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jincherie · 4 years

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kiss it better | jjk

~ COMMISSION FOR @cinnaminsvga ~

✩ — pairing: jungkook x reader ✩ — genre: college/uni au, smut, cheerleader!jk, pining, borderline crack ✩ — words: 11.7k ✩ — rating: 18+ ✩ — warnings: koo takes a tumble, explicit sexual content; clothed sex, unprotected sex (not recommended), creampie, handjobs,light subby!jk, hand-holding during sex (potent), whining, thigh-riding, vaginal sex, minor hair pulling, public sex (sort of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light dirty talk ✩ — notes: out later than intended and a bit longer than intended !! whoops!!! i won’t/don’t charge if i go over the commissioned amount becayse that’s my bad!! but yeah. its been a hot second since i last wrote smut!! also none of my friends were awake to proofread this so….. apologies if it’s shit and has typos! its 2am! pls enjoy and lmk whast u think!!

When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

masterlist | — posted; 01.03.2020

TUESDAY, SEMESTER 2 WEEK FOUR

It’s a beautiful day, the sun has just come to peak out from behind the clouds that had earlier obscured its climb from the horizon, and the grass of the Biological Sciences Library courtyard glistens with raindrops left over from the brief shower that prefaced the sun’s belated appearance. Students are finally beginning to emerge from the safety of the undercover walkways and overhangs, venturing boldly to shortcut over the grass. University life resumes, and everything falls back into its place, all as usual.

“Yah, is that Jungkook? Wait what is he—”

Well, everything except for one thing.

A red and black-clad figure slams to a stop right where two students are sitting and minding their own business outside the café attached to the back of the library—there’s no time to say hello. The table rocks dangerously on its beaten, metal leg, the impact of Jungkook’s beeline almost sending it straight to the ground if the two others weren’t already seated there to catch it.

“OW!” Jimin is never one to be quiet in his complaints, all too happy to holler his outrage at the top of his lungs. As his oldest hyung would say, no attention is bad attention. “Hey you almost jammed my fingers!”

Startled as Taehyung might have been, his focus is quickly shifted to other things. His wide eyes scan Jungkook’s panting form, taking in the clothes clinging to him like a second skin and the beet red colour of his face and ears. It’s not hard to put two and two together, but what comes out of his mouth isn’t exactly the most pressing thing he wants to ask, “Jungkook, why are you wearing the female cheer leading uniform I gave you?”

There’s a somewhat crazed look that makes itself known in the youngest’s eyes. “AHA!” he throws a finger in Taehyungs face, accusing. “So you ADMIT it’s a female uniform! Taehyung, you ass, how could you!”

Taehyung’s face is a question mark and Jimin squints, confused and still huffy about nearly losing his fingers and his triple-shot iced caramel latte that he may or may not have charmed the barista into gifting him for free. He wants to know what is going on and he wants to know NOW, damn it!

“What are you on about?” he asks, wrinkling his nose as he takes his drink into hand to prevent any future risk of spillage. “Why do you look like that time you ran the half-marathon on a dare?”

Jungkook glares at him, but it’s about as effective as it would be coming from a puppy. “Be quiet and sip your drink,” he says boldly, still attempting to get his breathing under control. Jimin considers throwing a retort back but ultimately decides against, it, shrugging and doing just that. He doesn’t want it getting warm, after all.

“Uh, yeah,” Taehyung says, sounding like he is a split second away from tacking on ‘duh’ at the end. “You asked me for a cheerleading uniform? I thought you knew some chick that needed a spare, I didn’t know you wanted one to wear.”

At Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression, Taehyung takes the liberty of continuing. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it? You look surprisingly hot in a skirt, your ass looks fine as hell. But you seem kind of angry so IN MY DEFENSE, how was I supposed to know? That you wanted a male uniform? You never specified so—”

While each word that came out of Taehyung’s mouth just seemed to rile him up more, a different look passes over Jungkook’s features at that comment. “Wait, my ass looks good?” He straightens, attempting to peer over his own shoulder to catch a glimpse. “I wonder if she… No!”

He shakes his head suddenly to clear those thoughts and get back on track, whipping that same accusing finger in Taehyung’s face once more and levelling him with a renewed glare.

“Because of you, I just had the most humiliating experience of my life, and it was all in front of you-know-who!” His voice starts strong, but as he continues it shrinks to more of an angry whisper, his brows scrunched in a clear display of his displeasure. “I literally am about to commit seppuku.”

“Weeb,” Jimin utters at the same time as Taehyung asks, “y/n?” Jimin’s head whips up at the keyword.

Jungkook’s fight has all but left him at this point, and he pulls out one of the metal chairs to slump in it, defeatedly. His ears are turning crimson again as he recalls the events that had traumatised him so, and he slams his head to the table with a groan, muttering to himself in a voice that sounds dangerously like a sob.

“—stupid, was so stupid of me. I never should have asked Seokjin-hyung for advice. For actually listening I deserve nothing short of death. I’m so embarrassed I’m gonna throw myself into the lake.”

“Don’t throw yourself in there, think of the fishes—” Taehyung says at the same time as Jimin squawks, “WHAT?! You got advice from Seokjin?! He knows who your crush is? Oh my god, you’re more stupid than I thought…”

It’s all Jungkook can do to simply rest his head on the grubby-feeling table, eyes unfocused as he stares into the distance and regrets almost every single decision he has made in his waking life.

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

“My roommate,” Seokjin says, in between gratuitous sips of his monstrously sugary drink. “I think I’m almost about to get him to crack.”

“I feel bad for him,” you say, not looking up from your laptop despite the urge to gorge on your own drink. You made a goal not to look like a goblin when you woke up this morning and sipping your drink at a reasonable pace is a good start. “Being stuck in close quarters with you all the time. No doubt he needs therapy by now.”

As expected, Seokjin ignores you. You wonder if this is how he has managed not to get usurped as leader of the Contemporary Poetry Performance Club.

(To condense a very long story— he didn’t take being kicked out of the Drama Club very well. That’s on him though, he probably shouldn’t have called the Club Leader a tasteless fool for ordering a salad with his Happy Meal instead of nuggets. But, you digress.)

“I think I’m getting close these days,” the male muses, not-so-subtly making a reach for the McDonalds apple pie you have resting on the table next to your laptop. You smack his hand away without so much as a blink, more than used to having to defend any and all food from his wandering hands by this point. He continues, unaffected by the rebuttal, “Like, really close. It’s not long before my unrelenting bastardous antics wear him down and he finally breaks, spilling all his deepest secrets and confessing his long-time crush on me, thus allowing me to bring this act of friends-to-lovers pining to a close and get to the steamy stuff. “

At his spiel, you finally look at him, sporting a concerned and confused expression, if not somewhat intrigued. “… Are you talking about Jungkook?”

Seokjin chokes on the long sip he’d begun to drag up the straw, indignance making his voice rise. “NO, dumbass, I’m talking about Namjoon! Although…” He pauses only to bring a finger to stroke his chin, like a villain straight from an episode of Lazy Town, “You know, I never thought I’d be one for that harem shit, but now I think about it…”

“Gross,” you groan, wrinkling your nose. Seokjin releases a villainous cackle and you have no choice but to raise your fist in promise. He gets the message and quietens down immediately.

“No, but speaking of that little twerp,” Seokjin quickly starts up again, placing his drink down on the table. You feel an ounce of regret, knowing that means he’s about to talk for a longer time than you’re ready for. “I’m close to breaking him too.”

“He told you who his crush is?” you ask, brows raising in shock. Seokjin lets out a great sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, making you snort.

“No,” he grumbles, before brightening straight after. “But! I’m getting close. He came to me for advice this morning.”

At his words, you’ve now completely abandoned whatever you were doing on your laptop and are looking at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“Am not!” Seokjin denies, huffy. “He did! He wanted help making his crush fall in love with him, and so of course he came to me, Kim Seokjin, master of the heart and modern-day cupid.”

You pin him with a deadpan look. “Namjoon was out, wasn’t he.”

Seokjin’s glare is all the answer you need. He continues like you hadn’t even spoken in the first place.

“And since he so wisely came to me, of all people, and put his love life in my wise, gentle hands, I gave him the best advice anyone could possibly get.” The way his chest has swelled with pride and he’s looking all-too-pleased with himself doesn’t fill you with a good feeling. “I told him to play it smart, and use his assets.”

At first, you’re confused. “What, like… his cuteness? His endearing personality?”

“NO, dumbass, his assets! His ass! His thighs! His itty-bitty waist!” You think you hear him muttering something like ‘that lucky bitch’ under his breath, but can’t be sure. “Also, don’t think I missed you calling him cute, y/n. I’m filing that shit away for later.”

“I’ll kill you,” you inform him, but the threat has long since lost its impact. He rolls his eyes.

��Shut up, we both already know exactly how 'peggable’ you think he is.” He takes a haughty sip of his drink like he knows he’s right, and you hate that he is. “It’s not the most incriminating thing I have on you.”

You make the strategic decision not to say anything and dig your hole deeper, and Seokjin seems pleased at your silent admit of defeat.

“Anyway,” he says again, smacking the cream on top of his drink down into the liquid with a spoon. There is some fallout, but that’s never stopped him before. “Kid’s dumb as shit but pure of heart. I’m interested to see whether he will actually take my advice.”

“He won’t for sure,” you scoff, returning to your laptop at last. “Anyone who takes your advice is guaranteed to have an empty head and quarter of a brain cell to their name. Jungkook is smarter than that.”

As expected, Seokjin squawks in outrage, and it harmonises with the ambience of dead silence in your corner of the library. He doesn’t let the topic rest for the remainder of the day.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK FIVE

You think that the day Jungkook first rocked up to cheer practice at the gym a week ago at the same time you were coaching the women’s basketball team, is one firmly burned into your memory for the rest of your life. And, honest to god, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because the boy, in all his slim-waisted, sculpted-ass-and-thighs glory, had rocked up in a cheerleading crop top and skirt.

You have absolutely no idea why he decided to wear that to his first session after joining, but you do know that while the sight of him usually makes you drool, the sight of him in that made your brain cease all higher functioning and you, in essence, became a dog. You almost barked when you saw him, for real.

Even from across the room though, you’d quickly been able to gather that he hadn’t worn it on purpose (somehow), as his face flushed bright crimson and he quickly began to look like he wanted to neck himself in the middle of the gym. Yoongi, another bastard friend of yours who through a series of unfortunate events and regrettable decisions (for him) had become the cheer captain, had been insulted that Jungkook had shown up like that and “hadn’t taken cheer seriously”, and so had given him a punishment. Yoongi said that if he wanted to rock up in a skirt so badly, then for every coming practice he had to wear a skirt again.

Had you not been busy drooling you probably would have felt bad for Jungkook, as you did later when Yoongi filled you in. As it were, in the moment you’d nearly copped a basketball to the face for being so distracted. Regrettably, you’d had to turn away from Jungkook and back to your actual duties: coaching.

Although with Yoongi being out for your blood, you have had plenty of opportunities in the past week to ogle to your heart’s desire. A real shameful amount, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Bora!” you call, watching the girl in question halt across the gym. “Fix your footwork or I’m gonna smack you!”

The girl rolls her eyes and turns away, flicking a ponytail of dark hair over her shoulder as she does so, but listens to what you say. The familiar squeak of rubber on gym flooring fills the air as she starts the drill anew. She has a tendency to get lazy and sloppy in her movements if you don’t ride her ass, and she knows it as much as you do.

“How did you even managed to get the coaching position?” Seulgi asks from next to you, her response almost cut off by a loud racket from the cheer side of the gym. It takes all of your willpower not to fall into the trap and look over. “I feel like people like you shouldn’t be in positions of power.”

You don’t even bother arguing with her since she’s technically right and you agree. “Sheer dumb luck,” you tell her, risking a glance to the side if only to give Yoongi the stink eye. “Actually, if you really wanna know, I only went for it because Yoongi wanted it and he did something that really soured my yoghurt and pissed me off. So I applied out of spite. I probably shouldn’t have gotten the job though.”

“Huh,” Seulgi voices, eyes unfocused. “Well you’re not too bad for a fake. The team has actually been improving since you took over.”

“That’s probably because you guys went through coaches so fast for a while that for like, six months you didn’t really have one.”

“Touché.”

The only reason the girl is on the sidelines in the first place is because she’d looked over at the wrong time and caught it just as Jungkook started one of the tumbling routines, getting it almost perfect on the first go and in the process flashing his pert ass to the air and any sorry beholders. He might have been wearing bike shorts under the punishment skirt he was modelling, and he might have traded the crop top for a singlet of reasonable length, but it was still a dangerous, nay lethal sight. You’d looked over at the same time so you knew why and how Seulgi managed to tumble and trip so terribly mid-drill. She rolled her ankle so bad that as she sits next to you right now with ice on it, it looks like there’s an entire boiled egg beneath the surface of her skin. It’s kind of gross but also kind of hard to look away from.

Back to the topic at hand, there is just something about the sheer athleticism and heaven-blessed ease with which Jungkook backflips and cartwheels across the mat that turns you into a brainless slab of goo. You’re unsurprised that Seulgi got distracted and ended up hurting herself as a result of it.

The afternoon flies by and before you know it, it’s dark outside, and you’ve finished riding the collective women’s basketball team’s ass for the day. As they disperse and leave the gym at a leisurely pace, you collect Seulgi and help her towards the gym locker room to get some fresh ice for her ankle before she journeys to visit the university nurse.

The cheer squad has just about finished up their own practice, and one by one they begin to filter out of the gym. Yoongi waddles over to where you stand by the door, eyeing Seulgi with a knowing look.

“Got distracted at the wrong time, huh?” He asks, very much already knowing the answer. You give him a dirty look while Seulgi goes bright pink.

Yoongi adjusts the collar of his university sports jacket, puffing his chest out. “That’s our golden boy for ya,” he brags, sounding very much like one of the aunties and old women you find gossiping on the street near the markets. “He was born for cheer. It’s like he’s been tumbling since the day he was born. Probably even came out doing a backflip.”

You want to tell him to stop pulling shit out of his ass, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything when you agree so wholeheartedly. You’re saved from having to summon a response when in the next second, Yoongi gets the urge to turn and catches Jungkook red-handed on his way out of the gym. He seems in a hurry, moving almost like he’s trying to sneak out unnoticed, but halts at the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s holler when it breaches the air.

“Ah there he is— Jungkook-ah!” Even while calling out, Yoongi somehow still has an indolent, lazy drawl. “Good job today! Also, proud of you for committing to your punishment. Keep it up!”

The poor raven-haired boy had already looked somewhat mortified at being singled out amongst the students exiting the gym, but now as Yoongi finishes speaking and his big doe eyes flick to the side and take in you and Seulgi listening in, his face very suddenly and violently erupts into a blush.

“Th-thanks,” he squeaks, nodding, the tips of his ears darkening to match his face. His eyes are flicking from you to Yoongi in such a way he almost reminds you of a scared rodent. When it becomes clear he has nothing more to say, he turns on his heel and flees in the direction of the locker room. For his sake, you don’t ogle him as he goes. There’s a time and a place, and he seems so embarrassed that you’d feel bad for checking him out right now.

“… He’s so cute,” Yoongi remarks a few seconds after Jungkook disappears out the door, gaze still trained in the direction he’d left. “No wonder I always look over and see you drooling, y/n.”

You agree with the first part, but honestly… you could have done without that second comment. You give him the stink eye to let him know just that, before tapping Seulgi and readjusting your grip in preparation to walk once more.

“If you’re immune, Min, you’re not human,” Seulgi says, cheeky glint in her eye. Your heart warms—you can always count on her to defend you in the face of life’s meanies.

SATURDAY, WEEK 5

It’s not often you find yourself making the long, arduous trek down the street to the apartment building where Seokjin et al. live, but it does happen on the occasion. If possible, you like to make the journey in the morning or the afternoon, because there is little to no cover on the path that takes you there and the only thing you like less than being in the sun when you don’t have to is sweating.

Still, you make the trek today, even though it’s technically past the point in the morning where you would refuse. The heat starts to come anywhere from 8 to 9 o’clock, even earlier on the stinkier days. Call you lazy, but you stick by your own rules because they work and reduce your suffering considerably.

Namjoon is one of your project partners in a random elective the two of you chose, and he was meant to give you a part of the assignment he’d been working on yesterday but, of course, forgot it. And then again today, when he was meant to drop it off on his way to work, he forgot it once more. So here you are, walking to his stupid apartment and preparing to break in because it’s due next week and you need his part to finish yours, damn it.

Thankfully, air conditioning greets you the second you step inside the building and cools down whatever heat has managed to cling to your form from outside. Luck is on your side—no sweat today, babey! In a slightly better mood now that you’re out of the sun, you follow the path your legs have committed to memory to Namjoon’s apartment.

Normally you’d rely on someone being home to let you in so you can ransack Namjoon’s room, but in his apologetic text he’d informed you that everyone is out and so with a great, big sigh you’d resigned yourself and dug the lockpicking set you received one Christmas out from under your bed. It’s heavy in your back pocket now as you walk down the hallway of the floor their apartment is on, already feeling like you’ve committed a crime. Before you can even throw yourself into thoughts of which tool would work best on their front door, you catch sight of something you most definitely weren’t expecting.

There’s someone else in front of the apartment door, jiggling the doorknob and attempting to work it. You don’t know if they realise its locked and are trying their luck anyway, or whether they’ve yet to figure it out, but while their back is turned to you they have provided you with an excellent view.

Broad shoulders with tan skin peaking out from below a muscle singlet and glistening with sweat where their body catches the light. Dark curls are plastered to the back of their neck, arms out and a tattoo sleeve on one leading your gaze down its length. He’s very athletic, you gather of the stranger immediately, and you’re almost drooling at the way his bicep shifts and tenses as he tries the doorknob once more. Your gaze finally frees itself and scans over the rest of him; defined back, tiny waist, nice butt, thick thighs—

Wait. You know that waist. The sight of it bared by a skimpy cheerleading outfit is one you’ve committed to memory.

“Jungkook?” you say, feeling your stomach dip in excitement. Does it always do that when you see him? You can’t remember.

At the sound of your voice and how close it is, the male jumps in fright and lets out a noise eerily close to a squeak. He spins, slamming his back against the door and smacking a hand over his heart.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, eyes closing and head falling back against the door with a thud. The sight is borderline sinful when combined with his damp hair and sweaty form, and your thoughts threaten to take a dangerous route before you reign them in. You smack your libido back in place— down, girl! “y/n, you scared the living shit out of me.”

A moment passes before his eyes snap open and the breath leaves him in a whoosh, and he’s looking at you like a cornered rabbit, cheeks already warming in his fluster. “W-wait, y/n? What… What are you doing here?”

Cute. If you could, you think you’d pack him up and put him in your pocket.

You ignore his question only for the sake of asking him your own—much less incriminating as a choice. “Are you trying to break into your own apartment, Mister Jungkook?”

Instantly, as you’d almost come to expect at this point, his cheeks flush cutely.

“Wh- I, uh…” he swallows and clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “No! Kind of? I went for a jog earlier and Namjoon-hyung kind of… uh… he locked me out.”

As he speaks, you’re reminded of how much you actually like his voice. It’s smooth, melodious; even when its shaking slightly from nerves. Why is he nervous? The longer you stand in his presence the more curious you become. You kind of want to tease him a little.

You hum, a smile curling the corners of your lips and one of your brows raising. “Ah, so he’s scorned both of us, I see. But fear not, little gumdrop!”

He’s staring at you in something akin to flustered bewilderment as you reach behind you and pull out your lockpicking kit, brandishing it like a trophy. “I have the solution!”

“…” He’s stunned into silence, it seems, but you don’t mind. The look on his face right now is super cute—you kind of want to pinch his cheeks. Okay, damn it, you can’t help it—you pinch his cheek and make a short cooing noise as you step past, preparing to help him break into his apartment. At least this way it feels less like a crime and more like a service.

(You sneak a sly look back at Jungkook as you pass him, and your heart squeezes at the sight of his cheeks flushing pink from your teasing action, eyes wide as they follow your form. This boy is gonna kill you one day.)

Usually you have a bit of trouble picking locks (you don’t do it often) but you crack this one surprisingly fast, and before you know it the door is swinging open and you’re letting out a noise of glee.

“Excellent!” you announce, before darting right in to search for what you came for. Namjoon left it conveniently on the dining table, so you dash over and grab the folder and USB before turning around to be on your merry way.

When you return to the door, Jungkook is still standing there, tattooed hand pressed to the cheek you’d pinched – which are bright red, by the way— and his eyes somewhat dazed.

“See you at practice later, Jungkook!” you say, waving the folder to accentuate the farewell. “Don’t forget the punishment skirt! You look too good in it, it would be a crime to forget it.”

Once you’re done speaking, you turn back the way you’re walking, missing the facial expression that accompanies his flustered sputtering of a goodbye. Your stomach still flips in excitement as you retreat, a skip in your step, and you can’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you ended up seeing more of Jungkook outside of practice.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK 6

You’re sitting in the campus sushi place, escaping the midday heat and grabbing something to eat, minding your own business. It is, though, a nice day and you don’t mind sitting back and just admiring it. This changes when a figure suddenly comes bolting towards you from a distance and nearly bowls you and the contents of your sushi container over.

“SEOKJIN!” you exclaim, barely having saved your food from a sudden and unfortunate meet & greet with the floor. You give him a glare strong enough to kill. “What the hell! My karaage chicken!!! Dude you KNOW they only make a certain amount of these per day, you almost made me drop it and I hadn’t even taken a bit yet! Honestly! You—”

“Shut! Shut up!” Seokjin grips you by the shoulders, giving you a shake; it makes your eyes lock-on to his flushed face, his breath coming in pants from his exertion. “Shut up I have something to say and it’s important!”

“Stop shaking me!” you cry, wriggling out of his grip and leaning as far back into your chair as you can to get away from this nutcase. “And what?! You finally slipped up and Namjoon found all the secret letters you write for him when you’re horny?!”

“No, better!” Seokjin makes like he’s going to grab your shoulders again and you smack his hands away. He continues, eyes alight with something akin to glee that makes him look just a little bit crazy. “I finally did it! I found out who that twerp’s crush is! You won’t beli—”

“What?!” you sputter, your gut churning for some reason. Is the sushi you ate off? “He told you? No way he would be stupid enough to tell you—”

“Hey!” the male cries, indignant. “I resent that! Also no, he didn’t technically tell me, but I have people on the inside…”

It takes a moment for you to scan through people in your head before it clicks. You gasp. “You bullied it out of his friends?! Seokjin! Taehyung and Jimin don’t deserve that!”

“I didn’t bully them! They told me of their own accord!” He points a finger at you in retribution. “Albeit, it was by accident, but I digress.”

You’re shaking your head, returning to your sushi and ignoring the odd sensations in your gut. “This is blood information, man. I don’t know if I can sit and be accomplice to—”

“It’s you!” Seokjin blurts, sticking his pink-haired head right in your face. “The twerp has a crush on you! Finally, at least one of my shipping dreams is coming true!”

You’re so shocked by the information literally thrown in your face that you honest to god almost drop your sushi, again. You stare at the male, mouth open, as you flounder to get some order back in your thoughts.

The first thing you think to say is—“What? No way. Your info is dodgy, man.”

“Look, I know you’re sensitive so I try not to say this often, but are you dumb, y/n?” Seokjin stands back now, hand on his hip. The look he’s giving you isn’t impressed. “It makes so much sense! Why else would he sign up to cheerleading in a skirt to use his assets if it wasn’t on at the same time as whatever his crush does? Honestly, I should have seen it sooner—the way he goes bright pink every time he sees you and his eyes sparkle like an anime girl every time we mention you. I just thought he was scared of girls or had pinkeye or somethin’.”

You kind of want to smack him, but the rest of you is busy attempting to process all the information unloaded on you. Your stomach gives a giddy flip, and you decide it can only mean one thing in the wake of finding out that Jungkook’s mysterious crush is you.

Maybe, just maybe, you like him too.

…

You’re gonna pursue him.

THURSDAY, WEEK 7

It seems that Jungkook has heard that his crush on you has been leaked, because you’ve been trying to track him down and confirm it ever since last week and he’s been avoiding you like the plague. You think you see him kicking up dust as he retreats as fast as his legs will take him around hallway corners when he sees you at the other end, you catch glimpses of him across courtyards as he spins and flees in the opposite directions. A part of you wonders whether its because he does indeed have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you know, of whether it’s because he doesn’t have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you might think he does.

Well, you can’t know until you talk to him and it seems like you won’t be able to talk to him unless you ambush him in the men’s toilets or something. Which, by the way, isn’t something you’re going to do because even though your friends might be crazy, you’re most definitely not.

It was even to the point that Jungkook missed the first two practices after you found out, and you have no doubt that he would have avoided you by missing even more had Yoongi not threatened him with adding a crop top to his punishment attire should he miss another practice. He’d showed up for the next one but every time he came within five metres of you he blushed and kept his eyes to the ground, fleeing as soon as he can.

It’s a little bit frustrating, and he’s still cute when he acts all shy, but you really wish you could track him down just so you know whether its true or not.

Perhaps, with time, he’ll grow a little less skittish and let you get close enough to start a conversation. You just have to hold out hope that a moment will come that will allow you to start bridging things back together with the two of you.

FRIDAY, WEEK 7

That moment comes sooner than you expect when, just the next day, you round a corner alongside Seulgi, having just come from the women’s locker rooms, and walk straight into someone. It’s like walking into a brick wall and kind of hurts. You stumble and let out a sound in pained surprise, but manage to stay on your feet for the most part— the joy at that moment of success passes quickly when you become aware of the cool feeling seeping down your thigh and stomach.

Before even looking to see who you walked into, your gaze is directed down to see what was spilt on you— it’s light pink, and the sugary sweet scent that brushes your nose and sticky sensation that begins to make itself known on your skin are something you recognise instantly.

Strawberry milk.

You look up in something akin to horror, but the expression all but falls from your face when you see who the culprit is.

Jungkook stands there looking very much like a deer caught in headlights, drink carton crumpled and empty in his hand now that its contents are all over your front. As you gaze at him you watch the tip of his ears turn bright red, eyes wide and so unguarded you swear you can see the thoughts whipping through his mind beyond them. You also see the instant regret and mortification that washes over his boyish features as he realises what has just happened and who he has spilt his drink on.

“y-y/n—” he stutters, voice caught in his throat. Whatever he was planning on saying is quickly overpowered by an obnoxious voice from his side.

You hadn’t even noticed Yoongi was walking alongside Jungkook until you hear him speak, “Wow, you know what you were coming around that corner so hard and fast that this is on you, y/n.”

When Yoongi first started talking, Jungkook had seemed relieved, but now a sense of panic has taken over his features.

“N-no! I am so sorry! This was my fault, I shouldn’t have had it open when I couldn’t even drink it yet. I just really like strawberry milk, and…” He’s so endearingly remorseful as he speaks, big puppy eyes looking apologetically into your own like he’s searching for any hint of forgiveness there to spare.

For a moment you’re absolutely blindsided by the way he just made your heart squeeze in your chest with how damn cute he is, but you recover just in time to catch it as the shocked expression on Yoongi’s face melds into something devious and fitting for his bastardly title.

“Right, he’s right, totally our bad,” Yoongi says, doing a complete 180 and bewildering both you and Seulgi beside you. “Wow, look at your pants, totally soaked through man. Here, come with me— it’s only fair we help grab you something to change into.”

“What—” you don’t get to finish before the cat-faced bastard grabs you by the arm and begins dragging you down the hall in the direction you came from. Seulgi and Jungkook remain in place, stunned by the turn in events.

“Jungkook, head to practice and get them started! I want some pyramid practice, and then some tumbling from you and the others. Chop chop!” — is all Yoongi throws over his shoulder in dismissal, dragging you where you now realise is one of the other locker rooms. You gape at him as he walks straight up to the one that has been locked for months and opens it with a key.

Catching your expression, he shrugs. “Sometimes you just need a place of your own to hoard things.”

You don’t understand what he’s talking about until you step in and see a table in the corner near the doorway piled high with first aid supplies, twiggy sticks and energy drinks. Your bewildered subsequent scan of the room for more treasured objects is cut short when a lump of clothing smacks you in the face.

You just barely manage to fumble it into your grasp, unable to swallow your groan when you see what it is from the pattern alone.

“It’s the only thing spare,” Yoongi says, radiating true goblin energy. You don’t trust him as far as you can throw him right now but you don’t know where to look to disprove him. “Try not to get my cheerleaders too worked up.”

You have an inkling as to why he’s done this from his words, but can’t confirm it right now. You huff, moving off to one of the stalls.

“If people get flashed, that’s on you.”

Ten minutes later sees you back in the open gymnasium with cool air brushing your legs that usually only get to see the light of day through rips in your jeans. You set your team to their tasks and drills already, so now you’re left alone with your thoughts. You know for sure now why Yoongi made you change into the cheerleading skirt.

Because ever since you walked out in it and nearly made him fall flat on his face in shock, Jungkook hasn’t been able to keep the blush off his cheeks or his eyes away from you for more than a few minutes at a time. You feel slightly empowered, contrary to how you thought the dangerously short piece of clothing was going to make you feel.

You have a nice body, you’re comfortable admitting it, and the way that your unplanned flaunting of it seems to be affecting Jungkook… well it’s a nice stroke of the ego, you won’t lie, but it also makes your stomach flip giddily. God, you want him. You’ve always thought he was cute but ever since he joined cheer and rocked up in that skirt like a sweet, hot fool, it was over for you. He’s so… ugh.

Trucking through the practice of your team is, for once, a struggle. It’s so hard not to look over every few seconds to catch Jungkook when you can feel his gaze on you, and you know that once you give in you won’t be able to help being distracted afterwards. It’s a miracle you get through to the end of it while remaining sane.

As your practice wraps up for the day, you allow yourself a glimpse to the side at last. What you see is a sweaty, panting Jungkook, the muscles of his arms straining as he holds up a brunette you vaguely recall as Tzuyu above his head. Wow, you’re actually a little startled at how much arousal just washed through you— is this normal? Maybe you’re more whipped than you thought. You don’t know.

What you do know, however, is that you want that boy, and right now especially you want to mess with him. Call it a con of being around such bastardous friends all the time, but you’re really feeling the urge. You barely manage to hold yourself back, marvelling at the animal he seems to reduce you to with just a flex of his bicep.

The practice for your basketball team finishes before cheerleading; Yoongi is a ruthless coach and relentless when it comes to formations and perfecting routines. More often than not their practices end long after yours. As your girls begin to filter out of the gymnasium, the cheer squad are still going. You make to follow after, but your name is called from the other side of the gym by a voice you recognise but know instantly shouldn’t be here.

“y/n! Come here! Don’t ignore me!” Seokjin is the fiend in question, hollering at such an unmistakable frequency that you couldn’t ignore it if you tried. It’s like he’s followed in the footsteps of cats and has pinpointed the exact frequency that a baby’s cry is at, and is now using it to his advantage. You turn, wary, and see him waving like a dumbass. “Come here! Don’t make me pspspsps!”

Now annoyed, you stomp over if only so you can get within beating range. As soon as you reach a few feet away he ducks behind Yoongi though, so you don’t get to follow through on your caveman instincts to beat him over the head with a rock.

“What?” you ask, giving him a stinky look. “Are you like, stalking me or something? Why are you so obsessed with me?”

You can tell he wants to laugh, but his instinct to rile you up overpowers the humour of what you said. “You think you’re worth stalking? I don’t need to stalk you to know that your day consists almost entirely of eating, shitting, and staring at a certain ass.”

Well, he has you there. You shrug, “I’m a simple girl.”

Seokjin is momentarily bewildered that you didn’t rise to his bait and Yoongi chokes on his laughter beside you, the sound coming out squeaky. You’re glad someone is laughing, it makes your dick hard when people find you funny. Again, you’re a simple girl.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Seokjin says. Apparently it doesn’t take him long to recover, and he’s already shifted topics.

Yoongi, who had broken away to guide his team for a moment, chimes back in at the taller male’s comment. “It’s all apart of the keikaku, man. Everything is going perfectly. My golden boy is almost too fun to torment. I’ve tasted power and now I don’t know how to stop.”

“Who?” Seokjin asks, more out of habit than anything, before looking over to Yoongi’s minions and letting out a sound of realisation. “Ahh… Mister Jungkook.”

You swear you see the male in question, who is waiting his turn to begin the tumbling routine Yoongi has changed them onto, stiffen. You’re not sure whether it is a trick of the light or not, though, because in the next second he’s shuffling forward to second in line, juggling his weight from foot to foot with restless energy. His eyes are trained on his teammates flipping across the matts.

“So you know too? y/n, you big-mouthed whore!” Seokjin exclaims, pinning you with an exaggerated look of scandal. Jungkook trips slightly in his step as he moves to the front of the line, barely a few metres away.

You don’t bother defending yourself, since Yoongi speaks before you can anyway. “That y/n likes Jungkook and has wanted to peg his cute ass since forever? Yeah, I know.”

The timing of Yoongi’s response is truly unfortunate. As he started speaking, Jungkook began his run up— and it seems that whatever snippet he heard as he started were enough to throw him off completely. He goes into the front flip kind of wonky, and you have a feeling of dread creep up as you watch him.

He doesn’t do the mid-air turns he is meant to, and instead goes to land after just one flip— the timing is off, though, and your breath hisses through your teeth and you physically cringe as you watch his ankle roll upon landing.

“Ah SHIT!” he yelps, quickly dropping to the mat and removing pressure from his foot. You feel frozen as you watch, a large number of his teammates running over and asking him if he’s okay.

“Oh feck,” Yoongi says, checking his watch as he mutters to himself. “Shit. Okay we need to practice and only have the gym for another forty-five minutes, but he needs that looked at asap. Who…”

Barely a split-second passes before he’s looking right at you imploringly, with an inappropriately devious glint in the back of his eyes.

“y/n, you’re free and you have first aid training right? Can you take him to get that wrapped and iced up?” He’s not even done asking you before he’s pushing you in the direction of the male currently curled on the floor. “That room should still be open— I forgot to lock it earlier.”

“Wait, I actually have—” you’re about to let him know about the mountain of schoolwork you have to catch up on, but of course he’s not having any of it. He’s already barking at his squad.

“Okay, everyone, back off and back to tumbling! y/n here will take care of our golden boy, we have the gym for the next forty-five minutes and we’re gonna make the most of it, damn it!”

Yoongi abandons you at Jungkook’s side, and at his command the rest of the cheerleader begrudgingly disperse— you think you catch a few of the female ones giving you the stink eye at their lost opportunity, and you know it shouldn’t stroke your ego but still it does.

“I guess this is how the Kookie crumbled, huh,” you say, embarrassed that he could have heard all of what Yoongi said and attempting to cope using the classic— humour.

Jungkook, who had turned his wide eyes and red face to you the second you started talking, now seems to be blushing harder. Evidently, for a number of reasons, he is mortified. It’s like he’s trying to hide behind the long curls that have fallen into his face. Needless to say, it’s not successful, and now both of you are embarrassed. One of you needs to take the lead.

But right now neither of you are wearing the pants.

“Alright, let’s get that looked at,” you say, wincing as you look at his ankle already beginning to swell. “Arms up.”

He obeys instantly and without question, and you’re torn between the primal powers within you wanting to both cuddle him and to drop your panties then and there.

Getting Jungkook to a standing position while he can only use one leg is harder than you could have imagined, but you know that there’s no way you would have been able to lift him had he not helped you carry his weight. Once he’s upright and his arm is around your shoulder (still panting slightly and glistening with sweat, as you’re trying not to think about) you begin the arduous journey to the locker room Yoongi showed you earlier.

Jungkook doesn’t really say anything during the trip there, and neither do you— except he has an excuse, considering he’s probably in a fair bit of pain right now. You don’t have an excuse, except that you’re trying desperately not to think about how you can feel each hard line of his body against you right now. It’s a whole-brain engaging kind of activity.

Thankfully, the room is unlocked as Yoongi said, and you grab a towel to lay across one of the cleaner looking benches on the far side of the room— just because its cleaner than the others doesn’t mean it’s clean, per se. You smile when you see Jungkook’s thankful expression.

“Right,” you say, staying in front of where he’s sitting for a moment as you shake your arms out; the boy really is just all muscle, honestly. “Pop your ankle up on the bench, and I’ll grab some ice and stuff to wrap it.”

Jungkook nods, obeying wordlessly. His cheeks still are tainted the slightest pink, and he’s making a point to avoid meeting your gaze. Fighting a smile, you move to Yoongi’s stash and grab what you need, spotting some high-end painkillers and immediately adding them to the pile in your arms.

When you return to his side, you seat yourself on the bench beside his leg— thankfully, they’re wide enough that neither your butt nor Jungkook’s leg has to be sacrificed for the fit. You go through the motions with him, poking and prodding and bending to assess the damage; it’s just a bad sprain, but damn if each watery look he gets at the pain doesn’t make you want to coddle him to death.

Surprisingly, he’s still silent as you go about icing and wrapping his ankle. You contemplated filling the silence but you’re not good at chit chat or small talk, so refrain and settle for humming softly instead. Considering the rollercoaster of feelings he’s spun you through today, you’re almost disappointed that a wrap on his ankle is all that’s going to come of this.

Which is stupid, of course. You know. You digress.

You’re still somewhat disappointed as you finish up, popping the excess bandage back in its container. “Okay! You’ll need to…”

You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and for once he doesn’t shy away from it— there’s something about them, the endless chocolate depths and the doe-eyed look, that completely disarms you for a moment. Blinking, it takes all your might to stop yourself from studying as you continue. “Ahem, uh… you’ll need to keep it elevated, when possible. Compressing it is ideal. Also, for swelling, ice it for 20-30 minutes every 2-3 hours for the first day or so…”

He blinks up at you, and you smile. “Any questions?”

Something intriguing crosses his gaze and he bites his lip, flushing slightly. Oh, he is doing a number on your willpower. You need to get out of here.

“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat, continuing straight away. You watch even more colour rush to his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “About earlier… when I stacked it… Was what Yoongi said true?”

Well. You were not… expecting that. For a moment you’re stunned into silence, self control hanging by a thread. “What… Yoongi said?”

Jungkook gives you a look like he can’t believe you’re making him say it. “That you, um…”

Humiliated but deciding to face it head on, you ask him with your own cheeks heating, “Are you asking about the pegging or the, uh… the liking you part?”

To your surprise, Jungkook chokes and stiffens in place, eyes shooting wide and face and ears going beet red. “I, um… I only heard the liking part…”

OH. Well. You kind of want to die, but… at least now he knows?

…You’re gonna throw yourself off a bridge.

He must mistake the cause of your silence for something else, because he seems to panic. “B-because, um, I know you know how I feel, and it’s okay if you don’t um— I was just wondering—”

In the midst of his spiel, you take a seat on the bench, closer to him than you were last time. It only makes him grow more flustered before you press a finger to his lips to shush him. He gets the message and falls silent instantly, making your heart skip a beat at his ready obedience. God, are you an animal?! Really?!

“I was trying to track you down to confirm it, you know,” you say, shoving your embarrassment into a box in the far reaches of your mind. Time to swallow your pride. “But you kept avoiding me.”

Jungkook’s eyes are still wide. “Oh… sorry.”

You smile at his soft, uttered apology. Testingly, tentatively, you shift your hand and rest it on his hip. His whole body stiffens once more, but its more in surprise than discomfort. “What would you do if it was true, hm?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, he’s momentarily speechless. When your thumb rubs against the hard line of his hip bone, drawing a shudder, he jerks back into motion.

“Oh my god, you—” he’s dazed before he narrows his eyes at you, voice dropping to a whisper that’s somewhat tinged with hurt. “Are you teasing me?”

You manage to hold back the laugh but can’t help the smile that rises at his words. “I always get the urge to tease you, Jungkook, but it’s not to be cruel.” You lean forward, holding his gaze. “I probably never grew out of that kindergarten stage.”

It takes a second for what you said to sink in. The way that hope enters his eyes is so cute that you’re humiliated at the urge to squeal that rises. “So, you…”

It’s embarrassing to say the words out loud, especially considering the filth running through your mind right now, and you can’t quite bring yourself to. Teasingly, you bring your other hand to his thigh, brushing the edge of the skirt with your thumb and enjoying the way he shivers. “It’s embarrassing to say out loud, so if you want to hear it, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

The soft, excited gasp he lets out emboldens you to carry out your next action— you move the hand on his hip, brushing your fingertips up the side of his slim waist before bringing them back down to rest over his crotch.

To your complete and utter surprise, there is already some firmness there that greets you. At your curious gaze, he flushes pink.

“It’s the skirt,” he confesses, averting his gaze to your lap for the briefest second. “You look really good in it…”

Not that your ego needs more stroking, but you’re happy to let it happen anyway. You hum, beginning to move your hand— he stifles a gasp.

“I know,” you say, grinning. It’s ridiculous how your stomach flips, arousal beginning to trickle into your abdomen and ache in the apex of your thighs. “I could feel you looking at me. I caught you a few times, too.”

He’s embarrassed, you can tell, but the current situation doesn’t leave much room for dignity as it is anyway. Still, you can’t help but tease him some more, voice soft as you rub over his growing bulge and lean closer. “Do you always look at me, Jungkook?”

He squirms, a gasp slipping out before he attempts to send you a glare. “This is embarrassing,” he whines. You raise a brow, increasing the pressure of your hand, and he is quick to amend his response in a whisper, “…Yes.”

“And what do you imagine, when you look at me?” you ask, unable to deny the thrill running through your veins and lighting heat in your abdomen. You pause your ministrations only to move your hand to the top of his skirt and slip beneath the material. This time a moan slips out before he can stop it. “Is it things like this?”

He lets his head fall back against the wall, looking at you through hazy, lidded eyes. “Yes,” he admits, and for how readily he supplied the answer you reward him by slipping your hand beneath the rest of the layers over his hips and wrapping your fingers around his hardening length.

He whines— actually whines— and rolls his hips into your hand, thick thigh tensing beneath the grip of your other hand. The resulting wash of arousal that floods over you is so sudden it almost makes you dizzy.

“Oh, you’re a good boy,” you mutter it without much thought, but surprise filters through you when you feel his length twitch and flush with heat in your hold at the words. Ah— he likes a bit of praise, does he? You slide your free hand up his thigh, working the waistband of his skirt and bike shorts down until they rest just past the beginning of his thighs. It’s like you’re looking at a work of art, you marvel slightly— the curls that begin to trail down a little below his belly button, the sculpted line of his hip bones and the hints of his abs that show as his body tenses. You’re just one woman.

“Does it feel as good as you imagined, Jungkook?” you aimed to speak louder but it comes out sort of breathy. You trail your fingers down the tan skin of his abdomen before gripping the material of his bottoms and using the moment to free his length.

If you didn’t have such a firm grip on it, you know it would have sprung back against his stomach— you try not to let your surprise show, either, because you could feel that he was packing, but seeing it is another thing and your stomach flips in giddy anticipation. Jungkook’s chest heaves as his breath quickens, eyes boring into you and hands bunching in the material of the punishment skirt. You stroke your hand along his length, pressing your thumb along the underside and relishing in the shudder it elicits.

“y/n,” he whines softly, face flushing as his cock twitches in your hold. Whether he’s forgotten you even asked a question or simply is too overwhelmed to answer right now, you don’t know.

As for how you’re doing— you’re so turned on right now that in all honesty you don’t know what to do with yourself. A solution comes to mind quickly and you don’t have the usual self control you do to stop yourself.

Mindful of his injured leg, you rise, keeping your grip on him as you do so. His lidded gaze follows you, soft gasps escaping him all the while.

“Give me your leg,” you instruct, relishing how quickly he listens. Presented with his thigh, you swing one of your legs over the other side of the bench and rest on it so that as little weight as possible is on his bad leg, your knees brushing his hips. As soon as you’re lowered, you can’t help but gasp and roll your hips— the only thing separating you and the smooth skin and hard muscle of his thigh is the thin layer of your damp panties, and the stimulation on your clit makes your entire core throb in arousal.

Apparently this is also one of the things he’s imagined, because Jungkook lets out a low, gasping moan and rolls his hips up into your hand— which, of course, makes his thigh muscles tense and shift, rubbing oh so nicely against your clit. You almost fall off from the jolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine, free hand shooting to grab his bicep, “Ah, Jungkook!”

He apparently has the sense of mind to support you by using the arm in your hold to reach and grip your hip. Generous amounts of precum have started to bead at his tip, and you drag your hand up his girth, collecting it on your thumb and smearing it down his length for lubrication. It elicits a whine, another roll of his hips, and like that you settle into a rhythm of sorts.

“y/n.” Each gasp and moan he lets out have to be specially designed to ruin you, you decide. He seeks your gaze with hazy, lust-ridden eyes. “Please kiss me.”

It’s a brazen request coming from him of all people, and you’re all too happy to oblige. You lean forward, the rock of your hips making you shudder, and connect his lips with your own— he’d sought your kiss as you did so, craning his neck forward and awaiting your lips. It’s a heated kiss from the beginning, given the situation— you don’t fight for dominance so much as assume it from the start. Each press of your tongue, graze of your teeth, has a new sound tumbling from his throat and into your mouth. It makes your heart race even harder than it already was.

It doesn’t take long for tension to begin to build in your abdomen, and you know if you’re already feeling it then he must be even closer. Not wanting this to end just yet, you force yourself to slow your hand down, breaking the kiss and shifting to press your mouth to his neck.

“Wh-what—” he gasps, shuddering as your thumb plays with his slit, rhythm slowed to a stop. Both of you are panting, almost, and you suckle a mark into the junction of his neck before pulling back with a grin.

“Surely that isn’t all you’ve imagined, Jungkook.” You lean forward, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth before pulling back— the way he chases your lips makes your heart squeeze. “What now? Be a good boy, tell me.”

Far from being embarrassed at this point and all but a slave to the haze of lust in the air, Jungkook’s breath hitches and he responds, somewhat tentative if anything, “… ride me.”

“Good boy,” you breathe, offering him a proud smile. He preens beneath your fond look.

You shift, and you think that he must have expected you to stand up fully and remove your clothes, or at least your bottoms, but to his surprise you simply shuffle up and reach beneath your skirt, slipping your panties aside and aligning his member with your entrance. You’re so turned on that you’ve soaked through your underwear, and you know you’ve smeared enough precum along his length that lubrication will be no problem. So you simply lower yourself down until his head parts your lips and begins to sink into you.

At the sheer size of him even as just the tip enters your cunt, you have to halt, gasping, “Fuck!”

If he wanted to respond, you don’t really give him time to; as soon as you get your bearings you continue sinking down onto him. There is a slight burn, of course, but you’re so turned on that it fades quicker than you can register. The sensation of him, the throb, his girth and the way he splits your walls, stretching you more and more as you seat yourself on him— it’s indescribable, and all you can offer is that it feels so good you swear tears are gonna prick at your eyes. From the look on his face, brows scrunched and mouth parted as a long, low groan slips out, you know it must feel just as good for him.

When the back of your thighs press against the top of his his and he’s fully sheathed in you, you feel like you’re about to lose your mind— this position has him so deep in your pussy that with each miniscule shift the tip of his cock presses against a spot that sends delicious jolts of pleasure up your spine. Honestly, if you weren’t so intent on seeing this through, you think you could cum from that sensation alone.

Even as you’re in a mess of pleasure and a haze of desire, you can’t help but tease him some more. You clench your insides, rolling your hips— the sharp, lilting moan he lets out makes your stomach flip. “What now, baby boy?”

You hold his hips down with your hand, feeling them twitch with the urge to rock up into you. A long, drawn groan escapes him. “Do you want to see me? More of me? Or do you want to feel me?”

You take his hand into your hold and guide it up to your chest, slipping it beneath your shirt and bra to cup your breast. His breath hitches, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he blinks and attempts to clear the haze from his vision. You relish in the control you have over him until his thumb brushes your nipple and he pinches it, tweaking it instinctively. A moan tears from you, the shock of pleasure that results making you clench around him again; his free hand scrambles for purchase against your thigh, fingers digging in as pleasure washes over him in turn.

Your breath is coming a little faster now. Leaving his hand at your chest, you move it to drag up his neck before threading your fingers in the damp curls at the back of his neck. Finding a firm grip, you tug his head back ever so lightly— it elicits a new moan that you haven’t heard yet, and you really begin to think this boy will be your undoing.

“What do you want?” you ask again, rolling your hips once more. It isn’t fair of you, you know, since you can hardly think yourself from the sensations. “You want me to move, baby boy?”

He nods, attempting to speak through the moan caught in his throat. “Please… fuck me, y/n.”

Well, who are you to say no to that?

Happy to oblige, you engage your thighs and begin to rise— the sensation of him dragging against your walls makes both of you gasp, and you almost falter in your movements from the feeling alone. Gathering your wits as best as you can, you continue your movements, successfully rising and then seating yourself once more. Unable to withhold much longer, you roll your hips and begin to set the two of you into a rhythm.

You stopped paying heed to the noises escaping you a while ago, but you don’t doubt that the sinful sounds tumbling from Jungkook’s mouth as you ride him are a large contributor to the way the tension in your abdomen quickly begins to knot and bundle once more.

Even with as heavenly as it feels, it’s hard to keep up momentum when your thighs begin to burn. Thankfully, Jungkook has more than enough stamina in his thigh muscles for the both of you, and when he senses your fatigue, he brings his grip to your hips to hold them in place before rocking his own up and beginning to fuck up into you.

Needless to say, the pace he sets is much faster and much harder than the one you had. Swears tumble softly from your mouth at the change in intensity of pleasure as it shoots through you, orgasm already approaching much faster than anticipated. Your hands come to grip his on your hips with a cry of his name, knees turning to jelly.

Movement against your hand surprises you, but not as much as the sensation of Jungkook’s hand shifting to thread his fingers with yours. You honestly feel your heart burst, and as he fucks up into you that bit harder you can’t help the way you clutch his hand like a lifeline, the sweet moment quick to pass but most definitely not forgotten.

“G-gonna cum,” you gasp, eyes closing and allowing the slap of skin and Jungkook’s gasping moans to overtake your senses. You don’t forget to indulge him in some praise. “Such a g-good boy, making me feel so g-good.”

He whines at your words, and right as your pleasure approaches its peak you feel his hips stutter and slam up into yours harder than all the times before. The stimulation of that spot deep inside of you is all that’s needed to push you into the throes of your orgasm, and it washes over you more intensely than you’ve ever felt before as you clench and tense with a cry of his name.

Distantly, you feel his own grip on you tighten, and his hips still as they’re pressed against yours. Warmth floods your core, cock throbbing as he empties inside you, and you swear you hear the softest of confessions uttered to the air as he joins you in your high.

He comes down before you do, although you’re not far behind him, and for a moment you sit in place, panting and attempting to come back to your senses. He’s softened inside you slightly, but when you shift and clench on instinct as you do so, feeling cum slide down your thighs, he twitches and throbs inside you.

Taken aback, your gaze whips to him and now that his shame has returned to him, he has the decency to blush. Well, apparently Jeon Jungkook’s stamina really is no joke. Maybe he really was born to be an athlete.

“Greedy. You want more?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and a thrilling mix of fear and excitement dances in his eyes.

“y/n—” he rasps, desperate. You slide off of him, making both of you groan, but return to your previous position on his thigh. He moans as he feels his own cum leak out of you and onto his skin. When your hand comes to wrap around his slick member, he jolts and whines.

“You wanna tell me what you said just before?” you ask, beginning to twist your wrist and stroke his cock ever so slowly. He shakes his head, whether at your question or the overstimulation, you’re not sure— you know it’s probably a bit of both though, considering he twitches in your hold.

“‘S embarrassing,” he murmurs, back arching as you increase your pace just a little. “Ah, y/n!”

“I see. You know, I think I can get you to cum again,” you say, changing tactics.

Jungkook shakes his head, strands of his raven hair plastered to his forehead in sweat. “I can’t—”

“You should tell me,” you say, teasing lilt to your tone. He whines, rocking his hips into and then away from the sensations.

When he shakes his head again, letting it fall back against the wall and baring the column of his throat to you, you jump on his acceptance of the situation. You pick up speed, rolling your wrist and moving in tune with the shifting of his body. It doesn’t take very long before his oversensitivity throws him into another orgasm, stronger than the last but dryer. The few beads of cum that escape seem ever so tantalising as they roll down his length, drawing your gaze.

“You gonna tell me now?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Jungkook slumps against the wall, breathing heavy and sweat glistening on his golden skin. He looks at you through heavily lidded eyes.

“It’s still embarrassing,” he whines, breathy in his exertion.

Right, well. You know what he said, but you want to hear him say it with his own mouth once more and you’ll stay here all night to make that happen if you need to.

Of course, it’s not until a while and another heated moment or two later that Jungkook realises this and gives in.

His confession is so much sweeter on your ears the second time, and of course, as promised, you reward him with your own. It’s worth it for the way it makes his eyes shine, you think.

Jeon Jungkook really has you well and truly whipped.

a/n: thank u for reading and i hope u liked it! im super excited to have completed my first commission and would really appreciate it if u let me know what u think by sending me an ask and liking & rbing this with ur thoughts!! i read & appreciate everything!! thank u !! love u !! peace out !! :D

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populationtyre · 3 years

Note

Why do you reblog pride post’s while also posting transphobic and transmisogynist posts? Pride was started by TRANS WOMEN throwing bricks at cops. Maybe do some research before blindly following terfs? I feel like maybe you’re better than that but I could be wrong. Idk do some soul searching

pride absolutely was NOT “started by trans women”. that’s a MYTH that has been debunked multiple times. Marsha P. Johnson wasn’t even THERE at the start. He showed up after the riots had already started (yes, he. He self-identified as a GAY MAN who was also a radical drag queen). Sylvia Rivera was also not there at the start either.

It was a BLACK BUTCH LESBIAN —believed to be Stormé — who kicked it off by resisting arrest, and the GAY MEN in the bar threw bottles and drinks in protest (the bricks also came later).

i know you think i might be uneducated and have no idea what i’m talking about, but i actually used to believe the gender stuff too when i was younger. i believed it and wholeheartedly tried to spread it FOR YEARS. in fact, i myself was on the verge of transitioning as a teenager when i did some SOUL SEARCHING and found that i had just been regurgitating absolute horseshit, and took it upon myself to rethink some things about my feminism.

then i ACTUALLY looked into the information out there, i looked at the research and i listened to the stories and i read the books and had real life discussions with real people. i questioned what i was being told and i drew my own conclusions. and it wasn’t just an overnight change of heart. it took at least a couple years while i came to terms with the new information i was being exposed to and took my time to consider it and mull it over.

like, my dude, i come from a family of academics, and i have a degree in psychological sciences. i think i’ve got a pretty good handle on research.

further than that, i’ve been an active, passionate feminist for over a decade now. i’ve been writing essays and learning and exploring this topic for years. i’ve been exposed to a variety of feminist movements, attended a variety of feminist gatherings and consciousness raising meetings, and been involved in a variety of feminist circles. I’ve met with women from all over the world, from all kinds of backgrounds, and listened to their experiences. I also came out as same-sex attracted when i was twelve, and attended a bunch of groups and volunteered with a bunch of events for the alphabet community. we had our own dances and camps and trivia nights and regular meetings to talk about our experiences and learn from eachother and our elders. i’ve watched how this community has treated eachother, I’ve seen it first hand.

this is not some new hobby i just picked up in lockdown. this is not some passive interest. i have been active and involved and i come from a place of actually being informed, and continue to learn new things every day. if you think i’m just blindly following others, you clearly don’t actually know anything about me.

ANYWAY, if you’d like to do your own research, there’s some wonderful resources out there.

I have a few recommendations but I encourage you to seek more out yourself.

I’ll start with my favourite. It’s an incredible analysis of the mythologising of Stonewall, looking at the derailing question of “who threw the first brick?”, challenging the ahistorical reporting of who was there and how they were involved, and remembering the significance of homosexuality’s criminalisation.

«If Johnson and Rivera didn’t throw the first brick — who did?[...] Maybe we simply don’t know. It was a collective effort by a group of angry homosexuals.

All the Stonewall rioters, they had no reason to riot if homosexuality wasn’t criminalized. They would not have lived the lives they did if homosexuality wasn’t criminalized. Yet today, the hagiography of Stonewall is weaponized against homosexuals, used to say that homosexuals ‘owe’ transgender people their time, movement, and rights.

The brick-thrower, whoever they may be or even if they exist, did not then single-handedly create fifty years worth of LGBT activism. That was a collective project. It’s okay to acknowledge that. We do not need to mythologize the brick-thrower. I feel that any attempt to find the ‘first brick thrower’ or the one person who started Stonewall, or doling out credit for Stonewall marks a departure from historiography [source-based accounts and facts] into hagiography [mythologisation and idolisation]. No single figure was responsible for Stonewall, nor any single demographic, group, or social class. But one thing united them. At that moment, the moment the lesbian fought back, the moment the first objects were thrown, that one thing was their homosexuality — their love for the same sex. It’s time to re-establish that historical fact.» via Sue Donym’s ‘Stonewasn’t’ https://archive.is/tn6tl

More resources under the break.

Sue Donym also has an incredible archive of well-researched, sourced articles that are a valuable asset to the feminist movement. She got banned from Medium.com, but you can find her archive here: https://archive.is/eUOLD

Here’s a masterpost of TRA lies about stonewall: https://transgenderlies.tumblr.com/post/165438110827/countering-transgender-lies-about-stonewall

Here’s another masterpost of more resources you can look at: https://auntiewanda.tumblr.com/post/178824977986/feminism-what-kinda-terf-y-bullshit-all-that

And here’s a few neat little summaries regarding Stonewall, if you don’t feel like reading actual articles. But i do recommend you come back at a later time and actually read the articles, because it’s important for you to be able to engage with the literature and draw your own conclusions instead of having it spoonfed to you.

Here’s a masterpost of receipts regarding things the TRA movement has stolen and been disingenuous about.

Here’s the masterpost of all masterposts, on a wide variety of feminist topics, so you can look at resources and receipts to your heart’s content https://evil-wrongthink-lesbian.tumblr.com/post/652918840174460928/masterpost-of-masterposts

Here’s yet another masterpost: https://radfemhancock.tumblr.com/post/620852335187542016/masterpost-links-gendercrit-trans-people

Mind, you don’t have to read any of those links. It’s your choice what you read and what you look into and what you consume. I’m just trying to suggest that you maybe consider that you possibly haven’t looked at all the facts necessary in order to take an informed stance. If you read all these resources and still hold the same beliefs, then okay. I just ask that you try to look at some perspectives outside of your own.

Anyway it’s almost midnight and this is the longest thing i’ve written in quite a while so I’m gonna go tf to bed now peace XX

#radfem #radfems do interact #masterpost #reference #aj speaks #ref #radical feminism #masterlist

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imstudyingpsych · 3 years

Text

How I manage my time during an exam

“I didn’t answer three questions because there wasn’t enough time to do everything!!!”

Sounds familiar? Well, I bet everyone have had similar experiences before; you feel frustrated after sitting on an exam because the time is up before you could answer everything. Though some tests are initially designed to be almost impossible to be completed given the ratio of the questions and the time, acing an exam isn't all about mastering the subject you’ll be tested for; you'll also need strategies to effectively answer different types of questions with varying level of difficulties.

Here are some general “rules” that I personally like to keep in mind to maximize my time on doing different types of exams. As everything else, this is what works best for me and it might not suit your own preference, so please take everything with a grain of salt! I also think that these “tips” aren’t something revolutionary, but more like of a reminder for you (and me) if you ever needed one.

******

For a non-minus questions (that is, you get a 0 instead of a -1 for a wrong answer), I always prioritize filling up all the questions, no matter how hesitant I am about my answer. At least I have a chance of getting the right answer, rather than leaving it blank and discovered that what I hesitated over was the right answer.

My typical test-taking routine looks like this:

1. First round: I would read each questions in a skimming manner and answer what I can in a first glance. I do this because I always have this nagging feeling that if I try to comprehend everything right away, I would lose so much time and wouldn’t be able to answer all remaining questions.

MY GENERAL RULE: ALWAYS ANSWER THE EASY ONE FIRST AND SKIP THE HARDER ONES. If you dwell too much on the harder ones, especially if they’re in the early part of the test, you’ll lose so much time to answer other questions you could possibly answer. The definitions of “easy” and “hard” may vary from person to person, but I like to set them before test: on the first round of test-taking, I would skip questions that I couldn’t seem to answer after one or two attempt on completing it. My university online exam system allows me to “flag” or mark questions so I could come back to it later on. This also applies to the usual paper-and-pencil test where I would mark the questions I couldn’t answer on the first glance with an arterisk (*) beside the number or I would simply circle the number.

!! Try to define your own definition of “easy” and “hard” and stick to it. If you want to mark your question in a offline test, you can also come up with your own marking system. Just be sure to make it visible enough for you to notice it later!

2. Second round: in this round, I have usually answered some of the questions, and some that are still left blank. I would jump right away to the ones I haven’t answered and try to comprehend the questions more. I became more calm in this round, because at least I’ve taken a bird-eye look through all the questions in the previous round.

Repeat second round until every questions are filled, although some are still “flagged” as not-sure.

3. Third round: I’ll go through my filled-but-still-flagged questions and try to unflag them, so I’d be more sure about my answer.

4. Fourth round: assuming I still have enough time with all questions answered and everything free of “flag”, I will check on all of my answer from the start. This is mainly the goal of my strategy for exam taking; so I will still have time to review all of my answers.

5. Final round: review, review, review, until I’m satisfied!

Then submit!

ALWAYS ANSWER QUESTIONS WITH BIGGER POINTS FIRST. For example, if my Clinical Psychology test consists of 10 multiple choices @ 1 point each and 5 essay questions @ 5 points each, I’d definitely do the essay first, as it has bigger points that if I didn’t get to answer, will make me lose more points.

ALWAYS ANSWER QUESTIONS THAT REQUIRES HIGHER-ORDER THINKING FIRST / RECALL INSTEAD OF RECOGNITION, for example I’d choose to go over essay questions first before multiple choices because essay questions requires more time to generate the answer (as it usually requires more analytical thinking) and overall more time to write.

SET UP A “HESITATION” STANDARD for a question with minus point if answered false. It might differs from test to test and from person to person, but generally, if I’m 90% sure about my answer, I’ll answer it. If below, I wouldn’t answer it. I’d rather get a 0 rather than a -1.

***

Doing all the above, I’m able to maximize all the time I have for an exam. It might be hard sometimes, because life (or more like, real test) gets in the way sometimes, but I hope this post might help some of you, or at least you got some inspiration to try it too!

#study tips #exam tips #studyblr #studyspo #imstudyingpsych #studyinspo #study motivation #study guide #new studyblr #study blog #studytube #study community #eintsein #studyign #tbhstudying #high school tips #uni tips #college tips #study from home

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remember-to-be-gentle · 3 years

Note

what about reader summoning a demon in desperation after losing their job but they summon the wrong one? (Enji? Madara? Dabi? Miruko? Up to u it could be any1)

I made a header for this fic because it kept getting buried in my drafts also this fic is for you demon tail fuckers.

Subject: BNHA, Demon!Dabi aka Touya Todoroki

Title: How Much Does a Pound of Flesh Cost? (NSFW, fem reader)

Trigger Warning: Murder, demon summoning, workplace harassment, non con, cannibalism, loss of virginity/bad women’s anatomy, tail penetration, blood, crying, reader is in pain multiple times

You couldn’t take it anymore. The harassment, the taunting, the rumors. HR didn’t help and God knew if your lazy as hell boss was going to so much as glance in the direction of your problems. So you’d had to turn to other means.

It was a last resort, you’d told yourself that over and over again, only to be used if there was no other option. You couldn’t leave the job, it paid too well and no where would hire someone who quit after just three months on the job. Wiping tears out of your eyes, you drew the last parts of the upside pentagram on your hardwood floors, the chalk coming off in puffy chunks.

The upside down pentagram was ugly, no lines straight or even, but it should work, after all, summoning a demon didn’t require artistic talent, just desire. You grabbed the demon summoning book you’d gotten off Amazon and flipped to the page you’d bookmarked with sticky tabs and dried tears. In broken Latin and probably the worst accent ever, you read the words you’d only spoken in your fantasies and closed your eyes.

There was power in them, you could tell, though you weren’t sure exactly how much power would come from them. And just as quickly as the power had built, it crashed. Terrified your eyes shot open, fear gripping your heart. Had you failed? Did you really fail in your final attempt to save yourself?

And then you saw it.

Him.

The demon in the circle.

He smirked at you from where he laid in the chalk, hair so dark red it was black, eyes blue as the hottest part of the flame, skin either charred in patches or pale and smooth, staples keeping it all together. Two bull-like horns grew from his head and a long devil’s tail whipped about behind him. “Hey, doll,” he said, “what can I do you for?”

You’d prepared yourself for this. Demons were tricky with their words and quick to act, it was best to find out what they wanted before you told them why they were summoned. “Tell me what I have to pay first.”

“Doll,” he groaned, his body rising like a rag doll. His head flopped forward, those burning blue eyes zeroing in on you, “I can’t bill you if you don’t tell me what you want.”

Shit, maybe you didn’t have the edge you thought you did. You swallowed and said, “I want... I want to make my coworkers suffer like they made me suffer. I want them to hurt—on the inside! I don’t want to see them bleed out or anything...”

The demon made a rumbling noise, your apartment shaking with him, picture frames rattling and furniture shaking. “You wish for them experience the same pain you did, pain that’s on the inside...” He drifted closer to you, an electric aura of malice surrounding him, “And you don’t want to see them bleed. Tricky, tricky.” His tail whipped again. “I think I would like my price to be...” He stopped right in front of you and smiled wide, showing off sharp canines built for tearing flesh, “My price will be your mucous.”

You blinked. “My mucous?”

He whipped his tail again, the tip of it suddenly right at your nose. “If you agree to the terms then eat of my flesh and your will shall become mine.”

“Wait,” your mind was steal reeling from his price and now he wanted you bite his tail off? The book hadn’t said anything about this.

“Every second you hesitate,” the demon growled, “is another second of your torment. Eat and be fulfilled.”

“Fine, okay.” He really wasn’t giving you time to think about this. You opened your mouth and he thrust in his tail, hard, the tip making it halfway down your throat, choking you for as heat crowded your face. For several swollen seconds you stayed there choking on his tail before instinct had you slamming your teeth down.

The tail snapped apart easily, the taste of pig skin a ghost on your tongue as the tail dropped down your esophagus and into your stomach. The weight of your deal hung heavily in your belly.

Heat erupted from your stomach, the taste of smoke overpowering your senses, burning your nose until you collapsed on the floor gasping for breath. Tears spilled over down your cheeks, carrying with it the sensation of burning, as if you’d been consumed in hellfire. The weight of the demon’s tail vanished.

When you finally caught your breath, you saw the demon was gone, leaving no trace behind except for the chalk circle that had been reshaped to read D̦̠̝̻̱̦̮̲̫̅̃́͂̈́͢͝͞Ȧ̸̧̫̠̦̬̞͛̽͐͆͜͝B̵̝̼̗̠̺̳̓̈͌͊̔͊́̀͞I̵͎͔͔͍̫͛̊̏͘͜͠.

*******************************************************************************************

With no idea when the demon would come back for his payment, you were left with no choice but to go to work. Your stomach twisted in terrorized knots. You didn’t want to confront them, look them in the eye and know that their hatred wouldn’t vanish without demonic intervention, but you’d used all your sick days and your rent wouldn’t pay itself.

The building was empty, which wasn’t unusual this early in the morning, though it concerned you the security guards weren’t in their places. You got into the elevator and took a deep breath. Alright,

You slowly entered the office and noticed first the silence. No fingers clacking keyboards. No rising bubbles from the water cooler. No idle chatter. No one seated in their cubicle. Nothing. Not even security making their rounds.

As you walked through the maze of cubicles, a terrible stench invaded your nostrils, making your stomach twist. It was coming from the board room. You slowly made your way over, bile lapping at the back of your throat with each step closer, nausea swelling in your skull until you were dizzy. The carpet had claw marks coming from all over the office, as if something had been dragged away. Some cubicle walls were smashed or broken. You kept walking toward the smell.

And then you saw it.

Inside the glass meeting room, surrounding the large wooden table, were all your coworkers. Not a single one of them so much as twitched, their skin was purple and blotchy, nearly black in some spots. Internal bleeding, you recognized immediately, they’d either been beaten so bad their organs ruptured or something inside them had been torn them apart. Either way you needed to get out of—

“Hey doll,” Dabi the demon slithered out from the shadows, his voice making the room rumble like he had in your house, “like what I’ve done with the place?”

You stared at him in horror. “You... you did this?”

“I did,” he floated toward the table, newly regrown tail whipping behind him, “and it was fun, too. Its been a while since I’ve been asked to kill without leaving a trace. You’re a surprisingly naughty girl.”

“No! I didn’t want you to kill them! I wanted them to hurt like I did—”

“Doll.” His voice terrorized you and forced you still, a demonic force so dark and ugly that your nearly vomitted. “You asked me to hurt them like they hurt you. You understand I can’t make them feel anything that isn’t...” He ran a blue fingernail over one of your coworkers darkened faces, “physical.” He wrapped his tail around their throat, shaking their head back and forth. “So I did what you asked, I made them hurt without letting them bleed out. All the bleeding is internal, where it’s supposed to be, and just like you requested.”

“No, no, you should have said something if that was the case! I didn’t want anyone to die!”

“But then you wouldn’t have taken my deal,” he pouted, releasing your coworker to approach you, still floating, “and then I wouldn’t have gotten paid. Besides, didn’t they hurt you so badly you wanted to die? You summoned a demon to hurt them after all, and even agreed to pay my price.”

His payment that’s right it was... mucous. “Why do you want mucous, anyway?”

He ran a hand down your nose and then hooked his finger into your nostril, forcing you to look up at him. Sharp pain erupted in your skin but the deadly look in his eye made you keep quiet. “Did you think this is what I wanted? Oh no, you poor silly, little thing. I don’t know a soul would have use for your disgusting boogers.” His tail whipped forward and slid into your pants, ungraciously rubbing against your slit, “This is the mucous I want. Your hymen.”

You tried to step away but Dabi hooked his fingers deeper, pulling up and making you scream from the pain. "You tricked me! I didn't agree to this!"

Dabi chuckled darkly. "Next time ask clarifying questions, babe." He sharply removed his fingers, letting you fall on the floor. He didn't let you catch your breath, grabbing you by the back of your shirt and throwing you on the table.

Your head hit the solid wood first, hard, marking your teeth rattle and skull bounce, the rest of your body forcing you to slide to the end of the table. A groan escaped your throat and when you tried to sit up, your face was just inches from your dead boss's. You shrieked and tried to scramble away, but Dabi pinned you down, one hand on your back, the other yanking your pants off. “Stop!” You screamed, “This isn’t what I wanted!”

You felt his tail circle your entrance, the tapered point pressing into your clit until you squirmed. It pulled your panties aside and felt the slick that had gathered, far too much for just rubbing your slit. It must have been some kind of demon magic that got him what he wanted faster. “This isn’t about what you want anymore,” he sneered in your ear, “your request is fulfilled, now pay up.” His tail slid inside you, suddenly much larger than you remembered seeing or swallowing, stretching out your insides as the tapered point met your cervix.

But it kept growing.

The tail’s girth continued to swell inside you, breaking your tight rings of untouched muscle as your core clenched around it. No matter how much you wanted to hate it, it felt good all the way inside you, reaching parts of you that had remained clean until now, and then the pain kicked in again.

The discomfort before had been an uncomfortable adjustment, slightly itchy if anything, but now it was searing, your insides feeling like they’d been torn apart and gutted. You shrieked, nails digging into the wood of the table. You swung your hips back and forth as if that would make him remove his tail but it only made the tip press harder against your cervix.

Dabi shoved your hips back down against the table. “Relax, I’m almost done.”

Each swell of his tail was excruciating, tears welling up in your eyes from the pain.

It seemed to reach a maximum painful girth, stuck inside you as your insides twisted. And faster than it had grown, his tail shrunk back down to normal and slid out of you. You could feel blood following after, dripping out of your entrance and onto the board meeting table.

Dabi started to lift himself up and you thought he was done, contract complete, but you heard him unzip his pants and before you could process exactly what was coming next, something new pressed inside you. It didn’t hurt as much as the tail, but it was much hotter, pushing all the way inside you until something warm and squishy pressed against your clit. Your sore insides itched and clung at the object, making you whimper. “This,” Dabi groaned, “is your tip.”

He pulled back and slammed back in, your torn core making you see stars from the sharp pain. His dick. He’d put this demon fucking dick inside you. You screamed and tried to thrash, but Dabi was so much bigger than you. So much stronger. All you really ended up doing was humping his cock and crying.

He simply ignored you and pumped roughly into you, his heavy balls slamming against your clit with each downstroke. You kept crying and thrashing and Dabi must have gotten annoyed with you because he growled, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. Just stay still and let me take what I want.”

You choked out a sob, failing at swallowing the tears that slid down your cheeks and onto the table. With your boss’s dead eyes staring into you, you did your best to ignore the rough thrusting of the demon you’d sold your virginity to. You’d paid for revenge and lost far more than you’d bargained for.

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httpjungkookcom · 4 years

Text

break the bat 2 | (m)

Pairing | jungkook x reader

Work Count | 6744

Genre | baseball player!jungkook, coach’s daughter!reader, porn with a pretty decent plot?

Summary | after promising jungkook a reward if he won the game, who are you to deny him that? and he’s more ecstatic than ever to receive it.

Index | sexual content, dirty talking, mentions of bondage, fingering, oral (female and male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (stay safe kids), multiple orgasms, over-stimulation, shaking, hair pulling, daddy kink, face fucking, more mid-sex love confessions uwu, ummmm just wild stuff

Warning? | there’s mentioned memberxmember, but it doesn’t do into detail. just in case that’s not really your cup of tea.

Requests | baseball player jungkook with feelings for coaches daughter? maybe some smut...jk…unless??? is there going to be a part two to break the bat?

"Kook, wake up," You groaned, placing your hands on his bare chest in an attempt to push him away from you. He didn't react at all as he flopped onto his back, completely unbothered in his deep sleep. You smiled gently at him, cupping his face before deciding the incoming sun was getting too hot on your bare skin.

You didn't have to be at the field until around 9, your tournaments beginning around 10. You silently thanked whatever woke you up, the clock blinking 7:00 back at you. This gave you enough time to take a shower and get dressed, allowing yourself to indulge in the gentle floral scents that Jungkook personally likes. Walking back out of his bathroom, Jungkook hadn't moved an inch in his sleep, sun flowing over his golden skin. You wouldn't help but ogle at him, taking in every small detail that had previously slipped your mind. After a minute or so, you reminded yourself that you had to get dressed.

Jungkook's drawers were ravished as you searched for his Adidas, accompanied by a mustard stain that Jungkook has never cared to scrub out. It was barely noticeable, especially when paired with an over sized t-shirt that he loved wearing. Both pieces of clothes smelled like a faint, gentle detergent. Taehyung had told you that Jungkook had a sensitive nose months back, which you connected to why no scent was overbearing in his room.

"Kook," You tried waking him up again, getting no response in return. You finally succumbed to nagging temptation, walking over and cuddling up next to him. "Kook, you gotta wake up now. It's 8." You mumbled against his skin, shaking his shoulders lightly at first. This got you nowhere, causing you to climb onto your knees for more leverage.

After a few more, aggressive, shakes he slowly peeled his eyes open. "What?" He mumbled, voice groggy as he fought his eyes open. He propped himself up on his elbows, glancing around the room with a slightly lost expression. He must've stayed in that same position for 10 minutes, half asleep.

"Your tournament, get ready weirdo. Put some pants on." You laughed, sliding out of the bed and pulling the curtains open more to light up the room. "We have to be there around 9, so you have an hour." You explained, picking his room up slightly just so it's manageable.

"Wait a minute..." He mumbled, sitting up and looking around the room. "Last night, that was?" You could tell he was trying to figure out if it actually happened, searching for any signs of your clothes that would've been on the floor. His face scrunched up as he couldn't find anything, confusion was evident.

"What are you talking about?" You giggled, walking over to where his legs rested on the floor. You smoothed his hair our, bedhead causing it to stick up in numerous places. "Was it real?" You smiled, bending over to crash your lips onto his. Jungkook immediately smirked, reaching to grip your sides. He let himself fall backward, causing you to tumble onto him while giggling.

"So it was?" He smiled, pushing his plain black t-shirt out of the way to view the light marks spanning your neck. "Hm, round two?" He smirked as he grabbed your wrists, making some sort of an attempt to flip both of you over.

"No," You laughed, pushing yourself up and off of him before you had you pinned down. He cocked an eyebrow, watching you walk back across the room to continue cleaning up. "Shower and I'll get started on breakfast."

"Are you planning on joining me, babe?" Jungkook asked, throwing the blankets off of him and standing up. You fought back a smile as he shuffled over to you, a mysterious glint hidden in his eyes. "Come on, let's go take a shower."

"Get away from me." You laughed, staring at his bare body and slowly shuffling to dodge his open arms. You let out a loud squeal as he lunged for you, closing his arms as he tried to capture you. You immediately jumped out of the way, making a break for the door.. "Go take a shower nasty!" You laughed hysterically, running into the kitchen.

Nothing could prepare you for the sight of Jungkook sprinting after you, chasing you into the living room before eventually trapping you on one side of the couch. "Nasty?" He laughed, pinning you against the wall. "Do you want me to show you nasty?" He whispered against your skin, sliding one arm under your shirt. His fingertips gently traced the lace edge of your bralette, goosebumps spanning your skin.

"Jungkooookkk," You complained, pushing against him as he began to laugh. You could only pout at him as he pulled away from you, doe eyes narrow from smiling so hard.

"Fine, I'll take a shower. I guess I'll have to help myself though." He giggled, leaning forward to peck your lips in a sweet kiss. His face lingered for a second, breath fanning across your lips.

"Thank god you have a right hand." You teased, pushing him in the direction of his bathroom. He mocked you the whole time to his bathroom, putting extra emphasis on each word as he whined. You smiled, going into the kitchen to make pancakes for the both of you. There are two things that you learned, 1) Jungkook never does dishes. And 2) Jungkook never fucking goes grocery shopping.

"Jungkook! You have nothing to make breakfast with!" You complained, feeling as though your cute morning plans were crushed. You could barely hear his voice over the running water, only making out the words ramen and pizza. You began to seriously question your relationship choices.

"We can go out after I get dressed." He sang happily as he walked from the bathroom to his room. You rolled your eyes from the couch, glancing over Jungkook's collection of games and Funko pops. "What was the uniform for today again? Black jersey and white pants?"

"White jersey and black pants, black socks. You had a 50/50 shot and you got it wrong, kook." You laughed, waiting for any sort of snarky response from him. You could only hear faint laughing from the other room, figuring that he was busy getting dressed. You turned around as you heard the door click open, a dressed Jungkook popping out. "You look nice."

"Can't say the same for you." He smiled, gathering water bottles before heading over to his bag that lay by the front door.

"Asshole." You laughed with him, snatching his keys off the kitchen counter and making your way outside. Jungkook was still laughing as he walked outside, bag clonking quietly behind him as he walked down the steps. You could only smile at him, helping him throw his bags into the trunk along with a small cooler he always brings.

"Panera? I'm in the mood for an egg sandwich and sausage," Jungkook explained as he began driving, backing out of the driveway. "What are you thinking?"

"That you shouldn't eat heavy before a game." You ridiculed, jabbing at his ribs slightly. He only smiled at you, clicking the music on full blast before speeding down the road. The car drive was relatively silent, both of you tired from the night before and having nothing to say. Your heart swelled as he reached over and interlocked your fingers, eyes never leaving the road as he gently squeezed.

"...I'm still getting that egg sandwich." He giggled as he pulled into a parking space, turning the ignition off and peering over to you.

"You seem to be on cloud nine today." You laughed, raising a questioning eyebrow in his direction. He smiled in return, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Why are you in such a good mood?"

"I don't know, waking up next to you made me happy, gorgeous." He winked, reaching over to grab a handful of your thigh. You scrunched your face in fake disgust, smacking his hand away before climbing out of the car. Jungkook laughed as you slammed the door, following your lead right after. "Okay really, what are you getting?"

"Probably just the egg and ham sandwich and um...the mango tea maybe?" You shrugged, holding the door open for him, "Ladies first." You teased, watching him impersonate you while going in.

"We'll probably have to get it to go, we're running short on time." He explained, checking his phone that was tucked in his back pocket. You could only roll your eyes, watching him walk up and speed order your food. "Yeah, yeah. That's it." He smiled, pulling out his card.

By the change in his demeanor, you knew he wasn't going to let you push past him to pay. All of his weight was now flat-footed, meaning it would be almost impossible to move him. "Kook, why do we do this every single time? I'll pay."

"My treat babe." He smiled, getting his card and receipt back as he finished his sentence. "Go get your tea." He giggled, handing you your cup and brushing you off towards the beverages. You weren't going to win this argument anytime soon, accepting your defeat and walking away. You could see Jungkook waiting by the service area, standing patiently as they made your breakfast. After getting your drink, you shuffled over to where he stood and happily cuddled into his chest.

You smiled slightly as you felt his arms wrap around you, feeling as though you would easily fall asleep in his arms. "Kook, you really wanna win today, right?" You mumbled into his jersey, the material feeling weird brushing against your lips.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" He asked, glancing down to you. This resulted in a double chin that made you giggle.

"Good thing, because that deal last night is still on." You laughed, his face contorting into confusion as he tried to recall last night. The look of relaxation was obvious as it flashed over his face, eyes narrowing slightly and arms tightening around you. "Hm?"

"Don't say that go grab your breakfast," Jungkook said, letting you go before nodding his head towards the counter.

"Are you eating on the way there? I'll drive because i'll probably wait until we get there." He nodded to answer your questions, digging around for his keys and plopping them in your hand. The ride was almost silent, the sound of Jungkook aggressively chewing filling up the silence. Nothing needed to be said, both of you otherwise content.

Getting to the field was easily the most stressful part, teammates, as well as opponents, staring the two of you down. Jimin's sly smirk never left his face, even as both of you walked into the dugout. "Why are you pulling his bag?" Jimin asked, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who continued to inhale his food. "He's too sore?" He laughed.

"Jimin, be quiet." You laughed, walking over and beginning to smack his arm. He only laughed, never backing out as he reached up to pull down the collar of your shirt.

"Interesting discovery." He stated, causing you to laugh even harder before backing out of a fight you weren't going to win. "Anyway, you still owe me that smoothie."

"Of course, Jimin." You smiled, taking your designated seat on the benches. You always had the closest seat to home plate, allowing you to see if the umpire calls a bad strike. Jungkook immediately followed suit, plopping on top of you like an upset toddler. "Come on, get your cleats on and go warm up."

"Will you tie them for me?" He asked, peering up at you.

"Get off of me." You smiled, pushing him off of your lap and sending him to the dirty floor. Everyone giggled, all elbowing each other to get more eyes on him. Jungkook joined in, leaving you with his drink and beginning to get ready for the game. He shoved his feet into his cleats, refusing to untie them because he didn't "want to waste time."

"What are we doing? One lap and then stretch?" Taehyung asked, ruffling his hair as he rustled through his bag that was currently on the ground.

"Yeah, sounds good to me." Jungkook agreed, beginning to walk out of the dugout and onto the field. The team naturally followed his lead, all running behind him as he started. While there was absolutely no rush before the game, Jungkook and Jimin began to race around the field. You only laughed, the two boys' neck and neck as they tried to be first.

Jungkook only put his full 100% in when he noticed Jimin was ahead in the turn, now full-on sprinting. Due to his competitive nature, Jungkook ended up first in the dugout followed by a close Jimin. "You feel accomplished, big man?" You laughed over the clinking of metal cleats on concrete, both of them panting.

"Damn right." He laughed, spinning around and heading to lead the group stretch. The game was relatively uneventful, Jungkook's skill as a pitcher never fail to amaze you. His throws were consistent, Jimin easily picking every single strike dead on. You sat through 7 innings pretty relaxed, until the 8th where things start to get rocky.

Jungkook wasn't throwing like he had been the last few hours, release point drastically changing as at least 2 hit the ground before even reaching Jimin. He struggled through that inning, entering the 9th with a very bad attitude.

"Jungkook, come here." You mumbled, watching him rip open his bag in search of his gloves. He completely ignored you, rummaging around and in the process throwing his helmet. "Jeon, come sit down." You repeated, watching his shoulders finally un-tense as he walked over. "What's wrong?"

"They got 3 runs just that inning because of my pitching. Now we have to come up by at least 2 and then hold them. If we only get two, we have to make sure they get none." He stressed, leaning a majority of his body weight against you. "I don't know what I was doing, it's like my hands were frogs and the ball was a fly."

You laughed at the weird and out of place comparison, making him smile up at you. "Listen, I'm sure you were just getting tired. Maybe your muscles are reaching their ending point for today." You gripped his bicep, feeling the muscle tense and strained from throwing pitch after pitch. In the meantime, you tried to massage it out.

"You're good at this. Maybe you can give me a full body massage after the game." He hummed in your lap, letting his eyes close.

"Don't make me throw you onto the floor." You threatened, watching him open one eye to look at you. He immediately smiled, relaxing in your lap almost completely now. "Hey, you're up on deck next. Hit a home run for me." You jabbed lightly at his ribs, prompting him to sit up and pull his gloves on. He rolled his eyes, struggling up and shuffling out.

As he walked to the on-deck circle, he began to make faces at you. This lasted until the batter before him struck out, leaving him slightly disgruntled as now there were only two more outs. Jimin was on second with Jungkook up, meaning that there was a good chance Jimin would get home. Jungkook watched the first strike go past him, nodding his head before stepping out. You were at the fence now, peering out to watch.

"Crush it, crush it, crush it, crush it, crush it," You chanted, squeezing your hands together as he stepped back in. You swore your back was sweating now, eyes wide as he set up. The next pitch was going to be a strike, Jungkook swinging faster than he ever has before. You couldn't exactly register the loud crack of the bat, but you watched as the ball went flying out into the deep left field.

The dugout became alive, jumping and screaming as Jimin was running home. Jungkook hesitated at 2nd, deciding he was going to go for three as the throw was coming in. "JUNGKOOK SLIDE, DOWN DOWN DOWN." You screeched, vein popping out of your neck as you watched the slide.

It wasn't the prettiest, Jungkook's never were. But it got him there fast enough to be called safe at 3rd. You felt relief wash over you, shoulders dropping as Jungkook picked himself back up. You needed one more run to be in the lead, just one more and Jungkook was in a good position to be that one. The backstop was pretty far back, so if the catcher misses the ball Jungkook could easily beat him to the plate. As long as he didn't hesitate, he'd be there.

"Jimin, I can't watch." You mumbled, turning around and smacking your head rather aggressively into his chest.

"He's going to steal if it gets past him, look at his lead off," Jimin whispered, grabbing you by your shoulder to quickly spin you around. His lead-off was big, starting as soon as the ball left the pitchers hand. He also didn't pack down from the catcher, staying in the baseline even when the catcher threatened to throw. "He's stubborn."

"Yeah, tell me about it." You laughed, watching pitch after pitch goes by. You swear you stopped breathing when the ball went past the catcher, rolling to the fence. Jungkook also jumped, taking off full speed to the plate. He'd have to beat the ball there, diving headfirst into the plate. That dive was ugly, feet flying up to his head from his momentum. The catcher also ran over, covering the plate as well as slamming into Kook's body.

"What the fuck was that?" Jimin asked, dropping his catcher's mitt as he waited for the call. Both you and Jimin held your breath, umpire seemingly thinking for a few moments.

"Safe."

You both screamed, grabbing each other's arms and beginning to jerk each other around. Jungkook was embarrassed jogging into the dugout, clay all over his uniform and face. You laughed at him, brushing the clay off of his face and neck. "Are you okay? Is your head okay?" You bombarded him with questions, massaging his arm again.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay." He nodded, gulping down his water and walking to sit down for a few minutes.

"Okay, all you have to do is hold them okay? Take your time, breathe in between pitches, think before you throw the ball." You coached, watching as he stared at you with a soft smile. "You guys can do this. Jimin isn't going to let any past him, right Jimin?"

"Right." He nodded firmly, making Jungkook laugh.

"The rest of the field is set up perfectly too, best players that I've ever had the pleasure of watch-"

Jungkook smashed his lips onto yours, effectively shutting your rambling up. Your face flushed red, making you stare at your hands when he finally pulled away. "You're so cute when you ramble. You're starting to make me think you want this more than I do." Jungkook raised his eyebrow, getting up from the bench to grab his glove. You flushed more, having no comeback to throw at him other than shut up.

"Hold them." Is all you said as positions changed, Jungkook now on the field while the other team batted. You watched them warm up, Jungkook focusing on throwing strikes and Jimin focusing on catching every single one. You felt confident as the field got out the first two batters at 1st base, easily picking their infield hits off.

"Plays at one, let's get it." Jungkook smiled, shaking his shoulders loose before preparing for the next pitch. It was a strike, nerves spiking as Jungkook became more and more focused. He wanted to strike him out, his demeanor changing completely.

It was a full count, three balls and two strikes. You held your breath as he threw the last one, right down the center of the plate. A swing and a miss, the batter too confident in his abilities to hit a seemingly easy pitch. Jungkook glanced at you for a split second, smirk evident across his shit-eating face before getting surrounded by his team. There was a small team meeting before your dad dismissed the team, everyone, including yourself, huddled together to listen.

Jungkook stood directly behind you, not so discretely snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Taehyung glanced over to you two, a look of understanding washing over his face. He immediately elbowed Yoongi in the ribs, meaning that he won a bet with someone over the two of you. Yoongi wouldn't place a bet with him, leaving you to wonder what poor soul owed him money.

"I have nothing else to say, Jungkook? You want to add anything?" Your dad asked, glancing over the two of you with a look of approval.

"Yes, good game guys. You all placed your absolute hardest today and we came out on top. Coach, always, thank you for guiding us. And y/n, thank you for constantly bullying me to be better." Jungkook laughed, watching as you spun around to hit him.

"Seems like I need to bully you more than." You shot back, making everyone at least chuckle.

"But yeah, that's all. I'll see you guys Monday." Coach finished, walking into the dugout to collect his things before leaving.

"Ugh, Taehyung. Who did you make a bet with this time?" Jungkook asked, letting go of your waist to begin walking into the dugout. You could hear Tae cackling, face turning a slight pink. "I'm serious, how much did you bet them for?"

"I bet Yugyeom $100. He thought he knew your guy's relationship better than I did and I had to prove him wrong." He giggled.

"I called half of the profit. Double stamps, no take-backs." You quickly said, smacking the bench to finalize your point. Tae just stared at you, realizing there is no sense in arguing. Instead, he put you in a headlock and began talking about how you're stealing his money. "Tae! Stop." You laughed, gripping onto his arms.

He ruffled your hair one last time before letting you go, immediately spinning around to run out of the dugout. "Anyway...If I'm not mistaken someone owes me a milkshake." Jimin piped up, crossing his arms.

"Don't even give me that." You laughed, "Let's just go. You wanna ask some of the team if they wanna come?" You offered, making everyone shrug. While you guys did ask everyone, besides the people who already left, it was only you, Jungkook and Jimin going. You already knew Jimin was going to ask questions, just from his know it all attitude.

"So, are you going to tell me how it was or are you guys just gonna keep blushing at each other?" Jimin asked as you all sat down, milkshake in hand with an additional cookie that he suckered you into buying. You wish you could punch him from across the table, you do. "Come on, you act like I haven't been your friend for 4 years."

"Yeah? How did you know Jungkook was big? Lingering eyes in the locker room or-"

"Jungkook used to be insecure when he was younger so he showed me and asked for my opinion-"

"Okay, that's enough." Jungkook interpreted both of you, Jimin and you laughing yourself into tears.

"It was good, Jimin. Slept well last night." You laughed, stirring your tea around as you thought about last night. You could see Jimin and Jungkook glancing at each other, seemingly talking without even saying anything. "Okay, you guys don't have to do that. Acting all telepathic and shit."

"I was just thinking it must have been really good if you're wearing Jungkook's over-sized shirt and pants. You look like a crackhead." You honestly couldn't even argue with that call, only laughing as Jimin looked over to Jungkook, who was ready to disagree. "Look at your boyfriend, getting all puffed up at me." You only laughed, shaking your head as the two of them began to argue.

It was like a movie, sitting with a milkshake while watching one of your best friends and boyfriend fight over the smallest thing. You smiled fondly, watching Jungkook's face heat up in embarrassment as people looked over at them. "Okay, stop." You laughed, setting a leg across Kook's lap since he had raised from arguing. Jimin was smug across from the two of you, seemingly winning the dumb stare off they had. "So what about you, Jimin? You fucking or what?"

It was now Jimin's turn to flush a bright red, immediately being knocked off of his high stool. Jungkook jumped, eyes wide as Jimin was hiding something. "Who is it?" He asked, reaching over the table and beginning to search for marks. Jimin didn't recoil, instead, beginning to swat his hands away with a ferocity you've never witnessed.

"Who is it? Yoongi?" You whispered, watching as both of the men stopped their childish battle. Jungkook's eyes were wide, Jimin's were even wider as if you guessed it. "Oh my god, it is isn't it?!" You cackled, watching Jimin slump in his seat with a small sigh.

"Awe man, it's alright. We already knew." Jungkook immediately said, reaching over to smack Jimin in a "bro" way. Jimin seemingly relaxed, a soft smile covering his face.

"How is he? Is it good?" You smirked, beginning to slide your foot up his leg. Jimin blushed, smacking your leg away. Jungkook must've followed suit, Jimin slapping another foot away from him.

"You two are too similar, what? Was that a telepathic plan?" He grumbled, folding his legs under him. You all just laughed, dropping the subject as Jimin didn't feel like talking about it. You guys ate together, talking about whatever came up at the table, a majority was the baseball game and Jungkook's stolen home plate.

A small ding rung throughout the table, all heads being picked up and pointed to the sound. It was Jimin's phone, lying face-up on the table. You and Jungkook immediately jumped, searching the screen for a name. "Yoongi-Hyung!" Jungkook laughed, watching Jimin flush as he opened the text and read it. It was silent as you waited for a response, Jimin typing quickly before hitting send.

"I...I got to go. Sorry guys." Jimin blushed, beginning to gather his things and throw away his trash. You and Jungkook cackled, beginning to elbow and smack each other.

"You hear the Kook? Jimin's gonna get a dicking down." You whispered, just loud enough for Jimin to hear without unsuspecting ears to. Jimin didn't answer back, blushing in front of you. Jungkook and yourself cleaned up, leaving at the same time as the older boy.

"Just messing with you Jimin. Have fun." Jungkook laughed as you walked out of the restaurant, pulling Jimin into a hug. You followed right after, wrapping your arms around him and patting his back. "Bye Jimin."

"Bye Jimin." You smiled, waving as he began to walk to his car. You and Kook did the same, walking over to the seemingly out of place mustang and climbing in.

"About that promise," Jungkook smirked, starting the car. You could only smile as he waited for a response, eventually breaking into a burst of giggles as Jungkook got impatient waiting. "Ugh, babe are you serious?" He whined, making you laugh even harder.

"I'm just messing with you, the promise is still there." You laughed, watching as his eyes widened and he began to speed up. You were for sure over the speed limit, racing to his house that was maybe 5 minutes away at most. "Someone's excited." You giggled, tightening the seat belt as you normally do when he gets like this.

"You're lucky I don't make you give me head as I drive." He mumbled, a small growl escaping his lips as he continued to speed. Your eyes widened slightly, Jungkook immediately noticing and reacting. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He raised an eyebrow, his eyes shifting from the road to your reaction every few seconds.

"What? ...No." You stated, watching as he cackled at your completely failed attempt to even try and hide the way you felt. "Whatever! Just focus on the road before you kill us! You're so impatient." You whined, crossing your arms and beginning to pout unconsciously.

"Cute babe didn't know you were that nasty." He smiled, focusing on the road indefinitely now. The ride was silent, both of you focused on other things that words weren't exactly at the forefront of your mind. You both knew exactly what was in store as Jungkook parked in the driveway, both of you sharing a challenging look before climbing out of the car. He fumbled with the lock for far too long, making you laugh at him.

"Why are you so nervous?" You laughed, helping him with the lock. Jungkook didn't answer your question, a small hum the only thing you got from him. The door finally clicked open, both of you rushing in and licking the door closed behind you. Jungkook immediately pounced on you, impatience showing as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. "Jungkook." You giggled into his mouth as he began to nibble on your bottom lip, roughly slotting your mouths together.

"Fuck." He moaned, walking backward and pinning you to the wall. A small moan escaped your mouth, hips bucking forward to make contact with his own. Your hands slid down his body, finding his jersey tucked in when you tried to slip your hand under. A small grunt of frustration came, followed by ripping the jersey from his baseball pants. "I'm the impatient one?" He smirked, helping you untuck it.

"Shut up." You mumbled against his skin, finally sliding both of your hands under his jersey and running them along his skin. Small whimpers fell from you, followed by content sighs from Jungkook above you. "Jungkook, can we-"

"Try again." He growled into your mouth, letting his hands run down your body. After a moment of confusion, you realized what he wanted.

"Daddy, can we go to the bedroom?" You smirked, giving him the best puppy eyes you could. He instantly caved, leading the way with you following close behind. He fell onto the bed first, leaving you to climb on top of him in a very similar manner as last night. "Seems familiar, no?" You giggled, sliding your hands under his jersey and beginning to hike it up.

He also smiled, leaning forward to allow you to pull the shirt off. He quickly pulled the over-sized shirt off of your body, throwing it onto the floor. "You look so pretty, baby." He smiled, sitting up to trace the marks on your skin. You blushed, wrapping your arms around his shoulder to kiss him deeply.

"I love you." You hummed, beginning to kiss down his jaw and neck. Jungkook immediately got comfortable on the bed, stuffing pillows behind his head to watch your movements. Both of his arms rested above his head, looking smugger than ever. You continued your way down his body, licking across his abs and exposed hip bones.

"Babe, come on." He warned, reaching down and gently gripping your hair in his palms. You could only smile, slowly undoing the belt and pulling his pants down. To save time, you pulled everything down in one go. "Oh, shit." He mumbled, exposed to the cool air and his hard-on hitting his lower abdomen.

"Yes, you are the impatient one." You laughed, answering his question from before as you fully pulled his pants down.

"Okay baby, let me see what you got." He smiled, one of his hands gently holding your hair while the other rested behind his head. You rested in between his legs, eyes level with his cock. You smiled up at him, licking a slow strip from the base to the tip. His head was already thrown back as you swirled around his tip, gently sucking him into his mouth.

"Daddy, you're so sensitive." You smiled, watching as his abs clenched after barely touching him. He didn't respond until you begin to sink onto his length, tongue flat against him as you took him into your throat.

"Holy shit." He whined, bucking up involuntarily. You could feel your eyes get watery, coming back up and sinking back down. Your pace started slow, speeding up until you were quickly bobbing on his length. Jungkook was sensitive to your touch, whines, and groans slipping past his lips as his hips constantly jerked up.

"Daddy, fuck my face." You finally stated, watching as his eyes widened and he immediately reacted. You were soon switched position-wise, Jungkook's length hovering over your face as his arms held up his body. You could see his demeanor shift as he sunk into your mouth, a low growl slipping from his mouth as he began to thrust into your throat.

"You dirty little slut," He growled, one hand coming down to grip at the base of your hair. "Taking my cock so well."

A whimper came from you, vibrations felt instantly as Jungkook thrust deeper into your mouth, skin pressed against your nose. Spit dribbled from the corner of your mouth, coating Jungkook's length each time he sunk into you. After one last deep thrust, he pulled completely off. "Strip for me." He ordered, no room for questioning as you climbed to sit in front of him.

Jungkook watched intently as you ran your hands along your body, easily popping your bra off and playing with your boobs in front of him. He gave you a questioning look, urging you to move on with your show. You did, running your hands along your body to meet with Jungkook's Adidas. You slowly pushed them down, letting them drop down to your feet to easily step out. You were now left in your panties, deciding Jungkook may like to take them off himself.

"Come here." Jungkook smiled, opening his arms to let you fall into. He quickly flipped the two of you over, gently kissing you as he slowly sunk to your hips. "I love you." He giggled, beginning to slowly pull your panties down. You smiled as he laid on his stomach, arms snaking around to pin your hips down. He began to lick slow strips across your heat, using just enough pressure to make you arch up into him.

Gentle moans filled the room as he continued, picking up his speed and slowly introducing his fingers. "Are you gonna come on my fingers like the good slut you are? Just like last night?" He mumbled against you, making quick work of you. A loud whine filled the room, hands reaching down to tangle themselves in his hair as he sunk two fingers in.

"No, no. I wanna...come on your cock." You whined, letting your hips buck down onto his fingers.

"Hm, is that so?" Jungkook smirked, pulling away from you. You propped yourself up, watching him suckle on his fingers to taste you. "What if I don't let you?"

"Jungkook!" You warned, watching as he sat himself in between your legs, pulling your calves over his hips. He smirked, taking his length in his hand and just barely rubbing it across your clit. "Daddy, please fuck me. I'm on birth control, please!" He didn't respond, continuing to rub against your clit. You were on the verge of begging now, desperate for him. He finally cracked, easily slipping in with just how wet you were.

Your hips instantly jerked forward, pleasure shooting throughout your body as he buried himself in. Jungkook giggled above you, holding your shaking legs in his palms. "What is it baby doll?" He smirked, rubbing your still shaky legs as he slowly began to move. He rested your legs on the bends of his arms, leaning forward to place his hands on either side of you. You were effectively folded in half, Jungkook holding eye contact as he thrust his hips forward.

You could tell he was going to stay like this, watch every reaction on your face as he fucked you. Small whimpers fell from your lips as he began a consistent movement, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing throughout the room as he fucked into you. The eye contact was too intense, your head unconsciously falling to the side.

That was a mistake, Jungkook immediately letting one leg fall as he reached to grip your face. "Look at me when I fuck you." He growled, gripping your cheeks. You let out a small whimper, causing him to loosen his grip slightly. Instead of placing his hand back, he easily slipped two fingers into your mouth and began to thrust into you harder than before. You could no longer control your moans, spit coating Jungkook's fingers as well as the side of your face.

"Look at how dirty you are, only for my dick," Jungkook mumbled, thrusting harder so that skin on skin was the only sound registering in your mind. Jungkook let out soft moans on occasion, his eyes falling closed temporarily as he thrust into you. Your hands reached around him, raking marks into the soft skin of his back. His whole body jolted as you accidentally flicked his nipple, eyes shooting open. "Don't." He warned, instantly realized you weren't listening as you smiled up at him.

In a flash, your hands were pinned above your head. Jungkook seemed unimpressed as he gripped your wrists tightly, never stopping his thrusts for a second. "Jungkook...gonna cum. Gonna cum." You whined, thrusting up into his hips.

"Not without my permission, not without the right name." He smirked, letting your wrists go to get a better grip on your body.

"Daddy! Please! Let me cum." You whimpered, clenching around his cock as you fought off your orgasm. He didn't respond, sweat dripping from his brow as he fucked into you.

"Daddy, please let me cum. Please, I want to cum on your cock." You whimpered, tears threatening to slip from your eyes. Jungkook smiled, drawing circles on your clit and bringing you closer if even possible. "Please Daddy!" You cried, tears slipping as you were so frustrated.

"Cum baby." He smirked, fucking into you and circling your clit roughly to bring you to your finish. You let out a loud whine, hips bucking up as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. Jungkook never stopped, chasing his own high as he sent you into over-stimulation. Each draw of his hips rubbed against your clit, legs shaking vigorously around his waist. "I'm close." He grunted above you.

"Cum, please daddy." You whined, legs uncontrollably shaking now and you clenched even tighter around him.

"I'm coming." He groaned, head falling as he bottomed out into you, body going rigged for a few moments. He smirked at you, pulling out and roughly shoving two fingers into your heat. A loud cry fell from you, head falling backwards as over-stimulation took a hold of your being. You didn't realize what he was doing until he tapped two fingers against your lips, willing your mouth open.

He watched in amusement as you took his fingers into your mouth, cleaning his fingers of both of your juices. He smiled as your tongue slotted between his fingers, effectively cleaning everywhere. "Are you okay babe?" He asked, moving over you to kiss you softly.

"Yeah, it was good." You giggled, legs shaking as he ran comforting hands across your body. He placed small kisses to your legs, taking you down from your high.

"You did so well for me, baby," Jungkook said, kissing your legs once more before searching for something to clean you up with. He grabbed a shirt much to your complaint, cleaning you up before chucking the shirt as far away as possible.

"You're going to be so sore tomorrow." You laughed, running your hands across his tensed abs and shoulders despite not working out. You could tell he already realized that, face scrunching up at the thought of walking around. He finally plopped down on you, arms on either side of your head as he began to kiss you. You laughed, kissing him back and lightly scratching his sides.

"I love you." You mumbled against his lips, breathing heavily.

He let out a content sigh, "I've loved you since I joined the team."

~honey <3

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studywithdanielle · 4 years

Text

How to Study For: Uni Entrance Exams

14 JUL 2020

Hey guys! I’m currently studying for the TSA and I thought it would be helpful for me to consolidate my process so I can look back on it. Then I remembered that I have a studyblr (woop woop 🎉!) and that I can possibly help others by posting it on here.

NOTE: This is a strategy for exams consisting of multiple choice or short answer questions. If you’d like me to cover essay question prep, just let me know 🥰 !

Btw, I’m a conceptual learner that likes formulas so if this sounds like a rocket launch countdown, I deeply apologise ?.

What You’ll Need:

Internet - I mean, what don’t we use it for these days?

Practise papers

Practise questions

Phase 1 - Preparation

Step 1: Don’t panic

Okay you can panic a little, especially if you’ve left it late but not all hope is lost!

Yes, I know the ‘duh, duh, duh!!!’ didn’t help but panicking will only make you feel overwhelmed and will make the exam seem impossible. Here’s what you should do instead:

Step 2: Find out what the university actually wants

Why do they have an entrance exam anyway?

Especially in the UK, most universities don’t have an entrance exam so if they do, there’s a reason and you’re going to be Sherlock Holmes and find out why that is. Whilst it may seem like they’re trying to traumatise you, I don’t think they particularly enjoy marking a zillion papers 🤧.

What do they expect?

For most university courses, there are a grade requirements and knowing what those are is really helpful for setting your own expectations. If your course (likes mine) doesn’t require maths and there are maths problems on the exam, they won’t be at A-level, IB HL or AP standard.

What score should I be aiming for?

This links to the previous question but finding admissions stats for your subject will help you determine a mark that you’re aiming for. Many of these tests are not designed for really high marks so releasing that expectation early will save you a great deal of stress.

What skills are they testing?

For some entrance exams, the university will list out the skills they’re testing in their entrance exam. Practising these skills broadly will help you to develop them. For example, if they’re testing translation in a language entrance exam, reading in the target language and understanding it will be good practise because you’ll be able to convey ideas from another language if you understand them.

Step 3: Master your strategy

The worst thing that could happen in an exam is that you don’t know what to do or what to write. The best way to tackle that? Having a strategy. Sometimes just having something to do in an exam even if you don’t actually know what you’re doing gives your brain some time to stop freaking out and start problem-solving. To master your strategy, you need to:

Find out the question types

For example, the TSA is split into 2 sections (I have to do both 😭), one multiple-choice paper and one 30 minute essay. I know there are about 9-10 different types of questions targeting 2 skills: critical thinking and problem-solving. By doing this, I can work towards perfecting each question type and in theory will be able to do the whole of the first paper.

Figure out the timings

You can do this in minutes per mark or if there’s an advised amount of time you should spend on a particular type of question, take a note of this.

Figure out your process for each question type

Usually at the beginning of a book full of practise questions, there will be a description as to how best to approach each question. If there isn’t or you don’t have access to one, try looking up strategies on the wonder that is the Internet. If you’re still not sure, attempt questions with commentary answers so that id you get them wrong, you can create a strategy of your own using the tips you’ve gathered from there.

Practise, practise practice. Oh, and did I say practise?

When practising questions:

Make sure to practise a block of questions that are all the same type. This will allow you to learn how to identify the question type quicker and also gives you a sign to stop so you don’t spend all day working on these questions because you’re stressed 😪.

1. Attempt the question

2. Mark the question

3. If you got it wrong, try and figure out why yourself - write this in a different colour.

4. Check the markscheme or talk-through (if there is one) and add in anything you may have missed or anything that could be helpful for the next question in another colour. Now you’ve differentiated between what you could figure out and what you couldn’t.

5. Attempt the next question

*This may seem tedious because why would you not mark all the questions at the end? Doing it this way ensures you approach each question with a better idea of what to do and allows you to pick up on nuances that you may not have otherwise realised. Also, you don’t want to instil the “wrong” method or idea because of muscle-memory.*

6. Once you finish your block of questions, make note of something that went well, something that could’ve been better and what to do for next time. I’d advise you to keep this in a table so that you can see your progress over time. Make sure to look at this before you attempt this style of question again.

Okay so now we now how to practise a block of questions, do we do them to time or not.

I’d recommend doing them not to time at first.

This will allow you to focus on mastering your process and approach to each type of question. You should continue to do this (if you have enough time) until:

You’ve perfected your process/approach

You’ve ensured your strategy actually helps YOU get the right answer

Once you know the strategy works, you’ll feel more confident in the exam, especially because you know if you blank, you have something to fall back on.

I say ‘YOU’ because whilst a strategy straight out of a textbook may work fine for someone else, it may not be the best way for you. Don’t be afraid to tweak it to fit you or create a whole new strategy altogether!

Now, if your strategy works, move onto the next stage. If not, let’s troubleshoot your strategy.

Troubleshooting your process:

1. Find patterns: are there a particular nuances you’re always missing or mistakes you’re making?

For example, in the TSA being able to differentiate between premises and conclusions is really important. If I find that this is something I can’t do, I’ve discovered a pattern.

2. Practise on easier questions.

With the example above, I may look up arguments for GCSE RS or psychology students and try and identify premises and clauses.

3. Adjust your strategy as is necessary

You may realise that you should another step to your strategy, such as highlighting key words, after practising on easier questions

Right, so you have your strategy down - now what?

Practise to time.

It’s the timing that’s the stickler for many uni entrance exams and the best way to get that down is to practise doing the questions to time. I’d still recommend doing the questions in their question blocks at this stage or mixing up blocks that are similar in question type.

Step 4: Practice tests

Now you know what to do when you see all the types of questions, it’s time to apply what you’ve learnt to a real paper. This is where you see what has stuck and what hasn’t so it’s important to see this is a learning process - don’t expect to get 100% on your first try.

When completing a practice test:

1. Answer the entire test

Since you’ve got your processes down, it’s not necessary to mark each question individually since it’s so time-consuming.

2. Go through and mark the test

3. Try and work out where you went wrong, do this in a different colour.

4. Go through the mark scheme and add further corrections in a different colour.

5. Make a note of your mark, what went well, what could’ve been better (even better if ...) and what to do for next time in a tracker. Look at this before you next do a practice exam.

6. If you find you’re getting a particular type of question wrong every time, go back to those question blocks and master your strategy again.

As I said earlier, these tests are not designed for really high marks and so even after lots of practise, there’ll probably still be things that aren’t quite right. But if:

You’re getting the scores you want/need

You have your strategy for each question type down

Then congratulations - you are officially ready for the exam 🎉.

Whilst I wouldn’t advise all practise to stop, I do think that at this stage, running through loads more exam papers is a bit redundant. Maybe doing one every week or fortnight will suffice. Plus, if you started preparing early, you don’t want to go through alllll your practice papers before the exam actually comes around.

Phase 2 - Lead Up to the Exam

Congrats - you made it!

Honestly, I think if you’ve prepared properly then doing hardcore practise isn’t necessary and might burn you out in the lead up to the exam. If you take away anything from this really long post make it this:

Consistent practise always wins. Always.

If you’ve been consistently practising, there’s no need to cram too much last minute revision. I will say though that looking over your practice test tracker the night before the exam may be helpful as a last-minute reminder but, of course, if this is just going to stress you out further, don’t do it.

Last-Minute Tips

Don’t make this your whole life - It’s summer! There are so many more actually fun things you could be doing. Even practising a couple of times a week at first is absolutely fine.

Ask from advice from the experts - If there’s anything in particular that you’re worried about, ask someone who’s done or is practising for the test or email the university - they might be able to give you one of their students details so you can ask them directly.

Well, that’s all I’ve got for you ...

I hope this was helpful! Feel free to add your own tips and if you have any questions or feedback, just ask me or message me - my DMs are always open. Of course, you could just leave a note on here but if you want to be a little fancy, hit me up!

Alsoooo, let me know if you want me to a) do this for essay-based entrance exams and/or b) turn this into a mini-series and apply these steps to different tests like the TSA, LNAT, BMAT, UKCAT, STEP etc. Then all the resources will be in one place. Obviously, I’m not preparing for all of them (doctor who? definitely not me 🤧) but I have some friends doing some of these exams so I can get some extra exclusive tips from them.

Now, carrying on with QOTD:

QOTD: How do you get over exam nerves?

For me, acknowledging that I’m nervous before the exam and that it’s okay before I distract myself makes me feel much calmer. In an actual exam, I usually cover my ears and try and focus on what I’m reading to get out of my head 😅.

PS: This is my first informative post - please don’t judge 🙈! And if you’ve found it helpful, please reblog so that others can see these tips too ☺️.

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firelxdykatara · 3 years

Note

I've read your thoughts on the noncon kiss between K/ataang (and I agree 100%), so I was wondering what your thoughts were on when Damon kept on trying to kiss Elena even after she rejected him?? (Also, I'm genuinely asking! I actually ship Delena, but this has just always bothered me.)

I suppose the simplest answer to this question is ‘I hold vampires with dodgy morals who began the show as villains to a different standard than I hold the heroic protagonist of a kid’s show’--because the fact of the matter is, Damon began the show as a villain. (And, not that it makes much of a difference, but I genuinely do not remember Damon trying to kiss Elena again after finding out that she was wearing vervain in the third episode--with the exception of the first episode of season 2, which was absolutely a horrible moment and I’ve never denied that. So where did he ‘[keep] on trying’? Genuine question, bc it’s been a while since I saw the early seasons of the show so I could be forgetting something.) Damon was unequivocally a villain and a monster in the beginning of the show, and his road to become a good man was long and not at all linear, and he was never going to be the Hero, because that’s just not who he is. (Which is ok, because not all good people have to be.)

The way the EIP kiss is presented, with absolutely nothing bridging the gap between that and Katara making out with Aang in the finale, it makes it seem like she figured out her feelings for him because he crossed her boundaries, rather than coming to that conclusion because she actually had romantic feelings for him and had worked through them on her own time. Aang makes his feelings her problem, without even asking her how she actually feels about him, and reveals that he assumed they would be in a relationship by now (because of the last time he kissed her without her consent, something that he phrases as mutual when it very much was not). This is especially an issue because it’s a children’s show, and this could very well be some of the target demographic’s first concept of consent in a romantic relationship--so the fact that there wasn’t even an attempt to point out that what Aang did was wrong and why, nevermind allow Katara to actually work through her feelings on screen, is a big problem, and when this gets brushed under the rug by Aang/Kataang fans it seriously bothers me.

By contrast, Elena was able to work through her feelings for Damon on her own time. He killed her brother at the beginning of season 2, unquestionably one of his worst actions in the entire show, and he had an arc where he began to realize that he actually cared about what he’d done--he actually cared about her, and was in love with her--and did everything he could to make it up to her. Crucially, though, he never actually made his feelings her problem, once he came to terms with them. He told her that he was in love with her, but then he compelled her to forget it so that she wouldn’t be burdened with that knowledge--and he backed the hell off. He didn’t even ask for her to forgive him until he was literally dying. And he accepted when she said that she still needed time--time he didn’t have--and didn’t actually push the issue until he was so delirious from the werewolf venom and in the middle of vivid hallucinations that he couldn’t control himself.

Elena kissed Damon at the end of season 2, thinking he was going to die--this was 100% initiated by her and unprompted by him, and it was her saying both ‘I forgive you’ and ‘goodbye’, because she thought he was about to die. (And he would have if Katherine hadn’t shown up with Klaus’ blood.) The next time they kissed, you could actually compare it to the Kataang surprise kisses--because when Damon kissed Elena in 3x10 it was unprompted (though she held the kiss and did not react negatively to it, unlike Katara who looked upset at the pre-invasion kiss and got angry at the EIP one)--but the important difference here is that Elena herself phrases it as a mutual kiss later on when she is talking to Stefan and wants to be open with him.

And the real crux of the matter here is, Elena’s feelings are always front and center in her relationship with Damon. She initiates most of their pre-relationship kisses--2x22, 3x19 (where she nearly fucking jumped his bones lmfao), 4x7--and the one where she didn’t is a kiss a kiss she describes as mutual, and as something she needs to confess to her ex-boyfriend to keep all her cards on the table. (Actually, I just went back to refresh my memory, and she doesn’t just say ‘we kissed’, like Damon said to Bonnie the next day. She says ‘There’s something I have to tell you. And it’s not because I feel guilty that it happened, it’s because I feel guilty that you don’t know. I kissed Damon.’ And then Stefan goes on to punch Damon because of it, because that doesn’t have any gross implications at all, but I’m not gonna go into that bc this isn’t an ‘I hate Stefan Salvatore’ rant. Yet.)

Elena chooses who she wants to say goodbye to in the season 3 finale. Elena chooses who she wants to be with in the beginning of season 4 (because, whatever she felt for Damon [and she owns those feelings and admits to them multiple times without prompting], she never had closure with Stefan, and she needed that before she was able to truly move on), and she chooses who she wants to spend the rest of her existence with after that.

Elena’s choice is crucial in her relationship with Damon, in a way that Katara’s never is with Aang. And I’m not trying to pretend that there aren’t a lot of elements to Damon and Elena’s relationship that aren’t questionable (he’s a 172-year-old vampire with a lot of murders in his past and a history of being a monster pre-redemption, and she’s an 18-year-old girl when they start dating), but again the difference there is that I have different standards for a) enemies-to-lovers relationships vs friends-to-lovers where they are on the same side from the start, and b) vampires vs Kid Heroes, so I’m going to have different expectations going in, and am probably going to react with more distaste to actions in one that might be comparatively tame, but still read very differently in different contexts.

It’s 100% understandable to have a line in the sand re: sexual violence/rape, but there are still vast differences in what is considered ‘par for the course’ in a show like TVD vs one like ATLA. In TVD, compelling humans is normal, and almost every vampire has had sex with humans under compulsion, so when this is brought out as some mark against Damon and only Damon, it makes me wonder why some fans hold him to a completely different standard than literally every other vampire on the show (possible exceptions being the ones who get turned during the show--although Caroline compelled Matt to forget she was a vampire and then continued her relationship with him sooooooo). Not liking TVD because it has issues with sexual violence/how consent is addressed when half the cast can take away the other half’s free will? Very valid. Not liking Damon, specifically, for these reasons when stanning characters like Stefan, Katherine, or.... p much any other vampire on the show???? Not so valid.

Annnnd I’ll get off my soapbox now lmfao. I still have A Lot To Say apparently, and some day I’m gonna get into why the TVD fandom has such a weird relationship w the show’s issues with consent (like why Stefan and Katherine stans will call Damon a rapist while ignoring that their faves are also rapists by the very same metric), but I think that’s a bit beyond the scope of this ask.

#tvd #atla #delena #kataang salt #salt for ts #i think at the end of the day it boils down to agency #elena had it in her relationship with damon #katara did not in her relationship with aang #asked #Anonymous

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gemlinz · 3 years

Text

Fulcrum ch. 2 - a Working Relationship (Levi x f!Reader)

Summary: It was a cruel world, she knew. She also knew better than to ask for more than her lot: being a full time barmaid and a part time thief. She helped where she could, bitterly accepted where she could not. Feared the monsters lurking outside the walls. But still - being near him, taking in his strength, his resolve - she couldn't help but hope for more. For herself. For him. For humanity.

Warnings: Swearing, Non-con Groping | CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 |

Read on A03

It turns out “great things” amounted to digging up whatever dirt F/N could on the filthy rich. It wasn’t particularly difficult - the rich and powerful had plenty they were trying to hide. Their status granted them an inflated sense of security - and she exploited it to the fullest. Six months she had been thwarting the nobilities best efforts to gut the Survey Corp funding.

Her latest mark had left his dirty laundry splayed across his desk; literally. F/N watched from her perch as the honorable Judge Forge pulled out of his mistress and tucked himself back into his pants.

Grimacing in disgust, F/N double checked the description of the woman against her sources - it was definitely Avery Lynch, daughter of Adam Lynch - a representative from Wall Rose and very influential in the courts.

Mission completed, then. Honestly, mission completed 15 minutes ago when the pair stumbled into the judges office trying to eat each others face, but she needed to wait until the guards shift changed - which left her with another 30 minute wait.

Shifting uncomfortably at the bark digging into her back, the young thief-turned-spy opened her notebook to pen her report. Apparently Erwin was a stickler for them - verbal communication of any pertinent information was avoided where they could.

F/N wondered if it had to do with the errand boy he sent back and forth. Did Erwin not trust him to get the information right? Or, more nefariously, was he worried he’d tamper with it? She sure as shit wouldn’t put it past the runt. Her nose still throbbed in phantom pain every time she saw him.

She finished her report just as the sun began to set, tucking the sealed letter into her waistband.

Slipping down from the tree, she quietly made her way to the perimeters of the grounds, melting into the surrounding forest.

It still boggled her mind that these nobles had so much room - they could fit a farm to feed 100 people here. The wound of injustice, slightly scabbed over, still itched and the more she was around these pigs the more she scratched at it. If Erwin didn’t make good on his promise soon, she wouldn’t be able to stand it much longer.

Exiting the wall of trees behind an old tea shop, she brushed off the dirt from her dark cloak and made for the pub. Irritable as she was, she wasn’t looking forward to a full shift behind the bar.

Walking through the familiar streets, she thought back to Avery Lynch and how fucked she was; from what she could tell, the girl was half the judge’s age. Barely legal, definitely not smart enough to realize the consequences of her actions. If Judge Forge didn’t do whatever it was Erwin wanted, the poor girls life would be over.

It was unlikely the Judge wouldn’t comply though. The implications would end his career overnight. F/N wouldn’t lose any sleep over that.

Finally at the pub, she entered through the back door, still paranoid about homicidal assholes sneaking in behind her.

Louis greeted her almost right away, wiping a glass with a towel.

She still felt the sharp bite of betrayal when around him, but F/N had no real choice but to trust him. He was both her employer and landlord - not to mention the things he knew about her could get her hanged.

He was also her only friend.

“There you are. We’re swamped tonight,” He began, “And your admirer is back, sat him in his regular corner. Nice and secluded for the two of you.” Winking the man walked back out to the rowdy front, patrons already many drinks deep, even at the early hour.

Rolling her eyes, F/N pulled her apron off the hook, tying it off at her waist. Taking a deep breath, she followed him out.

“I prefer my men less abusive, Louis,” She murmured only low enough for him to hear as she passed him, checking the board to see which table was sat first. She hadn’t meant it to come out so harshly, but she saw him flinch slightly in guilt.

Knowing better than to approach her contact right away, she waited her tables like normal, charming her patrons into larger tips.

In the beginning, the idea of conducting business in the pub worried her. Mixing her two lives like that went against everything she had been taught. You don’t shit where you sleep. But Erwin had insisted, and Louis encouraged it, so she had no choice but to comply, as much as it set her on edge. Apparently it was less suspicious for someone as recognized as “Humanity's Strongest Soldier” to be seen publicly and not in some dark alley.

In reality, her weekly meetings with Levi weren’t as awful as she first had first thought. Sure, there was still a healthy dose of fear and caution on her part - the man had threatened to kill her, multiple times. But as far as the bars regulars went, he was significantly more tolerable.

For one, he never seemed to drink - alcohol that is. She’d admonish his lack of forethought at how suspicious it looks being the only sober one at a pub , but every week he proved her wrong with the confident stoicism he displayed calmly sipping away at his tea. No one questioned him, or even paid him a second glance.

F/N for her part did her best to treat him like any other patron, with the addition of occasionally slipping him secret reports that would get them both executed if discovered.

That’s not to say she enjoyed his visits. Treating him like a regular patron also meant trying to start small talk - trying in that he shot down most of her attempts with one word answers or outright silence. The only time she had been able to get more than a few words out of him was the night he had stayed until just before closing, about three months after their operation began.

Louis had already called it a night, and F/N was waiting on the last of their customers to finish up, getting a head start on cleaning. Levi had critiqued how she was wiping down the tables. Once she got over her shock, she had laughed at him, claiming that the alcohol on them killed any germs and anyone coming into this bar didn’t typically give a crud about a little stickiness.

He had tsked at her and launched into a rant about the benefits of a clean establishment for an hour. She would have been more annoyed at the tirade if he hadn't used that time to also demonstrate his suggestions by deep cleaning the bar.

They finished closing the pub much later than normal, but she couldn’t find it in her to complain when she somehow tricked this runt into doing her job for her.

After that, every so often he would stay past close to clean the bar. She was eventually able to decipher by the tension in his shoulders when he would be staying. Wherever she noticed the signs, she began kicking people out just a bit earlier; they were too drunk to notice, and she fancied getting to sleep at a normal time.

Levi never talked except to criticize her own efforts, before he moved to do it himself. F/N was no saint - she took full advantage.

He either didn’t notice or didn't mind.

Today didn’t seem to be a bad day for him, glancing at him as she darted from table to table. He looked relaxed - or, as relaxed as he ever looked. He didn’t wear his uniform but instead a dark suit, complete with his signature cravat.

After helping three tables, she made for where he sat. Not three steps in, the door opened to the front, and a group of three MPs strolled in. They were in uniform but already deep in their drink, if their volume was anything to go by.

Drunks she was used to coming in - but not once had the Military Police visited this bar. It was far from the barracks and more importantly, too low class. Her regulars weren’t usually locals, but those who worked in Mitras and stopped in to forget whatever shit they were made to do that day.

Briefly meeting her contacts' grey eyes, she forced a smile before turning to shout over her shoulder to the newcomers, “Seat yourselves and I’ll be right over!” Not missing the greasy smiles shot her way from the group, she continued to Levi’s table.

“Friends of yours?” She said around a smile, tucking her hair behind her ear to better eye the group.

“Hn. I’ll have a Black tea, thanks.” He said with no inflection. Confused, she could only play along.

“Ok? I’ll go...get that then.” When her confusion went unanswered, she made for behind the bar to apparently brew some tea. Louis shot her a look, apparently just as lost as she was. Was it just a coincidence, or were they already compromised?

Her mind raced with where she went wrong, moving mechanically.

The MPs sat themselves by the door, khaki jackets thrown on the back of their chairs. She couldn’t avoid going over there for any longer without looking suspicious. As the tea steeped, she made her way towards them, swallowing her building panic.

“Hello gentlemen, what can I get for you tonight?” She asked, saccharine sweet even as she shook inside.

“Hmm, well I know what I want,” He slurred, salaciously looking her up and down, “but I don't think it's on the menu, sweetheart.” The oldest one cackled, the stench of alcohol noticeable even inside the bar. She pictured breaking a bottle over his head, but kept her smile up.

It had been awhile since she had been met with such boldness; the patrons had been fairly well behaved recently. Maybe it was the new cleaning regime. It’s tough to be filthy in a place where you could now literally eat off the floor.

“Shut up Stewart, you old pervert.” His friend elbowed him, saving her from replying. Mr. Chivalrous didn’t seem to want to look up from her chest, however. He seemed only slightly more sober. “We’ll both have an ale.”

“Make that three.” The last MP grunted out. The most sober of the three of them, he didn’t look at her at all when he ordered - his eyes were fixed to a point behind her.

Where Levi was sitting.

Shit.

“Three ales, coming right up!” She chirped, fighting her flight instinct and walking away at what she was pretty sure was a normal pace.

Heading back behind the bar, her eyes searched for Levi’s, but apparently whatever was on the table was more pressing than the actual military fucking police in her pub, tonight of all nights.

Tea finished, she walked back over to him as slowly as she could manage, all but throwing it onto the table, eyebrows raised in panicked inquiry.

Not meeting her gaze, he used his sleeve to wipe the edge of the cup clean - the asshole - and took a tentative sip.

Grimacing, he finally met her look.

“This is fucking disgusting.” He stated and F/N was sure she was about to strangle him.

“Well, sir , this is a bar.” She said around her teeth, sticky sweet smile still in place, “Tea isn’t exactly what we’re known for.” And it was good enough for you every other night, jerk.

“Make me another one.” He demanded, pushing the cup away from him.

He was dead. She was going to murder him. Fuck Erwin, this shrimp had it coming.

At her silence, he looked back up at her with an eyebrow raised.

The look in his eyes however gave her pause - something was up. F/N had no choice but to follow his lead.

Steaming, she snatched the cup from him, not even wincing when some of the hot liquid splashed over onto her fingers.

“Fine.” She bit out, heading back to the bar, noisily dumping the mug into the sink and setting the water back onto boil.

Pouring out three glasses of ale, she made her way back over to what was now the rowdiest table in the pub - the MPs.

As she walked over, she noticed that even though they were supposedly in varying states of drunkenness, all three were casting surreptitious glances at Levi.

Placing their drinks on the table seemed to snap them out of it, redirecting their attention back to her. Skillfully dodging their wandering hands, she shot them a smile and walked away to finish making Mr. Precious his tea.

Not sure what she was meant to do differently, she walked back to his table with it, brewed in the same manner as the last one. The asshole needed to stop making a scene while they were surrounded by the ene-

Something caught on her foot and she stumbled forward, the tea filled mug flying out of her hand and…

Spilling all over Levi.

The entire bar froze at the commotion and all eyes were on the two of them.

“I-” she started, horrified - not only was this not conducive to what was meant to be a clandestine meeting, she was genuinely scared at the murderous look in his eyes. Not too long ago, he had held a blade to her throat.

Louis came up beside her, clearing his throat.

“So sorry about that, sir.” The older man mediated, “She can be a bit of a klutz, you see. F/N, take this young man to the back and get him properly cleaned up. I’ll take care of the spill here.”

Nodding, realization was slowly dawning on her. This was the perfect opportunity to get him her report away from the watchful eyes of the MPs.

As she led him to the back however, it dawned on her that he had orchestrated this by deliberately tripping her. Once they were through the doorway and out of sight from the main bar room, she turned to make her displeasure known, loudly.

She flinched back when he held one hand up to her mouth to keep her quiet, pulling her in by her arm with his other.

“Not here.” He whispered, nodding towards the back door leading the alley before pulling her along behind him.

What a perfect place to commit murder, she thought darkly, glaring at the back of his stupid head.

As the door closed behind them, they both cast looks up and down the alley - they were alone.

“How did they find us?” She started immediately, “Are we compromised? If they know about the bar, I need to let Louis know.”

He shook his head.

“They didn’t find us, they found me.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “The info you’ve been giving us has resulted in unprecedented wins for the Corp - other branches are starting to get suspicious.”

“So they just guessed?”

“Yeah, looks like - I don’t think they suspect you yet, their eyes were on me the entire time. Trying to see if I was meeting anyo-”

“Someone's coming.” She interrupted in a rush, hearing footsteps.

Levi cursed, eyes darting for an easy exit - when he didn’t find one, his eyes turned back to her, calculating.

Too quick for her to follow, he grabbed her. Hands rough, he twisted F/N around and slammed her face first into the wall, crowding in behind her. One of his hands tangled in the hair above her neck, and he forced his knee between her legs.

“Get off!” She yelled, struggling against his hold.

He didn’t let up, and she cursed at him, trying to push off the wall. He slammed her back down, none too gently. She was effectively pinned.

“Keep struggling,” He leaned in to breathe into her ear, voice a whisper, “In a second, nod, say ok. Pretend I’m threatening you. Force some tears, if you can.”

You are threatening me she wanted to say, feeling as helpless as she did that night six months ago when they first met. Tear’s weren’t that hard to come by as his front pressed against her back, rough brick digging into her cheek.

“Nod.” He commanded again in that harsh whisper, as the footsteps stopped at the end of the alley.

She did, wincing as the motion pulled against the hold he had on her hair.

“O-ok.” She sniffled, eyes watery.

When nothing happened, Levi shoved his thigh up to meet the apex of her own at the same time he leaned in to bury his face in her neck, able to use her to hide his look at the end of the alley.

All three MPs stood at the end, two barely holding themselves upright.

“Bah - he's just fucking the whore from the bar.” One of them said, waving at the pair, “Lucky asshole.”

Both Levi and F/N looked up, as if just noticing the newcomers.

Levi scowled.

“The fuck do you three want?” He deadpanned, “Find your own, this one owes me for making a mess of my clothes.”

One of them - Stewart, she remembered him called - guffawed.

“Guess the rumors are true - you are a clean freak.” He took a step forward, threateningly, “But that doesn’t seem fair to the poor missy, now does it?”

“Ah Stewart, don’t be jealous, let him have his fun,” His friend spoke up, “Survey Corp needs all the charity it can get.”

Levi grit his teeth as the two bickered, seemingly forgetting about him and the woman he currently had pinned.

Only his steel nerves stopped him from jumping when she grabbed his free hand, on the side facing away from the MPs. F/N led his hand up her waist, passed her hips and then under her shirt.

Eyebrows raised high, he tried to guess at her intentions, but his mind had gone blank. She pressed down on his hand and he braced himself to feel her the warm skin of her stomach - but felt the rough texture of paper instead.

The report.

He hid his smirk in her hair.

Eyeing the MPs and realizing they had all but forgotten about the two of them, he lifted it from her waist band and tucked it into his coat - besides the two of them, none were any the wiser.

The argument at the end of the alley was turning more lewd than his patience allowed, so he released her and shoved off the wall with a loud “Tsk.”

“You shitheads ruined whatever mood there was.” He walked up to them, pausing until F/N recovered and scurried back inside, the sound of the door locking behind her. “Fuck out of my way.”

“The hell did you say to me, you little runt!?” Stewart slurred, indignant, “I’ll kick your ass, punk!”

He attempted a swing at Levi, but missed so badly he stumbled over his own feet and fell on his face.

Cradling his broken nose, the fallen MP tried to stifle the flow of blood. Levi scoffed and walked out of the alley, eyes challenging the other two. Neither seemed keen on avenging their friend.

Once out of sight, Levi walked a few blocks before doubling back. It was unlikely the shitheads had gone back into the bar, but he couldn’t risk the Corps asset falling into their hands.

Approaching the pub, the MPs were nowhere in sight. Through the window, he could see F/N behind the bar, slinging drinks and smiles at her regulars, as if she hadn’t just been assaulted.

Satisfied, he made his way back to barracks to deliver Erwin her latest findings.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #reader insert #gem writes #fanfiction

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some-jw-things · 4 years

Note

if you dont mind explaining, what did the organisation do that it gives you such reaction? im not jw/exjw myself, im just following this blog because i wanna keep myself educated on all sorts of issues, but if you dont want to its absolutely fine

I mean Jehovahs Witnesses are blatantly a cult. That’s been explained pretty thoroughly by a lot of people.

I guess “this organization is a cult” can be hard to understand what that actually means. On a personal level, it defined my entire life. When I introduced myself to new people, the first thing I said was that I was one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. It was my entire identity. I actually think of myself back when I still believed in it as a completely different person than who I am now. I consider my old self to be dead, and so does my family.

When I told them I wanted to leave the cult, they mourned me. They cried for months. They raged and got angry. My sister refused to even look at me for days. In the span of one sentence, I lost my whole family, all of my friends, and my entire community. I was shunned, and they blamed me for abandoning them.

And I knew that would happen. They had always made it perfectly clear that love was conditional. I was told flat out— multiple times— that I would get kicked out of the house if I got disfellowshipped. My dad told me as a child that he would stop supporting me if I ever went to college, because every Witness he knows who’s ever gone has left the Truth. He also told me that the day I turned eighteen he would make me pay rent to keep living in his house unless I was preaching full time. All of that later turned out to be empty threats and a doctor told me that last part was actually illegal, but my family made sure I grew up believing it.

I was only loved so long as I followed the rules. This is standard practice for Jehovah’s Witnesses. I am lucky I got off as light as I did and wasn’t kicked out on the street. Even that only happened due to a technicality and how obviously mentally ill I was at that point.

Jehovah’s Witnesses’ theology is the reason I started self-harming. I was afab and when I was fifteen I spent a month asking why God thought women were innately lesser than men. That culminated in a big family discussion where I got anxious enough to start scratching at my lip over and over until I had a massive gash. My family watched. My mother made a token protest that I listened to for about three seconds. I walked away from that conversation with the knowledge that I needed to keep my mouth shut because certain questions were actually not allowed and a brand new bad habit.

I created an entire system for myself based on rigid discipline and punishment and the idea that any mistake meant I didn’t deserve to feel un-miserable, which is exactly the sort of mentality that this all-or-nothing religious purism breeds.

I was institutionalized in hospital psychiatric wards four times in the year after I left, and one more time about a year after that. The high school attempted to put me in foster care then, out of concern for my safety if I continued living in that environment. My mother supported the idea

The first time I remember sincerely contemplating suicide was when I was thirteen. My thoughts then were just that I figured I would never be able to hold off killing myself long enough to live to be eighteen. I felt trapped. I was specifically thinking I would never have the guts to be able to pry myself out of the Org and so I would be stuck in it forever. The JW lifestyle is miserable in a way I can’t express

I have comforted my little sister while she’s had a break down crying in the bathroom during meeting because the talk was about Armageddon and she didn’t think our dad would make it into Paradise. She had to stop attending public school because of panic attacks. She was suicidal too at one point, but our mom thought she wasn’t as bad as me and therefore was making it up for attention

Jehovah’s Witnesses by and large treat mental illness with prayer and talking to the elders. The majority of teenage girls in my congregation had severe unaddressed issues. The Society has whole articles on how sometimes the answer IS demonic possession. Their version of Paradise is a eugenics fantasy

At one point an elder comforted my family by telling them that Jehovah likely didn’t view my choice to leave as legitimate due to my mental issues. They have official articles calling all apostates “mentally diseased,” and how am I supposed to argue why that’s wrong?

The majority of Jehovah’s Witnesses’ teachings are bigoted and hateful. They have a cute little kids cartoon that compares the evil gays to terrorists. I was taught the mark of Cain and curse of Esau were responsible for the existence of other races. JW women are required to submit to their husbands and fathers no matter what, and divorce is a sin that will get you shunned. Trans people are forced to live as their agab, gay people have to remain celibate and never date. The elders reserve the right to out you to whoever they want, whenever they want.

There have been so many talks that have sent me running off somewhere private to cry and panic

There’s this little girl in the hall who was friends with my sister. She had needed a blood transfusion when she was a baby. Her parents had been willing to let her die, but the courts stepped in and took her away for a few days. She was given the blood transfusion, lived, and at thirteen had a crying breakdown in the middle of the hall because the talk had just said she would never make it into Paradise now. Usually though, if you’re old enough to speak for yourself, they let you die

My parents have had three bankruptcies and they mock me for saving money. They live as if the world is going to end at any moment. There’s no such thing as a future

The world has been about to end since my grandma was little. That’s a running joke. She’s lived through more changes to the Org than I’ll ever know about. My family has been ruthlessly controlled by this organization for generations. My family aren’t allowed to accept me even if they wanted to. I’ve seen this Org ruin so many people’s lives in a whole variety of ways. Three other kids I grew up with have been disfellowshipped since becoming adults. There are others who I don’t think could leave unless they literally ran away in secret

JW ideology loans itself to a certain style of parenting and that has consequences. They control every aspect of members’ lives. Behavior, dress, speech, career, free time, friends, which family you’re allowed to see, what media you can consume. The thoughts you are allowed to have. I’ve been sent into a spiraling panic before over the idea that “I shouldn’t be thinking that”

The Org barred outside ideas and all criticism. They forcibly kept me in the dark. Members are intentionally isolated from not just all outsiders, but also all outside opinions. I was raised in a way intended to make me an outcast everywhere but within the Org. I was told never to read about Jehovah’s Witnesses from any writer other than the Society itself. I was told never to listen to its critics. I was told that reading forbidden books would get me possessed by demons

The Society controlled and defined my entire life and somehow still manages to do so even after I’ve left. Every member I know has been hurt by it. I’m just the one who won’t forgive

#i feel like this doesnt explain anytthing but whatever #tw #suicide ideation #self harm #ask #ex jw #ex cult #apostate #ex jehovah’s witness #christianity #religion #exjw

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boku-no-loveletters · 4 years

Note

Hello!! Could I get a match up with the league villains?🥺 I’m 170cm tall, I’m skinny (sadly I’m shaped like the letter I and rll self conscious ab it) I have shoulder length brown hair with two blonde stripes in the front, grey eyes. I’m a mix of a calm and logical person and a childish person with dumb jokes who can’t even sit still. I luv playing video games, reading, drawing. I usually wear dark oversized clothes or baggy pants with small tops. I’m european so my accent is rll thicc.Thank u!

Hey, what’s up? Hope you enjoy your match-up!

I matched you up with…

Shigaraki!

He's feral but I loved him since the beginning

-Now there are actually multiple reasons as to why I matched you up with Shigaraki, one of them being the fact that you are calm and logical but still allowing yourself to be loose and crack a few jokes sometimes. I think Shigaraki would respect that and probably admire your humor.

-Being calm and logical around Shigaraki is important, because he has very heavy mood-swings and being able to keep your composure if he switches dispositions will earn his approval. And while that is important, Shigaraki would probably also enjoy a carefree soul, so if you have the tendency to slip a dirty joke in on a conversation and make him crack a smile then you’re on the right path.

-The chances of you and him running into each other would either be by pure chance or an unintended every day occurrence. He could be a casual looking citizen who you have no idea is walking around in the streets with other people or he could be the one who was responsible for holding you captive. In an accident.

Well shit.

This is how it ends, huh? Being restrained in a villain warehouse where nobody will find you after they strip you of your skin and throw you out the door faster than you could say ‘sorry’?

Not to mention, earlier you kept thinking that nothing bad was going to happen today. That everything was going to be sugar and rainbows, that it was all going to be fine. But you were oh, so wrong.

"You fucking jinxed it, you idiot," you growled to yourself before attempting to slam the large and heavy cuffs on your wrist down on the metal chains dangling from your ankle.

But it didn’t budge, you reeled back the both of your wrists and tried again, still to no avail.

To be honest, you had absolutely no idea as to why you were being held here in this crappy makeshift hideout against your will. One minute, you were simply walking out of your apartment going to get some much-needed groceries from the store, and the next thing you know, you're being stabbed with a needle in your neck before blacking out completely.

Snarling in disappointment, you took a deep breath and then slumped down to your knees with your back facing the wall. After your little endeavor at trying to break free, your body temperature flared up and made you more heated up than normal. You must be getting sick or something because it was either you or the bands on your wrist making you burn up!

But the metal of the room surrounding you was unusually cold and so you used that to your advantage and turned gently, making sure to press as much skin to the wall as you could. The chilled and smooth surface helped immensely as you felt the searing hot sensation fade away.

You sat for a moment, feeling a wave of drowsiness hit your senses as you continued to be still.

How long have you been out? Would it be appropriate if you were to fall asleep again? Well, it's not like you were going anywhere soon and it certainly didn't feel like it was going to harm you if you got any sleep.

So you did. You closed your eyes deliberately before shifting into a more comfortable position and getting some well-earned sleep, hoping to have some sort of good dream before dwelling into your death.

But unfortunately, your time had come sooner than expected. Because as immediately as you tried to gain some repose, a soft click could be heard echoing across the room as the door unlocked to reveal a pale hand lightly opening the large ingot door leading to the entrance.

The pale hand followed up to unveil the shape of a man dressed in a plain black trench coat and tacky dress pants with multiple detached hands on different parts of his clothed limbs. Three were seated on each arm and his shoulders had one individually while his neck and the back of his head had one apiece. The most interesting one, however, was the single hand obscuring his identity from your view.

You could see he was dangerous. Not just because of the limbs, but rather the ominous demeanor he held over his presence and the fact that he seems fully aware of your current situation.

Not long after he had walked in was he followed by two other figures. One was a male with jet-black hair in another simple black jacket and matching pants with various amounts of marks and staples decorating his scarred body and the other was a shorter female. Her ash-blonde hair was loosely wrapped in twin buns, strands of wild stray hairs centering in different angles as two fringes on each side of her face framed her oddly innocent looking appearance as she donned a plain seifuku with a regular Kansai collar.

The greyish-blueish haired male mentioned beforehand was staged in the center of the room and the two other people, which you assumed to be his associates, positioned themselves each on one side of him.

Silence enveloped the room, the heavy steps of their shoes coming to a stop as they gained sight of your poor, slightly hunched figure.

He then clasped his hands behind his back before turning, what you thought to be, his gaze to the other walls. His back faced you as his accomplices kept their eyes fixed on you, watching your every movement so that you didn’t aim to escape.

“So, ” he began, “Do you know why you were brought here for?”

You shook your head no as you tried to keep your cool, already feeling the tension in the room rise by the minute. The burning sensation from a while ago returned and grew from warm to nauseating as it quickly surrounded your senses. Sweat began dripping down your forehead as your stomach did reoccurring backflips.

You could almost feel the other two burn their eyes into your torso, internally gnawing at your emotions despite their placid expressions.

He simply hummed before returning his sight on you, his hands still not leaving their positions as he took a few strides in your direction and stopped a couple of centimeters away from your feet.

You lifted your head to gape directly at the hand covering his face and from the side of your perception, you could make out a pair of piercing blood-red orbs. The wicked glint in his eyes threatening to make you lose your composure, as he then backed away to give you some space. Much to your relief as you released a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

You internally quivered as you let your gaze drop to the floor before hearing a heavy sigh of what appeared to be..frustration?

"There has appeared to have been a mistake made. You are not whom I intended to be after." he finally spoke, the stillness after was deafening.

"The idiots out there must have grabbed the wrong woman," he emphasized, " A woman with brunette hair, just like you."

You raised your head and suddenly put up the largest grin you could muster at the moment. Your whole dampened attitude instantly lighting up at the possibility to live another day and forget all about this encounter.

"But, another problem strikes the current situation at hand. We simply can't let you free and go off telling another hero about our location, " he defined as your smile began to falter.

"So we'll give you three options. We'll let you go scot-free and you keep your mouth shut while my subordinates check in on you from time to time, you join the league free of surveillance and a life free of heroes, or you die at the hands of my comrades?"

"Wait...You're giving me a choice? For real?" you questioned, "You're not just going to kill me?

"No, I am not, " he answered, "Why would I? It'd be a waste and sweeping up the ashes of another dead person and concealing the evidence is enough work already."

You shivered in fear but still hummed in agreement, yet slightly suspicious of this man's intentions but not willing or bold enough to question his motives. So you went with the safest alternative, they let you go and kept an eye on you while you continued to live out your daily life in semi-peace.

"The first choice," you replied confidently. "I don't want to be involved in you guy's problem and I'm sure the other option is self-explanatory, Mr. Handyman."

He simply chuckled dryly in response to your joke before looking at you once more and snapping his fingers, then everything went black.

-You were knocked out, again. Though the next time you woke up, you found yourself in your living room laying on the couch unharmed. You checked you wrists to find that the cuffs of your restraints left a mark deep in your skin as it burned a bright sweltering red. You didn’t notice a bright piece of yellow paper sticking to your chest until you brushed your fingers over your collarbone. A neon lemon sticky note was attached to your shirt, you ripped it off and examined it closely. It said…

-Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open, we’ll be watching you.

-And so you didn’t really sleep that night because of both the LOV and the fact that you had taken more than the usual amounts of naps you were prone to take during your free time. But other than that you continued on with your life and moved on, almost forgetting your previous encounter with the S rank villain.

-The next time you had met him was when he arrived about a month later and by that time you had nearly forgotten all about what happened back there. So when he came to check up on your status and making sure you weren’t attempting to leave the country, he was surprised to find you living comfortably with no sign of your apartment faltering and in poor conditions.

-He knocked and waited patiently, his casual black hood and oddly bright red sneakers helped concealed his identity as he stood still. He had imagined that you thought that you were being left along, that you would trembled beneath his gaze again. But when you opened the door to reveal yourself, you just stared at him.

-You stood there trying to remember who this man was, but he didn’t say anything and instead pushed you aside and made himself at home. He walked to your living room and plopped himself on the couch before removing the hood from his head.

- “Oh, yeah Mr.Handyman”

-You didn’t say anything and instead switched the TV on. You sat down next to him as you felt his eyes burn holes into your back.

-And that’s how it went on for weeks, Shigaraki would always come up to your place to ‘Check and make sure you’re not alerting anyone’ and basically just hang out. The probability of him actually getting comfortable would take somewhere around 2-3 months once he realizes you’re not a threat.

-He won’t even do that much except lounge around and play video games with you, it’s not that villainous except for when he threatens you.

-I think that Shigaraki would enjoy playing video games with you as long as you let him win sometimes. He’s extremely petty so if you won three times in a row and haven't let him get in on a victory , he’ll probably make a fuss about it and not play for awhile. If you’re drawing or reading and not paying attention to him, that’ll probably get on his nerves a little bit too.

-He’s a dick. And yes, that’s something to worry about.

-Love…what is that? Sounds disgusting. Shigaraki is not that emotionally intelligent due to the fact that he had been deprived of tenderness the majority of his childhood so having someone act normal around him and unintentionally be kind to him makes him feel…weird. He doesn’t understand what the warm feeling in his chest is and why it makes him stir.

-You can make him crack a smile. You can make him laugh with your corny jokes and lift up his spirit after a bad day. He doesn’t know what it is, but he likes it and wants all of it.

-So the next time he had come in, he had told you about what kind of odd effect you had on him as he described it in the most surreal way he could say it. When you explained the feelings to him, you had also suggested dating to which he agreed after he had a proper grip on what he had just been told.

-Now Shigaraki has not received a lot of affection from his family during his childhood, only his mother and sister has provided him with physical endearment so that will obviously have an impact on his behavior now that he realizes how touch-starved he’s been.

-He will not however, under no circumstances, put his hands on you unless the situation calls for it or you gave him permission to. He does not want the same incident to happen to his significant other as it did his family. That’s the reason why he starts slightly trembling, which could be indicating a panic attack (as I imagined him to have a handful of episodes already.

-So If that happens, then you’d have to use your rationality and be careful. Get his special gloves and calm him down through the emotional episodes.

-I don't think the rest of LOV would mind you, Dabi wouldn't care about you at all but would still keep an eye on you while Toga and Twice ;-; would make small talk with you.

-So Shigaraki and you are more than a perfect fit, your personality traits don’t exactly clash but instead pick up where another one falls down! Your decisiveness and rationality along with your humor and liveliness helps balance you on the scale whereas Shigaraki’s standoffish and aloof position keep you both on your feet.

So I hope you liked this match-up! Writing the clip for this one was fun!

@idontknowuwu3

#Shigaraki Tomura #Tomura Shigaraki #bnha #mha #mha match-ups

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years

Text

Of Forbidden Kisses And Wrenching Promises || Ada Shelby x fem!reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested: “hey, could I request prompt 20 for Ada please? your writing is amazing btw! ” (Thank you love ♡)

Summary: n.20 from my prompt list: “As long as I am alive” Warnings: swearing, mentions of family abuse, references to homophobic harassment, maybe angst

Author’s notes:

I just reached 357 followers, yay! Thank you so much babes ♡

Behind each one of these works there are sleepless nights and something really close to multiple mental breakdowns, so, please, take a minute to send me a message about it, I need actual feedbacks to understand how to improve my skills and grow ♡

PLEASE, IF YOU’RE A VICTIM OF ANY SORT OF ABUSE, SEEK FOR HELP, YOU DON’T HAVE TO GO THROUGH THIS ALONE.

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

I assumed this was a request for an Ada x female reader, if I misunderstood your message, I’m so so so sorry, contact me and I’ll do my best to make your wishes come true!

If you want to be added to my tag list, please, directly message me

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

When the first reticent knock hit the rugged surface of her door, Ada was still pacefully immersed in a deep slumber. She dreamt of an exquisite white dress made of voile and organza, soft and floaty in the late March bitter air, the nectarous parfume of uncountable orange blossoms garnishing the marble altar, a small church crowded with her loved ones, slightly anxious due to the endless wait. Actually, more than once, her subconscious had previously set up similar romantic scenarios thanks to her evergreen imagination. Truth was that, buried in her heart, laid a burning desire for that special day to come soon, only God knew how much she wanted to walk down the aisle on the arm of her beloved eldest brother, always keeping her fond eyes locked with her lover’s ones; and, no matter how fully aware she was that her fantasies never would have come true, at least nobody could deprive her of those tender imaginary moments.

But then, just as the opening notes of the wedding march resounded in the bright nave, a series of new blows, this time much heavier and more insistent, rabidly stole her from her sweet dreams, making her eyelids flinch with dismay. Barely a minute passed, as her drowsy brain struggled to retrieve enough lucidity, yet again a pair of apparently restless fists caught her attention. ”Someone better be dying, it’s fucking 3 a.m.!” With that angry groan, followed by a few abrupt movements, she rolled out of bed without even wearing her woolen housecoat, and, careless of the cold, she hastily reached for the door, ready to shout in Tommy’s cocky face all of her annoyance for that rude disruption of her serene sleep. Still, when she peeped into the corridor, Thomas was not there, and her breathe cracked as she found herself unexpectedly contemplating a horryfying sight, to say the least.

Your trembling figure was standing right in front of her, pure painc contaminating your martyred face, while your y/e/c eyes, as dire as stravation, disturbingly stared at Ada with blind terror swimming in them. The shock was overwhelming, to the point that one of her hands instinctively went to cover her open mouth, partially muffling her shaking voice which came out in an almost unaudible sigh. “Oh my God, y/n, what have they done to you?” She carefully led you inside the room before closing the door behind your shoulders, so many questions were torturing her mind as her fingers gently started to trace the limbs of the multiple bruises deturping your angelic features. Your swollen eyes were cordoned by several black and blue marks, greenish welts covered your cheekbones, multiple bad cuts defaced your brow, the bridge of your nose, your wonderful lips; for an endless moment, her heartbeat stopped, and a violent feeling of nausea forcefully climbed her throat, when the mere thought of the rest of your poor body ran through her groggy head. “M-my father… he saw us, I-I don’t know how… I don’t kn-now… He found out, he’s…” Your chest raised and lowered at an unbearable rate, clearly showing the destructive effects of a recent trauma on your frail self, you didn’t even seem able to formulate proper sentences, since they sporadically spilled out of your mouth in fleeble sobs, so you decided to pause that unquiet rambling for a brief moment, tightly shutting your eyes closed and desperately pressing your wet cheek against Ada’s left palm, despite the sharp pain, because you irremediably needed to feel her close in order to regain strength. However, by the time your blurry gaze returned on her, you saw large tears stream on her porcelain face too. A dull ache radiated through your sternum due to that excruciating view, and you forced yourself to hold back your crying, somehow managing to appear calmer; the two of you had to deal with that cruel reality, there was no way you could avoid it, moreover you were quickly running out of time as the clock kept dangerously ticking. “He’s sending me to an institute in French, Ada. A-a ship is leaving in a couple hours and-” Before you could pronounce your next word, she impetuosly got away from your half embrace, prey of her own rage and consternation, aghast to hear that terrible news. “No! He can’t do that, fucking hell, no!” Those hysteric shrieks erupted from her stinging craw while her hands ended up between her short curly hair in a gesture of silent vexation, her feet eluded the control of her mind, frenetically starting to drag her from one side of the bedroom to another, as if those irrational movements could help her figure out a solution. “We can’t let him-… w-we have to do something, there must be something we can do!”

Her agonizing loud cries tore your ears and soul apart, actual weeps were now leaving her pale lips, in part illuminated by the silver light of the moon radiating through the windows, then her bluish irises pierced yours, expressing all of her destructive sorrow and having a massive knot form in your throat, mercilessly obstaculating your already irregular ventilation. Carefully, you approached her, stretching out your arms in her direction, until your palms enfolded her gelid face; your thumbs began to warmly rub her skin, whiping some tears here and there, with such a care conceivable only thanks to the deepest love.

“Ada, my love, listen to me. I have to go, for our sake” your forehead slowly joined to hers, while you whispered those words to convince yourself as well that that was the right choice to make “my father… he-e threatened to report us to the police. And look at me, look what he’s done to me, he w-will kill us both, if I don’t leave today” Suddenly her fingers entangled yours, still laid on her soft cheeks, and you watched a spark of hope grow in her dilated pupils. “We can run away, Tommy will help us find a place, we can-” You slightly nodded your head no, painfully biting your lips because of your fervent frustration. You knew she was not thinking straight, your family had been in business with the Peaky Blinders for three years now, your father was a dangerous man, any sort of interference with that awful situation would’ve certainly disrupted the delicate balance between the two clans.

“Thomas can’t help us, he will always find me. I had to sneak out of the window to see you tonight, walking in the shadow like a filthy thief. Pol helped me, but God knows what will happen, if he finds out. I have to leave.” You brought your mouth to cover hers, temporarily dampening her desperate wailings, holding her body close, in attempt to make her perceive all of your affection, deliberately ignoring the soreness of your injuried ribs. For those few minutes all of your affliction disappeared, you passionately kissed your lover till you literally run out of breathe, but again, you didn’t care, and you just went on; until Polly entered the room with death floating in her dark irises. “Y/n, we need to go now, there is no much time left, darling" Her aunt’s subdued tone was evidently borne by melancholy, she looked at your entangled figures with the ken of a woman who had experienced the sour taste of separation, it felt like having your heart ripped out of your chest, she had felt so many kinds of pain, but none of them was nearly comparable to that tremendous grief. With a last peck on your lips, Ada took your hands and placed them at the height of her beating heart. “I’ll look for you, for as long as I am alive. And I’ll find you, no matter how long it takes, I will bring you back home, y/n, I promise.”

tag list: @namelesslosers; @shadow-of-wonder; @spidey-pal

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ebaeschnbliah · 5 years

Text

CHANGING OF THE GUARD

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A metaphorical reading of Sherlock BBC, The Sign of Three (and beyond)

The beginning of Sherlock BBC, The Sign of Three, really leaves no doubt what the theme of its story is about. When the eye of the camera zooms slowly in on Speedy’s and the famous black door with the number 221 in Baker Street, it seems to take it’s path right through a literal wood of pointy, black spears. Fences built of iron spears that guard the place..

It starts with a row of spears in the forground. When those get blurry, even more spears from midfield move into focus. Finally the camera reveals spears also in the background. That makes three levels of spears, one might say.

Three levels of spears stand like guardians in front of 221b Baker Street. Could those three levels symbolize the three stabbing victims of The Sign of Three? After all, each one of the three characters is depicted as guard, as protector ... and each one of them gets stabbed.

TBC below the cut ...

Stephen Bainbridge

He is a Private in the Household Guard of the Queen. The Grenadier Guards is an infantry regiment of the British Army. The current regiment is known as the 1st Regiment of Foot Guards … ’Every foot soldier bears the mark’ (Soo Lin, TBB). How surprising is it that the ‘East’ zooms in on Bainbridge before he gets stabbed by Jonathan Small?

Also … the gesture of the woman is interesting. Two Vs make a W (or a M … depends on the turning). It also lets me think of Culverton Smith’s W-gesture in TLD, in the short clip with the man disguised as cock (x).

Modern Grenadier Guardsmen wear a cap badge of a "grenade fired proper" with seventeen flames (x). Foot soldiers linked to exploding grenades … what a lovely coincidence, especially regarding the ‘passions’ grenade from TFP. :)

When the changing of the guards takes place, Bainbridge is already wounded and slowly dying. He got stabbed before the changing.

The name Stephen is of Greek origin and means ‘crown’ and ‘that which surrounds’. Saint Stephen was stoned to death and is regarded as the very first Christian martyr.

Another little detail caught my attention as well. Just a word used twice to describe a person.

SHERLOCK: “Elite Guard.” JOHN: Forty enlisted men and officers. SHERLOCK: Why this particular Grenadier? Curious.

And in TRF Sherlock sais:

SHERLOCK: This little boy; this particular little boy ... who reads all of those spy books. What would he do? JOHN: He’d leave a sign?

Max Bruhl left a sign. Stephen Bainbridge wrote a note. Not much of a difference, I think.

Guardsmen Max and Claudette

James Sholto

He is a retired Major of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers and Captain John Watson’s old commanding officer. A decorated war hero but not to everyone. Something went wrong when he led a team of new recruits into battle. ‘They all died’ (just like AGRA). Major Sholto, badly wounded, was the only survivor. Press and families gave him hell. Deaththreats and hate almost turned him into a recluse, into a most unsociable man, who spends his retirement way out in the middle of nowhere.

I’m quite sure this has been mentioned before, the 5th Northumberland Regiment on Foot (’foot soldiers’ too) still uses their ancient badge … St George killing the dragon (x) Every quiver of his beating heart

‘He destroyed us all’ … somehow these words sound very similar to the one Sherlock uses in TFP, in a situation where he considers himself to be a soldier: ‘Five minutes. It took her just five minutes to do all of this to us. Well, not on my watch.’

As mentioned above, Mary’s dialogue in TST matches the description about the incident with Sholto’s recruits almost identically … ‘something went wrong’/’but it went wrong’ … ‘I was the only one who made it our’/’they all died; he was the only survivor’. And Mary considered AGRA to be her family ... ‘we were family’.

Major John Sholto is an original character from ACDs novel The Sign of Four. His sons are called Thaddeus and Bartholomew. The renaming of the Major’s first name - from John to James - must have been a deliberate choice. A choice which is reflected in the skip code of TEH ‘John or James Watson … saint or sinner ... James or John’, as well as in John Watson’s middle name … Hamish (Scottish for James).

Major Sholto’s room number is ‘two oh seven’. This reminds me of the ‘double oh seven’ codeword for the ‘flight of the dead’ in ASIB. Two and double …. both means 2. Sure, the number on the door reads 207 but then, it happens several times in this story, that things told and things shown are sometimes not quite the same or vis versa.

When the wedding guests leave the church and the reception takes place, Sholto is already wounded and slowly dying. He has been stabbed before.

Sherlock investigates the cases of both guardians

Bainbridge’s note reaches him sometime during the wedding preparations. John and Sherlock arrive just in time to save Private Bainbridge’s life. The case though remains unsolved.

Without knowing it at the time, Sherlock investigates Sholto’s case during John’s stag night. They call the investigation of the ghost-man the ‘Mayfly Man’ case. It remains also unsolved.

Sherlock includes both unsolved cases into his best man speech at John’s wedding and here at last, all the puzzle pieces fall into place and Sherlock is able to solve both cases, which are closely related. As a consequence Major Sholto’s life can be saved as well.

The person responsible for the attempts to kill Private Bainbridge and Major Sholto is:

Jonathan Small

‘Brilliant, ruthless, almost certainly a monomaniac - though, in fairness, his photographs are actually quite good’ … that’s how Sherlock describes the killer. Small’s motive is revenge. He is convinced that Major Sholto is responsible for the death of Small’s brother Peter, who had been among the killed recruits. It seems that Private Bainbridge merely had the misfortune and got randomly chosen for the rehearsal of Sholto’s murder. But ... why this particular 'foot soldier’? (I’ll come back to that question later)

Jonathan Small grins like Jim Moriarty and wears a checkered shirt like John. He is a brilliant, ruthless monomaniac and obviously also a womaniizer who has no problems to woo half a dozen women, almost at the same time, into telling him well-kept secrets. Basically … a perfect blend of Jim Moriarty and traditional John ‘three continents’ Watson.

Like Major Sholto, Jonathan Small too is an original character from ACDs novel The Sign of Four. His name has not been changed. Only together with his female and not-canon counterpart Janine, Mary’s bridesmaid, who seems to be a lovely blend of Irene and Jim, the name chosen for the antagonist of this episode, appears to gain a special significance.

Janine - deiminutive of Jeanne, female form of John … ‘little Johnny’

Jonathan - diminutives are Jon, Jonni ... though not related to ‘John’ regarding the meaning of the name, it can still be heard as … ‘little Jonny’ (’You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead.‘ Jim, TGG)

None other than ‘little Jo(h)nny’ (the H makes the difference) is responsible for the almost murder of Private Bainbridge and Major Sholto, the first two stabbing victims of this episode.

‘Little Johnny’ also happens to be another word for penis … the ‘meat dagger’.

Who’s the third ‘victim’ then?

Mary Elizabeth Morstan

She is a character full of surprises who starts as a simple nurse who marries John Watson in TSOT. Among Sherlock’s deduction-word-cloud in TEH the term ‘guardian’ can be found and only one episode after the ‘wedding’, Sherlock outs her as facade … his very own facade, because the Empty Houses in Leinster Gardens, on whose front walls Mary’s face is projected, are Sherlock’s property.

Mary Elizabeth Morstan isn’t her real name either. It’s the name of a stillborn child from a gravestone in Chiswick Cementry. This connects her character to the other stillborn child of this story ... Rachel Wilson, the pink lady’s daughter from ASIP. The initials A.G.R.A. stand for Mary’s true name, she tells later … but soon this turns out to be incorrect as well. A.G.R.A. was a group of four undercover agents who worked for the British Government. Prior to her ‘retirement’ Mary had been a member of that group. Sherlock describes her as ‘super-agent with a terrifying skill set’. Based on the current status, her two first names are Rosamund Mary … the family name is still unknown (if there even is one).

Why should Mary be the third stabbing victim?

Readers of my theories will probably know that I’m playing for a long time now with a mind palace scenario which stretches from the beginning, most likely in PILOT (or even before) to the end of S4 (x). Back then I wondered ...

Is it really so farfetched to consider the possibility that Sherlock tries to deduce and solve the mysteries and problems of his own live - and his falling in love with John - at first in his mind? Before he comes out?

Over decades - since ACD - the story of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson has been told by the famous 'unreliable narrator’. Could it be that this time - with Sherlock BBC - the world will get the true story? Finally told by Sherlock himself? By looking right into his heart and mind and soul? By showing how his brilliant mind works? How his heart and soul expand and grow?

Would TPTB do such a thing? Stay in Sherlock’s mind over the span of multiple episodes? Follow his train of thought … show his evolution … in such a way? I don’t know. But it sounds thrilling to me. (Nov 2016)

Based on those early ideas I gradually came to the conclusion that Sherlock BBC tells the story of how Sherlock Holmes deduced his own persona. He does this the same way he investigates his criminal cases … by setting up scenarios in his mind and repeating those until he has found the correct solution (The Stage is set). Investigating his own case - the pink one - in such a way, would mean that all the characters which appear on Sherlock’s ‘mind stage’ represent different aspects of himself. Some of them may be based on real life persons, most of them are probably entirely created by Sherlock’s imagination. I like to compaire this process to a ‘mind journey’ or to a long (dramatic) dialogue, Sherlock holds with himself. This propably doesn’t happen during a dream or in a state of coma, as I thought back in 2016. A lot of time and thinking has gone by since then. Nowadays I presume that a conscious thinking process would fit better with the literal character Sherlock Holmes, whose deductions are always built on facts, science, reason and logic. It would be rather OOC that a man like Holmes would base an important, life changing decision on anything else than his razor sharp mind. Anyway, it’s just one of many theories.

Mary now … ever since I noticed the lot of similarities this character shares with Sherlock (x) my view on her started to change considerably. To me she isn’t the woman anymore who comes between Sherlock and John but instead the facade Sherlock Holmes created and married to his traditional, eternal friendship with John Watson for the sole purpose, to hide his romantic feelings and his sexual desire for the friend behind this protective wall. Mary is Sherlock’s facade, his guardian, his firewall … because:

John can’t ever know that I lied to him. It would break him and I would lose him forever – and I will never let that happen. Please … understand. There is nothing in this world that I would not do to stop that happening.

In my opinion, these are Sherlock’s own words and they express his fear of what might happen to the uinque friendship he shares with John, if the friend ever discovers the true nature of his feelings for him. Sherlock would do anything to stop that happening, even if this means that he has to incarcerate his emotions inside a high-security facility, behind elephant glass and chain his sexuality with iron bonds to a wall in a padded cell, like a hound from hell.

The ‘meat dagger’ incident

Sherlock tells the wedding guests - Major Sholto sits among them - about the unsolved Bainbridge case and asks if any of them has got a theory how that guard might have been stabbed. What kind of murderer can walk through walls, which weapon can vanish? Molly’s fiancé Tom (both characters are mirrors for John and Sherlock) assumes it could be a case of ‘attempted suicice by meat dagger’ ... something that would have been self administered.

A lot has been written since then about the ‘meat dagger’ as a metaphor for 'penis’ …. for ‘little Johnny’. :)

Sherlock sees only one feature of interest in the whole case … while he tried to solve the mystery, the eternal friend saved the life of the guard. And just the same happens a little while later with Major Sholto, the other guardian. It turns out that both men - both guardians - have been stabbed by the same killer … Jonathan Small … little Jonny, the meat dagger ....

There’s only one other character in this episode who has been stabbed unknowingly as well. That’s Mary. And in her case it’s indeed … ‘stabbed by meat dagger’ because Sherlock deduces her pregnancy by the end of the episode. Or expressed in computer language: the firewall has been penetrated by the virus.

The ‘father’ might be John or David, Mary’s ex. It doesn’t matter if one views the story metaphorically where all characters represent aspects of Sherlock himself. Going by his looks, David is clearly a mirror for John, while his history regarding the constant online observation of Mary, connects him to Mycroft, the brain. David seems to be a ‘blended’ mirror like Jonathan Small (John/Jim) or Janine (Irene/Jim). A mirror who represents the ongoing interest of the brain in the feelings hidden behind the facade.

When Sherlock marries John and Mary, he puts a guardian in front of his true feelings for the friend. He tries to ‘downgrade’ those feelings. And yet, Sherlock allows three ‘social ancounters a year’ but ‘always in John’s - the traditional friendship’s presence’. That sounds very much like the ‘calculated risk’ Mycroft takes with Eurus. Both ‘brothers’ seem to be ‘love-addicts’ in need of a fix, once in a while … when the burden of ‘holding oneself to a higher standard’, of ‘keeping oneself right’ gets too heavy … or too boring. In that case it could propably happen that one takes the frustration out on the wall … then the wall has it coming … :)

The moment of revelation

When Sherlock is blinded by the flashlight of ‘little Jo(h)nni’s’ camera, he suddenly realizes that the cases of Bainbridge and Sholto are connected. That the stabber has to be the same person. It’s the moment when the first domino piece falls and knocks over the next, and the next, and the next …. leading to a chain reaction of revelations at the end of which Sherlock knows without any doubt that his new facade had been penetrated again … this time though by a ‘kill shot’. He’d been hit by AMO (the perfect ammonition), fired by the crack shot that is his eternal friend. The seed of love has been laid without Sherlock noticing the ‘chink in his armour’ through which Cupid’s arrow hit home. Now love has taken root behind his facade and is growing.

The name chosen for that love is Rosamund - Rose of the world, as the dialogue in TST confirms. There’s a real rose of that name - Rosa Mundi - an old rose depicted in a work of Sandro Botticelli “Virgin Adoring the Sleeping Christ Child”. This rose is also known by the synonym ‘rosa versicolor’ - which means ‘rose of many or changing colours ... iridiscent’.

The word iridescence is derived in part from the Greek word ἶρις îris , meaning rainbow, It is the phenomenon of certain surfaces that appear to gradually change color as the angle of view or the angle of illumination changes. (X)

Sherlock - the ‘virgin’ he is called in ASIB by Jim and Irene - announces the pregnancy of Mary (I still wonder if this means that he is the 'Gabriel’ of A.G.R.A. - the angel who announces virgin Mary’s pregnancy). And during the stag night, John is labeled with ‘Madonna’. Another name for Virgin Mary. This turns the eternal friend also into the ‘virgin’, just like Sherlock and Mary. Another ‘sign of three’ one could say.

Three virgins - three novices - who will now start a new journey on a way they have never travelled before. Sherlock will finally encounter romantic love and accept it ‘it is what it is’, the facade will ‘get retired in a pretty permanent sort of way’ as the brain blatantly puts it in TST and the traditional ‘eternal’ friendship will have to change into a romantic-sexuell relationship. A morphing together of friendship and sex - John and James - would be a quite logical consequence, I guess.

In TST the little baby is christened with the name Rosamund, a name that can be traced back to ‘rainbow’ … Rosie for short. And rosy=pink!

‘Oh, what a night! ... I was never gonna be the same … I felt a rush like a rollin' ball of thunder spinnin' my head around n' takin' my body under’

No wonder this song has been chosen by the creators to accompany this scene. Overwhelmed by emotions - surprise, confusion, amazement, shock, joy, panic, uncertainty, concern, fear - Sherlock isn’t able anymore to carry on with this ‘wedding’ .... with this renewed ‘changing of the guard’. He walks away alone into the night. The case is solved. Sherlock is aware of what happened. Now he has to deal with the consequences. Should he really replace his guardian again or should he finally stop pretending, stop lying, drop the facade and confess his deepest secret?

Because if you tell them and they decide they’d rather not know, you can’t take it back. You can’t unsay it. Once you’ve opened your heart, you can’t close it again.

This confrontation, Sherlock fights with himself, becomes the centrepiece of the following episode (HLV) where Sherlock is completely torn into. One half of his being, still protected by the facade, is at war with the ... ‘other one’, the slowly increasing emotional side of him. But somewhere deep inside his mind he probably knows already that this is a war ‘he must lose’. And so Sherlock has to go deeper ...

TAB doesn’t only take Sherlock back to his literal roots. In this episode Sherlock investigates again two of the main threads of the story and ties them together through the ‘bride’ … FALL and HOUND. Mary, the facade, feels already ‘left behind’ and John, who represents Sherlock’s now fully acknowledged, tender feelings, directed at his friend ... ‘does grow up so fast’. The episode ends with Sherlock, who throws himself into a torrent of water=emotions and follows Jim Moriarty, Mr Sex, down the Reichenbach Fall … right into the emotional rollercoaster that is Series Four.

Like the investigation in TAB, this series runs backwards as well. TST repeats the events of S2 and S3 while TLD zooms in on S1. I persume this happens because Sherlock applies an ability he describes to Dr. Watson as ... ‘reasoning backwards’:

“In solving a problem of this sort, the grand thing is to be able to reason backwards. That is a very useful accomplishment, and a very easy one, but people do not practise it much. In the every-day affairs of life it is more useful to reason forwards, and so the other comes to be neglected. There are fifty who can reason synthetically for one who can reason analytically…Let me see if I can make it clearer. Most people, if you describe a train of events to them, will tell you what the result would be. They can put those events together in their minds, and argue from them that something will come to pass. There are few people, however, who, if you told them a result, would be able to evolve from their own inner consciousness what the steps were which led up to that result. This power is what I mean when I talk of reasoning backwards, or analytically.” (ACD A Study in Scarlet, Conclusion)

There’s one important change though, which will alter everything. Sherlock now adds baby Rosie, the pink seed of love, the AMO-factor, to his equation. As a consequence his mask, his facade - that what ‘thatched’ and guarded him - crumbles and falls. And Sherlock accepts the change … It is what it is.

Then, in TFP, the third episode of S4, Sherlock puts the results of his deductions under the sharp lens of his emotional core, for the ultimate experiment … the final distillation … to produce at last a clear solution. Still missing is the chemical reaction that should follow the application of that solution, one might say. :)

Back to the three ‘guardians’

My husband is three people

During the wedding preparations, John tries to interst Sherlock for this curious case. John says the sentence ‘my husband is three people’ twice, interupted only by this short dialogue:

SHERLOCK: Major James Sholto. Who he? MARY: Oh, John’s old commanding officer.

Taking John’s words ‘my husband is three people’ literally, then he is talking about his own husband … which will soon be Mary. Husband, not wife, because Mary represents an aspect of Sherlock, his facade, his cover ... his ‘thatch’. As mentioned above, when Sherlock marries John to Mary, he puts a guardian in front of his true feelings for the friend … one could also say …. he places a commander at their/his side. And this is exactly what Mary does in later episodes. She decides who mowes the lawn, chooses the name of the baby and that it is her to take John home and not vis versa.

Husbands can be equated with facades, with commanders, with guards. All of them serve as protectors and defenders of Sherlock’s true feelings for the friend.

Who could have been the first ‘husband’ … the first facade, the first guardian?

Neither of us were the first

This is what Mary tells Sherlock, while John welcomes his ‘privious’ commander. Is she really talking about sexuell experiences of her brand-new husband with another man, just to taunt Sherlock? Viewing the Mary-character as an aspect of Sherlock himself and not as a real wife that comes between two men, I heavily doubt this. Applying a metaphorical reading to the story, wouldn’t it be much more likely that this conversation is about their - Mary’s and Sholto’s - assigned profession. Neither of us were the first … guardian.

Mary is the husband to be, the most recently chosen facade, John’s new commanding officer, an undercover agent of the government.

Major James Sholto is John’s old commanding officer, Sherlock’s previous facade, which turned out to be not strong enough.

The only other guard in this story is Stephen Bainbridge, Private in the Household Guard of the Queen. The foot soldier named after Saint Stephen, the first martyrer.

And isn’t there somthing strikingly similar regarding those three guards as well as a noticeable increase in drama and strength, which so often happens when sequences are repeated on Sherlock’s mind stage?

Private Bainbridge guards the Queens Palace. The ‘East’ zoomes in on him, then he get’s stabbed by ‘little Jonny’ - the meat dagger - without noticing it. A changing of the guard takes place. Bainbridge almost dies beneath a shower of water.

Major Sholto guards the Queens country. He fights on a battlefield in the East beneath a burning hot sun. Something goes wrong and all the recruits under his command die. Badly wounded himself, Sholto has to leave the service and change into retirement. He gets stabbed by ‘little Jonny’ - the meat dagger - and almost dies.

Mary secretly works for Mycroft, the government, the ‘queen’ - as an undercover ‘super-agent with a terrifying skill set’. Her last operation took place in the East. Something went wrong and a lot of people died. It first looked as if Mary had been the only surviver (like Sholto). She marries ‘Johnny-boy’ Watson, gets stabbed by his meat dagger, becomes pregnant and …. dies not long after ‘PINK-RAINBOW-ROSIES’ birth.

The Sign of Three is about the ‘changing of the guard’. It takes place inside Sherlock’s head. But the marriage of John and Mary, that Sherlock arranges so heartbreakingly beautiful (and so strikingly yellow), turns out to be utterly pointless. Because the bride, the husband, the new commander, the facade is already pregnant ... had been stabbed before the wedding ... before the changing of the guard.

The Yellow Face connection

This isn’t new. It has been discussed before in this interesting meta About Yellow Face by @darlingtonsubstitution (sadly the part below the cut is gone) from 2017. As mentioned in the comments there, the creators of Sherlock BBC once refered to their favourite ACD stories. Yellow Face was among them but ... they wouldn’t be able to adapt it, because of the sensitive content, they said. This isn’t quite true though, it seems. On the contrary, the colour yellow features most prominently in Sherlock BBC … and not just the colour itself.

It starts with Sherlock’s and John’s first date at Angelo’s. The whole scene is drenched in yellow. PILOT even more than ASIP.

A secret code of ancient cyphers, sprayed in yellow paint, leads to the Yellow Dragon Circus.

Golden cats and big ‘yellow’ felines - lions - roam the story.

Yellow is the colour of the smiley face on the wall of the 221b living room.

There’s an assassin who carries a yellow ladder and a yellow tool case with a gun in it.

A bright yellow mask has been placed inside a box, alongside a train, a phone, nicotin patches and a note.

The main colour of the wedding ... bright yellow. It’s the wedding that leads Sherlock to the revelation ... to his love deduction.

A canary trainer, a trainer of yellow birds, turns out to be the killer.

Norbury, the case of the Yellow Face from canon, plays a vital role in TST

The finish of a race is marked with a bright yellow band that floats slowly to the ground while a ‘confessing’ serial killer, who is a mirror for John, passes as winner, signaling a W with his fingers, while the fingers from the ‘East’,, next to Private Bainbridge, signal a double V.

Yellow is the colour of the sun, of fire, flames and explosions.

Yellowbeard ….

But one of the most important links to Yellow Face is the following one:

JOHN: Mary, I may not be a very good man, but I think I’m a bit better than you give me credit for, most of the time. (Sherlock BBC, TST) 'I am not a very good man, Effie, but I think that I am a better one than you have given me credit for being.' (Grant Munro, The Adventure of the Yellow Face)

This piece of dialogue connects John to Grant Munro, the husband of Effie, the woman who hides her secret child from a previous marriage behind a yellow mask. She doesn’t do it out of some dark or sinister motive as Sherlock Holmes is convinced at first. Her former marriage had been legal and she'd loved her late husband dearly. Lucy, her little girl, can truly be called a child of love. But Effie fears to reveal Lucy, because the girl is ‘different' and the mother is anxious to lose the man she loves now, because of this. She is torn into between the love for her child and the love for her husband.

She (Effie) drew a large silver locket from her bosom. 'You have never seen this open.'

'I understood that it did not open.'

She touched a spring, and the front hinged back. There was a portrait within of a man, strikingly handsome and intelligent, but bearing unmistakable signs upon his features of his African descent. (ACD, The Yellow Face)

ACDs Yellow Face is a case without crime, without any devious betrayal. Instead, it’s about love and the fear to lose love, because at that time in ACDs story, it’s about a love not accepted by many.

'That is John Hebron, of Atlanta,' said the Lady (Effie), 'and a nobler man never walked the earth. I cut myself off from my race in order to wed him; but never once while he lived did I for one instant regret it. It was our misfortune that our only child took after his people rather than mine. (ACD, The Yellow Face)

In ACDs Yellow Face, the ‘first husband’ is of ‘African descent’ … just like Private Bainbridge, who is the ‘first guardian’ - the first of the three ‘identical husbands’ - in Sherlock BBC, The Sign of Three. He is the one who represents Sherlock’s earliest facade … the guardian of the Queen’s Palace.

Just like @darlingtonsubstitution presumed more than two years ago, I’m now more convinced than ever, that Moffat and Gatiss did adapt ACDs Yellow Face and they not only included it in Sherlock BBC, they made it into the main theme of their story (beside ‘hound’, ‘fall’ and ‘scarlet/pink’). In their version though, the focus shifts from ‘unacceptable’ skin-colour to ‘unacceptable’ sexuality.

Sherlock BBCs baby ... Rosie ... Sherlock’s baby ... represents love. And this love is pink and has been given a name that can be traced back to ‘Rainbow’. The Sign of Three tells the story of the ‘changing of the guards’ and how Sherlock finally discovers the AMO-factor that will alter his life completely.

When I discoverd Sherlock BBC for the first time (back in 2011) I was thrilled by that fascinating crime drama and its two charismatic leads. Now, after 13 episodes, it has grown into so much more than just an excellent crime drama among others. The way I read it, Sherlock BBC is a wonderful and stunning story about equality. Inside Sherlock’s mind, the great detective doesn’t only solve the greatest secret of his life. No, the actors Sherlock chooses to represent the different aspects of his persona, are as diverse as the colours of the rainbow. They are old and young, male and female, beautiful and ugly, strong and weak, rich and poor. Neither gender, sexuality nor the shade of skin colour or from which corner on this planet someone comes, is of any importance. Anyone can be a part of this Sherlock Holmes. That’s what makes this adaptation so absolutely unique to me. Sherlock himself becomes the rainbow of his own story.

Thanks for reading to anyone who is still there. :)))) I leave you to your own deductions. And thanks @callie-ariane for your invaluable scripts.

December, 2019

________________________________________________________________

Episode spanning metaphorical reading of Sherlock BBC:

From PILOT to TGG …. About the meaning of S1

From ASIB to TEH …. The big question - what is the meaning of Reichenbach

#changing of the guard #sherlock bbc #metaphorical reading #the sign of three #guardians #commanders #husbands #edited pics

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botslayer · 4 years

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Top Ten games of the 2010′s

This trend seems to be doing the rounds at the moment and seeing as I’ve been gaming for about as long as I can remember, It just feels right. So, let’s get into it. But first, worth saying: These aren't really in any specific order, it's just the games I've personally had the most fun with overall, but it's pretty hard to decide what the hard numbers on things you enjoy for different reasons are if that makes any sense. 10. The 2010's weren't exactly the best time for anyone, I think. For me they were a slog of finding myself and learning things I wish I didn't. Amid all those things I wanted some levity. The world needs something and stupid. We got a lot of it ion 2013 but I feel like we could have used it scattered around a bit more. In that spirit, allow me to show you one hell of a pick me up:

Saints Row 4

Saints Row 4 does not give a fuck. It is aggressively demonstrating that the entire time you play. It doesn't care in the slightest what you think or why, It just wants to show you cool, if juvenile, and interesting, if weird shit. It's the finer points of Ratchet and Clank's arsenal, SR3's humor, And superpowers that genuinely put Prototype and Infamous in a blender and tell you to go ape shit with them. The soundtrack isn't top shelf, it's the roof of the building the shelf is in. Saints Row Two had a better story overall but SR Four's was just plain fun and a solid enough story to still be invested.

The DLC was just as irreverent and madcap, Featuring everything from an evil Santa Clause to evil Gimps on Game of thrones chairs made of dildos Or Tropey-ass costumes and weapon reskins that I'd be genuinely surprised the game dev didn't get sued over. It has earned its place in my top 10 and I will die by that decision.

2016 saw the advent of a new genre. They blended TF2 and MOBAs, and we got hero shooters in their first AAA forms, Overwatch and Battleborn. But neither of these games is on this list, much as I liked them. Partly because the whole time, I kept thinking of one simple question: "Why do I keep thinking of...?"

Anarchy Reigns

Anarchy Reigns is my favorite Platinum game. Full Stop. The Story mode is interesting and has genuinely good character moments, the characters themselves are completely mental, ranging from a mercenary with a bionic cat leg that secretly has a gun built into it to a giant cyborg bull-man with a jet-powered hammer. The soundtrack is mostly angry hip-hop, making every song a banger and fittingly speedy for things like random bombing runs from jet fighters that come from absolutely nowhere.

There are giant monsters, cars with mounted flame throwers, giant robots, and the online is still pretty sweet because even when abandoned, loading it up with bots still rules. I regularly have more fun with this than I ever did with Overwatch, and I don't care how insane that sounds.

Some games want to make you feel something and fail. Some games make you feel some things accidentally, for example, a desperate need to laugh. This game made me feel like a human blender. Like a Chthonic god of mangled flesh and raw destructive power. Nyarlathotep ain't got nothing on me. I speak, of course, of...

[Prototype] 2

There's no end to the absolute destruction you feel like you're causing in this game. It feels more fluid than the first, the main character is a pinch more relatable, and all the body horror, superpowers, zombie hordes, and big old monsters make for some of the most memorable and fun moments and fights in gaming. The DLC is also pretty solid, adding new fun side challenges, and new powers and weapons that elevate you from "Flesh god" to "Screw physics, I made them" Omnipotent. Best god/monster simulation of all time.

Sometimes some games are at an honest tie in your mind. Be it that you like them for essentially the same reasons, or for completely different reasons, but the overall total joy or entertainment they bring is roughly equivalent. Here, we have a case of the former:

Furi/Cuphead

Both games have a tight focus on giving players a unique, boss-centric challenge, both have interesting, somewhat minimal narratives, and both are absolute eye candy.

Furi has a more "Samurai Jack" Quality to me. A complete badass on a relatively simple quest with a somewhat minimalistic art style learning some things as he goes.

Cuphead on the other hand, nails that rubber hose animation style, and the fun levity of such animations while still making the player's ability to interact with the world damn impactful and fun.

They share a spot in my soul, games I love everything about but will never be able to finish. Hats off to both dev teams.

Now here we have another tie. Mostly because the games are so close together, they need to be evaluated more or less as one product IMO, not enough changed for me to consider them separate games, fortunately, that is the furthest thing from an insult it can be in this situation. I present to you, my next pick(s).

Costume Quest 1/2

Now, This might seem pretty random considering my other picks, but honestly, I love Halloween, I love creative madness, I love subversion, I love good characters, and I love cool action, these games have all these things by the bucketload.

The first game is a wild ride through Halloween in multiple very lively locations and the second, slightly confusing as it is, is pretty awesome for the things it introduces, including time travel. Other elements, like the battle stamps, the truly epic forms of everything in the fights, The ability to customize your costumes, etc. they blur together in a pretty big way, but again, there's not a thing wrong with that when both games rock like crystal candy.

Now, if you hadn't noticed, all of the games on this list have had some hard action at their core, and while I don't HATE calmer games, a lot of the time, so many are kinda dull to me in that with the exception of easter eggs of some sort, most farming sims, for example, just have you doing normal farm stuff with very few twists, may as well start a real farm in that case. My most chill entry is a game that tosses that to one side, asks you to grab a suck cannon, and start harvesting gelatinous monster poop.

Slime Rancher

While you don't spend a lot of time actually interacting with other characters, they just talk at you, the story of the game is pretty effective, the player character of Beatrix has left Earth for a simpler life of Slime Ranching, which entails the raising of alien crops, delightfully derpy and colorful chickens, and going all around in an attempt to farm new breeds of slime for their genetic material to sell off or trade-in for the creation of gadgets while being surrounded by a cast of interesting characters. It's all very wholesome family fun.

The game looks great, has great ideas, and is genuinely the best farming game I have ever played. @ me all you want.

The 80's are almost fetishized nowadays. Given all the property reboots, games that go for the vibe and aesthetic of the time, etc. It almost seems as though the eighties vibe train ain't gonna stop rolling any time soon. But we owe it to ourselves to remember the first big swipe of madcap neon-colored actiony B-movie bullshit and how mind-meltingly epic it was. Ladies, Gents, and whatever else, I present:

Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon

Blood Dragon's story is relatively simple, you play Sargent Rex "Power" Colt (A name said in full so many times I thought his last name was "Powercolt" for the longest time), a former "Omega force" cyborg. Rex and his friend "Spider" were sent into a secret island base to investigate the supposed defection and treachery of their old commander, Ike Sloan. It turns out he has gone rogue and taken an army of "Mark 5" Omegaforce cyber-soldiers with him. What follows is a long story of betrayal, science fiction of the highest nonsensical level, comedy, and brilliantly cathartic action.

The collectibles range from data on animals, to research notes from a scientist, to literal VHS cassette tapes that have full descriptions of movies that I would legitimately watch if I could. "You may now kill the brides" is not a real film and I am angry for every day that that is true. Anyway, play Far Cry 3: Blood Dragon, I dunno if it's on PS4 but it's one game I'd buy a new/old console for.

A lot of superhero games NEED to railroad you. Your goals MUST be to save the lives of the people and help the weak and all that. But one dev asked the simple question: "What if it didn't?" "What if the player chose how to use their power? What if the player could be as evil or as good as they damn well pleased?" One game gave you the powers of thunder and lightning and asked what you'd do with it. It's sequel asked you the same, but against more... interesting forces.

InFamous 2

InFamous 2 is a game about making choices, just like the first one, also just like the first one, it can have an effect on gameplay. That effect went from "What does this particular power do in this allignment?" To "Which new set of NEW powers would you like?" The forces of the last game went from “Three flavors of gun-toting whackos” To “Possibly an allegory for the Klan, Swamp monsters, and Ice-powered super soldiers.”

This was, and still is, the best game in the whole series, The powers felt distinct from anything else and still do, the story is solid as a rock, and the enemy types were still varied enough to be interesting, I miss the Reapers from the first game, but that's about it. Everything else was a massive step up. If you have something that can run it, play it.

Action is something I think we can all appreciate on some level. We can understand when it does or does not work, we can understand when we do or do not like how it feels when we are the ones partaking in it. EX: Any schlep can tell you when the weapons in your game lack impact, or when your character moves too slow for the game to be fun. The following game is something I can't say anything of the sort about. And it's kind of like Wolfenstein, when you have enemies this bad, who the hell cares how many you kill?

Doom 2016

Y'all are lying if you say you didn't expect this one. It's DOOM 2016. This game is made of hate and fuck. AND I LOVE IT. You move so fast, you may as well be half cheetah and half sports car. You slaughter the dregs of hell by the dozens and even the biggest, baddest things this game throws at you can be beaten with the starting pistol if you have the stones for it. It looks amazing graphically, the demons all look appropriately threatening, and even the Multiplayer is a great deal of fun in my book.

Something worth noting: The story presented by default is pretty barebones, but that's where supplementary material fills in the gaps, the difference between supplementary material in most games and supplementary material here is the material is till IN THE GAME. You're free to ignore most of the plot as it happens around you, and even interesting tidbits of the lore like how certain demons function. Not only are these things missable collectibles, prompting continued play to find them, they are also pretty interesting reads. So yeah, just about everything you could want in a sequel/remake, builds the on lore and gameplay very organically.

And here we are, the last game I'd put in this category. An entire decade, and here, we end on the last game that left such an impact I'd put it in my top ten. But first, let's talk about expectations and delivery: When you say a game is coming out, there are certain expectations you have for gameplay, EX: I say "Ratchet and Clank" and you expect a TPS with platforming elements and crazy guns. I say "Gears of War" and people expect something to do with lumbering about in big armor, dismembering things with a chainsaw gun and otherwise shooting them to paste. We might also expect changes to things, better graphics, innovations in grenade variety, something as that franchise goes on.

After the last game in this series was released, there were tons of people who felt let down and disappointed by it. Then they released the still somewhat disappointing special edition of it. They were both still fun, but neither really felt like the full next step in the series. After a failed reboot, they returned to the original story and the lot of us rejoiced. And when it finally came out? It was a step up in most, if not, all regards, to its predecessors. You know what this last one is. Please, give a warm round of applause to:

Devil May Cry 5

A game that was not only a return to form, but a major escalation in gameplay for one character, and a new style of gameplay all together by way of yet another new character. It didn’t exactly hurt that the story kicked ten kinds of ass and that the game looked spectacular in both the design of everything and the actual graphical fidelity.DMC 5 is, like DOOM, Like InFamous 2, Like [PROTOTYPE] 2, everything you want in a good sequel. It built very well on already solid foundations and it was generally just a fun, slightly goofy, massively stylish, and ultra badass ride. I recommend this, and all these games, to anyone.Good night everyone, have a great 2020. And the rest of the decade, for that matter.

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 5 years

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heyyy! congratulations on reaching 500 followers 💜 i hope i’m not too late to send a request for your follower celebration blurb week so,, prompt 51 from the 100 prompts of fluff (part 2) list and prompt 74 from the Drabble List #2. with ash 🥺

Hello! Thank you for your message! 😍 And no, you weren’t late to the party at all. Sorry this took me some time 😓 I know one of the prompts you’ve sent was from the fluff list, but it end up hella angsty (with the happy ending tho) and i hope you’ll forgive me for that. Anyway, i love you and i hope you like it 🖤🖤🖤

Your hands were shaking uncontrollably. Your mind was trying to proceed at least one finished thought and failing every time. You knew only one thing. You had to leave this place and you had to do that before he comes back. You had to leave but you couldn’t, cause he locked the door when leaving and you had no key.

So you were just sitting on the floor, clinging on your knees and shaking with your whole body in shock after what you’ve been through. You had no idea how much time you’d spent like this, when you saw your way out. Your phone fell under the sofa and that’s probably why he didn’t take it when left. You stood on your knees and stretched to grab your phone, your body aching in protest.

You almost cried when you saw it was working. It had only nine percent of charge, but that was enough to make one call. You hesitated for the moment. You couldn’t call the emergency services, you just weren’t ready to talk to strangers and explain them what happened to you and how you of all people happened to get in a situation like that. You could call your friends, but you doubted they’d pick up so late and you would need to explain them everything and you had no time. What an irony it was, you thought, looking at a little black device in your hand. The only person you could rely on the situation like this was the last person you wanted to call. You took a deep breath, unblocked your phone and dialed the number you couldn’t erase from your memory even if you tried. And you never tried.

You were listening to the beeping praying he actually picked up and fearing that. But you knew that if he didn’t help you, no one would.

“Hello?” you heard. You didn’t realise how not ready to hear his voice you were until he spoke. And it broke down your dam, tears streaming down your face. You could just sit there on the floor, sobbing and listening to his questions.

“Y/n, just answer me, baby, where are you?” Ashton almost pleaded on the other side.

You knew your phone wouldn’t last long, so you got all the strength you still had and told him the address he knew himself.

“Is Mark there?” Ashton asked with metal in his voice.

“No,” you sobbed, “he locked me up and left.”

“I’ll be there in ten,” Ashton promised. “Just hold on, stay on the phone with me, okay?”

You heard him getting out of the house and the sounds of car door open and close an the engine start.

“My phone’s gonna die soon,” you said, wiping tears off your checks.

“You wanna hang up?”

“No, just saying so you don’t freak out when it happens,” you explained and chuckled through your tears, remembering how overworried he could be sometimes.

“I’m already freaking out, so,” he informed you, as you heard car horns in the distance.

“Please, don’t go on the red,” you asked.

“Too late for that.”

You heard his heavy laugh and felt the burning in your ribs weaken a little.

Your phone died when Ashton was already parking. You heard his heavy steps on the stairs in no time and then loud bang on the door showed he was seriously ready to knock out the door. For your utter surprise he succeeded on the second attempt, the door hanging on the upper hinge only behind him.

Ashton was standing there in his sweats and crumpled tee and you realised he got straight out of bed on your first call. He looked around to make sure there was no one else there and kneeled in front of your, his hand cupping your burning cheek.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he whispered, running his fingers over the handprint you knew you had on your face.

And then you started crying again and he hugged you. You had to swallow your moan at how your ribs hurt from Ashton squeezing you, but he heard your sharp inhale and let go of you instantly.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his hands on your shoulders, his eyes scanning your body in search for injuries. “Are you in pain? What the fuck did he do to you?”

You shook your head, trying to stop your tears. “Just take me away from here,” you asked. And he didn’t need you to repeat.

Ashton tried to pick you up to carry you, but you insisted on walking. You didn’t bother with closing the door, too busy with getting away from this damned place. The whole car ride Ashton was looking at you at any moment he could take his eyes off the road, but you weren’t looking back. You turned to your window and was watching streets flow past you. You couldn’t take looking at him, not after everything you’ve done to him and everything that happened next. You didn’t see where he was going until he pulled up at your house, too busy drowning in regret. You started unbuckling your seat belt as he opened his door.

“Wait, let me help you,” he dropped and appeared on your side of the car in two seconds. He opened the door and helped you out. He locked the car and looked at you fallen face.

“What?” he asked, not getting what upsetted you. “Don’t wanna be home? It’s alright, we can go to my place.”“No, it’s just-” you shook your head, “i just don’t have keys. I think I left my purse in the bar we were before.”

Ashton smiled and fished the keys on a familiar keyring out of his pocket.

“You still have them?” you gasped in disbelief.“You didn’t ask for them when you were leaving, so, I don’t know, I thought I might need them again some day,” he explained, his cheeks go pink.

You only smiled to that. You two entered the house and got into your apartment. Ashton turned on all the table lamps, knowing how you didn’t like bright lights at night and looked back at you.

“I’m gonna run you a bath, yeah?”

You nodded again and turned to check if the door was locked as soon as he disappeared in the bathroom. You understood there was no need to be afraid with Ashton by your side. Plus Mark never had the keys to your place. But you didn’t care if you were being unreasonable. After everything you’ve been through that night, you had all the right to be scared.

You entered the bathroom quietly, Ashton looked back at you, two bottles of the bath foam in his hands.

“Vanilla or lavender?”

You shook your head, “None.”

You picked up the hem of the hoodie you were in and wanted to pull it over your head, but stopped. You looked at Ashton in hesitation.

“Let me help you,” he said, getting it wrong.

“No,” you protested. You couldn’t let him see all the marks, you knew, were already blooming on your skin. “Can you, um- Can you leave, please?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve seen you naked multiple times,” Ashton huffed.

“It’s not that, it’s-” you had no idea what you could say. You didn’t want him to see, but you couldn’t come up with a believable reason for him to go. “Can you just go, please?”

But he understood. That very moment he understood, you saw it in his eyes, which suddenly lost all the colour.

“Show me,” he whispered, picking up on the hem of your hoodie.

“No, Ashton,” you begged, tears rolling down again.

“I wanna see,” he said, his voice strong and demanding.

And you gave in. You lifted up your arms, letting him take the hoodie off you. He hissed the moment you let your arms fall down, the old bruises going all the way up to your left shoulder. You shivered under his angry look. You’d spent enough time with Ashton to know he was unpredictable in his anger. And he wasn’t just angry, he was furious.

“You have to promise me something, Ashton,” you said, taking his hand which was already holding your top’s hem.

“I have to promise?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes. Promise me you won’t go seeking revenge,” you asked, meeting his eyes.

He was breathing hard, you felt a slight tremor in the hand you were holding.

“You don’t know what you’re asking me about,” he answered, his words barely audible. “No one does that to the woman I love and goes away with it.”

“He ruined enough,” you insisted. “I won’t let this ruin anything else.”

“That psycho won’t ruin anything. It will be me who will ruin him.”

“Ashton, you’ve too much to lose. Think of your career, think of your public image,” you kept admonish. “You can’t risk it all just to beat up some asshole your ex was stupid enough to get involved with.”

“No,” he answered stubbornly.

“He won’t get away with it, okay?” you breathed out.The choice was easy, either you go to the police or you let Ashton make a mess out of it. “I’ll go to the cops, tomorrow. I’ll go to them, I promise. But you’re not getting into that. I won’t let it ruin your career.”

Ashton looked at you. That was exactly how it used to be for the two of your, two stupidly stubborn people trying to win the fight. He shook his head and looked away.

“We’ll discuss my career tomorrow, okay? Now we need to get you to that bath.”

You agreed on that and finally let him take your top off. You saw by his reaction you probably had a huge bruise on your rib cage but you didn’t wanna see it, not yet. The water was terribly hot, but soothing and relaxing. You almost cried again at how wonderful it felt. Ashton made sure you were settled and stood up.

“Where are you going?”

“To the kitchen,” he explained with a sigh. “Do you still keep whiskey in the left cupboard?”

“I don’t wanna drink,” you refused, looking away, the memories flashing by in your mind. “It all started with the alcohol.”

“The whiskey is for me. You’re getting camomile tea,” he snorted and left the bathroom.

You had the tiniest doubt about where he was really going, but the noise of the kettle and Ashton going through your kitchen cupboards calmed you down.

He came back in couple minutes, put your favourite cup with the tea on the countertop next to the bath and sat down right on the floor, whiskey glass in his hand. You didn’t say anything, were just sitting there, he on the floor and you in the bath, and looking at each other, eyes full of sorrow and something deeper, which you were afraid to name.

When the water got cold and drinks were finished, he helped you out of bath and enveloped you in the biggest towel he could find in your cupboard. Ashton let you get dressed while he was cleaning up the bathroom. Then he turned off all the lamps in your flat, except the one in your bedroom, and got into bed with you, not even letting you ask for him to stay. You hadn’t fallen asleep so fast since you left him couple months ago.

The morning was difficult to say the least. You never had that waking up and not remembering what happened. It seemed like your brain was processing and lining up all necessary information before it made you wake up. So when you opened your eyes that morning the only thing you actually wanted was to fall asleep again. Not to remember all that shit from last night and not to feel the pain what seemed like all over the body. But when you did open your eyes, you realised you couldn’t sleep anymore. Because Ashton wasn’t by your side.

You almost jumped on the bed, wincing instantly at the dull pain in the ribs. He couldn’t be gone, you were persuading yourself. He couldn’t be after Mark, he promised you. And the it stuck you. He didn’t. He didn’t promise you anything. He said, you’d discuss his career later, but he didn’t promise he won’t go after Mark.

Your apartment was empty. Not a sign of Ashton anywhere, like you imagined him from the start. Your hands flew to your head. Your mind was running like the agonizing animal. What could you do? What could you possibly do to stop him? If it wasn’t too late to stop him anyway. You knew if there was a man on Earth capable of stopping Ashton from anything it was Calum. But would he listen to you? Would he even pick up if you phone him?

You rushed back into the bedroom and grabbed on your phone. Which was dead since last night. You didn’t even think about charging it. You felt the first tear roll down your face. It was okay, you tried to persuade yourself. You just needed to find the charger and it’ll work in under five minutes and you’ll call Calum and it will be okay. Everything will be okay, you kept repeating it like a mantra, going through your drawers in search of the fucking charger.

And then the unbelievable happened. You heard your apartment door open and close.

You basically ran out of bedroom to see Ashton looking at you with his eyes wide open, two cups of coffee from the nearest coffee shop and a paper bag in his hand.

“What?” he asked, not getting what was going on.

“I thought you left,” you managed to say and not breaking up completely.

“Yeah, for breakfast,” he answered, lifting up the cups and coming up to your kitchen counter to put it there. “You don’t have any coffee left. As usual, though. Don’t know what I was hoping for, you’ve never had coffee, so-”

And it crashed you. Everything that happened. Everything that you were scared could have happened. And him still being here and moaning about you not having coffee. After everything him still being here.

You lowered yourself on the floor and let the tears down. Ashton was instantly at your side, holding you, his eyes full of worry again.

“Hey, look at me,” he demanded. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, you understand?”

You shook your head. “It’s not that, Ashton. I thought you left,’’ you tried to explain.

“And I’m never gonna leave you ever again,” he promised.

“I thought, you left to find him,” you finally formed your fear in words.

Unexpectedly, Ashton chuckled. “So after everything you’ve been through, you were afraid for me?”

You tried to laugh through your tears, but your ribs protested.

“Remind me one more time why we broke up,” Ashton tried to keep joking, but that one happened to be too sad.

You shrugged, your eyes stare at his chest. “You’ve shown me what love can feel like. And I got scared and fucked everything up and ran away. Just like I always do,” you shrugged again. Tears were running down but you dropped any attempts of stopping them. “And I’m sorry, Ashton. I’m so fucking sorry. For leaving you and for breaking your heart and for calling yesterday. I’m sorry for not saying how much I’m sorry earlier. But most of all, I’m sorry for being afraid of loving you. I know I ruined the only good thing I had in life, and I’m so so sorry for that. I just hope you’ll forgive me one day.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” Ashton whispered, brining you close to his chest.

You had no idea how long you spent crying everything out on his chest, while he was rocking you carefully. But soon the tears were over. And when you both were ready to get up from the floor, he made you drink that already cold coffee and eat a bagel. And you were smiling to each other, like nothing happened and you weren’t about to spend god only knows how long at the police station, and he even tried to joke, much more successfully this time. And you were praying for it to be your second chance. And promising to all the gods you won’t screw it up this time.

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