#lucky shots

[magicalgirlartist]

[ID: 2 page comic featuring Setback and Expatriette from Sentinels of the multiverse in a dark-ish warehouse with metal walls and floor. Both pages have 6 panels. 1: Expat holds her hands out in front of herself towards Setback placatingly, looking upset. Setback leans away from her, shouting, fists raised. E: "Setback, listen-" S: "No! Back off, Fleshchild!" 2: Expat's right hand reaching forward, seen from the wrist up and in profile, shaking slightly. E: "Pete, wait! Please, I-" 3: Expat from the front, knees up, burying her face in her hands. The background is messy black marker scribbles with white around her, and her word balloon is wobbly with much smaller text. E: " I'm sorry." 4: Expat from the waist up, covering half her face with one hand and gesturing away from herself with the other, looking away with a pained expression. E: "I thought that you "toughening up" and being darker and broodier would make me happy. But it doesn't. It can't." 5: Setback from the hips up, facing mostly forward and turning slightly away from the viewer, one fist still raised but looking more wary than angry. E: "I like how you were - optimistic and silly and kind and - lovable." 6: Expat's left hand reaching around Setback's right hand. E: "It was selfish of me to try and make you change who you are. I'm sorry." 7: Expat and Setback from the waist up. Expat is leaning towards Setback, holding his raised hand, smiling awkwardly and holding her other hand to her chest. Setback is leaning slightly away from her, but looking her in the eyes with his mouth slightly open. E: "I love the original Pete best." 8: Setback from the chest up, facing left, looking at his and Expat's hands. 9: Closeup of Expat's hand holding Setback's, drawn from an angle indicating it's from Setback's POV. 10: Setback from the chest up, facing left, looking down and away with a frown. 11: Setback from the chest up, yanking his hand away from Expat and leaving her hand empty, looking away with a frown. S: "The real Amanda would never say that." 12: Expatriette facing forward from the chest up, still reaching out slightly, with her one eye open wide and an extremely hurt expression. The background is black with white cracks forming from behind her. End ID.]

I wanted to redraw this thing that I drew back in 2019 and make it a full, actual comic this time for practise on a bunch of stuff (shading, comic layout and pacing, etc). It's based on a scene from the Lego Movie 2, of all things. I love Lucky Shots so much you guys. Blorbo from my lore-rich card games.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Could I use your Vanessa art as my wallpaper?Specifically the one where she has rainbow hair dye in?

Sure go right ahead! We all love dyed hair Vanessa

[pippenpaddlopsicopolisthethird]

Juri is finally finished! I got some really pretty pictures at the con and I feel like this is a cosplay where I'll end up with a lot more.

Photos were taken by @spontaneousmusicalnumber and edited by me!

[sleights-of-hand]

Study of the Lucky 38 Cocktail Lounge.

[kth1fics]

Lucky, Lucky Girl (M) | JJK

Lucky, Lucky Girl

⟶ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: Roommates AU, Smut, 18+ ⟶ WC: 6.1k+ ⟶ Warnings: pwp, implied drunken state, alcohol, implied situationship, neck kisses, oral (m), making-out, choking, clit pinched once, fingering (f), finger sucking (f & m), palming (m), brief unprotected sex, etc ⟶ Beta: @jeonjcngkook​ // thank you so much for dealing with my massive short time frames :( i love you, sav ⟶ Summary: The joy of Jungkook having a grand ol’ time with his own personal karaoke night causes you, his roommate, to grow more and more annoyed. ⟶ Author’s Note: Mmm, yeah. Jungkook’s back to back Weverse lives – how ‘bout that? ⟶ Song Recommendation: Unholy ft Kim Petras by Sam Smith

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi

“Dirty, dirty boy!”

“Not again…” you sigh. Blinking stunned as your head rests against the fluff of your pillow.

“You know everyone is talking on the scene!”

You try not to listen intently. But with the dead of the night, where no sounds are supposed to be made, you cannot help but hear every single breathy note your roommate sings. Voice amplified with the help of an expensive karaoke microphone, synced with the slight off-tune beats that play on the device in the living room.

“I hear them whispering ‘bout the places that you’ve been!”

Your brows furrow with remorse as your hands come to clamp over your ears. Why had you thought many moons ago that buying him this damn machine would be such a lovely gift? You thought he could never do such a thing like this. Singing hours on end into the middle of the night, by himself, was never a thought that crossed your mind when you purchased your roommate a wireless karaoke machine for his birthday.

Tonight is the first time you truly regret your choice of gift giving.

“And how you don’t know how to keep your business clean!”

“Jungkook!” You shout out in agony. Hoping the man hears you through the walls of your shared apartment complex. Belching out a stern yell should surely remind him of your earlier request. “I told you two hours ago to keep it down!”

To your own judgment, you realize that Jungkook either must have not heard you or chooses to ignore you as his voice continues to sing the pop-ish, R&B song Unholy.

“Mummy don’t know –”

“Jungkook, I swear to God!” 

You stand up from your bed, tossing your blankets and pillows elsewhere as you stomp toward your closed door with haste. The twist of the knob is loud as your anger seeps into your actions, the swing of your door is just as abrupt. Your feet take you directly to the living room, padding down the hallway until blinking lights from the television shine in your eyes. Empty beer cans decorate the coffee table, some even knocked over and most definitely leaving stains on the wooden top. A bowl of snacks rests nearly untouched, but the ceramic maroon plate does have leftover crumbs of a breaded food.

Jungkook is found lounging back into the couch, microphone dangling above his head as he sings into it. Black luscious and fluffy locks, that barely touch shoulder length, fall beautifully with the way his head tilts onto the back of the couch. Dark clothes suit him best, probably because you’ve hardly ever seen him wear any other shade. You can tell just by the choice of shirt and long pants that he’s done nothing but wear the most comfortable attire for his karaoke night.

His eyes must be tired considering he wears his glasses, but underneath you can see how his eyes remain close as he gushes the lyrics like it’s his job. Knowing them word for word and with the perfect tone and tune.

“Two hours!” You yell, making your position in the living room more noticeable. You stand between the television and him, anger fuming within you. Steam could fly out your ears if that were possible. “Two damn hours and you’re still singing!”

You’re matched with a puzzled look when Jungkook finally opens his eyes. He peers down between the glass of his eyewear, trying to understand if you’re really in front of him or if he’s imagining it. The song continues to play as Jungkook lacks reciting the rest of the lyrics, you’re not sure if you could handle hearing him sing it for a third time this evening.

“What?” His lips pout as his nose scrunches and you wish to wipe the undeniable cuteness from it. He knows he can get away with such a gesture. “What happened?”

“I asked you two hours ago,” you sigh, stress pouring off of your face. He’s taken your sleep and little bit of patience left of your day. You can physically feel yourself building up to explode completely. “Please, stop it. Or at least do something else. Less noisy, preferably.” 

Jungkook does nothing but smirk. The microphone falls from his hand to the cushion of the couch as he leans up in a better seating position, but chooses to bob his head to the beat of the song. Moving his arms just like how the dance goes in the music video. He mumbles the lyrics to himself as the song is finishing up, dragging his pointer finger down from his forehead to his lips as he purposely, and most definitely, taunts you with his absence of attention. Preferring to rock out to the rest of the song, on his own agenda as he turns a deaf ear to you once more. There’s no way he is completely obliterated right now, you’ve seen that side of him more than once – he’s a complete mess when it happens. But here, right now, you know Jungkook is drunkenly tilting on a tipsy seesaw. Well aware of his actions.

“Are you serious?”

He bellows a laugh, eyes crinkling in the corners with happiness as he feeds off of your agitated energy. “I’m bored. This is entertaining me,” he points to the television and microphone. “I’m quite good at it.”

“Jungkook, it’s been hours,” you drawl as you feel the emotions of your anger prick at your eyes. Your chest rises and falls with a heavy exhale, if only he could comprehend how fatigued you are. “You’re lucky we don’t have neighbors because the police would have been knocking on our front door by now.”

“Come and join me,” he insists as he reaches for a thick glass. It’s the one he keeps in the freezer; the mechanism inside the walls of the cup keeps the liquid it holds cold for longer. “I have a whole other pack in the fridge or there’s liquor in the cupboard if you prefer that instead.”

“No!” You scoff, “That’s not what I want. How are you so awake right now?”

Jungkook raises his beer with an expectant look to his face, raising an eyebrow for you to catch the hint. “Alcohol keeps me up longer,” he says with a gleaming smile. “How are you ‘so awake’?” He parrots your words before he takes a large sip of his chilled beer. Enjoying the taste that rolls across his tongue and down his throat.

“You!” you exhale with a growl. A warning if anything. The word comes off like acid, meant to burn and brand the man sitting in front of you.

It doesn’t phase him how you wish it could. Your roommate just sits there minding his own business as he grabs the remote to shuffle through the next list of songs. Seeking to add another reason that will make you even more mad.

“Rainism? Do I Wanna Know? How about some Bieber?”

Even with your body covering up a portion of the screen, he still manages to know the layout and how to direct the cursor around. You can hear the annoying dings of movement as he flicks through the options, the soft sounds escalating louder the more you concentrate and focus on them. Giving those noises more energy than they originate. Just like how one watches a clock tick it's seconds away and the clicking snaps closer to an unavoidable thunderous tone.

With all your vexation boiling, your irritation allows you to act impulsively. Your fingers find the on/off switch to the television immediately, clicking it off to a blank screen. Jungkook scrambles to find the correct remote device to turn it back on, but you’re quicker than that. Smarter than that. To stop any further attempts, you even go all the way to unplugging the devices from the outlet directly attached to the wall.

“Y/n!” Jungkook whines. He exaggerates further with a click of his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

“No!” You cut him off, “I have had enough.”

You stand your ground. This is a shared apartment after all but Jungkook should respect the decency of a good night's rest. Just because he didn’t have a day like you did doesn’t mean he forgets to consider how you may feel with his actions. Usually he’s very good, half the time he’s always out with friends or work. So an occurrence like this is far beyond rare. But you can’t excuse him for spending hours into the dead of night keeping it alive with loud music and his melodic voice.

Just as you feel like you’ve once, the taste of victory on the tip of your tongue, you immediately pull back when you see Jungkook stand from the couch. The gesture isn’t casual, it’s fast. Like lightning, he has jolted from his place and speeds toward you.

To catch you and trap you.

“Come here!” He shouts behind you with a giggle as he chases you back down the hall. You race toward your room, hoping to shut him out quickly. 

You’ve stirred the pot by cutting his fun short and you should know Jungkook sees your anger as cute. But there is no time for foolish playful antics. You desperately want to rest, knock out and sleep in.

“Go to bed!” You shout over your shoulder. When your eyes catch a glance of how close he’s gotten to you, the strike of panic screams throughout your entire body. Even a yelp escapes your throat involuntarily.

His hand grips on the back of your shirt just as he pulls you like a fish on a wire. It’s quick, but somehow Jungkook manages to yank you straight into his hard frame before he pins you against the hallway wall. Right next to your bedroom door.

“Ow!” You hurt from the way one of your elbows bangs against the drywall behind you. You push back on Jungkook’s hands, fighting his dominance as he attempts to hold your arms back. 

Unconsciously, Jungkook leans in with each word he speaks, smiling to himself as his teeth snag onto the lip ring adorning his right bottom lip. “I’m not sorry.” Something switches within him. Eyes now peering down at your parted lips, two desirable colored pieces of flesh, he blinks silently with no other words. Jungkook finds himself stuck staring at them, how they’re parted so pretty by the gasp that leaves your lips. 

You can feel the radiation of his heated gaze; a burning sensation that you cannot tell is fueled by rage or something else. The sudden fiery ambiance Jungkook’s body and demeanor gives off is enough to set a forest ablaze. Smothering, scorching. The intensity of his concentrated stare heats you up from within, a prickling spark that shouldn’t be tampered with. 

“J-Jungkook?” You blink, heartbeat running laps in your chest. Your mind runs rampage like gazelles in the wild. Expanding to new, dangerous horizons. “This is bad.” The hairs on the back of your neck stand tall as a shiver runs down the base of your spine.

“Why does bad sound so good?” His warm breath fans over your ear, forcing goosebumps to dance across your skin. Jungkook slides himself closer, confessing his body to feel something more as he slithers his arms around your back as he presses you against the wall. “Can you explain that?”

“Jungkook, you’re drunk.” You try to reason with him. Maybe he isn’t in his right state of mind. You recall the lingering beer cans in the living room, surely he’s been the only one drinking them. 

Or are you trying to reason with yourself?

You’re really trying to not take advantage of this situation – one you didn’t foresee yourself getting into. Because you honestly just wished for peace and quiet. This happens only once in a while. Something neither one of you are proud about. There’s been talks, endless rambling and a vicious cycle of repetitive excuses. It’s not wise to ‘fuck around and find out’ with a roommate who need to hold their own, pay for their own expenses and be responsible. If someone gets too comfortable… they could be caught slipping. Forgetting all of these rules and abusing the privilege of the other to take care of them. 

Neither one of you want that. The two of you are far too comfortable being sturdy with your own ‘singleness’. The idea of stripping that freedom from you makes you cringe.

But you cannot deny that ready feeling, random spark of desire, whenever Jungkook gives you that certain look. Perhaps it’s because you have tasted what he offers. How it still can creep up and remind you how delicious he is when you’re craving that flavor.

“I’m not drunk. I'm loose. There’s a difference.” Huffing a laugh, he tickles the shell of your ear with his breath. “If you want me to go to bed so badly, bring me to yours.” Jungkook’s nose nudges along the length of your neck, drinking in the faint smell of you. “I can’t promise I’ll stay quiet though.”

His hands are warm as you feel them press against your back, hugging you tight against him. You gulp as memories flash across your brain like an old film reel. Only the best moments blasting loud in your mind, reminding you of times before. How it felt. How he is with you.

Your hands balled into fists with your temptations playing in the front of your mind. All thoughts, rational or not, dissipate as you feel the slightest touch of Jungkook’s lips stoking the skin of your neck, skimming over the areas that make you swoon. You can’t blame the tiredness you once felt now diminish and grow with glimmers of excitement. Burning like a wick.

“We can’t do this again,” you remind him as your voice falters to a mouse-like whisper.

“So this will be the last time,” Jungkook grinds his pelvis into you, pulling you against him in the same motion. You feel it, the evidence of his cock hardened and ready to press into you. “We can fuck around one more time,” he kisses your neck with delicacy, “And we’ll never have to talk about it again.”

“Was this your plan all along?” You push your chest into him for emphasis. “Annoy me so you could do this?”

“Hasn’t it always been like this?” He chuckles with his deep voice seeping out. “I’m a lot to handle and you get fed up with it. In return I shut you up.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate with his next move, slotting his leg between yours as he pins you against the wall. He latches his mouth onto your neck as his hands roam your body, squeezing every muscle and curve he can reach. He releases one of your hands in favor of raising one of your legs around his waist, using the angle to pin you even more.

You move quickly with the freedom of your one limb, running your hand straight to the back of Jungkook’s black thick hair and gripping a fist full. “You’re so obnoxious,” you squeal as he retaliates with a bite to your neck. Teeth nipping harder than you expect, drawing soreness to the spot the moment he releases your skin.  

He leans his head back enough to look at your face, a smug grin dressing his face as his fringe hides his glasses that protect his eyes. Jungkook doesn’t look into your eyes, he’s already mapping out his plan of assault with his mouth as he leers at your lips again. He pulls your leg higher as he moves in, hungrily kissing you with deep passion and thirst. You pull him equally with the back of his neck, yanking him forward to battle his tongue with yours.

An audible growl rumbles through Jungkook’s chest. Euphoric exhilarations trickle all over your skin. Jungkook’s reckless need to touch every inch of you sets a subtle ache in your core, growing it each passing second. Kisses become rougher, more desperate, as you share air between another. His touch burns you in the most errotic way, but you’ll never admit that to his face.

Jungkook continues to pull your leg into him just so he can angle his pelvis into you, prodding his clothed covered cock between the junction of your thighs. Teasing a blissful promise to you, letting you know how he wants to dive right into your walls and stretch you open. Your hand rummages through his roots, your other still pinned against the wall with Jungkook’s.

“Bed,” he murmurs against your wet lips. 

He sucks on your tongue before letting his teeth scrap softly against it as he pulls back. His body with yours, you two fumble through your bedroom doorway and land straight onto your mattress. 

You’re not normally stripping off your clothes this fast, but with Jungkook it’s different. Everything is impulsive and needy. There are no thoughts, only consequences and actions. The darkness shrouds the two of you, giving you more courage to do things without thought. Whereas Jungkook has already got a bit of liquid courage yet he is very self-aware of what he’s doing right now. You pull Jungkook down with you, a new instinct – a drive – taking hold of you.

His knees dig into the bed as Jungkook lifts his shirt over and off his body after removing yours. Jungkook’s muscles flex over another in the motion of his arms pulling the material up, revealing more of his toned, tanned, and inked skin to your eyes. A sight you secretly miss seeing. His body is just as you remembered; well-defined pectorals, large bulking biceps, a rippling line of tight abdominal muscles that tighten over his stomach, even the deadly outline of a v-line dipping dangerously below the hem of his pants.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself from gawking at him. Eyes wide like saucers, trying to etch every single detail of his body so you can think of him later when you’re left with just a battery operated toy between your legs. Numberless lines of art, mainly black but some pretty colors too, decorate the entire expanse of his right arm. Shoulder all the way to the digits of his hand. His physique is well-kept, you know this man must take care of himself. Each edge, each angle of his compliments Jungkook perfectly. You couldn’t imagine him any different. 

Jungkook catches your eyes, implicitly feeding into his ego. He smirks that annoying, nearly cocky, smile that flashes his white teeth as his dark locks dangle in front of his face. He disposes his glasses to a nearby table, out of the way of any reckless behavior.

His eyes roam your figure, areas of skin he wants to touch and violate if you give him the chance.

“You’re right, you know.” You hear him mumble as his hands aimlessly glide across your front, running themselves over your chest before they cup each of your breasts. He experiments with the tender flesh of your tits, squeezing and releasing them with his control. “This is bad. It’s dangerous how much I think about fucking you. Then you let me do it,” he laughs. His tattooed arm raises as his hand runs through his hair, fingering the dark strands and curling a few behind his ear. 

He drags his other hand down his front, making sure you watch each tentative movement as he runs his fingers over his body in front of you. They tantalize you, spellbind you into watching every second as he descends down to his lower region. Cuffing his bulge over the loose dark material of his pants and applying pressure to relieve some tension. He grips the sides of his cock, outlining the length as he runs the length of his shaft.

Jungkook’s tongue swipes out to lick his lips before sucking the bottom one in, snagging that sexy lip ring in between his teeth as he softly jerks himself through his clothes. His eyes, hooded and laced with dangerous lust, stare down at yours. The most subtle, audible, groan escapes through his teeth and you swear you lost every last ounce of sanity you have left for the night. Your cunt clenches with eagerness as the sound, as whiny and beautiful it sounds coming from him, hits your core like a train on impact. What you would do for more of those sounds…

Jungkook repeats the process right in front of your very eyes, gradually fisting himself even more until he can’t handle it much more himself. 

“Holy shit –” you speak breathlessly. Unable to fathom the scene being played out. You lean up with a surge, a power within you of wanting to please this man. Hands gripping the sides of his dainty waist, right where his hip bones poke out, and you run your nails over them in your pursuit to free his cock. “Get naked too,” you command as you hook your fingers around his waistband. 

Your fervor is impressive, making you feel like you’re doing justice while you’re truly doing something unholy. You drag his pants down his thighs, watching the way his cock springs out with happiness. The shine over his dripping cockhead welcomes you, affirms to you how stressed it must be to be touched by you. Aching to be pleased. His girth always makes you coyly smile; he radiates such energy, of course he has a package to match it. 

Jungkook is solid, cock pulsing by your touch. Just palming him alone makes your core tighten, makes the dirty mind of yours wander further into the abyss of sultry. You can feel yourself leaking arousal on yourself.

“You gonna put those pretty lips around me?” You feel the way Jungkook’s fingers curl around your jaw to tilt your head toward him. His thumb runs across your lips, slowly slotting itself between them and pushing past your teeth. 

With pleading eyes, you blink and nod at him. You suck on his thumb to show him what he has to look forward to, what you’re about to give him. You’re ready to do whatever it takes to make this man moan.

Your fist grips Jungkook’s dick, cautiously squeezing him as you flick your wrist up and down. Moving your body, you level your head to his pelvis after his release of your jaw. You bend your back as sexy as you imagine it can look as you keep your ass hoisted high. Leaning in, you plant a sweet kiss to his swollen tip, tasting the first moments of his salty secretions. It’s the first indication of Jungkook losing his breath as you hear a shuttered exhale.

You need more.

Your tongue lavished over the slit of his cockhead, parting the small piece to lap up every piece of precum that dares to drip carelessly from him.

“Fuck,” you hear the narrow whisper from above. His nose blows out a puff of hot air.

You ease your head down, immersing yourself on his rock hard cock. Tasting the flavor of his skin on your tongue as you wet the entire length with your saliva. Your lips tighten around him as you dip your head, bopping it down and up teasingly, wanting to taste every desirable inch of his blessed cock. You swivel and twist your tongue underneath as you suck, hard. Taking initiative to stroke what you can’t fit comfortably… for now.

“Fuck, Y/n!” Jungkook groans with an open mouth. Jaw slacking as his hips softly roll with the pace you set. You feel his hand skirt around your head, pulling pieces of your hair so he can view the way your cheeks hollow around him. “Fuck, yes. Just like that,” he hums with a tender whine. “You do it so fuckin’ well.”

Jungkook continues to whisper praises as his hips beg to thrust harder. Words of motivation help carry you to continue bobbing your head along his shaft, wanting him in deeper. So far enough to take your breath completely away from you. Your muffle moans vibrate on his cock, you can feel it twitch from time to time. 

“Yeah, yeah…” 

And now you hear Jungkook’s voice transition from his normal tone to that melodic tune. The one where you can hear it laced in whenever he sings his heart out. The noise you hear nearly all night long, agonizing you that it isn’t you who got those noises out from him. Until now. Where you suck harder, dip deeper to let his cock slot into your throat and stuff your mouth.

You fight all urges to gag, using every fiber in you to accept his length further past your comfort point. Pressing your nose against the soft plush of his public hairs as you melt into his pelvis, cock sliding as far as it can go into your esophagus.

Jungkook whines with satisfaction. Seeing how cock-hungry you are for him while this overwhelming pleasure sparks every heated nerve ending in his body. “You feel so fucking good,” his breath sounds labored. His fingers find a hold on the back of your head, clutching your hair tightly as he loses composure for a moment to thrust his hips into you.

“Mmf!” You resound a noise that only sounds dirty to him. Bear resemblance to a well pleased cockslut who wants nothing else but his dick. So he repeats the process again, and again… and again. Just to pull out those tasty groans as your nose is crammed against him and mouth prying wider to eat his cock.

Your eyes water at the onslaught, threatening to break past the brims of your eyes. Throat becomes coarse, abused with the intrusion that continues to batter your mouth. It’s relentless, but both you and Jungkook are hooked on the feelings you’re receiving from such an act. A single string of saliva connects your mouth to his throbbing cock when he abruptly pulls you from him, twisting your head to see how fucked-out your face looks.

It’s when you’re able to look up at him as well, seeing the way his brows furrowed as he pays close attention to you. Cheeks moving with the huffs of air he releases from his mouth. Beautiful large brown eyes taken over by his blown out pupils. The hair that hangs off his head makes you want to pull, rake your nails through and comb them. Fist it and twist it.

“Flip over,” he requests while already pulling you with him. His hands manhandle you respectfully, letting your body to turn around and rest on all fours. “So wet already,” he comments as his palms spread open your asschecks, giving him the view of everything from between your cheeks to your gorgeous pussy lips. The sheen of your arousal already slips past your vulva and dresses your inner thighs. “So pretty,” Jungkook collects some with two of his fingers, rolling the slippery mess between his digits before letting the tip of his tongue taste it. “So tasty.”

You edge your ass closer to him as he ghosts his fingers between your thighs. Slide them along the expanse of them before touching your soaked lips.

“Want you to fuck me,” you bend forward, placing your head against the mattress as your arms stretch above you to anchor yourself in place. “I warmed you up good enough. I want you to put that cock in me,” you wiggle your ass in his view. “I’m ready for you, Jungkook. Don’t you see that?” 

He breathlessly laughs, astonished how easy it is for you to be so confident. So prepared to have Jungkook do what he wants. He glides his index finger though your folds, spreading your slickness across all surfaces before hovering over your entrance. Sliding that same finger in, he instantly curls it up against the ridge wall that hides your sensitive spot.

A mewl rips from your throat but you bury your mouth into your blankets below you. You feel the way your pussy eats up Jungkook’s finger, you can’t imagine how it’ll be when he sticks his cock in. Your body wants to lean back more, feel how deep his finger could go if he allows it. But Jungkook denies you that pleasure by pulling away.

“God, I want to fuck you so bad right now. I don’t care to tease right now.”

Static courses though the atmosphere. Your bedroom which serves as a resting comfort place now feels like inside an oven, heated and blazing with lustful passion. 

This is exactly what Jungkook wants. Did he expect his plan to work completely? Absolutely not. Countless times he purposely does things just to get a reaction out of you, to see if you give him that energy. Just to mess with you. 

Does that always lead to this? No. 

Has it happened before though? Yes.

Jungkook maneuvers himself enough to skim his dick along the folds of your sopping pussy. Slowly dipping his tip into the gates of your entrance, easing it in little by little. You feel your legs widen further as he stretches you, until you’re biting back your words. Jungkook hardly submerges his cockhead before you jump up, twisting away from him with a frantic hand out.

“Whoah, wait!” You don’t notice the way your fingers shake with adrenaline as you stare at Jungkook in shock. “We need a condom!”

You could kick yourself for being so stupid, drunk on a lust haze and barely forgetting the fact you always stay protected. Never wanting an accident to happen with anyone who comes between your legs. Even Jungkook.

You’re stunned momentarily as you drink in the sight of Jungkook kneeling behind you. His hand holding the base of his cock as he holds it angled for your pussy while the other grips your hip. His abdomen tightening from the anticipation while his biceps flex as he holds back his body. Lazily, his eyes meet yours after staring down at your ass in a trance for far too long. A pout follows his frown until he catches how deep in thought he's in. Not realizing how hot and heavy the two of you acted.

“Shit, yeah. Do you have one here?”

You nod, reaching for a box under your bed quickly to pull out a small box of condoms. Jungkook happily takes one from your hand, tearing into the foil quickly and applying the rubber over his cock. He pinches the tip after slinking the condom down his shaft, pulling the elastic slightly to make it more comfortable for his member.

He glances at you, flashing you a bright smile that’s hidden with mischief. He grabs hold of your hips again and pulls you back to him, forcing you back down in an arch once again and prepares himself behind you.

“The condom just makes me fuck you harder,” he alerts as he’s pressing into you. His cockhead slips through your lips and begins dragging against your walls. A throaty groan erupts from your throat, entangled by pure blissful pleasure as Jungkook spears you open. “Makes me last longer.”

“Good,” you bark back with a smile only you can tell you wear. Your face shoves itself into your blankets as you feel Jungkook fill you up, rocking into you as you buck your hips back. His girth stretches you out in the most rewarding ways possible, making that slight stinging pain feel glorious and well deserving. “Fuck me hard then.”

Jungkook’s head swims with all the carnal desire built up. Once his other hand grips the other side of your hips you are done for. His grip is tight, desperate to keep hold of you as you squirm with his new pace. He thrusts into you, reeling you back into him with each swift movement of his hips. Sinking his cock as deep into your pussy as possible, drawing out those delicious squelching noises.

His strides speed up as the sounds of skin slapping skin gets louder. It twists your insides in a good way. Gaining a praising squeal from you as a burning coil in your abdomen tightens dangerously. Jungkook ravages his advantage on you, mounting you from behind and having ultimate control of your body. His cock slips out from the warm wetness of your cunt only to fill it aggressively back up.

Your nails pull at the blankets under you as your teeth bite into your bottom lip, breaking the plush skin. 

“Ah! Yes!” You moan, pussy throbbing with excitement as Jungkook pushes you closer to a release. “Fuck – Harder!”

You beg him to rail you more. Want to feel the way he pushes you over the edge. Jungkook’s chest heaves with labor, his voice turns more whiney and groany.

Calloused and tattooed fingers snake their way up your back to your neck, slipping them around the front and hoisting you up. Jungkook drags you against him, forcing your body upright as his hips continue to slap into your backside. The angle creates new bliss, prodding harshly against a sensitive area of your walls. Steadily, Jungkook hardens his grip around your neck. Applying pressure to limit your breath.

“Aren’t you lucky?” Jungkook embeds his head in the crook of your neck, mouth sucking sharply on your skin. He lets out vocal grunts as he continues to slam into you while his other hand seeks your front. Slipping down between your thighs to toy and rub circles against your engorged clit. “Getting fucked so hard, you’ll have no problem sleeping after this.”

Your moan rings through Jungkook’s ears as your cunt spasms and convulses around his spearing cock. His new position sends you into a frenzy. Orgasm after orgasm hits you, exploding within your heated body as Jungkook’s fingers and cock ruthlessly abuse your pussy. You cry with joy, a shaky breath whispering his name like a mantra as you gasp for air.

Jungkook continues to roll his hips into you from behind, pushing you past the point of your initial release and sending you into overdrive. He pinches your clit to hear you shriek, charging his ego and exciting his senses. He’s cruel, really, to latch his teeth onto your neck as grunted breaths escape his nose as he forces himself in you. But it’s so undeniably hot as he does it.

It pushes Jungkook toward his release, cracking down his walls and busting open the floodgates as he shoots warm, white cum into the tip of his condom. Cock nudged all the way in your pussy walls as he stills, groaning with words of how good you feel around him. Your panting bodies freeze together; still kneeling and heaving like you’ve run a marathon.

Your pussy convulses as aftershocks of your orgasm vibrates around Jungkook’s lodged cock, flexing and unflexing until he slowly pulls out of you. You miss it, the feeling of him filling your walls. Now they’re left bare, empty with nothing touching them.

You want to rest your body against his, but you know you can’t. It’s not a good decision to do more damage than what has already been caused. Maybe it’s the tenderness of your beating heart that still swarms with warmth after intimacy. Although you must always shake those feelings especially when it comes to your roommate. Who has nothing to do with you on a relationship level. And only once in a while the two of you slip up and fuck your frustrations out.

Jungkook moves first which surprises you. His lean figure has no problem pushing you back down to the bed after removing both his hands from you. He flops beside you and focuses on pulling off the condom from his softening cock without spilling its contents. He ties a knot at the opening before dropping it to the floor, not caring where exactly it lands.

The bed feels plush and heavenly against your face. The cool of your blankets chill you off yet welcome you with open arms. You stare at Jungkook as your heartbeat fails to relax. Portions of his bangs stick to his forehead from the sheen of sweat that decorates it. He breathes in the cool air with his eyes closed, catching his breath as he levels his body.

“We can’t do this again,” you remind him. Slumber knocks at your front door, reminding you how tired you are. “It’ll cause problems.”

“It’s already a problem,” he groans. He doesn’t bother looking at the scowl on your face. He knows it’s there. “It’s an addictive problem.”

Aimlessly, Jungkook reaches for a portion of the blanket from under him. He brings it over him enough to tuck himself comfortably in your bed. You even fight over it with him, telling him to go to his own bed if he’s tired. Though, he doesn’t listen. He’s selective once again. Knowing that he can get away with getting under your skin. Enjoying the way you get agitated how all he needs to do is wrap his arm around your body, filling you with his warm embrace – and you cave in. 

Moodboard credit: @kth1​

© 2023 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

[anch-vaviel]

[emblazons]

"She’s in pain. She needs this."

STRANGER THINGS SANS VISAGES S02E07 - The Lost Sister

[deedala]

Colorwheel Timestamp Roulette ⇆ 07x12: Requiem for a Slut ↳Gold + 12 for @sickness-health-all-that-shit

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Happy-Go-Lucky (Tetsuya Nakashima, 1997)

[magicalgirlartist]

I'm right.

[commission info]

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN]

[1.6k] or, in which james potter experiences the joys of muggle weed for the first time in his life.

.

It was two in the morning when you heard the boys stumbling into the Potter Manor.

The click of the door and creaky hinges, the hushed whispers and lost giggles, the scuffling shoes and the heavy footsteps. They were not subtle in any sense, and you couldn’t help but let the sentiment warm your heart. They were stupid but they were your boys, and you adored that even years later they were as childish and uncaring about the world as they were in their first years at Hogwarts.

It wasn’t unusual for you all to spend the last few weeks of summer at Potter Manor. The family adored you like you were their own, and something about spending long summer days laid out in the woods just beyond the manor, spiked drinks and river swims just filling the days before you returned to school beat any other vacation.

You had spent most of the day huddled away in the Potter library, cups of tea and a cosy blanket settled on your lap. The boys had decided to take a day out in London, leaving early in the morning kissing Euphemia on cheek and promising they would return at a reasonable time.

Which they clearly didn’t keep.

You made it to the doorway, slipping the door open enough to peak your head out as they made it to the top of the stairs—and the sight wasn’t one you expected.

Sirius and Remus flanking either side of your very giggly and very clumsy boyfriend, both boys a little dazed themselves but far less gone than James.

“Merlin,” you murmured as you pushed the door open further, stepping out into the hallway as all three boys lifted their heads up at your voice.

“BABY!”

“Oh fucking hell—”

“Prongs!”

Your brows raised in amusement as you watched your boyfriend try to wiggle out his friends’ arms, his gaze set on you and nothing else on his mind except getting towards you.

“What did you give—oh, hello!”

You barely had a moment to even process the huge boy running towards you before his arms were around you, hoisting you a few inches of the ground as he held you to his chest.

“We, uh, may have…possibly…maybe…” Sirius began, a sheepish smile on his lips as he glanced a bit warily towards his friend.

“Sirius gave him weed,” Remus piped in.

Sirius spluttered.

“And he may have had a drink or two.”

“Moony, what the fuck!”

“He’s very gone,” Remus added, a sly smirk on his lips that told you he wasn’t as wasted as the other two. And it also told you he enjoyed winding up Sirius a lot more than people assumed.

“He wouldn’t shut up about you either,” Sirius grumbled as he pressed his fingers to his temples. “I love you but—”

“Hey, hey,” James’ head popped up from your shoulder, eyes narrowing behind his glasses as he stared at his friend. “Only I can say that.”

Sirius raised his hands in mock defence but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Guess there’s no chance I can get a smooch then?” he teased, hooded eyes making a point of glancing over at you.

“No,” James muttered with a pout.

“Piss off, Pads, stop messing with him,” Remus scolded lightly, even if he was thoroughly amused himself by the way James clung onto you. “It’ll be better in the morning when he remembers it.”

Sirius’ grin widened. “You’re absolutely right, Moony.”

“You both are trouble,” you said as your hands fisted the material of your boyfriend’s sweater, keeping a hold on him in fear that if you let go he would just run off. Drunk James was notorious for being a runner, you had no idea where stoned James stood in the spectrum.

“You love us,” Sirius sang.

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved him off but you didn’t deny it. You loved your boys, you loved each of them dearly. It just so happened you loved James in a way that was a little different to the way you loved Sirius and Remus.

Both boys quickly disappeared into their rooms, leaving you to guide a giggly James back towards his room in hopes of not waking up his parents who were just down the hall. It was surprisingly easy to get him to cooperate when you cracked the code—then again, he was James Potter. The boy would move a mountain just to kiss you, let alone be the centre of your attention.

“C’mere,” James whined as he tried to pull your body towards him, not even letting you step away from the bed he just settled on as you stood between his legs, his arms wrapped around your thighs and trapping you against him. “I missed you.”

“I saw you this morning, Jamie,” you teased, your hands settled on his broad shoulders as he rested his head against your stomach.

“Yeah but,” he let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “That was a long time ago.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled and he lifted his head, chin pressing into your stomach and his wild, unruly curls falling in front of his eyes. He let out a small hum as your hands worked through the curls, pushing his hair back until his bright eyes were staring back at you, a little red and dazed but still so pretty. “I don’t like being away from you.”

“That sounds unhealthy,” you remarked but the comment was light-hearted. James being affectionate and a little clingy was not something you were not used to. The boy practically lived and breathed every day to tell you how much he cared about you.

But this just felt a little different.

“‘S not,” James said with a small huff, his large hands squeezing the back of your thighs as though he was scared you would step away from him. “You’re my future. I don’t wanna be anywhere else but with you.”

And you didn’t know if it was your own cynical heart or maybe your unreasonably high standards, but there was never a time in your life where you expected a man to make you swoon. But in came James Potter with his pretty words and promises tied up in a bow and you couldn’t help yourself.

Your cheeks flushed and your skin heated as he flashed you a dopey smile with his words. Sometimes you weren’t sure he knew just how much he affected you, that those pretty promises made your heart beat wildly in your chest and remind you just what it’s like to fall in love with someone as adoring and devoted as James.

“You can’t just say stuff like that, Potter,” you cleared your throat, one hand raising to cup his cheek and your stomach flipped a little at the way he nuzzled himself into your touch. “Gonna give a girl high expectations.”

“I mean it,” he said and his arms tightened around you. He turned his head to the side and pressed a chaste kiss against the palm of your hand. “‘m gonna marry you one day, just you wait and see.”

Your cheeks were burning hotter than you could even imagine. “You not even gonna ask first?”

“I will,” James nodded with a dreamy sigh, his eyes drooping a little as the exhaustion started to settle deep into his bones and muscles. “Gonna get you the prettiest ring and ask you at the—”

“Alright there, pretty boy, time for bed,” you quickly interrupted, hands falling down to take a hold of his as you pulled your body away from him, despite his attempts to keep you close. “Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

You didn’t try and push your luck with the sleepy boy, deciding it was just best to get him into his pyjamas and hope for the best. You took his glasses off and gently placed them on his bedside table before making your way around the bed, to your side.

But a hand shot out to stop you.

“Where are you going?” His voice sounded so small, it made your heart clench a little. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby, just getting into bed,” you told him softly, thumb running over the back of his hand to reassure him.

“Then get in here,” he said and you could almost imagine the confused furrowed eyebrows on his face despite the lack of light in the room.

“James–”

But the boy was as stubborn and insistent as he was when he was sober, and clearly just as strong as he yanked you towards him. The action was unexpected and left you ungraciously falling on top of him with a thud. You tried to scramble away so you weren’t squishing him but his arms caging you in prevented you from doing so.

“James, let me go.”

“No.”

“At least let me get comfortable.”

“...fine.”

And with a little reshuffling and shared kisses, you laid on the bed with your boyfriend wrapped around you and his sleepy voice lulling you asleep as he spoke, his voice trailing off the closer he got to falling asleep himself.

Whispered hopes and dreams tickling the skin of your neck where his face was nuzzled close as he spoke about weddings and futures, dreams and desires. A future with James Potter was one you’d imagine would leave you happier than you had ever been.

A future with James Potter was everything you wanted and more, it was everything he had ever wished for.

And when the sun rose again and James was no longer spouting every thought that crossed his mind, he knew without a doubt he planned to spend the rest of his life with you, starting with a ring he wanted to put on your finger the second you walked out of Hogwarts with him by your side.

.

[namakes]

One extremely flattering angle of Big Man for you

[fala-alfredo-pasta]

Oh God. Another Komazumi idea came to me after seeing an alternate ship name on Instagram and your Komanami child pic. Mahiru gets sick and when they see Mikan or Hajime (channeling Dr. Izuru), everyone is stunned to learn she's pregnant. It's especially surprising to the couple since I kind of headcanon Nagito might have a low sperm count. Nagito's like "Huh, I guess it was a...Lucky Shot". Awkward pause for a few seconds. Then everyone glares (except Fuyuhiko busting a gut laughing).

Nagito making bad jokes just happens every other week honestly

[kenny-lol]

oprah shot

[ghosttotheparty]

also on ao3

(cw: tics, bullying)

Eddie started shivering in seventh grade.

Even when it was hot, even when he was sweating and desperately wanted a non-rattly fan or a better air conditioner. They weren't normal shivers. He wasn't cold. But his shoulders would jerk or shake, or he would tremble for a second, and he didn't know what else it could have been. Others didn't question it for a while, because it started in October. Everyone was shivering. But by March, it hadn't stopped, and he had to explain himself when people gave him questioning looks or asked if he was okay. (Back when people cared.)

'S just a shiver, I'm fine.

He wasn't fine. It got worse over time. He got used to it, to the weird feeling that took over his body for a few seconds, got used to telling people he was cold, joking that he must be low on vitamins or iron, joking that in the future, someone is walking over his grave. But other people didn't get used to it. They thought he was weird. That was fine with him. Wayne realised something was wrong before Eddie started the tenth grade, because he wasn't just shivering anymore. His whole body was jerking sharply, suddenly, his shoulders drawing up, fists clenching. Eddie didn't question it. Wayne did.

It wasn't normal. But nothing about Eddie was normal. Wayne took him to see a doctor. The doctor make him do things, walk in a line, hold his arms out and push the doctor's hands away as hard as he could, follow a flashlight with his eyes without moving his head. It was all weird. It kind of scared Eddie. The doctor kept writing things in a notebook, and Eddie couldn't tell if he was doing well or not. But Wayne was there, watching and listening intently.

The doctor said he had tics. It sounded funny to Eddie, but then it wasn't funny, because the doctor didn't give him anything for it. He just said there wasn't anything really wrong with him. His brain just worked a little differently. (Which Eddie was already used to hearing.) That his tics could get better or go away as he got older, or they could get worse.

They got worse.

By the end of that summer, his arms were moving, flying over his head suddenly, randomly, and his head was jerking back so sharply it hurt. Wayne was worried about him getting whiplash. Eddie was worried about going to school.

That year, he became the freak.

At first, he tried to explain it to people. The movements were involuntary, he couldn't control them. Wayne contacted all his teachers, who mostly got it, but still preferred to make him sit in the hallway so he didn't distract the class. But the other students thought he was possessed, faking it for attention, and everything in between. They'd throw things at him, and complain to the teachers that he was distracting even when he wasn't moving, just to get him out of the room. They would mimic him, make fun of him, and by September, he learned that the tics get worse when he's upset. He could hear them all snickering and giggling as he shoved his hands under his legs and tucked his chin to his chest or held his shirt over his face, as he held his limbs tense so they wouldn't move, so tense he was exhausted and sore all the time, and then he'd go home and cry because he couldn't control his own body.

He'd have to sit on the sofa so when his head threw itself back, it would hit the back of the sofa instead of the wall, and Wayne would just wait, watching with that fucking sadness in his eyes that made Eddie ache even more. When it finally stopped, sometimes after a few minutes, sometimes after an hour or two, he was so exhausted he'd fall asleep right there on the sofa. He couldn't do his homework. His grades dropped even more, but he managed to keep himself afloat. He did the best he could, doing his homework early in the morning before school or in detention. (Some of his teachers thought he was faking. Mr Peterson was in charge of detention, and he was nice. Considerate. Eddie counted him as one of his few blessings.)

His tics got worse.

In December of his junior year, he started making noises. Short screams, grunts, quiet vocalizations. It scared him. He didn't want to go back to school, but he did. The laughter around him got louder, and he was sent out to the hallways more. He started skipping classes. He knew he'd be forced to leave anyway. So he'd sit in the boys' room, on top of a lidded toiler, his feet up on the stall door, and he'd leave cigarette burns on the walls.

Not everyone was awful. Some kids were just curious about him, asked why he acted the way he did, and he did his best to calmly explain it all. I can't help it, actually. It's just my brain works different. That turned into Eddie's brain's fucked. It's broken. He's a fucking--

So he used it. Eddie the Freak. Attention-seeking, desperate for people to notice him. So he started making devil horns, yelling from tabletops, making himself The Freak so no one could use it against him.

No one, not even Wayne, saw him cry at night, because the attention he got was never the attention he wanted. Because he was tired. So fucking tired. His limbs were sore and his voice was rough, and his neck hurt, and he was sick of being laughed at. But that was all he got.

He kept counting his blessings. Mr Peterson, who never minded Eddie's noises or the way his fists would bang against the table loudly in the silent room, who scolded the other detention-goers when they tried to tease. The Hellfire guys, who got used to his tics fairly quickly, and knew when to pause whatever they were doing if Eddie couldn't hear them over a scream or was distracted by his own body. That nice girl, Chrissy Cunningham, who would slip notes from the classes he missed or skipped into his locker or backpack with sweet smiles. (If Eddie wasn't gay, he would have fallen in love with her.) The other few students that ignored him when his tics acted up, just glancing and moving on. Wayne, bless his soul, who would come to the school to confront Eddie's teachers and complain to the principal about Eddie being mistreated by the staff.

And, oddly enough, Steve Harrington.

Eddie never saw it coming. It was a particularly bad day. He was at his locker, trying to line his books up, but a tic threw his hands up, and some books fell from his locker to the floor. He watched helplessly as papers scattered across the floor, as most students stepped around them, ignoring them, as some jocks trampled over them, over Chrissy's neat handwriting, his fists clenched at his sides. When they passed, he kneeled, picking up the books, and when he looked up, Steve Harrington was kneeling too, gathering the crumpled papers and carefully straightening them out.

He gave them to Eddie with a smile, and Eddie thought he might be dying, in some weird, upside-down dimension where Steve Harrington smiles at Eddie Munson. Eddie took them hesitantly, said thank you, and then he hit him.

He was mortified, almost dropping the papers again, jumping back as his whole body flushed with heat, staring at Steve's shoulder where his hand had just landed heavily, and he burst with a Fuck, I'm so sorry, oh my god--

But Steve had just laughed. Amazingly, it was a kind laugh, with sparkling eyes, and soft cheeks, and he said It's okay.

And then he was gone. Down the hall, after his friends, and Eddie realised his hands were trembling.

Steve kept smiling at him. Even when his friends were making fun of Eddie's Satanic cult, and of the way he couldn't keep still, and of his sad, broken brain. Even when Eddie's brain made him flip Steve off across the cafeteria, Steve saw how Eddie pulled his hand down sharply, and Steve just... laughed. Eddie fell in love with his laugh. It was kind, and it made Eddie feel better, even when he wanted to cry.

Steve graduated the next year. But he didn't leave Eddie alone. Eddie couldn't stop thinking about him, and his kind laugh, and his pretty eyes, and then the sheep Eddie adopted told him all about how cool and brave Steve was, and Eddie fell harder without even seeing him.

The world went to shit. But Eddie got to see Steve again.

Steve was still kind, even though the world was ending, and even during serious discussions, plan-making, how-to-save-the-world conversations, Eddie's tics kept going. His body jerked and shivered, and his head threw back, and his fists hit his own chest and shoulders, and he had to sit down. And Eddie found out that there are more kind people than he thought. When his tics slowed, Nancy wordlessly got him an ice pack to hold to his chest, and when he flung it across the room, Robin caught it with a casual oops, and brought it back to him. No one questioned him, or stared, or laughed, even though he knew how annoying he was.

When he woke up in the hospital, he hurt so badly he couldn't move. He just cried. Steve sat by his bed and held onto his hand. He was crying too. When Eddie stopped crying, Steve carefully slid his rings, clean of blood, onto his fingers.

This one goes here, right?

Yeah.

On the second day, his brain didn't care that he hurt. As Steve was telling him about what was going on with the others (Max was staying with the Sinclairs, Dustin's leg was almost healed), Eddie's hand smacked him across the face sharply, the sting of his rings bringing tears to his eyes before he even processed what happened. Steve wordlessly crawled onto the bed, carefully pulled Eddie against himself, and set a pillow over Eddie's lap for when his fists started hitting his legs. He'd just murmured those words, the first words he'd said to Eddie years ago.

It's okay. It's okay.

And he waited until Eddie's body fell lax against him before he carefully found Eddie's hand, laced their fingers, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Eddie was released from the hospital a few weeks later. He stayed in the Wheelers' basement for a few days until Steve's parents left town, for good this time, and then he moved into the Harrington house.

He likes it there. Steve is still kind. Always. He lets Eddie lay his head in his lap when his body hurts or won't stop moving, and he drags his fingers through his hair or holds a joint to his lips for him, and he smiles. (Eddie would go through the end of the world all over again for that smile.) When Eddie's head hits the wall while they're in the waiting room of the hospital for a checkup, Steve just shifts to face him and holds a hand up to the back of his head so his hand hits the wall instead, saying quietly that Eddie isn't allowed to beat his record number of concussions. He drives Eddie to Wayne's even though Eddie doesn't tic when he drives except for a few facial or vocal ones.

When Eddie whistles one night, Steve just smiles at him and says Was that a tic or are you hitting on me? and Eddie freezes, his face burning. Which would you prefer, pretty boy?

Steve kisses him.

And then Steve starts holding his hand even when he isn't having tics, even when they're with the Party. Eddie moves into Steve's room. (They always slept better when they accidentally fell asleep on the sofa together anyway.) Steve holds him when his tics are bad, and Eddie holds him during his migraines, pressing kisses as softly as he can to his forehead and his temples. Steve takes his hand when it moves to hit Eddie's face or chest. Eddie stands steady and holds Steve's hand to himself when he gets dizzy. Steve keeps ready-made ice packs in the freezer to hold to Eddie's chest and legs when they bruise from his fists. Eddie keeps his handwriting as neat as possible when he writes notes in case Steve forgets anything. When they wake up at night, breathless and sweaty and crying, the other is there, arms open, lips waiting.

One night Eddie says very softly, You know, they used to say my brain was broken.

Steve just says, Mine too.