#though it took me actually drawing them to realize they don’t have noses-

[alish-artie]

I have caught up on Spooky month's episodes and lore, and it inspired me to make some drawings !

(Mostly about the last episode haha, I really liked it !)

[jkoo-njoo]

college crush - 4

summary : college au l when the frontier between a crush and an obsession blurs, how can you draw the line?

pairing : shy n clingy bf! jk × black fem! reader

genre : fluff, soft yandere | headcanons

word count : 3980, on going story

warnings : a bit angsty in the beginning with very harsh self-talk, description of self-neglect and implication of suicidal thoughts because Jungkook has low self-esteem

author's note : thank you so much @armydgirl for commenting “I need more of this” under the last chapter because it motivated me to finish this in like 2 days when I’ve been stuck on this for months. I’m really thankful for everyone who’s been reading this story so far ! There is one last chapter left. What do you think will happen ? (∩˃o˂∩) enjoy my loves and as always, all comments are well appreciated ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა ₊˚⊹♡

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4/ when imagination and reality combines, your dreams come true

- No-thing : there is no good or bad

The morning after you received the apology letter from your secret admirer, and now intruder, you were feeling pretty excited

It’s like their morbid obsession rubbed off on you and you were kind of starting to feel the same ? towards them ?

Was it ok though… to feel this way. You didn’t know

Anyways !

Even though it sounds like you are not making much sense, you’ve had a very fulfilling sleep actually

And it is now time to tackle the daily tasks your world awaits from you : attend classes, study and work

Before leaving you remember to put up the little surprise for your admirer

You already prepared the note in response to their apology letter the night before, so you just install it evidently in the middle of your main table with a glass of water

(you figured since you want them to clean your place they will be thirsty afterwards — hence the water)

Then you attended to your occupations

With an intrigued heart beating hard in your chest from anticipation, and a slight smile on your face

- Any-thing : signs follow, they do not precede

Because Jungkook didn’t have class this morning but he knew you did, he decided to pay you a visit

This visit is special : it is the first one in a few weeks, right after the apology letter

For some context…. it was not looking good for him. Like, he’s been going through a very tough period

When he took the hoodie with him on his last visit, he felt so proud of himself for having the courage to take a piece of you and bring it back to his home

He has never felt this euphoric

He would put the hoodie up to his nose and smell it to ingrain your body odor in his brain

He would wear it to bed and hug himself imagining it was you cuddling him with your arms circling around his waist and messaging his back to soothe him

The euphoria lasted a few days

He didn’t even go back to your place or send letters in the meantime like,,, he was fully satiated

Then your sent started to fade away progressively and he figured he needed to go back to your place

But he realized that… you were kind of actively using this hoodie. You must have noticed it was gone

What if you knew it was him ? What if you were hating him for stealing something from you ?

In his defense, it wasn’t exactly stealing because he planned on putting it back

He wanted to put his scent on it and give it back to you, so you could get intoxicated about him the same way he was about you

But his doubts and insecurities started eating him alive

“What if she thinks you stink ? She would never accept back a hoodie from a dirty man.”

“Scratch that : she would never accept the hoodie back from you at all, because she hates you.”

“You broke into her home so many times and stole from her. Don’t you think there’s consequences to your actions ?

“Karma exists and she’s out to get you”

“Don’t even think you have a chance with her anymore. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t love you and never will again.”

“Hell, I’m sure she forgot you since you don’t even send letters anymore.”

“You’re nothing but a fleeting bad memory, plaguing her brain.”

“Stay away from her, you monster.”

The mental self-harm was so harsh, he absolutly didn’t leave his room anymore

Not to study, not to work — not even to eat

He didn’t go to photography class anymore because he couldn’t even have the guts to face you after all this

He felt so so bad for so long

At some point, he was truly starting to decay and felt like he wanted to see you one last time before dying.

So, he showered for the first time in like a week

Dressed up in all black, popped on a large black bob

And went out, looking for you

It was something like 2 PM on a Wednesday

According to your schedule, you were supposed to be at the campus library studying a bit before your afternoon classes

And like clockwork, right after entering the library, he spotted you from afar

You were at the very end of the long hall, sitting alone with your books and your computer.

Your back was facing him so you couldn’t notice him staring at you with tears in his eyes

How could he let himself rot away when you were the light he needed in his life ?

How could he leave you this way when you needed him to protect, love and provide for you ?

It was inconceivable that he wasn’t taking care of you anymore, and that he even entertained the idea of never doing it ever again

He needed to bounce back immediately.

So, he sprinted back to his place,

Shuffled through his desk to grab a piece of paper and a pen,

And got to work.

He was still crying uncontrollably while trying to put his thoughts onto the paper

After 3 crappy letters and lots of crossed-out sentences, he figured he needed to calm down in order to properly deliver the best piece of literature ever

The one letter that could melt the heart of a statue and that will recover your relationship, without a doubt.

That’s when he came up with the apology letter you received.

Shortly after writing it, he decided on an express delivery to your place,

So you could read it and contemplate on his fate during the night or whatever

And while you do that, he would come the next day bearing gifts :

a brand new hoodie to replace the old one, a flower bouquet to decorate your house and give you a piece of himself and some of your favorite fruits to nourish your tummy and your soul

Their job was to make you realize that he was very serious about this relationship with you.

To remove any doubts about taking him back into your life

This was his plan, and to him it was infaillible.

Fast forward to today

There he was, in front of your door, with his arms full of gifts for you, and on the verge of throwing up and pissing himself on the spot

He waited there a good 10 minutes until someone across the corridor unlocked their door to come out of their room.

Since the last thing he wanted to do was get caught, he hurried inside your place.

He closed his eyes, and almost started to hyperventilate but he managed to calm himself down.

One — inhale… exhale

Two — inhale… exhale

Three — inhale….

On the exhale, he slowly opened his eyes and was greeted by the silence and stillness of your room.

He felt so at ease, so happy to be back — where he belongs.

After a few more seconds in contentment, he decided to install his things and get back out

But as he emptied his arms onto the table, he noticed you left a note on it

He wasn’t sure if it was for yourself or for him, so he took it out of pure curiosity

Upon reading it, his heart almost jumped out of his chest

It was your answer to the apology letter.

You responded to him !!!!

Oh my God.

You finally acknowledged him

AND you deliberately wanted him to alter your living space to clean and order your things

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

This was a gift from God

He was so happy, he fell down on his knees and held the note right over his heart

After getting down from the high, he arranged his gifts onto your table and got to work.

He never cleaned a place this meticulously in his entire life

This was almost cathartic

Like he was cleaning his sins away and prepping for a squeaky clean new slate for your relationship to start again from

When he was done he felt very proud of himself and was so happy to have been able to tremendously help you for something you needed

He didn’t plan on writing anything because he didn’t expect you to answer to him ;

But since you did, and he executed your request, he took a piece of paper and one of your cute bullet pens to write back to you :

“I cleaned your whole entire place just as you asked, my princess. I will always do absolutely everything that you ever request from me, with immeasurable joy and love every single time. I can’t wait until I can permanently take care of you and provide for you at all times. I can’t wait until the day I can hold you close in my arms, look straight into your gorgeous sparkling irises and tell you that I live for you, for you are my entire life. I bought you a new hoodie as I promised. I also bought some beautiful scented flowers and your favorite fruits. Please accept all of this as a proof of my endless unconditional love for you. Take care of yourself my angel, and never forget that you are the light that guides me through darkness. If you ever need me again, I’ll always be right here. — your secret admirer”

He has to physically contain himself from taking anything before leaving

But it’s less difficult than last time, because he never felt so fulfilled in his entire life

He realized that he feels the most joyful and alive when he does things for you.

He is now convinced that he truly lives for you, and that you are promised to him.

After a long and exhausting day, you finally went home.

The excitement and curiosity was eating you alive.

Did they come today ? Did they notice the little note ? Did they clean the house ?

You were truly hoping that they did come, and that if they did, they didn’t ignore you, because that would be sad.

As you open the door, you immediately notice how your room smells fresh and fruity

A quick look around reveals that your room is very much clean, as if it had been ran over by a cleaning crew

But the most surprising thing is the pile of stuff on your table

There were : a new and very cool hoodie, apples raisins and peaches, and a large bouquet of flowers with a very sweet scent.

You were filled with glee and contentment

This is the confirmation that this really isn’t a prank by your friends, but that there is truly someone out there that is invested in you

That is so cute ?!

You are so caught up with all of these gifts and new realizations that you almost don’t notice the letter

A new letter from your secret admirer !!!

This is a gift from God

After reading it… you feel like crying.

Nobody ever made you feel this way. Nobody ever went out of their way to make sure that you were good, that you had everything you needed, that you were taking care of yourself.

To have someone you don’t even know care that much…. is something indescribable.

You couldn’t not develop some feelings back for them, even if you wanted to

They were becoming a constant presence in your life and you truly didn’t want it to stop.

This night, you both fell asleep under the same sky, and asking the same stars to reunite you, for you belonged together.

- Some-thing : flowers bloom, even in concrete

The next morning, Jungkook is going to the local cafe for his occasional dose of caffeine, when he sees something that makes him stop dead in his tracks.

You are walking around the campus, with the brand new hoodie he gave you just the day before.

You must have felt his eyes bore holes into your sides, because you turn around and look right into his eyes.

Realizing you’ve met eyes with the cute nerdy guy from photography class, you politely smile and wave your hand at him

Then, you keep going your way, oblivious about what you’ve caused

He could only instinctively wave back at you with a shy smile

He keeps staring at you walking with a bouncy and bright demeanor until you are out of sight

This whole encounter is so overwhelming to him that he has to rush to the nearest campus toilet

He just saw the literal [love of his life] walk around outside with something he choose specifically for her and smile at him.

You were accepting and proudly using his gifts for you. His proof of his love for you.

It is the absolute and ultimate proof that you are also totally in love with him

He could not contain his emotions even if he tried to. It was too much

So, he locks himself inside a toilet to hide his boner and cry from joy

He is as hard as he is happy. This is everything to him.

Literally all of his dreams are coming true.

So, he decides that from now on, he’ll send you more gifts and love letters than ever

Because he just cannot get over the fact that he can send you stuff and you will just… use them ??

Absolutely crazy and groundbreaking.

The next few weeks, on top of following you everywhere and taking pictures of you, he started stalking you on social media

If he felt like a pretty discrete and laid back admirer before, he definitely feels like a total stalker now

But he isn’t a creep, and you’re receptive to his moves. So it’s not bad, right ?

Anyways

He was mainly in search of a potential wishlist you posted or some posts where you expressed your interest in something

He has bookmarked almost all your “I want this 😖” & “I wish 😿” tweets

Each time he would find a post of you wanting anything, ranging from :

New clothes or cute jewelry to plushies plants and books,

He would buy it and deliver it to your place with an affirming love note attached

Saying stuff like :

“you deserve everything that you ever want and need my love”

or :

“as long as I’m alive, rest easy and know that you will always be taken care of”

But, he also had his own wishlist of stuff he wanted to offer to you

Recently, he bought a cute platted skirt that would would perfectly hug your waist and make your legs stand out — in his opinion — just because he thought it would fit your style

(and it did)

He had tons of carts scattered everywhere on the internet, even on lingerie websites,

Not because he wanted to see you in them but because he wanted you to feel good, comfortable and valued in your own body

Ok he’s obsessed with you but. He’s still an asexual

Talking about that, he is not worried about his sexuality, in fact he is so grateful he fell for you because your were so open and accepting

He overheard you talking about never feeling like anyone would love you just for you, and being scared of being used for your body and never finding true love

That there are multiple ways to love others, and that a relationship shouldn’t revolve around sex

He knew that he had all of his chances and he was the absolute best candidate that met all your standards and that could please and fulfill you in the right way.

Also, he doubled the amount of time he spent at your place

(behind your back, as always)

With each visit, he brings your favorite fruits and sometimes restocks your fridge and cupboards if he sees you’re running out of everything

How does he even manage to finance this lifestyle, you ask ?

Well, do you remember: he is a talented photographer.

He was booked and busy before, but retired when he started college due to lack of time and the loss of all the passion and drive necessary to keep up that kind of side hustle

Now that his passion and drive was back — all thanks to you — He started selling his services as a photographer and as a video editor again.

And he was making bank !

You are such a blessing in his life, he will never be thankful enough for your existence.

You were creating all these opportunities for his to grow as a person and improve his life, it was crazy how he changed so much in so little time.

And to recap the state of The Plan ™️ : he’s making Big Moves.

He was slowly but steadily becoming a known and stable occurrence in your life

Half of the plushies you owned were bought by him.

Some of the coolest clothes and shoes and jewelry : bought by him.

The books that you were obsessed about recently ? You guessed it, bought by him.

Even the only pieces of lingerie you had were bought by him.

He was nourishing your body and nurturing your heart.

Seeing you walk around campus proudly while constantly wearing the very outfits Jungkook once daydreamed about has been an insane experience

Knowing that you were eating the food he bought for you and consuming the letters he kept writing and gifting to you….

(he still checked your bins regularly to make sure you were still accepting him)

It made him feel immense pride and contentment.

He was at his peak in terms of interaction in his life right now.

He never made it this far in a relationship

And he knew he wanted more ; but he didn’t want to burn his wings by flying too high too fast.

He knew that patience was key

And he was right because eventually, you were the one to cross the bridge.

- Every-thing : no matter what happens, the universe expands and time flows

One day, you left a note asking for the number of your secret admirer.

It was random, truly, because you usually never answer to their letters directly.

Sure, you would stick a post-it sometimes suggesting a new type of fruit for them to bring to your place for you to try

Or expressing appreciation for an item they bought you recently and that you really enjoy

But it was still very scattered and anecdotical

So much that Jungkook cherished each and every note of yours in a special binder — and if he could frame them he would.

All that to say : that day was different.

You felt it in the air

It’s been 3 months now since the secret admirer thing has started to be pretty serious… with the admiration.

But at this point, you wanted more.

Did you want attention ? distraction ?… love ?

You couldn’t pinpoint a specific need, and you didn’t know exactly what were your motivations ; but you knew something was missing.

Also you needed an answer to your never ending questions

Who are they ? What are they passionate about ? How do they envision their future ?

…Why you ?

Interrogations and curiosity bubbled in your mind like a bottle of sparkling water

You pondered for quite some time about the way you would go to reach your goal

Should you :

ask them to take you on a date, or

invite them over for dinner at your place, or

go to the cinemas with them, or

have a picnic in a park with them, or…..??

The thing is : every option seemed dangerous, especially because you actually didn’t know a single thing about them

Sure, as of now they’ve never attempted to hurt you and they claim to love you much more than life itself

But. You weren’t reckless nonetheless and you’ve watched too much true crime documentaries to even entertain these ideas

So you settled on a post-it note with “can I have the number of my secret admirer, so I can admire them too ?” written on it

Simple is king !

You went to sleep that night with a knot in your stomach and your heart beating loud in your chest as if it were the day before a final exem

The next day, Jungkook entered your place bearing gifts as always without expecting a thing

While checking around as usual, he noticed the post-it on the door of your fridge asking for his number

… Huh ?!

He literally froze in disbelief and read it over and over again to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

How come you were asking for his number. His. number.

The plan was working like a charm in such a way that he would’ve never expected in a million years

This was so much more than what he could’ve ever asked for

He did try to think about how to make a move to get closer to you ; but he didn’t feel ready yet and wanted to wait more

And now, you’re the one who decided to take matters into your own hands and accelerate everything

It was absolutely crazy

You. wanted. HIM.

Well… not really exactly him

In fact, he noticed you used non-gendered pronouns to address him and realized that you barely knew anything about him

Progressively, he got down from his high and he wiped the tears that fell from his eyes unbeknownst to him

He did want to give you his number, but… the group project in photography class was coming sooner or later and he didn’t want you to connect the dots just yet

He decided to buy a new SIM card from which he will text you

So, he wrote you back immediatly, telling you to wait for him to be ready for you and that he’ll give it to you soon.

A few days later, he came back and instead of delivering the usual LLOTD [love letter of the day] he wrote a note specifically to answer the number question

"Looking at the crescent moon, I see your face in its bright pure aura. Knowing that eventually its going to become a full moon lighting up the sky during the night, like your beautiful face lights up my life each time I look at you, makes me realize I love looking forward to the future only when I know you're going to be in it."

At the end of the poem, he wrote his special number with a heart next to his usual "— your secret admirer" signature

He went back to his place being very much full of glee, and eager to get a response from you.

When you got home from class, you saw his note and your belly immediately filled up with butterflies

Finally, it was time.

Seeing your emotional reaction to their answer you knew you did the right thing

You were going to get your answers to the many questions you've been asking yourself

But, more importantly, you were going to get closer to them.

You pondered for a long time before decinding on what to text them

You wanted to try and write a poem for them too but you felt like you couldn't match their skill and profoundence of their words just yet

You settled on :

"Hey ^^ this is [y/n]. Thank you for giving me your number ! I can't wait to get to know more about you"

Little did you know that… the best was yet to come.

[dichromaticdyke]

@plvtosun drew devon because she's a sweetheart and so here's a payback fic 😘

hope i did a good job with blanquita i love her so much i'm halfway through Selenicerus

The girl with blue hair had been sitting at the bar for a while, anxiously scribbling away at her notepad. Devon had been keeping an eye on her, wondering if she’d ever actually order anything. The bar wasn’t busy, it was still early enough in the evening before all that, so they could manage feasibly manage one loiterer up here.

Still— “Look, I don’t mind if you draw up here, but can I at least see some ID first?” they asked, putting their hand on the table, as close to the girl’s sketchpad as they could get without actually touching it.

Her eyes peeked up through her bangs, and she blinked up at them a couple times. “’m twenty-three,” she mumbled, eyes turning down a bit.

“I’m sure you are. I’d like to see that on ID, though.”

She blushed, a ghost of a pout on her face, before sitting up a bit. Devon could get a partial glance of her sketch now, but they tried not to pry. She pulled out her wallet, throwing her ID onto the bar. “There.” She was really turning away from Devon now, as they picked it up to double check the birth date and validity of the card. She tapped her pen against her sketchbook until Devon handed the card back.

“Okay, Blanca,” they said, “can I getcha anything while you’re here at least?”

She pressed her lips together, squirming a bit. “I dunno. Just something fruity.”

They took one look at her stark blue hair and smirked. “I think I got just the thing for ya.”

“Alright. Thanks.” She returned to her sketching, again keeping her head down.

Devon didn’t mind quiet patrons, and sometimes it was easier that way. But she’d recognized Blanca’s name—how could she not when that name had been listed as the artist of Dethklok’s last few album covers? They desperately wanted to pick her brain, to see if she was working on something else for the band, but instead they casually slid her a Blue Hawaiian.

It took her a few moments to realize her drink had been delivered to her. But when she did, she let out a bit of a scoff. “On the nose,” she muttered.

“I can make ya something else—“

“No! No, it’s fine.” She pulled it closer to her sipping from it idly as she drew.

“Well, good.” They watched as her posture straightened a bit, the drawing becoming a bit more visible. It looked like something with horns and sunken eyes, doodles at the corners that seemed to resemble cartoony ghosts. “So it’s comin’ along?”

“Huh?”

“Your piece.” He gestured to the drawing. “Lookin’ alright to my eye.”

She scrambled to pull the sketchpad back towards her. “It’s not ready, don’t be looking at it!”

“Sorry—”

“I’m already not supposed to let too many people outside of Mordhaus see it before it’s ready, okay?” She let out a frustrated huff. “I just…wanted a change of scenery to inspire me, but I think this was a mistake. How much do I owe you?”

“Uh, Blanca—”

“You’re right, I’ll just put it on Toki’s tab.” She slid off the barstool, but not before Devon barked out a laugh.

“Oh. Toki’s tab? Why not all of Dethklok?”

At that comment, Blanca’s face turned redder than her lipstick, and she looked up at Devon while sputtering. “I—! I meant all of Dethklok. Just because I said that baboso’s name doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh really?” They chuckled again. “You have a pet name for him, and it doesn’t mean anything?”

“What? No! It’s not a pet name. Just stop it, okay? I gotta go, just lemme pay—”

“Yo entiendo, no te preocupes. Es gratís.”

Blanca paused, squinting her eyes at Devon, placing her hand back on the barstool. “¿Habla español?”

“Un poco. Mi primera novia fue puertorriqueña. Pero creo que baboso se dice algo más, ¿no?” They smirked. “I won’t bother ya if you wanna stay, promise. Though I do also have quite a few stories of Toki actin’ a fool while he’s sloppy drunk.”

“I don’t care about that!” Blanca proclaimed as she took her seat back at the bar. “But…thanks.”

“No problem. Just make yourself comfortable—“ As they were making this standard offer, they picked up Blanca’s Blue Hawaiian. They made to hand it to her, not noticing as she picked up her sketchbook to adjust its position. In this shifting of movement, the glass knocked into Blanca’s hand, and Devon lost their grip just momentarily.

Momentarily enough for the blue cocktail to spill all over the sketchbook and Blanca’s lap. “¡Chingao!”

“Fuck— Blanca, I’m so sorry!” they cried as they grabbed their towel, pulling the liquid back towards the bar. They considered grabbing her sketchbook and trying to see if they could get that dried off too, but Blanca was frozen in fury. “Shit. I’ll get you a new sketchbook— I’ll fuckin’, I dunno, I’ll—“

“Wow,” she said, her voice quiet and shaking, but still maintaining a dry level to it. “Well. This is fuckin’ great.” She took in a deep inhale. “What was your name?

She winced. “Devon.”

Blanca slammed her wet, now-ocean-blue sketchbook on the counter. “Devon, I spent a week on that sketch. A week for Dethklok, and that was hell enough, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. I’m sure you never see them when they’re drunk or angry or crazy.” She pressed her shaking hand to her forehead. “But. Fuck, y’know what? I probably would have scrapped that fuckin’ drawing when I was done. Would have thrown away a whole month’s worth of work.”

“Oh. You’re welcome?”

“Oh yeah, because getting the choice taken away from me of whether or not I’d finish it is way better.” She was still angry, still spitting sarcasm at Devon, as she stood up, grabbing cocktail napkins from over the bar to wipe across her wet lap. “I’m gonna need another drink. Or four.”

Devon let out a breathy, nervous chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, whaddya want?”

“Just a shot of tequila.”

“Just a shot of tequila?” They chucked. “Sure you can handle it?”

“I’ve had tequila shots before.” She let out a small huff. “And I don’t think you wanna piss me off even more right now.”

“Alright, alright. You got a preference, then?”

“Silver Patrón. Straight.”

“Boring, but alright.” They grabbed the bottle, pouring two shots of tequila and sliding one to Blanca. “Enjoy,” he said, pulling his own shot glass back and grabbing a lime wedge and salt shaker.

Blanca stared at Devon curiously. “Should you be drinking on the job?”

“I always share the first tequila shot of the night.” They sprinkled a bit of salt on their hand. “Besides, I happen to know for a fact your baboso and his band are coming in later tonight, they called ahead asking to reserve the dining room. I gotta be ready.”

At that comment, Blanca’s frown turned to an expression that more closely resembled resigned acceptance. “Please don’t say anything about me in front of him,” she mumbled.

“There’s nothin’ to say, hon. Don’t worry.” She tapped her shot glass against Blanca’s before tipping it back. Blanca slammed her own empty shot glass down before Devon finished their shot, and she looked at them with a small smirk. With a laugh, he refilled her glass. “At least ya got good taste in music,” he said, gesturing to her Children of Bodom hoodie.

“I know it.” She hid her own half smile behind her second shot.

[firstkanaphans]

#H…hear me out…Nick and Boston huddling for warmth?

The way I cackled when I got this prompt, but you were absolutely right. It does suit them. I hope you enjoy 💛 Word Count: 1549

[H]uddling for warmth::

Where was the goddamn ice? If Boston had been in charge of this godforsaken party, there would have at least been enough ice. He peeked around the bar, hoping there might be a stash hidden away there, but there was nothing. His patience with this night was wearing very thin.

“Hey, Ton!” At the sound of the familiar voice, Boston closed his eyes and took a deep breath to settle his nerves. When he opened them, there was Nick. He was dressed as Detective Conan and the costume suited him. In glasses, Nick looked young and naive and eager. If they had still been fucking, Boston would have enjoyed stripping the costume off of him at the end of the night, painting his body with kisses, making him squirm anyway he possibly could—all while still wearing those goddamn glasses. But they weren’t fucking because Nick had betrayed his trust, so instead he looked away before his desire could show on his face. “Ton, hey! Did you hear me? How are you? Enjoying the party?”

Boston clenched his teeth. Seriously? He was just going to pretend like nothing had happened? Like he hadn’t completely violated Boston’s privacy—and then done it again?

And why was there no fucking ice? Screw it. He would just go get it himself.

He pushed past Nick, heading towards the kitchen, hoping Nick might take the hint and leave him alone, but instead Nick followed him.

“Oh, where are we going? I started a new internship, you know. With a senior from school and—”

There was a piece of paper on the kitchen door denoting that the room was off-limits—probably because Ray’s father had just spent an obscene amount of money stocking it with the professional equipment needed to feed a whole hostel—but Boston ignored the warning and stepped inside. Immediately, he was enveloped in a blissful quiet. Well, except for Nick. Who was still talking.

The industrial-sized freezer was at the very back of the room. Boston yanked the door open and stepped inside as an almost unbearable cold washed over him. He’d helped Mew stock this same freezer a few weeks back and although they had been wearing literal parkas at the time, he had been miserable. He hated being cold. But he would only be in here for a second. The bags of ice were right inside the door.

He bent down to grab one as Nick followed him into the freezer. He realized what was about to happen a split second before it did.

“Wait, no! Don’t shut the—” The freezer door slammed shut. Boston heaved a heavy sigh. “Door.”

“Oh, sorry,” Nick said, turning. “I’ll just…” But when he yanked on the door handle, it wouldn’t budge. His eyes widened in alarm.

“It jams,” Boston snapped and even though he knew it wasn’t Nick’s fault, he was still angry.

“Okay,” Nick said. “Well let’s just call someone then. Do you have your phone?”

Boston looked down at his skin-tight pants. “Does it look like I could fit a phone in here?”

Nick followed his gaze and stared at the pants for just a second too long. Boston had to let out a growl to draw his attention back to the matter at hand. “We’ll just use mine then,” Nick said, reaching for his pocket. But then, with his hand halfway there, he froze.

“What?” Boston asked.

Nick winced. “I left it in the car.”

For the first time, Boston actually began to worry. The chill from the freezer was so strong that the tip of his nose was starting to go numb. “So we’re just stuck in here?”

Simultaneously, they both turned towards the door and began banging on it—yelling and screaming, hoping someone might hear them—but no one came. The music was too loud. They were too far away from the crowd. Eventually, Boston gave up and sat down on the icy cold floor. After a few seconds, Nick did the same, sitting down across from him.

“Are we going to die in here?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Boston rolled his eyes. “We’re not going to die.” Someone would find them. Surely someone would find them. 

Every minute that passed felt like an hour. Their breath fogged up in front of their faces and they were both shivering, but Boston at least, had the luxury of being fully clothed. Nick was wearing shorts. And although Boston didn’t want to care, he did.

“Come here,” he said, holding his arm out for Nick to join him. Nick looked at him in shock, clearly surprised by the kindness, but he didn’t give Boston a chance to change his mind. He scooted over to him, pressed his body into Boston’s side, and tucked his face into his neck.

After the initial shock of cold skin subsided, it actually felt nice to have him so close. Boston ran his hands up and down Nick’s arms, trying to warm him—trying to warm them both. Trying not to think about how much it hurt to hold him in his arms as if nothing had changed.

“Thank you,” Nick said into his throat and then he sat and looked Boston in the eye. Boston quickly looked away. Nick was too earnest. It was hard to stay mad at him when he looked at him like that. “Listen, Ton. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. The wiretap was a bad idea—but in my defense, I didn’t think I would actually find anything. I thought I could just use it to reassure myself that nothing was going on between you and Top and then everything would be fine.”

Boston tensed and although he wanted to push Nick away, he also didn’t. 

“No one else was ever supposed to hear it,” Nick continued, his teeth chattering around his words. “I was going to destroy it—I swear I was—but I got upset and I told Sand and then everything just spiraled out of control. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You have to believe me.”

“If you didn’t mean to hurt me, then why did you tell Mew about Gap?” It was the thing that had been bothering Boston the most. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that video Mew had shown him and it made him feel sick. When he found out that video existed—that his own pleasure was being used against him—he had felt so violated. And then to find out that Nick had done the exact same thing…

“I thought that if Mew could steal the video from Gap, I’d be able to steal it from him,” Nick said. “Gap knows that me and you were a thing, but I thought Mew might be able to get closer to him. And if I could get the video from Mew, then it would be gone. Forever.”

Boston turned to him in shock. He was starting to think he didn’t know Nick at all. But he was also starting to think that maybe he liked this Nick better. Maybe he hadn’t given him enough credit.

“What are you thinking?” Nick asked.

“I’m mad,” Boston said and the emotion combined with the cold sent a full body shiver through him. “And I’m really fucking cold.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Nick said again.

“I just…I trusted you!” Boston cried, allowing the anger to warm him. “I was starting to want more with you. God, I was so stupid. This is why I don’t date!”

“You weren’t stupid,” Nick said and then he reached for Boston’s face. His fingertips felt like icicles and yet the touch wasn’t unwelcome. “Hey, look at me. You weren’t stupid. I was stupid. Me.”

Boston wasn’t sure if it was the sincerity in his eyes or the costume glasses or the threat of imminent death, but suddenly he wanted to kiss him. So he did. It had been too long. Nick tangled his fingers in Boston’s hair and kissed him back and Boston was pretty sure he would have kept kissing him until they literally died if Boston hadn’t stopped them.

“I need some time,” he said.

Nick nodded. “Yes, of course. Take whatever time you need. I—”

He was interrupted by the freezer door being wrenched open. Sand was standing on the other side looking annoyed. Boston was so shocked by the interruption that for a second, he didn’t move. 

“I’m here to rescue you,” Sand said in a bored drawl. 

Boston sprang up and rushed out of the freezer. Immediately, warmth washed over him. He wasn’t going to die. How exciting. 

“I need liquor,” he said, wandering over to the pantry. He found some, took a swig, and then turned back to find Nick staring at him, his arms wrapped around himself tightly as if to conserve body heat.

“I’ll talk to you later?” he asked hopefully. Boston didn’t have the heart to tell him no.

“I fucking guess.”

Nick smiled and then turned to leave with Sand and it was only as he was walking away that Boston caught sight of a cell phone in his back pocket. It didn’t make him mad. He smirked and took another swig of the whiskey, letting it warm him from the inside out.

For the Fluff Prompt ABCs

[chitsuu]

OC Kiss Week 2024: Rain

Still doing this little challenge this week, since I didn't manage to do it all last week, with my FFXIV character and his husband (@kitshunette’s son)!

Also, I’m not much of a writer, but I decided to write a little something for each drawing, little windows in their story (which is also why I’m using the @ockissweek prompt list but not in order)

I actually got overly excited over this one, even though this is not a paper made for very detailed illustration and I wanted to keep things simple,,,,, but it took form under my eyes and I couldn't stop,,,,,,

Eli decided he did not like the rain.

He frowned, glaring at the window of his bedroom, where he could see the heavy pouring that was currently taking place outside. It had been raining without a moment of rest since yesterday’s first light, and it showed no sign of stopping. Eli dramatically sighed. He was supposed to be on a date this evening, and yet he was stuck in his room - well, more accurately, in his bed. Apparently going out under the rain in a cropped vest and shorts was incompatible with the concept of being healthy, and he had caught a nasty cold.

He shivered a little, and concluded that since his night was ruined, he might as well give up and transform himself into a burrito. Just as he finished wrapping his long limbs inside the warm blanket, he heard a little rasp against his door.

“You can come in.”, he grumbled.

It was either his big sister coming to offer him some medicine, or her wife, who would never pass out the opportunity of snatching the warm cup of milk that was on his bedside table.

Except it was neither of them, and a much taller shape appeared at the door frame, hovering anxiously.

“Shashahua told me you caught a cold, and that you were stuck in bed. I wanted to check on you, are you feeling better?”, the blue haired man asked, a worried look on his face.

Eli felt a rush of very different emotions all at once. Happiness at seeing the familiar face of his now boyfriend. Embarrassment from getting sick just before their date. Flattered that he would still come to see him. Relief that his nose had stopped producing indecent amounts of snot a bit earlier in the afternoon. Mortified that he was currently looking like some kind of giant slug.

He coughed a little, hoping to distract Jisul while he tried to smoothly move the blanket around so that he would not look like he was being eaten by it.

“I’m feeling better this morning. You didn’t have to come you know?”, Eli started then promptly added, “No that’s not it, I’m actually really happy you’re here. Thank you.”

He could feel his face flaring up, and hoped the Au Ra would mistake it for the fever. Why did he have to be like that?

Jisul beamed, and Eli belatedly realized he had come all the way to his bedside. He scooted over a little, a shy unspoken invitation. An invitation promptly accepted, as his boyfriend sat next to him on the bed, looking a bit pink at the cheeks.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t go on our date. I know you wanted to see the Starlight festivities, and I wanted to see them with you too.”, Jisul said in a small voice.

He looked really dejected, as if the weather was somehow something he could have prevented. Well, knowing him, if he could do it for Eli, he would. And Eli would do the same.

The Elezen reached a hand outside the blanket, and took Jisul’s hand in his.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that. We can always see them later,” Eli softly said, “or even next year.”

Pulling the hand towards him, he gave it a gentle kiss. Speaking of future dates gave him butterflies, and he tried his best to stay casual. They started dating not so long ago after all, and even though they had a crush on each other for the longest time, at least according to his big sister and her wife, wasn’t he being a bit forward?

“Sounds good to me. Next year and the following years to come would be nice.”

Eli’s heart made a somersault. Jisul was looking at him with crescent eyes, full of a confident love. When their eyes met, they both blushed before turning slightly away, overwhelmed by the sudden confession.

“I should go”, Jisul started after a few moments of comfortable silence, “you need to rest more-”

“Can’t you stay a little?”

Eli was actually not ready to let him go, even though he was indeed starting to feel tired and in need of a nap.

“Please. Until I fall asleep?”, he pleaded.

As if pleading was necessary, considering Jisul had not even made the slightest movement to remove himself from the bed.

“Can I? What about your sister?”

The Au Ra looked a bit intimidated at the idea of getting told off by the Lalafell.

Eli chuckled.

“It’s fine. She and Sisi are probably expecting you to stay so they don’t have to worry about me.”

And so they can tease me come tomorrow.

Jisul laughed a little, and opened his arms. Eli found himself wrapped in a soft embrace and snuggled closer to his boyfriend’s chest. The Au Ra was more on the cold side in terms of body heat, but it balanced nicely with the warmth from the blanked and his fever.

“Should I sing you a lullaby?”

“Hm.”

Eli closed his eyes, unable to fight the drowsiness, as Jisul started to sing a soft ballad in Xaela.

Eli decided he liked the rain a little after all.

[thepenultimateword]

Biggest Fan Part Two

Part One

“Wow.” Villain stared in awe at the swoops and curls inked up the bottom corner of their Hero trading card, then catching the slack hang of their jaw quickly cleared their throat. “I like your signature.”

Hero ducked their head sheepishly as they slid their fountain pen back into their front pocket. They'd always looked good in uniform, but that was nothing compared to how they looked in a partially undone white button-down.

“Thank you. It took me a little while to perfect.”

Why were they acting nervous? Villain was the one who should be thanking the stars and devoting the rest of their life to charity for being allowed this moment. They had half-expected Hero not to show up at all. All week they'd agonized over the thought of the hero coming across their identity by accident. Or worse, that maybe they'd known all along and put together this meeting as a set-up, heroes stationed behind the vine-twined pergola and grassy garden boxes while officers secretly lined the stairwell, ready to ambush at a moment's notice. Though, seeing how it'd been over 15 minutes and no one had beaten the snot out of them yet, they were probably safe.

"Can you sign mine now?" Hero ventured, fingers hesitating over their jeans pocket.

"Riiight," Villain said, smiling against the throbbing thud of their heart beating out their chest. "My custom-made, special-edition trading card. Well, let's see it then."

Hero fumbled with their wallet, playing with a loose stitch on the outside corner

“Ok, don’t judge it too harshly, because I was working off memory, but…” They flicked a piece of paperboard out of one of the card slots.

A pair of coal-dark eyes stared defiantly out of the ink, burning and beautiful. The figure they belonged to held a baby fire in their palm, letting it curl and lick up around their fingers while smoldering dark hair whipped the smoky air around them, ends licked red with flames. They almost looked ready to set the paperboard world ablaze and leap into reality. Yet, despite their intimidating presence and powerful gaze, their expression felt...serene, not really evil at all.

Villain had recognized their own face immediately, but for some reason, it still took them several seconds to realize that this was them. Not the them from the News or the them that grimaced out from the mirror every morning, but the them they'd always hoped to be.

“It’s…" Villain's tongue caught in their mouth, and they had to swallow to get it to move again. "It’s so good! When you said you were making one I thought you were going to do a doodle on a piece of paper not actually make a card! Is this digital? It looks printed."

“Well, I actually wanted it to be legit, so I borrowed a friend’s drawing tablet. Do you…like it?”

It was far kinder than their real trading card which was just an ugly, smoldering mass of living flame with eyes, more monster than human being.

“It’s amazing.”

The bridge of Hero's nose went pink. "Thank you."

"Like really, really amazing," Villain emphasized.

Hero rubbed the back of their neck and failed at suppressing a little smile as they half-turned away.

"Oh!" They plucked their pen back out of their pocket and offered it out to them. "Um...here."

"No," Villain said, "I couldn't."

"Of course, you can," Hero said, pushing the pen forward more adamantly.

"I'm going to ruin it."

"No, you won't. It's not official unless you autograph it. And I want it for my collection. Besides, I have the file saved; I can make a clean copy for you if you want one."

Villain's heart skipped a beat. "You mean...we could meet up again?"

They weren't sure why that was what they'd picked up out of that statement, but there it was.

"Yeah," Hero said quietly. They hesitantly laid their fingers across Villan's wrist. "But maybe somewhere less...secret, next time? Like a cafe or a movie theatre? Somewhere we could get to know each other?"

"I'm free now." It blurted out before Villain had time to stop it, sitting in the air like a heavy raincloud while their brain sputtered, inwardly and nonsensically at their own stupidity. They frantically glued their eyes to the beige tile and tried to spin something sensible out of the endless jumble in their head. "Not to presume that you are. I'm sure you're really busy, with all that heroing around: fighting villains, saving the day, getting thanked by pretty girls. You obviously can't just up and go places on at a moment's notice. You probably have schedules and rules and higher priorities."

Hero's hand traveled up from Villain's wrist to just underneath their chin, tipping their head back far enough to stare right into their blue, blue eyes.

"You're pretty too." No sooner did they say it, than their face split into a similar much more overt panicked expression. "Of course, you already know that. And I wasn't saying that I go out with people just because they're pretty or save them for that matter. I just wanted to let you know that I think you're-- And for some reason, I thought it was clever but--" They took a deep breath. "What I meant that is my job is sort of a choose your own hours deal, so...I'm free too."

"Oh," Villain said. They felt their mouth wobble somewhere between an "o" and a smile.

"Just as soon as you sign my card."

"Right!" Villain snatched the pen and held the card against their thigh, scribbling a self-conscious signature along the bottom. But from the way Hero beamed when they gave it back to them, maybe it was ok.

They slid the card back into their wallet, checking that it was safe several times before sliding the whole thing back into their pocket. "Ok, let's go then."

They abruptly snatched Villain's hand, the palm-to-palm contact sending a zing up their arm, and started pulling them excitedly toward the stairwell.

"But, but, but" Villain cried out quickly, digging their heels into the tile, "maybe we should both be discreet and wear hats or glasses or something?"

Hero looked over their shoulder at them, brow furrowed. "Discreet?"

"It's just you're a famous hero and all. I don't want anyone blowing it up on the news if they see you out in public with someone."

"That is a good point..." Hero said thoughtfully. "Ok, let's go to a hat shop first."

That wasn't exactly what Villain had had in mine but...they supposed as long as they were coming up with some sort of disguise, it should be fine. They'd just keep their head ducked on the way there.

"Wow, your hands are really warm!" Hero commented halfway down the stairwell. Villain's body was used to the heat, but the hero's hands were becoming sticky.

"Ah, sorry about that," Villain said, tugging their hand back toward themself.

Hero only tightened their grip, their ocean eyes crashing over them and mouth turning into a stubborn pout.

"I didn't mean to let go. I like it."

"Oh," Villain replied stupidly for the second time that day, but they squeezed Hero's hand in return. This earned them a little satisfied grin, warm enough to make even Villain's molten heart overheat.

Oh, boy, this was going to be even more trouble than they thought.

Part Three

Master Taglist (I may have forgotten to put it in when I first posted 😅)

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @yulanlavender @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @appleejuice @psychiclibrariesquotestoad

[numbknee]

Enough of the suffering thru the asks abt all the other cartman ships, what abt your brain rot? 🥺 what *are* your thoughts on kyman?? Go ham dude

ooooh dear... where to begin with the kyman brainrot....... I guess I’ll start at the beginning. VERY LONG POST under the cut. this is basically my kyman meta magnum opus lmao

I’ve talked about this ad nauseam before, but I really, REALLY didn’t want to get into south park. I had only ever watched like 2 full episodes before 2021 and I simply did not understand the appeal. I just thought the draw to the show was the shock factors: gross-out humor, children swearing and committing violence, and blatant bigotry played for laughs. I didn’t understand how it could be so popular other than “well I guess there are lots of horrible people out there who like this horrible show.” 

I grew up in a very WASP-y town and had peers in elementary/middle school who learned about the existence of antisemitism and other bigotries through south park. because kids are stupid and don’t understand satire, many of them took it at face value and were able to have shittons of words added to their vocabulary to put people down and insult them. it was horrible tbh. and I hated the show for that, even as a young kid. I personally wasn’t perfect by any means but even as a snot-nosed, extremely sheltered little white girl I knew that you just shouldn’t do that shit. our school system in particular lauded the “golden rule” constantly (we had to do a school-specific pledge after the pledge of allegiance every day... yeah I know, very american) and I was like “cmon, you guys can’t even follow that ONE RULE to be a semi-decent human being?? really??”

anyway at the end of 2021, my younger brother asked me to watch the post-covid specials with him and he was very excited about it. I was immediately hesitant, especially because in recent years he has become alarmingly incel-y and took a hard turn to the right while I became a leftist. I reluctantly agreed to sit through it to try to understand him more because, even though his political ideology sucks ass, he’s still my brother and I do love him. 

so I watched the specials, and I came out the other side of it shell-shocked with how surprisingly good the writing was. THIS stupid show, the show that all this time I thought was bottom-of-the-barrel comedy, was... GOOD??? particularly regarding CARTMAN?? 

the only things I knew about cartman going into it were the following: he’s fat, he says the name “kyle” weird, and he’s a horrible antisemite. and they made him grow up to be a freaking RABBI. it completely caught me off guard and *gasp* actually made me laugh???? what???? 

there were plenty of other things I loved about the post-covid specials, like my depressed ass relating WAAAY too hard with stan, the extremely on-the-nose satire of the state of advertisement/capitalism with the stupid “denny’s applebee’s max” restaurant chain gag and all the old people being shoved into a giant prison retirement home once they aren’t productive anymore, kenny getting sick of the gang’s bullshit and writing “FUCK THESE HOES” on a beloved childhood photo, butters become a snake-oil salesman for NFTs, kyle being told to “think like a kid” and like 2 seconds later realizing they need to look up kenny’s ass. I could go on but you get the point. 

I liked it way more than I thought I ever would. and obviously, I often find south park funny for different reasons than my brother does because matt & trey are very good at toeing the line of appealing to both sides of the american political spectrum, but it’s become a point of bonding between us in the year since I started watching the show and I’m grateful for that. 

of course, since i’m terminally on tumblr and ao3, I also started to dive into the fandom of south park. I had heard about the whole creek thing years ago and waved it off as a stupid gag but then I realized wait, holy shit, there’s actually a GIGANTIC shipping culture around south park??? at first I got into style because of the interesting concept of post-covid kyle and stan reconnecting after decades apart and not being the same people they used to be but trying to make it work anyway (I even wrote a fic about it ahahaa...) 

but after a while I got tired of the ship because as I watched the rest of the show, I realized their relationship just wasn’t as interesting as I thought it would be. like they’re best friends but... why? because they’ve known each other forever? they both like video games? they make fun of cartman together? the fact they’re “super-best-friends” is kind of taken for granted by the show and the audience, but imo matt and trey never really explore the intricacies of their relationship very much. y’all can disagree with me on this but idk, all I know is that I got bored with style as a ship after like 2 months.

while scrolling through ao3 and tumblr, I ran across kyman fics/fanart for the first time back in february or so. at first I was appalled because... why the everloving fuck would you ship the blatant antisemite with the jewish kid??? really???? isn’t style a much better choice??? but sheer curiosity got the better of me, so I did what I always do when I’m curious about a ship: select for fics with kyle broflovski/eric cartman, sort by kudos, and read the first result (or in this case the second because the first had creek as the main ship). y’all know which fic that is if you’ve even slightly gotten into kyman. it was interesting, but I personally didn’t see them as the actual characters from the show in that fic. they were fandom versions of kyle and cartman, with their personalities changed enough to fit the standard mlm shipping dynamic that’s popular in fandom spaces (particularly regarding dom/sub aspects). I’ve seen it happen in plenty of other fandoms so I wasn’t surprised, but I still couldn’t see how it could possibly work if one were to use their canon character depictions. 

all the while I was making my way through episodes of the show cuz it’s long af, and over time I became more and more intrigued with kyle and cartman’s relationship. cartman quickly became my favorite character in the show because of how fucking complex and layered his personality is (see my tags on this post), and though kyle despises cartman in countless ways, he still is the only one who consistently tries to find goodness in him, tries to make him change for the better, saves him when no one else will, and remains his friend despite everything. it’s a remarkably complex dynamic.

little hints of kyman started creeping up on me: cartman being frequently queer-coded as a closeted gay kid. kyle getting extremely jealous of cartman and heidi’s relationship. both of them on separate occasions saving the other from death or injury without wanting any credit for it or lording it over each other. “we've been through a lot together, and... maybe that alone doesn't make us friends, but it makes us something” 

needless to say, I started to get it. and then I encountered the straw that broke the camel’s back: “know your enemy” by elsen on ao3. I’m not exaggerating when I say I’ve read that fic probably over a dozen times. it was shockingly well-written and so in-tune with the style and tone of the show that I was like “is this person spirit-channelling trey parker or something wtf???” and all of a sudden, I could see how, in a different universe, kyman could actually be an endgame ship. 

what sold me on it the most was how in-character it seemed for cartman to be a repressed, denial-ridden sub, especially regarding his desired relationship with kyle. there’s plenty of canon evidence that cartman has a secret crush on kyle (see this vid by johnny 2 cellos), but there’s no way that kyle could reciprocate those feelings, right?? imo kyle would probably rather die than enter a romantic relationship with cartman where he had to submit to him all the time, but if cartman would want kyle to be dominant over him??? where kyle has control and is able to curb cartman’s problematic behavior as he sees fit??? that opens up a whole other door of possibilities.

I think what kyle wants more than anything else in the world regarding cartman is for the goodness he sees deep down inside him to come to the surface, and for kyle to be the one to guide him (or force him when necessary) to becoming a better person through love and patience and inherent understanding of his fucked up little head??? I can definitely see kyle wanting that (especially since I see kyle as a repressed, denial-ridden sadist/dom lmao; see this post for my thoughts on that). 

it was all downhill from there. I found tons of other cool kyman shippers on tumblr and twitter whose writing and fanart helped suck me in even more and I’ve been stuck in kyman hell ever since. special shoutout to the asker for her kyman analysis posts that inspired this fic I wrote! love u boo <3

ANYWAY that’s how I became a whore for kyman lolololol ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ have a nice day everybody

[buckttommy]

(Way More Than) Seven Sentence Sunday | 11.13.22

I have not done one of these in a WHILE. I was tagged by @gayhoediaz @rewritetheending and @kananjarus . Not even sure what to share, but here's a snippet from a little something something from a fic I started and then abandoned. Tagging @kirkaut @eddiediass @dickley-buddie @henswilsons @archerincombat @malinaa @ohdeklo and anyone else who wants to share something!

Sex with Buck is an experience. That's the only word Eddie can use to describe it. Or perhaps that's not the only word. Tranformative also comes to mind.

Rearranging.

Invigorating.

Buck is thorough and attentive and sweet. Fuck, is he sweet. He listens to Eddie's body in a way no one else has before, keeping track of the groans trapped in the back of his throat and the arch of his spine. Buck never needs words; he can read the pleasure in every goosebump on Eddie's arms and the way his hand fists in his hair, but he uses them anyway, stopping periodically to see if Eddie's okay, if he’s enjoying himself. Eddie’s never been with anyone like that before. All the people he’s slept with just assumed his pleasure was a given. It took him years to realize orgasms didn't equate to pleasure, that pleasure was a slowmoving tidal wave rather than a puddle one dips their toe into, there and gone in a flash, it actually was or wasn’t, but Buck treats his pleasure as if it his own holy mission. 

It’s all so fucking tender and intense that it makes it hard to breathe.

When they're pliant and sated, Buck flops down beside him. Presses a kiss to his chest right above his heart and rolls over onto his side, pulling Eddie with him. No words spoken, no words needed. He sleeps soundly beside him, lips parted slightly, and Eddie can’t take his eyes off of them. Buck's mouth is a tool for worship, and he breathes reverence into his skin with every gentle puff of breath and every sigh of his name and scrape of his teeth. 

Eddie stays awake thinking about that mouth for a long time. 

It becomes something of a fixation to him. At random times, he’ll find himself watching the way Buck’s mouth moves when he laughs, when he talks. When they’re alone together, he can’t stop kissing it, like there’s a magnet buried deep beneath Buck’s skin.

He thinks he’s figured it out one day, when Buck’s hovering overtop of him, hands on either side of his head, their lips locked and swollen -- it's the way Buck’s mouth makes him feel safe. Yes, it's the way he treats every inch of skin on Eddie’s body like it means something, but mostly, it’s the way his lips curl around his name like a vine through a trellis. It’s the way his warmest smiles are reserved for Eddie, and Eddie only, like being the only person lucky enough to bear witness to the sunrise.

It’s a little overwhelming.

Buck draws back, a thin string of saliva still connecting their lips. He brushes his nose against Eddie’s cheek, his chin, his throat. His breath comes a little heavier, his hard cock a warm weight against Eddie's hip.

“Hey. Where did you go?” Buck asks, voice quiet. “You went somewhere.”

Eddie threads his fingers through Buck’s hair. "Why do you say my name like that?"

Buck looks down at him, face open and precious. He rests his body on top of Eddie’s, his chin on his sternum. "How do I say it?"

Like it’s the only word you know, Eddie almost says. Like you can taste it, fresh fruit on the tongue of a dying man.

He looks away from that gaze and shrugs as best as he can without dislodging Buck, even though he can scarcely breathe. “You say it like it means something.”

And Buck laughs. He laughs. Eddie doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that. He opens his mouth to question it but Buck doesn’t give him the chance. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes—silly Eddie asking silly questions.

“You’re an idiot,” he says fondly.

“Yeah, I gathered. Wanna tell me why?”

For the first time, Buck gets a little bashful. His nose crinkles and he sighs again. “It’s—I don’t know. It’s your name,” he says softly, urgently. “It’s you. It’s the name you chose for yourself, the name you won’t let anyone take away from you. I can relate to that.” Buck’s eyes grow distant for a moment—only a moment—before he comes back to the present. “And just. Saying your name—I just like the way it makes me feel. Happy and—”

“Safe?”

Buck’s eyes soften. He leans in to kiss him then, like he just can’t help it. “Yeah, like that.”

[childofaura]

I know that you don’t have a high opinion on Chrom but what are your thoughts on his Resplendent?

And while we are it, any thoughts on Lucina’s Resplendent (the fairy one that has her drawn like a child)?

You know, I do feel a little bad so I have to clarify:

I may whine about Chrom too much, but he’s honestly not as bad as I make him out to be. I’m just a tad tired of the over-saturation of Chrom. But honestly he’s not the worst character. And I’ve said it before but Chrom fans come up with the funniest nicknames in FEH.

So let’s get into the Resplendents:

For what it’s worth, I like Chrom’s Muspell incorporation. I feel like it could maybe use a tad bit more armor though? And also the scale chainmail’s a bit too long. But I get it, they’re following the original layout of Chrom’s outfit. Which… honestly Chrom’s outfit is a bit of a mess, those weird boots, the one bare arm and the other in a sleeve, this boy is a walking fashion disaster, lmao. But he’s the FANS’ fashion disaster. The cape, feathers, and armored gloves are perfect.

And I’ve already talked about PenekoR, long story short love their art, dynamic posing and amazing expressions, they need to stop being afraid to draw noses, yadda yadda.

Honestly I’m mixed on Muspell being picked for Chrom. On the one hand, Askr is too predictable, but it’s the better fitting choice since the Order of Heroes parallels the Shepherds. On the other hand, Muspell really doesn’t feel like it’s a good pick for Chrom’s personality. But on my third hand, Muspell aesthetic really goes well with Chrom. So overall I can’t give a straight answer for fitting choice.

I’d say Chrom’s a comfortable 8/10. Not bad at all.

Now… ugh… Lucina:

Full disclaimer that yes, I’m aware that Himukai Yuji is a lolicon-drawing creep. We’re just gonna be reviewing the art. And also, with that being said, I don’t judge or dislike or blame anyone who like’s Yuji’s art in FEH. The FEH art is entirely separate from the personal art, so no bullying anyone who does like their art.

So incorporation is actually pretty bad. And no I’m not saying this as a bias against Yuji because let me explain: Lucina’s outfit still wholly looks like it’s made out of cloth, not petals and leaves like other Resplendents do. We could have had more of like a glowing nightflower look (something akin to the Silent Princess from Breath of the Wild), but nah the artis decided that you can split the ends of the garment and call it a day. It also took me a moment to realize those butterflies slapped on were her shoulder pauldrons, there was no effort to make them look like they fit as adornments.

The ONE thing I will grudgingly give Yuji’s art is that their coloring style is very vivid and distinct, and it looks nice. And posework seems to be ok. And that’s it, because they fucked up big time drawing Lucina and making her look like a fucking baby. And considering what the artist gets their rocks off to, it grossly makes sense now.

The sad thing is that yes, a Ljosalfheim Resplendent is perfect for Lucina. She’s a Princess who was forced into a world of despair, the opportunity for her to live a fairytale life is lost. So for her to be a dream princess that fights nightmares is super fitting. It’s just that this Resplendent was bungled in every possible way. There’s a few fixes I’ve seen with an image search that try to do fixes, but they mess up by not fixing the outfit cloth program and they also make Lucina’s chest too big when she’s canonically flat-chested (and don’t take away the little flat chest rep that I have ):< )

Without a doubt, Resplendent Lucina is a 5/10. She deserved better.

[imnobodyuknow]

She really puts the “blue” in “blooey,” doesn’t she?

I’ve made you wait for quite a while, so I thought I’d skip the guest hosting, GIFs, Double-GIFs, etc. this time around and finally share the long-awaited “big reveal” number 56!  Let’s cut to the chase (no pun intended), shall we?

Politics are a messy business even in the Paper Mushroom Kingdom, apparently.  😄

So, for those not familiar with Paper Mario, it’s a turn-based RPG series (Super Paper Mario being one exception) that, like several other video game series, allows you to do some questionable things, including but not limited to the ones described by Princess Peach in this comic.  One game in particular even lets Mario attack the woman herself.

Oddly enough, though, she seems to be the only one who cares about it.  😆

While I know Mario’s not the type to hurt innocent people, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if this sort of thing was canon to the story.  If it was, it would make Mario the sort of person who can and will save the day when the situation calls for it, but who also has a habit of getting on people’s nerves (in other words, a bit of an antihero).

While we’re on the subject, those of you who are gamers can probably name a few other examples of this in other game series -- Mario jumping on piantas’ heads in Super Mario Sunshine, Link picking up pots and breaking them in the Legend of Zelda series, Fox shooting/crashing into his allies in the Star Fox series, and so on.  There are even some Legend of Zelda games that will punish you for taking it too far (ex. The Wind Waker, Spirit Tracks, etc.).  But since the Paper Mario series seems to mostly let Mario’s shenanigans slide, I decided to see how his fellow papery people would react if they took them seriously.  Quite a bit different, isn’t it?  And hilarious, of course.  😏

So, a couple of things I hope you didn’t notice about the comic -- first, it’s apparently been a while since I used the “flesh” colored pencil, which is why Peach seems a bit paler in the second two panels than in the first two.  I attempted to fix that with GIMP, but it became too much of a hassle in the end, so I decided to leave it as is.  On the other hand, it kind of makes sense for her to look redder in the second panel, doesn’t it?  😄

I also kind of messed up Peach’s glove on the righthand side of the final panel.  I forgot that it’s supposed to get thinner as it moves toward her hand somehow.  🤷‍♂️  But given how many details there were in each panel, I’m actually pretty glad that those are the only noticeable errors!  I mean, I guess the shape of the railing could be a little more consistent, but...eh, close enough.

I’ve been learning to say those two words a lot while drawing lately, by the way.  It’s a big help for someone as persnickety as me.  😅

Interestingly enough, the Princess was made after a very recent version of her...

...while the room she’s in, the chair she’s sitting in, and the book she’s reading were based on a couple of screenshots from the very first Paper Mario game:

It turns out that even Nintendo 64 games include a lot of details you don’t notice until you try to draw them.  Copying the orange and yellow swirls of one column, the vertical stripes of two others, the fancy blue banner, the railing posts, the table and potted plant, and the sky-themed wall design was a challenge, but it made for good practice, as well as making it that much more rewarding to get to the more enjoyable parts -- namely, Peach’s shiny crown and hair, her beautiful outfit, and her hilarious faces and gestures.  😊

I also never realized how hard phone cords are to draw before now, but making a convincing spiral shape was another good challenge.  I started out by drawing a line that curved the way I wanted the cord to, then drawing the cord around it, and...it looks like it worked out okay.  🙂

And with that, have a blessed day, everyone!  And make sure to keep your nose (and mustache, if applicable) clean!

[fellstcr]

                 REFLECT  /  @reversedpsync​ / ACCEPTING !   ↳  send REFLECT for me to explain a traumatic event in my muse’s past and talk about their perception of events,  which parts have stayed with them longest and how it affects them now. (  sender can request specific scenes/backstory )

        ||. Y’know it hit me that not a lot of people actually talk about how traumatic an event like the Flame Emperor Reveal would’ve been for Byleth. (For those who don’t know: the flame emperor acts as a main antagonist during the 1st half of the game, and is ACTUALLY edelgard, the female house leader, in disguise.)

     I mean, in Azure Moon specifically? We’re all usually so focused on this:

         ..... that we kind of forget to think about anyone else in the room. Player character included. Of course, if this is a first playthrough, or even if you know it’s coming? The player certainly feels SOME level of betrayal. maybe anger, maybe hurt. I know I did.  At the end of the day, Edelgard is an EXTREMELY charismatic, likeable ally. And the fact of the matter is that, unless you’re specifically playing CF to side with her? She ends up going from a student to a traitor (and a war criminal) real quick ;;; and worst of all it’s revealed in this moment that she’s been working with the main terrorist group the whole time, right underneath your nose.

       And getting back to Byleth? I think that’s the real kicker here. Whether it’s Azure Moon Route, Verdant Wind or Silver Snow... ALL of this was happening underneath her nose. It’s worse in Silver Snow, where she was directly responsible for Edelgard and had grown close to her over the course of her tenure as a Professor... but personally I like to think that Byleth went out of her way to grow close to ALL students of Garreg Mach, regardless of the house she may have chosen. Edelgard is certainly no exception to that. Frankly, between their similar dispositions (on the surface level), and Edelgard’s own Crest of Flames (something that definitely draws El to Byleth, though it’s never stated as the other way around), there was clearly some level of mutual admiration and respect for each other.

         To have all of that thrown away in an instant? To suddenly realize that the person who’s been helping terrorize The Officer’s Academy, who worked with the same people who murdered your father in cold blood, who gave said terrorists a soldier who kidnapped an innocent girl for blood experimentation (smthn that DIRECTLY led to Jeralt’s murder, mind you), it turns out — was a STUDENT the entire time? And not only that, but within days of THIS reveal, took the throne of her Empire and started a war of conquest against the whole of Fódlan (starting with the church)? Like. That’s A LOT. And the church only really gets... I think TWO WEEKS to try and evacuate the nearby towns, the school itself, and then fortify its defenses (which is NOT enough time, at all.)

       The TL;DR is that Byleth... Regardless of route, absolutely cared for Edelgard. There was a kinship there. A genuine connection that COULD HAVE been great, and even fruitful for them both. But El turned down a path that 99% of the time, Byleth can’t follow. (And even when she does... to me it never really felt like she’s doing any of it for Edelgard very specifically, although that’s certainly a part of it.)

       I like to think Byleth was really shaken up by this whole event. Speaking specifically about AM!Byleth, too? It was jarring and hurtful, and I am CONVINCED that Byleth takes some fault for the situation at hand. She’s aware that Edelgard’s decisions were her own. She REFUSES to take away Edelgard’s agency in her part to play for what has happened, and the war she started. There’s an accountability that MUST be taken for this path. But I do think that Byleth... thinks that she could have done better. Maybe she should have paid more attention, or been more perceptive. Maybe there were more clues that she could have picked up on, or SOMETHING that she could have said to reach out her hand to Edelgard and stop her from going down the wrong path... There wasn’t any need for war, and in Byleth’s eyes it is not only senseless but completely avoidable.

      She’s hurt, and feels betrayed because Edelgard was her friend. She feels guilty because for all of her influence, and all of her power, she couldn’t - or maybe DIDN’T - stop it. And she’s angry  - not just with El but with HERSELF for being too “stupid” to figure it all out before it all came crashing to a head and spiraling out of control. And as far as how all of this continues to shape her? She’s paranoid around people who wear masks, and who are clearly lying. She doesn’t trust herself to have the intuition to be able to separate truth from lie, and her own naive idealism from what’s fact. Because at the end of the day she went from someone who was pragmatic and nearly solely logic-based to someone naive enough not to see that the flame emperor was right in front of her the whole time. Her vision was too clouded by her new emotions, and the genuine joy and peace that came with FINALLY having a stable lifestyle that she enjoys start to finish, surrounded by people who care and who feel she’s just as human as they are.

        She’s not really sure what to make of any of that anymore.

[gimmethatagustd]

paint me naked | jjk

After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he’s not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?  

» pairing: artist!jungkook x f!reader (ft. taehyung) » genre: BTS, 18+, college au, fluff, smut, angst » warnings: alcohol, marijuana, brief mention of drug dealing, fingering, cunnilingus, protected sex, reader struggles with self-esteem issues (due to misogyny), tae fuckboy antics, everyone is obsessed with jk’s thighs 😂 » date/wc: april 2022 | 16k » notes: this one was really fun to write! i’m a slut for art student aus tbh. it’s the depressed writer in me lkhsdks 😂 anywayy, the poems were written by me as well. let me know what your favorite part was in a comment or reblog!  special shoutout to @jjkeverlast​ for being so supportive of me when i’m stressing out about my writing

» masterlist | ao3 | send me ur thots 👅

» what was jai listening to? paint me naked - ten  //  don’t - bryson tiller

“Jungkook, I don’t think this is gonna work.”

“Let me try.” 

Your eyes strained to see the boy standing in front of you, but the room was pitch black. It was good, though. You’d purposefully blocked out as much light as you possibly could. It had been a surprisingly difficult feat, mostly because the two of you hadn’t thought this through very well. A rolled up towel was shoved against the bottom of the bedroom door to keep the light from the hallway out. Blackout curtains had already been drawn over the windows when you got there, so that made the window problem easier. Luckily, you’d remembered to unplug the digital clock sitting on the nightstand next to the bed, the last piece of light you could have some control over putting out. 

To make things weirder, you were in Jungkook’s parents’ room. 

“It’s the darkest room in the house!” he’d insisted and you hadn’t objected because, well, it seemed on brand for the way the entire night was going. 

With arms stretched out, your fingers pressed into something bumpy and hard. You could hear Jungkook’s breathing beside you and a light laugh alerted to you that he was much closer than you’d initially thought. After a quick prod, fingers gliding slightly upward, you realized you were grabbing his abdomen. The hard ripples you’d felt were his toned abs beneath his thin t-shirt. 

“Sorry,” you whispered, though there was no need to be quiet. Jungkook’s hands wrapped around yours and took the objects you had clutched between them: scissors and an undeveloped film roll. 

Drawing your hands back to your side, you waited in silence. The sound of metal scraping against plastic was the only sound in the room aside from the quiet rustle of wind blowing through leaves outside. You don’t think you’d ever felt silence before until that moment. It was electric, a pulsing sizzle that sparked up your fingertips and jolted into your heart as you stood beside Jungkook. The harmony your breathing had fallen into made the moment feel far more intimate than you’d expected. Why was standing in the dark with someone so intimate? 

“Fuck,” Jungkook muttered, and you heard what you imagined was him stabbing the scissors into the film. 

“Oh my god, please don’t cut yourself, okay? I don’t know where the hospital is from here.”

His only response was another quiet laugh and you knew from the sound that his nose was doing that scrunched up thing that it always did when he was making fun of you. After only a few months of knowing Jungkook he was certainly very comfortable teasing you. He was pretty comfortable with you in general, you were beginning to realize. 

And why were you here? Standing in the dark with a boy you barely knew from a shared university class, one who towered over you in height as well as being much larger than you physically. Trying to pop open film because Jungkook somehow thought you could actually develop this film without having access to a real darkroom. Sure, all throughout high school you’d taken film photography classes. You had the development process memorized by heart, from the length of time the film needed to soak to the different types of chemicals needed and what order you were supposed to submerge the prints in. You’d even emailed your old high school teacher to double check. 

But doing all of that in Jungkook’s parents’ house? You knew it wasn’t going to work, but the guy had insisted on you helping him. Was it concerning that he had all these chemicals stored in a plastic tub in his closet? Maybe. And was it the safest decision to use scissors to pop open the film instead of the proper tool (which Jungkook had forgotten to order off of Amazon in advance)? Absolutely not. 

On top of that, no one knew where you were; you’d simply told your roommates that you were going to hang out with the guy from your university poetry class. 

“Jungkook? The weird one with all the tattoos and piercings?” Your roommate, Amiriah, had asked.  

“He’s not that weird.” 

“Y/N, he wrote a poem about eating pussy for a class assignment. You said so yourself. Please tell me how that’s a normal thing to do.” 

“And didn’t he have to read it outloud to the class because he turned it in late?” Now it was time for Courtney to pipe in from her position lounging on the couch, an episode of Love Connection paused on the TV screen. 

“Okay, yes, he did do both those things. But I swear he’s actually really sweet. He’s just misunderstood.” 

Courtney had launched a pillow at you, though the object zoomed past your head and landed against the refrigerator, knocking down multiple of Amiriah’s magnets. Much to her dismay. 

“Maybe we should take a break.” 

Jungkook’s voice brought you back to reality, or at least some semblance of it. You couldn’t understand how someone could have such a soft voice. Listening to Jungkook speak was like floating on a cloud. His cadence was a gentle caress against your skin, a sound that could easily flutter your eyes and lull you to sleep. It didn’t matter what he was saying; everything sounded better coming from Jungkook’s mouth. 

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn’t see you. A few moments and a bit of shuffling later, the lights sprung on. Your eyes instantly shut and slowly pried open again from the blaring brightness. 

The poor film looked like it had been mauled by a bear, but it was still somehow intact. Jungkook slipped it into his pocket for safekeeping and turned to look at you. He had this thing about eye contact that really made you uncomfortable. When he met your gaze, he looked straight into your eyes, as if he was looking into you rather than at you. 

“Do you want a drink?” 

His question caught you off guard, but he was already picking up the towel from the floor to open the bedroom door. Without answering, you followed him through the house and into the kitchen. You stood in the doorway, hands clasped in front of you, eyes following his large frame navigating the kitchen cabinets. 

“All my parents have is rosé, is that okay?” 

He uncorked the chilled bottle and poured each of you a glass. Then he did something that your roommates could add to the list of weird things they'd developed for him. 

He sat on the floor. 

You stared at him with your lips slightly parted, unsure if you were supposed to follow him. There was an entire kitchen table with multiple chairs. Why was he sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the doorframe? Bottle of rosé sitting on the tile next to him. He looked up at you with impossibly soft doe eyes and you couldn’t just stand there with your glass. So, you slowly sank to the floor, your shoulders brushing against each other as you sat next to him. 

“Y’know, I just realized the film you have is color film.” You spoke slowly, hating that you were about to burst his bubble. “You wouldn’t be able to develop it at home, anyway. The chemicals you bought are for black and white film, and color film has to be developed using heat.” 

“Damn.” Jungkook tipped his head back to take a very deep drink of his wine. 

“We gave a valiant effort, though.” You flashed him a small smile and the grin you got in return made your face grow hot. 

Your roommates weren’t really wrong. Jungkook didn’t have the best reputation on your university campus. There were rumors that he sold drugs (marijuana and acid, specifically) and had gang affiliations. He was quiet, kept to himself, and didn’t seem to have a whole lot of friends aside from a few guys who were equally just as questionable. Yes, you knew he’d gotten arrested the day before spring break started for getting into a fight with a guy on campus, but based on what your friends had told you, it was definitely the other guy’s fault. 

You’d also heard he had great head game, but that was a whole other thing. You just had a really hard time believing all the bad things people said about him, even when he’d admitted to a lot of the rumors being true. 

“A gang tried to recruit me when I was fresh outta high school, but I like selling on my own. Can’t trust people for shit.” 

He’d said it so casually, and you wondered what was wrong with you for finding a conversation about dealing drugs attractive. 

The thing your roommates, and a lot of other people, didn’t understand was that there was more to Jungkook than whatever dumb rumors got spread around (real or not). He was an exceptional writer. His poetry weaved in elements of hip hop, almost sounding like eloquent and lyrical rap lyrics rather than your typical stuffy poem that other students in your class tried to pass off as profound. He didn’t shy away from writing about mental health, sex, relationships, and loss. Everything he put down was raw, and you liked that it made other people in the class uncomfortable. Jungkook wasn’t afraid to be himself. Wasn’t that what art was supposed to be all about? 

And he was artistic in every way. Not only did he write well, but he was obviously into photography, and he also dabbled in multimedia sculpture. But the most impressive was probably his paintings. You’d seen the work he’d posted on Instagram, and during one of your hangouts he’d told you about how he’d been commissioned by the city to work on a public mural with another local artist. 

Very few people knew these things about Jungkook. They saw the tattoos, the piercings, the occasional blunt wedged between his lips, and they painted him in a way that was so distorted it annoyed you. 

“Thanks for helping me, though. I appreciate you.” 

You bit your bottom lip into your mouth to suppress another smile, instead opting to simply nod your head and cover up any expression by taking a drink. 

At this point, the two of you had been hanging out at least once a week. Usually you just sat outside on his parents’ front porch and smoked and talked about life. His parents seemed to always be out of town, and although Jungkook lived across the hall from you in the university dorms, he stayed at his parents’ house a lot to take care of their dog. 

It felt weird, though, hanging out with Jungkook. It was like all your interactions could only happen during those moments; otherwise, he didn’t talk to you when you saw him around campus. Even in your advanced poetry class, he would lock eyes with you across the room, but he never said a word. 

And it didn’t help that he was best friends and roommates with Kim Taehyung, the campus casanova who’d fucked you like you were the only girl in the world for an entire semester until you saw him cuddled up at a party with some other girl who didn’t even go to your university. The next day he was standing at your dorm asking for his skateboard back, weaving some lie about how summer break was the time to be single and have fun, but that he would “never forget” the fun times you'd had. 

Then Taehyung got a girlfriend. 

So maybe you were a little bit bitter over how things ended with Taehyung (and maybe you’d spent the entire summer crying yourself to sleep at night and aimlessly scrolling through Tinder, looking for anyone who might replace him and finding nothing). But the worst part was knowing that Taehyung had probably talked to Jungkook about you, and you had no idea what he might have said. 

“Hopefully the film is still okay,” you said after a moment, trying to pull yourself out of the cyclical negative thoughts you were often consumed by. 

You finished your glass, shaking your head at Jungkook’s offer for more rosé. He nodded, pushing himself up to stand and reached out to take your empty glass. 

You watched him from the floor as he washed the glasses in the sink. Your eyes lingered just a bit too long on the way his forearm muscles flexed while he cleaned, a few veins popping out along the back of his hands and the inside of his arm. Tattoos and piercings hadn’t ever been your thing, not that you didn’t appreciate the allure of body modifications. You’d just found yourself going after boys who looked polished, good boys to take home to mom. Jungkook had been the one to initiate your friendship, asking to hang out while you worked on your poems or read the many poetry collections due for class. You’d be a liar if you said his sudden interest in you hadn’t sparked your own interest in him.

Just one glass of wine was enough to make you a bit lightheaded, and Jungkook was a heavy pourer, apparently. 

“You good?” 

You blinked and stared into Jungkook’s face. He was drying off his hands now, watching you with an amused look on his face. 

“Umm, yeah. Just a lightweight,” you said with a breathy laugh that sounded a little too forced for your liking. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice. 

“You wanna go to my studio with me? The one on campus?” 

You looked down at your phone, a few text messages popping up from your roommates demanding to know where you were. Swiping to clear the notifications, you looked up at Jungkook and gave him a small smile. 

“Sure.” 

“That thing so fire baby, no propane. Got good pussy, girl, can I be frank? To keep it 100, girl, I ain't no saint.” 

Music came blaring out of the car’s speakers at an alarmingly high volume, causing you to exhale a startled shout. Jungkook quickly lunged to turn down the volume and accidentally honked the car’s horn when his shoulder leaned against the steering wheel. 

“Shit, sorry.” 

“Talk about fucking sensory overload, fuck,” you mumbled, heart still dazed in your chest. 

“It was actually nice outside for once. I was whippin’ with the windows down, so the music’s gotta be louder.” 

All he was getting from you was rolled eyes and the sound of your seatbelt clicking into place. 

Jungkook turned around to look over his shoulder as he backed out of the driveway. He grabbed onto the back of your seat to position himself; once again, you found yourself eyeing his arms, exploring the exposed tattoos. It kind of pissed you off how hot it was when guys drove backwards. What was evolutionarily advantageous about that attraction? 

“If you wanna change it, I got a couple CDs.” 

Jungkook motioned to the middle console. You flipped through them, finding the album that was currently playing. You’d recognize it anywhere; he was one of your favorite musicians. 

“Bryson Tiller?” You turned the CD case over in your hand, eyes scanning the tracklist on the back. “You listen to sex music while you drive? And off a CD instead of Bluetooth, no less?”

Jungkook barked out a laugh, all teeth and crinkled eyes that you could just barely make out as the streetlights streaked over his face. 

“Yeah, I guess I do. You got a problem with Bryson?” His fingers lazily tapped against the steering wheel to the relaxed beat of Don’t - which happened to be your favorite song on the album. “This car is twenty-one years old. You’re lucky we’re not sitting here listening to cassettes.” 

“Who doesn’t like Bryson Tiller? That’s the baby-making music of our generation,” you said with a laugh. “Honestly, I can’t believe this song came out in fuckin’ 2015. Why does that feel like such a long time ago?” 

Jungkook sat in the driver’s seat with his legs spread as much as possible; this position was what had made you realize just how thick and nice his thighs really were. Plus, he drove with one hand on top of the steering wheel, left elbow bent slightly. He usually let his right hand rest against his thigh, though sometimes he held onto the gear shift in between the two of you. 

There was rarely any traffic in your college town, and especially not at 10pm on a Tuesday night. The two of you fell silent, Bryson Tiller’s soulful lyrics swirling through the car in the absence of conversation. Jungkook was typically a man of few words. You’d grown accustomed to carrying the conversation. With most people, that would have bothered you, but with Jungkook it was different. You knew he was paying attention when you talked; you could see it in the way the corners of his mouth twitched when you said something dorky (which was, apparently, all the time). 

And when he did have something to say, it was always worth the wait. 

“You’ve got good taste,” Jungkook said after driving a few blocks. “Guess I should probably add him to my sex playlist.”

Before you had time to process his comment Jungkook was pulling into the east parking lot of your university, the part of campus that was off to the side and only held art-related facilities. 

He led you to an unmarked backdoor of the building closest to the parking lot. Pushing the door open, he held it for you with a sweep of his hand. 

“Ladies first, noona.” 

Scowling at the honorific, you still obliged, entering a long hallway. The walls were bare, just an eggshell white, a few black scuff marks here and there, as if someone had been carrying something large and struggled to fit it through the narrow space. Jungkook maneuvered past you to lead the way to another unmarked door. 

The studio was a lot larger than you expected. One side of the room had a large rack of painted canvases to dry. You turned to inspect the left side of the room, finding multiple easels with additional canvases of varying sizes, most blank or seemingly half-finished. A rather worn-looking couch was placed in the middle of the room. Beside it was a coffee table and a Bluetooth speaker. (So Jungkook did know about modern technology.) Paint-covered tarps protected much of the concrete floor, and there were paint buckets and other supplies scattered in every corner. The entire room was pure chaos, but it seemed like there was an organization to it that only Jungkook knew. 

“So… yeah. This is my studio.” Jungkook closed the door behind you and locked it. 

Your heart skipped a beat at his action, but you swallowed down the spike of fear that had threatened to bubble up inside of you. You’d spent plenty of alone time with Jungkook. There was nothing to worry about. 

“I had to practically beg the school to let me have my own space since I’m not an art major, but they eventually let up,” Jungkook continued with a shrug. 

You were impressed, honestly. Jungkook wasn’t known for being the most reliable student academically; it was surprising they’d given him such privileges. 

“I like it,” you said simply, eyes still roaming the space. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do now. Studio art wasn’t really your thing, poetry was. 

Luckily, Jungkook had a knack for reading your mind. 

“You can sit on the couch if you want. I got a project due tomorrow morning, so I’m gonna work on it. But if you wanna paint, just lemme know.” He scrolled through his phone as he spoke, and eventually more R&B music started playing from the speaker. 

“Tomorrow morning? JK, it’s fucking 10:30.” 

You stared at him with your head tilted to the side in disbelief, but you were only met with another shrug and a grin. Living on the edge. King of Procrastination, Jeon Jungkook. You were already getting secondhand stress. 

With a quiet hum to himself as the music took over, it was clear to you that Jungkook had switched to his serious side. He began prepping one of his easels with various paint brushes and paints. Dragging a heavy-looking but small filing cabinet next to the easel, he used the surface to store his supplies while he worked. 

You flopped onto the couch, adjusting so you could have a clear view of Jungkook. He looked cute in his jeans and black hoodie, a blunt pencil tucked behind his ear. His lips pouted slightly as he planned what he was going to do with his painting. Occasionally the pencil would be plucked from his ear and a few sketches appeared on the canvas, too light for you to see what they were from your position on the couch. 

The vibration of your phone tore your eyes away from Jungkook’s figure. It was no surprise that your roommate group text was blowing up. 

Courtnayyy 😘 [10:00] BITCH WHERE ARE YOU

A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:01] pls tell me the weirdo didn’t murder u

Courtnayyy 😘 [10:04] If he did can I have your Mac Miller poster? 

A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:15] court how tf would she approve of that if she’s dead? she ain’t gonna see this shit

Courtnayyy 😘 [10:18] Ouija board

A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] stfu 🔫

A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:25] Y/N you better answer ur fucking phone right now

A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:40] hellooooooooooooooooooo

You let out a sigh loud enough for Jungkook to look over at you, eyebrows furrowed. 

“My roommates think you killed me.”

Jungkook grinned and turned back to his easel with a shake of his head. You’d expected him to say something, but then the reminder that Jungkook was… unconventional slithered into your mind. 

[10:45] I’m alive. Can you pls stop blowing up my phone now? 💀

Courtnayyy 😘 [10:46] FUCKING FINALLY 

A Mili Amiriah 👑 [10:47] what are you doing??

[10:50] We’re just hanging out at his studio. I’ll probably leave soon

You tossed your phone next to you on the couch and lifted your arms into the air to stretch. It was rather warm in the studio and the smooth music of whatever playlist Jungkook had on was making you feel sleepy. What kind of lame college student were you? 

“I was serious about what I said.” Jungkook didn’t look at you while he painted, too focused on mixing the right shade of brown. 

“About what?”

“You can paint if you want. All the paint and brushes are in the cabinet.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, eyes flitting from the filing cabinet next to Jungkook to the easel off to the side with a blank canvas. What if whatever you painted looked like shit? You had no idea what you were doing. 

But when did you ever get to paint in your adult life?

Pushing yourself off the couch you approached Jungkook to start rummaging in the drawers for supplies. You were stopped in your tracks, however, the moment your eyes landed on his painting. Considering that much time hadn’t passed, Jungkook was far along in his work. You came face to face with a woman, or at least the naked body of a woman. She was painted in soft earthy tones, curves accentuated by what looked like a gold silk ribbon that wrapped around her. The painting was certainly abstract because she was missing a head and her limbs weren’t finished, but just having her strong torso and thighs, and a long regal neck, somehow made her feel complete. 

“That’s beautiful, JK. She looks so realistic… How can you do all those little details so quickly?” You spoke quietly, desperately wishing you could touch the canvas. 

“Painting nudity is easy.” Another classic Jungkook shrug. “That’s why it’s so overdone. There’s nothing more beautiful than humans in their purest state, right? We’re the original art.” 

You would have never considered nudity to be pure, but you liked Jungkook’s analysis. Society saw nudity as all about sex. Despite his depiction of breasts and genitalia, Jungkook’s painting was a reflection and appreciation of a body. 

You wondered if it was anyone’s body in particular. 

The thought soured your mood a bit, and you quickly returned your focus to finding the supplies you needed. Satisfied, you took up the easel beside Jungkook. What the fuck were you going to paint? Especially now that you had this beautiful work blooming next to you. 

“Don’t think about it so much. Just go for it.” 

There was Jungkook reading your mind again. 

You weren’t sure how much time passed with the two of you working silently. At first you’d considered doing something abstract, but eventually you felt compelled to do something a bit more realistic. You’d retrieved your phone (ignoring your roommates’ texts again) to pull up a photo for reference as you painted. 

After a while Jungkook lifted his finished painting and carried it to the rack to dry. By the time he had completed his painting, you were putting your final touches on yours - one that was far more simplistic. You found it entertaining, though. 

“Who is that?” 

You’d been so absorbed in getting those final details perfected that you hadn’t noticed Jungkook standing right behind you. You jumped slightly and that elicited a chuckle from the boy. 

“It’s a portrait of Bad Bunny.” Your greatest celebrity crush. 

“He’s cute. You did a good job considering you looked so scared to start.” His comment left your cheeks burning. You’d hoped it hadn’t been so obvious, but Jungkook was too observant for his own good (and for yours, too). “Maybe I should hire you as my assistant.”

“Thanks. It’s not as good as yours, though.” 

Jungkook waved you off and the action made him realize he had a good amount of paint on his hands. Rather than find a towel, he simply rubbed his hands against his thighs. You watched him, eyes lingering on the way his thighs stretched the tight material of his jeans. Looking up to return to his face you were met with a smirk. You were doing a real shitty job at being subtle, apparently. 

You chose not to say anything and focused your attention on finishing your painting, not wanting Jungkook to be waiting for you longer than he needed to. He sat down on the couch, now distracted by his phone. 

“So,” you spoke as you lifted up your finished painting, following Jungkook’s instructions to put it on the drying rack. “What was the inspiration for your painting?” 

Was it a bold question? You were trying to play it off like you weren’t going to cling to whatever his answer was. 

Jungkook patted the space next to him to encourage you to sit down. Once you were sitting next to him, your body turned slightly to face him, Jungkook leaned forward. His face was mere inches from yours and you could feel his breath tickle your cheek. He watched you with those brown doe eyes, such an innocent feature on an otherwise devious-looking face. The smirk that formed on his lips strongly contrasted the sweetness of his eyes. 

Jungkook’s tongue poked out to play with his lip ring before he answered your question. It was impossible to look away from his lips, and you thought you felt your heart stop. 

“The deadline.” 

The smirk grew deeper as he pulled away, running a hand through his hair. You were more than disappointed, feeling yourself deflate and finally realizing you’d been holding your breath. Your shoulders slumped slightly, but you managed to mask the reason for your disappointment by pretending you were disappointed in him. 

“Boy, you need to work on your assignments earlier so you can come up with something good,” you huffed, crossing your arms against your chest. 

“Was it not good?” He grinned, a cocky twinkle in his eyes, no longer doe-shaped but narrowed in mirth. “Come on, let me drop you off. It’s almost 2.” 

“Fuck, I have an 8am.” 

With a quick check on your phone you saw that it was indeed almost 2am. How had you spent almost four hours in the studio without realizing it? Nevermind the fact that you’d spent another three or four hanging out with Jungkook before you’d even gotten to the studio. 

“I’d skip if I was you.” 

Jungkook led you through the art building and to his car, making sure that the music didn’t startle you half to death when he started the car this time. 

“Unlike you, I’m a good student, thanks.” 

It wasn’t a terrible dig because you knew Jungkook enough to know he didn’t give a shit. All he’d do was give you a small smile and melt your heart with the confusion of how it was possible for someone to look both so soft and so dangerous. 

Your dorm was on the other side of campus, so the drive over was quick. But rather than drop you off at the sidewalk, Jungkook pulled into the parking lot, much to your surprise. 

“I thought you were staying over at your parents’?” 

Jungkook kept the car running, but he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned back in his chair.

“Me and Tae are gonna go smoke. I got this new strain of indica we wanna try.”

He didn’t look at you when he spoke, instead facing forward to peer out the window. Once he brought up weed, you realized you could smell the remnants of weed smoke in Jungkook’s car, partially masked by air freshener. 

At the mention of Jungkook’s roommate you felt your stomach drop. The feeling was only intensified when you followed Jungkook’s gaze to see a figure with long legs and broad shoulders make their way down the sidewalk, heading right in your direction. You felt ice shoot through your veins and panic settle into your chest. 

“Oh,” you squeaked out. You needed to escape, but you couldn’t force your hands to unbuckle yourself and open the door. 

“Do you wanna come with us?” Jungkook took your lack of movement as a desire to get high. 

You looked at Jungkook with an open mouth, but nothing came out. And even if you could speak, Taehyung was already flinging the car door open. 

“Oh, shit, Y/N. I didn’t even see you there.” Taehyung leaned against the car door, eyes sweeping over your small figure as you attempted to look as relaxed as possible. 

Did he lick his lips or were you just imagining that? 

“Want me to sit in the back?” 

Taehyung leaned down so he could poke his head into the car and talk to Jungkook right over you. The position gave you a perfect view of his neck and his collarbones peeking out from beneath the silk button-up shirt he was wearing, the first few buttons undone as usual. His cologne smelled like cedar and you could faintly smell something fruity, likely the strawberry-flavored vape he smoked. 

All of that was enough to send you mentally screaming into the void. 

“ThanksJungkookIgottago,” you sputtered, doing your best not to touch Taehyung as you moved around him to get out.

“Y/N!” 

You ignored Jungkook’s call, not daring to look back. Despite your exhaustion you took the stairs two at a time until you made it to your dorm, nearly dropping your keys as you unlocked the door. The kitchen and living room were dark, so you knew your roommates were asleep - or at least in their own rooms. You didn’t even bother to do your nighttime routine, opting to strip down to your underwear and collapse into your bed face-first. 

Darkness and silence brought you no solitude; quite honestly, they had the opposite effect. All you had in your head was Taehyung’s face… in your ears, his voice… in your nostrils, his smell. 

Groaning, you flipped onto your back and grabbed your phone to put on your favorite thunderstorm white noise playlist. In the middle of picking the perfect sound, your phone buzzed with a text. 

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:15] you good?

You bit your lip, not wanting to leave him hanging so late, but also knowing if you went down this rabbithole you’d never fall asleep. 

[2:16] I’m fine

Your phone vibrated almost immediately, but you forced yourself to put it away. Whatever Jungkook had to say could wait until the morning. Or until never, because right now you never wanted to speak to another human ever again. 

Jungkook (Poetry) [2:16] you don’t have to lie to me

Jungkook (Poetry) [3:02] lying destroys our intrinsic value as human beings by corrupting our ability to make rational choices and have free will

Jungkook (Poetry) [3:03] immanuel kant said that

You didn’t realize you’d be hit with a philosophical lecture the moment you woke up, but then you remembered that Jungkook had gone smoking with Taehyung. The two of them got all philosophical when they were high, as if they really could achieve some kind of superior knowledge. 

They were idiots. 

“Oh my god, when the fuck did you get home last night?” 

Anyone speaking that loud and harshly so early in the morning was an assailant. You glared at Courtney, brushing past her to get to the bathroom. You shouldn’t have been surprised that the girl stayed outside the bathroom door as she waited for you to finish. 

“It was definitely after 1am ‘cause that’s when we went to bed,” she kept on talking even when you turned the shower on. “What could you guys have possibly been doing that whole time? Did you hook up?” 

“No.”

“What?” Courtney strained to hear you over the sound of the high-pressure water. 

“I said, no!” 

It was ridiculous that you were standing there, rubbing your naked body down with lavender exfoliating soap, while you discussed your alleged hook up with a guy you barely knew. 

You thanked the Lord Almighty that your schedule didn’t line up with your roommates on Wednesdays, or else you would have had to suffer Courtney and Amiriah’s interrogations the whole day. 

Instead you sleepily dragged yourself through two morning classes and a work shift at the university library before you’d eventually have to face Jungkook head-on. 

Your Advanced Poetry class was small enough that all the students could sit around a large table together. The small, intimate class size made it easier for collaboration and made workshops feel a bit less ruthless. You’d gotten to the point that you could read anonymous poems from each of your classmates and know exactly who wrote what. You were like a little family who met every Wednesday evening for two hours and poured your thoughts, dreams, fears, and goals into each other with every written piece. This class was going to be what broke your heart when the semester was over; you could already feel yourself missing it. 

“Alright, y’all, we’re going to workshop the imitation poems from the exercise last week.”

You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. Whatever else Professor Mendez was saying didn’t compute; she sounded like she was speaking underwater and all you could do was shift your eyes to look at Jungkook across the table from you. You hadn’t expected him to be already looking at you nor for him to hold your gaze until you quickly looked away. 

The poem you’d written for the exercise was about Taehyung. 

You’d thought only your professor was ever going to see it. And now she was calling on you to read yours aloud first. No one else would know who it was about, but you knew Jungkook would know. 

“Y/N?” 

Professor Mendez looked at you, her star pupil, with an encouraging smile. You swallowed, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze though you felt him staring. If you kept the piece of paper on the table in front of you, you wouldn’t risk showing everyone that your hands were slightly trembling. And then you opened your mouth. 

I SAW YOU ONCE IN A FEVER DREAM 

(After Kaveh Akbar)

I saw you once in a fever dream shirtless 

swaddling me in a hammock hanging from cedar trees  

When you smoke it gets stuck  

in your hair Save it for later The smell of marijuana 

 and strawberry vapes     lingered in my clothes     In another fever  

dream you were my mother The doctor asked if I am 

allergic to any medications and I should  

have said yes but it is only you 

 I have felt love flow through me I have never felt  

it given My friend once told me 

there is only so much you can do  

At what point am I the problem 

 Sometimes I stare at the wall and peel the nails 

off of my fingers for every time you broke me 

Somehow it feels better this way  

It was depressing, pathetic even. Sure, you’d imitated Kaveh Akbar’s unique writing style to a T, but now you looked stupid for writing about a man you’d never even dated, who had unofficially “dumped” you last spring semester. Jungkook had to know. Unless he was completely oblivious (which was honestly likely, when you really thought about it). And maybe you were being too cocky, assuming some guy who you meant nothing to would care or even pay attention to the fact that his friend had fucked you into a broken heart. 

You sat with tight lips as the class discussed your poem, a few people put off by your use of space on the page, others praising your unique way of formatting the stanzas. Jungkook never spoke, but he never did until the end of class when Professor Mendez called him out for being silent. Then he would provide feedback for whoever had gone before him, his opinion usually directly contradicting whatever your professor said. She knew he wasn’t being defiant, and she welcomed his creative challenge of the status quo. But sometimes he was a bit much. 

“Well, Mr. Jungkook. Let’s hear yours.” 

You could feel the entire room both tense and lean forward, as if scared but also unimaginably eager for whatever it was they were about to receive. 

“I didn’t finish, but I can read what I have. It’s a prose poem.” 

UNTITLED

I met her in the evaporated residue of a midnight bong rip. Among glimmers of artificially-simulated worlds, of over-saturated hues. Hurried hues of a purple-pink bruise, bloom, slippery between thighs. Tongue flicks. Slide. These things only happen behind closed doors. An eternity of almosts, she likes to wear my hand as a choker. Drag me whole into desire, into pink folds and broken promises. Drip slick slow stroke glide and move inside, eat feast thrive. Beat it up every time. Pulsate. Pulsate. Own it. My hands on your hips. Blindfold over your eyes. Selfish fuck. I am a decomposing mind; her body whispers otherwise. 

Jungkook could have written a poem about dog shit and the way he recited it would have been breathtaking. It didn’t matter that his lines were verging on pornographic for an academic setting; simply the way the alliteration flowed like honey from his mouth was enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. The words came out like a gentle lullaby of filth, a smooth mantra, a promise of sin. It was no wonder the classroom fell silent. Even Professor Mendez stared at Jungkook with an unreadable expression on her face. 

“Thank you, Jungkook,” she said after a moment. 

He nodded politely and slouched into his seat again. 

Professor Mendez looked around the room for the first volunteer to take a stab at critiquing Jungkook’s poem. Only a brave soul could manage, and you were determined to keep your mouth shut. You could already visualize the way your classmates were going to gossip about this once class was over. You wondered how long it would take for Courtney and Amiriah to find out. 

“Who would like to go first?” 

It appeared the class had very few critiques, likely because no one wanted to dive too deeply into the abstract and overtly-sexual writing that had been. 

Professor Mendez went on a mini rant about the importance of knowing how to keep the flow of a prose poem that somehow derailed into a story about her new puppy. Perhaps someone had gotten her going to kill the last few minutes of class until it was 8pm and she was forced to let the group of you go into the night. 

You always managed to be the last person leaving the classroom every Wednesday night. Usually it was due to your prolonged conversations with Professor Mendez, the two of you gushing over a new poetry collection or the latest episode of a TV show. Jungkook, on the other hand, was typically the first to leave. Likely to go find his little crew of delinquents to do drugs with or whatever else they got themselves into. 

Except apparently not today. 

As you waved a goodbye to Professor Mendez, you headed down the empty hallway fully aware of the second pair of shoes echoing in the silence along with yours. Your insides were still scrambled from the series of exceptionally unfortunate events that had involved Kim Taehyung in the past twenty-four hours. You had no desire to entertain Jungkook, especially not after him staring you down all of class. And reading that fucking poem. 

“Are you really gonna ignore me?” 

You squeezed the straps of your backpack and stopped in front of the door to leave the academic building. If you acted bothered it would make you more suspicious. And it would let Kim Taehyung continue to rule your mind. You were better than this… 

So you turned around to face the doe-eyed boy and tried not to imagine his hand squeezing your throat. 

“I’m not ignoring you.” You cocked your head to one side in feigned confusion. Jungkook met your look with a small pout. 

“I’m sorry if I did something to upset you yesterday.” 

So, he didn’t know. Either that, or he was lying. But didn’t Immanuel Kant say lying is bad? You did everything in your power not to scowl to yourself. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I swear.” You let out an irritated sigh, casting a glance behind your shoulder as you heard thunder ripple through the air outside. You’d obviously forgotten to check the weather that morning, looking down at your t-shirt and shorts. 

“Okay…” He eyed you skeptically, but he didn’t want to push you further and threaten pushing you away completely. “Can I walk with you?” 

“Of course.” He lived literally across the hall from you. You could open your door and be face-to-face with his. 

“Okay… Can I give you a hug?” 

You rolled your eyes so far and deep inside your skull it was a surprise they didn’t detach and disappear somewhere. It wasn’t fair that you were taking out your frustrations on Jungkook simply because your ego was hurt. That self-awareness was what made you nod your head with your arms outstretched. 

Jungkook enveloped you in his large frame, the side of your face pressed against his chest. One of his arms wrapped around your waist, and he held the back of your head in his free hand. There was something about Jungkook’s closeness that caught you off guard. Perhaps it was because this was the first time you’d ever hugged each other; you’d never been this physical with each other at all, actually. You weren’t much of the hugging type, anyway. 

Jungkook’s warmth made you settle into his embrace for much longer than you’d expected. He felt soft, safe. Even the chemical smell of paint that had seeped into his hoodie was welcoming. Despite the rumbling of a heavy thunderstorm outside, you could still hear his heart beat beneath you. Something about that realization made you pull away from him suddenly. It was just too… close. 

He stared at you with a wrinkled brow and the pout was slowly coming back, but he stayed silent. You couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Ready?”

 With raised shoulders you braced yourself for the downpour. 

By the time the two of you had sprinted across the courtyard, you were completely soaked. You felt your earlier frustrations melt with the water droplets gliding down your arms as you leaned against Jungkook’s equally-soaked body. He was nearly doubled over in laughter, shoulder pressed against the wall next to the front door of his dorm room. 

“You look like a wet cat,” he teased. 

“Oh yeah? Well you look like a wet dog.” Your poor hair was going to get embarrassingly frizzy if you didn’t take care of it immediately. 

Jungkook flashed you an evil grin and violently shook his head, sending water spraying all over. 

“Jungkook, stop!” you hollered, giving him a shove. “I feel so gross already.” 

You twisted around to fish out your dorm key from your backpack, but your fingers scraped the bottom of the pocket. No key. 

“Fuck,” you cursed, setting your backpack on the ground to search through more pockets. Giving up on that possibility, you checked the pockets of your shorts. Nothing. 

Unlocking your phone, your thumb hovered over your roommate group text, unsure if you should interrupt Amiriah and Courtney. It was a little after 8pm… Both of your roommates would be in their weekly sorority meeting that usually lasted at least an hour, if not two. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“I… locked myself out.” What a fucking rookie mistake. What was this, freshman year? “I’m pretty sure I left my keys on the kitchen table.” 

Now you were stranded in your hallway, cold and soaking wet. You could go downstairs to ask your RA to let you in, but she was a bitch. 

“You’re a mess. Come on, I’ve got clothes for you.” 

He didn’t give you the opportunity to protest; instead, he stepped inside his dorm without even so much as a look over his shoulder at you. 

Apparently your desire to be warm and dry was stronger than your fear of entering the Dorm Room from Hell. You’d never been in Jungkook’s dorm before, mostly because you didn’t want to run into Taehyung. 

The layout was the same as yours: full kitchen with adjacent living room, long hall with individual bedrooms that ended with a bathroom. The decorations practically screamed “guys who smoke weed” considering the giant marijuana leaf tapestry hanging in the living room and the multicolored string lights that hung on the ceiling casting a psychedelic glow throughout the dorm. An incense that smelled interestingly like the ocean was burning on the coffee table. 

You were pretty sure burning incense wasn't allowed on university property. Then again, neither was smoking weed in the parking lot, but Jungkook and his roommates did whatever they wanted. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or…?” 

Jungkook led the way down the hall, you trailing a bit behind him as you continued being nosy. As you passed the first bedroom, the door suddenly swung open, causing you to yelp when you were face-to-face with a rather grumpy looking man with shockingly green hair. The bleary look of his eyes told you he’d been asleep. 

“Why the fuck are you wet?” 

You did a double take, shocked at the roughness of the question from a stranger. Before you could answer, Jungkook was pulling you forward by the wrist. 

“Hyung, I went to the grocery store today. There’s tangerines on the counter.” 

The green-haired roommate grumbled a thank you and shot straight to the kitchen. 

“Just ignore Yoongi,” Jungkook whispered, stopping in front of his bedroom. “He’s a fifth-year senior and probably ready to burn the entire university down.” 

Jungkook’s bedroom was the exact opposite of what you’d expected. After seeing the chaos of his art studio, you’d thought his bedroom would be much of the same. Instead you were met with a simple, organized room. No clutter, no mess. Everything had its place, not an art supply in sight. Peaking over his shoulder, you saw even his dresser drawers were organized, each article of clothing neatly folded. That was likely why Jungkook was able to quickly pick out a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts to hand you. 

“Oh, and this,” he tossed you a towel, as well. “You can use the bathroom. I’ll be in here.” 

“Thank you,” you said with an appreciative nod. 

The skin on your fingers had wrinkled up from the rain and you pressed them into the towel to find some relief. Who knew the feeling of wearing dry clothes would be so sweet? You took your time in the bathroom, rubbing down every inch of your body. Unfortunately, even your underwear and bra were soaked. If you put on dry clothes over them, the water would surely bleed into the fabric. So you opted for going commando, to your dismay. At least Jungkook’s t-shirt was baggy enough that your chest wasn’t on full display, and it wasn't like anyone would know you weren’t wearing underwear. 

You caught a look at yourself in the mirror and laughed at how ridiculous you looked. It was like you’d come out of a really bad hip-hop music video from the early 2000s, literally drowning in baggy clothes. 

“Hey Jungkook… Do you have something I could put my clothes in?” You stood in the hallway in front of Jungkook’s bedroom, wet clothes in your hands. The door was closed and you were afraid of opening it if he was still changing. 

“You look cute.” 

You instinctively squeezed your bundle of clothes, turning your head to the side at the sound of that Mother. Fucking. Annoying. Ass. Voice. 

Taehyung raised an eyebrow at you, probably utterly confused as to why you looked the way you did, standing there in his dorm. You were determined to give him absolutely nothing. 

“So, you and Jungkook, huh?” 

A small smirk twisted at the corners of his mouth. By the way he was standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, it was clear that he wasn’t planning on walking away. 

“We just got back from class,” you said matter-of-factly. 

You focused on a spot on the wall to the right of his head when you spoke; it made it easier to look at him without having to stare into his eyes. Even though you found absolutely nothing about your statement funny, Taehyung started laughing. It was a low chuckle that brought that stupid smirk out even more. 

“Were you coming back from class at 2 o’clock this morning, too?” 

His eyes glinted with something that made a shiver shoot down the length of your spine. 

Luckily, Jungkook’s abrupt presence swinging the bedroom door open gave you and Taehyung someone else to focus on, and you could safely escape the fact that you didn’t have a witty comeback to shove in Taehyung’s face for teasing you about Jungkook. There was nothing there with Jungkook.  

He just gave nice hugs. And you respected his creative mind. And he had great taste in music. And you felt a little bit bad for him because people didn’t seem to give him the chances he deserved. And, wow, he was standing in the doorway of his bedroom wearing form-fitting gray sweatpants that sat low on his hips and you could tell that they sat low because he was shirtless. And your eyes were skipping down the path that his happy trail was leading from his belly button down to the strings of his sweatpants that hung down just on top of where you could make out a slight bulge in the fabric. 

“Y/N?” 

You quickly tore your eyes from Jungkook’s crotch to look at his face, not missing the way Taehyung’s smirk was growing even wider. You opened your mouth, then looked down at your clothes, then back at Jungkook. 

“She wants something to put her clothes in,” Taehyung admitted once it was clear you weren’t going to cooperate. “I’m going over to Natalie’s. Oh, and I dipped into your Trojan stash. Yoongi hyung didn’t have any and you have too many.” 

He flashed Jungkook a grin and pushed himself from his leaning position on the wall. 

“Have fun,” he offered over his shoulder as he walked away, heading to go fuck his girlfriend’s brains out. 

You were going to throw up. 

“What a fucking asshole,” you breathed through gritted teeth. 

Rather than be surprised at your cursing, Jungkook gave you a sympathetic look as he took your wet clothes from you to put in a small duffle bag. 

“I’m sorry…” he said after a moment, gesturing for you to step into his bedroom. He closed the door behind you and hopped onto his bed. Just as he’d done in the studio, he patted the space next to him to get you to sit with him. 

“C’mere.” 

“Jungkook, I don’t wanna bother you anymore. You’ve had to deal with me a lot the past 24 hours.” 

“Do I look bothered?”

You gave the boy a tight shake of your head and clambered onto the bed beside him, careful to sit hunched over a bit so your chest wouldn’t be too obvious. For once, he no longer smelled like paint. Instead your senses were overwhelmed by the strong scent of his laundry detergent, something akin to the ocean breeze of the incense the roommates were burning in the living room. He leaned his back against the headboard, but he turned at an angle to look at you from the side. 

“He told me about you two…” 

You felt your body stiffen at his confession and Jungkook rushed to finish his thought. 

“Not the details or anything. But just that you were hooking up.” 

Great. This was perfect. Leave it to Taehyung to treat you like a secret yet blabber to his friends. You hadn’t even told any of your friends about Taehyung. To this day, Courtney and Amiriah had no idea. And could you even trust Jungkook when he said the details were spared? Didn’t boys love to talk about their sexual conquests? 

“I’m sorry he’s such a fuckboy.” 

“Oh, like you aren’t, too?” 

“What?!” 

Jungkook stared at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden aggression. But you couldn’t stop yourself. The anger you’d let fester in you from countless boys quite literally fucking you over was all spilling over the top. It was just unfortunate that Jungkook was there to bear the weight rather than Taehyung; but you didn’t think he was wholly innocent either. College boys were entitled and selfish. Even though Jungkook had never done anything to you, you’d seen how some girls followed after him like he was some kind of mystery meant to be solved. He never explicitly talked about his love life with you, but you only took that as a bad sign. 

“Oh don’t act brand new, Jungkook. You literally make everything about sex. Literally all your poems are about eating pussy. You made that fucking painting of a naked women. And what the fuck is that?” 

Your arm shot out to point at a painting hanging on his wall that looked vaguely like an abstract rendition of a vulva. It somehow felt like the icing on the fucked up cake. 

“It’s called artistic appreciation!”

“You’re just as gross as Taehyung and all the other guys who just use women for their bodies and don’t give a fuck about how we feel or-”  

“Stop it.” Jungkook’s voice hit you like ice. You dropped your arm down and whipped your head back around to look at him, lips falling open at the harshness of his tone. 

“Don’t compare me to Tae. You don’t know what I’m like. You barely know me at all.” 

“That’s not-” 

“I said stop, okay?” he interjected again and the glare he sent you was enough to shut you up for good. Being scolded wasn’t exactly high on your list of favorite activities, especially not from someone you considered to be a friend. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire and you struggled to swallow down your words, shame creeping up your face in waves.

“I’ve spent the last four months in that poetry class watching you write about feeling broken and alone and misunderstood. And you know what I do? I invite you over to do homework ‘cause I know none of your other friends are studying English. And I asked you to go to Morgan Parker’s book reading with me ‘cause I knew you didn’t have anyone else to go with. And I invited you to my studio ‘cause you said you wish you were good at art and I wanted you to see that you could be good if you tried.” 

At this point his cheeks had turned bright pink and his hands were bunched up into fists in his lap. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t look away from the fire in his eyes. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel like you owe me anything or to get some kind of recognition, okay? But just don’t fucking compare me to Tae when all I’ve ever tried to do is make you feel less alone. I like you, a lot. And I don’t even care that you’re not into me and you’re still caught up on him. I genuinely just want you to be happy.” 

With his monologue over, Jungkook turned his head to stare down at his hands, leaving you to peer at his profile with your mouth hanging open. 

It was the most you’d heard Jungkook speak, ever. It was also the most expressive you’ve ever seen him. Despite his passion for art, Jungkook was a very level person; he was collected even in the most stressful situations. To see him visibly shaking as he raised his voice was upsetting. 

“Jungkook…” You reached out to touch his arm and your heart broke into a million pieces when he flinched. 

“It’s whatever.” 

But it wasn’t. 

You felt like shrinking into the smallest version of yourself and disappearing. You’d spent so much time aching over the wounds Taehyung had left that you hadn’t considered what you might be missing out on, or how you might have been hurting someone else. Your head was lost in the dark cloud hanging over you; your heart couldn’t see anything in front of you. Blinded by your own pain, healing long overdue. 

You were so fucking stupid. 

“JK…” you started again. Lifting your hand, you brought your fingers to his chin and encouraged him to turn his head to look at you. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I just… It hurts? I don’t know what to do with the hurt.” 

From Taehyung and every other reckless boy. 

You let go of his face and waited, holding your breath until your lungs burned. Much to your disappointment, Jungkook maintained that cold stare, his eyes boring into yours so deeply that you felt like he was seeing something inside of you that even you didn’t know. You were afraid to look at him, shame making it difficult to hold your head up.  

“Give it to me.” 

“What?” It was your turn to cast your eyebrows down in confusion. 

“Give me the hurt. You don’t have to hold onto it anymore. I can take it.” His large hand enveloped your own, thumb running figure 8s into your skin.

You tried to speak, but you couldn’t choke out even a whisper as his words repeated in your head. Give me the hurt. Your hands shivered beneath his and you looked away quickly, feeling that horrid prickling in the corner of your eyes. You were not going to lose it just because you were touch-starved and never once in your life had someone so soundly declared their desire to take on whatever pain it was that you were feeling. You liked to keep your pain a secret, only letting out emotions through your poetry. And even then, you wanted to separate yourself from it. Writing was like putting down your emotion, letting it exist outside of you, so you could live free from it. But that didn’t always happen the way you wanted it to. 

You blinked quickly, losing focus on Jungkook’s face until you felt something hot slip down your cheek and you realized you were crying. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, embarrassment flooding your chest as you tried not to hiccup. What kind of emotional disaster were you? As Courtney would say, it wasn’t very girlboss of you. 

“I can take it.” 

This time the embers had gone out in his eyes. Instead, his irises were pleading with you. You tried to cover your face with your hands, but Jungkook held them down. He brushed your cheeks dry with his thumb, cradling your chin in his palm. 

“You deserve better, okay?” 

It was difficult to believe, but the soft gaze Jungkook held made you want to think maybe he was right. But how could it be possible for someone to want to carry your burden for you? He had no reason to. 

“I’m good now,” you said after a moment, the tears dried and your breathing returning to normal. You wanted to give him an out, let him have the opportunity to feel like he’d done his part in case he didn’t really mean what he said. You refused to let yourself fall for anymore bullshit. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t have to lie to me…” 

There was that familiar line. You felt your eyes instinctually roll and you couldn’t stop the next snarky comment from slipping past your lips, using biting humor as a defense mechanism to cope. 

“Okay, Immanuel Kant.” 

Jungkook snorted, matching your eye roll, but he gave you a smile that reached his eyes. A classic Jungkook grin that had you giving a small smile in return and making your stomach flip like a fucking gymnast. It made you slowly float back down to reality and you remembered you were sitting in a shirtless Jungkook’s bed, his body leaned forward out of concern for you, his face mere inches from yours. Hand still cradling your chin. 

“Jungkook…” 

Your voice got caught in your throat with what little breathing you could manage. Then you watched his eyes drop to your lips as you whispered his name, and the melancholic look he gave you when his gaze returned to yours made you squeeze your eyes shut with guilt. He’d confessed his interest in you and you’d completely glossed over it. Not on purpose, but somehow you were making your feelings the priority once again. And now he looked at you like you were already gone. 

“Yeah, Y/N?” You opened your eyes at his call. 

“I…” 

You wanted to tell him how you felt, you really did. But life had taught you that in relationships there was always someone who cared more, and that person always got hurt the most. You just couldn’t keep being that person. 

Jungkook studied your face for what felt like an eternity. If he was expecting you to finish your sentence, he was certainly being patient. But it was the way his mouth turned downward into a small frown and his eyes traveled off somewhere behind you that told you he’d lost hope. 

Until he was staring at you once again and his grip on your chin tightened so subtly you almost didn’t notice. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

His voice came out low and thick. The tone sent a shiver down your spine and made goosebumps rise along your forearms. You’d never heard his voice drop so deep before, nor had you seen his eyes darken the way they had now. A spark of desire fluttered in your stomach and you felt nearly lightheaded from the way your body was hitting a peak level of anxiety over his question. If you said yes, were you just giving into yet another boy who would ruin you? And you believed Jungkook could ruin you. He was an artist; they were always trouble. 

But there was no denying the fact that your nervousness was merely a physical response to your interest in Jungkook that had grown exponentially over time. You were weak, and he was right. You did feel broken and alone and misunderstood. And you knew that sometimes Jungkook felt that way, too.

Just when Jungkook began to pull away with a look of rejection written across his face, you nodded. Unable to speak, you watched Jungkook’s tongue swipe across his bottom lip as he leaned in even closer. 

You were prepared for something much more lewd than what Jungkook gave you. Though your lips were parted, he didn’t invade your space. Instead of tongue and lip biting, you were met with a chaste kiss. His lips were soft and gentle, and the way his hand cupped your face made you feel secure, just as you’d felt when he hugged you. You’d never felt a sense of security with someone from a simple kiss. 

And then he was ending the kiss just as quickly as he’d started it, finally dropping his hand from your face. 

“Sorry,” he sighed, no longer meeting your eyes when he spoke. “I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t want you to feel like you had to agree to that…” 

It was your turn to shut him up. Maybe it was the remaining hormones swirling in your brain from having cried so much, or the adrenaline from being kissed by a man you’d tried to shoo out of your mind, but you felt bold enough to take his chin in your hand as he had done to you. You pressed your lips against his, this time forcing his mouth into a faster, deeper rhythm. The kiss was heavy and more desperate than the first. It was what you’d initially expected Jungkook to give you; a makeout that went hard and fast from the beginning, 0 to 100. That was what fuckboys did, wasn’t it? Anything to get their dick wet the quickest. 

It was what you were used to.

Your small hands found the tops of his shoulders, fingers running along his smooth, warm skin before you pushed him against the headboard. Swinging your leg over his, your knees sank into the soft bed as you straddled him. You adjusted slightly in his lap and the shift made your core press directly on top of the bulge in his pants that you’d admired earlier. This realization made the sudden heat between your legs melt like lava, and you ground your hips into his in a smooth but firm motion. 

The movement elicited a deep groan from the back of Jungkook’s throat, another sweet sound you’d never had the pleasure of hearing fall from his lips. With his lips parted from groaning, you took the opportunity to slip your tongue inside of his mouth. His hands pushed up the hem of your shirt just enough to allow him to reach the skin of your waist, gripping you hard as your body moved against his. 

“Y/N, wait.” 

Jungkook pulled back to lean his head against the bed’s headboard and you were met not with lust-filled eyes as you expected, but eyes that looked so deeply pained you almost wanted to avert your gaze. 

“I don’t wanna be a rebound. I want this to mean something, or else I can’t do this.” 

Jungkook’s voice came out hoarse, and it trembled. His eyes still held that undeniable sadness that reminded you that, once again, you had failed to see how your own fear of rejection had made you ignorant to the feelings you were instilling in him. Here he was, willing to give himself over to you, holding back because he was afraid that you would hurt him.

Once again, shame flooded your face as you frantically searched for a way to show that you needed this to mean something, that in just a few months he had become the most constant person in your life, the person you were most comfortable with even when all you often did was just sit and talk about life. 

There was an obvious way to fix this, but you still had that gnawing feeling holding you back. 

“I like you, too, Jungkook.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you spoke just barely above a whisper. If you didn’t look at him, the vulnerability of the moment would be easier to manage. “You’re kind and smart even though you’re always toeing the line of academic probation.” 

Your words came out rushed, the last comment making you let out a laugh that sounded more like a short burst of air, and you held onto his shoulders for dear life. 

“And you’re the most creative and imaginative person I’ve ever met, but you’re so lowkey about everything. You deserve more than you give yourself credit for,” you continued, eyes still closed. “And… I guess you’re kinda hot…” 

With that you slowly opened one eye to peek at Jungkook’s face. It was embarrassing to say that the grin he wore made your heart soar and it was only then that you noticed the way his fingertips were running along your sides, tracing invisible designs onto your skin. 

“Only kinda hot?” 

“Oh shut up.” 

You gave him a playful slap against his chest. You let your hand linger there, palm pressed against him to feel the strength of his pec muscle. With your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you ran your hand down the length of Jungkook’s chest and along his abdomen until you reached between your bodies to access the hem of his sweatpants. 

Without warning you gripped his cock, palming it over his pants. You felt it twitch beneath your fingers, already semi-hard and warm even through the fabric. Jungkook let out a low groan, hips slightly bucking into you. Suddenly aware of how painfully clothed you are, Jungkook slid his hands back up your sides, pushing his t-shirt off of you in the process. Ruining the orderly look of his bedroom, he tossed the t-shirt and brought his attention back to you. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he hissed, realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

You shuddered at the gentle way he ran his fingers up your sides once more and you leaned forward when his tattooed fingers lightly pinched one of your nipples until it went hard. Then he moved onto the other one, tweaking it slowly. 

After a moment you let go of him and reached for the hem of his sweatpants, waiting for him to lift his body so you could pull them down his legs. 

He’s big, bigger than you’d expected. You’d imagined he would have a nice dick, purely because it seemed like the most mysterious, standoffish guys always did. They didn’t have to compensate by being boisterous and arrogant; they knew what they were packing and that was enough. But Jungkook was quite possibly too much. You were a small person, for fuck’s sake. 

“We don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready, we can stop.” 

There was Jungkook reading your mind, yet again. How was it possible for him to know exactly what to say every single time? Were you just that expressive? If so, no one else in your life read you so well. 

“Stop talking,” you repeated his earlier command, but you didn’t look him in the eyes. Instead you were focused on how heavy and soft his cock felt in your hand as you admired him. You ran your fingers along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, then you glided your thumb along the tip to smear the bit of precum that was already leaking. The action made Jungkook whimper and the sound sent a jolt straight into your core. 

But just before you could lower your head down to give him what you knew he wanted, Jungkook’s hand was cupping your chin once again. He pulled your face upwards to guide you back to his. 

“I’m fine, Jungkook. I want to do this,” you assured him, but he slowly shook his head. 

“You’re going in so fast, and you don’t have to. I’m not some asshole hookup. The point of all this isn’t just to get me off and make you put in all the work.” He leaned forward to kiss you on the tip of your nose and you’d never felt more wanted in your entire life. “You deserve to feel good for once.” 

Snaking his arm around your waist, Jungkook gently flipped you onto your back. Spreading your legs apart with his knees, he kneeled over you as he began laying hot kisses down the length of your neck, pausing only to suck at the soft skin where your neck and collarbone met. 

“Jungkook…” you sighed, squirming underneath him once his mouth began to travel further down. 

He flicked his tongue against one of your nipples, drawing a circle around the erect mound. He let out a deep hiss of approval when you moaned, arching your back to push yourself against his mouth. While his tongue was busy exploring your chest, Jungkook took his sweet time pulling his basketball shorts off of you, those too flying across the room. 

When he moved back into a comfortable position between your legs, his thigh brushed against your core and he let out a moan loud enough you were sure his roommates would hear him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you could’ve warned me you weren’t wearing any underwear,” he groaned, his thigh now glistening with your arousal. 

“Sorry I didn’t think to tell you while I was crying.” 

“So dramatic.” 

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment that bore even deeper into your soul when a pathetic whimper escaped your lips the moment you felt Jungkook’s hand slip in between your thighs. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he sighed, effortlessly sliding his fingers along your folds. He ran his fingers up and down slowly as if he were memorizing each crevice and the way your legs jumped when he hit a certain spot, especially once he began stroking your clit. 

He was exploring, you realized. He was learning your body and there was nothing more embarrassing. All you could think about was the fear that Jungkook might not like what he saw. Or that he was comparing you to his past fucks. Or that Taehyung had told him things about your sex life. 

“Why are you hiding from me?”

You felt your hands being pried from your face and lifted over your head. Jungkook pinned your wrists above you, his face now inches from yours. You could see a restrained wildness in his eyes, but his eyebrows were knitted together in frustration. 

“Why?” he repeated. 

You shook your head, but another irritated call of your name made you question your decision to defy him.

“I just don’t want you to be disappointed…” you whispered, avoiding his gaze. 

“Does this seem like disappointment to you?” Jungkook rolled his hips into you, his now rock hard cock sliding against your dripping folds. 

“Ahh, n-no,” you gasped, wiggling under his hold. 

“Okay, so don’t hide from me. Let me take care of you.” 

Letting go of your wrists, Jungkook got off of the bed. You watched him with confusion that slowly melted into a mixture of anxiety and sweet anticipation as he hooked his arms around your thighs, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Falling to his knees, Jungkook let your legs rest on his broad shoulders. You could feel his breath against your skin and it took everything in your power not to begin squirming again when you felt his tongue lick a hot stripe up the inside of your thigh. 

“I want you to watch me while I eat you out,” Jungkook murmured, his dark eyes locking with yours as he leaned forward to plant a kiss against your lower lips. “Okay?” 

You had no choice but to nod in compliance, propping yourself up on your forearms so you could get a better view even though everything in you was screaming to break your gaze. You could hardly believe it was Jungkook staring at you through his bangs from between your legs. Not to mention you were usually very shy when it came to being sexually pleasured - mostly because it rarely happened. Guys were always expecting you to do them favors, not the other way around. You couldn’t even remember the last time a guy had gone down on you. 

But there was no time to be shy when Jungkook abruptly plunged his tongue into your folds. You let out a loud yelp and immediately slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle the remaining squeals threatening to slip from your parted lips. Jungkook chuckled at your response and the vibration made your cunt throb. 

Still, you kept your gaze locked with his as he lapped up your juices, no matter how dirty it made you feel to have those blown out pupils bore into yours. Your eyes only fluttered when his lips found your clit and began to suck on it while his tongue flicked a steady rhythm against it, the two sensations proving to be almost too much for you to handle. Your breathing became ragged as you felt your abdomen tense up. 

“Jungkook,” you whispered a moan, hands gripping the bed sheets so tightly your fingers started to hurt. 

“Hmm, baby? You’re gonna have to speak up.” The new nickname made you whimper. 

As if to encourage you to find your voice, Jungkook slid two fingers inside of you as he returned to pleasuring your clit. The sudden stretch immediately ripped a strangled moan out of you and your hips involuntarily bucked into Jungkook’s face. 

“I’m sorry,” you quickly apologized, but Jungkook only fucked into you harder, expertly curling his fingers at just the right spot to make your legs start to shake. 

“Don’t apologize. You can fuck my face all you want,” he lifted his head up to lick his lips, sending you a wink that made your heart stop. 

He could sense your orgasm coming soon by the way your walls were clenching around his fingers, but he was determined to make it as mind-shattering as possible. Fitting a third finger inside of you, he continued to suck on your clit, tongue swirling to the rhythm of his fingers. 

“Ohh, oh my god,” you sobbed, tears pooling in your eyes as you finally reached your climax. You let out a loud cry, fingers tangled in Jungkook’s hair as you struggled to still your shaking legs. 

Licking a final stripe up your lips, Jungkook lifted his head from your thighs and gave you a satisfied grin. He was truly a sight for sore eyes with his mouth soaked in your arousal and his hair a mess from your fingers running through it. You fell flat on your back, legs dangling off the edge of the bed. 

“You good?”

“I’m going to die.”

Your eyes were on the ceiling but you heard him laugh and you felt his strong arms lift your legs back onto the bed, adjusting you so you were comfortably in the center of the mattress again. 

“Damn, I didn’t realize I was gonna make you tap out so fast,” he teased, lying down beside you. He pressed a kiss against your throat. 

“Everyone says you have great head game and I should’ve taken them more seriously.” 

“Who says that?!” 

You turned onto your side to face him, already rolling your eyes. “Don’t you know the rumors that get spread about you?” 

Jungkook gave you a small shake of his head. “I don’t worry about people. I’m only worried about you.” 

The warm fuzzy feelings his words gave you were too much for you to bear, so you pushed them away by pulling him closer, crashing your lips into his. Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you flush up against his chest. You could feel his cock still hard against your leg and it reminded you that this whole situation felt so foreign to you. Never had you been pleasured by a man who expected nothing in return.

“You are art, you know that? A fucking masterpiece,” Jungkook sighed against your lips, pulling away to nuzzle against your neck. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yes, baby?” There was that fucking nickname again making your pussy flutter back to life. 

Instead of answering him, you reached down to grab his cock. He groaned against your throat as you gave him a few slow pumps. He’d taken care of you just as he’d promised, and now you hoped he’d let you take care of him. Not because you felt obligated to, but because you genuinely wanted to. 

Wordlessly, Jungkook rolled you onto your back so that he was hovering over you, his forearms on either side of your head. 

“I want you so bad,” he growled against your ear, hips rolling into your open legs. 

“What are you waiting for?” you whispered. 

“Fuck…” 

You blinked and he was no longer on top of you. Instead he was rummaging through the drawer of his nightstand, eventually pulling out a shiny square packet. For someone normally so calm, Jungkook’s fingers were shaking with need as he rolled the condom on. 

“Is this okay?” He returned to his position between your legs as you laid on your back. Your heart stung at his thoughtfulness, shocked that he was asking you what position you wanted him in. You nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. Jungkook ran his fingers along the inside of your thighs, his head dipped down so his bangs fell forward, partially obstructing your view of his face. 

You gasped when you felt something wet hit your cunt. He’d spit on you. You could feel the extra lubrication slide down your folds and the lewd act made you shiver. Sure, maybe that was fairly tame for some people, but it had your head reeling.  

Holding the base of his cock, Jungkook rubbed the tip along your folds, further smearing his spit and your arousal together. 

“If you want to stop, just tell me,” he said hoarsely, and that was the warning you got before he was sinking his cock into your entrance. 

Despite how relaxed and turned on you felt, the stretch was considerable. You tensed for a moment and Jungkook froze, his eyes meeting yours. With a nod of approval from you, he pushed himself in further, finally bottoming out and holding the position as he waited for you to adjust. You felt so unbelievably full with him inside of you and the pressure of him against your walls was enough to make your legs shake once again. 

After giving you a bit of time, Jungkook began to move his hips, starting with slow but long strokes that got increasingly deeper. 

“Oh god,” he moaned, head hanging down so he could watch his cock disappear into your cunt over and over again. After a while he lifted one of your legs to rest it on his shoulder so he could adjust his angle to thrust into you that much deeper, and the next slam of his body into yours that had his cock make direct contact with your g-spot made you scream. 

“Shit, Y/N, Yoongi’s gonna kill us if you keep screaming like that,” Jungkook said with a grin that very much made it seem like he wouldn’t mind dying for such an offense. 

“You… just feel s-so g-good,” you cried out, your nails clawing at Jungkook’s arms as you searched for something to hold on to. 

He couldn’t possibly have been concerned considering he only thrusted into you even harder. The thing about Jungkook, though, was that he was going hard but he was going slow. He was savoring every time he slid into you, savoring the glisten of his cock as he pulled out. Turning his head to the side, he kissed the leg he’d draped over his shoulder, one hand running down the smooth skin while his other held on tightly to your hip to keep you in place. 

“Fuck, yes baby,” Jungkook groaned. He pressed his fingers against your mouth, gently prying your lips open to stick his thumb in your mouth. The action surprised you, but you obediently sucked on his thumb until he was pulling away again. Reaching between you, he pressed his now wet thumb against your clit and began rubbing circles as he fucked you. 

You whined at the sudden stimulation, your walls fluttering around his cock as your breathing turned into panting. “I’m gonna…” you let out another moan, your walls clenching around Jungkook’s cock. “I’m gonna come again.” 

“That’s right, come on my cock for me, baby. Let go for me.” 

How could Jungkook make dirty talk sound so alluring? So supportive? It was just like his writing, a gentle lullaby of filth. From the look he’d given you earlier, you knew there was a less tame side of him you’d yet to tap into. The memory of his poem flooded your mind, daring you to take things a step further… she likes to wear my hand as a choker...

Reaching out, you grabbed the hand that was holding onto your hip and brought it to rest on your neck. You saw that same wild look flash in Jungkook’s eyes once again, and you knew the action had affected him because his thrusting faltered for a moment. With your lips slightly parted, you tilted your head back slightly to expose more of your throat for him. Jungkook wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a sight more beautiful. 

“Shit, you keep acting up like this I’m gonna fall in love,” he grunted, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he opened up his palm to get a firm grip on your neck. As he resumed his rhythmic thrusting, he squeezed your throat. At first, the decrease in oxygen had you gasping in your body’s natural drive for self-preservation. Once your body and mind adjusted, though, you succumbed to the way your body tingled with excitement. When you moaned, your eyes fluttering and rolling back, Jungkook applied even more pressure. 

You’d never imagined you’d have another orgasm somewhere inside of you so soon after the first, but you were convulsing around Jungkook’s cock just as he asked you to, calling out his name in the sweetest song. 

It wasn’t long before his thrusts became sloppier and his grip on your throat became almost too tight. The string of profanity he growled in your ear as he came made you shiver. Was it really possible that you affected him so deeply? 

Jungkook hovered over you for a moment, attempting to catch his breath. 

“I think that’s the hardest I ever came in my life,” he said weakly, finally mustering up enough strength to pull himself out of you. He left the bed to throw away the soiled condom, you musing at his cute little butt as he sauntered away. 

“You’re welcome,” you said with a grin, though the hoarseness of your voice startled you. You pressed your hand against your throat and winced, not because your throat hurt, but because of the way Jungkook looked at you with deep concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked softly, climbing into bed beside you. 

“Please,” you sighed, snuggling against Jungkook’s chest. “You did me too good.” 

“I’ll fucking do you again, too, if you don’t stop rubbing your thighs against me,” he murmured in your ear, causing you to chuckle lightly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

A loud knock on the door made you jump, your arm instinctually covering your chest though you knew Jungkook had locked the door. 

“What the fuck,” he whispered, silently willing whoever it was to go away. 

The knocking continued, this time a bit more aggressively. 

“Open up, bro, the light’s on. I know you’re in there,” Taehyung complained from the other side of the door. “You’ve still got my pen.”  

Your eyes grew wide as you looked at Jungkook. 

With a groan, Jungkook got out of bed once again. Grabbing the basketball shorts you’d been wearing, he pulled them on and snagged Taehyung’s vape pen from where it sat atop his dresser. He didn’t bother to put a shirt on or fix his sex hair. 

“Wait,” you whispered. “What about me?” 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Jungkook spoke at a normal volume as if to demonstrate how serious he was about not caring if Taehyung saw you there. 

“Seriously, JK?” Taehyung clearly thought Jungkook’s comment had been directed towards him. 

You quickly grabbed Jungkook’s t-shirt and pulled it on seconds before Jungkook swung the bedroom door open. 

You watched Taehyung’s eyes slowly scan over Jungkook’s appearance. His mouth twisted as though he were about to speak, but then he locked eyes with you where you still sat in Jungkook’s bed, probably looking just as fucked out as Jungkook did. 

“Here.” Jungkook dropped the vape in Taehyung’s open palm. “Need anything else?” 

Taehyung’s eyes made their way back to Jungkook and whatever snarky comment he’d been prepared to make before was now gone. 

“Nah, that’s it, thanks.” 

After a week of being exclusive with Jungkook, you felt the need to loop your roomates into the whole situation. Courtney and Amiriah were your best friends, after all. The three of you had been your own Golden Trio since day one freshman year, ending up in the same peer mentor group. The first time you’d all hung out together you’d gone to an off-campus frat party. Barely an hour in and Courtney had been throwing her guts up right into the pool. Needless to say, the three of you had never gone back to that house. As horrifying as it was, you felt like it painted the perfect picture of your relationship. You were all in it for the long haul, no matter how messy. 

But now you had to tell them you were dating the weird guy. 

You kept looking at your phone, checking the time. The two should have been out of their sorority meeting by now, which meant they could arrive at your dorm at any moment. Waiting was nerve-racking. You gnawed on a hangnail, only pulling your gaze from your phone when you felt Jungkook’s strong arms wrap around your waist. He pulled you into his lap on the couch and leaned into you, lightly brushing his lips along your neck, making you shiver. 

“Why do you act like you’re having me meet your parents?” he asked with a small chuckle. 

“Courtney and Amiriah are important to me,” you started, trying to find the correct words to explain your friends. “They’re also really… judgmental, but because they care about me. And they don’t trust men.” Which was fair. You did your best to look out for them as well. 

Jungkook hummed in response but didn’t speak. That didn’t surprise you. A man of few words, you knew he liked to have time to decide how he felt or what he wanted to say about things. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” you announced, standing up. Jungkook nodded and leaned back into the couch. Was it a good thing that he didn’t seem nervous? 

Of course the moment you entered the bathroom, Courtney and Amiriah came bustling through the front door. Their loud chatter quickly halted when their eyes fell upon Jungkook lounging on your couch, legs spread and tattooed arm draped across the back of the couch. 

“Hey,” he greeted them with a grin and a nod of his head. 

“Oh, um, hi?” Courtney’s greeting was more of a question. 

“Where’s Y/N?” What Amiriah wanted to ask was how he even got into your dorm, but she didn’t want to be rude. 

“I’m here!” You shuffled into the room, giving your friends a little wave. “Jungkook wanted to hang out here for a change.” 

The boy quirked his eyebrow at you and gave you an amused smile, noticing how you’d made it sound like it was his idea when it most certainly had been yours. Not that it bothered him. If anything, he wanted you to deflect onto him. He’d told you he could take anything you needed to give him, and he’d meant it. 

Jungkook got up from his seat and walked over to the three of you, hands in the front pockets of his jeans. The pose made his biceps and chest more prominent, and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment. God, he was too pretty. 

“I feel bad it’s the first time I’m finally meeting you,” he said in a warm voice. “Y/N never shuts up about how great you two are. Pretty sure I’ve heard the story of The Great Edible Debacle at the Dolph concert about fifty times.” 

You were shocked by how charming he was being. Really laying it on thick. 

“That is a horrible story to be telling people, Y/N! What the fuck,” Amiriah said with a laugh. “We’re only a little bit insane.” 

“And stupid,” Courtney chimed in. 

The four of you continued your bantering as you lounged around the living room, snacking on some food your roommates had brought as leftovers from their sorority meeting. Jungkook fit into the conversation rather neatly, talking a lot more than you’d expected, but still knowing when to sit back and let the girls dominate the conversation. He sat with his arm around your waist, keeping you close but not dipping into any PDA, knowing it would bother you if he did. 

The conversation came to a pause when Jungkook’s phone began to ring, all three pairs of eyes pointed in his direction. 

“Ah, fuck. Tae’s calling me,” he mumbled. “I’ll be right back.” As he stood up, he cupped your face for a moment, running his thumb across your cheek before he was bringing his phone to his ear. 

“Hyungie, what’s up?” Jungkook stepped out into the hallway, closing the front door behind him. 

“Girl, are y’all fucking?!” Amiriah leaned forward with a harsh whisper, excitement dancing in her bright eyes. 

“We’re dating, actually.” 

Courtney let out a squeal, bouncing on her knees where she sat on a pillow on the floor, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. “I knew it, I totally knew it.” 

“I’m gonna admit, weird or not, that man is foine now that I’m seeing him up close.” Amiriah loudly sucked her teeth and shook her head. “He’s got that snatched little waist. And those thighs? He could smash a watermelon.” 

“Okay, okay, but we gotta ask the REAL question here.” Courtney was now plopping down on the couch between you and Amiriah, blanket still in tow. “Did he eat it right?? In the words of Nicki Minaj, do he got good form??” 

You slapped Courtney on the arm in protest, but you were grinning as you spoke. “I almost started crying, it was so good.” 

“WHEW girl, stop it,” Amiriah grabbed your arm and shook it. “Are you willing to share? For charity?” 

Before you could scold your friend for trying to get her hands on your man, Jungkook returned. The shift in the room’s atmosphere was palpable, and the way Courtney and Amiriah watched Jungkook with new interest was almost too obvious. 

He gave you a confused smile as he squeezed onto the couch next to you. 

“So, Jungkook,” Amiriah began and you prayed to God she wouldn’t say anything stupid. “You said you heard stories about us, but we didn’t talk about all the fun things we’ve heard about you!” 

You shot your friend a glare but she was already on a roll with Courtney on her heels. 

“Yeah, we’ve heard all about your poetry,” Courtney added. 

You don’t think your roommates were prepared for the low chuckle that rumbled from Jungkook nor for the dark look in his eyes as he turned to you. He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers, and you silently pleaded with him to behave. 

“Yeah, I was trying to give Y/N a preview of what she could be getting.” 

“Jungkook,” you gasped and your friends started talking all at once, but all you could focus on was the way your boyfriend was smirking at you, his tongue playing with his lip ring how he knew you liked. 

He leaned into you, his lips ghosting your ear and sending goosebumps up your arms as he whispered, 

“Just wait until you come over tonight.”

Drabble 1

all rights reserved (c) gimmethatagustd on tumblr & ao3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work <3

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Gene... My baby mama... I need... More alt!dream... Whatever you got fr. I just need more I'm.. I love him (probs not as much as you) but I love him

You're in luck bc I'm running on rip fuel for him. [ALSO I WROTE THIS BEFORE EVERYONE DID THE TECHWEAR STUFF FOR HIM I'M SORRY. I'LL GET IT IN NEXT TIME. I PINKY SWEAR.]

𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐃. ♘ 𝐚𝐥𝐭!𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 (𝟏𝟖+)

pairing: alt!Dreamwastaken x fm!reader

warnings: smut (18+), language, semi-public sex, light mentions of needles, domination

previous part ♘ fanart that i can't stop crying over

recommended listening: Hi Frequency by Vague002

The bus swayed slightly, your grip on the cool bar tightening to keep you from knocking into Clay as it turned. The dark city outside the windows bustled with sparkling lights, catching your eye every few seconds. As more people filed into the cramped space, Clay grabbed your hand, looping your arms around his waist and smugly grinning as you fought not to blush. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Will this be your first time in a parlor?” He asked, voice low and raspy as he whispered to you, not wanting to disturb the other members of society who just wanted to get home after a long day of work.

You nodded your head, making him chuckle. You knew it would be a different experience, mainly because it was taking place during the tattoo shops “after hours,” which Clay had only briefly explained the benefits of attending. “What are you getting done again?” You asked, moving so your hands were holding onto his arm instead, fingers brushing against the exposed skin peeking from beneath the cut-up shirt under his dark jacket.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t decide. Why don’t you pick?” He joshed, smirking at the way your eyebrows raised.

“I don’t want to be responsible for a mark on you,” you murmured, making him snort.

He hooked his fingers into the neckline of his shirt, stretching it down enough to reveal the litter of hickeys peppering his skin that you had left the night before. Your eyes widened as you swatted away his hand, looking around carefully in hopes that no one had seen them. He looped an arm around your shoulders, loving the fact that you were so worried about the crowd when all he wanted to do was fluster you.

He pressed his lips to your cheek, the warmth of his body encompassing you. “I love it when you get all blushy,” he teased. “Seriously though, you should pick. I won’t look at it if I don’t like it,” he snarked.

You groaned lightly. “Clay, come on.” He brushed his lips against yours.

“I trust you, sweetheart,” he cooed almost mockingly, his nose moving to press into your hair.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, trying your best to remember what was already on his body. You thought about the impending reality that whenever he saw the new tattoo, his mind would linger on you, and for some reason, heat traveled to your ears at that thought. “Um… what about a bird?” You asked, voice uneasy as if on eggshells.

His face twisted into a pleased smile. “A bird?” He repeated. You shrugged beneath his arm, making him chuckle. “I like that. George likes doing bird tattoos too, so you might just make his night,” he added, his praise and approval making your stomach fill with confidence. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your shoulder. Your mind began to forget what the two of you probably looked like to the other people as his scent invaded your senses. “Will you hold my hand while I’m in the chair?” He joked.

You scoffed. “Are you gonna cry?” You teased, making him chuckle.

“No, I’m just clingy,” he answered without skipping a beat. Your grin was hidden in the soft corduroy of his jacket.

The tattoo parlor was nothing like you had expected. The door was locked behind you after a bouncer let the two of you in, the man leading you two up a staircase and into a dimly lit room. The sound of heavy metal music and the buzz of tattoo guns swirled together, echoing off the dark brick walls. You slipped your hand into Clay’s as he talked to the receptionist, your eyes attempting to focus on one detail instead of letting the atmosphere overwhelm you.

The thick layer of smoke above your heads made you scoff, realizing it was coming from the opposite corner of the shop, a hookah lamp sitting on a coffee table like an outstretched octopus. The people around it seemed to be discussing something rather intense, their haircuts sharp and defining almost as if they stepped out of some kind of alternative fashion magazine. There were three tattoo artists, each with a white lamp focusing on their work as they carried on to the beat of the music.

Clay’s description of the place flashed into your mind, making you realize just how off the cards the parlor actually was. Clay took a toothpick from the receptionist’s desk, taking it between his white teeth before being waved down by a shorter man with dark hair across the floor. You followed closely behind him as Clay greeted the man; you quickly realizing that this was the famous George.

As Clay shrugged out of his jacket, George pulled out a binder, standing beside you as he flipped to a page with scattered drawings of different flight poses of birds. Your eyes drifted away from the page as Clay’s arms came into view. His old t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off was doing wonders for his biceps. Before you knew it, the two of you agreed on a mix of a few designs resembling a crow and Clay was laying on his back with his hand tucked behind his head. The spot he was filling was in the dead center of the flesh of his upper arm; a spot that George had grumbled about being awkward to reach, especially on someone as large as Clay.

You watched closely with curious eyes as George began to tattoo the design on Clay’s arm. Clay’s other hand was wrapped around the back of your elbow as you leaned on the chair at Clay’s side. His finger pads drew circles into your skin as you asked George about how he got into tattooing, making small talk here and there.

You liked George, mainly because he was quiet until he conjured up some kind of relentless backhanded comment. His tattoos revolved around a giant tree stretching from his back and down his arms. You wondered how long he had to sit for it and what the healing process was like. As he worked, his teeth played at his snake bite piercings, his dark eyes focused intently on the work in front of him.

Clay switched his toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his hand tightening around your arm with a small groan as George reached a sensitive spot. “Don’t be such a pussy,” he grumbled, continuing his work. He stopped, cleaning off some of the sprayed ink and filling a new cap with grey. “You have any work, pretty girl?” He asked you, voice low and charming.

You shook your head, earning a small tsk from him. “This is the closest she’s been to a tattoo gun,” Clay prided, making George sarcastically raise his eyes.

“A total virgin, huh?” He joked, winking at you. “Dream’s not corrupting you, is he?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek trying not to blush. “I’m trying,” Clay leered, smirking at you with his smug ego hinting at his lips.

George bit back a laugh. “Don’t get horny in my chair,” he muttered, eyes trained on the lines he was scaring into Clay. “Speaking of, I heard you got busted up by Punz, and by the looks of it… seems right,” he commented, gesturing to Clay’s eye that seemed to have started fading finally.

Clay let out a dry laugh. “His ribs are still healing,” you added, making George smirk with a shake of his head.

“You know what all that’s about right?” George asked you, taking his foot off the pedal to grab more paper towels from his desk. You looked up at Clay whose jaw tense as he chewed on the toothpick. After you shook your head, George continued. “Punz’s sister is stupidly in love with Dream,” he plopped back in his seat, swiveling his chair, and drawing a hand through his locks, revealing the bleached undersection. You had the fleeting mental image of him tying his hair back to reveal it.

He pulled on a new glove. “Madly in love, huh?” You pried, twisting your chair closer to Clay’s shoulder. Clay rolled his eyes at the fact as if he had been bugged about it for years. “You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend, Clay,” you teased, and he looked up at you with a tired expression, making you bite back a giggle.

After George finished, you followed Clay through the door, breathing in the fresh air; or as fresh as it could be in the midst of the city’s industrial square. Clay’s fingers knitted together with yours as he led you down an alleyway, flicking aside the toothpick. You chewed on your lip in anticipation before he pinned you against one of the walls. His devious grin sent shivers down your spine as you looked up at him.

You swallowed. “Shouldn’t you take it easy? Let your arm heal a bit?” You asked, voice coming out in a soft whisper as his lips pressed against your neck. “Won’t it hurt a bit with your ribs, too?” Your heart hammered in your chest at the fact that someone could turn the corner and catch the two of you.

He chuckled against your skin, slipping his hands beneath your skirt to grip your ass. “I like the pain,” he mused, tongue grazing against your skin as he pulled your hips against his. He kissed you hungrily as if not being able to press his body against yours for that hour was too much for him. His hand dropped to wrap around the back of your knee, moving his own leg to prop your thigh up against his hip as your hands dug into his hair.

The friction from his jeans made you moan into his mouth as his hand moved beneath your shirt, fingers fitting beneath your bra to palm your breast. He mumbled praises against your lips at how good you made him feel and how beautiful you were.

He turned you, your hands planting against the coarse brick as he ground his hips against you. You bit your lip, trying not to be loud enough to draw attention to the two of you, which seemed to be the last thing on Clay’s mind as you heard him unbuckle his belt behind you. You could practically picture his cocky grin, controlling eyes set as his hand gripped onto your hips, shoving your underwear to the side. “You were so much fun to show off tonight,” he chided darkly, lips brushing against your shoulder. “Such a good girl.”

As he pushed into you, one of his hands moved to knot into your hair. He moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, tugging on your hair as he pulled your hips back against his. A low grunt tumbled from his lips as he set his rhythm, basking in the fact that you were secretly ready for him to ruin you as soon as you stepped into the parlor.

His fingers moved to wrap around your neck, the thought of his tattooed hand tightening around your pristine skin sent shivers through your body and heat flushing your cheeks, the tension in your body tightening. As he pressed you closer against the wall, you thought about the power he had over you; his height and build would make it easy for him to break you if he wanted, yet even as he pounded into you like he wanted you to forget your own name, the restraint he showed was enough to send you over the edge if you let yourself divulge in the thought.

Clay pulled out of you, only to turn you, your shoulders hitting the wall again with a soft thump as he hoisted you up ever so slightly, thrusting up into you as his hand dig into your thigh, the other resting against the brick beside your head. Your arms looped beneath his jacket, raking down his skin as you held onto him.

He groaned as your thighs tightened around him, making his hips stutter as if he were trying not to let himself finish too early. He dug is face into the crook of your neck, burying his teeth in your neck to stifle his grunts of your name. Your head tilted back against the brick, hand moving to tighten around the wrist that was beside your head for some kind of anchor.

His hand wrapped around your waist, driving himself deeper into you, brushing the part of you that needed him the most. You moaned, carding your fingers into his hair as he pressed his lips to yours roughly, wanting to taste your pleasure as it washed over you from his movements.

You tugged on his hair, making his cock throb inside of you, him finishing inside you with a low groan, his hips snapping against yours to stimulate a reaction from you. The feeling of his sloppy pleasure as his movements lost their rhythm sent your hips grinding against his, his teeth marking your shoulders as a reminder of his work on you.

Your toes curled, finally reaching your orgasm as he murmured dirty expressions of him ruining your pretty clothes against the wall. As he pulled out of you, your knees felt weak, threatening to buckle beneath you. You tried not to give off how much he had trashed you, but the warmth snaking down your thighs and your bliss-ridden mind proved otherwise.

Long story short, the bus ride home was rather interesting.

Dream Taglist: (follow this link to be added :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @unstableye @tinyegg @behzzyboo @darphobic @twist3dtinkerbell @sparkletash @lindsayhunz @shroomieissmall @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @victory-is-here @rat-poisin

[that-one-girl2020]

The Lonely Angel

A/N: This is pretty platonic, and the idea is inspired by another story on AO3, it’s great so I definitely recommend it. I don’t post often and this is the first story I’ve posted on here in a long time so hope you like it!

P.s.- Sorry if the formatting is a little weird, I copy and pasted from google docs...

An Enigma of Broken Wings by Catlorde

The Doctor stepped out of the TARDIS cautiously. Once more, the TARDIS had taken him somewhere he hadn’t been meaning to go, in fact, he was trying to take Donna to an alien market that he had once gone to. Instead, he poked his head out to find the TARDIS parked in the middle of a cemetery on Earth, around the same time that he had picked Donna up from if he was correct.

“Unless there’s another planet identical to Earth, I’m pretty sure we’re not on Kalla-whats-it,” Donna remarked as she followed behind him and they both looked around curiously.

“Uh, no, this is Earth, United States, Michigan, 2008 to be exact,” He tugged at his ear as he stuffed one hand in his jacket sheepishly.

“What are we doing here then? Or are you just that bad of a driver?” The redhead snipped at him and he rolled his eyes and huffed.

“I am the best driver around, I’ll have you know,” he snarked right back as they began strolling around curiously. “I’m not sure why we’re here but there’s no harm in looking around.”

The continued looking around quietly, looking for anything out of the normal that would have drawn the TARDIS and the Doctor there but there wasn’t anything out of place that they could find, no people, no signs of alien life or events. That was, until Donna took notice of a particular statue stationed in the center of the cemetery. “That statue sure is pretty, too bad it’s so run down,” Donna remarked as she gestured to said statue. “It’s a little sad though.”

At the center of all the gravestones, there was what seemed like a stone bench with a statue of an angel kneeled beside it, it’s arms resting on the bench with her head buried in its arms, its wings sprawled gracefully behind her and donned in a simple white dress that clung to her form scarily realistically. Like Donna had said, the statue was beautiful despite the obvious aging, the stone worn down, turning green from weather, plants starting to creep up her legs and dress, and stone chipped in some places. The only odd thing about it was the old radio resting at her feet, in a similar state as the statue itself.

At first, the Doctor didn’t think anything of it as they slowly approached the statue to get a better look at it. However, the Doctor pulled Donna to a stop when they saw a chipmunk climb up the stone and approach the bare arm of the statue and gently nudge it with its nose, as if the statue would come to life and pet it. Despite the gentleness of the scene, the only thing that happened was the chipmunk disappearing before their eyes.

“Donna, do not blink, do not look away from the statue, don’t touch it, and don’t blink,” The Doctor ordered sternly as he pulled out his sonic screwdriver to scan the statue quickly, not looking away for a moment.

“What, why? What is it?” Donna questioned, a hint of panic in her voice.

“Don’t look away from it,” the Doctor ordered once more when he noticed Donna turn to question him.

“Why? What is it?!” Donna asked once more, this time not moving her gaze away from the statue.

“A Weeping Angel,” the Doctor answered her solemnly as he continued to scan the angel and the stone she was sprawled against.

“Okay, and what is a Weeping Angel?” Donna fished for more answers, becoming irritated with the short responses.

“The kindest assassins in the universe. A Weeping Angel doesn’t just outright kill you, they send you back to the past to live out your life and consume the years that you should have had in the present, that’s what happened to the chipmunk,” The Doctor explained distractedly.

“And why can’t I look away from it?”

“Because they have the most solid defences in the universe as well. They’re quantum locked, as soon as they fall under the gaze of any living thing, they turn to stone, because you can’t kill a stone and a stone can’t kill you. But then you blink, you look away, and yes it can,” The Doctor finished ominously and the two were silent for a minute as Donna absorbed the information and the Doctor finished scanning the statue and looking around the area. “I don’t get it though, Angels usually hunt in groups, even if it's just a couple, like four or so. But this one is alone, there isn’t another Angel anywhere in the city, let alone the state. And the plants around it signify that it hasn’t moved in years, I’d say ten at the least, and erosion suggests that it hasn’t had significant food in the same amount of time.” The Doctor furrowed his brow as his thoughts raced, trying to figure out why the Angel was here. It wasn’t trapped, it wasn’t well fed, it wasn’t even in an area where it had access to people. “One thing is for sure though, this has to be the loneliest creature I have ever come across.” The Doctor continued to explain without being prompted, “Weeping Angels, even in groups, are still the loneliest creatures in the universe since they can’t even look at each other or they’ll turn to stone, freeze. However, Angels have a weak telepathic connection, allowing them to communicate on some level, which is why they stay in groups. But this one is by itself.”

The two of them frowned as they looked at the Angel, still tense but slowly relaxing as they realized that the Angel hadn’t moved even when the both of them had scanned the area to look for other Angels. “Poor thing, what do we do then?” Donna asked with empathy clear in her voice.

“I’m not sure, if we touch it, we risk being sent back to the past, without the TARDIS, leaving us trapped, but we can’t just leave it here,” The Doctor frowned thoughtfully.

The two of them blinked however when the radio flickered to life without either of them having touched it. There was static as the radio seemed to adjust before the sound of a young woman’s voice came through, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

The Doctor and Donna blinked in shock at the sound of the voice before the Doctor questioned, “Who are we speaking to?”

There was a pause as the voice seemed to think for a moment, “Me, I think.”

“Whose voice are you using?” The Doctor asked, a little bit of anger in his voice as he knew somewhat that the Angel wouldn’t have been able to use the voice without spending time around said person.

The voice paused once more, “I think it was mine.” The Doctor blinked in shock as Donna frowned, confused.

“What do you mean?” Donna asked softly, concerned for the statue she held empathy for.

“I used to draw a lot, I think. I saw an angel statue once, in the park near my house, and I drew it. I stared at it so long, my eyes started to hurt. I got dizzy and fell. It was late. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t move. Then I was stone,” The woman explained, the sadness in her voice obvious as she tried to remember the events. The Doctor and Donna’s hearts clenched painfully as they realized that this was once a woman with a life and a family. “The other one didn’t like me. She didn’t like that I didn’t send them back. She and the others left. I stayed.”

“What happened to your family,” The Doctor asked softly, even though he could figure out what happened.

“They were sad. They left too. They took everything but this stone. They left this stone here. Animals keep me company. They’re kind. They feed me when I’m hungry.”

The Doctor nodded as that explained what had happened with the chipmunk earlier. He thought it odd that an animal would approach a Weeping Angel so willingly. He went around to the other side of the bench where there was an inscription, what they had thought was a bench, was actually a grave.

“In Loving Memory of…

(Your Full Name)

Daughter

Sister

May 8th, 1976-October 20th, 1998

“Life is more than just what we see…” ~(Y/n)”

He looked down sadly as he realized this was the woman’s own grave and she probably didn’t even realize it. She sounded like an amazing woman, it was difficult to think that a woman he would have liked to meet was now reduced to a statue living, no, existing off the kindness of the animals around her.

Donna joined him on the other side of the stone and gasped softly as she came to the same realization, “Your name was(Y/n)?”

There was another pause as the Angel thought for a moment, trying to remember, “I… think so.”

“It’s a beautiful name,” The Doctor remarked softly as they gazed down at the Weeping Angel.

“Is it? I think I liked it too,” the woman replied thoughtfully. It was sad for Donna and the Doctor, that this woman was once living a bright and happy life, and now she could barely remember it.

“Doctor, we can’t just leave her here,” Donna told him softly and he agreed silently even though he had no idea what they would do. He was reluctant to bring the Angel into the TARDIS as it would be an eternal food source for the statue. However, he couldn’t leave the once human woman here to slowly waste away as stone.

As if knowing his thoughts, the woman spoke once more, “It’s okay, you can leave me here, the animals are kind to me,” She spoke simply as if that was all she truly needed, which made the Doctor’s hearts clench even tighter. He knew what it was like to be by oneself. That deep sense of loneliness that settled into your soul and wasn’t easily shaken.

That just solidified his decision, “You can come with us. The TARDIS can make a room for you and we can visit you everyday. You don’t have to be lonely anymore,” The Doctor offered kindly.

At that moment, both Donna and the Doctor blinked, and in that split second, the Angel turned their head to look up at them in shock, which they returned. The Angel had her hair tied up in the same fashion as any other Weeping Angel, a little more softly so that some hair could frame her features, but her face was significantly different. Instead of the sharp teeth and frightening snarl that he expected, they were instead greeted by soft features and a kind face. She was beautiful. “Really?” She questioned innocently.

Neither of them responded for a moment, shocked by the beauty of the statue before them. After shaking themselves from their surprise, the Doctor answered her innocent question, “Of course. You’ve spent enough time by yourself.” After a moment of hesitation, the Doctor looked away, offering his hand to the statue in a show of trust, which Donna followed. For a minute, the Doctor waited, he was about to take his hand back when another hand slid into his. It was a strange feeling. A living hand of stone that wasn’t quite stone at the moment. When he knew she was standing, he began walking back to the TARDIS, Donna walking alongside him, opposite the hand that was holding the Angel’s, (Y/n)’s. It was a strange walk back, both having to fight the urge to look back at the Angel as it would halt their progress.

Once the trio got to the TARDIS, the Doctor hesitated for a moment before opening the door to his most precious belonging. Then, he tightened the hold he had on the Angel’s hand as a reminder of what he was doing and why. This woman had been alone long enough. He led the woman down the hall that the TARDIS lit for them, leading them to a new room that neither the Doctor or Donna had seen before. The Doctor opened the door to what looked like the outdoors, a large field of long grass and wildflowers, in the distance, they could see a lake in the distance with a willow tree next to it and a forest beyond it. It was a beautiful setting that fit the Angel behind them.

The both of them closed their eyes to let the Angel ahead of them to familiarize herself with her new home. “Thank you,” the Woman breathed softly in awe and the two opened their eyes. The Angel had set the old radio she had carried with her down at her feet as she had wandered a few meters into the field, now frozen in a standing position, her head tilted back in the light as she soaked in the sky and the artificial sun pleasantly. The Doctor could feel the slow yet steady stream of energy the sun gave off as the Angel revitalized before their eyes, the signs of weather and corrosion fading away. She was even more beautiful now than when they had first seen her, now that she was whole and they could see her face. Unlike Weeping Angels who were Angels their entire existence, (Y/n) was a light grey, unlike the ominous dark grey of other Weeping Angels.

“We’ll leave you to explore, the TARDIS will transmit you to wherever we are in the TARDIS if you want to talk,” The Doctor told her kindly and as he blinked, she turned to look at him with a smile that warmed his hearts, glad he made the decision that he did.

“Thank you,” She repeated once more.

The two left the room, closing the door behind them as they returned to the console room. After a moment, Donna spoke, a content tone to her voice, “We did good today, eh, Spaceman.” His hands rested comfortably in his pockets as he thought back to the kind Angel they now housed on the TARDIS. “Life is more than just what we see…”

“Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

The End

[inkandpen22]

Chaotic as The Sea (3/?)

Pairing: Jack Sparrow x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3k Warning: swearing, violence Part Summary: The Black Pearl arrives in Bimini and as any adventure with Jack Sparrow, there’s chaos

Masterlist

Two days later... 

Will

We arrive at Bimini as the sun begins to set. Y/N and Barbosa argue that we should wait until sunrise to explore the island. I argue that we can't waste another minute without trying to rescue Elizabeth. Jack, to my surprise, agrees that we shouldn't wait. Though, I think his reasoning is because he wants to see the fountain. 

Barbosa, Jack, Gibbs, Ragetti, Pintel, Y/N, and I all hop off the boat to explore the island. Gibbs, Will, and Pintel all carry long torches for us as the only sources of light. 

"Okay, so I know the general direction, but unless you feel like risking the chance of getting lost, which I don't, I suggest we use the compass," Y/N announces. 

"I thought you were certain of the fountain's location," Barbosa remarks a tad agitated. 

"Every tree and speck of white sand look exactly the same. Next trip, I'll drop your ass in a jungle in the middle of the night and tell you to find your way out!" She snaps. 

"Okay, well then let's use the compass." Ragetti takes the compass of Jack's belt and hands it to Y/N. 

The device begins to spin in her hand and Ragetti peeks over her shoulder. Jack quietly moves to stand beside her, wishing to catch a glimpse of himself. 

Abruptly, Y/N shuts the compass and frantically tries to get rid of it. "Oh uh, no it's okay, Jack can take it." She tosses it to him. 

"Me?" He looks at her wide-eyed and panicky. "No, give it to Will! He wants to find the bloody place." He tosses it to me. 

"What's wrong with you two?" Barbosa yells in frustration. 

"The compass doesn't work for them," I state. 

"Seriously!" Y/N huffs. 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Barbosa questions. 

"When Jack holds it the arrow points to Y/N," I explain pointing between them. 

"Who told you that!" Jack questions. 

Then, Jack and Y/N both glare at Gibbs. "Gibbs!" They bark in unison. 

The older man holds up his hands in surrender. 

"Well, why can't Y/N do it?" Pintel questions timidly, circling his hands together. 

"Why can't Will just bloody do it and we can move on!" The woman challenges. 

Jack nods. "I'm with her on this one." 

I sigh. "When Y/N holds it, it points toward whatever she wants so bad in New France." 

"But isn't New France North of here?" Ragetti questions. 

"Yes!" The rest of us answer in unison. 

His face scrunches together in confusion. "But uh-" 

Y/N elbows Ragetti in the ribs. "Shut it!" She's quick to change the subject. "Let's go! Will! I'll lead the way, you just act as a checker." 

_______________________________________________

30 minutes later... 

Y/N

As the seven of us continue to march through the thick jungle, Jack appears beside me. "After we're finished in New France. I say you and I pay a visit to Tortuga for old time's sake." 

I laugh. "Ha! Wish to relive our break-up?" 

"Think of it as a celebration of our reunion," he tries to sugarcoat it. 

I roll my eyes, laughing as I move ahead to join Will up front. "In your dreams!" 

Ragetti

I pick up my pace to catch up with Pintel. "I know something you don't know!" 

"What?" He eagerly asks. 

"When Y/N was holding the compass, the arrow was pointing toward her," I whisper. 

His face scrunches together. "Y/N desires herself?" 

"No!" I huff. "Jack was standing next to her!" 

He gasps, putting it all together. "So you mean-" 

"Yes!" 

He grins. "That's kinda sweet actually." 

Y/N

"Now be careful!" I announce to the men, watching my step as we get closer to the mountainside. "The natives made pit traps and other boobytraps-" 

Before I can finish my warning. Jack screams from the back of the group. When I whip my head around, Jack is nowhere to be seen. "For idiots like Jack," I sigh. 

"Does anyone see him?" Will questions, moving his torch around. 

"It's kind of dark!" Gibbs remarks. 

"Thank Jack and Will for that! They refused to wait until morning," I grumble, marching back to where I last saw Jack.  

"Jack!" We all call in a scatter as we search. 

"Captain!" Gibbs shouts. 

We all watch our steps, checking the heavily covered jungle floor and sky for any sign of him. He could be hanging from a tree in a net or in a hole somewhere. If it's deep enough and well covered, it'll be hard to hear him.

"This is ridiculous!" Gibbs huffs. 

"I say we leave him and tell the crew some natives got him," Barbosa suggests.  

"I have an idea," I announce as one pops into my head. "Give me the compass," I ask Will, holding out my head. 

"But how will that help?" He questions with a raised brow. 

I hold the compass in my palm and lift the lid. I watch as the arrow spins. Soon, each of the men are gathered around me in a circle, eager to catch a glimpse. Then, the arrow stops, pointing Southeast. The men break apart, allowing me to follow it. 

"Watch your step," I advise. 

I keep a close eye on the arrow, making sure it doesn't change direction. I'm about to take another step when Will suddenly grabs my arm. I glance ahead and realize there's a massive pit in front of me. Its edges were covered in leaves and brush. 

"Oh, thanks," I exhale deeply. 

"Captain! You down there?" Gibbs shouts down below, holding a torch above the massive pit. 

I kneel down beside the pit and await an answer. 

There's a faint, "Am I dead?" 

I giggle and shout back. "No, you're not dead you idiot!" 

"Pintel! Ragetti! Go fetch a rope from the ship!" Barbosa commands, sending the two off. 

I laugh, relieved that Jack is okay. Based on the distant swooshing sound, the pit is filled with water thankfully, not spikes. This could've been a recovery mission. I sit back on my knees and glance up to find the remaining three men staring at me with knowing grins. 

"What!" I sass, crossing my arms over my chest. 

"Nothing," they all say, breaking apart to roam in different directions. 

I roll my eyes, such nosy people, pirates. 

____________________________________________

The men work together, yanking Jack up from the bottom of the pit. I remained to kneel beside the edge, holding up a torch so we can see Jack when he pops up. 

"Ho!" Barbosa calls out as they tug the robe. "Ho!" 

Soon, Jack appears from within the darkness and I grip his belt, guiding him to safety. The men release the rope and relax, releasing panting breaths. 

"You okay? Captain!" Gibbs questions. 

"Yeah," Jack flips onto his back, catching his breath, "yeah, I should be fine. How did you-" His eyes flicker about until his eyes land on the compass on the ground beside me. 

"Ah, now that's interesting." A cheeky smirk begins to form on his face as he lifts his gaze to meet mine. 

I shove him in the shoulder, frustrated. "I told you to watch where you were going!" He has no idea how worried I was. 

"I was a tad distracted by you, Love," he chuckles. 

My eyes fall shut as I release a sigh of relief. Thank God, he's okay. 

Jack places his hand on my thigh, capturing me by surprise. His dark eyes meet might and I place my hand over his. He flips his over and they interlock in my lap. His eyes soften at the sight. 

Suddenly, there's a series of yells from across the jungle. Each of us tosses our heads to the side and sees small glimmers of light in the distance. Jack flies up beside me from his laid position. 

"Are they with us?" He questions. 

There's the ring of a gunshot and the bullet hits the tree right by Barbosa's head. 

"Don't think so!" Will declares, his voice shaky. 

"Who are they?" I shout. 

"Wait! They're Black Beard's men! I remember one of them. He's the one who took Elizabeth!" Will determines. 

“How did they find the fountain?” Barbosa yells. 

“He knew you’d come and find me!” I comprehend and look over at Jack. “He’s been following us here!” 

Pintel and Ragetti immediately make a run for it. 

“I’m with them, time to go!” Will decides and starts to run back to the ship. 

Jack takes my hand and instantly brings me to my feet. We begin to run too, hand in hand. 

“Cowards!” Barbosa shouts and stands his ground. He whips out his gun and begins to shoot at the mob. “Come and get it you slimy gits! Ha!” He laughs. 

Running utterly blind in the dark jungle, there’s hardly any light other than that that can make it through the tree tops from the moon. We make it through the jungle and see the beach a few yards ahead. Will and the two morons make a bee-line for the ship, when they’re suddenly stopped by a cluster of Blackbeard’s men running from down the beach. Jack pulls me into his side and draws his sword.

 Suddenly, I feel a hand wrap around my wrist and I’m yanked away from Jack. He immediately whips around and his eyes grow wide. My back slams into someone’s chest and I struggle to free myself. More of Blackbeard’s men appear from within the jungle and begin to fight Jack. Two men begin to drag me off and I fling around, trying to break free. 

"Jack!" I scream. “Let me go you bastards!” 

Jack searches for me and when he finally spots me, he screams. "No!" He looks at me pleading and full of guilt. 

As more of Blackbeard’s men appear, we both quickly realize there’s nothing either of us can do. These morons are taking me to their ship, more than likely to see their captain and to be held prisoner. This is yet another reunion I did not request. 

______________________________________

After sailing out to the Queen Anne's Revenge a couple hundred yards from the island, the nasty men take me aboard and immediately drag me off to the captain’s quarters. They swing open the double doors below top deck and we enter a familiar red velvet decorated office. 

A tall man stands behind the desk with his back to us. "And who do we have here?" A familiar voice purrs. When he spins around, his grin falls to confusion. "Y/N?" 

"I told you! Idiots!" I huff and yank my arms free from his buffoons."Hi, Eddie," I offer a fake smile.

"Eddie?" The pair beside me repeat in unison. 

The captain pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "How many times must I tell you?" 

"You could hand me the Templar Treasure yourself, I won't call you Blackbeard. It's stupid," I laugh, approaching him. 

"Leave us," he commands his minions. Once we’re allow, he moves to stand the other side of his desk. He props himself against it with a grin. "So, you and Jack are back together again..." 

"No way in hell," I snicker, taking a look about his office. He’s changed it in the last five years. "He promised me he knew where the Templar Treasure was, I'm simply completing my half of the deal." 

"Which is?" He inquires. 

I stop my admiring of his decor to meet his gaze. "Showing him to the fountain." 

"You would honestly betray me like that?" He acts offended my placing his hand against his chest. 

"If it guaranteed me the Holy Grail? Yes,” I stand firm. 

"Your loyalties still lie with that treasure? You truly are a pirate at heart,” he smirks. He rises from his position on the desk to pour us chalices of wine. As he approaches me, his eyes travel up and down my entirety. "Dare I say, you look amazing." 

I accept the wine, but roll my eyes at his compliment. "Oh save it.” 

He pouts dramatically. "What happened to the spirited eighteen-year-old I first met?” He reaches up and tucks strands of my hair behind my ear. “You're bitter now." 

I lift my arm and knock his hand away from me. "It's called maturing." 

"Have you matured enough to conclude that I'm the better man than Jack?" He smirks, stepping closer to me. 

I move away from him and toward the book case against the far wall behind his desk. "I think I prefer neither of you,” I answer over my shoulder. 

"One point, if I recall correctly, there was a point where you couldn't choose between us." He narrows his eyes, taking a sip of his wine as he creeps closer to me again. "Do you remember those few months in Bermuda?" 

I shift of my heels, allowing my eyes to fall to the Persian rug beneath them. "It was always going to be him, Eddie..." 

Abruptly, he rushes toward me and pins me against the bookcase. My wine falls out of my hand and stains the rug. "I could've had you if I wanted!" He growls. 

I look him dead in the eyes with a clenched jaw. "You dare threaten me!” 

He laughs mockingly. "What? Going to curse me?" 

I grin. "That used to terrify you if I recall correctly." 

"You're all bark and no bite. I happen to know for a fact, you don't practice dark magic!" He challenges. 

"Just because I don't practice it, doesn't mean I don't know how to use it.”  

There’s a commotion outside and soon the double doors swing open to reveal Jack marching in, gun drawn. While Eddie is distracted I pick up a vase off one of the shelves near me and I knock him over the head with it. The vase shatters into a hundred pieces over his head and the man falls to the ground with a thud at my feet. My chest rises and falls rapidly as I meet Jack’s gaze. His eyes flicker away from the man knocked out on the floor and up to me. 

"I hate that I'm relieved to see you," I pant. 

He runs over to me and takes my hand. "Consequence of loving me." He guides me over to one of the windows and swings it open. “Can you jump?” 

I look at him as though he as three heads. “Can you jump? What kind of dumb question is that?” I mock. Then, I ask him a similar dumb question. “I don’t know Jack, can you swim?” I roll my eyes and climb up onto the windowpane and jump out. 

“Jesus, Mary, and the bloody camel sorry for asking!” I hear him grumble under his breath as climbs out the window and jumps in after me. 

___________________________________

Jack

We’re not sure how we’ll get Elizabeth back, but we will. Though, I suspect that he was never after the fountain. No, what he truly wanted was Y/N and the fountain was just a cover-up. I brought her right to him. For now, we just need to create some distance between us so we can form a plan. 

Y/N climbs the ladder above me and Gibbs helps her on board. She offers him a thank you and brushes herself down. The crew is well into their tasks, getting us far from this island as soon as possible. 

“Glad to see you’re safe, Miss,” Gibbs greets. 

“Did everyone make it back okay?” She questions as I climb aboard. 

“Yes, even I,” Barbosa announces with a proud grin. “Not with the help of you lot,” he adds. 

“Don’t exactly have a death wish,” she giggles. 

“There’s a change of clothes for you in the Captain’s office,” Gibbs informs her. 

She offers him thanks and begins toward my quarters. Barbosa and Gibbs break apart to return to their positions. 

“You! Hold it!” I call out. 

The two men glance in my direction, wondering who I’m speaking to. They follow my gaze to Y/N. 

She whips her head around, her gorgeous, long, wavy, Y/H/C flowing in the breeze. She crosses her arms over chest. “Excuse me?” She scoffs with a grin forming on her lips. 

I narrow my gaze at her. “I have one question.” 

Barbosa and Gibbs watch the interaction, their heads tilting back and forth between us with each exchange. The crew too watches as they attempt to multitask with their duties. Her eyes remain on the deck panels and anywhere else but me. 

“Did you know the compass would lead you to me?” I ask. 

There’s a pause and I can tell she’s reluctant to answer despite the amused expression she wears. Then, her eyes rise to meet mine with a sigh. “Yes... maybe...” 

I smirk, approaching her slowly. “Oh see now that’s interesting, don’t you think?” 

“What? Just going to gloat about the ship now?” She rolls her eyes, directing her focus in the distance away from me. 

I bring my hands up to her cup her face and make her meet my gaze. To my surprise and pleasure, she doesn’t move from her spot or shove me away. Instead, brings her fingers to hook through the loops of belt. 

“You stay with me from now on. No more hiding out.” I smirk. “That’s an order,” I tease quietly between us. 

“Whatever you say...” Her eyes fall to my lips and then flicker back to my eyes. She grins. “Captain.” 

One my hands slips behind her head to her neck and I bring my lips to meet hers in a needy kiss. Her arms fling over my shoulders, deepening the kiss. 

“Now they’re going to be insufferable!” I hear Barbosa grumble to Gibbs as he stomps off. 

Five years of searching for her, waiting for, wondering if I’ll ever see her again. What happened between us all those years ago is one of my greatest regrets if not the biggest. Our relationship has never been easy, in fact it’s exceedingly complicated and one giant headache. We haven’t stopped arguing since the moment we met and rarely agree on anything. Yet, we love as we do argue with each other, passionately and with everything we have. Now that I have Y/N back and I know she loves me in return, I’m never letting her go. God help me if I let Blackbeard anywhere near her. 

_______________________________

Masterlist

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[letterstotheflre]

i'd beg you on my knees

summary: you loved sirius's fingers, but there's something you craved more.

warnings: oral sex (male receiver), daddy kink, a bit of religious imagery (you know how it is), a bit of spitting, mentions of throat training and finger sucking, i think that's it?

word count: 2.5k

a/n: as a celebration for passing my chemistry final and 300 followers, here is the second part to the sirius corrupting you series :)

ps: i know those look like feminine hands, but pretend they are sirius’s okay i spent 2 hours looking for something to use and that’s the best i got

you couldn’t stop staring at his hands.

you had always loved them. they were big, always completely encasing your smaller ones, and full of rings, some of which you made yourself. the skin on his palm and finger pads was a bit rough, a consequence of years of holding a bat to hit the bludgers away from his teammates. but there was still a slight delicate appearance to them, courtesy of the black family genes which, despite years of slight inbreeding, somehow still managed to make some of the most attractive people in the wizarding world.

you loved the way they felt against the small of your back or your waist, always letting some warmth seep through the fabric of your clothes. you loved the way they cupped your cheeks before he leant down to kiss you, slightly squishing your cheeks and puckering your lips for him. but ever since that afternoon a few days ago, you adored the way they felt in your mouth.

you tried to be subtle, you really did, but it was impossible to stop staring at them. you couldn’t forget the weight of his fingers on your tongue nor the way they hit the back of your throat. the feeling of having them in your mouth brought a strange sense of comfort to you, it was like having a piece of him always inside you.

and sirius noticed. of course he did, you were one of the only things he deemed important enough to pay attention to, followed by the phases of the moon and any updates on the 5-year plan james had made to woo lily evans. and because he liked seeing your glazed over eyes and heating cheeks when he caught you staring, he started to show them off on purpose.

he started to talk with more hand movements, followed by always playing with any stray hairs around your face. he started to use his thumb to play with your bottom lip before kissing you, almost giving you what you wanted but then taking it away from you.

he caved in when he saw how truly needy you were for them. the teary eyes and little whines you made every time he pulled them away from your mouth were almost enough to make him hard, so he allowed you to suck on them every now and then. he watched attentively as you slightly hollowed your cheeks when he used both his pointer and middle fingers, sometimes trying to get as much of them inside you as possible.

so he started to push your limits, drawing circles against the back of your tongue before he pushed them further, not warning you before they entered your cavity, yearning to hear what other pretty sounds you could do besides moaning and whining. you had gagged violently the first time he did it, and you looked at him confused at the sudden intrusion, “remember the first time you sucked on them? remember what you wanted them to be?” you nodded slowly, embarrassed that he could recall how much you wanted other parts of him inside you. “I gotta stretch your little throat, bunny. gotta get you all ready for my cock.”

and that was that. the following days were spent with you either on his lap or on your knees in front of him, long and thick fingers prodding the back of your throat constantly until it only took you less than five minutes to get used to the feeling of something residing in it. sirius never let up, even if you had some tears in your eyes caused by the intrusion, always giving you new learning material: breath through your nose, relax your throat, open your mouth wide. his instructions ran through your brain every day, an urgent need to remember them controlling your thoughts.

and that’s how you were now, on your knees in front of him like a repentant while sirius sat on the edge of the mattress, mouth wide open as you waited eagerly for his fingers. you watched, intrigued, as his mandible moved around almost like he was collecting something. your unvoiced question was answered when his face came close to yours, his hand tangling itself in your hair to tilt it upwards, and then his spit was dribbling onto your pink tongue.

the sight of him spitting into your mouth sent a thrum of pleasure to your core. “swallow,” he said, leaving no room for disobedience. You followed his command, letting it fall down your throat as if it were your forbidden fruit, and once you opened your mouth again his fingers went in, immediately pressing on your tongue. you swirled your tongue around them, covering them in your saliva before he started to push them further. you only gagged a little, the previous lessons having already prepared you.

he let you suck on them a bit longer before removing them, watching as your hands scrambled to his wrist to keep them close. he shook his head, chuckling in amusement, “you needy thing.” he patted your head, “I think you are ready for my cock, angel, do you want it?”

you opened your eyes wide, looking like a kid in a candy shop. “yes, please!” your voice was a bit hoarse, “wanna make you feel good like you made me feel the other day, siri.” the smirk he wore on his lips when he heard your eager ‘yes’ fell into an honest smile, “oh I bet you’ll make me feel better than that, bunny.”

you watched from your position on the hardwood floor as he rose to his feet, unbuckling his belt and pulling the zipper down. he let his jeans fall to the floor, now only clad in his underwear that would soon meet the same fate and you wiggled, eager to finally see him. once he was completely naked he sat back on the bed, spreading his legs so you could kneel comfortably between them. he was already a bit hard, courtesy of the image of you suckling on his fingers so needily, but he still needed a little push before he was ready for you.

you were entranced by him, this being the first time you ever saw someone other than yourself completely naked. he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and you could see the slight ripples of muscle on his abdomen and the stray tattoos that adorned his skin here and there. he had a few scars, some of them caused by his parents' punishments and others from a few accidents during the full moon, but he was still absolutely beautiful.

and then your eyes fell lower, down the happy trail of hair that led to what you had been craving since that fateful tuesday afternoon. it was big, even though you had never seen another cock you couldn’t deny its length. there was a vein on one side that stood out a bit, and the tip was a bit red and something shiny was coating it. “can I please touch it, daddy?” you asked sweetly, wanting to remain on his good side.

the name had accidentally left your mouth a few days ago when you were suckling on his fingers. you were just so needy, so desperate for their weight on your tongue that your mind had started to feel fuzzy, and the nickname just slipped out.

your cheeks had resembled the heat of a fire, still sober enough to realize your mistake but when you saw the way his eyes had darkened and his grip on your waist tightened, you repeated it. he had cursed, voice low as his other hand cupped your cheek. “you want daddy’s fingers, hm?” he questioned, forcing you to tell him with your words what you wanted when you merely nodded. and that was a new lesson, ask for what you want and you were to only refer to him as daddy in private.

“go on, angel,” he said with a nod of his head. slowly, you moved one hand closer, still a bit hesitant with your movements. though eager to learn, you were still scared of doing something wrong and stop being his good girl as he had called you multiple times while he watched as you touched yourself for him. he would sit in a chair in front of the bed as he told you what to do and when to cum, and the rush of power he felt was extraordinary.

one finger traced the vein, the soft touch making sirius twitch. the skin was warm and actually pretty smooth, with a couple of ridges here and there. gently, you closed your hand around the base and moved it up and down, and sirius groaned. the soft touch drove him insane, your palm barely gripping him, “close your hand a bit more, puppy,” he instructed. you gripped him more tightly, “it won’t hurt you?” you asked.

sirius just smiled at your thoughtfulness, “no, baby, it’ll feel really good. just don’t add too much pressure as you did with your nipples the other day,” he slightly taunted. you blushed at his teasing, “didn’t mean to do that, daddy,” you grumbled and unknowingly thumbed at the slit of the tip, making him moan in pleasure. the sound was so heavenly in your ears that you did it again and again until one of his hands gripped your hair so you looked up at him.

“you’re teasing me now, bunny?” he said harshly, “that’s not how it works and you know it. d’ya want me to stop you from cumming again like I did yesterday?”

you shook your head quickly, or as much as you could with the grip on your hair, “no no, m’sorry, daddy, didn’t mean to.” but he just chuckled, an empty sound that wasn’t as nice as his previous moans. “oh, you didn’t mean to! like you didn’t mean to tug on your nipples. like you didn’t mean to wear that tiny skirt the other day. like you didn’t mean to cum without my permission three days ago.” he started to list all of your accidents, “is there anything you do mean, angel?” he asked harshly.

your lips slightly quivered at his tone, ashamed at making him angry when all you wanted was to please him. “I want to make you feel good, daddy! m’sorry, I promise I’ll be better. I’ll be your best girl.” you tried to convince him, and you really did mean it. all you wanted was to be good for him.

“well, then put my cock in your mouth and show me y’can be good.” with that, he moved your head closer towards him, and then slackened his grip. you looked at him while giving the tip a little kiss, then using your tongue to collect the pearly white liquid that had collected there. it tasted a bit funny, saltier than you remembered your own cum to taste, but it wasn’t necessarily bad. then, using the flat of your tongue, you moved along the length, using one hand to keep it straight.

sirius was biting his lip as he watched you, his little angel on her pretty knees about to suck him for the first time. after a few more teasing licks, you finally took him into your mouth, and the moan that escaped sirius was incredibly sinful. your mouth was so warm and so wet that the only other place sirius could ever possibly want to be in was your pussy.

you swirled your tongue around the bit that was inside your cavity, your hand still stimulating what you couldn’t fit yet. he was big, too big for your mouth, but you wanted to fit all of him inside, so you took a deep breath through your nose and tried to relax both your mandible and your throat before taking him deeper. you pushed as far as you could, staying there for a couple of seconds before pulling apart, heaving another deep breath before repeating your actions. you gagged and choked at the progressive obstruction, yet you pushed through it, but it sounded so good in sirius’s ears that he thought about just pushing your head down without warning.

sirius threw his head back with a groan when you started to hollow your cheeks, “fuck, angel, you’re so good, taking me so well.” he praised, and it made you shiver in pleasure, the meaning of his words accompanied by his gruff voice a perfect melody. you raised your eyes to look at him. he looked beautiful like this: head thrown back, lips red from biting them, completely exposed for you and one hand gripping the sheets while the other grabbed your head.

you pulled away with a pop, “y’look so pretty, daddy,” you complimented him, and it made the tension in his stomach tighten significantly. it was such an innocent compliment in a completely unholy scenario that he couldn’t help but twitch in your hand. you had just wrapped your lips around him again when he said, “not as pretty as you with m’cock down your throat,” and it made you giggle around him as you shied a bit at his words. the vibrations of your little laugh could’ve sent him over the edge, “shit—” he cursed.

you took him deeper than ever before, your throat now used to the intrusion and barely even gagging. sirius started to raise his hips, almost face fucking you but he held back some of the strength in his thrusts. you kept your eyes on him, and fuck you looked so good with your mouth full and those watery eyes and flushed skin that after a few more thrusts he pulled you away.

you whimpered, not understanding why he stopped your movements. there was still a string of saliva that connected your mouth to him, and he sped up his hand movements as he looked at your sinful image. “daddy,” you groused, tongue out so he could put it back in.

“fuck, angel, m’gonna cum,” he moaned, “n’ I’m gonna paint your little face, d’you want that?” he asked, slightly panting through his exertion. but you shook your head, “m’mouth, want to taste you,” and that did it for him. he cursed and moaned, all at the same time, as that wave of pleasure swallowed him whole. white spurts fell on your tongue, a few others coating your cheeks, and he looked so sinful while working through his orgasm that you had to clench your thighs together.

once he was fully spent, he watched as you eagerly swallowed what he gave you, showing him there was nothing left. his hands went to your cheeks, cleaning his cum from your face and forcing you to clean them, too. it was so dirty that he felt proud of what he made of you, his cock twitching once more before softening.

“was I good, daddy?” you asked him with a slightly raspy voice. you were looking up at him as if he were your god, his opinion of the highest importance to you. he smiled proudly, his fingers now playing with the chain that had a little ‘s’ that rested just between your collarbones. “the best, angel.”

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