#this is why I shouldn’t post at 3am

[gaysindistress]

Prompt 2 🌶️ for a Bucky please? 🥺

Tell me why I instantly thought about this scene:

warnings - smut. cursing.

I almost gave you a full ass fic but I had to stop myself to finish Van Helsing Retold.

600 celebration post here

I know better than this. 

I know better than to provoke him when he’s already in a bad mood thanks to Tony. 

I know better than to tease him when he’s on a mission especially since he’s cranky and on said mission with Tony. 

I most certainly know better than locking the front door and putting my phone on do not disturb after sending him nudes but I can’t help myself and he brought it on himself to be completely fair. 

Tony decided that 3am two nights ago was the perfect time to call him and tell him that he needed to be back at the tower in 15 minutes because they were going on a mission. At that exact moment however, Bucky just so happened to have me face down ass up on our bed and was railing me like an animal untamed by man. He tried to at least make me cum but Tony wouldn’t stop calling and I was getting afraid that he would bust through if Bucky didn’t leave immediately. 

So here we are now, 48 hours and several failed attempts at getting myself off later, I decided that sending my sweet super soldier nudes while he was on a mission and with others would be the best idea. After sending them, I turned my do not disturb on and locked the front door as a little extra teasing but what I didn’t anticipate happening was the scene before me. 

The bedroom window slides open and Bucky slips in without a sound. He’s still in the suit he wears on missions and if I didn’t see the flash of his left hand in the moonlight, I would’ve called for help. Instead, I smirk as I scoot up the bed to sit with my bed against the wall and push my blanket off, leaving my legs bare. He’s still standing where he landed but his eyes are trailing hungrily up them and narrow when they land on my curled lips. For half a second, the fear that it’s the Winter Solider starts to creep in instead but then Bucky speaks, “You sent me nudes while I was on a mission.”

“You were not. It was over and you were on your way home,” I throw back as my legs fall apart so he can see my black thong. 

A growl rips from him, “Fine. You sent me nudes when I was with Sam, Steve, and Stark.”

He pounces on the bed and grips my ankle, pulling me down the bed. I let out a giggle as he traps me between his body and the bed. My body feels light having him back after he had to leave so quickly and although I know I shouldn’t provoke him even more, I can’t help the way that my legs wrap around his waist. 

“You’re a menace,” he grunts against my lips before devouring them. 

I know better than to tease him but I can’t stop when it ends like this. 

[cursed-man-prayers]

Before folklore came out, I would tell people that liking Taylor Swift was the straightest thing about me. Then folklore, evermore, and Red TV came out. As I saw the queer themes in those albums, I began seeing them in reputation, 1989, Speak Now, Fearless, and debut. The themes have always been there, fluctuating in subtlety but steadily increasing since 1989. So why did I think of Taylor Swift as so quintessentially straight? You guessed it: Compulsory heterosexuality and heteronormativity.

Taylor was supposed to be universally relatable. When she explained her songs, she refrained from using gender-specific language. Us. We. That person. Someone. And people that as “Me. I. A man. That guy I told everyone I was dating.” We were told she dated men, and a woman dating a man = heterosexual. No other options.

Even now, Genius will remove lyric annotations that imply her lyrics might not be about a man. Even with Hits Different, Question…? and Maroon. Taylor says reputation is about Joe and swifties believe her bc “Taylor wouldn’t lie to us!!!” even though there’s so many inconsistencies with the narrative that Rep is about Joe.

To say outright or even imply that Taylor might write songs about women because she likes women is met with scores of comments about how we “shouldn’t speculate on her sexuality!!! she said she’s straight!!! stop being disrespectful!!!!” But Taylor, as she has never said the words “I’m gay” has never said the words “I’m straight.” What she has done is align herself with. LGBTQ artists (YNTCD music video, Phoebe feat., posting support for queer musicians on social media, and, of course, the Pride parade that is her list of openers for the Eras Tour).

If Taylor didn’t people thinking she’s queer, she would’ve thrown in “as a straight woman…” in her speech before performing Delicate at multiple Pride events, when being interviewed about her advocacy during the Lover era, or at literally any point in her adult life.

Writing about women from the male perspective is queer. Her dressing in drag for the Man music video and showing herself in bed with a woman is inherently queer. The way she writes songs about her love interests’ girlfriends is queer. People bend over backwards to justify the gay shit she does, the same thing people have done for centuries with Sappho, Emily Dickinson, Louisa May Alcott, and so many sapphic artists throughout history. Taylor Swift is THE songwriter of our generation. She IS the music industry. But swifties, and hetlors all the more, would rather believe she is stupid and ignorant rather than intentionally using phrases like “hairpin drop,” “lavender haze,” “all the bricks they threw at me,” “you’re the West Village.” When she describes her muses as having scarlet lips, having hair that falls into place like dominos and braids in a pattern, gorgeous, it’s just because she thinks men are really pretty I guess (insert MetGala 2016 Joe photo). When she describes men as toys, playthings, “dudes who give nothing,” she’s being satirical. When she says “weird rumors,” that can’t possibly refer to rumors about marriage, pregnancy, or her having had multiple children during the pandemic. It’s *weird* to say that Taylor is queer. It’s weird and bad and gross. Why? Because people saying this believe being queer is weird, bad, and gross.

But it’s not weird. Being queer is beautiful, a gift. And that gift comes with a world that hates who we are. Of course Taylor is too soft for all it. And I admire her softness, that she continues to write vulnerable music. Midnights (esp 3am Edition and Hits Different) holds her loudest lyrics. She’s never beating the rumors and she doesn’t want to. Even if she never says the words “I’m gay/bi/pan/a lesbian,” the eardrum-shattering volume of her lyrics is more than enough for me.

[cat-soda]

going gentle

Somewhere in the depths of her mother’s hard drive, there’s an old home video of Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi as kids. In it, little 4-year-old Qiao Ling makes Cheng Xiaoshi lay down beside her on the carpeted floor, then proceeds to pat his head and warble out a child’s rendition of her favorite lullaby. They’re adults now, but Cheng Xiaoshi still closes his eyes as Qiao Ling runs her fingers through his hair and murmurs her favorite lullaby, entrusting her with his dreams.

or, Qiao Ling wishes her brother would let her take care of him.

for @dlandofdreams

Pairings: n/a

Word count: 1368

Warnings for: post season 2 spoilers, hurt/comfort

[AO3 Link]

The phone rings at 3am, and Qiao Ling almost doesn’t hear it over the sound of rainstorms and thunder outside her window. It takes massive strength of will to pull her hand out from under her blanket and reach around for her phone, and then she only barely manages to crack her eyes open wide enough to see Cheng Xiaoshi’s name lit up on the screen. 

She almost considers turning over and ignoring him, but the next clap of thunder makes her sigh. She greets him with, “Why aren’t you asleep yet, Xiaoshi?”

Cheng Xiaoshi doesn’t answer her for a long moment — long enough that Qiao Ling sits up in bed, letting her blanket fall from her shoulders as she holds her phone closer to her ear.

“Cheng Xiaoshi?” she asks, urgently.

“...sorry, Ling-jie,” Cheng Xiaoshi says, finally, in a thick kind-of voice. She picks up the sound of sheets rustling as Cheng Xiaoshi clears his throat. “Never mind.”

He hangs up.

Qiao Ling gives her phone an offended look and calls him back immediately, picking at a persistent hangnail as she impatiently waits for him to pick up. “Don’t you ‘never mind’ me,” she says, as soon as the line connects. “What is it?”

His tone was weary. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have called.” Qiao Ling raises an eyebrow even though she knows he can’t see her, pinching her lips together and waiting for him to elaborate. “It’s just… with the storm, and Lu Guang isn’t gonna be back until later this week… I’m not used to sleeping alone anymore.” He admits the last bit in a bit of a tense, wobbly voice, sounding remarkably like the young boy who used to have to be picked up by Qiao Ling’s parents after being sent to the principal’s office. Defensive. (Vulnerable. Claws raised to protect all his soft insides)

(...when had Qiao Ling become a person Cheng Xiaoshi had to hide from when he was feeling vulnerable?)

Qiao Ling nods, standing up. “Okay. Gimme a second to find my coat.”

“What?”

“I’m coming over.”

“Whoa, rent’s not due yet, is it?”

“Don’t be a jackass.” Shrugging on her raincoat and patting her pockets for her keys, she adds, “Just make sure to unlock the door for me.”

“You really don’t have to come over. Qiao Ling, wait, seriously, I’ll eat the key if I have to!”

Qiao Ling stops, rolls her eyes, then rummages through her drawer for her spare key to Cheng Xiaoshi’s studio. “You’re dumb as fuck.”

“You’re the one stepping outside in a thunderstorm,” she hears him mutter.

“You don’t even live a full minute away.”

He scoffs, but when Qiao Ling gets to his studio, she doesn’t even get the chance to take out her spare key before the door’s being pulled open, a jolly jingle coming from the bell hanging above it.

Cheng Xiaoshi frowns down at her. “Crazy.”

She pokes him in the chest, hard. “Dumbass.” Pushing past him, she sets about in the kitchen making tea for the both of them, trying not to shoot glances over her shoulder at Cheng Xiaoshi following her every move while rubbing his eyes. 

He looks so haggard under the kitchen lights.

He hasn’t been sleeping well. Qiao Ling bites her lip, thoughts racing. Eyebags like that don’t show up overnight. How long has it been since he slept through the night? How long has this been going on? 

And, quietly, why hadn’t I noticed sooner? After everything with Qian Jin and Li Tianchen and Li Tia… she had been so relieved. She had been so determined to keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep moving, and maybe that was why she had lost track of Cheng Xiaoshi. (Maybe that was when Cheng Xiaoshi started hiding from her. Maybe she’d made it too easy.)

Briskly, she shakes her head, warming milk in the microwave to pour liberally into Cheng Xiaoshi’s cup. It’s small, but he smiles at the milk and some unspoken memory, and her chest unclenches, just a tad. She breathes a little easier, now that he’s smiling.

“What’s so funny?”

He shakes his head at her, still smiling. She clicks her tongue but doesn’t push, instead simply handing him his cup. 

Qiao Ling idly checks her phone as she leeches off of the warmth emanating from her tea. It’s almost 4 now. She wonders where Lu Guang went. He always becomes weird and cagey towards the end of summer, but it was unlike him to disappear out of the blue like this. Cheng Xiaoshi would know, if she asked. “Do you think Lu Guang would mind if I slept on his bunk?” she asks instead.

Cheng Xiaoshi blinks out of his reverie. He’d been staring listlessly at his tea as he held it. “No, he wouldn’t mind.” He furrows his eyebrows as Qiao Ling finishes off her cup, places it in the sink, and goes straight for the closet where he keeps the spare bedding. “...are you really staying over?”

“Oh, all of a sudden, you don’t want me around. Is that it?”

Cheng Xiaoshi shakes his head. “No, I…” He looks away, squirming under her stare. “It’s just that you don’t have to. Seriously, it’s fine.”

“It’s literally nothing. Do you think it bothers me to do things like this for you?”

“...doesn’t it?”

She goes silent with disbelief. Then, she narrows her eyes at him. “It’s like you don’t understand how easy it is to love you.” Qiao Ling shakes her head and turns towards the stairs, blankets in hand. “Now, c’mon. I don’t really want to hang out down here all night.”

---

Cheng Xiaoshi usually snores and kicks his blankets off half-way during the night. On the worser ones, he mumbles in his sleep — inane things, sometimes, and sad ones. When they were younger, he used to grind his teeth together so badly that Qiao Ling’s parents had to get him a mouthguard. Cheng Xiaoshi has never been a quiet sleeper. 

Tonight, though, he’s so quiet that Qiao Ling can’t help but to hear it.

Qiao Ling peeks her head over the side of the railing. To his credit, Cheng Xiaoshi does have his eyes closed, but it was less like he was resting, and more like he was concentrating desperately on trying to sleep. He lays on his back, fingers tapping rhythmically against his chest, and pausing when she says, “You’re so tense.”

“Quiet in the peanut gallery,” he responds, turning over onto his side with a grunt. 

“No wonder you look so terrible,” she continues, ignoring the look he gives her. Qiao Ling climbs down from the top bunk to sit down beside him. “Come here, let me brush your hair.”

It was the only form of affection he accepted from her nowadays, ever since he shot past her in height, citing that he was too old and it was too embarrassing for her to hold him (even when she thought he needed it). (She thinks, too, that he probably misses it, even if he won’t say it out loud.) This is enough, though, to make Cheng Xiaoshi perk up, nodding his head slightly and scooting closer to her.

Carding her hand through his hair, Qiao Ling curls the inky strands between her fingers. “It’s gotten pretty long. Are you planning to cut it soon?” asks Qiao Ling quietly, after a moment.

Cheng Xiaoshi lets out a soft huff through his nose, eyes drooping. “Maybe,” he mumbles. “I might let it grow out.”

She replies with a hum, letting herself smile as Cheng Xiaoshi finally relaxes, breath evening. It reminds her: somewhere in the depths of her mother’s hard drive, there’s an old home video of Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi as kids. In it, little 4-year-old Qiao Ling makes Cheng Xiaoshi lay down beside her on the carpeted floor, then proceeds to pat his head and warble out a child’s rendition of her favorite lullaby. 

They’re adults now, but Cheng Xiaoshi still closes his eyes as Qiao Ling runs her fingers through his hair and murmurs her favorite lullaby, entrusting her with his dreams.

“Little swallow, dressed colorfully,

Comes here every spring…”

---

a/n: i won't repaste my entire author's note from ao3, but i do wanna reiterate two (2) points! firstly, the lullaby that qiao ling begins to sing is called little swallow/xiǎo yàn zi (tl: wang li) and secondly, the part about cheng xiaoshi wanting to be held is 100% inspired by this post by anulithots and i had to tell you guys bc i think about it every other day (screaming sobbing throwing up) okay byeeeee

thank you for reading!!!!!! 🫶

[sizzleissues]

Ladrien day 27 - Autograph

Read here on ao3

“You can have your signature, kitty-.” His ears perked up. “-If you catch me when you're civilian you.”

Or under the cut

Chat Noir was suspiciously quiet as they lazied atop the Eiffel Tower. Something had been bothering him since they met up but it wasn’t anything she could figure out from his lingering stares and solemn expression. Whatever it was she’d rather he’d spit it out then let it weigh on him like this.

“Go on, you want to say something.” 

She put the offer out there but didn’t expect an answer. It was much too hot and much too late to muster more than passing concern. She’d review this conversation in the morning when her anxious mind replayed every word to search for the rotten apple. 

“Would you-.” He cut himself off, sinking beside her.

“Yes?”

“Would you sign something for me?”

She waited expectantly for more, that can’t have been everything but no, it really was. Chat Noir stared at her with wide hopeful eyes and a rising excitement.

She probably shouldn’t have laughed. Forgive her, it was 3am, beyond past normal Marinette functioning hours. 

“Really? That’s it!”

“Uh-.”

“You made me worried there for a second.” She slapped his arm playfully, her laugh fading to a grin. 

“So will you?”

“Why? Autographs are for fans. You’re not a fan, you’re my partner. I think that’s better than a measly signature.”

“Civilian me is a fan though! Even my best friend who’s more of a Chat Noir fan has your signature, it’s getting embarrassing at this point.”

He was genuine then. Marinette chewed her lip, looking down at Paris as she tried to think. There wouldn’t be any harm to giving him a signature. If he promised never to show it to anyone or post it at risk of her recognising outside of costume- no, she couldn’t give it to him like this. She couldn’t know who she was signing it for.

“You can have your signature, kitty-.” His ears perked up. “-If you catch me when you're civilian you. I’ll stick around after the next few battles. Just don’t make it obvious.”

“Really? This is great. So great!”

Marinette nodded along, feeling a touch of concern as he spent the rest of the night even more distant. At least it was a happy kind? That was good, right?

—-<0>---

The next few battles had Marinette searching every crowd afterwards for someone vaguely Chat Noir shaped. She knew she shouldn’t, she didn’t want to know his identity but curiosity got the best of her. Chat Noir stayed tight-lipped on whether he’d gotten the autograph yet and she couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach that she’d missed him. 

She squashed those feelings down and eventually her eyes stayed strictly on the fan in front of her, not ahead looking for blond and green. The brief flirtation with the possibility of figuring out his identity had only been interesting because of the danger it brought. She’d confused those feelings for intrigue and not fear, a definitely easy mistake to make. That was all safely behind her now.

So when Chat Noir disappeared moments after fist bumping her she didn’t even notice. There was the akuma victim to comfort and the press to shake off and the fans to satiate. A missing stray didn’t even cross her ray-dar.

“Will I grow up to be as cool as you?” A little girl asked, her adorable cheeks squished up in a huge gap-toothed smile. She gripped a ladybug doll in her hands but her eyes were entirely captivated by the real thing. Marinette kneeled down so they were the same height and held a hand out to her.

The girl tentatively reached for it, her eyes like stars as she touched her palm. Marinette smiled warmly, clasping the girl’s hand in her’s.

“You’ll grow up to be even cooler. I don’t have half as beautiful a smile as you.”

After a hug and photo she toddled after her grateful mother. Marinette’s gaze shifted from the girl to the pair of legs now in the spot in front of her. She had to crane her head back to look up at him, the sun silhouetting his body. It created a hazy halo-like effect around his face where she could only see a brilliant smile. 

“Do I get to be as cool as you when I grow up?”

That voice. So familiar yet just slightly not right. Not enough that a face sprang to mind but just enough she knew something should be happening in her brain besides slight embarrassment of still being crouched down. 

“Well maybe if- Adrien!” She squeaked. 

Adrien blushed, which was strange, as she stared at him. How could she not notice him approaching? She’d been too busy with the girl- This was a disaster. 

“That’s me?”

“Ohmygod- Sorry! I just wasn’t expecting you. But why would I expect you? I’m Ladybug, I’m really cool.” The word vomit spewing out her mouth didn’t seem to be off-putting to him but still she nearly sunk back to the ground to hide her shame. Ladybug didn’t stutter. She was cool. She shot finger guns.

Why was she shooting finger guns at him right now?

“Sorry if I’m bothering you- I just wanted to ask for an autograph.” He averted his gaze, scratching the back of his neck absently, yet she couldn’t understand why. He was Adrien, he- he was a huge fan of Ladybug. With an insane Ladybug wall to rival her Adrien one. Ladybug, who was also Marinette. But he didn’t know that.

“You’re not bothering me!”

“Oh?”

“In fact, I want to ask you for your autograph. In exchange for mine.”

She smiled, holding out the pen she’d been using to him. Adrien stared at it like it was a live snake before taking it from her hand.

“What do you want me to sign?”

That was a slight flaw in her plan. She had a matter of moments before he realised it too. 

“Here.” She pointed to her cheek, turning her head to the side so he could get a better angle. 

She tried not to catch his eyes as he leaned forward. That level of intimacy would have sent her straight to A&E. If she wasn’t totally insane she got the distinct impression Adrien’s heart was beating as quickly as her’s. He made the signing quick, snapping back straight once the pen left her cheek. 

“Does it look good?” She asked as she faced him again. She already knew what it looked like, this was not her first Adrien autograph.

His gaze was unfocused and he buffered, if that was even possible for a human to do, before answering. 

“Y- yep! So good.” His voice uncharacteristically strained.

“Coolio. Now, where do you want me to sign?” She forced herself to smile brightly and try not to think about the fact she asked Adrien to write on her face and he didn’t bat an eye. 

“Not on my chest! I want you to sign somewhere normal. Like my face- I mean this picture.”

He held out the pen and a framed photo of herself from a couple months back that had gone viral on the Ladyblog. 

Their hands brushed for the slightest of moments as she reached to take the pen, something electric shooting through her body. Adrien squeaked like a trodden on mouse and jumped back, dropping the pen in the process. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry!”

Adrien ducked down at the same time she did, their heads knocking together. Tiny stars exploded in her vision, though she couldn’t tell if it was from bumping her head or the sheer embarrassment nearly causing her to pass out. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” Adrien said, his face stricken with worry. 

“No, I should be sorry. Is your forehead okay?”

“I’m fine and don’t apologise! I dropped it, I should pick it up.”

“No, but really-.”

“Don’t even.” He held a hand up to stop her and bent down to pick up the pen. 

Marinette giggled as she tried to take it again. This time she made sure their fingers didn’t even so much as brush off each other. 

“I’ll have to make this extra special.” She said,

“You don’t have to-.”

“I’m your biggest fan too, I can’t leave you with a subpar signature.”

“Oh.” His face flushed a shade to match the setting sun. 

She signed the photo, adding a heart at the end. Adrien beamed down at it once she’d finished. 

“Love, Ladybug?” He parroted back what she’d written.

“Reserved for very special people.” She winked, surprising even herself. Adrien cradled the photo close to his heart, hesitantly looking up to meet her eyes. 

She would do anything for him to look at her like this when she wasn’t in spots. 

Adrien didn’t move and she thought for a second he was about to say something important, something that had threatened to spill out of him since their first interaction. Instead he said this;

“I think this pen is permanent. Will it come off your cheek?”

Her eyes grew wide.

“Sure it will, plus it’ll probably disappear after I detransform.”

It didn’t. 

–—-<0>-----

“So did you ever get the autograph?”

It was in the middle of an akuma battle that she’d even remembered the deal she’d made. Chat Noir paused, his eyes flicking to her cheek for the briefest of moments. It was easily brushed off as an innocent glance and she hadn’t been looking anyway.

“I did.”

She smiled. Even though she had no idea who he’d been, the fact the entire deal had led to talking to Adrien made it worth it. 

“Was it worth it?”

Chat didn’t answer for a second, dodging a well aimed blast from the akuma. Within moments he was back at her side. 

“I’d do it again a thousand times.”

She laughed, zipping away from another blast. “Don’t actually, I might start to recognise you.”

“I have a feeling that you wouldn’t even be able to tell.”

[anemptypuddingcup]

I’m so sorry I didn’t get the second part of my Zoro series out last night.

I had to go to the ER bc my doctor couldn’t wait for me to get a blood transfusion the next day. On top of that they wanted me to go to my local ER (yes the one that left me in the waiting room for three hours last night). You can only imagine how that went for me last night.

I’m not okay after it, but I’m just happy to be out of there finally.

I went in at 11AM yesterday and came out at 3AM THIS MORNING. LIKE THE ER STAFF WERE SLOW, NOT EVEN DOING THEIR JOBS AND IGNORING PATIENTS WHEN THEY NEEDED ASSISTANCE.

Pudding ranting about her visit at the ER and the medical industry in general-⬇️ alongside an update about the fic-

I called for the nurse four times and she came the fourth time and lied about my blood not being delivered when the people were outside to drop it off and WAITED MORE HOURS TO FINALLY GIVE IT TO ME.

The doctors couldn’t wait for me to get this transfusion yet they were the ones who decided to do my labs before I left the clinic yesterday morning and then call me hours later saying that I HAD to go to the ER and get me a transfusion done.

If my blood pressure and shit was so low, why couldn’t they just do it while I was at the clinic since there was an ER RIGHT BESIDE IT instead of making me have to go to the shitty ER in my goddamn town where they don’t even care about their patients.

It really makes me wonder on if these damn doctors give a shit about the people their supposed to be caring for…I know Sickle Cell isn’t very well known like out there in the medical field and isn’t seen as emergencies…that’s what makes it so hard out there for sickle cell patients like me and others.

But in the end, I shouldn’t be complaining because they want me to feel and do better. It’s just that they also have to do better than what they’re doing with their time management and planning.

I should be grateful that they didn’t have to stick me plenty of times this visit like they usually did with me in my past transfusions. I remember when I was around fifteen and they had to stick me five times in each arm because my veins kept running away from them. (I didn’t get a transfusion done that day.)

So yeah,

On top of all that, while I was editing up the draft and getting ready to post it in the hospital, I ended up deleting it by accident…making me have to go back into my notes and makes the edits that I did in the draft that was deleted…

I’m almost done with it and Ima finish it since I’m done w this damn rant.

[longlivetv]

Because post concert high is real, here is a brief synopsis of my Eras experience:

Had a random 3pm meal at Dennys 9/10, would repeat

Approached stadium, not one parking attendant could tell us where ADA parking was. One lady told us to park where Taylor parks, which was clearly incorrect. The guy guarding her parking area directed us to an overpriced lot in which we ended up trapped after the show for an hour and a half. 2/10, would definitely advise against

Tried to meet up with @cages-boxes-hunters-foxes and @fitsinthepalm but could not due to much concourse traffic, and the fact my disabled friends had already had to cover much more ground then anticipated and could not wander around anymore. Cell service was shit, didn’t get most of the messages until k got home. Have bracelets for you, please DM for mailing. 13/10 for concept, 0/10 for execution.

Now things take a turn for the better. Found the correct escalator, and the nice lady working there informed us that the agent at the top of the stairs could probably re-seat us in ADA seating so that my friend Q who uses crutches did not have to climb to section 227 row 30 where our tickets were. We were, in fact, re-seated to section C25 row W5, which was on the club level, much easier for Q to access, and more side stage but also much closer. 15/10 for the stadium personnel who helped us once we were inside.

Had a blast during Gayle and Phoebe’s sets, got water and was able to pee in a womens bathroom at a Taylor Swift concert without waiting in line. 10/10

TAYLOR HOLY SHIT 1300/10

Q proposed to Z during Love Story, I cried, another lovely Swiftie on the other side of Q also filmed. The person next to me lost their mind and a cheer went up around us and it was beautiful. 💜/10

GREEN! DRESS! 10/10 for our fairy Princess

Nothing New *chefs kiss* no notes

Couldn’t tell exactly what was up during Bad Blood but were pleased to stan an artist that has her eye on the crowd and intervened even though she shouldn’t need to. 13/10 for Taylor, -10/10 for security

Solid Surprise Songs, Q and Z danced during This Love

Stuck around to scream for Taylor as she left 13/10 got some solid pics

Exit from stadium was closer than anticipated to parking, 8/10

Trapped in parking lot for an hour and a half no one moving. 1/10

Finally got home at 3am, it is now almost 4, I finally understand why Taylor can’t sleep after shows 🌟/10

[lostariel17]

The Mandalorian Season 3 - Post-Binge Opinions

So I just binged the last season of the Mandalorian and while I enjoyed it enough, I do have some opinions about it (because it’s Star Wars and I always have opinions about Star Wars) Since it’s 3am and there’s no way I’m gonna be able to sleep right now, you get them in no particular order.

1. Why do they never close and lock their ship when they leave it? This makes no damn sense and opens them up to the worst possible security issues...

2. Bo-Katan’s throne room is ridiculously big. Alright, it would be impressive if it was filled, but her just lounging there all alone made me want to throw therapist numbers at her.

3. Speaking of therapist, shouldn’t have Grogu have had those PTSD flashbacks earlier? Also, I don’t like them dropping bits so randomly like this. I suppose they’ll use them later in future season. But it felt quite “let’s drop that here since it doesn’t fit anywhere else” to me.

4. I also admit I was bored most of ep3. I just didn’t care about what happened to the doctor and I feel disappointed that the longest episode of the season was almost exclusively about two minor characters, one we don’t even see again later.

5. While Grogu being all toddler “no no no” with Mando was fun and cute, Greef Karga choosing to cannibalize IG-11′s corpse to give like that says a lot about how little thought they give to droids despite them being sentient. Me didn’t like that.

6. Speaking of Grogu in that droid, what the hell was Mando thinking when he took him to Mandalore’s surface??? He knew they were going into an unknown potentially very dangerous situation. Taking the kid with him made absolutely no sense and shows that he really doesn’t have any experience with children.

7. This point may be influenced by fanon, but even if it is, I don’t care. Where are the non-humans Mandalorians??? They are a “swear the Creed, become one of us” people. They shouldn’t be all humans or near-humans!

8. The fights were disappointing, especially the gun fights. Most of them just felt too staged (which I know they are, but they aren’t supposed to feel that way) and boring and like the Mandalorians were Stormtroopers who couldn’t aim. Until they suddenly could 🙄

9. Why are Mandalorians so self-sacrificial? I don’t care that it makes sense with their culture and that it was a logical enough choice. I didn’t want Paz to die!!! I like his big dick/gun energy and the way he’s just very guided by his emotions and his pride. But I guess that’s what fics are so I’m gonna head up to AO3 later, and hopefully someone will have already fulfilled my fix-it need🤞

10. I always assumed that Mando’s first name was Din and his last name Djarin. Which is my Western raising showing I know. They could have told us before the last episode of the 3rd season that it’s the opposite though! Because if they did it earlier, I completely missed it 🤷‍♀️

11. Can they stop making the big bad guy come back in a full black armor? Darth Vader is dead and the vibes are over 🙄

12. The New Republic is proving to be very fussy about procedures and paperwork, which I expected. I didn’t expect them to go the forced indoctrination way though. That part was a bit darker than I expected. I did like it though!

So, this was my post-bing ramble. Hopefully it’ll still make sense when I get up tomorrow!

[thisaccountcannotexist]

a memior

When you are almost 23, it’s hard to explain to your boyfriend of 2 years that sometimes you shake because when you were 15, a senior held you down in his backseat and forced himself on you. That the reason you always reiterate how safe he made you feel is because you never felt that way before. The, so called, man you dated before him would put your life on the line for $100 for weed at least once a week.

Rewind. 

It started at 14. I thought I knew love. I thought love was the way he chose me to be his first time. I thought it was a teddy bear and chocolates on Valentine’s Day after being belittled for weeks on end. But things would get better, and apologies temporarily healed emotional wounds.

I really thought I knew love. But love isn’t forcing your best friend to blow him and then posting about it on Twitter. 

Next.

When a senior tells you you’re pretty when you’re a 15-year-old sophomore, you’ll do anything to believe its love. 

But that love isn’t love. Love isn’t getting you so drunk you blackout and throw up out a window and then recording as his best friend takes advantage of you. 

And then, when you finally break free, he invites you over to just talk before he leaves for college and say bye (as friends), you go along with it. Because you don’t want him to spread lies about you again if you don’t comply. And when that 19-year-old picks you up at 16 and forces himself on you until you only stop crying because your body is too pre-occupied with convulsing, that sure as hell is not love. 

But what’s worst. What’s worst is when you come home, stomach, neck, wrists, thighs and ankles bruised to no one. To absent parents. To a dad who is too busy having an affair with someone not far off from your own age. To a mom who is trying her best to pick up the pieces of a broken family while breaking glass ceilings. 

So, you say talk to a friend. But what friends are left when they all believe the rumors from the man who just dehumanized you in his car in a church parking lot. What friends are there when you were kept away from them for so long by the same man that they want nothing to do with you anymore because you’ve been MIA. 

So, you’re alone.  

You’re alone so you turn to doing the only thing that feels right. Being used. You market yourself not as damaged goods, but as not caring at all. Do what you want with me. Use me. Nothing will hurt as much as that night in the church parking lot. I thought God was supposed to protect you at church.

Being used gets you back out there. You’re invited to parties by another guy who thinks you’ll blow him in the bathroom that night. And if you drink enough or smoke a blunt, who knows maybe you will. If it keeps you around. If it makes you feel something. Why not?

But here’s the thing

This is all before the end of my sophomore year of high school. 

There was this one guy. I shouldn’t say was. He still exists, but I’m probably a distant memory now. He made me feel heard. He listened. I’d sneak into his bedroom at night. Not have sex. To talk. I’m not sure he ever really understood what my life had been like in the past 2 years, but he knew I needed someone. I liked him a lot. We’d text ‘til 3am, and he’d make sure I was okay when I seemed off in school. 

I thought things would be different with him. 

‘til the day he told me he was dating someone. Someone that wasn’t me. I remember asking him if what was between us was all in my head. 

His friends told him I was too big of a whore to be seen with. 

So, I disappeared. 

I don’t think many people could tell you what I was up to during my junior & senior years of high school. It wasn’t much of anything. I had a few friends, only 2 who still acknowledge my existence 4 years later. We’d smoke weed in a car, and drink wine in a basement. I truly don’t know that any of them understood that I was not okay. They thought I was the chill, carefree girl. I was a shell of an 18-year-old. 

On a different note.

My cheating father came clean about the same time after his mistress asked me for money or threatened to tell my mom about the affair. My mom already knew. 

That same day I ran away for the first time. I got in a car accident.

Less than 6 months later we found out my dad was sick. They told us we’d be lucky if he weren’t in a wheelchair in the next 10 years. I have 4 years left until we find out if they were right or not. 

My senior year.

I met a boy from another town. It was a breath of fresh air. Truthfully, he was just as broken as me. Things were never steady, but he was around for a while. A distraction at the least. 

I escaped.

Moving to college where I knew less than 5 names was everything I needed. 

Freshman year I was roofied and woke up in a house naked with my clothes & phone missing. I found my phone and called an uber home wearing nothing but random clothing of his that I found in the living room. I told no one. I came home at 6 am before my roommates knew anything. That day I showered 3 times. I threw up all week. The bruises reminded me of the church parking lot. 

I met someone. 

Another breath of fresh air, of hope. He was my freshman year formal date. Things were looking up. Until someone in my sorority brought the guy who roofied me to formal and I threw up so hard in the bathroom that I broke blood vessels. My date still fucked me that night and for hours after I cried in the twin-sized bed beside him while he slept. 

Nothing ever came of us. He’d Snapchat me sometimes and invite me to frat parties, nothing special. 

The most special thing about us was the nights I’d spend climbing in his bedroom window and smoking weed at 2 am once a week for the majority of my sophomore year of college. 

Attention felt good. 

Of course, when I felt the most stable I had in months, my sophomore year, the pandemic hit. 

Circles had to be kept small, so who better to spend time with than your drug dealer. He was a local. No big shot. It was entertainment when the world around us sucked everything out of us. 

There are a lot of memories of that time that I choose to forget. 

Lots of first times at 20 for someone who was a “whore” at 16.

The first time he slapped me for not listening. 

The first time he forced himself into me while I was asleep.

The first time he took me on a drug deal and locked me in a car with a man with a gun.

The first time he choked me so hard I blacked out. 

I tried to leave him multiple times, but the threats kept me coming back. Looking back, I barely remember what they were. But at the time, I was so scared I’d do anything to keep him happy.

Of course, my parents noticed none of this. Or if they did it wasn’t concerning enough to say anything. To protect their own daughter. 

I spent most of 2020 drunk or high. Was about the only two things I enjoyed feeling. Make that 3 feelings. Drunk, high, or numb. 

Junior year of college.

It started drunk, high or numb. That August was when I became bulimic. If I was going to be a mess, I might as well be skinny. I lost 30 pounds in 3 months. I was a shell of a human. Somedays I still am (just a fat shell now). 

I spent my nights climbing in the same window and kissing strangers in bars. Who would have thought that a stranger in a bar would be the one to save me. 

He saved me.

That first night I went home with him, I expected to be used & discarded. But that was far from the case. He cared, he was gentle. Over 2 years later & here I am writing this because I don’t know how to explain the past to him. 

The first time I said I love you to him I broke down & cried so hard. Did the alcohol in my system have something to do with it. Yes. But what it really was was that every other person I had ever loved had hurt me. Most people it takes months to fall in love. This was a month in. Did I just hand over so much control to this man who could hurt me in a second. 

I sat and cried in the dirt outside a party & refused to get up after I said “I love you”. He was so confused. I expected to be left there. Instead, he helped me up, and took me back to his place. I shook so hard on his couch with no tears left to cry while he heated up a warm shower and grabbed me anything I may need. He didn’t know anything about what was going on that night, but what he did know was that I wasn’t okay. He held me all night long. 

Since then, he’s been nothing but a supportive best friend. I love him so much for that. 

What really sucks 

The nights when one little thing triggers a memory, a name pops up, or I think too long and a part of my life I tried so hard to forget comes back.

How do you explain to the one you love & who saved you that the reason you’re shaking is because you know that you made the tiniest mistake earlier and as much as you love and trust him you think about how easily in the past someone you thought you loved would change in a heartbeat and hurt you. 

Maybe giving this to him to read would help. Maybe it would hurt. Keeping secrets is never good. But truthfully, I wrote this for myself. Because as much as I know this only a fraction of the story, I’ve never said all of this out loud. I haven’t quite said it yet but writing it is a step in the right direction. 

[catblgog]

Topic: Wings (week 2)

Research

Found an interesting tumblr post I had saved before (link here). Not gonna detail every moment of it here but I liked the idea that an echo could be an angel. What else could be an angel? I read an article on radar angels too. Then I found some random articles on jstor that weren't too helpful. And I tried to find things that could be angels but just got weird boring stuff. The intelligent slime was a cool find though. And I looked at poems on the poetry foundation. And I tried to figure out why people liked flying / dreamed about flying but it was weirdly speculative and was all worded like it was lying to me. Quote on the desire to fly-- "I think flying like a bird represents freedom for us. It’s a freedom of movement which lies only in our imagination." (link to source). There's more notes and details on a Google Doc of notes I have as well.

Reflection on research

Yeah I guess it was fine. I just followed some random rabbit holes. I somehow feel less sure of what my topic might be now though. I liked writing the short story because it was kind of silly, but I also at the same time I didn't like writing it because I had this feeling like I was doing a bad job. And it feels so much shorter for the time it took to write.

Make a thing

Short Story (journal entry format)

May 11th

It’s been about 3 months since The Blink and only 2 months since my 12th birthday. It was 3AM on February 3rd for me, so I was asleep and my eyes were shut. But for the people who were awake and looking around, when they opened their eyes, everyone on earth had a set of wings. It felt like a bad dream when I first woke up, but then I figured out it meant I didn’t have to go to school that day or go to basketball practice with Mary, who I really hate, so it turned out to be a good dream very quickly. It only lasted a week though, once all the people who were scared realized it wasn’t going away and all the people who were excited figured out if they could fly or not. And then everyone had to go back to work so that means I had to go back to school too. For some people it was really easy to fly, like Trey who’s in my class. He lives down my street and was out flying all day long every day until school started again. Now he can’t fly as much and when I see him in the lunchroom he looks sad. But sometimes I see him in the sky at dawn. I always liked to get up early so I could smell the early morning air and watch TV when I shouldn’t be and now I can see Trey flying too. He does really big loops and looks like he was born to be there. My mom doesn’t like when I go flying because she thinks I’ll get lost or kidnapped, but I can still go anyway sometimes because Kim invites me. She’s one year older and lives on the other side of my neighborhood and my mom thinks it’s safer with her. My mom also makes me promise that we won’t fly over the ocean in case I fall in and drown, but I think that if I fall on water or land it won’t make a difference because no matter where I fall I’ll get hurt anyway. She doesn’t like when I say that very much, but she didn’t ever even try to fly so I don’t think she understands. But neither of us read all the news stories of all the ways people are getting hurt flying like my dad does, so maybe I don’t understand either. But flying is a lot more fun than riding penny boards with Kim to the mall because we can go really fast without worrying about hitting a rock or a crack in the sidewalk. 

June 20th

The other day I saw that the scientists were saying that since the blink, humans don't dream more about flying any more than they used to. And I never dreamed about flying before, and I still don’t now, so maybe they’re right about that. For a long time I thought I was going to get more flying dreams because I kept seeing this one new dumb Dove advertisement where they’re trying to sell a wing deodorant spray. Maybe it’s my own fault for using my summer vacation for watching TV. Kim and I can hang out a lot more now since there’s no school and I think a lot of kids are like us are using their wings to go places too because we never used to see anyone at the mall when we went last year but now there’s a lot. The mall also got a new flight goggle store and a bubble tea place. The goggles are nice because they don’t fall off like sunglasses and can even stop bugs from being in your eyes. The bubble tea drinks are only ok but we still like to get them because they’re sweet and we’re bored. The other day Kim didn’t finish her drink before we left so she tried to bring it with us in the air and we almost got all the way back to my house before she accidentally dropped it on Mr. McMackin’s red truck and it spilled everywhere. I thought it was the funniest thing ever, but I didn’t laugh at all because Mr. McMackin was there and he was not very happy and we had to apologize a lot. I don’t ever see Trey at the mall. I only see him in the early morning when he leaves his house. I think maybe if he had a good friend like Kim he wouldn’t have to be flying alone all the time. 

Sept. 8th

School started again and that means I got to play soccer again because it’s the fall and I don’t get to see Kim as much because it all makes me busy. It’s weird trying to run around with wings but everyone else on my team thinks it’s weird too. We can see the younger kids practicing on the field next to us and I wonder if they think it’s weird because what if they don’t remember life before wings? And I can’t ask them because there’s never a good time to go over and ask since we’re all flapping around playing soccer. I didn’t see Trey in my classes or in the lunchroom yet, and since school started I haven’t seen him flying in the mornings either. I think he might have become one of the “flyaways” where all these kids become runaways because it’s a lot easier since they don’t need a car or train ticket or anything to leave and get far away from home. I don’t think I’d want to fly away because I like hanging out with Kim and my parents and I want to go on an exchange program when I get to high school. But I think maybe Trey will be happier as a flyway. I think I will remember watching the dawn sunlight dancing on his wings and golden hair for a long time. 

[hanajay769]

Adrien as a sentimonster evidenced in Season 5 episode 19 “pretention”

Spoiler warning for those who haven’t seen it yet!

So everyone is already in agreement that the sentimonsters (Adrien and Félix) are controlled by the Graham de Vanily twin rings right? Which is why Félix wanted the ring so bad in the first place. Oh you’re caught up already? Then good let’s continue!

Ok so basically this episode or this specific part that I want to focus on is about Marionette going to talk to Gabriel about her relationship with Adrien. So they walk into the kitchen and Gabriel starts doing his manipulation tactic, using pancakes as a representation of Marionettes future. But before that he asks Adrien to leave the room. When Adrien rejects this Gabriel doubles down and says this⬇️.

The scene focuses on Gabriels hand tightening in the spatula. Which shouldn’t really mean anything other than “oh I’m getting angry but my voice won’t reveal anything to the viewers but my actions will”. Except for the fact that the hand that’s focused in the middle of it all is his left hand that holds his wedding ring or the Graham de Vanily ring. Which we’ve already established that may or may not be controlling Adrien since he’s a sentimonster.

Then it moves to Adrien reaction to the order and his and Marionettes face. The girl is shocked beyond belief rn, and Adrien just looks angry or concentrated(?)

And then to focus on his hand leaving hers like this was such a dramatic moment. Like I know absolutely nothing about film and movies but little actions showing things like these have to be the creators telling us to “pay attention” or to purposely draw our attention. But moving past the little things and into the biggest point I wanted to make here.

Adrien goes to his room and just.. stands by the door for a good while. And only when Plagg notices do we see Adrian’s face. Completely different than the angry/concentrated expression he had earlier.

The man looks to be distraught and his words make him out to be conflicted. Plagg literally asks “what’s stopping you?” When Adrien says what he wants to be downstairs. And his answer is “I can’t disobey my father”?? Like that’s a plausible argument for the fact that you’re literally stuck in place between your wants and an order.

Then when Marionette ends the conversation between her and Gabriel and as a last resort decides to run up to Adrien and tell him how she feels. Adrien is seen still standing in front of the door when she opens it.

Like he was still torn between his decision.

So anyway. Adrien is a sentimonster and was given a direct order to go to his room. Which that order left him to be extremely conflicted and left him literally stuck in place as he mentally decided what to do.

Yup and that’s All I wanted to bring to attention. It’s 3am and despite this probably being the worst analysis/theory post you’ve ever seen. Please leave your opinions and or thoughts as a comment, I definitely want to dive more into this theory. As I also have more obvious evidence as to why Félix is a sentimonster as well.

[unapologeticbb]

I fucked up.

I woke up at 3am in a panic, crying.

So I called him.

No answer of course.

But I shouldn’t have called him.

And I shouldn’t have checked his social media. He posted a new selfie today. And was active in his story posts.

But didn’t reach out after sending this…

Why is this happening? 😤

[villainous-queen]

Pssst. I wanna tell you something really scary...because I actually run about sixty blogs (yes actually) chances are you’ve actually run across me more than once. A bunch are just aesthetic blogs you would have no way of knowing was me. Isn’t that terrifying?

[magnusthefish]

ty: bottling up negative emotions is bad for your health

kit: *finger guns* that’s why i also bottle up the positive ones

[astralkoo]

The Snack Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Genre: neighbors au, smut

Rating: 18+

Words: 6.4k

Summary: in which your annoying, younger neighbor has a nasty habit of breaking into your apartment late at night and stealing your food.

Warnings: strong language, technically breaking & entering, broke college student struggles, older!reader, Jungkook saying noona, explicit sexual content; sub!jungkook, dom!reader, blowjob, kitty gets ate, sixty-nine, very mild degrading (jk gets called a slut like once), needy jk, fingering (m. receiving)

— author’s note; it’s been a minute, hasn’t it? i’ve been trying to get back into my groove so hopefully this is the start of a very active and productive summer for my writing. also! this is cross posted on my new wattpad account bckupbabies so if you see it on there, that’s me don’t worry!

You woke with a start, heart pounding, skin drenched in cold sweat, fear gripping at your chest.

There's someone in your apartment.

It was a split second realization, one that ripped you violently from the gentle thralls of sleep and had thick, stifling terror settling like heavy stones in your gut. Sucking your lips into your mouth to prevent your breath from coming out too audibly, you strained your ears, listening carefully. At first, all you could make out was the soft whirring of the fan above your head. But then—

Thud.

In an instant, you were out from beneath the covers, a shiver rushing down your spine as the cold night air nipped at the exposed skin of your arms and legs. Instinctively, your hand shot to the nightstand, rushing over the smooth wood surface, seeking out your phone. Only— it wasn't there. Shit. You must've accidentally left it on the counter last night. Shit.

Gritting your teeth, you stumbled through the darkness, bracing a steadying palm against the wall to guide yourself across the bedroom.

"Where is it, where is it, where is it?" You hissed, searching blindly for the item you're always sure to keep near your bedside in case of a situation just like this. It didn't take long before your fingers grazed the smooth rubber grip of your old-reliable baseball bat. You let out a cautious exhale and moved silently towards the door, careful to avoid the floorboards that squeak.

Keeping your back against the wall, you stepped into the short hall. You could hear more clearly without the separation of your bedroom door; the heavy footsteps and low grumbling voice. It wasn't just your sleep hazed mind playing a nasty trick; there was someone in your goddamn apartment. A combination of fear and rage heated the blood currently rushing through your veins, the thundering of your pulse almost deafening in your ears.

Another loud bang sounded through your apartment and your shoulders tensed.

Were they even trying to be quiet? What a shitty burglar. They should've done their research before busting in. You were a broke college student working at a freaking campus cafe just barely able to afford paying your rent every month. The most valuable thing in your apartment was probably the ultra soft two ply toilet paper you'd splurged on last time you went shopping for basic necessities.

And you'd be sure to bash the bastard's head in before he could lay his greedy fingers on your precious two ply.

Letting out your fiercest battle cry, you swung your bat over your head and launched yourself out from behind the wall, poised for the attack. The man in your kitchen, who was elbow deep in your snack cabinet, shrieked (incredibly un-burglar-like, you might add). The sound was so high pitched and sharp that you flinched, startled as he whirled around clumsily, not only banging his elbows but tripping over his own feet in the process. You were barely able to catch a glimpse of his face before he fell, disappearing behind the counter.

But something about that scream was vaguely... familiar?

"Jungkook?"

The top of his head peeked out from behind the countertop, familiar doe eyes blinking back at you sheepishly. "Hi, noona."

The tension in your shoulders immediately melted upon realizing that you in fact not being robbed by an armed lunatic— rather, you were being robbed by your annoying next door neighbor. Again.

"Are you out of your mind?!" You hissed sharply, frustration flaring, "it's fucking three in the morning! Why the hell are you in my apartment?"

"I was hungry!"

"That doesn't explain why you're here!"

"I was craving ramyeon but I ran out! And– and you always have extra anyway so I thought you wouldn't mind!"

"Ha! You thought I wouldn't mind—" You gritted your teeth, on the verge of seething when you noticed he was still ducked behind the counter. "Why are you still hiding? Get over here." So I can beat your ramyeon stealing ass, you added in your head.

"Drop the bat— then we can talk." He bargained, nodding pointedly towards your weapon, still poised for attack.

Grunting, you reluctantly released the handle, letting it fall to the floor with a sharp clang.

Jungkook let out a low breath of relief, before meekly stepping out from his position behind the counter. Your eyes immediately dropped to his hands, still desperately clutching onto two packets of ramyeon.

Pinning him with a glare meant to reprimand, you crossed your arms firmly over your chest. "Jungkook, you can not keep—" your scolding was abruptly interrupted by a low, thunderous rumbling, your gaze jumping in surprise to the younger boy's face, which was now donning an embarrassed blush. "W– was that your stomach?"

Sucking his lips into his mouth, he nodded, head dropping in shame.

A wave of sympathy washed over you upon realizing just how hungry he must be. Any anger at having your sleep ever so rudely disrupted quickly fizzled out, the tension in your shoulders dissipating as he shuffled his feet shyly.

"Geez, this brat." You muttered under your breath, trudging over to where he stood and snatching the ramyeon packets from his grasp. He looked up at you with wide, pitiful eyes, and you could tell he thought that you were going to kick him to the curb. Instead, you jerked your chin into the direction of the couch and said, "go sit down while I make these. Don't need you hovering over my damn shoulder."

It would be a lie to say your heart didn't flutter a little at the sheer amount of excitement that lit up his face, pink lips breaking into a wide, uncontainable grin. Deciding not to push his luck, he quickly bobbed his head and scampered over to the couch, tossing a bubbly, "thank you, noona!" over his shoulder as he went.

You scoffed, though the corners of your mouth tipped upwards in spite of yourself.

The kid was cute. You'd give him that much. With those big shiny eyes and that stupid bucktoothed grin. Even if he was a perpetual trespasser and a food thief to boot, you'd let his little indiscretions slide... for now.

The ramyeon didn't take long to make, but, even all the way across the room, you could practically hear Jungkook's stomach growling up a storm by the time you were pouring it into two separate bowls. He was squirming on the couch, peaking over the back of it with wide, wanting eyes, damn near drooling at the mere smell of the sodium soaked noodles.

"Don't spill," you warned with a click of your tongue as made your way to the couch, handing him one of the bowls, "eat this, then go home, alright?"

Jungkook was already stuffing his cheeks before you'd even finished speaking, but he paused to pout over at you upon processing your words. "Noona..." he gurgled in soft whine around his mouth full of noodles, making sure to swallow before he finished, "why do you want me to leave so badly? You're hurting my feelings."

You scoffed as he pressed a large hand to his chest, wincing dramatically as if your words had somehow truly wounded him. "Do I have to remind you that it's 3am? I was sleeping. I would like to go back to sleep. I was having a very good dream before you fucking broke in to my apartment and tried to rob me." You hissed, plopping down on the couch beside him and shoveling your ramyeon into your own mouth.

Damn. That shit was good.

"I wasn't robbing you." He protested weakly. You raised an unconvinced brow.  "Just... borrowing."

You barked out a laugh. "Oh? So you were planning to return all the snacks you were about to steal?" His eyes lowered, a guilty pout turning the corners of his mouth downwards. "Yeah, didn't think so."

"Still..." he grumbled bitterly, looking up at you through his thick lashes. "I'm much more fun than sleep."

You snorted. "I beg to differ."

There was an uncharacteristic lull of silence, and you spared a questioning glance in Jungkook's direction, not expected to be greeted by the astonished expression painted across his face.

He looked... genuinely offended.

"Noona," he sounded rather distraught as he set his half eaten bowl down on the coffee table before turning his body fully towards you, "how could you say that?"

Your brows lifted expectantly, confusion swimming in your gaze. "What?" You laughed lightly, not understanding why he suddenly seemed upset. You were just joking around... had you accidentally hit a nerve?

"You have fun with me." He insisted once more, a certain desperation to his words.

"Yeah... when it's not 3am."

"Liar." He scowled, gaze dropping to where his fingers were tracing miscellaneous shapes on the fabric of your couch. "That's when you have the most fun with me."

His voice had dropped into a low whisper at that last part, so you had to strain your ears a bit to make out exactly what it was he was saying. At first, you were confused. The most fun...? But then you saw the faint blush coating his cheeks, the shy fluttering of his lashes, the nervous fidgeting of his fingers...

And it clicked.

A few weeks ago, you did something stupid. Something you shouldn't have done. You'd given into urges that should have remained buried deep, deep inside of you.

"Jungkook." Your voice held a warning pitch as you growled his name. He shuddered ever so faintly at the shift in your tone and quickly turned away from you, snagging his lower lip tightly between his teeth.

"It's true..." he grumbled petulantly, kicking his foot lightly against the leg of your coffee table.

You stared at his profile through furrowed brows, gaze hard and unwavering as you set your own bowl onto the table. "We talked about this, Jungkook. We agreed not to bring it up again!"

"No, you— you made that decision all on your own." He protested quickly, thrusting an accusing finger in your direction. "I made no such promise."

"Jungkook," you sighed heavily, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your fingers into your temples as they throbbed, "what I did—"

"We," he corrected, leveling you with a stubborn glare, "what we did. Stop acting like I wasn't a willing participant."

"You're a kid—"

"I'm nineteen! I can make my own decisions!"

"No. You can't."

At that, his expression hardened, lips pursing, fingers curling into tight fists, eyes flaring with determination.

"Watch me."

In the next second he was on top of you, straddling your lap, large hands cradling your jaw as he pressed his warm lips purposefully to yours.

Startled, your hands leapt to hold his waist, instinctively steadying him. The rest of your body remained stiff and unresponsive, frozen in shock from the sheer unexpectedness of the kiss. It wasn't until Jungkook let out a soft, pleading whine against your unmoving mouth that you were kickstarted back into motion.

"Jungkook," you gasped out his name, somewhat more breathlessly than you intended, hands rushing between your bodies to push him away by the swells of his firm chest, "w–what are you—"

"You want me." The younger boy swiftly interrupted, his warm breath caressing your lips as his fingers gripped gently at the back of your neck. "You want me. You can't deny it. You said so."

You were goddamn dizzy. "When did I—"

"Fuck, Jungkook. You have no idea how long I've wanted this. How long I've wanted you." It took you an extra second to realize that he was quoting back your words from that night. Word for fucking word. Heat rushed to your face, your hand gripping harder at the thin fabric of his top.

"How do you even remember that." You grumbled bitterly, embarrassed at having been called out.

The corner of his mouth curled into a small, teasing smile. "I have a pretty good memory."

"Bullshit," you scoffed, "I can't count the number of times you've forgotten to bring back the shit that you 'borrowed' from me. I bet you have a fucking closet full of my sweatshirts."

"I didn't forget... I just didn't want to give them back." He informed you in a soft, lilting hum, running his thumb over the smooth cut of your jaw.

"Thief." You spat, but the word lacked any real fire. It sounded weak on your tongue, a soft fluttering of breath that easily could have been mistaken for a moan. You saw his eyes drop to your mouth, desire pooling within them, so thick and dark that you felt it polluting the air around you, polluting your lungs with every jagged inhale.

He shifted on top of you, strong thighs squeezing around your hips. You tried to pretend that you didn't feel the press of something hot and hard against the top of your leg, but the tremble of your eyes and the clench of your fingers were not easily mistaken.

Jungkook sunk his teeth into the delicate flesh of his lower lip, and your gaze followed the motion unconsciously. You didn't even realize you were staring at his mouth until he spoke in that low, hoarse whisper, ripping you violently from your trance.

"Can I take a little more?"

Your brain was screaming at you to say no, screaming at you to not be selfish, to not be greedy. To not want something so terribly that you felt it trembling through your very bones. You shouldn't want this. Shouldn't want him. He was too young, too naive, too sensitive. You'd break the poor boy before he even realized what happened.

You should say no.

Mind made up, you opened your mouth, fully prepared to reject the boy and put a stop to whatever the hell this had become, right then and there. You were prepared to be the responsible senior that you needed to be, for both his sake and yours.

But what actually came out was something entirely different.

"Yes."

Jungkook barely had time to let out a happy whimper before his mouth was back on yours. A soft groan rumbled in your chest as your arms curled around his slim waist, tugging him ever closer. Long fingers tangled in your hair, he gently tugged your head back, leaning himself over you in order to deepen the kiss. You permitted him to do so without resistance, lips parting to allow his eager tongue to invade your mouth.

His body was hot and heavy above yours, but you didn't mind the added weight, the pressure on your thigh probably the only thing keeping you grounded. Because the heat between your legs was a anything but grounding. Sticky and wet, an accumulation of unspoken need and neglected lust that refused to be ignored for even a moment longer. A bleary haze fell over your mind, all the blood in your head suddenly rushing downwards to feed the growing flames in your groin.

The first roll of his hips was so minute, so slight that you would have missed it completely had it not been for the soft, airy moan that escaped his throat. The second was less than subtle, a hard, deliberate grind that rocked his already half-hard erection against your stomach. You felt it there, where your shirt had ridden up to expose a thin strip of skin, the front of his sweatpants growing thick and damp with his steadily increasing arousal. Your grip around him tightened, nails biting into his clothed hips hard enough to have crimson flowers blossoming across his golden flesh.

The sting coaxed a strained moan from Jungkook's inflamed lips, the rolling of his hips growing more frantic. You were quick to steady them, not wanting him to overexcite himself too soon.

"Calm down." Even in your own ears, you voice sounded thick and unstable, and you silently cursed yourself for having gotten so worked up by a mere kiss. But, in your defense, it was one hell of a kiss.

"I'm calm." He insisted unconvincingly through harsh pants, fighting for oxygen but not willing to pull away from you lips long enough to actually breathe. Quite the dilemma.

You chuckled softly, sliding a hand up to grip his jaw, preventing his mouth from finding yours for just long enough to soothe the fierce burn in your lungs. He took that opportunity to strip himself of his top, tossing it haphazardly to the floor.

You felt your stomach tighten, taken off guard by the unexpectedly display of glowing, sun-kissed skin you found before you, stretched across thick, toned muscle that flexed and tightened with even the most minuscule of movements. Subconsciously, your tongue slipped out of your suddenly dry mouth, dragging over your swollen lips.

Jungkook mimicked the motion, reaching down with ink embroidered hands to grip your wrists, gently guiding them up the length of his fit torso. "Touch me." It was a plea, the low whimper lacing the words a dead giveaway of his unyielding desperation.

You didn't hesitate to comply.

Pushing forward, you set vengeful teeth upon his prominent collarbone, biting down just hard enough to leave your mark. He moaned loudly, head falling back as your nails raked over his sensitive nipples. A violent shiver transversed his body, goosebumps rippling across his exposed skin that was set on fire by your greedy touch. He found the back of your head and neck with trembling hands, urging you closer without use of words. You kissed up the length of his taut throat, sucking and licking until you were content with the colorful array of bruises you'd left in your wake.

"Kiss me." You whispered against the defined curve of his jaw, wanting another taste of those pretty little lips. His head dropped forward obediently, mouth open and ready to be received by you. Fuck, he looked so hot from that angle; dark, hooded eyes pooling with lust so deep you could drown it it, kissable, rose petal lips glistening and swollen and just begging for attention, full cheeks flushed a dangerous shade of red that only enticed you further.

How could he look so ruined? You hadn't even touched his dick yet.

The thought roused a scoff in the back of your throat, and Jungkook pulled back slightly at the sound. "What?" He asked, the tip of his nose brushing yours.

"Nothing..." you grinned lazily, before kissing him slowly, deeply, lustfully; kissing him in such a way that the poor boy was trembling in your lap, gasping and whining by the time you pulled away with a lewd smack, lips wet and stained an erotic crimson. You chuckled as he swallowed, pupils blow and unfocused. Reaching up, you cupped his chin, rolling your thumb over his lower lip. He sighed, eyes fluttering as he teased the tip of the digit with his tongue.

"... just wanna put your dick in my mouth."

At that, his shimmering doe eyes popped open wide, shocked— then excited.

"Don't tease me." He pleaded weakly, hips stuttering over your thighs.

You reach between your bodies, taking the time to revere the fine-tuned slopes and edges of his ridged abdomen, before finally finding the hard outline of his flushed, angry cock straining against the thick fabric of his sweats. He gasped brokenly at the contact, forehead falling against your shoulder as he gripped desperately onto your arms, dull nails digging into your biceps. You turned, smirking lips feathering over the shell of his pink tinted ear.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

And then, he was on his back.

Jungkook let out a squeak of surprise, chest heaving as he attempted to process the sudden change in position. But you didn't give him the chance, slotting yourself between his spread thighs

"W– we didn't do this last time." He stuttered clumsily, staring up at you with those wide, dangerously innocent eyes that made you want to absolutely wreck him.

"No, we didn't." You confirmed, nipping lightly at one of his pert brown nipples. He jolted, letting out a low, unsteady moan of your name, a cry for your attention.

"S– sensitive, noona."

God, he is so fucking cute.

"I'll be gentle." The reassurance did little to soothe the violent thundering of his heart, the heavy thrum of it setting his every limb to shaking.

He was nervous. You could tell. Understandably.

Truth is— Jungkook was a virgin.

Key word: was.

As in, before he broke into your apartment at 3am on that fateful morning where you lost your cool because damn did you he look good in that skin tight black t-shirt that showed off those sexy tattoos and those thigh hugging black skinny jeans that squeezed his cute butt in all the right places. Of course, you didn't discover that until after the deed was done (seeing as he hadn't had the mind to tell you while your tongue was shoved halfway down his throat).

But god, you felt so guilty. You'd never taken anyone's virginity before. And you weren't so sure fucking on a kitchen counter was the most... romantic way of losing it. It had been quick, messy, all sweat and teeth and nails, the blunt edge of the cold counter digging into your ass.

Sure, it felt fucking amazing, and you'd received no complaints from Jungkook's end. But still. Had you known, you would've been... gentler. Or, at the very least, you would have had the tact to take him to bed.

You hadn't even blown him for fucks sake.

So, if you were doing this —and, as it appeared, you were most definitely doing this— then goddamnit, you were going to do it right and make up for all the things you hadn't done his first time.

You descended his body slowly, taking your sweet time licking and nibbling over all his lovely curves and sharp edges, marking the places you'd been with pink, flowering bruises. His head kicked back, mouth falling open around an onslaught of heady moans as he reveled in your unrelenting affections. Distracted, he didn't even notice you slipping his pants down his legs until the cool air hit the sensitive tip of his weeping cock.

"N– noona!" He propped himself up on his elbows, desperate to see you, to find your eyes through the disorienting cloud of lust he found himself engulfed in. Arousal spun his brain into useless mush inside of his skull at the sight of you between his legs, looking right back up at him, pretty mouth hovering just above his hard need, soft breath caressing the feverish skin.

"Relax, Jungkook. It'll feel good." You chuckled, pressing a soothing kiss to his hip.

"I– I know," he swallowed, and you didn't miss the dark blush creeping into his cheeks as his eyes fluttered shyly, "I just— I want to make you feel good... too... b- because last time you didn't..."

Last time you didn't...?

Oh.

Oh.

"Okay," you hummed simply, pushing yourself up with an easy smile, "I can think of a solution."

Jungkook watched with bated breath as you stood, damn near choking on his own spit when you abruptly shoved your pajama shorts down your legs. "N- no underwear?" He whispered, voice hoarse and strained as he stared unabashedly at the bare expanse of smooth skin between your thighs, glistening with sticky wetness.

You smirked faintly, appreciating the reverence glistening in his melting brown eyes. "For convenience sake," you teased.

He flopped down on the couch with a dramatic groan. "Fuck, you're killing me."

Leaning over the younger boy, you pressed a deep, purposeful kiss to his delicate, lovely lips, eliciting an appreciative moan from his burning chest.

"Don't worry..." you pulled back, breathing the words into his open mouth, "I'll do it slow."

"Fuck..." he squeaked.

Laughing softly, you dropped your knees to the edge of the sofa and splayed a hand over his toned stomach. He was hard and warm to the touch, and you liked the way his muscles flinched and fluttered beneath your palm.

"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do," you pressed your lips to his throat, feeling the way it bobbed as he swallowed, "I'm gonna get on top of you..." you walked your fingers down towards where his dick lay, red and leaking across his belly, "and you're going to eat me out," he moaned shakily against your cheek, hands lifting to grip your arms, "while I suck your pretty little cock. How's that sound?"

"S– so good. Fuck, that sounds so fucking good." He pulled at you greedily, begging you with wide, wanting eyes.

You caved to him all too easily, carefully maneuvering your body until you were situated above him, knees planted on the cushion on either side of his head. Hot breath rushed over your exposed core, sending shivers ricocheting down your spine. Hands gripped at your thighs, rough and calloused against your skin. He was pulling again, whining out soft, shuddering "please, please, please" as he tugged at your hips, trying to get you closer. Closer.

Teasingly, you kept your hips raised, just out of reach of his ravenous mouth, so eager to steal a taste. "Noona," he whined petulantly, "don't be cruel."

Cruel? You nearly scoffed. You haven't even begun.

Regardless, you decided to end the torture there, lowering your hips until you were within his reach. He didn't let a moment pass before his tongue was on you, lapping eagerly at your wet slit. You gasped, clutching tightly onto the thick muscles of his thighs, your own legs growing weak under his relentless ministrations.

Holy shit. You didn't expect it to feel that good.

It was only when Jungkook's hips bucked beneath you, a pleading whimper vibrating through your center, that you realized you weren't fulfilling your end of the deal. Stuttering back into motion, you encircled his hard length in an unsteady hand, feeling the raw heat of it throbbing angrily within your grasp.

"You're good with your tongue, baby." You chuckled breathlessly, pumping him slowly with the help of his spilling precum. He moaned in response to the praise, long fingers digging in hard to the flesh of your ass. Another, more violent tremble wracked your body as his tongue dragged over your sensitive clit, the responding rush of pleasure pulling a low groan from your chest.

Shit, if he kept that up—

Feeling that you'd given him enough of a head start, you dipped down, swiftly engulfing his glistening tip in your lips. Jungkook gasped against you, and you could almost picture his eyes snapping wide open, jaw going slack. The blissful pressure of his tongue gave way to cold air as he tensed and shuddered beneath you, all those hard, rigid muscles turning to jelly as he processed the mind numbing sensation of your mouth around his cock. It was an unwelcome absence, and you quickly found yourself growing impatient and —shamefully enough— needy, your aching core craving attention.

But Jungkook was a mess beneath you, moaning and whining pathetically as his hips bucked and spasmed, entirely overwhelmed. His arms were wrapped around your waist, holding you so tightly you were certain you'd be feeling it tomorrow. You felt his tongue, sloppy and uncoordinated lapping at your folds with a desperation that set your blood to flames. The vibrations of his sounds resonated through your clit, and you hastened your own movement, feeling yourself clench and throb with your impending release.

You pulled off of him with a lewd pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his swollen tip to your lower lip, before sliding your hands beneath his ample thighs and tugging.

"Lift your legs for me, baby."

He obeyed immediately, feet rising from the cushion, too lost in your intoxicating taste to second guess what you were planning. At least, not until he felt your touch shifting from his thighs to his ass, and a warm, wet dribble of saliva sliding over his hole. He flinched violently, a gasp shooting from his lips at the unfamiliar sensation.

"Ah–! N- Noona, where are you touching—" he yelped, trying to sit up and catch a glimpse around the shape of your body. Swinging your ankles up to rest against his shoulders, you forced him back down, looking back at him from over your shoulder with a cocked brow and a seductive grin.

"Where do you think?" You chuckling teasingly. "Are you clean?"

"Yeah..." he whispered shyly, and you could practically feel the heat of his blush radiating against your skin as he confessed, "I– I showered before coming over..."

"Good." You slid a single finger over the ring of muscle, watching in amusement as it fluttered and clenched in response to the unsubstantial caress. "Tell me if you need me to stop, alright?"

At first he only nodded, but choked out a soft "okay" when you pinched his thigh, urging him to use his words.

Purring out a low praise, you returned to his cock, licking a thick strip from base to tip as your index slowly circled his entrance. Jungkook whined and squirmed, still trying his best to keep up with pleasuring you. It was cute, feeling and hearing him struggle.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered what kind of face he was making beneath your dripping cunt. Were his eyes rolling to the back of his head? Was his tongue hanging out of his mouth? Was his feverish skin glistening with a mixture of his sweat and your arousal? Fuck, you were so curious.

In an attempt to stifle your frustration over not getting to see what kind of fucked out expression he wore, you sunk the tip of your digit into his hole, down to the first knuckle. Jungkook gasped at the unexpected intrusion, his already hard grip on your thighs tightening further. Even with just the tip in, he was clenching hard, and you allowed him a handful of moments to adjust to the sensation. You hummed around his length, swirling your tongue expertly over his sensitive tip to distract from any momentary discomfort he might've been feeling.

It seemed to work well enough, his body gradually relaxing around you as he let out soft, airy moans, delicate whispers of your name fluttering from his lips. "You can—" he whimpered as you licked his slit, "you can put it in deeper."

Heat coiled in your gut, a wicked smirk spreading across your face. "You want it deeper, kookie?" There was a taunting pitch to your words that had the boy curling in on himself, skin hot with embarrassment. When he made no effort to respond, you squeezed your free hand around the thick base of his dick, wrenching a cry from his throat. "If you want it deeper, you have to ask nicely."

"You're so mean, Noona." He whined hoarsely, the muscles in his legs tensing sporadically from the effort it was taking to not fuck himself into your closed fist.

"That didn't sound like a question..."

Jungkook groaned weakly, head tossed back in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. There was a beat, and then you felt the shy press of his lips against your clit accompanied by a light flick of his tongue.

"P– please put it in deeper, Noona..."

"Mmm, good boy," you emphasized the praise by slipping the rest of your finger into his tight heat, spitting once more to ensure substantial lubrications.

"Ngh— oh f– fuck—"

"Does it hurt?"

"No it just..." he swallowed thickly, "feels a little weird."

"This should help with that," you murmured, more so to yourself than him, curling your finger in search of that small bundle of nerves that would make him—

"Ah! Oh fuck!"

A smug grin settled across your lips. Found it.

Jungkook moaned loudly, tossing his head back, hips bucking violently as you rolled your finger against his prostate, sending tendrils of white hot pleasure bursting through his body. That's more like it.

"Feel good?"

"Yes! Yes! Feels– ah! Feels so good, noona," he sobbed brokenly, clutching onto your legs. You thrust your finger into him slowly, making sure to ease him into the feeling of having something inside of him. If you played this right, perhaps he'd let you do more than just finger him. You had toys sitting in your closet that you were just dying to use. Who better on than the cute snack thief next door?

"Think you can take another?" You asked, a bit eager to stretch him out, to see how much he could handle.

He nodded quickly, grinding his hips greedily down onto your finger, wanting it deeper, harder, faster. "Please. Please. I want more."

"Needy little slut." You laughed dryly, nudging your middle finger against the rim of his wet hole. You sure as hell didn't miss the way his pretty cock twitched in response to the degrading words, and a whole new round of excitement festered inside of you.

You were going to have so much fun with him.

It took a bit of careful prodding before you managed to press the length of your second digit inside of him, his tight walls clamping down around the invading appendages.

"Please move." He begged pathetically.

You planted a steadying palm to his hips as they began to buck, holding them down against the cushion. "You're too tight, sweetheart."

"I– I can't help it." He whined, a distressed cry breaking from his heaving chest.

Sympathy swirled in your belly. You could damn near feel the desperation radiating from his body in thick, hot waves. Dipping your head, you pressed a light kiss to the swollen, red head of his shuddering cock.

"Then let me help you relax."

Jungkook sobbed as you took him into your mouth, the warmth of your skilled tongue tracing a slow ring around the underside of his tip sending his head into a tailspin. It wasn't long before you felt the tension in his muscles melting away, quickly snatching the opportunity to start fucking your fingers into him. The pace you set was slow and steady, but you made sure that with every thrust you were brushing against his prostate.

The amount of pleasure rushing through his body at that point was overwhelming, and he'd been reduced to a moaning, crying mess beneath you. Any words he managed to choke out between his sounds of bliss was broken and unintelligible on swollen lips. A small corner of your mind was concerned about your neighbors, wondering if they could hear his wailing through the dangerously thin walls.

"N– Noona— it's so good, oh my god feels so fucking good—"

Fuck. To hell with the neighbors. They should be goddamn grateful.

You sped up the pace of your fingers, burying them down to the knuckle with each thrust. He was writhing now, unable to control his body let alone keep still as he was engulfed in a mind numbing heat. It wrapped itself around his every limb, his every sense overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his impending release.

"I– I think I'm gonna—" he couldn't even make it through his warning before he was cut off by his own whimpers. Luckily, you didn't need him to finish his sentence to know what he was trying to say. The signs were obvious enough, especially with the way his wall were throbbing around your fingers, the way he was pulsing between your lips, lathering the back of your tongue with an onslaught his salty pre-cum.

You hastened your ministrations, taking him off guard as your plunged down on his cock, stopping only when your lips met the sweat-slick skin of his pelvis. Jungkook cried out a shattered version of your name, unable to stop his hips from jerking up violently at the feeling of your throat constricting around him as you swallowed.

That seemed to be the last push he needed, because within the next second he was writhing and spilling hot cum down your throat, walls clamping down so hard around your fingers you worried they might break.

It was like nothing he'd every experienced before, he could feel it in every single part of his body. From his curled toes to his trembling finger tips, every last inch of him was devastated by the hurricane of erotic bliss. And unlike every other orgasms he'd experienced in the past, the high of it last way longer than just a few seconds. By the time it finally began to fade, he was still shaking.

You pulled your fingers out of him as gently as you could, but he still whimpered at the sensitivity, quivering legs squeezing shut. Maneuvering around so that you were draped over his chest, you whispered soft apologies against his throat and jaw, spilling soothing kisses across the flushed, perspiring skin. Jungkook curled into you, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head.

For a while you stayed like that, letting him bask in the post-orgasmic bliss as you bathed him in the kind of tender affection that he wasn't used to receiving from you. But, you'd always considered aftercare a vital part of a good sexual experience so, even if it was a bit out of character, you were more than happy to tell him just how good he'd been for you. And he was more than happy to relish in your praise.

"Noona?" He called for your attention suddenly, after his breathing had finally evened out and the deep crimson coating his cheeks had faded into an endearing pink.

"Yes?"

Against your lips, you felt him swallow.

"You didn't cum, did you?"

"I didn't." You admitted after a beat, suddenly reminded of the ache between your legs. You'd managed to be distracted from it, entirely too focused on breaking Jungkook in all the best ways to be concerned with receiving any pleasure. But now, you found yourself very much aware of just how badly you were craving your own release. Subconsciously, you squeezed your legs together.

There was a pause.

"Noona."

"Hm?"

"Sit on my face."

The demand had your hooded eyes flying wide open, mouth freezing mid-kiss.

"... please." He remedied in a bashful whisper.

For a moment, your brain went blank, not fully processing the request. But when it finally did, there were only two words that flooded into your mind and rushed from your lips in a breathless, excited murmur.

Fuck yes.

[johnquinnhughes]

The Thing that Should Not Be - Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

!! TECHNICALLY CONTAINS SPOILERS SO YOU PROBABLY SHOULDN’T READ UNTIL AFTER WATCHING VOL. 2 🧡 !!

A/N: Hi, everyone!! This is my first time posting my writing on tumblr. I have thick skin so I won’t ask you to be kind or go easy on me if thats not your thing, but I would love to hear your feedback, whatever it may be! If ya’ll dig this, I may post more in the future.

Also!! The title comes from the Metallica song, but it doesn’t really have anything to do with the fic, I just thought it was fitting.

WARNINGS: This is sad, there’s no other way to put it. If you’re looking for a comfort fic, this ain't the one. It basically follows Eddie’s partner as they mourn him following the events in 4x09. Doesn’t contain explicit spoilers, per say (aka it doesn't go into detail regarding how he died, etc.) but does include some things from the episode. That being said, if you don’t want to read about death, loss and sadness, please don't read this.

It was nearing 3am when the front door opened, in walking Dustin and Steve. 

“Oh, thank god,” you exclaimed, nearly jumping on the both of them, one arm wrapped around each boy. 

After a moment, you pulled back to look at them. Someone was missing. The most important person, in your biased opinion. 

“Where’s Eddie?” You asked, the same grateful smile still plastered on your lips. 

Dustin and Steve looked at each other, defeated. 

“Dustin? Steve?” You tried again, the smile now slowly falling from your face, “Where’s Eddie?”

With a pained expression, Dustin reached deep into his jacket pocket, pulling out what you immediately recognized as Eddie’s guitar pick necklace. 

“I am so sorry, y/n,” Dustin said, holding the object out to you, his bottom lip trembling. 

It was like you went into shock. Your entire body felt cold, and you couldn’t move. A sob ripped from your lungs, causing Dustin and Steve to wince. 

“No,” you cried, “No, he’s not... he can’t be...” 

Your knees gave out, and you collapsed to the carpeted floor, head in your hands as you wailed. The breathless sobs echoed around the living room, tears soaking your t-shirt and the floor below you. 

Dustin and Steve knelt beside you, each with a hand on your back, rubbing it soothingly. 

“We wanted to save him, y/n,” Steve explained through tears of his own, “But we didn’t get to him in time.”

You looked at them, “Why weren’t you with him?!” You spat.

“I was, initially! But then he just, took off. I tried to go after him, y/n, believe me. I was just too late,” Dustin hung his head in shame. 

“He didn’t die alone, y/n,” Steve continued, “He died in Dustin’s arms. Dustin made sure he knew he was cared for. That he was loved.”

You nodded, listening intently before another round of sobs ravaged your body, causing you to curl up on the floor once again, Steve and Dustin not leaving your side. 

“I should’ve gone,” you whimpered, “If I had gone, he would still be alive.”

“You don’t know that,” Dustin said, “Please, y/n. You can’t blame yourself for this.”

You sniffled, clutching Eddie’s necklace to your chest. “Oh, Eddie,” you cried, “How could you do this to me? What am I supposed to do without you?”

-

Steve and Dustin sat with you for the next few hours as you wept. As the sun began to rise, the two of them helped you to bed, tucking you in and placing a glass of water on your bedside table. They decided to stay with you, Steve sleeping on the couch and Dustin on the floor beside him. You wouldn’t admit it in the moment, but they knew you didn’t want to be alone, plus it was now after 7am and they still hadn’t slept. 

As you lay in bed, you stared at the empty space beside you, a space that would never be filled again, Eddie’s side of the bed. It might as well have had his name stitched into the sheets. 

You lay there, running your fingers over the cool fabric, the coolest it had been in two years. You knew you shouldn’t have done it, because you regretted it immediately, but you picked up Eddie’s pillow and inhaled the remanence of his scent; apple scented shampoo, weed, tobacco, and something you couldn’t describe that was totally and completely Eddie Munson.

Eventually, you did fall asleep, still clutching that damn necklace, and of course, you dreamed of him.

[caspercryptid]

hello hello hi! i see you are taking requests and so i request a tale of viktor trying to comfort sad jayce! i am a big jayvik shipper but if u wanna write it as platonic go ham ok thank u! 🦐

2 for the price of 1 prompt fills 💜 this is. Not really platonic. College AU because.... When does Jayce leave his mom in canon, really. Like never. No content warnings.

_______

It is 3am, and someone is crying in the common room.

Viktor freezes in the doorway of the dorm’s communal kitchen, holding his hot chocolate and debating which way to sneak upstairs. He had to pass the common room to get to the elevator. And then he had to stand in front of the elevator while he waited for it, presumably in sight-line of the person crying. The stairs were not an option. But he lives on the fourth floor, maybe he could fuck his leg up, make it up one floor by sitting down and boosting himself repeatedly and then catch the elevator on the second floor. But even as he’s doing that math, he’s doing the other set of math, the why is someone crying in the common room at 3am math. It’s wednesday. They’re probably not drunk. They had to have come down in the last few minutes, while he was working on his cocoa, and he hadn’t heard the beep of the door lock, so they hadn’t come in from outside, so that made having been kicked out of their partner’s dorm room post a break-up marginally less likely. More likely to have been kicked out by a roommate for.... Crying too. Loud.

Viktor is moving before he’s fully processed that last thought, cursing himself for having backdoored himself into further sympathy.

It’s– he stops, as he realizes that his image of some marginally pathetic freshman was– well, probably only a third accurate. It’s a boy. A very....tall. Boy. at Viktor’s footsteps he lifts his tear-streaked face.

“I’m sorry.” He says, voice breaking a little. “I can leave if I'm bothering you.”

Viktor sighs. “Don’t be stupid.” He says, coming over, and offers the boy his hot chocolate. Teary eyes get blinked at him, and Viktor just pushes the mug at him a little more firmly. He takes it, looking soft and a little confused, and as he sits up Viktor sits down next to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, figuring the direct approach is the easiest.

“Oh it’s... nothing.” He says, and Viktor resists the impulse to roll his eyes.

“Clearly it isn’t. What’s your name?”

“...Jayce.”

“Alright then, Jayce.” Viktor says, leaning back into the couch. “I’m Viktor, and now we’re on a first name basis, and we aren’t strangers. That should allow you the familiarity to tell me your problems.”

Jayce snorts, and Viktor counts that as a win.

“Is that how it works?” he asks, and Viktor smiles at him a little.

“Are you going to let it work?” He asks.

“–I guess I am.”

“Do you find physical contact reassuring?” Viktor asks, mildly.

“–um, yes.”

Viktor scoots closer, leaning a little into Jayce’s side, and pushes him forward until he can get an arm around him, and to Viktor’s only slight surprise, he immediately melts, moving to put his face in Viktor’s shoulder. Viktor rubs his back, waiting to feel trapped or uncomfortable, but it doesn’t come. He just feels...oddly warm. There’s something soothing about being able to offer comfort effectively. He’s not usually in this position.

“–um, I miss my mom.” Jayce says, quietly. His voice gets quieter by the word, like he’s embarrassed of admitting it, and he hides his face more in Viktor’s shirt, words muffled. “It’s just that i’ve never really been away from her for that long. I know it’s– i’m an adult and I shouldn’t–”

“It’s alright to be homesick.” Viktor murmurs, cutting him off before he can spiral too far. “Regardless of what home means to you. It’s okay.”

“I just feel like I shouldn’t–”

“That’s not how feelings work.” Viktor cuts him off, firmly. “You simply feel how you feel. There is no shouldn’t. You can tell the sky it shouldn’t be raining all you want. It won’t stop it raining.”

“My roommate told me I–”

“I think if someone was mean to you you shouldn’t tell me right now.” Viktor says, gently, reaching up to pet Jayce’s hair. “I will get angry and then I will be less effective at comforting you.”

Jayce laughs a little bit into Viktor’s shoulder and that sound seems to cover it up as the elevator door opens. Viktor makes eye contact with a wide-eyed senior girl. Jayce continues sniffling, not noticing.

“The protective fury is kind of nice.” he says, and Viktor makes a noncommittal hum and just glares at the girl, who mouths sorry and does her best to surreptitiously hit the door close button again, rapid fire a few times like she’s willing it to close faster.

Viktor starts talking purely to cover up the sound of the doors closing shut so Jayce doesn’t notice.

“You seem very... sweet tempered.” He says, “And you ought to feel safe enough to cry in your own room and not have to move to the common room because someone wouldn’t let you have your own space.”

“Well, I met you, so I guess it didn’t turn out too bad.” Jayce mumbles, and the girl on the elevator’s eyes get very wide as the doors slide shut, and Viktor puts his fingers in Jayce’s hair and scratches his scalp to distract him.

“–I suppose not.” He allows. “...You know, I don’t have a roommate. You could come up with me. Remove the risk of anyone else coming along less likely to be inclined to hug you while you’re crying.”

Jayce pulls back, sniffling, eyes red, and without thinking about it, Viktor reaches out to wipe his cheeks. Jayce tips his face into the contact, and he’s so pretty, and Viktor’s heart does something stupid. Oh. Oh no.

“Are you sure I’m not bothering you?” Jayce asks, softly, and Viktor swallows hard.

“Don’t insult me by implying I'm not fully capable of making my own decisions.” he says, imperiously, and Jayce snorts again, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh, of course not.” he says. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Grab your cocoa.” Viktor says, gently pushing him back. “Let's go.”

“Yessir.” Jayce mumbles, and Viktor breathes through it.

Oh, he’s in trouble.