#can a person's behavior jump the shark

[suchawrathfullamb]

hello, lamb! what are your fav hannigram fanfics? xx

I'll give you a worthy fic rec, anon! (all on ao3)

The Seventh Sense: it's my go-to comfort fic, it's lengthy and I always reread it out of order simply because there are so many chapters where it's just fluff and smut and them being husbands. I love the details on the writing, and how it is first person Will's pov. Slightly ooc behavior sometimes, but minor and passable. It's essentially post-fall murder husbands living in Europe, being husbands in their fancy hotel rooms. There's plot and even Clarice, but it's mostly them being in love and such. Bram Stocker's Hannibal: absolutely perfect, it's theatrical and over the top, first person in Hannibal's pov (for most of the fic, but it changes povs quite regularly). What makes it a favorite for me it's their dynamic of worshipper/pretty princess lol. I love me a dainty Will (I blame Hugh) aesthetic and in this fic, we get two Wills! One that is more like our original Will and one who is a past life Will, our dainty indulgence. Trigger warning: quite a lot of Alana/Will actually, but idk, they make it up for it (believe me, otherwise it'd be unbearable for me, so rest assured, it's fine and it doesn't ruin the fic). Also: victorian! Cuts Unscene: essentially little moments we "didn't see on the show", you know how we always say we wanted those in between scenes? This is the fic, but as if they were a thing since the start, but we just didn't see it onscreen lol. It's amazing and even has season four, although I like the iteration of seasons one to three best. I adore when they write them together since season one, and this is one of my favorites in that category! The Cat's Meow: crack, incredibly sweet where Hannibal is a russian blue kitty cat, it's short and the cutest. Shark Tank: they meet in prison, Will is H's prison bitch for a lack of a better term lol, this one grows on ya, the first time I tried, I didn't like it, but then I gave it another shot and ended up enjoying it quite a lot, actually. It's obviously a bit crazy but, idk, I liked their dynamic. It's more on the fast-paced, "fun" side (by fun I mean not emotionally heavy as most hannigram's fics?).

Bloodline: shorter, super fun to read vampire AU, where both are vamps. Witty and fast paced, not victorian, though, like the dracula one, this one's more modern. Black Rock Mountain: amazing AU where Will wanders and Hannibal is a nice, fancy man who gives him a ride on the side of the road. It's shorter, but easy to read, fast paced and very hot.

How To Save a Life: very short and it's so sad because it's one of the best I've ever read. It's basically "Will tries to jump off a bridge but ends up offering himself up to a cannibalistic serial killer", but it's just...perfect. So them. A Great And Gruesome Height: beautifully written, classic post-fall, very realistic in terms of what could've actually happened in season four, amazing characterization, both are very congruent with canon.

As Soft As Wide As Air: another classic post-fall, what can I say besides really nice characterization, dialogue feels realistic/canon, and also a very probable season four version! Herringbone: um the worst? it's the best, but man, brace yourself, and definitely avoid this one if you're struggling with depression or anxiety, I had to take a few breathers with this one cause the author just absolutely *murders*, amazingly written, extremely realistic inner dialogue , you simply get pulled into the narrative and it is dark as fuck, not even in terms of content (I mean the show has dark content so lol) but more so in terms of Will's state of mind and wow, just wow, I ate 66 chapters up in two days, basically destroyed my sleep schedule and eye sight but worth it. I cried and I panicked and I felt every emotion. good luck lol, it's amazing but it's tough.

[betterbemeta]

I feel like some things in the Jurassic World movies are actually a step backward in the science-fiction zone from Jurassic Park III. I think that was the one where it was revealed that the raptors had a 'language' and complex communication that implied not just 'intelligence' but 'sapience'-- and I understand that some people felt this jumped the shark a little.

(yes I know its a dream sequence, SHUT UP, they went there,)

But I remember seeing it when I was little and it made perfect sense to follow the original beats of how the raptors were scary in previous movies because they could interact with human environments like doors. They could use deception, 'tactics' and could not easily be contained.

If you're implying that these are beings that can reason, and further acting as if this reasoning ability is more threatening than the reasoning ability of a chimpanzee or something, then you're not afraid of 'what' is hunting you, but 'who.'

And that they could have reasons beyond being hungry bloodthirsty animals to be aggressive toward you.

That you have imprisoned 'people' and not 'animals' or even 'beneath animals' (creatures that have no natural existence, creations, toys, etc.)

But there's something disappointing to me about the stuff with Blue and Chris Pratt and all of that. It feels more like the fantasy of an animal tamer at a circus who has mastery of dangerous creatures (something that most modern circuses have cut) than it feels like a relationship with an intelligent creature capable of complex communication.

(Tell me how this is different from the image of a 'lion tamer' with a chair between him and his 'beasts?')

It doesn't even feel like the level of communication that you should be having with your dog, or cat. But the raptors of course obey Chris Pratt's fantasy expertise and fantasy rules surrounding their social behaviors because the point is to depict Chris's character as skillful. 'The right way to approach raptors' is whatever the writers want it to be, unlike real dogs, cats, horses, bears, big cats, etc.

In reality, there are a lot of failed 'animal whisperers' out there, hucksters that fake being an animal behaviorist to impose fantasy-like rules on animals while abusing them, and dominance-based trainers who get sued for animal abuse if they aren't attacked by the animals first.

The Jurassic World movies seem to mitigate this idea with that the raptors are not natural creatures (but living 'in the wild' seems to be a conclusion for at least one of them?) and that they vary in intelligence level, with Blue being the most intelligent. My issue with this is that complex communication required for coordination also requires multiple parties that understand it. Why aren't the raptors basically having constant misunderstandings between their differing mentalities, or misunderstanding their handler who doesn't seem to vary his approach between them?

Basically my point is. The place Jurassic Park was going, it was fine. You made Frankenstein's Monsters, classic sci-fi dilemma. It kind of sucks that they downgraded Dinosaur Frankensteins into... the emotional replacement for circus animals in the modern day when we know dancing bears and elephants aren't ethical. However 'cool' they are on their own, that type of creature in a narrative is there to demonstrate the bravery of their 'tamer' and any 'trust' the animal has with that tamer is just the same. It's not about any creature actually making its own decisions, let alone a highly intelligent one.

It doesn't really matter that Jurassic World movies try to have it both ways, with some lip service to 'respecting' the raptors, and sometimes other dinosaurs, showing the antagonists being 'disrespectful' by contrast. If we continued the themes from JPIII, the type of 'respect' that is supposedly the 'good' position, is not the kind of respect you'd want to give to a person.

[taldigi]

is there a difference between alina and alya???? in terms of personality?

Since Alina is supposed to represent precanon Alya: yes.

From the 9/7/2012 bible: As eccentric as Marinette is classic, Alya wears extravagant outfits, swinging from gothic to geeky. She takes pride in being nothing like the others. It's her way of distinguishing herself. Alya is perfectly at ease with all things technology and telecommunications. Moreover, she's a budding reporter for the college newspaper!... Alya shares her bedroom with her younger sister. The room is divided in two. Alya's half is lined with posters of comic book superheroes, the floor is strewn with cables connected to an imposing DIY computer station.... Besides, she has theories on everything, admittedly- they are often very absurd. She dreams of gaining powers and becoming a heroine like Ladybug... Alya doesn't understand how Marinette can fall for Adrien, On the other hand, Alya finds Cat Noir super classy, ​​molded into his somewhat gothic leather uniform. Oh! If only Alya was Ladybug...

She is bright, smart, geeky- but fashionable! She's an individualist- loving to define and express herself. She's whipping up wacky theories that stem from her hobby of being a reporter for the school newspaper and her love of superheros- something she wishes desperately to be. She's a tech wiz- having built her own computer.

She also has a crush on Chat Noir, which i think is great in contrast to the love diamond and her relationship with Marinette. Later art of her does show that she even put red streaks in her hair, wore goggles, and held a helmet, which I think is super neat and expresses her more... creative or even techy side?

Canon Alya, on the other hand, dosen't seem to be too entrenched in tech, past a passing comment that a "good reporter backs up her files" or smth. But that's like.. something built into most phones these days, so it's not really a.. tech.. geek thing. Alya also never expresses much desire to be a hero, it more falls into her lap due to circumstance and nepotism. and her antics devolved into "stupid reporter" and zero self-preservation instinct- as well as pushing Marinette around for self-confidence reasons. (there is a discussion to be had there around black and asian stereotypes but thats a discussion for another day.)

Anyway, while it's true that none of the characters change outfits much due to cheaping out on 3D, Alya expresses no interest in fashion whatsover. In fact, she seems to carry a hipster vibe (she's rather unfashionable- I mean, most the cast are, actually.) and her outfit sort of expresses a carelessness to her fashion choices- as it's boring and plain, rather than "eccentric" She also actively seems to balk at the idea of Chat, and ignored him for the most part in favor of Ladybug. Her relationship with Nino is actively detrimental to her character and I think was her shark jump- as it suddenly started being the justification for a LOT OF BAD BEHAVIOR.

Hope this helps!

[amarionetista]

You have a lot to learn

Carmilla was accustomed to Velvet getting on her nerves with all that haughty attitude, as if she were truly the only person there who really mattered.

Most of the time Carmilla simply swept all of Velvet's insubordinate behaviors under the rug and just let her provocations fall on deaf ears.

However, this time, Velvet remained in the boardroom with her even though all the other Sovereigns had left, sporting that smile of someone who thought they knew everything.

"Can I help you, Velvet?" The question left her lips with a sour touch of disdain.

Carmilla expected an eye roll, expected to see the smile on Velvet's face falter. Hell, she even expected a snappy comeback.

Her response was a laugh that seemed to pierce the ears, Velvet jumped out of her chair and walked towards her slowly, as if she were a shark circling its prey.

Carmilla didn't back down, although she felt she should. Velvet didn't scare her in the slightest, but her attitude seemed to hide something she feared she didn't want to know what it was.

"Do you really think you can help me with what I need?"

Carmilla was about to roll her eyes when Velvet's touch on her forearm sent shivers down her spine.

Velvet was still smiling at her, the tips of her fingers slowly moving up her arm.

"What are you doing?" Carmilla hated how her anger disappeared from her words, replaced by something close to curiosity.

Velvet took this as a cue for her next act, the distance between them almost completely extinguished at this point.

Carmilla didn't take more than a second to read all of Velvet's theatrics. Her expression hardened and Velvet finally faltered, her smile disappearing and her hand freezing on Carmilla's shoulder, as if suddenly she wasn't sure what step to take next.

Carmilla smiled satisfied, the levels between them finally leveled.

"You really should get to know your opponents before proposing a challenge like this."

Carmilla's hands were quicker than Velvet could keep up with at that moment. In less than a second, Velvet was on the table, Carmilla's hands holding hers on each side of her body, trapping Velvet as she leaned her body over hers, smiling satisfied with the scene before her.

Velvet abandoned her haughty attitude, but her smile was still on her face, she stared at Carmilla's whole body, as if she expected to engrave every detail in her memory.

"So…" Velvet teased, one of her legs lightly brushing against Carmilla's calf. "What are you waiting for?"

Carmilla accepted those words as her invitation to go further. She closed the distance between them, kissing Velvet. Her hands let go of Velvet's and wandered aimlessly over the other sovereign's slim body, causing shivers that only made Carmilla more proud of herself.

Velvet's hands curled around Carmilla's neck like snakes. It was as if she didn't want to let her go.

Carmilla was almost completely surrendering to that feeling, although a part of her still expected some attempt from Velvet to control the situation.

However, to her surprise, Velvet was surrendering to her with every touch. Allowing Carmilla to be the one in control.

That almost made her laugh, Velvet, beneath all that attitude, was someone who preferred someone else on top of her, deciding everything.

Carmilla certainly wasn't that kind of person, she would hate to be at the mercy of someone else's choices, even in this situation.

So she preferred to throw her last bit of restraint away when she deepened the kiss. Her tongue exploring Velvet's entire mouth, her hands wandering aimlessly over Velvet's body, causing shivers that only made Carmilla more proud of herself.

When they pulled away Velvet was breathing deeply, her clothes wrinkled and one of Carmilla's hands was still on her waist, as if she wanted to prevent her from leaving.

"That was… fucking amazing."

Carmilla rolled her eyes at Velvet's choice of words.

"I have to admit," Velvet began once she had completely regained her breath, "I didn't expect to get that from you so easily."

"You really know how to ruin any moment, are you aware of that?"

Velvet laughed, her hands touching Carmilla's face so softly that Carmilla closed her eyes and leaned into the palms of her hands.

"Do you want to find out what else I know?"

Carmilla smiled proudly at her, making Velvet seem eager for her response.

"Ah, you're going to learn not to underestimate those above you."

[box-life-hermit]

A lovely person on tiktok with the username @/ goodboygutz has made a series of videos talking about various "animal coded things" that people do, and as a therian, I love this shit

So allow me to make a list of more animal coded things! There may be overlap between animals

He may have done some of these animals, or he may not have, but I just wanted to contribute <3

If anyone else wants to add things that are [insert animal] coded, go ahead!

Animals in this post: Shark, Dolphin, Crocodile/ Alligator, Bear, Kangaroo, & Spider.

Ik a spider is an insect but shhh

🦈Shark-coded things:

Getting oral fixations / a need to chew on things

This one feels kinda obvious, but you like to swim

This is very specific, but when you go swimming, you like to swim under water and then shoot up above the surface of the water (this can also be whale-coded and dolphin coded)

You're always busy and on the go

Wearing jewelry that has shark teeth on it seems like something a shark would do if it became human

Seeing how long you can hold your breath under water

Liking to wear sleeveless shirts seems kinda shark coded to me idk

Having bad vision is shark-coded to me like have you seen greenland sharks?

If you like to just make the chomping sound just to hear your teeth clink together

If you're really flexible, that's shark coded- bending like u got no bones & shit

Shark coded behaviors are like the himbo version of dolphin behavior but anyone can be a shark

Wearing those hoodies that zip up at the hood feels very shark-coded to me

🐬Dolphin-coded:

The jumping out of water thing mentioned in shark coded things

You're a stoner

Being into ballet / figure skating

If you like to eat seaweed

When you go swimming you like to go diving for things (if you've ever dropped something purposely in the bottom of the pool just to go and dive for it)

Again if, when you go swimming, you like to see all the different tricks you can do (making bubbles under water, doing flips under water, different ways to jump into the water)

If your laugh kind of sounds like "ha-a-a-a-a-a-ah" iykwim

When you get excited or happy, you just start squealing

If you like collecting seashells

Idk why, but being good at math or science seems dolphin coded to me

🐊 Crocodile/ Alligator-coded:

When you're in a body of water, if you like to just sit there and float in the water instead of actually swimming / you know how to float on your back

Wearing jean jackets seems very crocodile coded to me

Liking denim / jean material in general tbh- alligator skin clothes just feels too obvious but ig that too

Having long nails, bonus points if they're uneven

When you go to a restaurant afterward, you ask for toothpicks. Alternatively, you like cleanings at the dentist. Fr just those birds cleaning out ur silly little gator mouth

Your color metal jewelry of choice is black metal, OR wearing jewelry with that like string/ rope material

Wearing pants that have a lot of pockets / genuinely liking camo print? Alligator/ crocodile coded

You can go a really long time without blinking

Adding this for the shits and gigs: you are a Crocs wearer.

🐻 Bear-coded:

You like crocheted things

Youre a honey over sugar person (seems obvious)

Wearing any kind of ugs but especially ugs boots

You drink hot tea- bonus points if you put honey in it

Having a hammock in ur room is bear coded but its also ferret coded

People think you're intimidating at first but you're really nice

In the winter you curl up under your bed with a bunch of stuffed animals and warm blankets

Not being a morning person is bear coded imo

Liking smores but specifically liking MAKING smores

This seems kinda obvious too but if you like to go camping

When you "nap," it's over 3hrs / you are a deep sleeper. Bonus points if you snore that is suuuper bear coded.

When you're mad, your go-to thing is to just grunt or yell

If your bed has a lot of blankets on it- bonus points if theyre soft / fuzzy throw blankets

Wearing oversized hoodies / wearing those hoodie blanket things (oodies?)

Your love language is aggressive affection

You like wearing fingerless mittens

You like climbing trees (also feels a little obvious)

When you're really excited/ hyped, you jump up and down. Also, you like trampolines (feels obvious) (can be rabbit coded)

🦘Kangaroo-coded:

(Will be overlap with bunny coded things)

When you need to get somewhere in a hurry, instead of running, you might start skipping

You need to have pockets on the clothes your wearing (similar to alligator/ crocodile coded)

If someone asked you to hold a cat or puppy/ small animal, you would hold it by cradleing it like a baby

Wearing big boots? Kangaroo behavior imo

Wearing sunglasses? Idk it's kangaroo coded bc I say so 🤷🏽‍♂️

When you go out, you have a million things in your bag - you're the type of person to bring a bunch of things "just in case"

Youre the type of person to furrow your brow when you get confused / focused

🕷Spider-coded:

Not exactly that you're someone who likes WEARING crocheted things, but that you're someone who does crochet / knit (can also be bird coded)

You were into rainbow-loom as a kid

Sewing/ any type of skill like that seems super spider coded

If your bed has a million random items in it like your phone, a water bottle, airpods, ect.

Having long but even nails seems spider-coded

This seems obvious, but if you're into areal arts with silks

If you're someone who wears a lot of fishnets- fishnet tights, fishnet top, fishnet gloves

When you have a straw wrapper / when you pick off loose strings on your clothes you roll them into a ball

You're someone who likes round-shaped foods; like a rice ball, a cake pop, donut holes, cheese balls, etc.

Wearing lacey clothes feels spider-coded

Follow for more!

[queentheweeb]

Eijiro Kirishima X Shy Female Reader

A/N: You have a shark quirk

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You were always self-conscious about the way you look. You had blue skin, black eyes with blue pupils, and a shark's tail. Your quirk was literally shark. You were made fun of for your appearance as kids all the way until you got to middle school where you met Mina and Kirishima. The three of you became the perfect friend group, you and Kirishima hanging out together whenever Mina was with her friends. You would stay by yourself as well when Kirishima hung out with Tomo. You hated him, he gave you the creeps. He was so fake. He had a crush on Kirishima but, not the healthy kind. He gave you the kind of energy that he would force himself on Kirishima so you never let him be alone with him. You somehow convinced Kirishima to always be with an extra person and not be with Tomo alone. Thankfully he listened and nothing ever happened. It could have been paranoia but, that paranoia could have saved Kirishima a whole lot of pain and suffering. It also had to do with the crush that you, yourself had on him. You weren't about to admit that to no one though. Let alone Kirishima. 

"Y/N-CHAN!" You jumped turning just in time to catch Mina who threw herself at you. She always did that. Didn't she realize that she was muscle and she wasn't light despite being small? "I was calling your name for the longest but, but you didn't hear me." Oops, you did it again. You got lost in thought thinking about Kirishima. No surprise there. 

"I'm sorry Mina, what were you saying? Can you repeat it for me please?" You had to be careful around Mina. She meant well but she was a magnet for gossip and crushes and she had an inkling about your crush on Kirishima. 

"I was asking you what do you think about going to the mall on Friday! I love to shop but, I hate going by myself, pleeeaaasseeeee come!" Her voice was high-pitched and whiny or maybe it was because you had sensitive ears. 

"Yeah, yeah I don't mind going." She yelled happily her eyes landing on her next target which happened to be Denki. Poor boy didn't even know what was going to hit him. You sat there at the lunch table listening to everyone else talk and jab around. You always hopped tables giving everyone in your class a chance to talk, even Mineta. That ended quickly though when he asked about your boobs and you threatened to eat him. He has avoided you ever since which is exactly what you wanted. He needed to learn to respect women and be decent human beings because not everyone tolerates that kind of behavior. You had chosen to eat miso soup with pork belly and white peach juice. You were in the mood for something hot anyway. 

"Y/N-chan! Do you want to spar if All Might sensei allows us to choose our partners?" You turned your head at the happy voice that belonged to the residential sunshine boy of the Bakusquad. Who can ever say no to that face? He was like an excitable puppy.

"I would love to spar. Better pray I don't beat you this time." You stuck your tongue out playfully at him enjoying the way he blushed. You knew he liked your new tongue piercing so you used every excuse in the book to show it off to him. It made you grin just as much as he did. 

"I'm going to win this time!" He bumped his fists together using his quirk only to jump when Bakugo hit him on the head yelling at him to finish his food. The rest of the lunch period went by relatively fast and, before you knew it everyone had to change into their gym uniforms and meet All Might out on the training grounds. You looked for any scent patches and with a curse, you saw you left them at your dorm. You had no time to go and come back so you had to pray that no one bled. Everyone knew how you got when there was too much blood, you went into an uncontrollable frenzy. One time Monoma compared you to Toga saying how the two of you will get along and Kirishima punched him in the face with no hesitation to the shock of everyone. Realizing you were wasting time you ran to the training grounds where everyone else was already lined up in front of All Might

"Alright, now young heroes! Today is a special day! I am allowing you to grab a partner of your choice and practice your special moves on each other! Take this time to hone in on your new skills and I advise you to fight with someone you normally don't fight with! GO PLUS ULTRA!" The man was so enthusiastic it was contagious. Everyone was hyped up and you ran straight to Kirishima. This is why he wanted to spar, he always sparred with Bakugo and Denki but, he needed to spar with someone different. This was smart on his part. 

"Are you ready Y/N?" He hardened completely as you got down in a defensive position.

"I'm as ready as you are Eji-Kun!" It was a low blow knowing that always threw him enough that he had to throw himself to the side to avoid your kick. The fight was on. The two of you exchanged blows making sure to never cut skin. Both of you had relatively hard skin so neither of you really bled. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case for the pairing by you guys. Shoji was fighting with Bakugo who showed no mercy and one of his explosions completely tore off one of Mezo's arms. Everyone froze at the yell that came from the normally quiet boy.

"WHAT THE FUCK KATSUKI!" Katsuki flinched hard at that. Mezo not only yelled but used his first name "YOU ARE LUCKY IT GROWS BACK!" Mezo was upset which was a rare sight.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" That was another shock since Bakugo never apologized but if I was yelled at by Mezo I would apologize too. You sniffed the air and that's when you realized you were fucked. It was too much blood and you had no scent patches. 

"Oh no." You whispered it and the only one to hear you was Kirishima. He seemed to realize what was happening. 

"SHIT!" Everything after that was a blur. You could remember nothing except the smell of blood and the feeling of arms around you. You were thrashing and snarling wanting to get near the blood. You needed to have some. It smelled so good and all you wanted to do was sink your teeth into it. You kept thrashing as you felt yourself move further and further away. NO! Your prey was getting away! You needed to finish it! You started snarling more realizing you might need to call defeat. As the smell finally went away you slumped over into whoever was holding you breathing heavily. It was rare for you to go into a frenzy like that but, when it did happen it was always so draining and exhausting. It took a toll on you. "Come back to me Y/N" You turned towards the voice blinking rapidly to try and clear your vision. You were met with the worried eyes of Ejirou "How do you feel? You scared me back there." He did sound a bit scared but more worried than anything. 

"I-I'm sorry, w-what happened?" You had worked on your shyness your whole life and here was Eji making all your progress go down the drain. 

"Bakugo went too far and the smell of blood made you go into attack mode. I was the only one who can grab you without getting hurt cause of my quirk. I brought you to recovery girl and she told me that your patches were missing." You blushed your cheeks were tinged purple.

"I, uh, may have f-forgotten my scent patches at my d-dorm" Kirishima gave a huff. 

"Why didn't you tell me? I always keep extra for you just in case you forget." You blinked not expecting that tidbit of information. He blinked too realizing what he said "W-well uh, I always k-keep extra stuff for you, you know? I care about you a lot." You blinked not believing your ears. 

"You care about me?" You prayed he meant more than a friend. He nodded his head before furrowing his brow. 

"I care for you more than a friend...I was always so scared to admit it thinking you won't like me back but, it's not manly to hide my feelings for so long." You blinked at that. There was too much to impact at the moment but, you knew what had to be done right now. 

"Come here." He blinked leaning down and you quickly pecked him on the cheek near his mouth. "I like you too." You grinned at him loving his blush. 

"I WIN! YEAH!" He was shushed by Recovery Girl which made the two of you giggle. Yeah, the two of you could talk later but, enjoy the moment now.

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What do you guys think?

[indoraptorgirlwind]

CHARACTER PROFILE

Face claim: Allison Williams

Full name:

Quetzalli (Kit) Cortés

Age:

20

Ethnicity:

mexican

Gender:

female

Nicknames:

Kit, Kit the cat, spider monkey, celest quetzal, quetzi

Personality:

Kind and soft with everyone. When she trusts or knows you she becomes an energetic person. When she doesn't, she's shy and reservated. Her experiences and personality can make her a little underconfident.

Appeareance:

she's short and skinny. Both her hair and eyes are brown. She almost always wears jeans, boots and a yellow hoodie.

When she's on her celest quetzal suit, she wears a black interior shirt, with both celest shirtfront and loincloth. Wears traditional huaraches. She has a mask with diverse mayan paintings and feathers (mainly green and blue) on the top

Abilities:

Spear and dagger handling, summoning of dinosaurs, agility, ability to climb and jump without hurting herself (mostly), wind manipulation, nahual shapeshifting (only into a quetzal bird)

Fears:

Almost any insect/arachnid (except ants, flies, mosquitoes, butterflies and long legged spiders), losing her brother, earthquakes, dissapointing people she loves/cares about, sea animals (except dolphins, whales and sharks)

Occupation:

paleontologist

Hobbies:

drawing, climbing, jumping, reading, etc.

Relatives:

Sergio Cortés Lozano (father, deceased)

Yazmin Alvarado Torres (mother, deceased)

Manuel Cortés Alvarado (brother, deceased)

Horacio Rivera Flores (guardian, deceased)

Favorite food, drinks and snacks:

Tamales (specially red ones)

Jackfruit

Ezquite

Tejuino

Flavored water

Chapulines

Favorite animals:

Quetzal birds

Ducks

Snakes

Iguanas

Alligators

Dislikes:

Seafood (except tuna), pumpkin, onion, melted and burger cheese only (she loves the rest of cheese). She doesn't like fishes, worms, roaches, rats nor mouses.

Backstory:

Kit lived on a loving home in Tlaquepaque, México with her parents, Sergio Cortes Lozano and Yazmin Alvarado Torres, and her newborn baby brother, Manuel (Manu) Cortes Alvarado.

At such young age of 4 years, she was already hyperenergetic and started climbing the couches, this was an early signal of such climber she would later become.

In 2011 when she was 7, there was a high level earthquake that destroyed her home. She was in school when it happened. When she arrived, she found her mother dying under a rumble, holding Manu up to her before dying.

She and Manu got adopted by Horacio Rivera Flores, a paleontologist who was the friend of their father.

To comfort them, Horacio took them to the museum where he worked, showing them the fossil of a concavenator and explaining them about the species and the diverse dinosaurs. Kit couldn't help but feel connected to these animals.

In 2018 when she was 14, her, Horacio and Manu moved to San Francisco in search of new animals to discover. She was already working with Horacio on his job. While doing an investigation on the inside of a ferry about the behavior of Basilosaurus. There, she got to see giant-man (she was on the ferry from amatw)

A day after that encounter, she became focused on finding out about this being and who it was. She discovered it was just ant-man, and in search of answers, she tried to give with his location and ask him herself.

In the following weeks, Horacio seemed sick. He was getting worse, and he was already way too weak on his bed. Horacio got blipped, while Kit and Manu survived.

She and Manu returned to México, grieving Horacio's and other loved ones deaths.

In 2020 at the age of 16, after living alone with her brother, she was arriving on an excavation, when she found an ancient artifact, a mayan obsidian dagger. It caught something in her so she didn't report it and sneaked it on her bag.

When she arrived home, she got curious of the dagger, as it had some kind of button. When she pressed it, she unexpectedly summoned a concavenator with it. After realizing it would follow her commands and configurating the button, she realized the dagger could somehow summon extinct creatures at her will.

She named the concavenator "Corve" and discovered other creatures that would aid her later.

One day, she discovered her brother got assaulted by a thief, so she took a choice. She got an old celest blue mayan suit from an event, made a plume mask, and with a homemade spear and her dagger, started to fight local crime, with the intentions to protect people, but overall, her brother.

She also met Ruben on this period of time, who was also a newly turned superhero due to a replication he worked on since he wanted to be just like the original spider-man.

In the following years she became more agile than ever. Her climbing became more and more expert, already climbing trees and even buildings.

In 2023 at the age of 19, when the blip was undone, Kit realized by the news, where the avengers communicated their journey to restore half of the universe. She remembered Horacio, and that he was so sick before being blipped.

She and Manu rushed to San Francisco again, but when they arrived at the department, it was too late. A worker informed them that after he unblipped, Horacio died by his disease.

Full with grief, Kit and Manu were devastated, but she noticed something. In the news, there was ant-man again, and now she knew how to find him.

Kit found Scott, and after meeting him, they became great friends.

Then time later, she would get lost on a forest. There, she finds a sorcerer named "white shaman" who offered her to let her know her spirit animal and help her find her way out of the forest.

The next day, with his guidance, she learned to turn into a quetzal bird. When she mastered it he suddenly dissapeared and was never seen again. She also adquired wind abilities.

One year after their friendship, now that she was 20, on another work travel, this time on Queens, she met spider-man, and befriended him as well.

She kept making friends and friends, finding comfort in their presence, a little breath after the storm of unfortunate events on her life.

However, shortly after that, tragedy struck again. Her brother, who was just walking to school, when a villain, known as "Black Shaman" had gotten information of Kit, attacked. Kit appeared and fought him, but he knocked her unconscious and then derribated a column agaisnt Manu.

When she woke in a hospital and found out about her brother, she became silent and her self-esteem got lower than usual. However, nowadays she's still fighting for good, and having fun with her friends.

THE DAGGER

[wuxiaphoenix]

Worldbuilding: To Pet is Human

I am bemused. Because of this vid.

Water droplet on jumping spider.

...If there’s something pettable or that can be played with, humans will try to do it. Big, small, fur, feathers, scales, way too many legs - some human, somewhere, somewhen, will give it a try. Because we are just Like That.

This is something that needs to be considered in your worldbuilding. And not just in the “give the Evil Overlord a mini-monster for his shoulder” way. Dragons terrorizing fortresses? Someone’s going to go looking for eggs to hatch. Tiny piranha-forms in your alien colony’s streams? Guarantee you someone will set up an aquarium and start breeding them for colors and patterns. Intelligent slimes in the sewers? Okay, that one’s trickier, but I’d bet someone would set up cameras and try to see if you can lure it into a maze with tasty candy treats a la Pacman ghosts.

Play is a normal, generally healthy, human behavior. It seems to be normal behavior for a lot of intelligent creatures; everything from horses playing Frisbee with dogs to foxes finding abandoned toys to octopi stealing cameras to take pictures of divers. If you’re going to have intelligent creatures in your story, even if they’re generally man-eating monsters, then every once in a while you should be able to see one doing something utterly ridiculous. Because it’s fun.

Every once in a while your characters should get the chance to be ridiculous, too. Though that’s more a matter of personal taste. I, for one, like to see my heroes sometimes laying water balloon traps or throwing sticks for the nearest animal that wants to chase and pounce them. It shows a side of them that isn’t obsessed with whatever the Monster of The Week or latest apocalypse is doing. Because most of life is not the monster or apocalypse, and it feels better for me if heroes have to get through a little normal life too, in a fluffy way. Your preferences may vary.

You can, of course, always use it as a note to indicate a character is a bit unhinged and potentially the hidden villain. Because who gives sharks a nice scratch, squeals in joy over momma scorpions with tiny baby scorplings, or cuddles up with crocodiles, snakes, or skunks?

(Yes, people have done all of these. Though I recommend descented tame skunks if you go that route. And keep them up to date on their rabies shots.)

So. Yeah. Think about what your characters or the people around them may think is adorable. And then show them trying to pet it....

[lifesteal-headcanons]

Something Small (Part 5)

Except it’s 11:12 PM and I’ve given myself permission to go nuts and elaborate on the “incident w/ Clown” that I mentioned in like, my second ask/part 2. Anyways, let’s start before I end up leaving this ask in the back of my mind. Again.

So there’s this ‘little’ thing with hybrid in which their own instincts can somewhat cause other hybrids (especially those of the same type) to have their own instincts come to the front, if that makes sense. To give an example, if two Avians hybrids are preening one another; while the other is completely out of it and riding an instinctual wave(from being preened), the other might be making more vocal “bird noises” and more (to a lot) more inclined to participating in hybrid behaviors like nesting and such. If say the other avian, for whatever reason, didn’t want to let the other into their nest, it wouldn’t be unsurprising -nor uncalled for- the other avian to make a nest next or nearby to the other avian. Though, like most things in life, the amount hybrids will be affected by things such as their instinct and this ‘instinct’ ride is very much varied. Some people within the MC universe should take well with a lesson of it.

Now just pair a Vulture hybrid who tends to get widely overwhelmed by their hybrid instincts and a shapeshifter who is easily affected by others instincts, and you’ll have yourself a ClownPierce and a Branzy.

Something that Branzy did learn after accepting the “oh I’m a shapeshifter” thing is that while they very much struggle to shift on command, they do shift to match a hybrid type when someone is having a day/moment where their hybrid instincts are either more prevalent or more in control. They actually “cheat” the system so to speak, when they want to transform back into a shark hybrid, they’ll go spend time with Midmysticx because normally her instincts will flair up when hanging around other people. Either way, Branzy is a whitetip reef shark and Mid’s a blacktip reef shark, I am not taking questions at this time (/j). Back on track though.

Now something that Clown pretty much kept under lock and key was the fact that it is a Cinereous Vulture hybrid. Parrot knew because Parrot had to as server admin, and whoever was acting doctor on the server would know if a situation ever would arise for them to need to know, however no one knew. Minus one other person of course, who is the reason why Clown hid its wings for as long as it did. That person, is Vort3xDragon (and I’m apologizing now if this is ooc! I have only watched maybe 1 of his videos. But my brain picked Vortex for this and is not letting go.)

Now preening for some Avian hybrids can be seen as a way to bond, being used as way to either build or mend a relationship. There still has to be some trust involved, but seeing as not every Avian hybrid is going to have access to their flock 24/7, some will use the opportunity to try and build a closer friendship with people by giving them the chance to preen their wings. It’s basic self-care and showing people you trust them, win-win right? That aside, when Clown came to Parrot asking if either he or someone he recommended could preen them (as they weren’t fully ready to let MOB do it), Parrot kinda jumped at the opportunity. Clown and Vortex, while friends, were constantly bickering and bantering with each other to the point of “this doesn’t seem all that friendly anymore” and was kinda edging on the point of arguments, so Parrot suggested it and Clown tentatively agreed to letting Vortex preen him.

The inter moment started rocky as well, with the atmosphere being tense af. Clown was very much riding a stress and anxiety high and wasn’t really responding well to any of Vortex’s attempts to break the tension and it only got worse when the preening actually started. See, Vortex (being at the time human) never got the memo on “not every hybrid reacts the same way to things as those of the same hybrid type/species would” and made a pretty damn big mistake. See while Parrot would just lie down content while being preened and chirp an coo on occasion an just take everything in, Clown gets overwhelmed by its instincts and emotions very quickly when being preened. And that tends to lead to Clown crying, hard.

(Parrot would much much later, after learning about what happened, theorize that it had something to do with the fact that Clowns wings normally are just more sensitive than most Avian Hybrids and that being paired with its anxiety/stress from everything and the fact it was it’s first time being preened from somebody outside it’s flock and they didn’t trust Vortex as much as they thought they did, made their instincts and emotions go a lot more haywire than normal. Clown’s flock says “it normally cries while being preened, and that’s okay! Fuck you if you say otherwise!”)

Now Vortex, not even halfway through Clown’s first wing yet and realizing that Clown is very crying, makes just about the worse decision he could’ve. No matter how light teases were originally meant to be, they still came out with overwhelmingly harshness and kept coming for much too long. Clown pretty much ended up shutting down for the remainder of the preening session and only moved from where they were on the floor awhile after Vortex left to curl up in their nest.

(Vortex would very much be kicking himself later on for not catching onto the fact he fucked up immediately while the session was happening. The signs were there, Clown very much wasn’t making noise anymore. Not to mention there was times it was like it’s wing would flinch or try to pull away from his hands as he was working through. He ended up apologizing multiple times to Clown, though Clown is still trying to work it out in their head whether or not they 100% forgive him or not. The inter situation was somewhat traumatizing for them and it’s a lot to process even still.)

After the session, Clown was pretty much convinced that it’s wings (and by extension, it’s hybridness) was a weakness and would only lead to it getting hurt and it overall being seen as weak because (it’s a shitshow, and I can’t figure out how to word it, but crying and macho toxic masculinity ideals is involved here. Clown was viewing emotions like crying as a weakness to a big extent) It constantly kept its wings bound underneath its clothing and didn’t tell anyone about the wings after that. It also didn’t fucking preen themselves! Like at all! It was so worried about the extremely off chance of someone finding it’s base and that even letting themselves process certain emotions and letting itself cry was a bad thing! Needless to say, it’s mental health was a shitshow throughout seasons 2 and 3 because of it. If Branzy hadn’t accidentally have managed to find out about it’s wings, it probably wouldn’t have told them despite them being in a serious relationship and Clown considering Branzy apart of its flock by that point.

Needless to say, Branzy was quick to gently (but serious and firmly) get onto Clown’s case about it and Clown ended up letting Branzy preen them. It was still a very overwhelming experience overall for Clown and still lead to them breaking down very bad during the process. Except this time an overall positive experience and lead to Clown’s hybrid instinct addled brain very much happily cuddling Branzy after it all (and unknowingly) preening Branzy back after Branzy finished its wings. Branzy ended up learning the hard way that Clown tends to head butt while being preened, and that you should either have it take its mask off or wear a fabric one if your preening them.

Either way, Clown was very fucking confused to wake up the morning after being preened to find it’s Shark Boyfriend very much no longer a shark and very much a bird like itself.

Also, something fucking stupid but I’m refusing to not mention it, Ivory and Rasplin were Clowns only flock before LifeSteal and they pretty much had a system down when it came to Clown’s preening time. One of them would lay down with clown, holding them up for the person who would actually be going through the feathers. Rasplin was normally held up Clown because Ivory had an easier time getting stuff (like gravel) out of Clown’s wings without accidentally yanking or bumping into clowns overly sensitive feathers though.

Either way, it’s uh 3:23 AM. My phone has gone from 97% to 49%. And my face hurts. I am sorry if there’s any typos or such cuz I think I’m going to cry if I keep going for much longer. Which also, sorry for essentially kinda just dumping a hysterically long ask in your ask box again,,, uh anyway, have a nice night/morning??

That’s it, that’s the ask!!

[sakebytheriver]

I'm gonna be real with you all for a second and say the reaction this website and the internet in general had to the news that the number of men under 30 are not having sex has tripled in the last few years was absolutely disgusting and I am disappointed in you all for being so dumb as to not realize there is more to this than just one man isn't getting some pussy

Like I get that it was a Vaush tweet that brought this to your attention and Vaush is well, Vaush and we could talk for hours about him but he's not the focus rn. And also he was fucking right. This is a problem. Like I don't think it's a bad thing to say that there is a problem with the fact that men under 30 are now having issues connecting with people and making meaningful relationships with women. Like this is not a "men think they're entitle to sex" situation this is a "there's something going on with how young men are being socialized by our society" situation. If this was an individual case and not like a well documented problem that is affecting an entire subsection of the male gender then it would be different, but we can't just chock it up to an indiduval incel sitting alone in his basement playing COD 24/7 eating his hot cheetos and drinking his mountain dew who hasn't touched a stick of deodorant in years or whatever other stereotype you had in your brain when you first saw that statistic, because it is not. This is just another part of the isolating and lonliness of patriarchy that says if a man cannot get a woman it is his fault, that there is something inherently wrong with him, something in him is bad and wrong and broken and it is all his fault and not the societal pressure put upon them to be this idealized version of what patriarchy thinks a "real man" is.

A leftist streamer, Shark, posted the most milquetoast little tweet about how he has personally experienced this isolationg experience of finding that dating and connecting to other people in this day and age was really difficult and so he's found it easier to just give into the isolation and not connect to people anymore. And every single comment under his tweet was telling him he was a loser who should just kill himself and stop complaining about being a bitchless virgin

Like bro.

If you saw someone lamenting their own lonliness and your instinct is to tell them to just kill themself well, sorry comrade but I think you might be the problem and I don't think you belong on the left

The isolation and the lonliness and the fact that young men under 30 are not able to connect with people and have sex/intimacy with others is all a combination of the isolation of late stage capitalism mixed with the compounding factor of patriarchy telling men to stuff their feelings down and not to be emotional and that a "real man" deals with his problems in silence on his own or he sticks a gun in his mouth and blows out his brain before he can make his lonliness anyone else's problem. And for all of you to just dogpile that clearly alarming statistic that speaks to more than just the amount of sex these men are having and say that all of the men who reported not having sex were just a bunch of entitled whiny little bitchboys who think they have a right to have sex with women's bodies as if that was even the point of that statistic at all is absolutely abhorrent behavior and I think you need to take a step away from the computer for a while and contemplate why that was your first initial reaction to the news and ask yourself if you might be contributing to the problem rather than helping with solutions. Once again the internet needs to learn reading comprehension and what statistics actually mean to the greater scope of society before jumping to conclusions about the worst most bad faith rebuttals possible

Stop letting dumb manhating TERFs and MRA alpha males pollute your politics to the point where you can't have sympathy for the other 50% of the world's population smh

[xtrablak674]

[Originally posted on Live Journal on Wednesday, May 17th 2000 at 12:43am, edited for clarity]

When you first walk into my apartment it smells tart. I know exactly what it is, but it still feels foreign. Its the chemical reaction that this neutralizer had to the paint peeler I am using, I have burned some incense to rectify the problem. It's 12:13am and I have just returned back from the movie, and other then the entire cast of The Best Man being in it, I enjoyed it.

Now I am chilling eating a butterscotch krimpet kake by TastyKake, my fingers still a little sticky with pineapple juice from the fruit I stopped and picked up after the movie. On my list of to-do's this evening other then doing this journal entry, which I really hope is going to help me find my writing voice again. I have to finish my application to the White Institute, I think I have completed it. I am happy with it as I can get with it and pleased this time I actually completed it. YEAH!

Anastasia is waiting patiently at my left, looking for an opportunity to jump on my lap. Since I am going to be on the computer for a bit I am opening tabs for my online friends, including johncamlive, christiangrantham.com, keithcam, and Pecsjockcam to whom even though I think he hates my guts I still watch religiously. I am an obsessive voyeur, but I guess its more interesting living other peoples lives then your own. (mental note: go back and make the links live of those site you mentioned)

Anyway, I am stuffing myself of this kake you would think I have never seen food before, and its not like my waistline need it. UGH! I have to send Jeff an email about the gym and his being my personal trainer. I really need to do some exercise other then pointing and clicking the mouse and tickling the keyboard. Too bad you can't get exercise thru you fingers cause if you did I would be such good shape :)

I have so much going on I don't know what to write about and what not to, I guess I should just continue stream of conscious until I am pooped and will do something else. I wish I could say I was horny, but I am not, I have really had NO sex drive lately, I don't know what that is all about, maybe its a good thing. There is one guy I have sex drive for and thats Tony the guy I am dating. He seems to be the only one who can get me horny or get me thinking about sex. Which is upsetting to me cause then it feels like I am committing more to him and I don't sort of want to. (mental note, put picture of Tony in journal)(mental note: begin researching new web host)

But anyway, I guess part of it is I spend so much time alone, which in away I enjoy since I don't like too much drama, but in other ways it gets a little tired, and I sometimes need outside stimulation other then the controlled environment of my DSL-jacked in all-the-time internet connection.

I am chilly let me put on a jacket, hold on...

Anyway....

So much is goin on with leaving kbp [kirshenbaum bond & partners] and all... its a little anti-climatic cause I won't let anyone do any big "to do" about me leaving, I am not trying to go out like that, I just want to be out, you know what I am saying I have been at the agency like goin on 4 years and its just time to get out in creation.

Its not goin to be easy and I know that the same kind of dysfunction that I got away with at kbp I am not going to be able to get away with at SFI, and I know it, and they are paying me nice cheddar so I can't be acting up... Well I can act up a little bit...

I have to speak briefly on my protégé Rob McFarland who I am leaving to the sharks, its so funny how your life can have so many mirrors about it. Rob is like a mirror to Choan my younger brother, who I am now not speaking to after his threatening me and disrespecting me over the phone, a kind of behavior I will not tolerate.

Anyway, Mr. McFarland (thats how I always refer to him) was telling me today he was so upset with me for leaving that he could punch me, which I just find so amusing. Rob like Choan is younger then me, Rob by 4 years at least compared to the two of Chaon, same general complexion as Choan paper-bag tan brown, and hot tempered. I do hope Rob will work on his temper and his anger, he has so much in him to give. I am hardly one to talk, I am quite overdue for some therapy myself, but I just hope he will be able to work well with the next people he has too. It was a blessing to both of us to work together, his being straight and my being the queerest thing since polyester. It made for a good challenge.

I actually had doubts about whether I could work with him or not, cause he was so straight and obviously homophobic (just like Choan) But his work was very tight, which allowed me to accept his learning curve... :) I am very happy to have hired him and to allow him the voice to get a better initial offer then what I offered, the boy has got skills he just needs to focus and he will do just fine.

I hope they will challenge him more then they did me. But time will tell. I think I should wrap up cause this is a long as entry and my fingers are getting tired and I do want to wrap up a few things, like checking the IMDB for the cast list of Love and Basketball and compare it to the one for The Best Man both of which Spike Lee was the producer for...anyway till next time. Peace&Blessings

[Wow, this is twenty four years ago! #NoWords The thing that was most surprising in revisiting this entry is the fact that I deliberately hired a homophobic assistant. It speaks to how clearly I prioritized my obligations to my race over those of my sexual identity. If I recall, I think I had a huge part in the final decision of who would be working under me, and I knew that it would be someone Black. I think I also wanted to pay forward the opportunity I was given having this corporate America job, which can be a very hard space for folks of color to thrive in.

I am blown away that Mr. McFarland thought it was remotely appropriate to threaten violence towards me in the work place, but as I recount at the time I was conflating my professional relationship with the personal relationship of my younger sibling. This is probably why I gave him a huge berth to basically be rude and inappropriate.

The other thing I actually like in this post is the nuance and detail. I am talking about the smells in the room, the taste of the food also the asides about other tasks I need to do. I was hoping to find my voice and I think my voice is very evident in the way that I recorded my feelings that evening. It feels like a time machine trip to that moment in my past where my life was in turmoil as I was leaving the security of one position and taking a risk on the dot-com era career jumping.

My gamble would ultimately not pay off, me being let go with basically the entire staff of the New York office. But this would lead me to my next journey which was me running my own branded website and identity materials firm.

A couple of explanatory commas, The William Alanson White Institute was an institution for training psychoanalysts and psychotherapists which also offers general psychotherapy and psychoanalysis. It is located in New York City, United States, on the Upper West Side, in the Clara Thompson building. It was founded as a protest against the mainstream of American psychoanalytic thought, which was thought to be sterile, dogmatic, and constrictive by the psychoanalysts who founded the institute. - via Wikipedia

I would soon thereafter start therapy with Dr. Anita close by in Park Slope. The therapy ultimately ended because in the corporate world I had such antagonistic relationships with whyte women, that I didn't really think I could find healing with a person who idealized for all intensive purposes my mortal enemy.

During Internet 1.0 webcam sites were very very popular along with reality TV shows like Big Brother, watching other people lives twenty-four hours a day every day was just huge. I was caught up in this trend preferring to watch other queer people, sometimes having multiple window open at a time. I have so many screen-grabs from this period, where it wasn't streaming video but more a refreshing picture every few seconds.

Twenty four years ago I had no idea what would become of this journal I was keeping. I don't even think I could visualize my future-self well enough to know if I would appreciate these missives or not. But I do, continually I am always proud of my past-self and the very good decisions I have made, I am not always saying the results were ideal, but the essence of the intention always shines through.

Photo by Brown Estate]

[violetsystems]

Some of my neighbors are participating in performance art that seems to act like they know everything about my life down to the jobs I apply for and are under a background check for. Acting like they are the police which at this point I already know who the police are. It'd be dumb of me not to. Since some of those jobs are government related I kind of wonder who they think they are. If they really believe they're going to get away with that level of targeting and intimidation who knows? It is Chicago for the record and I'm sure everyone is bored about me writing about it over and over again. But honestly if you are that amateur about it then it just means you are nothing special to write about online. I don't have any plans for the holidays at all really. I spent one Christmas and thanksgiving in Japan. Two different occasions. I'm sure somebody will go do a background check on those. China and Korea too. Always alone. Wandering around with no plans exploring. Makes up for the fact that I'm basically held hostage in my own neighborhood by freaks. I'll be fine for the winter but I just think people should know that realistically what I'm going through isn't normal at all. And I'm fully aware how badly it has jumped the shark. I figured I'm supposed to understand this is what you go through when you mean something to somebody. I just don't really know what to do other than pay bills and ignore the haters. This block definitely isn't Hollywood and yet people act like they can be famous for clowning me every time I step out the door. The world is getting more dangerous though and if you keep acting like you can dump on someone so much because they aren't famous? You actually make them more famous than they could ever be just trying to be seen. I don't need to do anything to be famous anymore. Just proving people wrong is good enough. Without me to use every second of my life in public these people have no real purpose at all. Maybe they're trying to be film makers. Maybe they're trying to start a revolution. It'd be incredibly boring if I just disappeared and moved to Shanghai or something. Not like I'm not applying for jobs over there, here and everywhere. And having my neighbors following me around in an intimidating and bullying fashion dressed in shirts from the university I'm under a background check for since August seems incredibly illegal and fucked up. There's such a thing as oversight to a point and subtlety is not this particular group of terrorist's forte. Diehard was a Christmas movie. So maybe this is just my own personal Nakatomi Plaza. But if you asked me point blank what I thought was going on with my life? I'd tell you I'm under duress with no clue. So no need to write about it too deeply like I have in the past. I figure somebody is going to get caught conspiring eventually. And if they don't then it's the same shit for me really. Nobody cares who these people are unless you fuck with my good name. So without me a lot of people are nothing. Less stressed out than usual about it for the time being. But I have no idea what's going on other than people practicing how to get away with domestic terrorism. If anyone thought that was a problem they would have handled it by now. So I'll handle it my own way by kiting it all into a brick wall one day at a time. At least then somebody can actually say I did something good for the world. Don't let it ever be said there's no consequences for bad behavior. It is just that sometimes you have to take the good with the bad to prove you are worth more.

[centerforhci]

Why I’m A Hypocrite And My Challenge With Mental Energy

I’m a hypocrite. There, I said it.

Leadership, both personal and professional, is an energy game. But it takes more than physical energy for peak performance. Leaders need abundant physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual energy to manage their stress and perform their best. And just like professional athletes, leaders need to train properly, regularly and on purpose to achieve the results they’re after. I help leaders do just that in Lunch & Learns, half-day workshops and even 8-week online courses.

So here I was—teaching leaders how to balance their energy—yet grinding my teeth at night. Waking up in the middle of the night with my heart racing, thinking about work and then getting up at 3am to answer emails. Snapping at my team for no reason, putting undue pressure on them.

I’m Good at Talking the Talk, But I Haven’t Been Walking the Walk

I was not walking the walk and practicing my own teachings. It was time to step back and assess what was going on. I was totally out of whack! So I did an energy assessment of myself, just like I would for a client.

My Physical, Emotional, Mental and Spiritual Energy Level Assessment

• Physical: I eat well and exercise regularly. My recent check-up showed that I had the physical energy of someone a decade younger.

• Emotional: My EQ is fairly high. When I’m not stressed, I can manage difficult situations and people with empathy and patience.

• Spiritual: I know my values and refer to them regularly.

• Mental: I have the attention span of a flea; I can’t focus on anything for more than a few minutes, and my brain is on constant overdrive. No surprise that this is my weakest area. In fact, my husband calls me a shark, because I literally can’t sit down for more than an hour without jumping up to do something.

I Have the Attention Span of a Flea

Hmmm.. this is going to be a challenge. Ask me to run a marathon and I’ll train daily for it. Tell me to go gluten-free and I’m on a baking frenzy. Offer me the chance to work with emotional teams and I can’t wait. Tell me something ‘can’t be done’ and I will find a solution or at least a work-around. Yet, invite me to sit and read a book? I read the first chapter and then the last chapter (no joke) to save time. Buy me a cuppa? I’ll start getting antsy after 30 minutes. So working on my mental energy to improve my focus is going to be hard.

Very hard.

My Shark-Like Behavior Was Impacting My Family and Team

Yet I had to do it. Not only was my shark-like behavior impacting my sleep, it was also impacting my team and family. In addition, I felt like a total hypocrite. It’s like Ellen Page saying she had to come out while filming Freeheld; I can’t teach energy management and not practice it myself.

So where to begin on this journey?

I Started With My Limiting Beliefs

First, I had to look at my limiting beliefs, or the things I thought were true that held me back from changing my behaviors. In general, our society is addicted to activity, and rewards constant busyness. We applaud the person who pulled the all-nighter; we recognize the person who stayed late to get the job done. Yet there is no such fanfare for the person who leaves at 5pm; in fact, those people are ridiculed in certain organizational cultures as weak or not team players. In addition, it’s frowned upon to take all your vacation time or take any downtime at all.

This perception is problematic for many reasons but one of those reasons is factual. The University of California put out some interesting research on the upsides of downtime. The research says:

“You can’t think without space. If you’re always doing something, there’s no way to get anything new into your mind; there’s no way to reach new conclusions.”

Why? Because unstructured time stimulates the ‘default mode network’ part of the brain, where creativity and problem solving happen. When we perform any task at all, no matter how small, our brain switches to the ‘executive network control’, which is related to deductive reasoning. So it’s when we sit back and let our minds wander, that the creative ‘default mode’ kicks in.

Even Though I Fully Knew the Benefits of Downtime, I Was at Super-Shark Speed

My limiting belief was that ‘downtime is for wimps’. The research proved me wrong. My mind was buying into the idea but my body was resisting. Even though I fully knew the benefits of downtime, I was at super-shark speed, racing around the house to get things done.

What would I tell a client in my position? I’d tell them they needed to practice downtime.

I’m a kinesthetic learner, which means I need to touch something to learn it well. So I had to find a role model to physically, literally show me what down time looks like. I had no idea how to ‘do’ downtime.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to look too far: my husband. He cherishes his downtime; I don’t mean just an hour here or there. He is fully committed to detox Sundays, where he just kicks back and reads the newspaper…the old fashioned thing made from trees. He totally unplugs and sometimes won’t even get in a car.

I Started My Practice Small, Slowly Building Mental Muscle

So I started small. I sat down for 15 minutes to read a magazine. Then I got up to plan my work for the week. Then I sat down for 20 minutes to close my eyes on the couch. Then I jumped up, feeling guilty that I hadn’t wrapped the holiday gifts. Then I allowed myself to watch a TV show, once all the ‘work had been done’. Little by little, week after week, I taught myself to chill. Stare out a window. Pet our cats. Listen to music. Snuggle in bed with our daughter. Sit on a plane without compulsively checking email. It was torture. I wanted to jump out of my skin. I wanted to do something, anything, please give me a task! Yet, I knew that I was slowly building a muscle, just like going to the gym.

I Taught Myself to Chill

And the impact was clear, both at home and work. At home, I was more patient and easier to be around. I stopped grinding my teeth and actually slept through the whole night. At work, I started enjoying writing again. It was no longer a chore. The ideas flowed out of me and actually became my most popular leadership posts, such as this one on surfing and this one on EQ. And my best product ideas and client ideas came from daydreaming out the window.

The best part? I no longer feel like a hypocrite. I’m a leader who inspires other leaders to manage their energy, all of it, for peak performance.

Do you think you need more practice managing your physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual energy? I’d love to hear what challenges you have and how you face those challenges.

Leave a comment below, send me an email, or find me on Twitter.

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[zeitgeniesser]

nemeses are good

a wise old instagram post once told me: when you are annoyed at someone, how much of yourself do you see in them?

Boom. Gotteem. But forreal, I'm here for the spice, and the spikes, and the spite. Nemeses are good, baby. Find yourself a dark kermit. Let darkest timeline Abed show you who you really are, and who you really can be. And don't look too hard, they are aplenty in the mundane.

~~~~~~~~~~

Here's the proof. Today at the Y, a prim rose-haired, nails-shellacked, nose ringed, queer-spectrum-ass-punk-ass-White kid pulled his lil tank top wearing punk ass up to the court where I had just put the finishing touches on a W and called next. Sensing something a little unusually electric, and competitively aroused by the princeling interloper, I jumped at the opportunity.

That's the stage setting, but first, some necessary backdrop:

For starters you gotta know I'm pretty decent at basketball. I'm YMCA good anyways. I'll let you place me on your own mental spectrum from amputated dachshund to LeBron.

Second: real recognize real. If you're discerning, you can measure a guy's rote ability pretty fuckin quick. And this dude was busy checking boxes. Legit handle. In-and-out dribble. Drag step. NBA range. Surprising bounce. Quickness. 5'8'' sure, but dangly earrings spoke for his confidence. And beneath the geniality, the high-fives, the lobe-to-lobe smile an icy and unmistakable competitive glimmer.

Third: it takes one to know one. Sure, I don't take it quite the distance as this fuck, but I'm standing there as the only other earringed, tank-topped, big-cheesin, skinny ass, punk ass Whiteboy in the gym. And I also don't like to lose. And certainly not under these circumstances. I get off on being the gangly charming hipster who's also capable of stacking Ws. This is a -- I want to have my cake and eat it in front of you moment. A howdy partner, this town ain't big enough for the two of us moment. That type of shit. I could go on.

~~~~~~~~~~

So the game gets going. He's got his crew, I've got mine. It's not the perfect matchup but we end up guarding each other. I'm a sucker for a little narrative, a little juice, a dose of rivalry. It's conspicuously even. He's quicker, I'm taller. I post his ass up for a bucket. He hits a drag step fallaway on me. I choke out: "nice shot." I block him. He hits a deep three. I hit a deep three. ...

Between the fireworks there's a subtler tug of war happening. A clash of souls. A battle between light and dark. Smug and smugger. Alt and hip and cool and chill and good-at-basketball.

This is about who can win, yes, but it's really about who can win with the most stylistic nonchalance. Because in this flamboyant swashbuckle there is also a particular mantle of cool detachment at stake. The coveted victory that does not debase our personal brands. Brands built on years of breezy Golden Child achievement, "smart-smart" rep, effortless charm, chummy leadership (but NOT the bro-ey Crab Goyle & Malfoy variety), and against-the-grain visual affect. Grimy competitiveness certainly does not comport. But neither does getting run off the floor.

So what will the tone be? The urgency? The physicality of this dance? We let each other know in little ways. He sets an off ball screen on the first play. Daps up a teammate and drops some hoops jargon. "Good weak side rotation. Clean dive." Behavior that to the naked eye looks like nothing, but to a fellow shark sends a signal: I know what I'm doing and I really don't want to lose. Not so fast pal, from the jump I'm on him. Pushing slightly and not so slightly, hand on his ribcage, hard box outs. I'm telling him, I'm bigger than you are and you're gonna have to earn your points today. When he scores on me, even my "nice shot" is loaded. Motherfuckers don't get easy buckets on me because I'm good at basketball. There's a wintry respect in the air.

And then it breaks. We're all knotted up and it's late in the game. Little dude on their team goes up for a rebound. I go up for the same rebound. We both come down with it, four hands on one ball. I call jump. In pickup hoops you can call jump when two fellas are grappling for the ball. Usually stops things from getting messy. Gives possession to the team that didn't start with it. That would've been us. I knew that. Of course I did.

And so did he. I look over, his eyes are blazing through the thin curtains of his usual smug smolder, the cold steel of his septum piercing red with indignity. Seeing no legal challenge, but mad as hell, he storms forward, grabs the ball and proclaims "I'll shoot for it." In pickup hoops this is the equivalent of invoking trial by combat. No matter how sacrosanct the rule in question, you can always opt to leave it in the hands of the basketball Gods.

Well not really. You're fucked if you can't shoot.

He can though, and he drills it. Small recompense. Everyone and their grandma knows what just happened. Just like that, the mirage was shattered.

Salty ass motherfucker. Competitive slimeball. Two faced diva. And the worst yet: tasteless. Among the regular degular hooper crowd there's a special disdain reserved for frequent foul callers (and frequent foulers, which can lead to some dicey situations). Those who lace it up learn to understand the informal glue, the communal decorum, the unwritten expectations, the honor that holds together such a psychosomatic blob of sweat and ego. Beneath the aggression and chirping and competition there's a bond of good faith. Break it, and you might manage to mortgage the L for the asterisk. But the cost is steep.

The interloper had proven himself willing to engage in such a Faustian Verhandlung. In doing so, he exposed himself as worse than competitive. Competitive is a vice we can live with. One we can manage and trim and take for walks out on the basketball court so it doesn't shit all over our amygdala's carpets. But competition must make peace with the sour taste of defeat, the roommate who's existence it might prefer to ignore. And the landlord, your psyche, would do well to acknowledge even their more rowdy, less outwardly presentable tenants.

Which brings this boomerang home. I'm not always proud of my achievement complex, or competitiveness, or high horse but I do well to acknowledge it. Play whack-a-mole and it escapes in geysers of unbearable smugness in victory, and saltily gritted teeth in defeat. Of course, I can always run. Until the universe drops another hint. This kid on the court, this prima-fuckin-donna jabronie fauntleroy schmetterling showed me a mirror and I didn't like it. I don't want to fly so close to the sun, I want to sit in my fuckin swamp water snatching balls out the passing lane with my crocodile jaws, desperately and unashamedly hunting for a win and already at peace with a loss.

[magicbystarlight]

For the #xxxmaxchallange hosted by @lokislastlove & @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Christmas Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No spoilers for No Way Home*

Summary: Someone’s been stalking you for months online. When you think you see them in person, things begin to escalate.

Word Count: 7,449 (it’s a long one)

Warnings: 18+, dark explicit content. Read responsibly. Cyberstalking, noncon/rape, stalking, noncon voyeurism, praise, obsessive behavior, bondage, drugging, kidnapping, Peter in his mid 20s, the OG Aunt May’s house for plot convenience

Parings: Ransom Drysdale x Reader, best friend!Peter Parker x Reader

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

Funny how among the ocean of shoppers, you feel like a prey hunted, a shark swimming somewhere nearby, catching your eye with menace only to disappear once more. At first you thought you were imagining it. Looking for a physical manifestation of your online terror. The one that had driven you off the internet in its entirety outside of the safety of your office a month prior and forced you to go through the tedious and dated practice of holiday shopping in stores.

But as you saw those blue eyes watching you again while you attempted to peruse the cologne for the one you knew your father liked, you knew he was real. The sound of your fingers nervously strumming the glass counter was swallowed by the thick sounds of the busy department store. Panic rose with the bile in your throat. He was real and he was here.

“Hi! Thank you so much for waiting, what can I help you with today?”

The high pitched voice of the woman behind the counter scratched at your ears. ‘Call the police’ you wanted to scream. He was there. Right there.

“Would you mind get–getting me that o–one?” you asked, voice trembling as you pointed towards the scent on display.

“We just sold the last one a bit ago, but I think we received a shipment this morning with it. I’ll be right back!” She was gone before you could stop her. Out of all the days to get a sales clerk who actually had more in the back and the time to look.

It couldn’t be him. The man was tall, broad chested, handsome with his blond hair slicked back. Combined with his neat appearance, he clearly was not the type to spend hours upon hours hovering over a computer screen.

At least, you hoped he wasn’t.

Besides, the police hadn’t taken the online harassment seriously. “Just some kids messing around,” Captain Stacy had tried to insist. Nearly everyone in your life had thought you were blowing things out of proportion because whoever was tormenting you was smart. Anything truly terrifying they sent you was scrubbed from your computer long before anyone else could see: images off your webcam, videos of you taken from the front camera of your phone while you scrolled aimlessly online, banking details, recorded phone calls between you and your friends. All gone.

You’d tried to record the evidence, but they got that too. Hell, you’d gone as far as getting an old school video camera to capture anything. But they knew. They were patient, waiting until they knew you wouldn’t have the camera within reach before sending you a quickly disappearing message. If it wasn’t for Peter’s reassurances, you would have thought you were crazy just like everyone else was beginning too.

“Picking something out for your boyfriend?” You jumped at the voice beside you, too consumed in your own thoughts you hadn’t noticed that he had arrived. He was taller than you thought, a man of solid muscle.

“Dad,” you corrected. The regret was immediate. You should have lied. Agreed.

The man smiled a dazzling smile down at you. “I’m Ransom,” he said, extending his hand. The name of your grandmother rolled off your tongue, a lie this time, as you shook the oversized hand. You dropped it quickly, gaze falling back to the various bottles on display. “A beautiful name."

"Thank you."

The sales clerk appeared again, an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry, I confused the scents. Looks like we're all out. Is there anything else I can help you find today?"

"No," you said quickly, backing away from both the counter and the man. Ransom's face was contorted in confusion as he watched you nearly trip in a rush to get away. There were complaints from the people you stumbled into, but you ignored them as you fled.

You shut yourself in a stall of the first bathroom you came across, trying to calm your pounding heart. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. Could it?

From your pocket, you pulled out the old style flip phone you’d resorted to using to avoid the internet. You scrolled to the one name on the list who would understand, hesitating only a second before pressing call.

It rang once.

Twice.

In the middle of the third, they answered. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah–actually no. Can I–can I come over?”

Peter’s apartment was small, though maybe not by New York standards. The kitchen was outdated by a few decades, separated from the living room by a thin counter, and with barely enough space to open the oven. The living room itself was just big enough for a couch and coffee table. It wasn't much, but Peter was fond of the place.

“Thanks,” you said as he handed you a warm mug. The steam rose, the heavenly scent of the rich chocolate caressing your nose.

“Are you going to call Stacey?” he asked as he sat next to you on the couch, cradling his own mug.

Sipping the drink, you winced at its temperature. Too hot. “No, it’s not like he’d believe me anyways.” You blew on the drink and settled further into the couch. “Besides, I’m sure it was just me being paranoid, you know? Whoever’s hiding behind the screen, watching like some fucking creep, wouldn’t have the balls to come up to me like that in public. And I doubt they look like a Captain America look-a-like.”

“Yeah, probably just a shit coincidence.” Peter nodded, sipping from his own mug. “I’m still convinced it’s the old dude. What was his name? Baker?”

“Beck,” you reply, trying the drink again. Still too hot. “No, Quentin broke up with me, remember? Why would he stalk me if he could just call me up again? And he wasn’t that old.”

Peter cleared his throat, setting down his mug on the coffee table right next to the latest printed edition–Peter had a fascination with the outdated form of communication–of The Daily Bugle and it’s headline questioning where Spider-Man had gone.

As if their constant criticism of him hadn’t probably helped to drive him away. “Wasn’t the age gap the reason you broke up? What was it he told you?”

“‘If we had been closer in age maybe it would have been fine.’” God, you hated that line. It had come out of nowhere, you thought everything had been going great. In the moment it had made you want to die. Really messed up your birthday, too.

“He was an idiot. And creepy.”

“Yeah, well, maybe. But he’s definitely not a stalker.” He had a new girlfriend, anyway. Younger than you, too. And her Instagram aesthetic was gorgeous.

“I really don’t want to sit here and give more theories on who it could be. I probably haven’t even met the person it is, you know? Just someone with too much time on their hands. They’ll give up soon, find someone else to harass.” You didn’t believe a word out of your mouth but you were tired of constantly thinking. Peter’s place was safe. A few hours with a friend just existing were needed.

His hand fell on your knee and gave a friendly squeeze. “I’m sure they will.”

A week went by and there was no sign of whoever was stalking you. Not that you left much of a chance for them to leave a message, sticking to your aversion of anything connected to the internet. But it was reassuring and you looked over your shoulder a little less each day.

“I’ll be there the twenty third. What time works best for you?” you asked into the receiver of the payphone.

“Well,” your father said, sounding far away and staticky, “Ryan and Josh will both be here by then so if I can’t pick you up, one of them can go get you.”

Disdain laced your voice, though you tried to keep it out. “I was hoping to see you first. Have a little bit of time just the two of us.” You didn’t hate your stepbrothers, but you sure as hell didn’t like them either. “So what time is best for you?”

There was a long sigh and you knew he wanted to give a lecture. ‘They’re family.’ But he held his tongue. “I can be there anytime after four.”

“Perfect. I’ll take the two p.m bus. Should get there around five.”

“You’ll have your phone on you?”

You smiled tightly into the phone. He and your stepmother had voiced their opinions on your supposed stalker and the lengths you had taken to avoid them. “Yeah, I will. Gotta go, I love you.”

“Love you, too. Bye, sweetie.”

The phone clicked as you set it into place, the Port Authority Bus Terminal around you as busy as ever. Going home for the holidays had seemed like such a good idea. Get out of the city, away from the bustle of people.

But it wasn’t home. It never had been. When Dad remarried and moved the two of you out of Queens to live with Glenda and her two sons in Albany during your sophomore year, it had felt like a part of you had died. Staying there through university because you couldn’t afford anywhere else crushed what was left of your soul.

But the second you graduated three years ago and got a job, you moved back to the same community you grew up in. Up until a few months ago when the first messages started trickling in, Queens was home.

Now you really weren’t sure where home was, if it even still existed. If you left New York, moved to another big city or maybe a smaller town, and found a place you loved, would you ever be able to exist without the fear of being watched?

Yes I will, you thought. They would give up. You would move on. Things would be fine. You wouldn’t even have to leave home for it. It would just take time.

Buying the bus ticket for the trip in a few days and catching the E train, you let your mind wander to work. There you still had an inkling of control thanks to a boss who had little idea what the hell he was doing.

Those thoughts took over through the first train ride and the transfer to the F line, taking a seat looking out the window. So lost in thought that you didn’t notice the giant presence that took up the seat next to you until it tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey.”

Just as the first time you’d heard his voice, you jumped, clutching at your heart. Ransom. Ransom.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, looking down at you and resting an arm on your seat behind you. “Called your name a couple times out on the platform but I guess you didn’t hear me.”

You shook your head, heart pounding in your chest. A coincidence. Had to be. Had to. “Yeah, sorry.” God he was massive.

“It’s alright sweetheart. Seeing you again made me having to take this stupid train worth it. Besides, it seems like you got a lot going in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Yeah.”

“Explains why you ran out so fast when we met.” His blue eyes sparkled and your stomach churned. “Left before I could ask you to dinner.”

Could he not see the terror in your face? “I’m not, um, really dating. Right now.”

He seemed taken aback by the rejection. A wide smile pulled across his face in spite of it. A shark showing its teeth. “Oh come on. A dinner can be between friends, can’t it?”

“Really, I–I’m very busy. Don’t, uh, don’t have a lot of time for friends either.” The wall of the train chilled the sleeve of your sweater, but you couldn’t help pressing further into it. There was blood in the water and you were drowning in the middle of it.

“Sweetheart, you’re starting to hurt my feelings.” He leaned in, his smile faltering ever so slightly. Hot breath rippled through your hair. The proximity allowed you to recognize the scent he was wearing–the same one you had wanted to buy for your father. “Give me your number and we’ll talk about the best night for a date. Friend date, of course.”

The train was slowing with people crowding the door.

“Hey man, she said she’s not interested,” a younger guy sitting in front of you said, heated glare on the tall blonde.

The train came to a halt, the doors opening a moment later. People began to filter in and out.

“Why don’t you mind your own business, huh?” Ransom’s eyes shifted off your face, returning the man’s glare. Whether intentional or not, he leaned away.

You reacted quickly, jumping from the seat and pushing into the crowd. They didn’t part easily for you and pushing against the sea of people was difficult, but you made it out the doors just before they shut.

The train took off.

With trembling hands, you pulled out the phone and dialed.

It only rang once this time.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s him, Peter. It was him,” the words came out in hysterics as you sank to your knees on the platform. “He was on the train!”

“Wow, wow, slow down! Who? Where are you?”

“Ransom,” you choked out. “I’m–”you paused, looking around to find out what station you’d ended up on “–at the Union and Kew Gardens station.”

Despite, or perhaps because of, your obvious distress, no one seemed to pay you any mind. New York truly was a one of a kind place.

“Stay right there. I’m coming to you. Can you stay with me on the phone?”

Peter found you twenty minutes later, legs tucked into your stomach sitting on a bench. His arms wrapped around you with soft, whispered promises that you were safe. Peter was safe.

He kept an arm around you as he ordered an Uber. You couldn’t face the train again. It stayed there through the car ride and up the stairs of the apartment building. And it was there to keep you standing when you saw the door of your apartment hanging open.

Nothing was missing. Nothing seemed disturbed. The police couldn’t even find any signs of forced entry.

“Are you sure you didn’t forget to lock the door?”

Peter was more upset than you. You’d heard them blame you before and expected it. Even as Peter ranted to them about Ransom, the two officers just kept giving each other side eyes. A man who looked like Captain America named Ransom stalking you sounded even crazier out loud.

“You can’t stay here,” Peter said after they left.

“And where am I supposed to go? A hotel? If he can find me here and approach me on a train and in a mall, I don’t think he’ll be deterred by some bullshit security system that he can probably get into anyways.”

Warm circles were rubbed into your back. “What about your dad’s?”

You leaned against him, feeling defeated. “I guess I could. I’ve got plenty of time off saved up at work.” The idea of being stuck in Albany again broke a piece of you. They’d taken so much and now they were taking home.

The hand on your back slowed. “You know, Aunt May’s gone for a while. Some country wide tour for The Salvation Army to help raise funds or something. She wouldn’t mind if you crashed there.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she thinks of you as family anyways.” He pushed away slightly, looking down at you. “And if it’ll make you feel better, I could stay with you. Got some time off saved up too.”

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you. Don’t waste that time on me. You already put up with enough.”

He grabbed your chin, gently pulling your face to look him in the eyes. “Time with you is not a waste, okay? It’d be like an extended sleepover. We can rent bad action films, eat like a ton of junk food like we’re teenagers again, and just take a breather from life. I think we both need that. I know I definitely do.”

“Thanks, Peter. I don’t know how I could have survived any of this without you.” Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into an awkwardly angled hug.

“I’ll always be here for you.”

The first night was rough. You checked the locks three times within the first hour. Set up small objects in the windows that someone climbing in would knock over. Then, for good measure, a chair under the handle of the door in the kitchen that lacked the deadbolt the front had.

Every noise was questioned, leaving you jumpy in an older home like this. Peter was understanding and patient and constantly going into the basement to double check the noises. You offered to go down a couple times but he brushed it off.

“There’s a step just a little too high and I don’t want you tripping and getting hurt. It's good exercise, anyways.”

It got better though.

Peter had kept his promise about the bad action films (May had a large collection) and junk food. He even got down the Christmas decorations and the tree. May was meticulous in taking care of things and most of the decorations were the same as the ones you saw growing up.

It was like being a kid again. Back before you were forced away from the city, when life was good and uncomplicated and Peter was your best friend.

It was Christmas Eve, more than a week into your stay at Aunt May’s, when Peter left for a couple hours. You both needed to eat and your body couldn’t handle another day of phone-ordered takeout. You were still reeling from the encounter with Ransom and staying in a locked house seemed like the lesser of two evils.

But the sounds that merely concerned you before were now making you jump. Every creak and groan had you searching for the nearest weapon. The loudest came from the basement.

The simple wooden door to the basement in the kitchen seemed terrifying, even as you held a heavy black flashlight.

Wait for Peter.

There’s no reason to be afraid. Go.

Wait.

You didn’t have to decide. A knock at the kitchen door and Peter’s muffled voice had you scurrying move the chair out from under the knob and let him in.

He carried in one too many bags, but he merely smiled as you scolded him for it. “If you strain your wrist or pull a muscle, don’t come crying to me,” you mumbled as you began to put away the groceries.

You were reaching for the last bag when Peter suddenly pulled it from your reach.

“I, uh, I got you a present.”

“Here I thought my present was all the time I’ve been getting to spend with you,” you teased.

The boyish grin you adored lit up his face and your heart skipped a beat when he said, “No, no, no. That was my present.” He was just perfect sometimes.

“You’re so cheesy, Parker.”

“And you love it.”

You rolled your eyes, heat rushing to your cheek. “Yeah, yeah,” you said with mock dismissiveness. “Let’s see it then.”

He shook his head, clutching the bag to his chest as you reached for it. “Nope, not yet. I gotta wrap it first.”

“No you don’t.”

“Gotta give you at least one thing to unwrap, don’t I?” His pleading eyes were impossible to resist.

“Fine.”

Peter made you wait as he helped you prepare an actual home cooked meal for the first time in weeks. He made you wait until you’d eaten and cleaned. It wasn’t until he put the last dish away that he headed upstairs to wrap it.

You waited impatiently in the living room, the music of the main menu of the DVD you’d picked playing loudly. He bounded down the steps excitedly, jumping over the banister with a small red rectangle in hand.

“It’s not much,” he said, the couch dipping next to you. “But I thought you would enjoy it.”

You took it greedily, tearing through the paper he’d just wrapped around it to reveal a picture frame. A much younger version of yourself was smiling next to an equally young Peter. Your first high school dance, a couple months into Freshman year. You weren’t dating Flash yet so Peter had taken you.

“It’s why I wanted to wrap it. Had to get the picture.”

You looked at him through watery eyes. “It’s the best Christmas present anyone’s ever given me.”

“I doubt that,” he laughed. “But thanks for the ego boost.”

Sniffling, you wiped away the tears before they could fall. “No, I mean it. This year, these last months especially, have been terrible. But you’ve been so wonderful. You’ve always been. Getting you back in my life was the blessing I needed. So yes, this picture is the best present by far.”

The movie was turned on not long after and you found yourself curled up into Peter’s side, his warmth aiding your drowsiness as it lulled you to sleep. The feather light touch of his lips against your hair was one of the last things you remembered before sleep consumed you entirely. The very last thing you remembered was the content, comforting feeling of being home.

Peter was home.

You woke with a start.

The living room was dark, save for the light of the light of the DVD logo bouncing across the tv. Peter was asleep, his chest rising evenly against your cheek. The house was quiet.

So quiet that the sound of something rattling echoed throughout the house.

You didn’t move. Waiting for something. But nothing happened.

Until it rattled again.

It was nothing, just the noise of an old home. But fear raced through your veins anyways.

Slowly, you extracted yourself from Peter’s arm and sat up straight. The noise came again, and it sounded like it had come from the kitchen.

Creeping across the floorboards, you waited at the doorway between the living room and kitchen. It took a moment to adjust to the darkness and scan the kitchen for anything out of place. Nothing.

The rattle came again and you recognized it this time. It was the same sound as earlier. The sound in the basement.

Go wake up Peter.

Let him sleep. He’s done enough.

He won’t mind.

Stop being afraid. Go.

This time, you decided to just do it. Turning on the flashlight you’d discarded earlier, you opened the door.

The steps creaked heavily under your feet as you descended slowly. The steps all felt the same and you were unable to discern which step you would have to be careful about on the way up. You were surprised to see that the basement had been updated at some point in the last decade. Part of it had been blocked off with a new white wall and a door.

Odd.

Peter hadn’t mentioned it.

The light swung around the rest of the basement, checking each and every crevice to ensure no one was hiding there.

Nothing.

Eventually the light searched the ceiling until it found the rattling pipe. Just like Peter had said. At least you hadn’t woken him up to check.

You shook your head at your own paranoia and went back to the stairs. Sleep would be good. Maybe now you’d get a full night.

But as you looked over your shoulder to ensure nothing was following you in the dark, you saw a soft blue light emitting from under the door.

It’s probably nothing.

Someone’s hiding in there.

Go back upstairs.

Fear got the best of you. The flashlight was heavy in your hand as you held it up in case you needed to use it as a weapon. The knob twisted without resistance and it clicked, swinging open. The sight made your knees buckle beneath you as the flashlight clattered to the ground.

It was you.

Your face plastered over screens, pasted to the wall, scattered across the desk. Pictures and videos that had been taken from your webcam and your front camera. Others from a distance or security cameras. Ones taken in this house.

The worst was the video of your morning shower.

It hadn’t been Ransom at all. The person you had trusted and put all your faith into to help protect you had been the one tormenting you.

“I really wish you hadn’t seen that.”

A scream escaped as you scrambled to your feet. He stood at the bottom of the staircase, leaning against the railing with remorseful eyes. The stairs should have alerted you but you’d heard nothing.

“Peter, what is this?”

The chuckle that rumbled from his chest was familiar, one you'd known for years and found comfort in. It made you sick. “You know what it is."

Accusations stung your tongue and questions burned your throat, but they weren't important. Not now. Now you needed to get out. "I guess I do. I think--I think you owe me an explanation. And maybe some hot chocolate?"

"I knew you would understand." Nausea consumed you at his boyish grin. Home. He was supposed to be home. Extending his hand to you, he said, "Hot chocolate would be good."

The instinct to run was nearly all consuming. But you took his hand, trying not to tremble. It was warm and firm as he led you up the stairs that very much creaked. In the kitchen he released your hand, turning on the light and setting about the task of collecting ingredients. You stood, watching near the still open door of the basement. He was humming something cheery as he chopped a chocolate bar. A Christmas song, but you couldn't discern which.

How could he be so calm, so normal, after what you had just discovered? You were barely containing the panic.

The kitchen seemed to be much hotter, sweat forming on your neck. You cataloged each item within arms reach, trying to see which you could use to incapacitate Peter so you could run. If only you hadn’t dropped the flashlight. Metal clinked as he sat the saucepan on the stove, setting the heat to low as he whisked the milk. Without warning he looked over at you, grin still in place.

"Come 'ere, baby. I think it's time you learn the family recipe."

Go. Pretend. The steps echoed loudly--or maybe it was your heartbeat--as you approached. A hand grabbed your waist when you were within reach, positioning you between him and the stove. The hand slipped to your hip, pulling you back just enough to feel his body against yours.

The other hand took yours, bringing it to the long silicone whisk sitting in the simmering milk saucepan. He closed your fingers around it and began pulling it in circles. "Whisk it for me."

His hand left yours, grabbing the cocoa powder he’d set aside and dumping a few heaping scoops into the saucepan. The dark powder began to mix with the white milk, leaving it almond brown with small clumps of dark brown floating around.

“A little faster,” he said into your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Like this?” you asked. The question was too short to hear the tremble you were sure would be in your voice.

A soft kiss on your shoulder made you tense. “Perfect.”

Before it would set off questions, you resumed stirring. Distract. Distract. He added the chopped chocolate. Sugar. A pinch of cinnamon. His grip on your hip pulled you closer and closer. And he was enjoying it too much.

Incapacitate and run.

Incapacitate and run.

“You did so good,” he cooed. “I’m gonna grab a couple mugs and then we can sit and talk.” As his lips pressed against your cheek and his hand slipped away, you knew what you had to do.

Gripping the handle of the saucepan tightly, you looked over your shoulder and watched him reach into a cabinet. When he pulled two mugs out, a content smile on his face, you reacted.

Hot chocolate splashing over him and the pan hurtling at him was the last thing you saw before you turned and ran.

You didn’t even make it out of the kitchen.

“Why,” he growled into your hair as he pinned you against the wall, “must you make everything so difficult?”

A hand wrapped around your throat and black took over your vision.

Slowly sense seeped in. A rustling somewhere, cold tile against your back, the overwhelming smell of chocolate, a sharp prick on your arm. More humming. Santa Claus Is Coming to Town. You recognized it this time. Then you were dragged back to nothingness.

The world returned, sharp and sudden. There was still pain in your arm. Cold tile had been replaced by something warm and soft. The white plaster walls of the kitchen gone with wooden planks taking their place. Attempting to sit up, the discovery of your hands bound above you thwarted any attempts. They were tied to opposite ends of a metal headboard. The ropes were rough and they seemed to tighten with every pull.

“You’re awake.”

You froze, eyes searching the room until they landed on Peter sitting in a large chair near the foot of the bed you were tied to. He wasn’t covered in chocolate. Nor did he look like he’d been burned. It had been hot enough to at least cause some kind of burn, those took days to heal.

How long had you been out? You were in the same clothes, at least.

“Peter, please, please untie me.”

The laugh he let out was humorless. “So you can throw some boiling liquid on me and try to run away again?” Pushing out of his chair, he stalked over to the bed and sank to his knees near your head. His hand reached out to stroke your cheek. “It’s not like you’d get very far but I’d hate to have to hurt you again.”

The ropes strained and scratched at your wrist as you attempted to pull away. “These ropes hurt,” you replied.

“Consequences of your actions. You were doing so good and you just had to go and mess it up for us.”

You tugged at the ropes again, the emotions you had suppressed before coming back with a fury. “I messed it up? You were fucking stalking me! Watching me every fucking moment of every fucking day!”

“You were living a miserable life. Surrounded by friends and so called family who turned their backs on you when you were so scared. Everyone failed you, even the police. Everyone but me. I was always there and I always will be.”

“You drove them away! You made it look like I was crazy! You don’t get points for believing me about the things you did!”

He pulled himself into the bed and your unbound body moved away. It did little to deter him. His head rested on your shoulder and an arm slid under you to pull you back.

“No no no, baby. They made it seem like that. They didn’t appreciate you and they didn't deserve you.” A finger traced along your jaw and you jerked away again. He sighed heavily, dropping the hand to your clavicle. Worse. Much worse.

“I hated seeing you so scared, I did. But I did what I needed to do. You have no idea what it was like watching you date a bunch of pathetic, worthless guys and everyone just encouraging you when I was waiting so patiently for you.”

You squirmed, trying to get out of his hold, but he held strong. Fingers brushed up and down your clavicle and he moved closer, forehead pressing into the side of yours. “Do you remember how quickly Flash moved on when you moved? Or how Osborn cheated on you? Or Beck treating you like some sort of trophy? I do. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

The rise and fall of your chest quickened. “How did you know about Harry? That–that was in college. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Who do you think sent you the picture?” Tears swelled at the confession. Peter had been watching for a long time.

“And Ransom? Is he a friend of yours?”

His fingers swept lower, just above your exposed cleavage. “He was just a coincidence.”

“When I called, you thought it was about my apartment. That’s why you answered so quickly.”

“My girl’s so smart,” he said, pressing a kiss against your cheek. Something twitched against your hip.

The tears rolled freely down your cheek. “I’m not your girl, Peter. You’ve got–you’ve got to let me go. This isn’t you.”

He was above you in the blink of an eye, arms and legs on either side of your body as he hovered. His expression was so sincere with large doe eyes and worried lines. “Shh, shh, shh. I know, I know. It’s a lot to take in. Being cared for like this after the disappointments before, it must be terrifying. I’m not gonna leave, I won’t get bored. Everything I am is for you. Always has been.”

He leaned in and rested his forehead on yours.

“I love you.”

Your knee jerked up, aiming for the thing between his legs. But he was quicker, his thighs clenching around your leg inches from it’s target. The docile expression turned hard.

“Why can’t you be good?”

He was off you just as quickly as he’d come. Stalking back to the chair, he reached for something in the ground. The position you were tied in didn’t allow you to see, but there was sounds of a zipper and things moving.

Desperately, you pulled at the ropes again. They burned at the skin of your wrist, the metal frame giving nothing.

As he pulled up straight, he stuck something onto his wrists. “I didn’t want to do this, I wanted our first time to be special, but you won’t behave.” His arm raised and you managed a scream before something sticky caught your ankle.

Was that—

He grabbed the white rope-like substance that caught your ankle, wrapping it around the pole at the bottom.

“You recreated Spider-Man’s webbing.” It came out of you as a statement. A fact really.

“No, I didn’t recreate it,” he chuckled, repeating the process on the other leg. The frustration that was just on his face scrubbed away within a blink. “I invented it.”

“You–You know him.”

“You could say that.”

No. No, he couldn’t be. He couldn’t. No.

“How long was I out?”

“About six hours. You were so good on the way here, the IV stayed in the whole time.”

“That’s why you’re not burned. Why you caught me so quickly.” It was more to yourself than him, but he grinned in response nonetheless. Peter Parker. Your–no, not your–Peter, was Spider-Man.

Fuck.

“Like I said,” his hand began to travel up your leg, “my girl’s so smart.”

Over your thigh, a squeeze on your hips, up your stomach, between your breasts.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this.” His other hand came up, gripping the neckline of your shirt tightly. “Too long.”

It tore like it was paper. It probably was to him. Your bra ripped apart a moment later. Pushing the scraps of fabric aside, his eyes roamed over you greedily.

“So beautiful. So much better in person.”

“Peter, please don’t do this.” It came out in a broken sob as he cupped your breast, thumb swiping over the nipple.

It only encouraged him. “Baby, you don’t need to lie to yourself anymore. I saw those stories you liked to read, the ones about Spider-Man. God, watching you touch yourself to stories about me was so fucking beautiful.”

They had just been stories. You never wanted it to happen. You never thought it could happen. Spider-Man was a hero. At least he was before he’d disappeared months ago.

Around the same time the messages and photos started.

His other hand came to the opposite breast, leaning in to take it in his mouth. You screamed and thrashed, but a sharp nip at the delicate bud scared you into quiet stillness. As still as you could be considering how much you were shaking.

It was completely from fear. It had nothing to do with the way he pointed and rolled his tongue. Or the vibrations when he groaned. Or the cold air he blew on it before attaching to the other. It was terror.

“Do you remember the one about me tying you up and having my way with you?” he asked, leaving your heaving chest and straddling you again. “Thought we would work up to that but I guess this is a Christmas present for us.”

He leaned in, his lips aiming for yours, but meeting the skin of your cheek instead. Yanking your face by the chin, he pulled you back. “I’m getting very tired of this game. Be good. Good girls get rewards. Bad girls get punished and I really don’t want to punish you more than I already have with the ropes, okay?”

You wanted to yell and curse and beg but knew it would only make things worse. So you let him press his lips against yours and swallow them. When his tongue demanded entrance, you relented.

A cruel twist of your nipple left you gasping into his mouth. He traveled lower, over the bare skin of your stomach. A fresh wave of panic–yes, yes it was panic you felt, nothing more–swept through you.

“Peter, please don’t,” you begged in a soft whisper as he pulled his lips away.

You weren’t sure he heard you until he slipped under the waistband. “Don’t worry baby, just gonna make you feel good.”

Tears poured. It only took a moment between his finger sweeping through your folds and the euphoric expression spreading across his face for the lie you’d been telling yourself fell apart.

“Fuck,” he groaned, sinking a finger in. “You’re soaking.”

You were.

“I knew, god I knew you wanted this.”

A second finger slid in with the first and they pumped in and out easily. So easily. His thumb pressed into the folds, searching for that one spot.

“N–n–no,” you begged when he found it, your body spasming at the sensation.

“That’s not what your pussy is telling me, squeezing my fingers like you don’t want me to go.”

He circled your clit and your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want this.

But a lewd moan clawed through your defenses as he picked up the pace. The ropes strained against your wrists as you pulled and pulled, trying to get away from his hand. It just followed as it began to move at a seemingly inhuman speed.

“Don’t, please don’t,” you cried. It was coming, that white hot pleasure that you hadn’t felt in months.

“Come for me, baby, make that pretty little face for me.”

It crashed over you, knocking the breath out of you. A wave that washed out the humiliation and fear as you arched into him. Praises and kisses rained as it swirled around you until it was nothing more than your heaving body trying to recover from the hit.

“You’re so beautiful,” Peter said, gently pulling his hand away from your overstimulated core. Reality hit again as he brought the fingers to his lips. He hummed in delight.

You knew what was going to happen next. How he wouldn’t just use your body to chase his own high, but drag as many as he could from you. And then he’d keep you, repeating the process over and over with claims of love, until he got caught or bored.

Your body wasn’t yours anymore and one day your mind might not be either.

If you hadn’t stumbled down those stairs and found that stupid fucking room, Peter would have stayed your hero. Your best friend. The person you were falling for. At least then you would have had the illusion of choice.

“I trusted you. You were home.”

“Home?”

The conflicting feelings for the Peter you knew and the one now in front of you battled as he watched you through furrowed brows. “I only felt safe with you. It didn’t matter where I was just as long as you were there, I was home. I thought you would protect me.”

“I have–I will protect you. Every day. No one will hurt you.” His words were earnest and sincere. He couldn’t see the hypocrisy.

“No one but you.”

The words hung in the air like ice, burning your lungs with the cold.

“I’m sorry.” His hands cupped your face and you were fighting to remember that the Peter you knew was a lie. A facade to hide the villain he truly was. “I just want to make you happy.”

“Then let me go. Please.”

“No, baby, no. You won’t be happy.” His thumbs wiped under your eyes. “Not without me.”

Tears blurred your vision, the bed shifting as something tugged at webbing on your ankle. One leg free. Then the other.

You wanted to go numb when he gripped the waistband of your pants and pulled them down and off your legs.

“I’ll show you, I will. Gonna make you so happy.”

Pushing your thighs wide, his hair tickled the skin as he settled between them. The first lick was hesitant. Barely there. It sent a shiver through you.

“Merry Christmas to me,” he groaned. He consumed you like a man starved. His tongue wide and rough.

Numbness never came. Every touch left you writhing and panting. Hell disguised as heaven.

That tidal wave was rushing through you again, ready to break over you.

Then he stopped.

And you whined.

“Fuck, need to feel you.”

The bed jostled again as he pushed down his own pants and your eyes shut at the large, angry cock mocking you. Peter was over you again, pressing a wet kiss that smelled like you on your lips.

His cocked teased at your entrance, a swipe over your clit causing you to jerk. He sunk in slowly, letting you feel every vein as it stretched you. And fuck did it stretch you.

“Peter, no, please,” you cried as he split you apart. “Too big, it hurts. Please.”

He stilled. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” He reached over you, causing him to sink further and you gasped in pain. “Sorry, so sorry,” he mumbled as he fumbled with the rope, freeing one arm then the other.

They burned from the earlier strain and the likely injection of whatever sedative he’d used. He pulled them around him. “Hold on to me.”

You weren’t going to, you weren’t, but he slammed the rest of the way into you and you gripped him like he was the only thing keeping you from drowning in the pain.

“It’ll get better, baby,” he promised. “Just gotta let you get used to it.”

You could do nothing more than sob into his shoulder as he began to move again. Every stroke felt like it was ripping you apart.

It dulled and dulled until the the pain was replaced by something worse. Your grip turned to nails clawing at his back. Your legs wrapped around his. Your cries of pain to moans of pleasure. His thursts turned harder and more manic and your hips began to work in sync.

“That’s it baby, doing so good, fuck you feel so good. Gonna make me cum.”

His hand slipped between you and found your clit. It was all it took to break the dam. Your body locked around him and he continued to pound into you until you felt his cum coating your walls.

His hips slowed as you came down. When he slipped out, your muscles spasmed trying to grab something that wasn’t there.

“You were amazing,” he breathed. “Feeling you cum on my cock was the best Christmas present anyone’s ever given me.”

Peter lifted you as if you weighed nothing and rolled to have you laying next to him with your head resting on his arm.

Bruises and bloodied cuts covered your wrists. His cum was leaking down your thigh, leaving a trail as it did.

Your eyes landed on the nightstand you hadn’t seen before. The framed photo Peter had given you stared back. His free hand rested against your stomach, rubbing warm circles against it. “Maybe next year you can give me another.”

Dark!All Taglist: @bamboozledflamplant @charmingandfantasticfics @discogrrl @squishytomatoes @brenna-oneil @byelannie @itsccc @vangohvibes @pancakefancake

[noteguk]

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple 

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from. 

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea. 

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids. 

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings. 

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons. 

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon. 

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place. 

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body. 

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.” 

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. 

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect. 

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot. 

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really. 

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?” 

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.” 

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.” 

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.” 

“And what is?” You asked. 

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.” 

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.” 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.” 

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container. 

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.” 

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.” 

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.” 

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?” 

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.” 

He frowned. “Is that your answer?” 

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?” 

“Because I like giving back to the community.” 

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.” 

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.” 

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?” 

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.” 

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.” 

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?” 

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.” 

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?” 

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.” 

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.” 

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment. 

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily. 

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious. 

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“ 

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.” 

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.” 

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully. 

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.” 

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive. 

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.” 

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave? 

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all. 

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.” 

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?” 

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin. 

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.” 

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.” 

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?” 

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly. 

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.” 

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?” 

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?” 

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.” 

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.” 

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.” 

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.” 

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like. 

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening. 

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—” 

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable. 

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.” 

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.” 

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded. 

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought. 

“Turn around for me,” he asked. 

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.” 

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked. 

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat. 

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.” 

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” 

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.” 

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”  

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.” 

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.” 

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface. 

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.” 

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.” 

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.” 

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank. 

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed. 

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?” 

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.” 

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.” 

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you. 

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state.  “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.” 

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his. 

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that. 

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?” 

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways. 

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.” 

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him. 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.” 

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...” 

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.” 

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.” 

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.” 

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.” 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm. 

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat. 

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home. 

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…” 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.” 

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?” 

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.” 

~ 

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises. 

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum. 

You, of course, promptly accepted it. 

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked. 

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.” 

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place. 

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”  

“And, by the way?” 

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time. 

~ 

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