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whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year

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(seven) days a week, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: It only takes seven days (a week) for Jeon Jungkook to get you in his bed to fuck you right. And showing up in weird places. And kissing in the rain. He's crazy. Okay, it's kinda complicated.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language (reader swears a lot); strangers-to-lovers; vague allusions to a loveless childhood and bad parenting (no specifics); JK might be insane and you do tell him that he is; slight crack; fluff; smut (fem reader, fucking with clothes on and off, m and f-receiving oral, light hair pulling, fingering, nipple play, choking, penetrative sex, handjob); non-idol!BTS – persistent!Jungkook x noona, def tsundere!reader lol ft instigator-cupid!Park Jimin setting them up

this directly follows Jung Kook's 'Seven' MV, so make sure to watch it (although I'm sure you've seen it if you wanna read this lmao)

monday.

“What? Something on my face?”

You stared at him and he stared back. Wide eyes, slightly parted lips, the look of caught prey and all. You had your hands in front of you, long fingers laced together, elbows on the table. You probably shouldn’t have scowled like that. That was a bit rude, especially to someone you didn’t know well, but this guy had been staring at you all night and barely speaking to you, even when prompted, so you were getting both impatient and annoyed at accepting this invitation.

“You wear… a lot of jewelry,” Jeon Jungkook said out loud, with awe.

You looked down at your hands. Well. The rings, the bracelets, even the earrings on both your ears, all sterling silver or white gold. You had even swapped out the lower lobe piercing for a pair of dangling dice earrings with grey freshwater pearls. You liked the cooler tone to bring some death to your warm-toned skin.

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Your low voice had an edge of guarded to it.

A quick, nervous head shake. “No. No, it’s cool. I’ve never seen a girl wear so many chunky rings like that. I didn’t think I’d like it either, but then I saw you.”

You opened your mouth to snap out a comeback and then his words hit you.

There was no doubt that Jeon Jungkook was cute. Black-brown hair with a lustrous quality. Bright, expressive dark brown eyes. Slightly rounded cheeks with a distinct jawline. He said he had, and you could see, tattoos and piercings, something you quite liked but not a requirement. Built body, in the way that people where when they were committed to taking care of their physical appearance. Not so much in vanity, but in the way that matched how they felt that they should look in their head. Respect for that. But, in this chance that was what you had expected to be his, Jungkook didn’t taken it.

He looked the part.

Didn’t act it, though.

Black blazer, matching trousers. White t-shirt. Dressy but not too much. To be honest, the outer appearance didn’t matter much to you. It actually mattered the least. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Really. You were often told that you had too little patience for people, but, come on!

This conversation was awkward.

Hah.

You turned as you sensed a lively presence re-entering your icy atmosphere. Hmph. The actor playing Cupid in the instance. He looked the part too. Baby blue dress shirt with the top buttons undone. Ivory slacks, neatly pressed. Black hair perfectly curled over his forehead, framing an angelic face. Full lips forming an infectious smile that made his eyes disappear as small hands folded away the receipt and tucked his card back into his wallet.

“Ah, the waitress and I had a cute little chat,” flirty Park Jimin chuckled, giving you a little eyebrow wiggle. You rolled your eyes at him. “Did you guys have a nice talk while I was gone?”

“Um…?” Jungkook started, nearly afraid to glance at you for some support.

You gave Jimin a deadpan stare. “You trying to get her number?”

“Me? No, no!” he waved his hands, sitting back down to lean in. “She gave it to me anyway though.”

Figures Park Jimin would introduce you to a guy and also get the number of someone else in the restaurant. You deliberately hadn’t answered Jimin’s question, but he hadn’t noticed.

Jungkook, however, did.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him deflate a little and you winced in unease, not sure if you should have avoided it, but at this point the waitress had returned, lashes aflutter and gushing about how they just had to try to fried ice cream and it was on the house, as long as Jimin promised to come back, right? Right?

Jimin promised of course, of course, with a big smile.

You completely ignored him and picked up one of the pieces of fried ice cream – mango, it seemed, by the color – and placed it on one of the small plates before setting it right in front of Jungkook.

He perked up and gave you these big, hopeful eyes.

You didn’t say anything but felt your cheeks flush and your gaze shift, putting on an expression of reluctant apology. After a half second, you bowed your head just a bit, shaking off the moment and serving yourself before serving Jimin.

What?

Damn flirt didn’t even notice.

tuesday.

“You didn’t like him?”

“I mean, there’s nothing to like or dislike. He barely said anything. Also, Jimin, I told you, I’m not really a relationship person,” you sighed into your phone, walking quickly to the train station. “I don’t want to give this guy the wrong idea about me. He didn’t really strike me as a fuck-around-and-find-out kinda guy.”

“You said you would change your mind for the right person though.”

Sometimes you thought Jimin argued with you just to argue.

“Yeah, and I don’t even know what kind of person he is because he didn’t say shit,” you barked back to that snippy tone on the other side of the line. Some idiot honked at you and you resisted the urge to flip him the bird. Maybe he wasn’t honking at you. The hanging out the window and catcalling could be to the couple walking next to you.

You highly doubted it.

Also, maybe you just wanted to give someone the middle finger because you couldn’t show Jimin right now how much you deeply appreciated him.

“Jungkookie’s just super shy, but wait a minute and he’ll make you his.”

You rolled your eyes. Damn bad habit that you were forming ever since you became friendly with this mildly infuriating angel. “He’s not making me do anything.”

“I’m telling you; he suits you perfectly. You’re being stubborn and not giving him a chance. Anyway, I gave him your number, so don’t worry!”

“Wait, you did wha–”

The roar of the subway train below cut you off.

“Oop, you’re at the station. You’re breaking up! Can’t hear you, byeeeeeee!”

You twitched as Park Jimin hung up on you.

Asshole.

You pulled your phone away from your ear and pulled up the app to pay for your ticket. Paused for a second. New message, unknown number. Then it was your turn, so you hovered your phone screen, heard the beep, and hurried to the correct train line, finding the one to take you home. It was hectic even now, still within the dregs of rush hour, so you didn’t even think to check for the content of the text until you sat down with a big sigh, somewhat of a fwump with your distressed bomber jacket and baggy cargo pants, both made of thick black fabric. The side of your jacket slid off, exposing your bare shoulder and tight white tank top.

The guy standing about a meter away from you snuck a glance in your direction.

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and yanked your jacket back in place with the hand that was holding your phone. Noticed the screen flash, reminding you of the notification.

Fuck it.

Pressed your thumb and your phone unlocked.

Hey, it’s me. Jeon Jungkook… I wanted to say that I’m sorry about not talking that much last night. I was really nervous because you were so pretty and self-assured. I was so impressed that nothing I could think of seemed like a good thing to say, so I blanked out. I’m very sorry. I hope it is okay for me to text you like this.

An essay.

You paused for so long that you felt your cheeks heat.

The fuck?

You frowned at yourself. For some reason, even though he hadn’t talked much, you could hear the text in your head as if Jungkook was speaking to you directly. Sense the anxiousness in the typed words. See those big eyes gazing right at you with a mixture of curiosity and wonder and what-ifs. You sighed, feeling defeated. It would simply be rude to not reply.

I apologize for being too intimidating.

You sent it before thinking. Aw, shit. That was a bit short, wasn’t it? Damnnit. You saw the sending quadlet of dots spinning slowly, struggling due to you being underground. Fuck. If you sent another message now, it might be out of order and that would just get confusing. And what else could you add? Oh, geez, you didn’t even confirm it was you. The conversation with Park Jimin must have scrambled your egg brains.

The train roared out of the tunnel.

All of a sudden, the message sent and a reply instantly popped up. Actually, a serious of bubbles, rapid-fire like bullets. The confirmation must have lagged.

You’re not intimidating at all! Well… not in a bad way. In a sexy way. I mean, in a good way! In a cool way, like you’re not afraid to say what you wanna say. I really admire that in a person, so I really admire that in you. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it? I made things weird… ㅠ.ㅠ

You blinked slowly at the messages. It was pretty clear Jungkook had sat there and pondered over the first message for quite a while and these subsequent ones were stream of consciousness spewing. Honestly, kind of funny. Heh. You could sort of imagine it. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to respond right away. Hm, you wondered if he had hoped you would. He really was trying hard, huh. For what? What was the reason?

You tucked your tongue in your cheek and responded anyway.

Oh, you’re definitely weird, but you never know. I might like that. What’s the outfit of the day, Jeon Jungkook?

Were you fishing for a photo? Of course. He would probably scramble to put on a good outfit to impress you. To your surprise, the downloading image icon popped up instantaneously, spinning, spinning. You tilted your head, surprised at the prompt obedience. He must have snapped a pic right away when you asked. It was taking time to load though. You saw some people getting off the train and looked up, checking the stop. Oh, yours was next.

You took care not to look directly at anyone around you, keeping your sling bag in your lap.

Then you looked down to the inquisitive dark brown eyes of Jeon Jungkook with messy black hair and a black leather jacket. White t-shirt. It was a selfie, so you couldn’t see the pants. It was something borderline vain about the angle, but also a seek of approval in that parted mouth, silver ring and stud dotting the edge of the right side, flash of white teeth and slight bite of the left side revealing a small mole at the center underneath his lower lip.

You twitched.

Bold, wasn’t he?

You weren’t sure if you liked it – well, you didn’t mind it, you just weren’t sure if you like-liked it, what was he trying to play at here, trying to get your heart to beat fast or something, hmph – and you clutched your phone pointedly, your rings clacking as you prepped your fingers to type back… something, be honest here… and your fingers wavered.

Shaking a little.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you had been holding.

Oh, the pants are blue jeans, but I’m out right now so there’s no mirror to show you.

You heard your stop being called and stood up automatically, filing behind other people getting ready to step off, the train slowing down, everything slowing down, finding yourself staring at Jungkook’s expression in the photo, why were you staring, shifting your eyes quickly, then back, it wasn’t like Jeon Jungkook could see you, ugh, this was so annoying.

Do you want to see? I can take another photo when I get home.

You let out a frustrated exhale that no one else around you could understand. Maybe not even those closest to you would get it. But you knew what it meant, and knowing also frustrated you.

Being self-aware was a bitch.

You finally sent your answer.

I much prefer this look on you than the blazer. Is this your normal fashion style?

You had worn a flowing white blouse and floaty black skirt the night before at dinner, but it was not your typical style. Well, it was, but it was one of your work outfits since you had come straight from the office. Something you wore to not get in trouble with the dress code and knowing you would have to meet up with people later. Sometimes you were a little riskier if you were feeling frisky, but Jimin had told you to look nice for the friend he was introducing you to.

But maybe it would have been better to look more you.

Then again, the restaurant was pretty high end. They might not have let you in.

Oh. Yeah. Hahaha, I wore the blazer because Jimin-ssi told me to look nice for you. I guess this is street-style? I don’t know… I’m not fashionable, I only wear what I think is cool or comfy. What about you?

You strode out of the train and briskly walked to the elevator, muscle memory already knowing where to go, typing back. Pausing when you saw the vending machine. A green tea would be nice right now.

You veered off course and headed to stand in line.

I think my friends would describe my style as dark and strong. They’re always telling me I should dress more feminine or at least in less black, but one of my core traits is not listening to shit people say. And swearing.

You tapped your card and made your selection. Waited out the whirr and clunk. Didn’t pay much attention to the world around you. It was a typical day, people passing by, no warning feelings. And, besides, your phone was much more interesting right now.

You did not just think that.

You scowled at your reflection in the glass of the vending machine before picking up your drink.

I hope I get to see you sometime soon so I can appreciate it. :)

You raised an eyebrow at your phone as you ticked open the can and started walking again, taking a crisp sip. It was slightly irritating that he was better at flirting over text than in person. Or maybe it had just been the circumstance. Come to think of it, it would have been weird if he did with Jimin right there, although you were sure Jimin wanted to be there to witness whatever unfolded. The awkwardness was probably just as entertaining to him as it would be if Jungkook had been more forward.

Hmph.

What was more irritating was that you weren’t instantly annoyed by it.

Hmmmmph.

Are you saying you aren’t intimidated by me, Jeon Jungkook?

You hurried home, following the streetlights, breathless, not because you were running, but because you wanted to be home so you could be alone with…

I’m saying I like feeling your effect on me in person.

Him.

wednesday.

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook, you were groaning and setting your forehead on the edge of washing machine, screaming internally. Would have banged it against the metal if you weren’t going to lose a substantial number of brain cells. You were going to pay cash because you wouldn’t get that card surcharge if you did but, of course, of course you had accidentally shorted yourself and pocketed the wrong amount.

Fuck!

Now you were already at the laundromat. Walk back home and lug your shit to and back to get the right amount? Or just forget it and pay the extra charge? You had already put the detergent in. Fuckity fuck fuck. Technically you could go home, it wasn’t that far, but, ugh, it was extra annoying today because you had slept late and now you were grumpily doing your life responsibilities. Come back a different day? No, you had specifically told yourself to get off your ass and get that pile washed. Damnnit, if you hadn’t slept late and scrambled your egg brains, this wouldn’t have happened!

But you had been talking to Jeon Jungkook.

Ending the conversation had been more difficult than you expected. You gritted your teeth, feeling stupid for pulling such a teenage move. Still young, huh? Young and stupid.

Grr.

You heard the metal slide of the money drawer being closed and then an approval ping!

You jumped back, freaked out at the thing you hadn’t done, and then snapped your head to the sudden presence next to you. Dark blue jeans with giant holes at the knees. Gray hoodie sliding off a built right shoulder. White ribbed tank top. Messy black hair. A piercing, no, two on the right side of open lips.

Big, round, dark brown eyes.

You noticed he was wearing a few silver rings himself.

“Um… hi? I noticed you were short a little so I just…” Jeon Jungkook trailed off, giving you a hopeful look.

You gawked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

Ouch. A little too snappy. Jungkook faltered, those peepers shifting. “Ah… well…”

You bit your tongue and reeled it back. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to see you, is all. Obviously, you came here to wash your clothes like everyone else.”

He reached up and scratched the back of his head nervously. Wait. Why was he looking at you like that?

“W-Well, actually… Jimin-ssi told me you normally come here on Wednesdays to do laundry and I was nearby so I figured., maybe, I’d just check if you were here…”

You stared at him.

“You’re stalking me?”

“N-No!” Jungkook sputtered, waving his hands frantically even though you hadn’t raised your voice.

There was a bristle to your tone though. Indignation and frigidity you couldn’t hide. You frowned, narrowing your eyes, cornering him with your gaze. There were only a few people on this slow day, which was why you picked Wednesday to do laundry, but all the patrons had AirPods or other earbuds in, busying themselves with their shoving of clothing in and out of the washers and dryers. No one was going to interrupt anyway.

Not their business.

“I… I…”

“And how did you recognize me anyway? My head was down,” you remembered, advancing on him, and Jungkook took a step back, swallowing hard. Your outfit was baggy too, dark denim jacket and jeans, the tight black tank hidden by the bulk.

“I couldn’t forget how beautiful your hair is,” he mumbled out quickly, looking a little too mesmerized by your fierceness. Forget that. “And your hands were on the edge of the washer. Your rings. The star chain bracelet you wear. I…”

He was fixated on your collarbones and the thin black choker around your neck.

Or lower.

“Oi! My face is up here,” you hissed, snaping your fingers and making him jerk his head. He had stopped backing up though. You pointed at him, somewhat rudely. Actually, very rudely, but whatever. “What do you mean, check if I was here? And who told you? That idiot. I’ll kill him.”

And why was Jungkook looking at you like that?

Like he thought you were hot when angry.

He better stop that shit because you were losing your irate demeanor for some fuckin’ reason.

“I texted you almost all night. That wasn’t enough?” you half-growled, half whispered.

A tiny head shake.

Ah, shit.

You deliberately did not think that was cute.

“I liked it so much that I…” Oh no, oh no, not that honest tremble and deep gaze into your eyes. “I was hoping I could talk to you again, in person, more bravely this time.”

You opened your mouth to sink in that verbal bite and nothing came out.

The entire laundromat could flood right now and you wouldn’t even notice because you were staring at Jeon Jungkook and wondering if this audacity was freaking annoying or freaking impressive. Not this damn guy within two days leaving you speechless. Well… actually, no, never mind the technicalities.

“Are you even thinking before you do things?” you grumbled, not yet backing down.

Jungkook stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets suddenly. Hm? Nervous and shaking? You couldn’t tell, but you watched him closely, observing his body language, your eyes following those lines.

“Mmmm…” He bit the left side of his lower lip. “No?”

You strongly resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

Shy smile greeting you, accompanying the lip bite.

“I’m just listening to my heart.”

Now you visibly cringed. “Don’t say stuff like that.” Looking away slightly, somehow unable to meet those honest eyes.

“Why? You don’t like it?” Genuinely curious.

“You don’t mean it.” He did mean it and you could see that he meant it but you did not want to admit that you knew that he meant it. Yeah. “You barely know me. We only talked over text.”

“But you gave me thoughtful, frank answers. I don’t believe that you were being dishonest,” Jungkook protested, following you over to the tables a few steps away from the washing machines. You dragged your laundry bag with you and kept your voice down.

“I told you, I’m a straightforward an honest person. I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hesitate to cut you off if you lie to me,” you reminded him.

He nodded. You wanted to shake him and yell at him to stop giving you those eyes. “So I just decided to do what I wanted to.”

You cocked your head at him in disbelief. “You didn’t think you went too far?”

What was with that mischievous smile? “I’m the all-in type.”

You let out a puff of air.

“Also, you haven’t told me directly that you don’t like it,” Jungkook pointed out, leaning toward you, smiling.

You gave him a deadpan stare. “You don’t get me,” you said back flatly.

Those dark brown orbs sparkled. “That’s okay. I don’t have to get you to think you’re cool, clever, and stunning.”

Your eyebrow twitched.

“And why do you say that? Because you see how people look at me? Because you enjoyed my useless facts and tangents last night? Because you think with your dick?” You added the last question with bite, leaning forward too, having enough of this, not really him but…

The fact that you didn’t want to tell him to fuck right off.

Silence.

Jungkook was staring into your eyes.

“The shape of your eyes is so… perfect.”

You felt your ears heat.

He raised a finger and traced the air right in front of your left eye, the scent of his clean cologne drifting in your direction. “The way they sharpen in the inner corner, like a bird of prey… And your irises are so dark and striking…”

You grabbed his finger out of the air.

“Don’t be… weird.”

Why did you pause? Hello? No way you’re being like this over this guy right now.

You pointedly pulled his hand down, pinning it to the table. “Pay attention.”

Jungkook was giving you this dreamy, hazy expression. “Huh? What were you saying?”

You narrowed your eyes. “You can’t even listen.”

He leaned in closer and you caught a whiff of that delicious cologne again. “Sorry. I will. Say it again, please. I’ll listen carefully.”

The fuck were you saying again? The lights of the old laundromat flickered but you barely noticed. A common occurrence in these ol’ mom-and-pop places. And, besides, you were staring at this determined, patient smile and mentally shoving down those butterflies that you definitely weren’t feeling, nope, violently compacting those distracting internalizations into a tiny, windowless box.

“You don’t seem very good at listening,” you finally said, tight and even.

“I am,” he insisted softly. “I promise.”

“I’m too much for you.”

Or was Jungkook too much for you?

“I’m offering all of me,” he whispered to the shared air between you and him. “It might not be enough so I’ll be to work hard and do my best.”

What was he so earnest for? You hesitated, the edges to your hard demeanor softening. You didn’t want to trust stuff like this. It was so easy to get burned and you wanted to be the one to do the burning. And how could you trust people? Even you didn’t say everything out loud. Some things you could say and some you couldn’t say. It was too much trouble to believe in someone.

You had never received unburdened kindness when you were younger.

“We’re not on the same page.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “Aren’t we? But you’re reading me easily and I’m doing my best to learn about you too.”

Your shoulders released the tension. “Don’t pretend with me. It’s clear you’re a relationship kind of guy. And, while I’m not against them, I can’t deliver the same kind of devotion you are willing to give. Can’t you see that?” You removed your hand from his, not realizing it was still there.

His fingertip traced a line on the back of your hand.

Sparks raced along the base of your head.

You remained stern, feeling heavy and hot in your clothes.

“Why do you say that? You don’t think you’re loyal?” he asked very sincerely.

Your eyes narrowed. “Of course, I am. If I like you in that way and you asked me to bury a body, I’d already be digging the grave. But I’m not a flowers-and-chocolate kind of girl. That’s not how I show affection.”

You had no idea how far your clothes were in the cycle. The whole world could crash down and you would still be staring at Jungkook and his body language. His shoulders slouched a little more so he could look up at you with those pleading eyes.

Inhale still in your throat.

“Then, do you not like me?”

Say something.

But you didn’t say anything at all, gazing down at Jeon Jungkook and wondering why you couldn’t get through his thick skull that you were a bad decision. Honestly? Honestly, fine, it was because you grew up with parents that never liked each other nor their kids. Honestly, it was because you grew up too fast and with too much independence to not see the filthiness of the world. Honestly, it was because you saw the finicky innate nature of humanity of never devoting themselves to anything, much less anyone, and why would they?

People were crazy.

Call it personal experience.

You sighed.

“Jungkook, I’m not gonna lie to you. I fuck before I care about anybody. I’m only living to get my pleasure and not take care of anyone, okay? I’m barely keeping my own head together. I’m blunt. I don’t need or want romantic gestures. I just want dick. There. I’m not a good person.”

He was smiling.

Aw, shit.

“I must be favored to know you.”

You twitched, tucking your tongue in your cheek to avoid scowling, which was pretty much scowling anyway, so you failed spectacularly.

“Also, you haven’t said you don’t like me,” Jungkook pointed out. Infuriatingly. “Because it’s not true and you don’t lie. Right?” He said your name with a little too much sweetness and knowing.

You yanked your hand out of his and shoved his hard, muscular chest. He bounced back, grinning a little too happily. You told yourself to hate it and you didn’t. Fuck. “What are you even still doing here? Gonna fold my clothes for me or something?”

The energy at being offered a household chore was disturbing. “Oh! I can! I’m very good at doing laundry. And washing dishes. And cleaning. I like doing that stuff.”

“Sure, you do,” you puffed sarcastically,

“I do,” Jungkook insisted, coming around the table. “And I’m good at it.”

You scrutinized him up a down. “Yeah? Because you don’t know where else to put all that energy of yours?”

His lips parted but all he did was gawk at you. Oop. Right on the money. You were liking this expression a little too much. Maybe it was time to lower these walls a bit. After all, it didn’t seem like Jungkook was going to go away any time soon. He was pretty harmless anyway.

“I could drain you in a night,” you chuckled, smirking.

The tips of his ears were getting red at your lowered tone.

“You think you could keep up?”

thursday.

Ugh, it was one of those days that fuckin’ suuuucked.

Woke up late and had to rush to get dressed and bounce, then got to work and some shit was going down about missing documents and people moving papers they shouldn’t have, forcing you to play manager because everyone else had no goddamn spine to fix anything. This department would be a disaster without you. To top it all off, you had people stalling, keeping an irrelevant conversation going, leading you on a wild goose chase with no funny honking – turns out the documents were in some random copier right behind you, for fuck’s sake – and you had a very strong inkling it was because of what you looked like.

Which was fine.

Unless you were actually trying to do your job.

Then, one of your side dishes you had brought for lunch had gone off, so you ended up slightly less full than you wanted to be, and you forgot your jacket at work, leaving it hanging on the back of your chair in your rush to leave, and the train halted several stations before your stop because there was some emergency maintenance or some shit.

Fuckity fuck.

It wouldn’t be so annoying it if wasn’t so windy, but it was and you were wearing a sheer sweater with splashes of jewel-toned colors and a longline black sports bra under it – you had worn your jacket half-zipped until your boss had left in the middle of the day and your co-workers didn’t care how you looked, the dress code was stupid anyway – and black jeans, mid-rise. The rules were more about being covered up rather than being professionally dressed.

The job was primarily sitting at a desk and sorting documents, did it matter how you looked?

Or maybe you just broke the rules a little because you were a rebel.

Your stomach growled angrily and you told it to shut the fuck up.

You stood on the corner halfway between work and home, debating on whether or not to do some damage. The problem was you didn’t have any of the usual bad habits most people had. You didn’t drink, so getting stupid drunk and getting thrown out of the noraebang was out of the question. Also, you couldn’t sing. But, anyway, you barely took medicine, let alone know where or how to procure the illegal fun stuff, so that was also out. You didn’t have a sweet tooth either so you couldn’t down a whole cake with gusto, although that sounded like a great way to go.

You sulked.

You had an addiction, but you just stared at the names in your phone and felt guilty. Guilty! For what? For some guy you met literally less than four days ago? Ugh, no, this couldn’t be you right now. Seriously? Seriously? You crossed and stalked up the block, not yet deciding what to do so you kept walking until you figured it out during this internal battle. You had to keep this guy at a distance. Okay, yes, you could admit you liked him.

And that was the problem.

If you didn’t really like him, you could just fuck him and establish those hard boundaries. No issue. You had been in love before but that was a long time ago and ultimately you ended it because it wasn’t right and you weren’t good enough to be devoted to.

You breathed out hard, the unease spilling out of your insides.

It was definitely easier to not expect anything from anyone. You had spent a lot of life not having and, ultimately, not needing to rely on others, both out of necessity and simply having too much to work on by yourself. Years of fighting off bitterness that you had always tasted, years of letting go of important moments realizing that supposedly important people in your life would never be there for them, years of lashing out and becoming the shadow of the abuse you endured. Eye for an eye and all that. Keep the cycle going, until you had that moment in the eye of the storm to get hit by lightning and realize that this wasn’t right.

It wasn’t any particular thing.

Just finally accepting the creeping self-awareness that you had been miserable and were making other people miserable on purpose because you tore them open and took their hearts to find yours.

Metaphorically, duh.

So now you sort of did this martyr shit of being there for people when you could and not asking for anything back. Especially not a relationship. Intimate to heal a heart and then give it away, which totally worked if they weren’t into you, just into what you could do.

You didn’t really feel it yourself but you did get sex out of it.

Bad addiction, yeah.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket.

You ignored it.

Stepped into a chicken place and stood in line, feeling the weight of your world on your shoulders. You brain tried to reason with you that it was Jeon Jungkook’s own fault if he got hurt. He was the one who chose to spend all that time sitting at the laundromat with you talking about random shit. Your favorite video game – Persona 5, excelling in your top three most important things about a video game: music score, gameplay, and art style. Your favorite American rapper – Ludacris and the way he could rhyme the weirdest words. Your favorite movie genre – surrealist psychedelic drug movies, which earned you a confused head tilt. You had asked Jungkook what he liked. Mood lamps. Singing. Watching cooking videos on YouTube.

Had asked him if he believed in soulmates.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you ordered at the kiosk and paid.

You don’t think I could have met you in another life?

You stood with the other waiting patrons, ignoring everybody and your phone thrumming against your hip, thinking about last night.

I probably broke your heart.

Thinking about that smile with two piercings and a lip mole. That smile didn’t trust your answer at all.

Maybe the universe is giving me another chance to make up for my past mistakes. I can’t give up.

You made a face at past Jungkook’s answer, too taken aback all those hours ago to scowl properly. Maybe you had been too tired. Too worn down by his earnest nonsense to fight it properly at that moment. Your hand hovered over you hip, wondering if you should check it. Then dropped.

What, did you need to see him every day or something?

Your name was called and you stepped up to receive your order.

Oh, fuck, you miss him.

You yanked your phone out of your pocket and stared at it as you walked out of the restaurant, only to get plopped by a fat raindrop on the lit-up screen. You looked up to the gray sky and let out a hiss.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

You turned around and sat down, grumbling as rain poured down and you replied to Jungkook’s texts.

Stupid.

Not him. Just you.

friday.

“What are you trying so hard for?” you snapped.

“Why aren’t you trying hard enough?” Jeon Jungkook shot back.

It was going really well.

Clearly.

You let out a hiss and flicked your hands as if you were trying to physically get rid of his reply. Argh, this… man! The thundering rain was pouring down, down, and you were both standing under a bus stop with no intention of taking the bus. You bit back the volume of your sudden anger. There was no need to yell anyway. No one was coming out in the thick of this monsoon.

Only you and crazy-ass Jeon Jungkook.

Switched tactics. "And what makes you think your virgin ass–"

"I'm not a virgin!"

"You are here!"

And you jammed two fingers into that very muscular chest, right next to the left side of his sternum. Too fast to be stopped. The shove actually made him stumble. Or maybe it was the utter shock of the verbal and physical double jab combined with the deep growl that your voice had suddenly become. His racer jacket and black hair were slick with rain. Half of his white t-shirt soaked. Even the front of his blue jeans drenched.

You panted hard after your outburst, the anger draining away all in a flash of lightning.

Jungkook stared at you with stricken eyes.

The rain pelted down, down, beating into the silence.

“How did you know?” he breathed out.

You didn’t but somehow you did, feeling something inside of you break. Not afraid of the world. Never, never again. No, afraid of what you could do, afraid of breaking something this pure, because you broke your first love too and that past guilt still lingered. Not that you thought Jungkook loved you. He couldn’t This was only the fifth day of him knowing you.

The fuck is going on?

“I see your type all the time,” you sighed, your damp hair all over your face. “Looking for light in black holes instead of stars.” The rain had slipped off your black leather jacket. Your cropped band shirt wasn’t wet, but your black cargo pants were sodden knees down.

This coldness, however, didn’t come from the rain.

“You really should stop. For your own good.”

You looked away from him, feeling as if your own words had pierced bullet holes into your walls. Dark sky, never-ending rain, cars struggling to drive, people running with umbrellas and ponchos, arms huddled close to their bodies, and here you were just standing here in the rain, the world acting out your mind. How nice. You thought you had come to terms with everything, but obviously not. Somehow once you saw Jungkook again, once you felt his presence again, the pull was even stronger and the storm was even more intense and the worst part was that you didn’t want to leave.

You heard Jungkook’s soft, silvery voice through the gray rain.

“Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?”

You turned your head to look into those pleading brown eyes.

Lightning shot across the sky.

Thunder followed seconds after, eating up the night.

“W… What?”

He shook his head, dripping water.

“You haven’t hurt me. You don’t mean to, either.”

That smile, his hand extended, the inked snake on his wrist showing.

You stared at Jeon Jungkook with droplets beading on your skin but those goosebumps weren’t from the weather. Jerked your head away. What is with this gentleness? How could he know anything? He couldn’t know anything. He was just an airhead who watched too many dramas and made others believe that they could be real.

“Noona?”

You whipped your head to Jungkook, shocked at his use of the honorific. He only used it when Jimin was at the meal. Afterwards, the conversations had been clearly directed at you. Not completely informal speech, but sometimes you slipped and he did too. You never corrected him because, well.

You slapped his hand away.

Nothing was going to happen.

You closed the distance and grabbed his head, pressing your lips to his shaking ones.

It was going to be terrible. Cold. Wet. Acidic from the lingering feelings. There was no way that this kiss could be anything else with this setting.

This was real life.

Not a story.

Your hands cupped his cheeks and you sunk into his kiss. The hard edge of his jewelry and the softness of his breath, caught by your mouth, your eyes already screwed shut, nothing to do but feel, feel the way he instantly pressed back and set his hands on your elbows, pulling you closer, shuddering as your forearms pressed to his chest. A weird feeling, like two fires melting together, prickling racing across your skin, no, deeper, past your ribs and into your heart.

The storm raged on.

You snapped out of the kiss, nose to nose, water trickling in places it shouldn’t, over your eyelashes and down your neck, feeling fingers graze across your elbows. Slipping under the leather. Droplets soaking into your shirt and then warm hands lingering at the curve of your exposed waist.

Tracing your lines.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

And you kissed Jeon Jungkook again.

saturday.

No, you didn’t take him home. You’re reckless, yeah.

But you knew how that would go.

Not that Jungkook didn’t try. Maybe you would have done it, if you weren’t the equivalent of wet cat and equally torrenting emotions. His hands around your waist, pulling you closer, heat blossoming between layers of rain-drenched clothing, kiss after kiss, your hands in his hair, tangling those dark waves into wilderness, getting more and more breathless, heady with a feeling you knew but didn’t want to believe in.

For someone who hated lying, you sure enjoyed lying to yourself.

You had reasons.

How could this time be different if it was just following the same trajectory that you always followed?

You had to pry yourself from him, lips tingling, tongue curling, feeling your blood course through your veins and your heartbeat as loud as thunder, opening your eyes to his blissed-out expression, his own eyes still closed, pressing his lips together to savor your taste.

Damn.

You had wanted to tell him to stop it, stop it with all this falling, you were being dragged down by his vibe, clothes feeling heavy, desperate to be stripped away, but you kept your hands along the sides of his head, your exhale escaping but giving you away like a bad con artist.

Those shimmering dark eyes had opened, following Jungkook’s smile.

“You’re a great kisser, noona.”

His hands stayed on your waist, drumming his fingertips on your skin, tangible kisses creating invisible but no less real electricity.

You scoffed, corner of your lips rising.

“Shut up.”

Tendrils of his black-brown hair clung to his forehead. The rain drummed but it had lessened a bit. You had looked back to his eyes, defeated.

“Shut up so I don’t miss you more.”

One last, drawn-out kiss, tongue to tongue and you had broken from him, warning him sternly.

“Don’t follow me.”

Ran all the way home, face burning, not even feeling the rain even though it was still falling.

Now, present time, you sat at this boring farewell party in some fancy hotel with the sun blaring outside. Figures the nice weather would come out when you would have to stuff yourself in a fitted blazer dress and pretend to care about your boss’s boss retiring. Black, of course. For the formal occasion. Sadly, no one was dying except this old coot’s career.

Maybe you were a little salty that you couldn’t retire yet.

You looked down at your phone, which was on silent, noticing you had a new message.

ㅎ.ㅎ

O… Okay. Whatever that face was supposed to mean. You didn’t even bother to answer. Couldn’t, anyway, forced to plaster on a mildly interested expression as your boss gave a speech that you zoned out of. There were multiple large circular tables in the hotel ballroom. Outside the ballroom was an outdoor area with the buffet. Everyone had served themselves before sitting down, but, first, a few words.

A few was turning out to be too many and your salmon was getting cold.

Employees had been allowed to bring plus ones. Wives and husbands. There were a few empty seats, and a few significant others popped in mid-speech, trying to be quiet and politely bowing in apology. Of course, they weren’t required to be on time, having other obligations and such.

You twitched.

Was that why this was dragging on? So everyone could eat at once? For fuck’s sake, who cared if they were late. Then you noticed your boss’s wife stepping in, looking pretty and put-together in a forest green high-necked dress, holding the small hand of a kid in a lopsided children’s tuxedo with an equally confused expression.

Oh.

Come on.

You suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force.

“Excuse me. Sorry, sorry.”

You whipped your head around to see Jeon Jungkook in a black pinstripe suit cha-cha sliding in the empty chair next to you, picking up your black velvet purse and holding it out to you with a grin that made his large, dark brown eyes light up.

You gawked at him.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late.” He added your name politely and with affection, smooth as butter, criminal undercover. Even the honorific, oh, shit.

The blood drained out of your face and you tried not to think about how your co-workers sitting at the table were staring at you and him like you both had three heads. Of course, no one was supposed to be talking, so no one asked questions yet, but that was definitely going to start the second your boss was finished with his sentence.

You took your purse without another word and glared at Jungkook with such fire that you hoped he burned alive at the spot. Oh, this could turn into a murder and a funeral real fucking fast. All he did was give you those shining big peepers that made you want to strangle him. In an unsexy way.

For now.

You leaned over as the clapping started. He caught on and delicately leaned over, offering his ear to your lips.

“The fuck are you doing?”

Jungkook turned his head so only you could hear his whisper.

“I was nearby, so I figured…?”

You stared at him, plumb slack-jawed at this audacity.

He closed the distance and gently kissed your cheek. You ticked your head almost robotically, piercing eyes following his playful ones, and now you wondered if Jeon Jungkook was truly not right in the head or perfect for you.

Well.

You weren’t right in the head either.

You did text him earlier this morning that you needed to come to this party at this hotel to send off this important retiree. If you missed this, then it would have reflected poorly on you, especially when you wanted to keep your job, so, yes, it was part of the reason why you had not attempted to convince Jungkook to sleep over – not that he needed any convincing whatsoever – and the other reason was to get enough sleep so you could tolerate socializing. Did you think Jungkook was gonna finesse his way into the seat next to you? Hell no. Did you think he was gonna dress smartly and with his black hair parted neatly in the center, fuckin’ black tie pressed and collar pinned? Fuck, no.

Did you think you would like it?

No!

“How did you get them to let you in?” you hissed under your breath.

Jungkook was clapping like a seal because everyone else was. A champagne bottle was being popped. He looked systematically impressed and awed. Amazing acting. “I just said I was with you.” Glanced at you and grinned, the silver piercings on his lip gleaming. A hoop and a stud. “Aren’t I, noona?”

The urge to growl at him to shut the fuck up was silenced by your brain reminding you to be safe-for-work.

You felt a poke at your sleeve. Your co-worker sitting at your left, bleach-blond and with the curiosity of a child. Full of sudden comments and questions too, just like a kid.

“Oh, oh! You never mentioned anything about a boyfriend!” Because you didn’t have one until right now, apparently. “So handsome!” Yes, he was. You had taste. “How did you meet?” Circumstances beyond your control.

“Through a… friend.”

That was a very generous word for instigator Park Jimin.

Jungkook poked his head past you and waved. “Hi! Nice to meet you.” He was using you as a shield to avoid directly interacting with these people he didn’t know. Just chiming in with polite nods as you introduced him to the table and sitting back to let you have this uninvited spotlight that was burning you like the sun did to vampires.

Pretty close, in all honesty.

“Aw, what a sweet guy. It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t think your type was so young and cute.”

You almost made a face of distaste. “You thought my type was old and ugly?” Oop, there goes your sharp tongue.

“Nooo.” You tried not to flinch at the playful slap of your arm. “More mature, maybe? But this is better. You don’t have to be so serious. Look at his smile! I bet that’s what drew you in.”

You glanced at Jungkook and he appropriately smiled big at the right time. Somehow, he had obtained a plate of steak. How, you didn’t care. You narrowed your eyes just a sliver. Jungkook did not stop smiling but there was at least an iota of fear in those big brown eyes. Speaking of vampire, maybe you should suck the life out of him because he was being too fuckin’ much.

“Well, he was persistent to put it lightly. Might as well give him the chance to win me over.”

Jungkook beamed like a billion-kilowatt lightbulb. Or a crystal chandelier. It depended if you wanted to say the light came from his white teeth or sparkling eyeballs.

Fuckity fuck.

You wanted to rub your temples but refrained.

You would never recover from this.

“Are you mad at me?” Jungkook asked you later.

Oh, now he wondered if you’re mad. You didn’t even look at him, dragging him away from the crowd by the elbow. Hopefully you had stayed long enough but there had been so many of the same questions that you were either getting dizzy or murderous. Hm. Why not both?

“I’m not mad at you,” you muttered.

“You kinda sound mad.”

“I’m not mad but I’m gonna get mad if you keep saying I am,” you warned. “Don’t start a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

“A what?”

“Where did you park?”

His voice became small even though he was right next to you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

The sun was blaring down on the open parking lot, it was annoyingly humid, you were socially drained, and this, not this. You spun abruptly, too much crashing down too fast, flinging Jungkook’s arm from you.

“No,” you hissed out. “No. Don’t you dare take it back. You wanna be crazy and drive me crazy, fine, do it, keep doing it, don’t stop, but own up. I’ve got enough push-and-pull jammed into my head and I don’t need you adding to it.”

It was so easy to simply give in to the rising anger, but you found yourself locked into Jungkook’s wide, taken-back eyes, drowning in them, deeper than the ocean, seeing how rueful he was.

“Don’t do that to me,” you sighed.

At least your voice didn’t crack. You didn’t want to be angry anyway.

You raised your hand to cup his cheek but paused, not knowing anymore what was what. Always been so sure until the world started getting flipped upside down by Jeon Jungkook. You always knew all of the things to do to make someone interested, all the things to say to make them swoon, and now you didn’t know anything at all because this guy showed up and jumped right in, not even caring about the damages, the fine print, or the past that lingered.

Why are you blaming yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened yet?

Jungkook leaned forward and completed the curve of his cheek into your hollow palm, now looking at you eye-to-eye with a curious expression.

The corner of your lips curved upwards.

You leaned forward, saying your next words very seriously.

“You. Are. Crazy.”

sunday.

You sat against the window, waiting for the document to print out.

No one was in the office. You had rolled over here out of sheer boredom, looking up at the gray-blue sky and watching shafts of sunlight phase in and out. Overtime to prepare documents for Monday. You hadn’t bothered to follow dress code, but there was a breeze today, so you wore brown plaid trousers and an old vintage t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. The faded album cover of Papa Roach’s Infest. Your oversized black leather jacket was on the back of your office chair once again.

You spun in your chair, the print job long done.

Thought back on the week.

Day one, awkward dinner and the start of a rollercoaster.

Day two, clutching your phone and waiting for replies due to the spotty service of the subway.

Day three, washing machines and dryers and long conversations.

Day four, shitty day with a nice ending to more texts. Better service too.

Day five, cold rain and warm lips.

Day six, surprise! You have a boyfriend and everybody knows!

You got up and wandered to the copier. Stacked everything up and clipped the right parts together, setting it on your boss’s desk. Glanced at the time at your computer. The blank screensaver abruptly appeared, showing you your blurred reflection.

Your fingertips lingered on your chest, the soft, worn fabric of the shirt reminding you of night after tumultuous night of the past. Time that made you, you. Scars you made by holding on too tightly to pain others gave you. The thought of scars in others that you started and they held on to. Repenting, in a way, healing the hearts that came in your path with intimacy and the passion you were afraid to show Jeon Jungkook because what if, what if…

What if it actually matched well?

“You,” Park Jimin had said to you months ago, “You need someone who thinks of you as their whole world.”

“I don’t want that.”

“You don’t want it. But you need it.”

You didn’t have Park-Jimin-being-right on this year’s bingo card, fuck.

You clocked out and collected your stuff, turning off the lights as you left the office, black boots the only solid sound around you, pulling out your phone to check the address one more time.

“Why are you wearing clothes?” you asked accusingly.

“Um…?”

You gripped the sides of the denim jacket and yanked it off his shoulders, pinning Jeon Jungkook’s arms to his sides. He immediately yelped but you silenced him by stepping through the door and pulling him to you by the button placket, tracing the edge of his open lips with your tongue.

“W-Wait, noona, the d-door…”

“I don’t care.”

Kissed him, deeply.

That now familiar scent, closer, slipping your tongue between his lips, succumbing to the flutters. In, out, feeling him collapse under you and moan in his throat, hard body stumbling into yours, hand haphazardly smacking the edge of the door.

It closed behind you.

You rolled your body into his, closer than close with too many layers in between, tangling his arms in his own jacket, swallowing his gasp and feeling him wiggle determinedly to free his hands and then they were on your face, strong fingers fanning out over your jaw, his jacket falling to the floor, hungrily following your tongue and lips with his own.

Something addicting about the addition of metal to those soft mouth.

This was your forte, the ability to make fantasies come true, and you took it seriously, throwing your bag onto the table by the door and shedding the protective layer of leather. Pressed chest to chest, holding his head and tracing his lips, slow fucking them, running your fingertips over the curve of his ears and making him shiver, noting the three hoops along his left ear.

Pressed your hands down his chest, over the smooth ribbed white tank molding to his muscular torso, down, down, kissing past his lips, to that mole underneath, down his chin, his head tipping back, your name drifting above your head as you kissed down his neck, the sharp clean scent of his cologne getting stronger.

“I thought… we were… o-oh, g-going out…”

“I’m gonna fuck you,” you breathed into his collarbones, hot and low, nicking his skin with your teeth and making him shiver. “Right now. Tonight. Maybe tomorrow too.” Undid the button of his jeans with some effort, yanking him towards you again and molding your hips to his, thighs to hard thighs, and that stiffness wasn’t only a sturdy zipper. “Tuesday as well. Fuck it.”

“The whole week,” Jungkook gasped as you unzipped his charcoal jeans.

“Yeah, good, you’re keeping up,” you murmured and grabbed his head again, catching a fistful of his black hair, kissing him hard with your other palm pressed to his hardness. Your tongue tracing the edge of his lips, breathing into his mouth and swallowing Jungkook’s wanton moan, intoxicated by the moment.

You pulled back just to yank your shirt over your head, tossing it to the floor.

It took longer for it to float down than for you to get on your knees.

“Woah…!”

Hooked your fingers on the elastic waistband of his Calvin Kleins and tugged them down, exhaling over that thick length that popped out. He smelled clean, like he had just showered, and you half-smiled, approving, closing the distance to curl your tongue around hard taut skin.

“Ooooh… fuuuuuuuck…”

Tightly taking control, using only your tongue to scoop around his girth and flick against his balls. Kisses, licks, flutters of breath, all of it, sensation after sensation, layering on the heat, adding sweetness to the obscene, his twitching cock hitting your cheek as you pressed kisses to his balls.

“Let me show you something,” you hummed and swallowed his pride.

Jungkook gasped so loud that his hands shot up to his mouth, fingers laced over his moan, one inked arm and one tan one, tilting his head back as your lips closed around him, softly, your tongue cupping the head, caressing the underside, the slit, letting him throb against wet muscle. Pushed him up to the roof of your mouth and slowly, in and out, rubbing the base of the head against your lips every time you ascended, fanning your fingers over his crotch to hold the base and cup his balls in between your index and thumb. Steady and consistent, sucking him off with deliberate precision.

You had a lot of fancy skills to show off but, for this first time, might as well give him the stripped-down version.

Heh.

So you blew Jungkook at his front door in your bra and pants with his clothes half-on and struggling to breathe.

“A-Ah, so s-soft… and so tight… h-how…”

You didn’t speed up. Didn’t put in more force. Used your whole torso, not just your head and neck, to avoid strain, holding his hips to take him deeper but at the same pace, letting the orgasm build with his heart rate, running your thumbs over his balls, a gentle caress, closing your eyes to savor it. Hard and twitching, but you didn’t let him disturb what you had going on, extending out the minutes, saturating every second with flowing, unavoidable bliss.

What?

You could match his vibe with your kind of romance.

You heard Jungkook’s pitch hike and the muscles under your fingers all tensed up. You spared a look upwards, but he wasn’t looking at you, shoving his hands into his messy black hair, displaying his prominent triceps, and moaning to the ceiling, dragging his bangs over his eyes.

“Oh my God, I’m cumming, fuuuuck…!”

You pillowed your tongue around the head and his salty orgasm flooded your mouth, spilling out and down your throat, but you cupped what you could and coated the sensitive head, pleased to hear Jungkook’s shudder and whimper of ecstasy, gripping his hair and pulling. The close-fitted nature of his tank top left nothing to the imagination, the aftershock rippling up his chest, even his hardened nipples poking against the fabric.

You swallowed.

Jungkook moaned and his head fell back again, his eyes probably rolled back.

Gotta finish him off right.

You licked around him carefully, cleaning him off and keeping him hard.

“You…”

Cocked an eyebrow as you shifted your eyes up, his cock buried in your throat, pulsing your muscles around his length. His chin was on his chest, wayward dark curls hanging down, shaking wide eyes watching you with fascination, his shaking voice full of awe.

“You know… how porn calls it a mouth-pussy? I really thought that shit was fake and sounded stupid, but… you have a mouth-pussy.”

You blinked at him and tried not to snort out in laughter.

You just raised both eyebrows and flicked his balls with your tongue. A few seconds later, you pulled back and countered with, “Really? Mouth-pussy? That’s how you show gratitude for the best suck of your life?”

“B-But it’s true!”

You shook you head and waved a hand at him.

“Clothes. Off.”

Every hour, every minute, every second.

Full of sex.

Jungkook wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a virgin. He was a little too good at fingering to be a virgin. Well, you hadn’t had his dick yet but it was pretty obvious with the slow circles on your clit and the kissing of your collarbones. Clothes didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Most of them were left by the door. Your shoulder blades and ass touching the bed, his other hand along your back and tracing your spine as he kissed across your breasts, shyly shifting his gaze back to your face to constantly check if you were enjoying it, not quite confident that he was making your heart flutter. You smirked back at him, taking his hand and pressing his fingers to your wet slit, pushing them in yourself.

He breathed out with you, watching your face as the pleasure snaked out from your core.

Two of them, taking it slow, but you shook your head and pressed his down, your hard nipple against his lips, and he followed your lead, faster, harder, your inner walls clenching around him, sighing deeply as the pleasure flowed, soft licks and tracing tongue. You let him have it, the slower, more romantic pace, spreading your fingers over his sheets and thrusting into his hand, adding to the pleasure, and Jungkook’s eyes glittered, kissing from one nipple to another with a smile.

“Harder?”

“And faster,” you agreed, licking the air between you and him.

Hey, you weren’t a virgin either and you liked it rough.

He kissed you first, entranced by your tongue, harder, faster, your hips following his hand, entangled in this beat, and then it was back to your nipples, kissing sucking, sparks of sensuality over your skin, your hands diving into his hair. Heat. Roughness. Passion, catching your breath and your head falling back, inhaling his scent and the clean sheets, the orgasm flooding through you, delicately forming his name with your lips.

“Ah, Jungkook…”

You didn’t let it stop there though.

His hand moved to pull out and you clutched his wrist and pushed him back in, your nail catching his ring finger, collecting it too, gasping at the added fullness, and you pulled his left hand out from under your back.

Jungkook watched you curiously as your rode his right hand and turned his left, thumb down.

You fitted it around your neck and positioned it correctly, grinning devilishly at him.

He got the hint.

Slightly unsure at first but you built his confidence, comfortably laying back on his bed and spreading out your fingers, moaning softly for him, rocking your hips into his hand, climbing to the high again, stronger his time. His fingers pressed inwards and you breathed out, savoring the choking, the way time slowed down, the way the sensations heightened, your spine arching, low gasp like heavy smoke, immortalizing the moment in his memory, black pupils blown out in those beautiful dark eyes, leaning forward to run his tongue over your nipples.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, thrusting into his fingers harder.

Lids heavy, drowning in the pleasure, his tongue, his hands, the way he looked at you like you were his whole world, the tension between you and him, sweet and intense and overwhelming, just perfect, your exhale only a thin wisp now, closing your eyes and moaning to the ceiling as you came.

It was a hard, thundering pulse, much more powerful than before, your shivering pussy gripping his fingers and your hips bucking. Thighs snapping closed, whining as you felt the hardness of his tattooed forearm, your head snapping to the side the second he released you, the rushing blood knocking you down and making your nerves sing, strong flinches across your arms and torso. Gasping to catch your breath.

Wasn’t his first time choking, but maybe the first time he got really turned on by it, because Jungkook was ogling you like a three-star Michelin meal.

It was like that all night.

From the first time he entered you, one condom wrapper the start of many, biting the left side of his lip and shuddering – “H-How are you so tight…? I just f-fingered you – oooh!” – and you wrapped around him tightly, smirking a little too smugly, one arm around his neck and one leg on his shoulder. Your fingers petaled around the base of his head, cupping him in the flower of your touch. Your thigh against his hard chest still trembling from your kisses. You angled your hips and he slipped in deeper, groaning in disbelief, his brows furrowing at you.

“H-Hey!”

Your tongue pocketed in the side of your smirk and you fucked him right.

“Gah!”

Jungkook, too, fucked you right.

You lead the pace so he could bring the force of his hips. Ah, fuck, right there, like that, and you let him know, the cries tumbling out and mixing with his, rushing wave after wave pressing into you, filling you with his girth and his power. You brought the intensity, the flint to his flame, the break in his pride and Jungkook was looking down at you, shoulders flexed, jaw tight and eyes hazy, clear emotion swirling within them and you saw your own gaze fixated on him, wanting him more than you wanted the sex.

Oh.

Shit.

You gasped and dug your nails into his scalp, grasping the pillow and throwing your head back, not expecting the suddenness of your high, injected into your heartbeat and pushing all the air out of your lungs, veins ablaze with heat as your core clenched, inner walls throbbing all around him. Jungkook groaned, biting his lower lip and thrusting hard, the small mole underneath shaking just as hard as his shoulders, but he couldn’t hold back any longer, squeezing his eyes shut, muffled scream as he came, his head falling back, two tones the start of an ongoing, wanton melody.

“Holy… fuck…”

Well, more like unholy fuck but you didn’t correct him.

You kind of expected him to pull out and leave, but instead his head snapped back and he dived down, catching your lips and dripping sweat on you, making you both laugh. Kiss after kiss, all over your face, and you could barely sputter out – “Oi, you’re sweaty!” – but he didn’t care, kissing all over your cheeks and down your neck, your chest, slurping at your nipples, you narrowed your eyes at that but those playful eyes just sparkled with deviousness, trailing down, down.

Slowing.

Jungkook pressed his lips to your waist, looking up at you.

Your heart thundered against your chest and sparks danced over your skin.

Somehow at ease.

“What?”

You smiled down at him.

“I don’t ever want to leave your side.”

Your lips parted to give him a snappy comeback, yeah, well, I gotta go to work, but nothing came out.

Jungkook grinned, his whole face lighting up and dove between your legs, biting and kissing the inside of your thighs, attacking them with his menacing mouth.

“Hey! Oi! I’m sensitive, f-fuck!”

Even planting a fat wet kiss on your clit for good measure.

“Ah!”

Shoving his tongue in your pussy.

“YO!”

You gawked at his audacity, twisting away from him. Infuriatingly, he followed, scrambling for your ass.

“There was just a condom in there!”

“Ah, who cares,” said the one that clearly didn’t. “Kiss me.”

“Hell no!”

After cleaning up and pinning him down on his own bed and thoroughly scolding him, somehow you ended up making out with Jungkook and his fingers were in your pussy again. It sounded very wet and squishy down there, probably because you showed Jungkook just now much you liked kisses under your earlobe. His tongue against your skin, teeth nicking, sucking hard and making you moan and grind on his hand, pressing against his chest.

“Sit on my face,” he whispered in your ear.

Which was know you ended up grasping his headboard and his tongue between your legs, the piercing pressed against the left side of the outer lips. You kept your weight on your knees, but Jungkook grabbed your ass and tipped your hips at a different angle, your clit right on his tongue, his nose against your crotch.

“Fuuuuck, you smell so good…”

You could barely hear him but you felt him speak, gasping at the strange sensation of hot breath and swiping tongue, his lips wrapping around your most sensitive nerves. He had a much softer tongue, but there was consistency there and plenty of gusto. It helped, actually, to have his hands gripping your thighs, adding the amplifying pleasure of restraint. You rode his face, matching the movement of his tongue. One of your hands left the headboard. Trapped your nipples between your fingers and pulled at them, making Jungkook’s eyes go wide and watch eagerly, licking and sucking harder.

Layered and intricate, full of sensation and emotion, gazing down at him and smirking as the sparks turned into lightning and you soaked his face, shivering, tipping forward at the flinches of climax, swearing under your thin breath, panting, snapped tension draining you and wetly sticking to his lips, his tongue, his cheeks.

He shoved his tongue into your quivering pussy and you sucked in a breath, feeling your inner walls pulsate around his curling muscle, his low, gravelly moan filling what little air there was between his mouth and you, his satisfaction vibrating through your body and mixing with your afterglow.

You slid down his chest and kissed him again, tasting your subtle sweet-sour on his slick lips.

He wanted you to jack him off hard and fast, the fingers of your other hand splayed out over his chest, forgetting about anything else, time only a construct, your phones discarded by the door, and here, in this bed, there was only Jungkook and you, his cock pulsing in your grip, your foxy expression to his desperate one, his eyes rolling back in the intensity, biting down hard on the left side of his lip, the small mole underneath shaking in anticipation, the tendons of his neck popping out.

You raised your free hand and gently stroked his cheek with your knuckle as you punished his cock.

His lower lip popped out of his mouth and he groaned, rough and breathless.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

A hot stream of liquid dripping down the back of your hand, drenching you and him in the strong scent of sex. Thick and potent, and you leaned forward and kissed him deeply, tightly holding his jerking cock and squeezing it all out of him.

“You’re amazing,” Jungkook panted, even after getting up – once again – to attempt to clean up your collective mess.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sitting beside him. He was radiating heat. “I was never worried about that.”

“Hah… You’re… You’re crazy…”

You had obtained your phone and just now sent a message to your boss that you would be taking a sick day on Monday. You have plenty of those. “Speak for yourself.”

“I mean, you’re like… um… uh, oh! A semen demon…”

“What?”

You almost threw your phone in laughter. Actually, you couldn’t even hear Jungkook’s explanation for what the hell he meant by semen demon because you were laughing too hard, barely able to breathe. There wasn’t a normal explanation anyway – how could there be? – and you kept inelegantly snorting afterward at inappropriate times. Jungkook, for his part, seemed proud for making you laugh so much.

“You look so beautiful laughing.”

Your response was quick, immediate, and lighthearted.

“Shut up.”

He snuggled his still too warm head into the crook of your shoulder.

“Will you stay?”

You gave him a look and then showed him the sent text message on your phone. There was something special and perfect about the smile that lit up his face, clearly showing his devotion and clearly seeing yours.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Jungkook skipped work too. Both of you ended up sleeping in.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x noona #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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schoenpepper · 1 month

Text

Intro: You choose the correct answer. Obviously.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, photos aren't mine, too much simping, swear words, google translated German, does Vil in a dress offend you? then go fuck urself

A/N: My love my darling my sweetheart my cutie pie babygirl dearie honey my honeybunch sugarplum pumpyumpykin sweetiepie cuppycake snookums ookums my dommy mommy queen dominatrix babygirl please step on me please degrade me hurt me berate me love me adore me drive your six inch stilettos through my guts and kiss me

Masterlist

Your fingers toy with the item on your palm. A delicate gold ring with leaf motifs and small diamonds, a round purple crystal in the middle. You're not too sure what it is, but it reminds you of his eyes: sparkling and bright, bringing their own shimmer wherever they reach. It's breathtaking. He's breathtaking. You haven't even seen him yet, and you already know he'll be stunning.

It's a little nerve-wracking.

Vil Schoenheit is always at the center of attention.

(At the very least, he'll always be the center of yours.)

You look out the window of the carriage in an attempt to distract yourself from your own thoughts. The trees lining the path seem to stretch upward as they yearn for the sun. The wildflowers are slowly wilting with the oncoming blaze of summer heat. You catch a glimpse of a creature lurking in the depths of the forest, waiting for its chance to strike.

(He's still in your head.)

The coachman opens the door for you and helps you step off the carriage before riding away, leaving you to marvel alone at the marble steps that lead to your destination. If you enter now, can you say with full confidence that the shining star, that beautiful prince of the Elven Empire, is your date? Will they assume that you meant it in a friendly sense? Even you don't have the answers to those questions. Whether or not he thinks of you as a friend isn't important to you; what matters is whether or not he sees you as something more. Maybe you'll get your answer tonight. Maybe you won't.

But you'll take the chance.

You have to.

The party's just starting to fill up when you arrive, yet too many people that you don't know are around you. None of your friends are here yet. It's the moment of quiet you've been looking for. Maybe, in the middle of all these strangers, you can finally think. Alone. Crystal chandeliers reflect rainbow light onto marble tiles, while colorful flowers are held inside glass vases, perched onto tables and pedestals every few steps. The music is yet to unfold into a glorious symphony, missing a few instruments to complete its melody. Your steps are drowned out in the sea of people as you walk yourself into a corner. Think, then.

Where is he?

Again, you are consumed by memories of lavender-tipped blond hair and lilac eyes, of fair and flawless skin, and everything that's him. Your eyes are always searching for him, skin always yearning for his touch.

(Gods, aren't you just pathetic?)

Your query is answered today through a series of quiet gasps and heads turning in a specific direction. You walk back to the center of the ballroom to see if it's him (of course it is; would anyone else be so blinding?).

Pure black silk is draped over his lean figure like a waterfall, reflecting a midnight sky in its satiny shine, with black chiffon sleeves billowing like a cape over his shoulders. A gold belt, carved like crawling vines, cinches his waist and matches the gold wreath that sat atop his hair. Long legs and shiny gold stilettos peek out from the high slit on his dress; a chunky gold collar-style necklace sits pretty on his collarbones; a gold vine bangle climbs from one shoulder down just above his elbow; and chunky gold hoops are clipped on his pointed ears. When Vil's eyes meet yours, you almost fall to the ground. The dark winged eyeshadow and metallic gold eyeliner, the matte black lipstick, and the gold patterns drawn on his cheek that signifies his status as elven royalty—

Breathe.

ohgodsohfuckohshitohwhatthehell—

You're forced to avert your gaze as you bring your hands up to cup your warm cheeks. He looks like divinity incarnate, and it's driving you just a little crazy.

"Y/N."

Okay. It's driving you very crazy.

"Senpai." You hate that your voice is so quiet and meek, and you just know you look like a tomato right now. A quick glance at other people confirms that you're not the only one killed by his charm, so there's that for consolation, at least. "You look beautiful tonight." It's an understatement, but you can neither look at him right now nor conjure any words more fitting for the vision. You deal with what you can.

"Oh, are you shy?" Vil chuckles as he tilts your chin up with one manicured finger. "Look at me. It would be a waste of all my efforts if my date refused to even look me in the eye." You notice he's wearing a ring, just a simple band, but with a familiar purple stone embedded into it. When you look into his eyes, however, your brain activity reverts back to that of a neanderthal.

"Do you think I'm beautiful?"

You nod.

"Are you glad you chose me as your date?"

You nod again.

"Would you like a kiss?"

You no—wait, um, fuck, what?!

Soft lips press onto yours for an annoyingly short kiss. Just a peck, really. It's enough to scramble your mind and get you to blue screen, though. "There we are, potato. My, you look disgraceful." He rubs off the small smudge of lipstick from the corner of your mouth. "Did you not choose a smudge-proof product? You should have; it's always best to be prepared."

Prepared for what???

"Senpai, um, would you like to dance...?" Good job; you've managed to stutter out a near-coherent invitation.

Vil leads the waltz because you're not feeling too great right now. Looking into his eyes makes you accidentally step on his dress, looking at his heels makes you distracted by the way the fabric sways to show his legs, and not looking at your partner makes you unable to dance correctly. In short, you manage to make an utter fool of yourself in a three-minute dance that's taught even to four-year-olds. In your defense, you truly believe anyone dancing with a partner like this would be in the exact same situation as you. "Hm, perhaps we should take a break by the buffet table. Would drinking some water clear your head?" You follow him and thank him when he hands you a glass of water.

He's hot, fine, whatever. But why does he need to be kind and considerate too? Does he really want everyone to fall for him?!

You know your thoughts are stupid and unfair on his part. You take another sip of your water and try to look at him again. It's okay; the three minutes of dancing have desensitized you already. Really. "Is something on my face, dear?" And your eyes are back to the glass of water.

He called me dear! What the fuck?!

"After you've finished, perhaps we can go for a stroll in the gardens? I think we'd both enjoy a quiet moment together, mein liebe."

You take a deep breath.

May whatever deity that wasn't defeated in the wars millennia ago hear your plea and give you mercy

Try Again?

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #gender neutral reader #x reader #twst x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit

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monstersandmaw · 3 months

Text

I can't believe this story is 14.5k words long. These monthly stories are only supposed to be about 2-3k words long, but hey.

It's still June, just... I'm so sorry this didn't appear sooner, but it's a whopping 14.5k words long, so hopefully that makes up for it!

Content: at the end of their first year at the Royal Academy for the Magical Arts, the young, entitled son of the wealthiest family on the continent is partnered for an assignment with a diligent reader from a very humble background, and makes a very poor choice. Years later, after finishing their masters, the reader finds themself having to work with him again, only to find he's not quite as they remember this time around. Also featuring a naga bestie, adoptive dads, a badass dwarven professor, and a chunky cameo from the orc mage, Orrakh from a short story on Tumblr.

(Light spoilers) content warning: reader is drugged to render them unconscious, but nothing untoward happens while they're out, and it's facilitated by their friend. Nsfw: reader gives a blowjob in a sort of semi-public place, and receives oral in return back in private.

Wordcount: 14,565

Extract:

Ambient magicka crackled and coalesced around you, becoming little flashes of light in the air as you strode down the navy blue corridor of the astronomy wing where you’d met your friend. “I worked my ass off for that placement, Alana, and I am not going to let some gilded turd buy his way in beside me and turn it into a farce!”

The naga’s thick, serpentine tail carved a wide swathe through the other student mages as she struggled to keep up with you, until she finally grabbed at the sleeve of your dark robe and yanked you around to face her.

“Take a breath, honey,” she said, pushing her circular, gold-rimmed glasses back up her nose and blinking moss-green eyes at you from her pretty, round face with all its myriad freckles. “From what you’ve told me, Rune is a first class shit, but you’re going to have to work with him.”

“He’s not just a shit, Alana,” you fired back through gritted teeth, aware that you were drawing a bit of an audience beneath the painted vaults of the long corridor. “He’s a rich shit who thinks he can throw money at people and just walk out with whatever he wants! That isn’t going to cut it with Magister Delfan.” The dwarven professor was notoriously impatient when it came to time-wasters, but if you got on her good side, people said she was an absolute blast.

You glowered at your best friend and tried to force down a tide of emotions and memories.

“Delfan wants actual talent,” you went on in a slightly more measured voice, “And I know from experience that Rune is a lazy, good-for-nothing arsehole. I worked with him before in first year? And what the fuck is he doing on a summer placement with Delfan when he’s not even studying her subject?” you added as the realisation hit you.

Rune, rather ironically, had only studied basic runecraft with you in your first year, but had switched subjects in his second. You hadn’t kept track of what he’d been doing in the interim years, but you knew it wasn’t Delfan’s specialism of foci and auxiliary artefacts, and their use in magical rituals.

You let out a tight, wheezing huff of breath and blinked away memories of your humiliating two week project ‘with’ him. It had cost you your friendship with your then-best friend too, and that had hurt almost more than what Rune himself had done.

“If I want the Board to consider appointing me for a research fellowship, I need to finish this placement with Delfan’s endorsement. If Rune fucks this up for me because he’s bored and wants to play the academic for a while, I’m going to ring his scaly neck and turn him into a fucking golden handbag, do you understand me? I don’t care who his father is, I swear to all the gods I’ll do it.”

Alana’s expressive face suddenly struggled to keep back her rush of amusement at the image. You saw the sparkle in her eyes and rolled your own in response, but a little of your anger drained away.

“I’m sorry,” Alana snickered, “But at least you’d get a luxury handbag out of it?”

You caught her laughter and your frustration disintegrated around you like a shattered potion flask.

Still giggling, Alana put her hand on your shoulder and squeezed it as she met your gaze. “You’ll be fine. Delfan is a hard-ass and she’ll recognise your commitment, even if Milordy Goldypants puts in zero effort, alright?”

You snorted a laugh, hefted your leather satchel back onto your shoulder. You’d never told anyone else what Rune had done, apart from your parents and Alana, and the idea of having to work with him again made your stomach roil. The magic that had started to crystallise around you dissipated, but your memories of the dragonborn from your first year lingered all the same, and they were not pleasant ones.

When you’d been partnered with Rune before — when Magister Orrakh had called your name right after Rune’s — your heart had dropped to your boots and he’d flashed you a sharp-toothed grin across the small lecture hall. Sometimes Magister Orrakh taught in that larger hall, when he needed more space to show the full intricacy of a runic circuit and the way magicka flowed around the lines of chalk from rune to rune, but when he taught his theory classes, he preferred to use his small classroom. Unfortunately, that day’s class had been a practical session, and the tiered seating which gave the students at the back a better view of the experiment on the stone altar at the front of the room also gave you a good view of Rune lording it over you from the higher seating.

The dragonborn had been lounging near the back of the tiered seating on the end of the row, with his serrated tail dangling nonchalantly into the gangway that ran between the two halves of the auditorium. He was strikingly handsome, of course, with eyes the colour of back-lit amber flecked with pyrite, and his scales were a warm, honeyed yellow that gleamed almost opalescent in the sunlight streaming in through the clear, arched windows set high in the wall.

His tunic was a deep, pure black, but it had been embroidered with the most minute, fairy-wrought detailing that dizzied the eye if you looked too long at it, and he had whisper-thin, gold chains dripping from ornately engraved bands around his twin, ridged horns. The larger horn sat stacked atop the smaller, nestled close together at the root, and both followed the line of his skull back over his head to end in elegant, polished, gently-rounded points. He was so obnoxiously wealthy that even the delicate, gossamer chains were adorned with tiny flashing diamonds which sent minuscule rainbows dancing around the walls wherever he went.

You'd had nothing to do with him so far in your first year at the academy, having come from entirely different backgrounds.

There was no way the scion of the wealthiest family in the entire kingdom — richer even than the royal family, if rumours were to be believed — would look twice at the adopted child of a fisherman and a rat catcher from the dockland slums of the city. You’d fought for everything you’d ever got out of life, finally earning yourself a scholarship to the prestigious Royal Academy for the Study of Magical Arts. He’d probably got his father to buy his place, since he’d shown no real demonstrative abilities with magic.

Everything had been going so well for you until that fateful final presentation of the year when you’d been paired with Rune.

Read the whole 14.5k word story, with all its angst and feels and 'enemies to lovers' / redemption arc goodness right now on Patreon! Plus last month's story which was a whopping 13k words long!! (as well as all the other Patreon exclusive content, and don't forget there are also free stories up on Patreon as well!

#dragonborn #reptilian monster #dragonborn boyfriend #lizardfolk #monster romance #gender neutral reader

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zangtang · 1 year

Note

I’m a big fan of your recent creation, especially the chunky chav collect. Are you using a single AI imagine create or a combination of tools? Would really like to learn more.

I'm using https://www.bing.com/images/create?FORM=GENILP (If you lose or don't save the link, it's simply the Bing search engine, choose Images, choose Create) Unlike Midjourney, it doesn't really HAVE any tools - but it's still so much more precise that it doesn't really need them. The prompts for the chavs in full was "very rotund 35 year old chav with a large round belly, tracksuit, washing a car, gold chain necklace, carpark at night" You can remove or add details as you please, just bear in mind some words are more heavily weighted against the censor than others: chav, or fat, can result in more censored work, so using slightly off-kilter words like rotund help to be safer. "Chav" can become "London man" or whatever. The moderation is very reactive, and I think it's already changed considerably since last week - "hugging" and "handsome" seem to be okay words now, but I couldn't get them to work earlier. I've got to give SO much credit to people who have helped me in very surprising ways (I won't name them though, they're free to reply to this if they want credit lol.) Many, many details have been either suggested to me or given directly as tested prompts - for example I'd been trying "man falling over another man" and someone recently simply changed it to "falling over another man, rugby field." I then added "low tackle, handsome" and voila! A world of difference!

i'm sure you're not at all curious but.... just in case you were interested, the specific prompt for these was very rotound man, 25 year old, large round heavy belly, fat rugby player, low tackle, falling over another man, rugby field, raining, italian, handsome

Switch "low tackle" to "slide tackle" for variety, change nationality, other than that, exactly the same Also, I implore you to share anything fun you find, it's how we all find better tricks and make each other better. Good luck!

#fat ai #fat ai men

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heaven-is-in-your-arms-series · 7 months

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I wish this outfit had been displayed like the red Inao one was, it's so textured and layered.

I feel like the costume designer went out of their way to make anyone looking at it want to touch it and I do!

Just like everyone wants to get their hands on Phra Law (and Khem) I want to run my hands over all that raised embroidery and feel the shift between velvet and silk under my fingers.

Would those chunky gemstones feel cold or warm? they look rounded and smooth to touch where the cloth-of-gold cape seems like it might scratch your skin if you run your hands over it.

The solid gold filigree of his ornamental belt is surrounded by the soft fabric of his pha nung and the mesh sash around his waist.

It's such a sensual costume, wearing it Khem is both a maddening temptation and yet at the same time aloof and untouchable in his golden armour.

Such a perfect choice 💛

#man suang #mansuang #apo nattawin #khem #golden khem #thai film #thai dance #yes i am gushing about costumes once again #this gold costume specifically #phra lor #phra lo #phra law #lakhon nok #costume #man suang costumes

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dreaming-of-the-reality · 4 months

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Season 2 Theory Below

I’ve been seeing a few people talking about this following the recent release of the Season 2 Official House of the Dragon Trailer… and I want to chime in with my observations…

Viserys wearing a ring on his right index finger

So we see here, Viserys has a gold ring on his finger. Clearly this is on his right hand, and the ring seems to be fitted on his index finger

From what I remember and what I’ve searched, I don’t see him wearing any other rings throughout the show apart from the other one on his left hand pinky(?) finger.

Daemon wearing a ring on his right ring finger

Now as we look here… Daemon proudly wears a silver round chunky ring on his right hand ring finger. It looks like it has a sort of blue middle and is clearly shown off in the season 2 poster…

Like very obvious piece of jewellery right?

Kind of looks something like this…

Clearly this is Daemons hand and ring moving along a woman’s neck. There is no doubt that this is Daemons hand (yes I compared photos of Matt Smiths hand to this image) An intimate moment which I’m sure we can all tell from the expression on this woman’s face. Who is this woman?

Obviously my first thought was “oh Rhaenyra” but for some reason it just doesn’t look like her? I don’t know what it is and it’s literally half of a face but it just doesn’t look like Rhaenyra?

So the other theory could be: Aemma

I’ve been seeing rumours (which seem to have been confirmed) that the actress who plays Aemma in season 1 will be making a return this season in a flashback.

People have speculated that this flashback will be Rhaenyra and Aemma, Rhaenyra getting closure from her mother’s death, etc.

But what if we find out through a flashback that Aemma and Daemon actually had something going on?

I know this is a stretch. A huge one. But it would be really interesting to see. I really can’t tell if this is Rhaenyra or not as the quality isn’t great and it’s only half a face, but it’s fun to speculate lol.

Most people think this is Viserys’ hand but it’s clearly not. We know it’s Daemons. Also what would be the point in having a flashback scene to Viserys and Aemma having sex? Would add no value to the plot whatsoever.

I also don’t think they are going to bring Aemma back for Rhaenyra to have a therapy session otherwise they should’ve done it in season one when Rhaenyra was missing her, or when Rhaenyra had her first child, or when she had a miscarriage as they are all things that could have tied the flashback together. It would be really random to have a flashback of Aemma now unless she was going to add some drama to the plot that maybe the books never revealed.

So on one side, this could be a secret affair Aemma and Daemon had in the past and it could be a flashback to that moment… or it could just be Rhaenyra and Daemon during another sex scene 😭

We could take this even further…

We could speculate that what if… WHAT IF… Rhaenyra, is actually Daemons… Daugh- I don’t want to even say it. But wouldn’t this be interesting twist of dramatic irony?

If Rhaenyra was actually the product of Aemma and Daemon… making her a bastard… it would mean Aegon is actually the true born heir… it could explain why Daemon was always so protective over Rhaenyra on the basis of being his “niece” but yet never showed the same affection towards Aegon, Aemond or Helaena.

All in all, I can’t wait for season 2

#rhaenys velaryon #house of the dragon #alicent hightower #game of thrones #house targaryen #aemond targaryen #daemon targeryan #team green #hotd #helaena targaryen #prince aegon #daemon targaryen #rhaenerya targaryen #queen rhaenyra #daemon x rhaenyra #aemma arryn #viserys targaryen

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thatguythatdrawsalot · 2 months

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Blake - Atlas Design Critique.

Yippee I have more to say about character designs, this time it’s Blake’s turn with her Atlas look, there isn’t going to be a redesign but instead my OCs to prove a point. I promise next time there will be a redesign.

RWBY Archives

This is gonna be interesting because before I can talk about Blake’s Atlas look I gotta briefly talk about Blake’s Menagerie design. This is all gonna culminate into the huge mess that is Blake’s Atlas outfit. Now this look has some meaning to it, by what it says Blake was wearing more white to hide herself, which makes sense for her arc at the time. It may look bad but the white coat had significance, when she ditches the coat and faces Adam to be in more black again it has a meaningful impact that she’s no longer running/hiding… plus the look with the white coat gone makes her look stunning! So tell me why she regressed her arc of hiding to be back in another uglier white coat to hide her ‘not dark enough purples’? It’s because the designer took the Menagerie look but made it sci-fi. They had no idea what to do for Blake other than to exemplify all the bad decisions in her previous look. Silly zippers that are reminiscent of Adam, a cat suit that’s impossible to put on and to take off, and ugly belts clamping her wrists for no good reason.

And one other thing, why ditch the gold for silver? Wouldn’t it be nice for someone in team RWBY to wear yellow/gold? Why not the girl who’s going to be Yang’s girlfriend???

She’s the second one to freeze to death in team RWBY.

Hair

Again, I never want to direct hate towards a modeler, end of the day it’s the people who make the final decisions for the product who are at fault. When Volume 7’s poster came out nearly everyone was super excited to see Blake with short hair, it looked really cute and framed her face adorably. When the teaser/trailer for the Volume came out… everyone lost their mind at just how ugly the hair looked. False advertising at its finest. Blake’s hair was one of the ugliest examples of modeling I have ever seen in the show proper, it beats Weiss’ chunky braid. I cannot comprehend how Blake’s model got the approval with the hair alone. The hair was a droopy blanket/helmet. When they tweaked it, it still didn’t look good or even like the concept art.

Primary Color - Black?

I’ve already mentioned that White has overtaken her color palette to regress her character development and her primary color along with purple. There is no ounce of pure Black on Blake. You can have Blake stand next to Cinder, Penny, Ruby, and Yang and they’ll have more Black than her. They try to compensate for the lack of Black with her GRAY hair, and Blake’s INDIGO catsuit.

It’s ridiculous how the showrunners turn the B for Team RWBY into the representation of the color purple/white than BLACK. Are they afraid of having Blake be a black blob on screen? The reason she had limited black in the past looks was because of her long hair, but she cut it! Put as much black as you want now! Actual black! Stop overdoing white and purple. The black I used was from a direct screenshot of Blake in the DC movie, one where she had on her old outfit that represented her color and looked good- Positives?

I think Blake tops Weiss’ Atlas outfit cause I really can’t think of anything positive to say. If there was a lack of zippers and the concept of Blake was regulated to being a background character rather than a main character, the outfit could stand on its own. Or just MAYBE this would’ve been a better look for Ilia. It can be better for any other character than for Blake. I can just imagine Blake’s excuse for wearing this being “It looked better in the picture.”

Bonus Round - Ghira and Kali

You can skip this and go to the conclusion if you want, this is just me talking about how much I dislike the ‘Spitting Image Of Parent’ trope in fiction, as this always nagged me about Blake, Ghira, and Kali’s design. Alright so I don’t mind Blake being a cat faunus, I just hate the uncreative reason as to how she became a cat faunus, this was a trait inherited by her mother. Kali is a cat faunus. In the World Of Remnant series, an episode dedicated to the Faunus had a rundown that if two faunus’ of the same kind had a kid together, it’d be the same faunus. If two faunus’ were completely different, their child would be completely random. Kali is a cat, and Ghira is a panther, both felines technically but they really couldn’t just make her parents be human/faunus? They instead just increased the odds of Blake being a cat than something else or even her parents? They made her parents similar… a little too similar. Blake’s parents read to me as brother/sister by just how similar their colors and appearance are. It feels like two artists were tasked with making a mom and dad but didn’t communicate with one another on traits Blake could inherit from the other. I appreciate that they made Kali tanner with better-looking animated cat ears but seriously they start with black hair, yellow eyes, and end with a color palette being black/purple.

I don’t understand how Yang and Ren’s parents can feel like parents with their appearance but then drop the ball for Blake’s. It isn’t that hard, up above are my OCs; John and Penelope Ironwood aka James’ parents. You can argue that I made John be a spitting image of James but at least I TRIED. I had James inherit his mother’s navy eyes and curly hair. Whenever I draw/color James I just mix John and Penelope’s skin tones to make it James’ skin color. I tried to make them look like independent characters who could look like James’ parents but still unique. Conclusion

I don’t think anyone at RT can make Blake stunning, I hope Viz Media gives Blake a good outfit.

From the teaser image it looks like Blake is wearing black, only downside is the gold piercings. I like the idea of gold piercings but my god she looks way too much like her mother… and I really don’t like that trope.

However I’m gonna keep having my hope be alive for character designs than the story. Out of team RWBY I’m most excited to see Blake’s looks, if she looks awful for the final season I’m going to cry-

But of course, it’s just my opinion. If you love this design or hate the design, please share your opinion. I’d love to hear it! :D

#rwby #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #rwde #rwby oc #ghira belladonna #kali belladonna

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foliosriot · 1 year

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The Rotten And Ugly

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

summary: you break up with noah without thinking about the consequences for either of you.

warnings: language. description of a panic attack. self-worth issues. mental health problems.

a/n: anyways this got angstier than i’d originally anticipated so uh enjoy the pain i’m about to serve you on a damaged and thrifted zoopals plate

masterlist

You hate how much he’s gotten under your skin over the years. The way he’s taken a variety of sharp objects and ruthlessly carved his name into your bones. In the intricacies of your veins there are markings that are nearly identical to his tattoos. You swear your hips and waist are permanently speckled with dark smudges, a repeating pattern that looks suspiciously like his fingerprints.

You’re still picking out pieces of him from yourself.

And yet, you were the one to end it. You were the one that told Noah you “can’t do this anymore”, whatever the hell that means. He asked as much, but you didn’t seem capable in giving him a straight answer. So you left the house battling against your instincts to run back to him.

But you were able to fight against them as you let yourself out the front door, leaving behind someone that has been a rock in your life for as long as you can remember. You left Noah standing in the living room, alone and confused. You fucking abandoned your self-proclaimed soulmate.

That was nearly a month ago.

After you left the boys’ house that day, you somehow convinced yourself that you were no longer hopelessly in love with Noah. You gaslit your own brain into believing your relationship — both platonic and romantic — was built on the fact that you were never good enough, that Noah took pity on you from the get-go.

It seemed to work. At first, that is. Because, before you altered your brain, you allowed yourself to wallow in your guilt and anxieties. For three consecutive days you bawled into your pillows, grimacing and crying even harder when the smell of Noah’s cologne met your nostrils. You were throwing yourself quite the pity party, and it was torturous.

But you were the one who was convinced that you never deserved Noah in the first place. You ended it, not him.

When those three days were up and gone, you managed to pull yourself together long enough to allow your best friend, Violet, to take you out for a girls’ night. It was something you needed — it was something that could distract you from your own head.

And the fact that it had worked was surprising. Maybe it worked too well.

At one of the handful of bars Violet had dragged you to you met Ryan. He was tall, lithe build and long limbs. His blackened hair was shorter on the sides, allowing the top to grow longer, thus falling into the beautiful hazel of his eyes. He had snow white skin but his flesh was divided up by swathes of colored ink that had nearly glowed under the neon lights. He’d donned an old Bullet For My Valentine t-shirt and black cargo pants.

Something about him had felt familiar to you. But you weren’t allowed anymore pondering over that inclination as Ryan had dragged you onto the dance floor.

It wouldn’t occur to you until a week later when you and Ryan were on your first official date. If it weren’t for the gauged ears, the round, rimless glasses, or the chunky gold rings, you would have thought he was somebody else. It was almost uncanny.

God, but you could have sworn…

You were wrong, however.

Ryan seemed to really like you, though. He had an eye for finer details and was a real sweetheart. He was obviously taking things slow with you, especially after you had accidentally dumped the story of what happened with Noah onto him over one too many shots of tequila. His genuine concern and sympathy over the entire ordeal had you fawning over him tenfold.

You and Ryan went on more dates since that night. Around him you were pushing down your self pity and replacing it with something you could have mistaken for happiness; you felt content around Ryan.

Unfortunately, nothing lasts forever.

It was nearing dusk when your apartment’s doorbell chimed. The sound startled you for a moment, but you relaxed as you headed for the door.

But there was Ryan, that smile of his you had anticipated on his face. You swallow down the chunk of disappointment.

“Hey,” you greeted him. You stepped aside to let him inside before gently clicking the door shut. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, sorry! I was gonna text you that I was coming over, but I thought I’d make it a surprise,” Ryan replies with a shrug.

You force a smile, hoping it came off, at least, partially genuine. “Oh, okay. Well, do you wanna watch a movie or something, then?” you asked.

“Sure.”

The two of you walk in to the living room in search of something to watch, be it a movie or a random episode of a TV show. You sit fairly close to each other on the small couch, a minimal amount of space between both your legs.

As you continue your hunt for your entertainment for the night, your anxiety begins to gradually rise. Your heart is thumping wildly and the palms of your hands are growing clammy and there’s a dull throbbing pain behind your left eye. Why is this happening? What the fuck is going on?

You don’t realize when you begin drawing in breaths in quicker succession, until your chest is seizing and you’re hyperventilating. The sound of Ryan’s concerned voice is muted from inside your skull, making you feel as if you were underwater. Tears are spilling down your face but you can’t find the strength to wipe them away.

Then you feel the vibrations of Ryan frantically speaking to you floating around your brain, and you’re not quite sure what he asked, but you manage to choke out one word.

Noah.

Everything became darker and blurrier after that. Time didn’t existence nor did anything around you. Your head was swimming and you couldn’t figure out where you were — if you were at home, if you were at work, with Noah.

Noah.

You think you hear the front door opening and slamming shut all of a sudden. But you aren’t quite sure anymore. This is the most violent panic attack you’ve ever had.

You jolt when there’s an unexpected hand carefully grasping yours. It must be Ryan.

His skin is frigid compared to the heat radiating from you. He begins gently running his thumb over your knuckles, a gesture that feels vaguely familiar.

The thing that finally brings you back to the present is the soft voice in your ear. At least you think it’s soft and gentle. Everything still sounds warbled, but there’s a distinct difference to this voice. You latch onto it and begin pulling yourself towards it in hopes of relinquishing the hold this panic attack has on you.

Darkness begins slinking away to reveal your living room. Your vision is blurry when you come to, but you blink away the tears that cling to your eyelashes, the action almost painful. You take a few moments to carefully and slowly gulp down several lungfuls of air before you turn to the body beside you.

But you aren’t met with the worried glaze in Ryan’s hazel eyes. Instead you see Noah next to you, his head angled down in your direction as he quietly sings.

Oh.

That’s how you were able to get through your panic attack. The only thing that has ever had that kind of power is Noah singing and holding your hand. He did it to let you know he was there the entire time, to provide something to keep you grounded to reality.

“Noah…”

Your voice comes out as a broken whisper. Noah immediately stops singing. His head shoots up. There is a frantic glint in his dark eyes as he searches your face for a moment before locking his gaze with yours.

“Baby, what happened?” he asks, one of his hands moving to your face. His palm is cool against your cheek, and you nearly shudder at the sensation of his calloused thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

“Wh-What are you doing here?” you counter. You’re trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in your heart when he called you baby. But it is much too difficult, especially when he’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. Like you were worth looking at and cherishing. Your stomach churns mildly.

A muscle feathers under his skin when Noah clenches his jaw. He continues staring at you, save for the single glance he shoots up and to the left.

You hesitantly look over your shoulder, and there, standing just behind the couch with his hands clenching the cushions, is Ryan. The look on his face is tight but unreadable. You feel Noah’s hand lightly glide down until it rests against the side of your neck. Ryan’s eyes track the movement.

“What happened?” You ask Ryan the same question, hoping he gives you an answer. You’re trying to ignore the placement of Noah’s hand, but it is proving to be nowhere near easy.

It takes Ryan a few prolonged seconds to say anything. But when he does finally speak, he says, “We were trying to find a movie to watch, but then you tensed and started shaking. I tried talking to you and to get you to stop crying and hyperventilating. You weren’t responding and I was getting really fucking worried.”

Ryan pauses. He visibly swallows, then shifts his hazel gaze from the hand against your throat to your face. A flinch ripples through your body at the emotionless light in his eyes.

“You managed to say one word,” he continues. His tone is devoid of feeling, almost like he was trying not to show any emotion at all. “Noah. And I automatically knew who you were talking about. So, because I was desperate as shit, I got your phone unlocked and found his contact you kept for some reason. I called him and, well, here he is.”

Ryan looks down at the floor beneath him. Your heart is speeding up once more, and Noah seems to have noticed because he presses his index finger into the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw. The pressure is ginger at best, but it somehow manages to keep you from going in to hysterics once more.

You look back at Noah to see him already watching you closely. Your breath hitches slightly when you notice the familiar loving shine in his irises. God, you have missed him so much.

Noah has one knee bent and resting on the couch, with the other dangling over the edge. Over the course of the attack you had crumpled into a ball — a familiar aspect of these things for you — and Noah had managed to peel away your arms from where they had wrapped around your legs like a vise. He had entered your personal bubble in hopes of helping you. One hand of his hands still held yours with a secure grip.

You felt an overwhelming need to wrap Noah up in a thankful, loving hug. But you still felt Ryan’s presence.

Mulling over your decision in your head kept the room silent. It took longer than you would have wanted, but you knew it was a necessary one to make in the first place.

“Ryan.” You shift just enough to face Ryan more directly. He lifts his head as you force your arm to move. You slowly reach for one of his hands, gathering the strength to talk. “Thank you for being here. It means so much to me.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything initially. First, he rakes his gaze over to Noah, a glare overcoming him.

“I didn’t do anything, Y/N,” he bites out. “All I did was call the ex.”

You feel Noah tense, but he doesn’t speak.

“I’m gonna leave now,” Ryan says, finally stepping away from the couch. “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N.”

As Ryan heads for the door, you call out, “I’ll call you.”

With his hand already on the doorknob, Ryan stops to look at you. His gaze softens as you make eye contact.

“No. Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. His words are quiet and tinged with a tense of sadness. He gives you a small smile. “This was really nice. I’ll see you around.”

Then Ryan is gone.

And you’re alone with Noah.

Silence sits over you like a weighted blanket. Sitting in the dead quiet with Noah has always been relaxing and comfortable, because there would be times you would lay your head down on his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat. At times like those neither of you had any responsibilities or stresses. You simply existed together in your own little world.

But there is an underlying tension this time around. You’re still angled towards the front door and you can feel Noah watching you. His pinky brushes your collarbone, and it takes all of your remaining strength to suppress a shiver.

Then Noah’s hand slips from your neck, and you can’t help but miss the sudden vacancy.

“Y/N. Can we talk about this?”

Noah’s voice is quiet. His soft tone is tainted with something akin to anger, but you can’t be sure. Maybe it’s sadness or confusion. Either way, you turn your head towards him.

Strands of his dark hair are dangling in front of his face. There’s an unidentifiable glint in his eyes that has your heart stuttering. You suddenly have a desire to reach forward and touch the tattoos on his hands and neck, everything else covered in black clothing. And you think you’re successful at resisting that feeling, when you’ve slowly counted to ten in your head. But you can never rein yourself in very well when it comes to Noah.

You turn to fully face him. He watches your every move with a confused air about him. His body stills completely when you finally stretch your arm out, your fingertips brushing the red apple at his throat. You swear he shivers slightly when your fingernails graze his inked skin.

Noah lets you touch his tattoos without a word or twitch of a muscle. With every movement you make he watches you like a hawk, like he’s going to tear you limb from limb at any moment. You have done this countless times over the years, but something about this time feels different.

This goes on for only a few short minutes. Until Noah grasps your wrists and gently pushes your arms away from him. He keeps his hold on you.

“Y/N.”

Your throat constricts slightly in apparent preparation to cry once more. But you swallow thickly as you manage to meet his eye.

“Noah.”

He tightens his jaw. He lowers his eyebrows slightly as he considers you and your slightly patronizing reply of his name.

“We’re gonna talk about this,” he tells you. “Right now. Whether you like it or not. We need to talk.”

And he’s right, you know he is. Though you don’t know how this is going to go.

You shakily take a deep breath anyways. You nod once, gesturing as best as you can despite your momentary shackles for Noah to speak.

“Why? Why did you break up with me?” Oh god, you’re hoping he didn’t feel your pulse spike at his question. “I mean, you gave me a reason, but we both know it was kinda bullshit. You didn’t tell me the truth. So can you tell me the truth now?”

Fuck. You can’t do this.

I’m sorry, Noah. But I can’t do this anymore.

There’s a pulsing behind your eye. Your head is pounding and your cheeks are tear-stained. And you would be an even bigger liar if you restated what you said that night. ‘Cause by the fucking gods above, you were all in from the beginning. You knew you were in love with Noah a long time before you actually started dating. You have been by his side through the worst years of his life, and he has been there for yours.

You have missed him more than anything this past month. Even while hanging out with Ryan something felt off. Your brain was too hung up on Noah to even fathom forgetting him or replacing him.

So what’s the point of hiding anything else from Noah, since he has seen and witnessed every dark and ugly and rotten thing you hold inside? He saw all the bad and evil that reside deep, deep down and still chose to stay.

But you have been broken for a long time, even considering how much Noah has helped you. There is something damaged beyond repair within. You’re not sure if it’s worth keeping anyone around anymore in order to try and fix it. It seems pointless, really.

Noah is still watching you. His hands are firm around your wrists as he waits for your answer.

“I’ve never been good enough for you,” you finally say, and it feels like a weight is lifted from your chest. “You how damaged I am. You have seen all of the shit that keeps me up at night and you’ve experienced firsthand how violent my panic attacks are. Why the fuck did you stay? You’re Noah fucking Sebastian. Lead singer of a successful metal-core band, who could have anyone he wants. And you chose me? I guess I just don’t see why.

“I’m not worth the hassle or worry. Everyone wastes their time with me. I’m not getting better — I can’t get better! So I removed the variable that was the issue. I removed the problem so you wouldn’t have to. I willingly took the swan dive, ‘cause sooner or later I was gonna self-destruct. I’m a fucking time-bomb, and you know it.”

Throughout your explanation Noah stared at you. He had made no attempts to interject or talk down on your feelings. He listened intently, and your heart aches.

But you can’t take the staring any longer. You wrench your hands away from Noah and stand from the couch. You wobble on your feet for a moment before you regain your balance, shuffling to the other side of the living room.

You turn to look at Noah to see him slumped against the back couch cushions. His arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are still tracking you. Both feet are planted on the carpet.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” you demand. “Like—Like I’m being irrational. Or, like—“

“Like I actually care about you?”

You fall silent at Noah’s interruption. His face is nearly expressionless, but you detect the minuscule frown on his lips.

“I’m not gonna stop caring about you, Y/N,” Noah continues, his voice low. You think he may be angry. “It’s not something I’m interested in doing. Because, yeah, I’ve seen all of the fucked up shit inside of you, but you’ve also seen it from me. You chose to stay too, right? So why would I want someone who doesn’t harbor a little bit of pain or agony? That makes you human, and that makes you you. ‘Cause believe me when I say that I am in love with you. Baggage and everything. But I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Tears had begun falling from your eyes again. Your lips trembled slightly at Noah’s declaration. Your body was shaking.

You watch as Noah gets to his feet. You can’t help but fold your arms around your torso as he slowly approaches you. The blood pumping through your veins and roaring in your ears is deafening.

“I can’t promise I won’t hurt you.”

Noah pauses a few paces away at your words. He meets your eye for just a moment before you’re locking your gaze onto the floor.

“Okay. Then don’t promise. I don’t care if you hurt me, ‘cause I’m gonna stay either way.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“What if…” You sniffle as you tighten your hold on yourself. “What if I don’t want you to stay?”

“That’s not happening.”

“Noah, I—“

Noah takes the steps forward to reach you. “The only reason you don’t want me to stay is so you can convince yourself everything was your fault,” he told you. His voice is still low in pitch and peppered with a certain hardness. “I’m not gonna let that happen. None of this is your fault.”

Your instincts are screaming at you to fall into Noah. Every inch of your body is berating you to let this all go and let Noah back in. You both need each other, you know that. So why is this so goddamn hard?

His words hang in the air like a heavy fog. Your vision is blurry from tears. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest. This has to end.

“Get out.”

Noah recoils a fraction at your unexpected statement. “What?”

“I said get out. I made my decision, and you need to respect that.”

“I’m not leaving.”

More tears cascade down your face. Every single one feels like acid eating away at your skin as you raise your head to look Noah in the eye.

“I’m not going to ask you again, Noah.”

Noah doesn’t protest. But you can see the tears in his eyes as he eventually backs away and goes for the front door. You’re shaking uncontrollably as you watch him open the door, chance a glance back at you, then leave. He gently shuts it behind him.

A void opens up in your chest. It yawns wide, a blackened abyss growing bigger and bigger inside of you, threatening to consume your soul.

God, what the fuck have you done? You are so in love with him, and you just let him leave like that. You can’t even begin to believe that you’re this fucking stupid.

But Noah left because he loves you. And that makes the tears fall harder and faster.

You can’t imagine a life where he isn’t there. Frankly, you don’t want to imagine such a life. In every past, present and future you have ever conjured up in your head, Noah has always been there. And you just ruined any chance of fulfilling a better future for both of you.

This can’t happen.

You’re not going to let this happen.

Without thinking you dash for the door and fling it open. At the other end of the fairly short hallway, near the elevator, is Noah. His head is hung and he’s holding his phone. You can’t see his face clearly, but there’s a foreign rigidness to his body that you wish you never have to see again.

“Noah!”

And at first Noah doesn’t react. Then he’s twisting his neck to look your way. The sight of you has him straightening his posture and sliding his phone back in to his pocket. You can see the rise and fall of his chest, a certain anxiety about him that hurts your heart.

Then you let out a loud sob, and Noah is racing for you without hesitation. He gathers you in his arms before your body crumples to the floor. You latch your fingers onto the fabric of his shirt as you cry against his shoulder. One of his arms is fastened around your abdomen while the other is along your shoulders, that hand slipping through your locks of hair and carelessly gripping at the roots.

“I’m sorry,” you sob against his body. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. God, I’m so stupid. I am so sorry—“

Noah cuts you off. “No, Y/N, do not apologize,” he tells you, his own voice thick with tears. “You’re not stupid, either. You were trying to do the right thing for you, and that’s okay. Never apologize for that. Okay?”

You manage to nod once. Then he’s carrying you back into your apartment in the direction of your room. He carefully sets you down on your bed and immediately joins you. There’s blankets around you and Noah is holding you tightly.

You bury your face in his neck with your arms coiled around his shoulders. His arms hold you against him, his head resting beside yours on the pillows.

The pillows were beginning to lose the smell of Noah’s cologne. You were worried they would have trapped the scent of Ryan instead over the past couple weeks, but all you feel is Noah. Every sense is overwhelmed by him and his presence. The feeling of his body against yours feels like coming home once and for all.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x reader #x reader #bad omens #bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #alex! ❪ 𖤐 ❫#alex’s writing! ❪ 𖤐 ❫

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skulls-soul · 8 months

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Super Mario brothers fandom hear my plead

I need more people making Mario is fat ass, ok

It is canonical that Mario is a huge snacker, in the old cartoon series Mario, constantly says after or even during a mission how he’s starving

Not only that Luigi would sometimes mention how they eat not even two hours ago

There’s an entire episode, in were Mario was passed out, and the only way to wake him up is by Luigi making him a pizza pie

In Luigis mansion three, you can see Mario eyeing a piece of cake like if it’s his long-lost lover only for Polter pup to take it instead

Which he laugh’s off this time, but just imagine when they’re at home and Polter pup steals food that LUIGI made for him and Mario looks at the dog and it’s just like “ now listen here you transparent menace do that again and I’m putting your favorite toys to wash”

canonically (for the most part) Luigi is a good cook and cooks for him and his brother and almost everyone seems to add that fact in fanfics and stuff so round of applause everyone, give credit where credit is due. Good job, y’all . Also, good job on making Mario appreciate his brothers cooking like if it’s liquid gold.

All I ask for Is that my 5,1 chunky plumber to act more chunky.

Is that too much to ask?!?!? I think not

#I will be keeping this in mind to add to my creations when possible #luigi #luigi nintendo #Mario #mario nintendo #smb #smb luigi #smb mario #mario brothers #mario movie #the super mario bros movie #super mario brothers #luigi and mario #mario and luigi #Mario is a bad ass fat ass and you can’t take that away from me let me have a relatable character

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kit-williams · 8 months

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Glaubenskraft

The big Black Legion/Luna Wolf story. Because of the dark nature of this story aka the rape and other heavy themes like with other dark themed stories there is no use of you or I. There will be an OC that is going to be sent into the dark depths. I will say this with scensarity. When I write for 40k I do take advantage of the grimdarkness of the far future. You are all probably aware of this if you've read a lot of what I write. This is one of the fics I pushed to the limit. I'm also going to apologize for combat scenes I'm not very good at them.

tw: Rape (dead dove do not eat), Forced Pregnancy, some mind break, stockholm syndrome, Breeding and impregnation talk and kinks, clothed male unclothed female for one part, and please let me know if there is something I have missed

Zhur Painbane

Dolli Quest: purple eyes, prosthetic left leg, prosthetic left hand, scars on her arms, large aquilia tattoo on her back from shoulder to shoulder, red hair

Cadia would fall... it was inevitable really. The crusade would succeed but Zhur Painbane was simply here to cause terror within the Cadian trenches as they push hard. His furred cape was black and sooty still hanging together since the days he was a Luna Wolf... a faded wolf head holding the center red gem on his chest. His golden mask turned upward as the booming crack across the sky as the Maelstrom seemed to lash out against the Imperials.

They were trying to surround him. How cute. He thought as they shot at him with heavy munition.

"Dolli call artillery!" He heard someone shout. As his head whips to the soon to be dead Cadian shooting him in his head!

"Yes Sir!" She shouts as she forces Zhur to snarl and reel back slightly to avoid a shot in the eye lens. You're going to die slowly little rabbit. Though he might have fun with that one... he enjoys the shape of her face... the strong jaw and the vibrant amethyst eyes that practically glow. Zhur wants to see that face of hers look hopeless.

He began the quick slaughter as he watched her run down a section of the trench, hopping over holes and dead bodies. When she got far enough... he shot a few rounds and rushed after her.

Dolli got the radio warning of the Chaos Space Marine on her tail. She unloaded a few hand grenades feeling them blow up behind her and causing a chain reaction with unexploded ordinance behind her or grenades. Even the heat of that behind her kept her going as she knew he would be right there. She slid herself to the vox. "This is Vox Alfa 4 fire on our position. We have a Charlie Sierra Mike running through the trench. Emperor Protect our souls."

"Emperor Protects." Was all she got on the other end of the line.

The heavy and chunky thud of her rifle bought her a few seconds as he rushed down upon her. She pressed the barrel of her gun to his throat and pulled the trigger several times. His head jerking back as she barely missed his vocal cords and spinal cord. Snarling as those black and gold fingers dug into the blood filled mud as she overcharged her las and burned several holes into his arm. She kept him on his toes as he played with his food... Dolli knew he was playing with her... she just had to be enough fun.

Zhur heard the whistling and tackled her into the bunker nearby as the earth shaking rounds threw dirt into the air. He was snarling as he could feel his organs shutter. He ground his sharp teeth looking at the body under him. He wasn't a dedicated slannshi to fuck a warm corpse. His fingers cupped her chin as he looked at her, nose and ears bleeding from the explosions and most likely ruptured her organs.

He turned away and walked toward the entrance. She would have made a fine subject to his experiment... a refinement to Honsou's design. Honsou was onto something but he did it wrong... the human body is already capable of flushing out the rejects naturally. Zhur was on the cusp of success... just the last female he had went insane and had died outside of his control but she gave birth to what was essentially a space marine.

Dolli pulled out her knife as she looked at the space marine just standing there. She was going to die... she accepted this... but if she could be the reason this traitor dies she could be happy with it.

Zhur snarled as the knife buried itself into his side and he heard the mechanics of a priming grenade. His honey brown eyes flicked to his side seeing Dolli there with her hand on the knife and the grenade in her hand. She was making a reach to try and tangle herself against his armor.

Dolli doesn't know what happened exactly in that moment as she had stabbed him and was ready to meet the Emperor. The next moment the grenade was out of her hand and her breath was knocked out of her as she felt herself being cradled. Had a loyalist space marine come and saved her? No... it was still black and gold armor against her... NO... NO NO NO NO NO. Dolli began to thrash as nothing good ever came of being saved by a Black Legionary.

He snarled over his vox down at her as she realized her hand holding the grenade was gone and she didn't feel the way he just cut the metal off. "You little bitch. Thought you could get the drop on me?" He snarled as he began to rip the leather and thick cloth of her trousers, crushing the metal and the armor plates on them.

She kicks and tried to slam her prosthetic leg into him trying to get it to go beyond what it was suppose to do. She could hope it would decide to kick a hole in his chest but so far that wasn't happening. "Die in a hole you filthy traitorous scum!" She spits and snarls at him. Dolli had a dreaded feeling of what was going to happen she tries to grab her knife but he throws it away. Its a horror of the battlefield no one talks about... well when one of the enemy's entire perversion is sex... she remembers being warned as a little girl what could happen. She remembers how many of her friends couldn't stomach the idea... it wasn't guaranteed that it might happen... most likely you'd be blown apart but... the thought that you could be an unlucky victim. Dolli never thought it would be her.

Agent Quest?

"Behave!" Snarled Zhur as he grabbed her organic leg and threatened to snap it.

"No!" She screamed back as Zhur pressed his hand down on her stomach as he pushed himself between her legs and pulled his cock out. Zhur would play nicer after this... if she survived.

For Dolli she gritted her teeth as she could feel the cockhead pressing hard against her entrance. She couldn't even kill herself to save herself from this... either it would be a slow painful death via internal bleeding or she would be found later... discharged and always given pitied looks as if there was some sign around her neck that everyone could notice that she had been defiled by a traitorous and tainted space marine.

Zhur watches her face... he expects that fire to go out... to see that delicious helplessness... the begging and pleading for mercy where it wouldn't be found. Instead he found a fire... warp fire in her amethyst eyes. How she was still snarling at him... she looked like one of the corpse emperors living saints right now... the way her eyes glow with righteous anger... the paleness of her skin smeared with dirt and blood... how her hair is splayed out making a halo a dirty halo full of dirt, blood, sweat, and soot. Zhur snarls as he pushes into the unwilling cunt.

Tears prick the corner of her eyes as she could feel it all and the pained cry as he forced himself into her dry. She hissed with pain as he bobbed his hips working each painful inch deeper into her sex.

Mattis go get the others she's having an episode.

Mom?

Mattis go!

Mum please... wake up.

Zhur felt himself bottom out and moaned. He let her cunt spaz about him as blood, his pre cum, her piss, and her own forced arousal helped get him this far. He leaned his head back and savored the feeling of her around him. She glared up at him with wet eyes still looking like a fallen saint. Zhur was hardly a word bearer but perhaps he had found someone who was chosen by the corpse... he grins at the thought of stealing her away from him.

"Oh I think I'm going to do more than just fuck you till I feel better... there will still be that." He moved his hand to her throat as he had to be gentle given he was still fully armored as she was at an awkward angle. "I'm still mad at you little mortal... I didn't appreciate the headshots and nearly taking out an eye." He chuckled as she replied with a snarl.

"You are going to be part of something much more than yourself."

"Fuck you! The Emperor protects me and I will never join Chaos!" She screamed causing him to laugh.

"Silly mortal. I'm currently fucking you and who says I need you to join. Oh what will be happening to you... please do pray. Pray to him and let him see what will happen to you." He purred as he was kind enough to let her adjust to him as he enjoyed the feeling between her thighs.

Dolli refused to scream... refused to cry as she just glared up at the grunting marine above her. She tried to focus on the distant gun shots and explosions instead of the lurid wet squelches that was starting to happen. The wet fapping noise as she felt herself become aroused. Remembering the woman from that class explain that it could happen... its nothing about want... sometimes the body is like a machine and when something goes in there it reacts like how it is suppose to.

For Zhur he was panting and grunting and growling above her jerking her hips to his over and over again...

What's going on?

Mum is having an episode.

Mama's done so well... what triggered it?

I don't know Zekyr!

Calm down Naxos.

... it felt like heaven between her thighs. Oh yes he was going to keep her. Zhur felt so warm inside of his armor as he started to jerk her hips faster. Oh yes he was bringing her back. Zhur groaned as he pulled her tightly against him and spilled inside of her.

For Dolli she didn't know what to expect next... she couldn't stop her thrashing as he grabbed her head and slammed it down. Making everything go dark.

However there was no throne to greet her in the dark. Just a whisper... I'm sorry. The weight of those words sat like a stone in her stomach as she knew she was still alive. Her eyes opened for brief moments... all she could see was black and gold... profane shapes that hurt her eyes... twisted individuals draped in skin... someone touching her face and grabbing at her aquilia before she saw them turn to red paste as the space marine holding her snarled something in a foul tongue.

Dolli felt sore... there was a throbbing in her face... the throbbing between her legs... she wasn't on a shitty medical cot. Dolli was on a soft bed... she opened her eyes she was naked save for her aquilia... her leg prosthetic was missing as was the reminder of her forearm prosthetic. She had been cleaned and that feeling made her feel sick as she had an idea who... seeing hickies blooming on her thigh and one of her breasts.

"Ah welcome back." A clear voice purred to her. Honey brown eyes looked at her from a face that seemed to have some 5 o'clock shadow growing in with short neat black hair shaved to a military standard. His canines were long and so was his tongue but he was dressed in a black compression shirt and some shorts. Dolli was confused... she would have mistaken him for an Ultramarine or even a Blood Angel if it was not for the star of chaos on the door. "So Dolli, that is your name if I remember right. I'm going to tell you what is going to happen."

She looked at him unimpressed, "I assume rape me again and twist me to Chaos?" She said before spitting at him.

Zhur liked his little wife clean. Her hair was a deep red that looked better clean... oh he was eager to see it long and see it pool under her head like a blood pool. "Oh perhaps if you continue to resist it will be rape. But no... in fact I want you to try to resist... I want you to cling to the Emperor as long as you can as I think I like your fire. But no... you're going to help me make more space marines." He said running his tongue over his teeth looking at her on his bed.

Zhur quickly realized when he became a Luna wolf all those years ago that he felt a deep longing for something... he should have been like his brother... having a wife on his hip to come home to... he wanted that. He didn't know why he did and perhaps if everything had succeeded and the Astartes were no longer needed he would have settled down, probably several times given his life span, and had his own wife on his hip. He couldn't explain the deep covetous need it bloomed into and seeing Dolli clean and laying on his bed once again triggered that need.

Lucky for him... she would be the first test of what was his final plan for an improved demoncubula. Though less demons involved and a lot more dark mechanicus involvement and flesh shaping psykers. "No snide comment on that?" Zhur says tilting his head to the side before continuing, "You see I realized that getting pregnant was hard as was staying pregnant... the human body is very good at detecting genetic defects and reabsorbs the fetus'... oh look at me explaining your biology to you." He coos softly as he walks closer, "You are going to be my little wife. " He grabs her chin as she looks at him with wide eyes, "And we're going to make a happy little family."

"You're insane." She hisses softly.

"Perhaps but that is what happens when you want something so badly you are forced to make it yourself. Your womb will be modified and you will be given an organ called a progenoid that will feed into your modified womb. You will give birth to Astartes whom all they need to do is grow up and get the remainder of their organs with no fear of rejection. You," He cups her face, "Will be my reward."

"What."

"Oh yes I already proved that it worked. But I want to make sure it works for multiple babies..." He crawls on the bed and watches her try to crawl away but he holds her in place, "You will also be modified in a few ways to handle my... hmmm tender affections?" He chuckles softly at his own joke. "A wife must be able to handle her husband isn't that right my little wife?" He groans and Dolli watches as he gets hard.

She pushes against his head but he runs his tongue along the valley of her breasts as he grinds against her, "Oh my little wife I shouldn't... you'll be having surgery soon enough... but I'm so excited." Dolli scratches at him as he pushes his ring finger inside of her this time to try and work her. "See darling I can be nice I'll make you feel good." He pants with perverse pleasure, "You'll make such a good mommy for our boys. Won't you? Yes... say yes... you'll be such a good-"

"Mommy?" Dolli finally blinks as she looks up at pair of bright purple eyes, belonging to her eldest Thallos. She looks around seeing three other concerned looking pairs.

"B-boys. What." She looks down at the railing she is holding onto with a white knuckle grip.

"You were thinking about Da- um Zhur again weren't you?" Thallos says.

"You can still call him Daddy, Da, Dada, Dad, or Father if you want I know you all still hold affection for him." She says with a sigh as they look guilty at that fact. They look like a mashup between Horus and their father with a few features from her. She was happy they all had her eyes... "Boys don't feel guilty for what your father did." She no longer flinches when calling him that... she hardly realizes she calls Zhur their father.

Dolli Quest was now an inquisition member along with her four boys... Thallos Quest, Naxos Quest, Zekyr Quest, and Mattis Quest. They were an unidentified 4 man astartes group that just would affectionately refer to their inquisition liaison as mother sometimes. That was the cover the Inquisitor gave her... she couldn't help herself as they were her boys. Zhur gave her four little angels that she loved so much... they were a happy little family.

Dolli knew something in her broke during her time with Zhur... she never fell to chaos even during what eventually turned out to be century with him. But, she was the one who wanted Mattis... she seduced him to give her one more little boy. She was scared that they would have to leave Mattis behind given how close he was to his father when Thallos wanted to help her escape.

She pulled Thallos close before opening her other arm and feeling her boys get close. "I love you four so much... don't ever think I don't... I love you all from the tops of your heads to the bottom of your toes... to the sky above... and the earth below... to the stars beyond... and forever and ever after." She whispered to them kissing their cheeks or foreheads as she let tears fall. Dolli broke... because she couldn't find it in her heart to hate Zhur anymore.

However, she wouldn't go back... she was a loyal Imperial citizen! She wiped her face and straightened up, "Alright boys we've got a mission!"

------

Mattis was a good boy... all of his sons were good boys in his eyes. But Mattis could not keep anything hidden from his father. It is how he learned about Thallos' plan to steal his mother away. Only reason Zhur allowed it and in fact helped it succeed was because he was going on a long deployment and had a feeling someone was going to try to kill his precious little wife. The last kiss he gave her still warmed his lips... the uncertainty in her eyes... nearly giving up the ghost herself it would seem.

Zhur smiled as he watched on the screen as he could see his Dolli! She walked with her retinue and their sons. Zhur keeps telling himself that he allowed this... he allowed all of this... but really the separation was killing him now. He wanted his boys back... he wanted his wife back. He inhales hard and calms his eager voice as he connects to the private family vox channel and purrs out, "Daddy's home"

Thallos: Mommy

Naxos: Mum

Zekyr: Mama

Mattis: Mom

#tw: rape #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: forced breeding #tw: forced pregnancy #dead dove do not eat #warhammer 40k #tw: yandere #Yandere #Yandere Space Marine #Space Marine #Yandere Black Legion #Black Legion #stockhom syndrome #smut #tw: smut

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pearlsgirls · 10 months

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Mother of Pearl Chunky Earrings Mother of Pearl Gold Round Chunky Earrings Mother of Pearl Round Chunky Earrings Chunky Dangle Earrings PRODUCT DESCRIPTION: MOTHER OF PEARL CHUNKY EARRINGS ♥️Chunky Round Mother Of Pearl ♥️Round Gold Stud ♥️HONESTLY HANDCRFATED ! All of the jewellry is handcrafted by myself in my little PEARLS&GIRLS studio and not just bought and re-saled :) ♥️PACKED IN BEAUTIFUL BOX🎁 All items will be sent in a beautiful sturdy box with Pearls&Girls logo:) ♥️COMES WITH A GIFT Beautiful jewellery gift with every order! ♥️DISPATCH & DELIVERY TIMES All items are made to order. It usually takes 2-3 working days to prepare and ship an order. ♥️SHIPPING INFORMATION ALL ORDERS SHIP WORLDWIDE FOR FREE ! EUROPE -5 -7working days USA- approx. 7 working days REST OF THE WORLD - Usually arrives in 5-12 business days *Please, upgrade your delivery option if you need tracking for your parcel.* ♥️CONTACT Thank you so much for visiting! please feel free to drop me a message should you have any questions:) ♥️SOCIAL MEDIA For more jewelry and to join my newsletter you can find me on my website www.pearlsandgirls.com ♥️REFUNDS & EXCHANGES I always happy to assist and try my best to make my clients smile! I am offering hassle free refunds & exchanges in case of damaged items

#mother of pearl #chunky mother pearl #mother pearl earring #chunky round dangle #chunky circle earrin #chunky round earring #chunky gold circle #mother pearl dangle

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cryptiidcrowe · 5 days

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oscar malevolent my beloved <3

i fully blame @lighthouseshepard and their fantastic blind faith fic for skyrocketing oscar’s design up in my priorities

(as always, design notes under the cut!)

honestly don’t have as much to talk about with this design, but there is some stuff!

- his rosary necklace has two larger wooden beads etched with a sun symbol (john) and moon symbol (arthur). the danglies from his glasses also have a star shaped pendant at the end

- made his jewelry gold to match with arthur & john’s color scheme <3

- i tried to strike a balance between him being soft and round (see nose, body type, etc) while also looking a little gaunt (hence the hollow cheeks)

- he has a partial unibrow, and his eyebrow shape is generally thick and chunky and. sad lol. same with all the lines making up his eyes being downturned

#oscar malevolent #malevolent #malevolent podcast #malevolent fanart #blind faith #arthur lester #arthur malevolent #artists on tumblr #fanart #my art

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istherewifiinhell · 5 months

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okay my non tf knower beloveds. before you is the two most famous female autobots from their latest released iteration

[ID: 1. Left, Elita-1, has a slight frame with squared off shapes, augment with chunky boots and plating at her knees, forearms and big shoulder pads. Her base metal colour is light pink, with dark pink plates. She has large rugged tires at her feet and shoulders and a hip skirt made of her alt mode car doors. Her helm is large, continuing the shape of her head in a triangular or trapezoidal shape.

2. Right, Arcee, also slight, but in rounded retro future shapes, her plating very stream line and evoking her retro car alt mode. Base metal is grey, seen only on her face and hands, the rest of her in baby pink and creamy off white. Small white rimmed tires on her legs and shoulders, and a chromed up backpack. Her helm is small, looking more like a white helmet, round with flat disk either side. 3. Extra angle on Arcee in daylight colours to show off her features more END]

sorry no promo art arcee yet. for whatever reason. the bastards.

now. here is the female autobot from the new movie trailer

[ID: Cyber robot design, with more metallic shine. Slight frame, rounded square shapes. She's in a more saturated pink colour at the helm, torso, upper arms and lower legs. With a lighter colour that's pink, rose gold or grey depending on lighting, for the rest. And some black at her joints. Upper arms are long, rounded, lower legs have a sort of swoopy boot shape, with pointed knee pads. Her helm's a larger blocky shape than her face, a squared look from the from, but either side has the round flat disk parts. 1. Upper body from the side, holding big gun. 2. Upper body facing forward 3. Action pose showing some of the legs. END]

yeah i did my best shes not in it much

#some shit #its not called cisformers #i dont actually care about this as a poll i just figure ppl will click a poll even if they wont interact. im just sharing this to share it #im NOT saying u have to love how the es designs as the pinacle of woman tf design.#these are the best either has ever gotten lmao. you know how it is being a tf fan.#also they are not the only or even main ladies which helps a bunch.#NOT dunking on movie girl to dunk on the movie OR cause like booo i hate her. this is about DESIGN decisions. u get?#BOTH es ladys are very different looking cars. movie lady is. ofc. a motorcycle. cause we cant have shit #heres hoping they pull out some impressive engineering for the toy. otherwise. to the backpack hell u go!!!

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xwritingdixonx · 1 year

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Till Death Do Us Part | Chapter 2 |

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series masterlist

Summary: Y/n and Deanna discuss the arrival of the new group in Alexandria, causing more conflict amongst the Blackwell family. Until, Rick and a very familiar face stroll up to their front porch simply wanting to say hello.

Warnings: Arguing, language, mentions of physical fighting/ abuse, sensitive topics (the inability to have children)

Word count: 3.3k

Tags: @daryldixcnswife

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The dirt that had accumulated on your skin over the past 2 weeks ran down the tub meeting the metal drain of the shower. Cleaning up was dreadful yet relieving. The way the hot water hit every tense muscle in your body from sleeping on floors and washed away all the blood and grime that covered, what felt like, every inch of you. You scrubbed and scrubbed. Scrubbed under your nails, your scalp, your skin. Washing everything twice and giving yourself a good shave. You didn’t have to, you knew that. Dead walked the earth. No one gave a shit about body hair. But you did it this time just to make yourself feel better.

It was in moments like this, that you thought about him. Moments when you got to be alone and your mind would wonder.

You’d practically shove Daryl into the shower, especially when he’d get home from the shop. He’d smell like oil and dirt. You could handle the dirt and sweat but not the oil, it gave you migraines if it lingered too long. Some days Daryl would mess with you, attempting to sneak up on you when he thought you didn’t notice (you could smell him before you saw him). Or chasing you around the apartment for a hug before he showered. But there were occasional days when he’d come home and you’d be curled up in bed, covering ur eyes from any light, and rubbing your temples from an already severe migraine. He’d go to the shower immediately, then come to you.

You cut the hot shower off, almost as a way to cut off your thoughts too. You slipped on a pair of light colored jeans that we’re probably a size or two big for you which you had to secure with a black belt with a chunky silver buckle. Your white tank top was fitted and tucked into your pants.

Your long hair hit almost the mid of your back. Cecilia and you had similar hair, brown and wavy. If there was something the Blackwell’s had in common, it was the hair that grew from their heads. Thick and full with waves or curls, varying shades of brunette. You pinned half of it up, letting your bangs fall to frame your face, making a note that you’d have to go see Jesse for a trim soon.

Decking yourself out in shades of silver and gold didn’t scare you. You wore the same silver necklace that held your ring, finding it a habit to play with it. Rings cluttered your fingers, as did the silver hanging from your ears. In total you had five piercings on each ear. You and Nellie got all of them together when you were teenagers. Two on your lobe, two on your lower helix, and one on your upper helix. It wasn’t everyday you wore your ear jewelry, in fear that in a fight they could be ripped out.

The ink that forever touched your skin was your favorite accessory. You didn’t have to clip them on everyday, didn’t have to worry about them falling off and losing them forever. They were just always beautifully there.

After lacing up the same black boots you laced everyday, you were off to Deanna’s, not returning home for another dragged 4 hours.

The sun was no longer at its peak in the sky, it was at a mid point meaning it would be setting within the next couple hours. You shut the red front door behind you, rounding the corner to the kitchen which connected to the dining area. The conversation you heard when you had first walked in the door had come to a close. Everyone sat around the large dining table with changes of clothes, clean skin, and clean fluffy hair. “Celia told us….about the group” Nellies words were soft and quiet, “that’s why you were at Deanna’s right ?”

You let out a sigh and rested your hands on your hips “yeah, yeah it was”

No one could quite read your expression and you weren’t quite sure what emotion to present them with. You had talked to Deanna for hours, you were quite exhausted. In all honesty you just wanted to go to bed.

“Come on boys, let’s take this outside” Henry motioned for his nephew’s to leave the table and pick up their card game. As you approached the table Henry pulled out out his chair for you, you gave him a polite smile and a small thank you before sitting down. Henry didn’t like to get involved in family business too much. He wasn’t blood, he hadn’t married into the family unlike his older brother so usually he was quick to excuse himself unless you asked him to stay. You liked Henry, he was loyal to you and your family, a skilled fighter, and treated the boys as any amazing uncle would, they adored him.

“She’s not budging is she?” Tommy sat to your right, you shook your head. “I gave up after a couple hours” You truthfully admitted crossing your arms across your chest, “she says we can’t just kick them out, that they’ve gotten comfortable and that it would be cruel.”

The way the room fell silent showed how deep in thought everyone was, wracking their brains to decide their standpoint on the situation.

“She says they’re good people, that I need to meet them and decide what jobs they’d be best for. She even suggested having a dinner party” You continued, you could hear Eddie scoff a laugh from next to Tommy but you forced yourself to tune it out.

“She’s right.” Celia started with a serious tone in her voice, “they have children. We can’t just send them back out there. Those kids deserve a roof. And food. Just like Jace and Luke do.” Celia’s tone was firm, obviously show casing her stance on the matter. Deanna told you how Jace and Luke had been hanging out with the younger boy, his name was Carl and that he was a kind kid. Nellie expressed her agreement with Celia.

Eddie muttered a “god Nel” while shaking his head. “What Eddie?” Nellie snapped throwing her hands up in retaliation, “ i’m not saying we trust them! i’m saying we give it a chance. If something happens we deal with it.” Nellie wasn’t the type to yell and throw insults, even now she wasn’t yelling. There was almost a plea in her tone. Pleading for Eddie to just stop being so stubborn.

You remembered when your group arrived in Alexandria. You wondered if there was ever a time someone sat around their polished wood dining tables, debating your stay. Probably, you were quite the gossip for the first few weeks. Nellie’s pleading eyes met yours. “Sitting around debating their stay isn’t gonna change anythin’. Deanna made her choice.” Tommy interjected, Tommy always tried to be the middle ground in situations like this.

When there seemed to be a “right” and “wrong” side, Tommy stood arms crossed in the middle. And if he couldn’t find a middle ground, he stuck by your side, whatever your stance might be.

“How did you not know?” Eddie, unsurprisingly, turned his aggression towards you because you knew somehow in his mind, this was all your fault.

“What?”

“She didn’t once mention this to you?”

You let out a deep sigh and crossed your arms over your chest, “No Eddie.” You allowed your tone to match his, condescending and thick with ignorance. He sat up in the wooden chair causing it to creek, so you did the same. Straightening your back and allowing a light scowl to spread across your features. It wasn’t exactly intentional but it wasn’t unintentional either.

Everyone else at the table knew where this was going. You and Eddie were relentless with each other, the insults and name calling were vicious. Hands were only laid on each other once. You had shoved him back by his chest which resulted in him grabbing you by your wrists, shoving you into a wall. Tommy broke it up, screaming at the both of you. Eddie did apologize for that considering you had light bruises on your wrist for a few days after.

The bickering between the two of you began, “well then maybe you don’t have as much say in Alexandria as you think you do. I thought you were Deanna’s right hand” Eddie knew how to press your buttons, to dig right under your skin and just let himself marinate there. “I wasn’t here, remember? I was on the trip with the rest of you.” You watched Eddie roll his eyes with a malicious grin on his face, his next insult on the tip of his tongue.

“The same trip you murdered a pre-“ “Don’t.” You abruptly slammed your hand on the table creating a loud bang causing every in the room to flinch. Simultaneously standing up from your chair causing it to create a scraping noise against the floor. Your chest was heaving with heavy breaths, your nostrils flared, and your jaw clenched as your temper began to rise.

Eddie didn’t seem to care, always as if it was amusing to him. “Were you angry ?” He looked you dead in your eyes, taking a stance himself “jealous maybe?”

“Eddie” Nellie spoke in a firm yet quite tone in an attempt to tell him to stop. He was going too far, farther than he ever had before but he didn’t seem to care. Ever since the incident happened on the trip you knew he had just been waiting. Waiting to bring it up, waiting to scream at you for what you’d done.

“Because she was gonna have something you’d never have, a family.”

“I have a family.” You snapped back, keeping your composure at his words. Though your features had softened from the scowl you once wore.

“Maybe that’s why Daryl walked out. Because I might’ve too if my wife couldn’t give me-“

“Enough.” Tommy took his stance in front of Eddie, chest broad and an angry grimace on his face. Your face fell showing a hint of your vulnerability about that topic.

The look on Nellie and Cecilia’s face said it all as did the silence that settled in the room.

For a second you could see Eddie’s eyes droop with a hint of regret.

“Lizzie would hate you.” With those words, out went any regret Eddie had for his words. He went low but you always knew how to go lower.

Lizzie and Eddie were the oldest and the closest out of the four Blackwell siblings. They were so close in age that they practically grew up as twins. They were the one’s who saw and dealt with the issues within the family long before Nellie or you had. You were both too young and ignorant. Lizzie was the one out of the two to approach things with a more mature and calm mindset. She was the one who bailed him out of all his shit. Who supported all the girlfriends and heartbreaks he went through. When Lizzie died a piece of Eddie went with her, she kept him good. Kept him from turning angry. Like your father.

There was truth in what you said. Lizzie wouldn’t like how he carried himself now. Wouldn’t like how he treated you, the things he’s said to you.

You could see the hurt in Eddie’s face and his water line form with tears. You had never hit a nerve with Eddie while arguing to the point where you made him cry. “You’ve been alone these last few years! Alone and angry!” Eddie yelled at you, a quiver in his voice, before he turned to leave. “What would you suggest I do? Fill my bed with as many whores as you do to keep myself warm!?” You yelled at him as he exited the room, his stomping foot steps on the wood stairs before the slam of a door.

Nellie let out a sigh running her hands through her hair, “I’m sorr-“ “Fuck off Nel.”

Your hands shook from anger as you slipped a cigarette into your mouth and headed towards the front door. There was a gust of cool wind that hit your red hot tempered cheeks. You caught sight of the boys who sat around the little glass porch table, playing their card game. Hopefully, they heard nothing.

“Who’s winning?” You asked as you lit your cigarette and made your way over, leaning your lower back on the white railing of the porch. Making sure the wind blew the smoke in the opposite direction. “Uncle Henry” Luke jokingly rolled his eyes, a satisfied smile bearing on Henry’s face.

“I used to bet money with this game, of course I learned how to win”

Henry’s eyes met yours, you wore a frown on your face and so much dread behind your eyes. “Start a new game without me, I’m gonna talk to aunt Y/n”. Henry left his seat along with his cards and walked with you a bit farther down the porch to the stairs. Both of you stood opposite of the other, leaning your backs on the beams of the porch.

“I can only imagine how that went” You scoffed and nodded, “yeah about the same as it always does.”

Your head fell low, your eyes only looking at the ground of the porch and your boots. “I don’t know if it’s my place but I-“ Henry stopped mid sentence and sighed, “Deanna’s coming”. He spotted her a little bit farther down the road, 2 men following in her tracks. “And she brought company” You groaned and turned your back to the street, almost as if you were trying to hide yourself behind the white beams of the porch. Maybe your white tank top could camouflage you. “Fuck me” You muttered taking one last drag of your cigarette before stomping it out and kicking it off the porch. “Go grab everyone for me Henry” You blew the smoke out from your lips, mentally preparing yourself to turn around and put on a perfect exterior.

What could she possibly fucking want? Did she not get enough of you?

Rick and Daryl spotted the house Deanna was walking towards before they even got close to it. It was one of the larger houses in Alexandria, if not the largest.

Deanna had went over to Rick’s a bit after she was done talking to you, she asked him if he’d be willing to come meet some “very important people” and to bring whoever he wanted. Rick of course, picked Daryl. Daryl knew how to read people, he was quiet, observant and most of all, honest. Rick did ask him for one thing, a goddam shower.

Getting closer and closer to the house, Deanna waved at Henry, who retuned a polite wave and smile. But for Daryl, it revealed silhouette’s and faces that were all too familiar. He felt his heart pound against his chest, even though he stood outside, all the oxygen his lungs needed was gone. He knew it was you by the way your large back tattoo could be seen through the sheer white fabric of your shirt but he still didn’t allow himself to believe it. Not until he saw your face.

You turned with your hands on your hips, a forced smile on your lips, allowing yourself to be in clear view.

“Hey D?” You bare feet walked down the cool wood floor of your apartment hall, making your way to the living room where you could see a lamp on. Being up this early was normal for Daryl, he usually left for work before you got up but Daryl didn’t work today.

What you didn’t expect to see when you entered the living room was Daryl swinging the strap of a large duffel bag over his shoulder. “Where the fuck are you going?” You were still groggy and tired, your hair messy, only wearing short pajama shorts and a tank top. “I gotta go make sure Merle’s alright” You and Daryl had just argued about this yesterday, the news reports were getting worse and Daryl was insistent on going to Georgia to at least make sure his brother was okay. He tried to reason with you, saying he’d go check on your aunt Claudia too and that he’d be home within a day or two.

You never understood it, his brother was a piece of shit that he hadn’t talked to since your engagement. After Merle said you were just “some whore not worth putting a ring on”. You didn’t understand why he wanted to blow money on a plane ticket to go see that bastard.

“So what? You were just gonna leave me in the middle of the night?” The sleep that once clouded your eyes was replaced with burning hot tears. You were angry and hurt.

“No, I-“ Daryl finally caught your eye and saw the tears rolling down your cheeks. He dropped the bag back to the floor and came to you, cupping your face in his large hands. You crossed your arms across your chest, needing to show how angry you were. “I would never leave ya.”

“So then stay.”

The fake smiled you had forced on your face before dropped. A mixture of shock yet relief emitted off your features. You had to let a few seconds pass, struggling to let your brain process that he wasn’t just a polaroid picture you kept next to your bed. He wasn’t the linger of touches you could ghostly feel on your skin. He wasn’t a memory, he was right here. Your thoughts couldn’t formulate a sentence, your lips parted because you wanted to speak or cry out but you couldn’t. And you knew, if you didn’t touch him soon, every atom in your body would surely rip itself apart.

As soon as Daryl saw your foot take the first step down onto the stairs, it was his green light and he met you halfway. One second you were apart and the next your body was melting into his. His body is rough and stronger than the last time you felt him but it gives you more relief than you could’ve ever imagined.

You can feel his firm torso and beating heart. His arms are practically locked around your back pulling you closer in. You can feel your body shake and you can’t help but cry, cry because of the three long years of not having him.

You pull yourself back to look at him, cupping his face in your soft hands while his hands lingered on your hips. He doesn’t look at you at first, his head is low, his long hair falling in his eyes. “M’sorry” He chokes out, when Daryl met your eyes he expected anger which he knew he’d have to understand.

But that anger didn’t exist.

All he was met with were doughy eyes, watery with tears.

“I know” Your mouth painted a soft smile as you gave him a nod before folding him in your arms again. “Uncle Daryl?” The boys were next to give Daryl a hug, you heard him reply to them with a soft ‘hey kiddos’.

As the rest of the members in your family piled out of the house, Daryl got his fair share of hugs, hellos, and happy tears. You watched as Eddie held him especially tight, them sharing a few words you couldn’t quite hear. There was a particular person who couldn’t be spotted amongst the group. For a second it almost seemed as if Daryl looked for her, waiting for a hug from your eldest sister.

Daryl looked at you searching for an answer and you replied, with a simple shake of your head.

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