girl holding a woman’s hand and your stomach clenches in bitter nostalgia, but the thought is pushed aside quickly enough when Chrollo pulls into a valet circle.

You don’t have time to open the door before he opens it for you, extending his arm like a gentlemen.

“Ready?”

**

You’re buzzing on the way home. Not just from the champagne--three glasses, Chrollo having subtly waved away the usher approaching your opera box with your requested fourth. Not just from the show, which was magical and lush and everything you hoped it would be. Not just from the fact that you had a night out, away from the stuffiness of whatever luxury suite you were trapped in.

But from the thrill of feeling something, anything, other than your own deep despair and bitterness. You laughed in delight at the sillier moments, the bright-yellow Canary fairy and her trills; you cried at Aurora’s pleading vision to be set free, the first time you’ve cried at something other than your own situation in ages; you clapped and even, in the end, let yourself shout out a cheery “Brava!”

Even Chrollo seemed different during the evening. No forcible hand-holding or other niceties that had given you anxiety earlier in the evening. No unbearable condescension, only the hint of a smirk during the intermission when you--instinctively, you insisted to yourself, not because you liked his company--began an excited conversation about the events of the first Act. Did he like this part? What about the orchestra? And oh, this variation, didn’t he think it was a bit too overdone on the part of the dancer, but she more than recovered by the end?

When Chrollo helps you out of the car into the private parking garage, the air is cool and crackling; everything still feels electric, the way it always does when you come home from an event. Though as the doorman opens the private elevator leading to the condominium above, you dimly remind yourself you’re not coming home, exactly.

The swift ride up the elevator leaves you feeling dizzy. Your mind feels like it’s crashing, suddenly. From the champagne, maybe--but something else, too.

The elevator doors open into the condo suite you share with Chrollo and it hits you as you take the first step inside: you’re back to where you started the night. Trapped. The transporting, glittering events of the evening fall off your shoulders like a worn coat; you’re left once again only with yourself, with your present situation--and with Chrollo.

Your cheeks feel hot and you know the tears are coming before you feel them prickle at your eyes. The urge to wipe them away is masked only by the remembrance that you’re wearing makeup, but that doesn’t stop it from running as they begin to flow down your cheeks.

It burns, and you start for the bathroom, intent on scrubbing your face and ripping off the dress--but your entire body jerks back as Chrollo grabs your arm and prevents you from taking another step.

“Let go,” you say, voice empty of anything but the desperate need to be in the bathroom, to clean your face, to be alone with your returning misery.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls you back, forcing you to stand up straight as you fruitlessly fight against his grip.

“You’re crying.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” you murmur, voice edged not with bitterness this time, but sorrow. You don’t want to look at him. He’s seen you cry countless times, but you hate the way he looks at you when you do.

“Tell me why.”

You finally force yourself to look up at him, eyes blinking away the stinging tears, and you’re not surprised by his intensive gaze. He’s studying you. Analyzing. Like you’re some sort of book he can read and discover.

Maybe the champagne has loosened your tongue; maybe the night itself has loosened the tight-lipped hold your bitterness has on you. Whatever it is, you confess.

“I was happy,” you say, voice wobbling with tears. “I was--happy on the way there. I was happy at the theater. I was happy on the way home. I--I haven’t…” you rub at your eyes, smearing eyeshadow onto your fingertips. “I haven’t felt that way in months. And now we’re back and I don’t feel it anymore.” Your voice finally cracks with your last words, and you cover your eyes with one hand as crushing feelings of sadness sweep over you.

He pulls you closer to him, and you can’t fight away from his physical strength.

“Let go,” you plead. “I just want to be alone.”

You jerk your face away when he strokes your cheek with his free hand.

“Alone? Whatever for? My hypothesis for tonight was correct.”

His words make you stop pulling. Hypothesis? You sniffle and try to get your bearings, try to brace yourself. But you’re tired, and sad, and your head is swimming.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He places his free hand on the back of your head and leans in closer. The heat of his skin and the pressure of his grip makes a flushed warmth bloom across your skin.

“You see,” he whispers, his lips ghosting against the side of your ear. “You can be happy with me, after all.”

[aces-to-apples]

I saw your fusion AU post and need details (if you’d oblige me). Because this is steven universe inspired, do they dance to fuse? Do they do a gay little dance on the battlefield? This is important information. Also, fusion appearance: do they just look like giant ppl or are they big ol’ abominations? I garner it would vary case by case, but if you have an appearance in mind for [insert fusion name here] know that I’m looking expectantly 👁️👁️ (1/2)

Fusion AU Post

Asdfghjkl okay so some of this i have written down places already but some of it is only in my brain, and because i am not musically or visually creative some of it never occurred to me, so bear with me.

In this AU Force-wielders—most existing within the Jedi Order and therefore pretty much all assumed to be Jedi, colloquially known as gems or crystals depending on location—are like SU Gems in that they're beings made of light and the Force whose sentience is contained in kyber crystals from which they project their mobile physical forms. When projecting a physical form, their kyber cores are contained within them like SU gems, except when they move into their "weapon forms" aka lightsabers. Since I'm not inclined towards music or dance, and because Steven proves that you can fuse with a gem who's retreated into their gemstones to reform, dancing isn't required to fuse but I think it's probably a cultural and ceremonial things for Jedi proper. And fusion works with non-gems because something something through all things the Force flows.

You're right that fusion appearances vary case by case. Everyone's base appearance is the same as in canon, and while fusions can get very big depending on how many are fused and how stable the fusion is (less stable fusions being bigger) they usually stay under about 8 feet i think.

Fusion appearances are vague because, again, very much not an artist, but I do have a few specifics for some of them: Anyone who fuses with Ahsoka has togruta montrals, anyone who fuses with Maul has zabrak horns plus an extra mouth, anyone who fuses with Anakin has four arms, and anyone who fuses with Rex has four eyes.

Maulakin: keeps Anakin's hair so the horns end up looking almost like a half-hidden crown, and they also have Maul's markings but subtler almost like they're showing from underneath Anakin's regular skin.

Rexakin: most normal-human-looking, dark golden curly hair, one pair of brown eyes above a pair of yellow eyes, deep tan/light brown skin? Only one mouth but voice is slightly double-toned and they talk more like Anakin but move more like Rex.

Maulsoka: from discord dms, "I'm thinking Maulsoka probably looks the most "monstrous" of the bunch: zabrak horns and togruta horns, four eyes, four arms, white markings and black skin with a slick-looking red tint that looks like fresh blood on obsidian, and they're like 7 feet tall."

The list of most to least stable fusions, pasted below from the other post, ranges from about 6'5" to about 7'2" (which doesn't even surpass regular human heights let alone aliens but I think any bigger would just be a little too comical so no building-sized fusions like in the cartoon): Anasoka - Obikin - Obirex - Rexsoka - Rexakin - Maulakin - Obisoka - Maulsoka - Maulrex

As for the fusion lightsabers, I think there's quite a wide variation as well. A Maul fusion will nearly always use a lightstaff and an Ahsoka fusion will nearly always use Jar'Kai, but with the colors yeah probably gradients or maybe a thin core color/ greater outer color. Maulakin would use a lightstaff with a red core but mostly Anakin's blue. Maulsoka would probably also use a lightstaff but one end would be green and the other would be the yellow-green of her shoto, but maybe they would Ahsoka's Jar'Kai with a deep red saber and a much paler red shoto. Much fun to be had there, but as with the character designs, if I was an artist, I'd already have already tried drawing them instead of trying to talk my way through them lol.

Lastly, not one of your questions but because I don't think I've mentioned anywhere else: Maul and Anakin still use prostheses because the fights on Naboo and Geonosis were so traumatic that their projected physical forms were permanently changed, like Pink Pearl's cracked eye in SU.

Aaaaand I think that's everything! Thanks for sending these in btw it was fun to write some of this out even though I'm sure my lack of visual artistic skills is disappointing lmao

[tommyspeakycap]

Hi love, I adore your writing so much! And as you just asked for some ideas/concepts here’s mine for Jack Grealish from prompts list 2: fluff #11 where he’s asking her (she’s his best friend) to go for a walk cause there’s so much going on in his life and he just needs to talk. fluff #36, angst #31 and a happy ending please? Basically a Best friends to lovers thing as I’m a sap for that…thank you!! xx

Fluff #11; “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…”

Fluff #36; “because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

hope I did this justice for you!

Fell for you

“Jesus god,” you grumbled with hands aimlessly palming across the mattress for the blaring sound of your phone from its place charging somewhere on the bed. Your next move is an elongated “Ahhhhh,” sound, fatigue still holding tightly onto your body in a way that seals your eyes shut even as you try to shut off the sound your phone was deafening your with. In a wakened state, you might’ve noticed that it was your ringtone that had interrupted your sleep. However as tired as you were you ruled it as your alarm right away and moved yourself into seated position with the duvet still wrapped tight around you and your eyes still shut.

You were suspended in that space between being asleep and being awake, still sitting up when the offensive sound came screaming through your phone once again.

This time, your eyes snapped open in fright and the fatigue-blurred letters of Jack Grealish’s name popped up across the top of your screen.

“How is it morning already?” You protest down the line, a heavy sigh passing your lips to follow. Jack’s chuckle can be heard through the line, “It’s not.” He replies simply, prompting you to pull your phone away from your ear to hold out in front if your face.

02:17am

“Then why on earth am I up?” You mumble, a question more posed to yourself than the man on the other end. “Wait, why are you up? And why are you calling so early?”

“I’m outside your door.”

“You’re what?!” You throw back your duvet and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You’ve hung up the phone already by the time you reach the front door at a tired shuffle. His hair is tousled when you see him, like he’s been running his hands through it over and over, you imagine that he has. He does that when he’s stressed. You have to squint against the street lights and his car headlights outside, still on as it sits running on the street. “Can we go somewhere?” He asks, his voice as desperate as his eyes look when he speaks, begging you to agree. Not that he would need to beg. You’d do anything for that man. Even if it did mean dragging yourself from your bed at 2 in the morning.

“Course.”

No question, no pressure. He loves that from you. He knows you’ll ask him later and when the time is right you’ll force him to tell you of course. Now is not that time yet and you’re nowhere near awake enough to do so much anyway. “Let me just grab my-“

“I have a hoodie in the car and your shoes in my boot.” He cuts in, tugging your arm gently out the door of your house. He knows you better than any other person in this world, so he knows full and well that there’s not much you are going to do in the way of protesting when you’re so soon out of sleep. He’d often teased with layers of worry deeper beneath that he genuinely worried for you living on your own. You open the door to people far too easily, and he will not fail to bring that up sometime tomorrow. For now, he steps into your doorway where you had stood moments before, grabs your keys from the cabinet and pulls the door closed behind him with a click of the latch locking behind him.

The cold paving stones beneath your feet make you shine in protest, shifting your weight between each one to ease the chill. In was in that cold that you look down and make the realisation, or rather come to remember the fact that you don’t have any pyjama bottoms on. “Jack!” You yelp, “I’m not wearing trousers!” You suddenly feel very exposed and rightly so, standing outside your home suddenly very awake in only a long claret and blue shirt that only extended down to the middle of your thighs. “Eh?” He whips around, “You what?”

It’s only now he really takes you in with rosy cheeks from embarrassment, your hair messed up from your sleep. His frantic eyes soften and his heart stops thundering in his chest finally. The sight of you there calms him. You’re there. Right there. His (y/n) is right there in front of him.

“What’s the rush, Jack? Is everything okay?”

Your gentle words and tired eyes bring him back to the ground, the flurry of his racing thoughts only now finally calmed. He often acts on impulse, but you are always able to slow his brain down a few paces. His sits heavily, "I know it's two am but...do you think we could go somewhere. My heads fuckin'... I don't even know." He dips back down to run that hand through his hair once again. His words stoke a bit of a worry in you, head tilted to the side in question. Jack doesn't tend to be the kind who gets himself panicked and all wound up like he has right now. That's more your half of the friendship. You did the worrying, he did the easygoing.

"It's okay, Jack. Of course. Come on then, let's go." You nod your head and he goes around the back of the car to get the shoes and socks he promised you. You very nearly choked up a lung when he presented you with a brand new Balenciaga box. "What the fuck, Jack?" You all but wheeze out, head whipping towards him climbing into the passenger seat.

"Got you a present 'cause I'm leaving soon." He shrugs with a jaw-dropping ease. You list open the lid and inside sit a pair of sliders that cost nearly £400. You physically gawp. "Oh my god."

"What?" Jack asks, drawing out of his parking spot on the street, "Heard you telling your mum you needed new sliders for the summer, do you not like 'em?"

His nerves would be clear in his voice if you hadn't been in such a ferocious level of shock. You're glad you weren't eating anything because it surely would have choked you to death. Of course you had seen Jack wearing brands like Balenciaga, Gucci, Versace and the likes, but you had never owned such an expensive piece of clothing. "I mean of course I love them, J but I meant from Primark or bloody amazon, you shouldn't have spent al that money on me." You protested, but Jack really pays it no mind. In fact, the suggestion that you don't deserve everything luxurious that this world has to offer offends him more than it does anything else. You should know that you deserve everything good that this world can give and he has the means to actually give that to you. He'd count himself an absolute fool not to.

"Gonna pretend you didn't say that." He mutters, eyes kept carefully on the empty road ahead of his car. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a part of you brain still very much trying to a) wake up and b) process the expensive of the gift he handed to you so casually. "Not arguing about it either." His voice cuts you off the second you open your mouth to speak, shutting down your protest before it even leaves you.

As the fatigue of your sleep wears off, your mind continues to be just as boggled as it had been the moment his name popped up on your screen at 2am, if not more boggled now.

"You're acting so weird, Jack. What the hell is going on with you today?" Your insistence is careful with your pressure. It's enough to try to open him up but not enough to make it sound like a confrontation. Neither you nor Jack like confrontation especially with each other. The words make him chew on his lip as he careens the large white range rover through a turn that leads up a gravel road that crunches beneath his tires. The stops when he's met with a with a large gate that prevents cars but a little slot for people to walk through. Jack leaves his door open when he leaves the car with a curtly mumbled "Stay here" as he does. He pushes open the gate with ease before he gets back in the car and follows the path up the hill further.

He stop abruptly in a very small gravel car park without any parking lines to abide and steps out, slamming his door behind him like he absolutely always does; you swear that man couldn't be quiet if his life depended on it. Which was another reason why you were so surprised by his silence. You clamber out after him with that same fear of falling flat on your face that always fills your mind each and every time you leave his car. But Jack is where he has been every time you step out the Range Rover since the first day he got it; standing by your door to hold your hand so you can jump out without a trip onto the gravel beneath. He shuts the door behind you and hands you a spare pair of his loose fitting track pants.

On an average day you might've teased the reason he hasn't worn them was because they wouldn't have squeezed the life out his legs. Today wasn't one of those days, so you slip them on without a word. Followed up by his way too big for you socks and the brand new black slides. Even wide awake, this confuses you to no end. Jack was never quiet and never elusive. He was boisterous, loud, open and confident.

The second you turn around, you realise why he brought you here.

The view of the stars, the sky completely clear. There wasn't a street lamp in sight. The moon provided the kind of spotlight hue that you kind of thought only existed in the enhancement of Hollywood movies. "Woah," you breathe, words stolen by its beauty.

"Yeah," Jack laughs, "Now you know how I feel every time I look at you."

You head turns to him so fast it sends your head spinning a little, or maybe that's just the shock of his words. You couldn't tell.

"What?"

He shrugs his shoulders, scuffing his feet along the gravel to meet up with where you stand. But he freezes before he gets the chance.

"Why are you wearing that?" He asks, a very sudden cold change in his tone that actually makes your body feel colder. "Wearing what? This?" You gesture to the claret and blue shirt you had thrown on in a haste to get to him standing at your front door a short while ago. You turn to see his unhappy scowl and the firm discontented cross of his strong arms. "Yeah that," he grumbles, "And where'd you even get it." He adds with a flare of his nostrils. He looks adorable angry like this, like he's trying so hard to look angry when his emotions lie truly elsewhere.

You look down at the shirt with furrowed brows, before you shift your shoulder forward, crane your neck and pull the material around to view the back as best you could. "What's wrong with it?" You ask finally, attempts to defy the natural state of your body failing to allow you to see your back.

"It's Ginny's." Jack states as if its the most obvious thing in the world. You just look at him bewildered. "And?"

He huffs as he takes a few more heavy steps up to you, looking like he had a lot of things to say without any way of being able to get them to coordinate from his brain to his lips. "Why do you have Ginny's shirt though?"

You breathe a little bit of laughter at him, shaking your head softly. "it was just a joke. I saw him after a match waiting for you so I jumped out at him and pretended to be a fan for a video and he signed it and gave to me as a joke. I just threw it on when you showed up at my door in the middle of the night. Wasn't exactly a fashion statement."

Jack still grunts in dissatisfaction at your answer, refusing to meet your eyes. "You have plenty of mine to wear though, don't need his." His argues in a disgruntled grumble. You raise and drop your arms down by your side with a sigh. He was really testing your patience now. "Hm, last time I checked you couldn't give me yours anymore because your ex didn't like it." You protest with a wag of your finger, making him turn his head downwards with something like a shudder running through him at the mention of her name. "Yeah well there's a reason she's my ex innit." He mutters under his breath.

"What the hell is the problem with you today Jack?" You exclaim, his eyes jolting to you in surprise. You don't often snap.

"First you show up at my door in the middle of the night and drag me out of my house and then you won't actually speak to me and now you're picking a fight about John M fucking Ginn?" You snap, the anger and confusion he had stirred up showing in your emphatic hand gestures that only come out when you're telling him a passionate story or going off your head at him. "He's your best mate, why would that even bother you?!"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm not done, Jack!" You yell, holding out a hand. "You haven't even spoken to me all week. I found out you made the England call up on fucking twitter Jack, twitter! And your mum told me about you dumping your girl and I can't even get through to you and now you're buying me gifts and bringing me here? I don't know if I'm coming or going here Jack, you have to give me something. We're meant to be friends." You voice breaks on the last syllable and a lump forms in Jack's throat that he can't just swallow away. Any pain, any hurt and any slight sadness of emotion that appears in you shatters his heart. He thought that was a normal reaction until two weeks ago when he realised it only happens to him when its your upset he witnesses.

"I'm sorry." He says, his voice thick and wavering with the same level of emotion. "I really, really am." He stands right in front of you now, so close you're basically chest to chest, faces merely inches apart.

"And I'm scared." He admits, sending a pang through your already aching heart. "Scared because I'm leaving and I can't take you with me." His words tickle your lips as they leave his, clouds of air puffing above the two of you as his hot breath meets the cold night air. "You've done it before, J. It'll be fine." You soothe, hands gently raising to reach up and brush the hair out of his face. His let's forth a content sigh of relief at the feeling of your touch. "That was before though." He confesses with a slight shrug. He watches that furrow sow itself back into your brows.

"Before what?"

"Dance with me?" He suggests, his arms finding their way around you with ease, much less fumbley than you remember from your high school prom. Your head tilts in that adorable confused way that makes a grin form on his cold lips.

"Why?" You query, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. He laughs softly. "Because the music is slow and the sky is gorgeous and because I love you."

Before you get the chance to recognise, process or even understand what he said, he's swaying you around the gravel under the stars.

"Because you what?" You squeak, your eyes desperately searching his as you look for any reason this might be some kind of a joke or one of pranks that makes you want to throttle him. He just smiles at you with those crinkled eyes and the love shining right there in his eyes for you to see. Your stomach flutters like the teenager you were when you fell in love with him. His lips dip down to capture yours in the best kiss that your being has ever felt, his hands ringing your hair, stroking down over your cheeks with those warm hands of his.

"Because I've fell for you, isn't it obvious?"

[obeymeluv]

Quick! Kiss Me! [Part 3 - Mammon]

Same rules apply from Part 2: thoughts are italicized and bolded. May be slightly NSFW because the boys have a crush on you and such. If anyone has suggestions for Asmo’s part or Belphie’s, I’m down to hear it. I kind of have one for Belphie but I feel it’s a little cliché.

Also, I’ve logged back in and started playing Obey Me! since I have a three day weekend and the “Are You Kidding Me?!” event is making me want to write those baby headcanons. Might do that next.

Mammon:

You’d been following a buzzing, bubbling sensation around the house. It was enough to make your teeth rattle at points and you wondered if one of the brothers were using shadow magic to stay on the fringes of your vision (or just out of it). Sometimes it would feel like you were right on top of it, your whole body feeling like loose change in a can, and just as quickly it would stop. The cold wash of going the wrong way was a welcome reprieve.

Exhausted, feeling like you’d lapped the house several times, you dragged yourself back to your bedroom. It wasn’t very romantic but at this point you’d had it! The only thing your poor brain could think of was texting them one by one and just kissing them. If you were honest with yourself, you wouldn’t even need to text all seven. If you were really honest with yourself, you just wanted to text one of them.

And he was in your bed, cuddled into your pillows and half-wrapped in your sheets like he was supposed to be there.

Was he asleep?

You resisted the urge to stomp your foot or startle Mammon awake. His jacket was tossed haphazardly over your small desk chair but his sunglasses had been placed with care on your nightstand. Mammon? You placed on knee on the bed, planning to crawl towards him from the opposite corner. Mammon tended to wake up swinging and flailing; you remembered Belphie yanking him off of “his” spot on the couch but not before he’d fluffed his pillow and took a defensive stance.

Your little brain tap was enough to make him snort and stretch but not open his eyes. Tanned limbs dragged themselves across twisted sheets. He sounded like he’d mumbled something but you couldn’t be sure. You were sure he’d scooped up another pillow to stuff his face in and squeeze to death.

Was that a giggle? Mammon gave a contented little hum, snuggling his face into the new, cool pillow. Mammon! you tried again. It was weird to speak with your brain. Could you raise your voice just by thinking it? You froze in the middle of the bed, Mammon snapping up with a slow blink and a confused slur (and a huffy demon gurgle).

If he wasn’t hugging the pillow, he probably would’ve swung his arms out or fallen out the bed and taken half the sheets with him. Mammon blinked again, his white brows furrowing as he scanned the room. He leaned forward and you barely remembered how utterly blind he was as you watched the sleep lift from blue-yellow eyes.

“So who was the lucky—“ Mammon started off in his fake ‘I’m not interested’ tone but the words died out before he could make them any more indifferent. “Your lips are still sealed shut.” he lurched forward, your noses practically touching. “Your lips are still sealed shut!” he whispered again breathlessly, the quickness of his words matching the excited pulse in his throat.

Mammon’s heart squeezed in his chest. His mouth dried and suddenly he couldn’t think of anything to say. This wasn’t how he thought your first kiss would be but Diavolo be damned if he’d turn it down! The demon could barely filter his desire for you, trying to keep the YES! GIMME! KISS ME, KISS ME! in his head and out of yours. His face started to heat up when the pact mark on your shoulder glowed a soft golden color, painting both of your faces in a candlelight-like glow.

The tiniest part of his awed brain could feel his mouth slipping open in shock. You were a vision with golden highlights. Golden highlights from his pact mark! It made him want to take you on a fancy restaurant date and see it again.

Mammon? you were waiting on him now, ever so careful. So considerate. That’s what he loved about you. You put up with a lot of his walls and his loud behavior but deep down you knew. He knew you knew, and he was glad you kept his secret.

The people who made the loudest echoes were often the most fragile. He was a giving heart that had been corrupted against his will, and he had not totally hardened with the fall. You saw those scars and chips and cracks and somehow healed all of it with your human hands. With your smile. Your touch.

Hell, you just saying his name could wipe centuries of suffering from his mind.

“Was I your first choice?” Mammon’s voice turned raspy and tight. He couldn’t bear to hear you say you’d gone to one of the others first. He’d seen you going from room to room, slinking around the house in a way only the second-eldest could master. Years of trying to slip out past curfew and make off with a few odds and ends no one would miss without getting caught had its perks. Watching you touch doors and turn halls gutted him and drove him to seek refuge in your room.

He’d consoled himself amongst your pillows—your scent—and tried not to cry. Even if you didn’t choose him, he’d still have you as a friend. Maybe an in-law. That didn’t stop the cold twisting in his guts or the burning anguish in his chest as he realized over and over that he was one of seven. The other six were better than him, he feared. He was just scummy, scummy Mammon.

You don’t think you are? You tilted your head as you looked at him, hands coming up to comb gently through his hair and massage the bottom of his ears. Your hands smoothed down his neck, drawing him into a hug that was just…very you. Comforting and genuine and wholesome. He felt it first physically, then emotionally as your pact mark burned a little brighter.

You dummy, it was so light, so teasing and gentle that Mammon couldn’t help but smile as you cupped his face and brought his lips up to yours. “Of course you’re my first choice. You’re my first man, aren’t you?”

Mammon realized you said that with your mouth--your open mouth—and he exploded into a rolling yayayayaya victory warble. His eyes were a molten yellow, almost as bright as Diavolo’s (maybe brighter). Tears beaded in his eyes and Mammon blinked them away, stuffing his face into your neck as he tackled you to the bed. A burst of heat rolled over you as his horns came out a hot skin touched yours, the demon greedily snuggling into like he’d finally found his home.

He was scenting you with all his snuggling and ‘settling’ but you didn’t mind, patting his back and running your fingertips across the seams in his black jacket. In all his ‘settling’ you’d been turned onto your side and scooped up by him. Mammon locked his arms around you, feet tangling with yours. He’d tucked you under his chin to keep you away from his horns. “I can’t believe you took so long!” he whined, fingers playing with your hair, “making me wait like that! I’m a busy guy, you know?”

“I can take your place if you’re so busy!” you saw a hint of Asmo in the doorway and probably Levi behind him before Mammon’s wing blocked your view. They’d been called by the noise Mammon made earlier.

“Get lost, the lot of ya!” Mammon flapped his free wing at them. He hugged you closer and you briefly wondered if this what a dragon did with their hoard. You laughed at the thought. “This is my human! And my human is spending time with their first man!” he’d made a little tent out of his wing, peeking down at you with pride and love and a little hesitancy that begged you to back him up because his embarrassment was outweighing his ability to run his smart mouth.

You responded by kissing his chest, little kitten kisses that climbed his throat and jaw and could definitely be heard with demon ears. Popping out from just under his wing, you pecked his lips. His nose just to catch him off guard. “It’s very personal time.” you teased, rubbing his shoulders as his wing unfolded to show you off, sitting happily atop your man.

There were scowls and little demon grumbles you’d never be able to understand, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t even hear them over the sound of Mammon’s purr.

[onceupon]

London Boy - Part 4: Just friends

summary: You wake up to find Rafe Cameron in your bed. Even though nothing happened, you’re still left trying to make sense of it all.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: thank you so much to all of you who have been reading along <333 sorry in advance if you want this to progress faster haha, it simply must be this slow, sorry I don't make the rules (even tho I do lol). Not canon Rafe!! 

masterlist

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the early morning rays wake you up. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. As you slowly gain consciousness you’re startled by the weight of Rafe’s arm draped across your body. What the hell? When did that happen? He spent the night in your bed?

Your mind races at a million miles an hour as you slowly slip out from under his hold. You were careful not to wake him up, not wanting to face any awkwardness. You throw on fresh clothes and grab your backpack, desperate to make your escape. You had wanted to get to school early today to work on some homework anyways, never before so eager to trade in the comfort of your bed for the library. 

After a quick pit stop to pick up a coffee and a croissant, you swing the heavy wooden doors open. You liked campus at this hour, the morning light still soft, the air crisp, and the atmosphere silent. As you scan your eyes for a spot to sit, you notice the unmistakable sight of fluffy brown hair hunched over a table. 

“Liam?” your whisper. “What the hell are doing here?”

That classic cheeky grin spreads across his face as he looks up to find you standing in front of him. “I go here, Y/n. Forget already?”

You roll your eyes, “I just didn’t know you were the studious type.”

“Not gonna lie to you babe, I’m not. But Rogers is already all the way up my ass over this class, and I’m not letting that prick hold me back a year.” 

You pull out the chair across from him and go to sit down, spreading your books out on the table. 

“Who said you could sit with?” he asks, and you shoot him a look. You’re not in the mood. “Geez alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed… you good Y/n?” he slows, taking in your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t so much as brushed your hair. 

“Can you promise not to tell anyone,” you stare dead into his eyes. 

“On my life,” he extends his pinky, and you accept. 

“Rafe… slept over last night…”

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, and your eyes widen at his echoing voice. 

“Not like that,” you hiss, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the two of you. “Nothing happened… like he just came over to watch a show and then we talked for a while and just accidentally… fell asleep. I panicked when I woke up and realized he was still in my bed so I ran out of there as fast as I could and now…. well now I’m here.” You nervously chug your coffee, heart racing. 

“So he hung out with you all night and didn’t make a move?”

You nod, nervously awaiting his analysis as you take a bite of your croissant. 

“Damn, boy must really like you,” he muses. 

“What? Definitely not,” you scoff. 

“Y/n, let me tell you a little something about guys. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. The fact that he’s coming over your room to watch a show and hanging out with you until he physically can’t stay awake - I mean I can’t make it any more obvious to you.”

“I don’t know I just don’t think so… You don’t know Rafe like that, he’s a total player back home. He can pull any girl he wants, so if he liked me like that he would’ve done something by now. This is probably how he is with all his friends and I’m just reading too much into it. I’m sure Lily Colts will be in his bed soon enough,” you mumble. That last part stings in particular, you had already thought it, but saying it out loud made you feel… icky. 

“I may not know Rafe like that, but I know guys like him. I am guys like him. He likes you Y/n. So what if he pulls a lot of chicks, he doesn’t actually care about them. But he cares about you, probably can’t even understand why, and now it’s like bam Uno reverse. He can’t pull the cards he normally does, and now you’ve got him confused and he doesn’t know what to do. Man’s down bad. Give him time though, he’ll come around,” he explains to you calmly, stealing your coffee cup from you and taking a sip. 

“Honestly can I just start paying you to figure my life out for me. You make everything seem so simple.”

“Because it is simple. You insist on complicating it. But I know how you could pay me,” he adds with a wink and you shoot him a glare. You know he’s just joking (partially), he loves pushing your buttons. 

“Well whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it,” you resign on the Rafe matter. You wanted to believe what Liam was saying but it didn’t quite make sense to you. You were only going to drive yourself crazy trying to read between lines that you weren’t sure existed. Rafe was just used to situations like this with girls. To him last night was probably no big deal. It was to you though. You would never let ‘just a friend’ stay over like that, with his arm around you no less. But Rafe didn’t need to know that, you decide. 

—-

You manage to avoid Rafe all day, not having any classes with him on Friday’s. As soon as your last class is over, you sprint home, relieved when you’re the first back at the flat and can quickly slip into your room undetected. You set down your bag and sit on the edge of your bed. Your hand slowly runs over your comforter, still ruffled from where Rafe had been laying the night before. The indent of his head is still on your pillow; you can almost smell the scent of him lingering in your room and hear the sound of his soft whispers. You wonder what his first thoughts were when he woke up in your bed alone - was he confused? Embarrassed? He probably thought nothing of it at all. You can just picture him casually getting up with a stretch, like it’s the start of any typical day.

You slip into the shower and let the water wash over your body. It’s warm and soothing, and it’s reminding you of Rafe laying next to you, of his arm wrapped around you. God if there was only a way to shut your brain off once in a while. As much as you tried to suppress it, there had been a tiny part of you that was happy to have woken up in his embrace, giddy like a school girl with a crush. You’d always wondered how a moment like that would feel, or how a moment like that with him would feel. You had conveniently failed to mention the “arm” detail to Liam, maybe because in the back of your mind you knew it would only help prove his theory right.  

When you make your way back to your room, your phone buzzes and the Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 group chat appears. 

Olivia: who wants to go out tonight 😈

Topper: me and Rafe have to be up early tmrw for soccer - rain check on this one ladies 

Olivia: :( 

Olivia: girls night out??

Millie: you know I’m there!

You’re a little bummed that Rafe won’t be there tonight. But a girls night sounds like just what you need to get him off your mind. 

Y/n: I’m in :)

Not even a few minutes later Olivia and Millie are barging into your room, causing you to let out a startled yelp. 

“My god, heard of knocking,” you exhale with your hand coming to your chest. Your statement falls on death ears. 

“Which jeans with this top,” Olivia asks, holding the clothing items against her body. 

“Should I curl or straighten my hair with this,” Millie follows, holding her outfit up. 

“Uhh,” your mind scrambles, “those jeans Liv. And straight, Mills,” you reply, shocked by your own decidedness. “But now you guys have to help me, I have no clue what to wear.”

“Say less,” Olivia flashes a smile. 

Within minutes they tear through your closet, picking out your outfit. Things were always much more clear with a fresh set of eyes. The three of you discuss the night’s logistics before making your way to the kitchen - couldn’t go drinking on an empty stomach. Rafe and Topper are already there, and you try your best to act natural even though your stomach ties itself in a knot the moment you catch a glimpse of his face. You haven’t seen him since you ran out this morning. 

“Uh hey I’m gonna run to Sainsbury’s real quick, I wanna get a chaser, anyone need anything,” you ask, avoiding eye contact with Rafe. Your nerves get the best of you and in terms of fight or flight, you were ready to flee. 

“Hey wait I’ll come with you. Gotta pick something up for dinner,” Rafe stands grabbing his jacket, and before you can interject, he’s leading the way down the hall and out your shared flat. 

“So what are you chasing tonight?” 

“What?” you ask startled, his question pulling you back to reality. Your mind had been running in a loop, trying to read him and the thoughts in his head. You wished now more than ever that you knew what Rafe was like behind closed doors back home, so you could somehow make sense of it all.

He chuckles at you, lost in your own world. “You said you needed a chaser?” Those intimidating blue eyes have found their way to yours again and you hastily look away, focusing in front of you instead. 

“Oh yeah- uh just for the vodka,” you laugh nervously. 

“Basic,” he mocks. You scoff in surprise and lightly hit him on the chest as the laughter leaves your lips. He’s sporting a shit-eating grin, having successfully egged you on. 

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna do shots of whiskey before going to a club.”

“Well you do owe me one…” he says.

“Oh so he remembers?” you reply, amused.

“Of course,” he states so calm and so sure. Your head swirls at that, his cool confidence making you melt. The automatic doors slide open in front of you, fluorescent lights stealing your attention from the boy you were finding dangerously more attractive by the second.

“I thought we’re supposed to take it together? But someone’s being lame and not coming out tonight,” you say sarcastically, playing it as cool as you can manage. Rafe’s confidence seemed to come naturally, but you were more of a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of gal.

“Hey you know I have soccer,” he defends. The Kook Prince was not one to turn down a party without cause.

“Excuses excuses,” you shake your head.

“Actually, speaking of soccer, you uh- you and the girls should come tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything. Or not too hungover I should say. Game’s at 12.”

“Can’t make any promises Cameron, but we’ll see,” you smile, earning a satisfied smile from him in return. 

You make your way to the frozen food aisle, Rafe explaining to you how they call a soccer field a football pitch here, as you laugh at him grabbing 5 frozen pizzas (dinner solved for the next week, of course). You ask him which chaser you should pick. He points out a cola, so naturally you decide to get blackberry seltzer water, Rafe twisting his face in disgust (who would voluntarily drink that tv static). You always felt so nervous at first, to be in Rafe’s presence, but all it ever took was a few minutes for you to completely relax around him. He was intimidating, yet inviting. Mysterious, yet open. He was somehow the cause of your anxious nerves and yet the source of your comfort. The fear of facing Rafe after running out this morning had paralyzed your thoughts all day, and now you could hardly remember why. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, as if nothing happened. His normalcy confirmed for you that him sleeping over was in fact no big deal, and you almost want to laugh at yourself for how much you had worked it up in your head. You two were just friends, and perhaps Rafe was used to being… a friendlier friend than what you were used to. But that was okay, you could learn to be friendlier too.

—-

Rafe and Topper had decided to accompany you guys in the kitchen as you pregamed. They slowly sipped beers as you, Millie, and Olivia pounded back shots, laughing at the way you guys got progressively drunker and progressively louder before finally heading out. And much to your surprise, the boys were still seated in the same spot hours later, when the three of you stumble back into the flat, McDonalds in hand.

“Oh look who’s still up,” Olivia slurs, taking a bite of her cheeseburger. 

“We can’t go out, we have soccer,” Millie mocks, almost falling to the floor as she trips over her heel, Topper and Rafe not making any effort to hide their clear amusement. 

“Fun night huh?” Topper quirks his brow. 

“The funnest,” Millie holds her head high, sinking down against the wall until she’s sat on the floor. You had made a beeline for the dining room table, silently admiring your chicken nuggets. In that moment, they were the best thing you had ever tasted. 

“I want Jake,” Olivia pouts, and before anyone can say a word she’s turned on her heel, burger in hand, off to crawl into her boyfriend’s bed. 

“Alright you drunk, let’s get you to bed,” Topper laughs, scooping an incoherent Millie up to her feet by her elbows. 

“M’not drunk,” Millie protests, even though she’s leaning her full body weight against Topper who sarcastically nods at her, escorting her down the hallway. Rafe sits on the couch, silently playing with the cards in his hand again, not the least bit uncomfortable with sharing your company in silence. 

“I’m mad at you,” you say matter of factly, taking a bite of a french fry. At this point, the alcohol is doing the talking. 

“Mad at me?” Rafe stops shuffling the cards and raises his head to look at you, intrigued. 

“Yeah because you didn’t come to the club,” you furrow your brows, chucking a fry at him. He catches it instantly, laughing to himself with a shake of his head. 

“Don’t worry I saw all your guys’ snaps, I feel like I was practically there.”

“That’s not the same,” you frown, throwing another fry which he catches yet again.

“I’ll try to be there next time,” he laughs.

“That’s better I guess,” you grumble, eating another chicken nugget. The room grows quiet, Rafe training his attention back to the cards.

“When are we watching the next episode Cameron,” you break the silence, chucking another fry. He barely has to look up to catch your latest throw, shaking his head with a chuckle. He puts the cards down and makes his way over to the dining table, standing right above you now. 

“Come on, time for you to go to bed,” he beckons you toward him with his arm, to which you only furrow your brows in indignation.

“I’m not done with my food,” you protest.

“Now you are,” he says, grabbing your last fry and finishing it with one bite. “Now c’mon.” You reluctantly grab onto his extended arm to help you get up. You walk down the hall together and he opens your door for you, letting you in as he leans against the frame. You immediately fall back and collapse on to your bed with a gasp, you didn’t remember it feeling so soft when you were sober. 

“Goodnight L/n,” Rafe laughs, staring down at you. 

“Goodnight Rafe,” you mumble, seconds away from passing out. He smiles to himself at the sight of you still in the outfit and shoes you had been out in, bent in surely the most uncomfortable position possible, legs half way off the bed, yet somehow already asleep. He’s about to head back to his room, but he hesitates, turning back to you with a sigh. As slowly and quietly as he can, he pulls your shoes off for you, lifts your legs onto the bed, and covers you in your blanket. And just as quick, he slips out of your room and back into his.

—-

You wake up the next morning, letting out a groan when you realize you’re still in the outfit you had worn clubbing. Your head dully aches and your throat is desert dry so you force yourself up and to the kitchen. When you see the aftermath of McDonald’s containers on the table, vague memories start flooding your brain in horror. You couldn’t have… could you? Did you actually throw french fries at him? You close your eyes and slowly run your hand over your face in realization. Great, you think to yourself, Rafe probably thinks you’re an annoying idiot. Good grief.

You hear the door of the flat opening and Olivia appears in the kitchen, holding a plate of breakfast sandwiches, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Thank the lovely lads in apartment 4E,” she laughs, placing them on the table. “Oh god, we went hard last night didn’t we,” she says, taking in the sight of the flat.

“A little too hard…” you remark.

“No such thing, darling! Now eat up and get dressed, we’ve got a match to catch,” she declares before disappearing down the hall where you can hear muffled groans of Millie being reluctantly dragged out of her bed. You sigh and sink down into a chair, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. Heaven. You make a mental note to thank Jake for his chef skills. You had completely forgotten that you and the girls were supposed to go watch Rafe and Topper’s match today. Your worries about having to face Rafe yesterday had been quick to melt away, but today they were back with a new vengeance.

—-

“Okay no one wander off when we get there. Y/n, fair warning, these games get… rowdy,” Millie says, as the three of you walk toward the field, arms linked.

“Things get pretty crazy at Kildare too,” you laugh, “so yeah, don’t fucking let me out of your sight.”

The three of you shake off your fits of laughter as you stumble toward the stands, finding a spot amongst the already packed crowd. You’re finally able to take in your surroundings, glancing at the field ahead. The opposing team is warming up on the pitch, clad in red. Westheath’s team is off to the side, the boys stretching and getting ready in their white uniforms. The dirty blonde immediately catches your eye. He’s jumping and jogging in place, headphones in as though he’s tuning out the physical noise around him, and probably the mental noise too. You wonder if he’s listening to one of the songs he showed you the other night. 

He pauses his jogging to stretch out his arms, his eyes glazing over the stands, when suddenly they lock with yours. Your cheeks flush pink, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but his face just pulls into a wide grin and he gives you a wave. You wave back, and he does a quick hand motion that everyone does at Kildare games back home. You laugh and do the responding gesture, as he smiles cheekily at you before a teammate comes up to him, pulling his focus away. The exchange was brief, but oddly intimate. There was a whole field and a couple dozen people between you, and yet you two were the only witnesses to the interaction. You smile to yourself, relief in the fact that maybe getting a french fry chucked at him wasn’t enough to make him hate you after all. You wonder briefly if Rafe spends half as much time overanalyzing things the way you do. Liam was right, you do insist on overcomplicating things. 

“Hey, earth to Y/n!” Olivia laughs, waving her hand in front of your face. “The game is starting!”

—

The final score flashes on the screen: 4-2, a win for Westheath. The students are going nuts, rushing the field. Olivia and Millie lead the way, pushing through the crowd until you guys reach Rafe and Topper.

“Let’s go boys!!” Olivia yells, jumping up and down with the sea of bodies and beer around you. Rafe and Topper react with equal enthusiasm, pulling each of you in for a hug. You and Rafe are the last to hug, him pulling you in brief but close against his large sweaty body, arms wrapped around you. You don’t even mind the stickiness of the hug, feeling deja vu at the warm feeling of being in his embrace again; a feeling that is foreign yet familiar, one you hadn’t felt before. 

“Did you guys see Rafe’s goal in the second half!?” Topper asks, clapping his friend on the back.

“Of course we did, super star!” Millie cheers, giving Rafe a high five as he humbly shakes his head and laughs at his friends. The mental image of his goal was burned in your head, one that your mind would certainly play for you involuntarily over the next coming days. 

“Alright we gotta go do some stuff with the team, but everyone’s going to Central Bar later. See you guys there?” Rafe asks.

“You got it,” Olivia replies, and they jog off with quick waves, you meeting those blue eyes in silent acknowledgement once again. It was that gaze that always made the rest of the world seem to disappear while his eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Just a tall, attractive, soccer-playing friend…

—

“Y/n! Liv! We’re doing a round!” Jake calls you and Olivia over to where him and Liam are already at the bar, four shot glasses ordered and lined up.

“On three! One, two-“ Liam chants, as the four of you down the alcohol. Central Bar had been buzzing with what felt like half of Westheath’s student body all day. After the game, you and the girls had gone back to your flat to nap and eat, before meeting up with Jake, Liam, and the rest of their boys to head to the bar. Rafe and Topper were already pretty buzzed when you guys got there, playing a round of table tennis with you before the rest of the soccer team and their other friends pulled their attention away. You couldn’t help the way your whole body tensed when Rafe greeted Lily with a tight hug, humbling you with the confirmation that Rafe’s actions toward you weren’t anything special. You resolved yourself to a night of drinking and dancing your worries away with Liv and Liam instead.

“Alright, round of table tennis? You two against me and Y/n?” Liam challenges.

“Please, I saw Y/n playing before, you guys have nothing on us,” Olivia flashes an evil smile, her competitive side coming out.

“Oh it’s on Liv,” you laugh, as your foursome stakes your claim at the pong table. While Olivia and Jake gather the balls and paddles, you notice Liam grimacing off into the distance. You follow his line of sight, landing on Topper and Millie drunkenly dancing together across the bar, a bit too close for comfort.

“What is she doing with that geezer,” he mumbles.

“Liam! Jealousy is unbecoming of you,” you gasp in mock disbelief.

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, and you quickly realize that he actually is, even though you had just been joking. Your jaw falls slack as you put two and two together. Liam and Millie were always by each other’s side, at school, at the pub, when you were all watching a movie at his apartment a few nights ago. He would tease her relentlessly and his own words rang in your ears If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. 

“Shut up! Shut up!,” you whisper yell, hand coming to your mouth. “I should have realized this whole time… of course you like Millie! Everything you’ve been telling me you think exists between me and Rafe has actually been about her! She’s your Uno reverse card!” You’re shocking even yourself at these revelations.

“No no no, you can’t use my own words of wisdom against me, that’s not how this works Y/n. So what, maybe I slightly give a shit about Millie? Who cares. Her and I both know that’s never gonna happen. I still stand by everything I said about you and Rafe so don’t think your getting off so easy on that.”

“Then tell me why you’re staring at Millie while Rafe hasn’t so much as glanced my way since the minute Lily Colts got here, hmm?”

“Oh Y/n, Y/n Y/n Y/n,” Liam tuts, shaking his head laughing as he turns to the game your group of four is about to begin. You don’t have the energy to argue with Liam over the matter right now, oblivious to the fact that Rafe had indeed been glancing your way, several times. In fact, he was glancing at you right now, as Liam reached his arm over yours to help you actually hold the paddle the right way. You just hadn’t been glancing back to notice, scared of what you may or may not see between him and Lily if you did. 

—

The night dies down and it’s time for the pilgrimage back to your building. You’re walking with Millie when Liam quickly falls in step with you two. You give him a knowing smirk, to which he responds with a glare behind Millie’s back, but you let the two banter as you fall behind, now walking alone. You stare ahead, eyes mindlessly settling on Lily walking in between Callum and Henry at the front of the pack. You don’t notice the pair of legs that begin moving in pace next to your own. 

“Tonight, by the way,” Rafe’s voice startles you as you jump next to him. He chuckles at the confusion written all over your face. “You asked last night when we’re watching the next episode. And my answer is tonight, L/n,” he states.

“Haven’t you been up since like the crack of dawn? Aren’t you tired?” you ask incredulously.

“Too tired for Game of Thrones? Never,” he scoffs, Liam’s words ringing in your ear. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Well then tonight it is,” you smile. “Sorry about the french fries last night by the way,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk in front of you, cheeks burning.

“Seriously L/n, talk about a horrible throw. Room for improvement,” he jokes with a comforting smile, saving you from yourself.

“Good game by the way,” you add, grateful for the way he was letting you off. 

“Thanks,” he looks at you, shoving his hands in his pocket. You turn to look at him too, and after a few moments laughter is taking you both apart. Nothing funny was said. Neither of you knew why you were laughing. And yet it felt natural, not an ounce of awkwardness in the air.

As your whole group walks into the building, people begin to peel off, splitting towards staircases and off elevator stops. 

“I’m fucking beat,” yawns Topper, as you and all your flatmates file into your hall. 

“I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight,” Millie yawns in agreement. One by one everyone files off into their rooms. You open your door, backing into yours, Rafe across the hall from you backing into his. Laughter tugs at both your faces once again, as you let your doors close. You manage to change into your sweats and brush your teeth before you hear the light rap on your door. Rafe enters, in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants, your weakness. But you feel comfortable being alone with him now. The Rafe jitters had finally began to subside. 

“Alright L/n, episode 4, you ready for this?” he asks, plopping down in his spot next to you. 

“Oh I’m very ready,” you reply, sitting up to reach for your laptop which was resting by your feet. As you lean back, you find yourself in Rafe’s arm. He had extended it out before you sat back, effortlessly catching you against him. His hand rests casually on your arm, and you gulp, pressing play. You pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat quickens and your body flushes. So much for those jitters being gone. 

The episode plays, you and Rafe making comments here and there before your chatter eventually dies down, leaving just the sound of the show to fill the room. You can feel Rafe’s body lean further and further down, becoming heavier and breathing slower. You very slowly turn to check, and sure enough he’s fast asleep. You sigh, and shut your laptop, careful not to stir him. You could easily shake him awake, tell him to go to his bed, but for some reason you don’t. You don’t mind him here. In fact, you almost prefer it, his body heat keeping you warm. He had already slept over once before and it clearly hadn’t been a big deal, so what was the harm in letting it happen again? You’re just friends after all, you remind yourself, not sure who you’re trying to convince. And so, the two friends fall asleep in the same bed again. 

---

🏷: @hopebaker​ @pogueslandia​ @mardema​

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable. ( Jungkook x Oc) Chapter 3

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ]

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five.  Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Chapter 1   Chapter 2 

Chapter 3

“So, you guys looked pretty cozy in the garden.” Somi pursed her lips, disapproval evident on her sharp features as she watched me hop around, trying to pull the pantyhose up over the fleshiest part of my thigh. It was just a little past six thirty  and I already wanted the night to end. 

“He was telling me how he wanted me to have babies so his son could play with them.” I snapped. 

Somi blinked. 

“And uh..is he providing the baby batter?” She said drily and I laughed.

“I think..... he’s attracted to me.” I said dreamily, remembering the way he’d definitely gotten hard at breakfast this morning. 

“I mean, he’s a straight guy with eyes? Not surprising....” My sister grinned. 

“No, I mean... like actually physically attracted. I felt it too. it made me want to do something unholy with him.” I muttered, eyes misting over at the idea of being spread out on his bed. Satin sheets underneath my body, the weight of his body on mine. 

“He’s a vampire. Pretty sure anything you do with him is unholy.” She winked. I sighed, running a hand over my face. 

“Are you sure this is the way to go? “ I glanced at the robin blue off shoulder gown. I was wary of drawing attention to my neck, especially with a Kim. 

“It’s beautiful. Besides, it is your color. I want to see the look on Jungkook’s face when he sees you. Want to see him regret all his life choices.”

“i thought you didn’t approve of him.” i said amused. 

“I didn’t at first. But then you told me he rejected you and well, no one does that to my baby sister,” She glared and I hugged her close, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

I hesitated.

“Would it be too terrible if I tried to seduce him?” I bit my lips.

Somi’s eyes widened. 

“Sera...”

“Just hear me out.” I said urgently. 

She sighed. 

“Somi, I’ve never been with a man. I just... I can’t get married as a virgin ..I absolutely refuse to. And I sure as hell don’t want to give it up to one of these pompous little brats who act like utter douchebags.  So what am I supposed to do? Now, Jungkook ..” I paused, taking a deep breath to steady my pulse which raced every time I thought about him,. “ ...he’s...he’s so gentle. And nice and I just... I think he’ll make it good for me.”

I felt my face flame, half certain there was steam coming out of my ears. 

Somi looked slightly slack jawed. 

“Oh..um.. okay.” She laughed nervously. “ And how are you goig to get him to agree to this?” 

“Beg? ....  I don’t know...” I groaned. “ What do you think?”

Somi hesitated. 

“I think, for now you should concentrate on showing him that you’re not a child. So , do well tonight. At the dinner. Be polite courteous ... make good conversation... he’s going to be nearby right? Let him see you as an equal... I think he needs to trust that you guys are on equal footing before he will consider anything more ....”

I stared at her, my mind racing.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely right.” I kissed her again.  “i love you. Now get my make up on.”  I said excitedly. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For all that I wanted Jungkook to be slack jawed when he saw me, it was my own jaw that came unhinged when I opened the door to the hallway at exactly 7.00 PM

I stared, my eyes literally popping out of their sockets when i took in the absolute fucking  vision  he looked like. 

Tight, fitted leather pants that molded to his legs , putting those deliciously muscled thighs on display, so tight on his crotch that my mouth watered . A dark belt, cinched tight around his ridiculously slim waist and he’d paired it with a  blue silk shirt , that flowed around his torso like water. A thin black and blue striped tie hung around his neck, knotted loose and the end brushing past his waistline and a small silver earring dangled from his earlobes, catching the light of the lamp in the hallway. 

My throat went dry as I stared at him. 

And then i squinted. 

Oh God, was that a   nipple?

Nope. Not doing this today . 

 “Please excuse me!” I said hoarsely, voice cracking and face flushing red as I turned right back around , wrenched the huge oak door open and all but flew into the safety of my room before  slamming the door shut in his face. 

I sank to the floor in a heap, pressing a palm to my heart, trying to calm my pulse which had shot up so much. Somi stared at me from where she was putting away her cosmetics, eyebrows raised in surprise,. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked worried. 

“I think I just came untouched.” I whispered, staring at her with wide eyes.

Her eyes widened and her lips twisted in disgust.

“Oh my god, you horny little pervert!!! Get up from the floor, you’re wrinkling the dress!!”

I breathed rapidly, trying to get my brain to function but the sight of Jeon Jungkook’s nipples covered only by a thin silk shirt was burned into my mind. 

i had never wanted to lick something so bad. 

The knock on the door made me jump.

“Sera? Are you alright?” Jungkook’s voice called from the corridor and I whimpered. 

“I can’t do this... Please... i can’t.... don’t make me..” I begged. 

My sister gave me a glare and stalked over grabbing my arm and dragging me up with ease. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s not like you’ve never seen Jungkook before, how hot could-” She pulled the door open and froze in place, her eyes going wide as saucers, lips parting in surprise as she stared at Jungkook.

“ Fuck me ..” She whispered softly, clearly having lost all her senses at the sight of him. I elbowed her hard, trying not to burst into tears.  .

Jungkook frowned.

“Excuse me?” 

“Nothing!! Nothing...she’s just excited that I’m finally dating again!!” I laughed cheerfully. 

Jungkook glanced between the pair of us, a small frown on his face but he didn’t question me further.

“Should we go?” He prompted and I smiled, wide. 

 Just don’t look at him. Don’t look at him and you’ll be fine.

I kept my gaze straight ahead as we walked down the corridor. 

“You look nice.” He commented casually and I swallowed.

“You look.....” decadent...like the kind of dessert I’d be tasting for hours... please let me lick your nipples...”.different.” I squeezed my eyes, willing myself to calm down but it was impossible. I swelled and ached in all the wrong places and my thighs trembled with the effort not to rub them together. My insides clenched, arousal dampening the bikini briefs I had on and i had to bite my lips to resist the urge to climb him like a tree and grind down on his thighs till I came. 

 fuck. 

“ Your father mentioned that it would be better if i blended in with the other patrons. He thinks it would make your date more comfortable if I didn’t hover around in black like a ghoul. “ He laughed. 

“ Ahahahahah....” i laughed shrilly, barely listening to a word he said because I was having a mental breakdown. 

I glanced to the front of his chest again, a quick sharp glance and yup.....those were certainly a pair of nipples, the nub hard and obvious through the silk of his shirt. 

Jungkook left to get the car and i stood at the entrance to the mansion, shivering lightly. The small fur throw i had on my shoulder was more for decoration than to keep warm and the night was chilly. 

By the time Jungkook brought the black Bugatti around, I was shaking. 

“Ooh... That’s a fancy car.” I commented , heart racing with how handsome he looked, gripping the steering wheel and he smiled. 

“It’s Namjoon’s . I thought you’d like to arrive in style today.” He grinned. 

I climbed in quickly, eager to get out of the biting wind. The interior was warm and cozy and i moaned, relaxing into the seats. 

“You look really good.” He said again, gaze flitting over me with a little more intent and I blushed. 

“You mentioned.” I whispered. 

“I see you in those godawful t shirts and stained jeans all the time and you’re usually just cleaning  spill ups or washing baby bottles  at the daycare so i keep forgetting .” He shook his head, thoughtfully, fixing the mirrors and glancing back. 

“Forgetting what?” i asked confused. 

“That you are literally the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” 

He said it casually, no fervent ardor behind his words . 

Just a matter of fact observation and somehow, the words felt like liquid heat being poured into me. 

it stuck me then, that I would give my entire life and soul to be on this date with Jungkook. To have dinner with him, to listen to him talk about himself. To tell him everything about myself. To just sit there, staring into his gorgeous face. Hold his hands over the dinner table and gaze into his eyes. 

 I’m so in love with you. 

“You’re not so bad yourself.” I said softly. 

“Yeah? I clean up good, don’t I?” He tilted his head, hair falling into his eye as he winked at me , a small smirk on his cherry red lips. 

I glanced away quickly, because staring at Jungkook was like staring into the fucking sun. 

staring at him made my eyes hurt. 

And it also broke my heart. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Sera....” Mingyu had a very familiar look on his face. A hungry, lustful , disbelieving look that I was altogether familiar with. 

I managed a weak smile in return, letting him hug me , wincing when he buried his nose into my neck, breathing in my scent like he was starving. And the honest truth was, I didn’t even blame him . Control came with age and Mingyu was way too young to have full control over his instincts. And I knew exactly what my scent did to a vampire’s instincts. 

But still, the grip on my waist was bruising and I was having a hard time breathing. I tried to push him away , a bit but Mingyu merely moaned, nosing in deeper.

“You smell amazing.” He sounded punch drunk . 

Over his shoulders, I caught Jungkook’s gaze as he sat at the table next to us. He was frowning deeply. 

“You okay?” He mouthed and I nodded.  it was way too early to pull the plug on this. We hadn’t even sat down for dinner yet. 

I grabbed the arm around me hard and dug my nails into the skin. That made him recoil, pulling away with a wide eyed look of horror on his face. 

“Oh.,..Oh God... I’m so sorry.. I didn’t mean too... I’m so sorry...” he apologized over and over again but I could see the way his eyes flashed red, every few seconds. His hands trembled and shook like he couldn’t wait to get them on me again and my skin crawled at the very prospect of it. 

The guy had zero control. He couldn’t keep his shit together for a dinner date in public. 

My mind flashed to Jungkook, how he’d barely batted an eyelash even while he was  literally  drinking from me and by contrast Mingyu looked like a snot faced, sniveling brat , desperate to have something he wasn’t entitled too. 

I sighed in defeat, tamping down the urge to cry. 

I hated this. Hated men like Mingyu who couldn’t see past what I was. Who couldn’t think past the idea that they would finally be able to drink from me, if they got me on a date. 

“It’s alright. Should we order?” I said softly, my voice shaking just a little. i jumped when water spilled over my hands, Mingyu having knocked his glass over while reaching for the menu. 

“Oh..Oh no.. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry...” He stood up, trying to grab the glass but the water had already spilled across the table dripping over the edge to my dress.

My brand new, Dior dress. 

I turned, letting my  horrified, miserable eyes flit  to Jungkook.

I blinked, shocked at what I was seeing. 

Jungkook was laughing, hard. 

I fought the urge to grin myself as he grinned, shaking his head in disbelief, fingers pressed against his lips in sheer disbelief. 

Well, I suppose it was a little funny. 

Mingyu was on his feet, bowing over an over again muttering about how beautiful I was and how sorry he was and I decided to put him out of his misery. 

Standing up, I bowed politely and stepped away. 

“Mingyu ssi.... I think we should postpone this to another day.” I said gently.

He glanced at me, his eyes flashing red again and gaze dropping to my neck. Oh, for god’s sake. 

“Can I have a taste though?” He said hopefully, holding a hand out to touch me and I flinched when his fingers closed on my wrist. .He yanked hard and I shrieked when his fangs came out, ready to sink into my skin.  

Jungkook materialized between us like he’d been conjured out of thin air. He grabbed Mingyu’s wrist, squeezing till the younger boy howled in pain and yanked him back so hard I heard something pop in his shoulder. . 

“Hands to yourself, Young Mr. Kim. I believe the lady said she would like to call it a night.” Jungkook growled into his face and Mingyu flushed. 

“Yes..Yes of course.. As you wish, Ms. Hwang. Can I have your number? “ He whispered and oh god, this was just so excruciatingly embarrassing for everyone right now.. 

Jungkook stared down at him like he was an insect he’d accidently stepped on. 

“You have to the count of five to get the fuck out of here kid.” He said drily. 

Mingyu flushed even redder, bowing to me once more before grabbing his jacket and scarpering away. 

I stared after him, completely stunned. 

“Can you believe he’s going to be a lawyer?” I whispered. 

Jungkook’s eyes met mine. 

We both started laughing at the same time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This can’t be real. I refuse to believe, that what I witnessed was real.” Jungkook shook his head in disbelief as we waited for the valet to bring the car around.

I chuckled.

“You know what's actually unbelievable?  But true?” I said softly. 

Jungkook stared at me, eyebrows raised. 

“That is actually,  not  the worst first date I’ve had.” I admitted , grimacing. 

“Oh good god. “ He flinched. 

The valet arrived and I watched Jungkook head over to the driver side, before climbing in myself. I scrubbed the water stains on my dress after putting on the seat belt. Jungkook reached over, fixing something on my side of the dashboard and I held my breath as his shoulders brushed my breasts, the scent of his cologne filling my brain and turning it to mush. 

“so, what happened?” He asked settling back and I blinked. 

“huh?”

“Worst first date?” He prompted , pulling the car out into the driveway. 

“Oh... oh yeah. Freshman year of college. Agreed to date one guy...turned up at a hotel, he had three of his friends over.” I swallowed. “ They nearly killed me.”  

The car nearly veered off the pathway, Jungkook having gripped the steering wheel too hard and jolted it to the side.  

“Sera-  what? The sheer horror in his voice was palpable. 

“ They wanted a taste and I was an idiot back then I said okay just a taste for each of you...they were young...couldn’t control themselves .... so they just get drinking and well, I can usually let someone drink from me for a long time because my blood it sort of regenerates fast enough but...three people at the same time... I almost got exsanguinated.” 

“Jesus fuck.! tell me those bastards are dead...” He snarled. 

“My dad got them de-fanged.” I whispered. Jungkook flinched away as well. Being de-fanged was pretty much a death sentence because you couldn’t feed anymore. 

“Serves them right. Three of them...what the fuck.” Jungkook shook his head, jaw clenched. 

i swallowed.

“It’s kind of why I haven’t been with any Vampires. After that my dad got really protective of me and well, he doesn’t like the idea of me meeting  strangers. I was actually pre med back then. I couldn’t handle it. I quit and well, dad hired tutors for me and I got my degree in Childcare. And that’s okay. I love kids..” I laughed.

“You’re amazing with them. I’ve never seen Joowon this happy.” He said gently. 

“Its why I prefer staying with the clan. Only my family gets to feed from me occasionally because I don’t trust strangers to bite me, because they could lose control.”

The moment I said it, I regretted it. Jungkook’s eyes bore into me and i knew exactly what he was thinking. I didn’t trust people. Didn’t let anyone drink from me. 

And yet, I’d let Jungkook drink from me. He wasn’t family. He wasn’t even a friend. 

But he didn’t bring it up. instead he just sighed. 

“It’s not an excuse, you know. “ Jungkook said softly.

“Hmm?”

“Being young, its no excuse.  I’m not a born vampire which makes my instincts more potent and even dangerous but even in the first few months when I was turned... I never attacked anyone. Self control is a choice. That dude you met today... I doubt he gave a shit about you. Bastard just wanted a taste.... Could fucking see it in his eyes.” Jungkook sounded righteously upset on my behalf. 

“Now you know why I’m attracted to you.” I said softly. 

Jungkook froze. 

“Sera, -”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I said quickly, hating myself. 

Jungkook didn’t reply. 

Cursing myself for ruining the mood, I cleared my throat.

“I still don’t have to be home for a couple of hours. We could go somewhere else...” I suggested softly.

Jungkook gave me a small smile.

“I’m your bodyguard, Sera. If you choose to go somewhere , I’m kind of obligated to follow you.” He reminded me. 

I flushed.

“Right.....yeah...yeah. of course.” I stumbled over the words, so reminiscent of Mingyu that I felt a little sick. 

“So where to, Ms. Hwang?” He said casually. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“People can’t stop staring at us tonight .” Jungkook grumbled, glaring at a couple who had stopped their bicycles, just to gawk at him.

I laughed, tugging on his sleeve to pull him to a more secluded spot of the river bank, both of us looking distinctly out of place in a crowd of people dressed in comfortable clothes. 

 I hugged myself, watching the waves lap the river bank as I sat on a rickety wooden bench, a few dozen feet away from the water’s edge . The river looked especially picturesque today, reflecting the incandescent lights from Seoul’s skyline. 

“It’s because we’re dressed like we’re presenting at the Oscars.” I grinned at him and Jungkook’s lips quirked in a small smile. He stood by, glancing around at the people watching by, occasionally at the river as well. 

“This is nice. Do you come here often?” He asked , eyes skimming the city’s skyline , as he stuck his hands into his pockets. 

I hummed. 

“Sometimes. With Somi or Jimin. They like those ice lollies you get down the road.”  I smiled. “ I brought the kids here one weekend and they had a lot of fun.” 

Jungkook laughed.

“I bet they did. I should bring Joowon here someday.” He said thoughtfully. 

“ I could pack you guys some lunch.  Make it a picnic. “ I suggested and his gaze shifted to me thoughtful. 

“That won’t be necessary Ms. Hwang. I’m sure one of the cooks will be able to do it.” He said evenly and I tried not to let the words sting. 

“Of course.” I turned back to the river. 

For a few minutes we didn’t say anything. 

“Where were you? Before moving to Seoul?” I asked quietly. 

Jungkook hesitated before moving around to settle next to me on the bench. 

“Busan.” He said , staring out into the distance. “ I worked for a warlock there . For five decades nearly. His daughter was part vampire , part witch and well... I was lonely. “ His face showed a whole lot of regret, “ She had Joowon five years ago and tried to offer him as a blood sacrifice or something when he was born.” He grimaced. 

“She what?” I said stunned. 

He ran a palm over his face

"I didn’t want to do it but I had to kill her. Joowon was three months old and well, I had to quit my job soon after. Moved to one of the smaller villages nearby. Your father paid for my food and lodging. He wanted me to come over to the clan at once but I didn’t want to be a freeloader. When your father suggested you needed protecting, i thought it would be a good way to pay him back for everything.” He sighed. 

“Did you know who I was?” 

He gave me a look.

“Every Vampire with a dick knows who you are.” He said ith a dry smile and I flushed, looking away. 

“Jungkook...”

“The most desirable of humans. The perfect mate. The unsullied jewel of the Hwang clan.” 

He was laughing now, eyes warm and fond in the fading light of dusk and I found myself completely bewitched. 

“Unsullied....” I shook my head. “ I can’t believe people know I’m a virgin.” 

Next to me Jungkook went completely still. 

I turned to him and there was no mistaking the stunned look on his face. 

“What?!” I said feeling like my face was on fire. “ I told you I’ve never been with a Vampire.” 

“I didn’t think you meant... “ He stopped, swallowing. “ Anyways its none of my business. Let’s talk about something else.” 

Something wicked began to stir inside me.

“I’m saving it for the right man.” I said softly. And then I turned to stare right at him, long enough to get the point across. 

He stiffened a bit more.

So i barreled on. 

“These bumbling fools who can’t string two words together in my presence....They don’t deserve someone like me, don’t you think?” I prompted. 

He swallowed again and I felt a sort of vindictive satisfaction. Just knowing that I affected him possibly just as much as he affected me. It soothed my bruised ego a bit, the way he refused to meet my eyes now, making up for his brutal rejection earlier. . 

“I deserve someone amazing, don’t you think Jungkook?” I pressed on and he finally looked at me, eyes blazing. 

“Only the best for you, princess.” He muttered  holding my gaze. and I tried to ignore the way the nickname made warmth bloom all over my skin. 

“Yes. Only the best. I don’t want any of these younglings with their fumbling hands and stammering words. I want a  man. Someone who knows how to put me  in my place.” 

Jungkook gripped the bench hard the old wood splintering under his strength and I bit my lips. 

“Someone who can be gentle, show me what I’ve been missing out on. Show me how good it can be with the right person, who can get me wet and wanting without even touching me...” 

He exhaled sharply at that 

“We should probably get-” he moved to get up but i was quicker. . 

Not so fast, Mr. Jeon. 

I scrambled over to him, climbing his lap and grinding down on him, before he could fully realize what I was doing. The impact took him by surprise and he grunted, settling back on the neck and hands gripping my thigh to stop me from toppling over. 

“Sera-what” he looked furious but i pressed a palm to his mouth. 

“Are you going to pretend you don’t understand what I’m asking for?” I demanded, heart pounding against my ribcage as I looped his tie over the wrist of my other hand, once , twice, giving it a yank so he had to bend over, his lips inches away from mine. 

“And exactly what are you asking for, princess ?” He whispered, his breath warm against my lips.

“A teacher. Someone who can show me the ropes.” 

“Ropes? For your first time....oh baby, you sure?” His eyes danced with mirth. 

Not entirely sure what he was implying, I just stared back at him.

“You can do it. You can be my  first. “ I brushed my lips against his, softly. it was barely a touch, hardly a kiss. 

Jungkook stared at me, his hands lightly squeezing my thighs  for one second, before falling to his sides again. 

“The only first I’m going to be,  is the first man to toss you into a fucking river, if you don’t get off me right now , Princess.” He said casually. 

I stared at him, refusing to budge and he stood up anyway 

i yelped, nearly landing on my butt before i managed to catch my balance. 

He made to walk away but i grabbed his arm, pulling him close. And it was ridiculous, the fact that he came closer, the fact that he let me grab his wrist, bring them up to my waist. 

“Please kiss me.” I begged. 

“You don’t want this.” He said softly, hands rising up to brush the hair off my forehead and I gripped his shoulders levering myself up to press a kiss to his lips.

It was quick, over before it even began. 

“That’s the only kind of kiss I’ve ever had. “ I said desperately “ It was a boy in college. He kissed me like that and then he asked me if he could bite me. I refused and he never talked to me again....”

“Sera...” He looked stricken and miserable and I let my fingers flutter to his collar, gripping it hard and yanking on it, feeling angry and upset and altogether miserable. 

How ridiculous...that men all over the country tripped over themselves to be with me and yet here I was, reduced to a pathetic begging mess just for one measly kiss from this man..... 

 “ I want to be kissed. I don’t know how it feels to be kissed..to be wanted for something other than the blood that flows in my veins.... I just want someone to kiss me because they want to...because I’m beautiful and precious and i deserve to be kissed and -” 

Fingers clamped over my arms, gipping me hard and almost lifting me off the ground as Jungkook pulled me up, my eyes fluttering shut just as his lips closed over mine, soft and tender and warm and wet and so delicious I couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out. 

I let my hands fall to his chest, the soft smooth silk of his shirt felt like heaven underneath my fingers and through the thin fabric i could feel his heart, pounding against his ribcage. I ran my fingers over his torso, the strong muscles flexing beneath my fingers and my fingers crept up to grip his upper arm, the coiled strength in his bicep making my legs quiver. 

He tasted like mint , his tongue licking the seam of my lips and begging entrance and my lips parted in surprise, the sensation so new and electrifying. 

I gasped when I felt his tongue tangling with mine as he pressed in closer. I groaned , almost forgetting to breathe when Jungkook’s  lower lips brushed mine, his teeth tugging the plump flesh of my lips harshly , biting down gently and my lips parted, giving him better access. He was so warm and strong and big and  i couldn’t get enough of him, my body wanting nothing more than to stay pressed against his for the rest of our lives. 

He used slow, subtle strokes of his tongue to taste me, gentle licks that made my head swim and it felt like I was drowning, in the heady taste of him . I felt weak as a kitten, my fingers scrambling up to grip his hair, tangling in the silky black locks, gripping to ground myself and i accidentally yanked a little too hard making him pull back, a little. 

 He laughed gently, right against my lips, the sound sexy and arousing and I groaned, chasing the taste of him and Jungkook obliged, nipping my lips again with his teeth , soft little pin pricks of pain and pleasure,  before laving the abused skin with his tongue. His hand came up to cup my cheek, holding me in place as he kissed me deeper . 

 I could feel myself go weak in the knees, stumbling into him and he wrapped one arm around my waist holding my body up as he nibbled and teased and drove me insane with his touch. 

Jungkook’s hand slipped, from my cheek, down to my neck, his fingers brushing back and forth on my bare shoulder before moving down, lightly gently brushing my breast . 

I melted, gasping as he shaped the swell of my breast with his hand, thumb rubbing gently against the tip till my nipples pebbled up and I felt a sob build up, pulling away from him to catch my breath, gripping him hard and burying my face in his shoulders, overwhelmed and shaking. 

“Darling... you alright?” Jungkook whispered, hands reaching up to stroke the back of my head and i clung to him, wrecked. 

“Please don’t let me go.” I panicked when he made to move away and he froze at once, drawing me closer, hugging me tighter.

“I’m right here princess. You’re going to be okay.” His voice rumbled through my body and I willed myself to stop shaking but i couldn’t. 

“What did you do to me...?” I asked hoarsely, my body thrumming. 

He laughed, voice low and tinkling. 

“I kissed you. You begged me to kiss you and I obliged.” He teased. 

I shook my head against the fabric of his shirt, clutching his waist harder. 

“That was not a kiss.” I snapped. “ That was...That was....attempted murder.”  

 Jungkook laughed harder at that, 

“Take deep breaths, darling. Relax.... You’re going to be okay. Just catch your breath you’ll be fine.” He kissed the top of my head, gentle and fond and I closed my eyes. 

“I need a few more minutes.” I said softly. 

“ I’m right here. “ He whispered. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook turned the car off and we both sat in the silence, staring straight ahead into the murky waters of the river. I was still in shock, my brain rendered entirely useless from one single kiss.

 He had kissed me senseless. 

 Literally. 

“I can’t give you what I want.” He said gently. 

I bit my lips.

“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.” I whispered. 

He made a sound, a sharp little exhale.

“Fuck, Sera...you’re killing me.” He swore. 

I clenched my fists. I was so scared, that this would be yet another rejection and I just knew that I couldn’t live without his kisses. Not now, when I knew just how amazing they were. 

“I’m serious. I... I won’t ask you to court me or do any of that serious stuff. Just.. Just want you to touch me. Keep touching me. And kissing me. ” I finished stupidly. 

Jungkook laughed a little.

“God, you’re so young... I feel like the worst kind of man for wanting this so fucking much.” 

I felt my heart soar at that. it was the first time he’d acknowledged wanting me and i reveled in it. 

“If we’re going to do this, I need you to understand exactly what you’re getting into.” He said softly. 

I felt my heart begin to pound, a steady thrum that was so loud in my ears that I couldn’t fathom how he couldn’t hear it. 

“This is going to be physical. Only physical. I don’t want you to dream of something that isn't going to happen. “ He said sternly. 

I nodded. 

It sounded like a recipe for a disastrous heartbreak but if i could get more kisses like the one I’d just had.... well, maybe I could deal with it when it happened. 

“I’m the one who gets to decide when , where and how.” He turned to look at me and I met his gaze. “ i won’t have you trying to climb me in the mansion in front of everyone.” 

i flushed. 

“Fine. “ I snapped. 

“You don’t stop meeting your potential suitors. You don’t turn them down without cause.” 

I groaned.

“Jungkook...” i began but he held a hand up. 

“Not all of them are going to be incompetents fools, Sera. There’s a guy out there good enough for you. “ He insisted ,  “  I’ll warm your bed till you find him, because you’re beautiful and I’m fucking weak” He shook his head, laughing without mirth, “ but... I won’t have you ruining your chances of making a worthy match. “ 

I nodded. 

“Alright. Anything you say.” 

He gave me another long look before starting the car. 

“Okay. My room, tomorrow. After 11.00PM. Wear something I can take off easily.” He said drily. 

I felt the grin creeping into my face, wide and shameless and he groaned. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : Jeon Junkook ssi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A chapter inspired entirely by jeon jungkook’s nipple in that blue shirt.