#what did nari draw today

[virgilisspidey]

The Eternal Child of Flower Fruit Mountain

(click for better quality)

Close up

How's we doing with chapter 13, gang?

[whorechives]

satoru has an onlyfans?? well, he is pretty, why not capitalize on it?? „ ♡ “ he's always been a bit of an attention whore. — satoru gojo x dom!reader.

cw ,, [i don't know how OF works cuz i've never used it, so this may not be entirely accurate to the site.] edging. decided to take a break mid post. part two coming in the future. this is so bad ugh

“it'll start soon, so face the camera, satoru.” you purr, gently turning his face to the webcam atop his main monitor. bringing that hand down with the free one, you spread gojo's thighs, exposing his already half-hard cock covered only a pair of lacy underwear.

scrolling through the posts, you felt a mix of emotions stirring within you—anger, jealousy, betrayal—but every time one of satoru's provocative (damn near nude) pictures, or videos of him touching/using toys on himself, you couldn't help admiring your husband's beauty.

you knew gojo was photogenic, but damn.

it was hard to stay mad at him. it's his body. satoru is very pretty as well, why not capitalize on it? that would explain why his onlyfans was so expensive. one hundred dollars a month? and people actually pay for it? pretty privilege at it's finest. or maybe the subscribers are just down deplorable. you couldn't blame them, honestly. this filled you with a sense of pride, knowing that you were above them—having satoru all to yoursel–

wait.

thinking back on it, in nary a single post did satoru mention that he was in a relationship—let alone married. you tapped your fingers on the countertop in veiled anger. that anger almost came unveiled as gojo sauntered into the kitchen without a care in the world (as usual). despite your feelings being well hidden, he noticed right away, not that it was surprising to you.

“i don't know what you're upset about, or if it has anything to do with me, but can i make it up to you?”

the corner of your mouth twitched at your husband's words—threatening a smirk, but you somehow forced it into a soft smile. “i'd appreciate that.”

satoru squirmed a bit on your lap. this sudden possessiveness and pettiness you seemed to have gained was a bit worrying, but the anticipation of what you might do aroused him more than anything.

the second monitor's screen lit up from standby mode, indicating that the stream had started. within seconds, the chat was flooded with comments, most of them asking about satoru's ‘guest’. “you gonna answer them, ‘toru?” you ask, your fingers playing at the man's inner thigh, drawing a quiet whimper from him. you chuckled softly at this. “did you all know? this little attention whore is married. not for a long time, but still married nonetheless.”

“honey, please..” gojo whispered almost inaudibly.

“don't worry, he'll continue being a camslut for you all.” you continue, taking hold of satoru's now fully erect cock through his lingerie. it twitched lightly in your hand, from the touch or your harsh words, you honestly didn't know. “but for today, i'm going do what you all could never.”

notathrowaway379 : bro stfu fraud ass

黄花闺女 : am i being cucked rn? kinda liking this

cxltlead3r [top fan ★] tipped $50! : edge him pls <3

seeing the last comment onscreen, you smirked slightly. for some reason, you felt like you had an idea of who the tipper was. “oh, i was just thinking about that. great minds really do think alike, huh? thanks for the donation, by the way.” you slowly pumped satoru's dick, holding him in place with your other arm. you held back a laugh as he pathetically tried bucking his hips up into your hand, only for it to be in vain.

gojo whined softly in defeat—the poor man couldn't help moving his hips. he couldn't get enough of your touch and being watched by god knows how many people somehow made him feel more sensitive under your treatment. “wai.. the underw—”

“i want you to make a mess of these pretty panties for me. not for your fans. for me.” you growl, working gojo's cock faster. his back arched slightly against you as he let out a surprised gasp at the sudden increase in pace. satoru probably didn't realize it, but he was leaking through the panties already. it didn't really matter if they got ruined, anyway—you could always buy him a new set. as you continued, your voice took on a gentler tone. “but not until i say so, doll. be a good boy and hold out for me, okay?” you pressed a kiss to the side of his head. again, satoru cried out quietly as he struggled under your hold.

user474367 : he'd look better in my lap fr

ur_mum69 : ngl im more jealous of gojo here

🎐 ! : @eccedentesiast-sapphic , @gaynesspersonified , @ksoj , @sinfuldxlight , @theirbf , @supernova07 , @5starr-staciii , @ambro-season , @sensivs , @demovamp ✦

interested in a certain whore? sign here to be notified of new releases!

[buckets-and-trees]

Consort

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Namor x female!Reader Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Diplomatic fraternization is never easy and situations can turn on a dime. When you accompany your father to negotiate future ties between your two underwater kingdoms, one mistake changes everything.

Content Warnings: SMUT, thigh riding

Additional Notes: Before this week it had never even as a WHIM come across my radar to write anything Namor. But two-almost-three-days ago @artsynellyyy shared a ridiculously gorgeous unfinished piece of art she was working on, asked for some input, and it spurred a plot concept that just GRIPPED my brain and had me feeling THINGS. I don’t think I will be writing a lot of Namor, but I do know there’s certainly a part two to this because…there’s more story for these two in my head. There’s a particular moment that exists for them that as this developed, I knew could not happen yet for them, it would’ve been too rushed. So… just… Happy fourth installment of the 2022 Holiday Extravaganza!

A/N 2: Be gentle! This is my first attempt at Namor. I did some canon diving and research, but I did not dive deep into the Namor fandom because I didn’t want to get too influenced about established patterns or too intimidated about what’s already out there. Honestly kind of terrified to publish this one, so just... jumping out of the airplane and pulling the parachute okay bye.

“Let us speak without pretense,” the king of Talokan’s voice resonates powerfully through the throne room. “Tell me why you sought private audience with me today, Hamal.”

Standing at the right hand of your father, you observe the way he draws his shoulders up just a fraction more, the way his nostrils flare just before he speaks again. “Fine, I will speak plainly, Namor. Your recent dealings with the surface, particularly with the kingdom of Wakanda, is concerning to the kingdom of Fourchon.”

“Why should it concern you?” Namor patiently humors the conversation further, but you can read that the patience is wearing thin.

“King to king, I find it concerning because it calls into question whether we are moving into a state of volatility for all who dwell in the oceans, and I have no wish to see my people drawn into hostilities or war of any kind.”

“And you are here to ensure continued peace between our nations?”

“I am.”

Your heart isn’t racing, but the beats thrum more swiftly against your chest as you will this to go well.

“And what do you propose, Hamal? What does the kingdom of Fourchon possibly have to offer Talokan?”

There’s a moment of silence that hangs between the two rulers, then your father answers, “Her.”

Every muscle in your body seizes with dread, your heart skipping a beat. Your eyes widen, but every bit of diplomatic rearing mercifully allows you to keep your mouth from dropping open in complete shock.

“My daughter.”

You cannot look at either king, looking straight ahead to keep your composure, but you register the sharp change in Namor’s voice. “Fourchon is neither enemy nor ally to Talokan, and yet you come to my court with the arrogance of demanding peace between our countries when for more than three hundred years there has been nary a quarrel. Indeed, your small kingdom has meant nothing to me, an inconsequential player amongst underwater realms. We have maintained social civility only because you were not worth any more or less to me.

He pauses, and you can feel the tension rolling in waves off your father.

“Your offer is horrible, but I will give you what you came here to bargain and secure today for the sake of your people, despite the prideful blunder of their king. Now leave.”

You are desperate to acquiesce to Namor’s command after the humiliation of being offered first as a trinket or some form of tribute and then receiving by association a political rebuke, and you turn immediately to depart with your father.

“Not you, Princess,” his voice halts you.

You watch your father leave; he doesn’t look back at you or Namor.

“Come here,” the king of Talokan says.

You turn back to face him, squaring your shoulders and looking straight at him as you approach. Your father had asked for a private audience, and you are grateful for that as no one else saw the disaster that just took place.

He regards you openly. You focus on breathing evenly when all you want to do is flee from this room and let your emotions rage. When his gaze meets yours again, he tilts his chin and narrows his eyes ever so slightly.

“Do you not kneel for your king?”

Heat rushes from your chest up to flood your cheeks, and your throat feels thick with anger, but you manage to speak. “You are not my king.”

“Did I not accept the terms offered?”

“An offer you called horrible,” you say as you sink to your knees and bow your head as is customary.

“The offer, not you.”

Your head snaps back up at these words.

“And the offer was horrible in relation to you, not me.”

Your brow furrows in question.

“When your father made the overtures for this meeting, I asked my ambassador to share with me his outlook on your kingdom and your court.”

“You said we were inconsequential.”

“But an element that still exists.”

He evaluated the full landscape. You were under no illusions that the kingdom of your birth was small in comparison to Talokan or Atlantis, but  he was a ruler who wasn’t fool enough discount the smaller players.

“My ambassador said,” he continues, “that your people love and respect you and that it is a loss to Fourchon that you were both second-born and a daughter of the throne instead of a son.”

Resentment spreads through your veins at these words. You’d fought the unrest of what you would not be able to do while also feeling confident in your brother’s ability to rule, that he’d proven himself worthy of his birthright.

“He said you were your father’s favorite.”

You had thought that, too. And yet… “How easily he would bargain me away would say otherwise.”

“It was clear you had no indication of his intent.”

A bitter laugh escapes your throat. “Truly. I thought he valued my presence, my counsel, even perhaps my help in diplomatic relations, but I was only a pawn.”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes and cock your head to the side.

“I think you are wrong. Stand, Princess.”

You rise slowly, with as much grace as you can.

He moves from the throne, stepping over the jaw that frames his seat of power, and moves down the steps toward you.

“In future you kneel for only me, no one else.”

You remain in your place as he slowly circles you.  

“I did lecture your father for his arrogance on an improper read on the state of affairs, assuming Talokan would turn on Fourchon. However, as a king, I do not fault him for caring for the welfare of his people, or for overestimating the value of his kingdom,” he states, his voice warming with this admission. He comes to a stop in front of you. “And to negotiate safety and peace for his people?” He raises his right hand and draws his fingers down reverently along your jaw. “He offers you, his greatest treasure. He insinuates you are worth more than an entire kingdom.”

You open then close your mouth, unsure how to respond to this interpretation. Your eyes search his, but all you can see there is a resoluteness that he truly means what he’s just said. It’s disarming, and with the way your world fell out from under you only minutes ago, you’re unsure of what to trust now.

Namor radiates confidence, it rolls easily off him in waves, but when he takes a step closer, you can feel the heat of him. His fingers move over your shoulder and down the length of your arm, and you shiver but keep holding his gaze. Your instincts tell you that every moment in this room has been significant, it’s determining your future, every movement, every word, every observation.

He takes half a step closer, only a whisper of space between you now, and you hold your ground. He almost smiles, then he turns away, seizing your hand and leading you up the stairs of the dais, and you quickly lift your skirts so you can ascend quickly behind him. Up close you can admire the artistry of the jaw that encases his throne. Like him, it’s charming, beautiful, and dangerous, each intricate designs carved into the bone, and the teeth replaced with jade stones.

“Your father was right to anticipate a shift in my rule.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been king of Talokan for centuries, but my dealings with Wakanda have me considering eventualities of the future.”

Namor takes steps over the jaw, then draws you carefully in with him, still holding your hand as you step over the mighty frame, before finally releasing it. He turns back to look out over the throne room and further the drop off to look out over the kingdom of Talokan, but angles himself slightly toward you as well, and you mirror him. It’s a breathtaking view, and you imagine it is an altogether different manner of beauty with the court or an audience of people called to convene. But like this, still and quiet, it’s ethereal.

“You will be my queen.”

“That’s a bold declaration.”

“You’ve been offered to me in exchange for a promise of peace for your people, would you renege?”

You close your eyes briefly but square your shoulders and shake your head.

“Now you can choose your course in this.”

“Enlighten me,” you can’t hold back, though you do manage to keep your voice even.

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, but he’s speaking again before you can decipher it. “If I’m to have an heir, to secure the future, ensure stability for my people, I need a queen; but whether you merely bear my child or become my consort is something I cannot determine for you. I would prefer the latter.”

In the next second, he’s pulled you to his side and captured your lips in a kiss that is altogether slow and searing. His arm winds around your waist, bringing you flush against him, and your hands move of their own volition to rest on either side of his neck. Heat runs through your veins, and you know without question he could consume you.

You break off the kiss, but he respectfully retreats. He takes a seat on the throne, and you see he’s as breathless as you are.

But you broke off the kiss to ask the question that will haunt you if you don’t ask it.

“You’re truly ready to bind me to your side, just like that? You don’t even know me.”

“This is not a marriage of convenience. This is a marriage of opportunity.”

“I’m not–“

He holds up a hand to silence you, but it’s not in impatience, you can see that in his face, and he immediately says, “I will grant you that we do not know each other yet, but I know enough to know who you are. I have the trusted insight of my ambassador, but I also have accounts from people who have served and interacted with you here in my own kingdom these past two days, and biologically prolonged life or not, a king also doesn’t keep his crown or the respect of his people for as long as I have without being able to judge those around him well. You were taken by surprise today, but you are not naïve. You came to my court to be of counsel, serve, influence. Why should that not still be your fate?”

“A foreign princess?”

He shakes his head and holds his hand out to you. “A queen consort.”

You search his face again. This was the moment. You could not read any falseness, arrogance, or cruelty. Indeed, though he was surprising you with this swift and forthright proposition, your intuition doesn’t question him or his intentions.

You take the hand he presented, and he pulls you forward, placing his hands on your hips once you are close enough and guiding you to sit astride one of his powerful thighs, the rich fabric of your dress sliding up your legs. You place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself.

“I want your mind, your body, and your soul,” he says, sealing it with your name, not your title.

“I want the same,” you say.

“You’re sure?”

“I need the same.” Being this close to him is both invigorating and steadying. The way he is looking at you, the way he is holding you, it’s also intimate and heated, and those feelings are amplified as he pulls you just a little closer.

“Then take what you need,” he commands in a tone that makes your heart soar and desire bloom in your stomach. He flexes his thigh against your core, and it spurs you to lean in and kiss him again, hungry for more.

He matches your eagerness. When his tongue seeks entrance, you open your lips, moaning. He begins rocking your hips back and forth over his thigh, and you know he can feel the heat and the wetness of the desire he’s stoked within you seeping through the silk of your underwear. As you take control of moving against him, his hands travel up your sides until he reaches your breasts, and his thumbs brush over the tender flesh. You both moan, him in approval, and you with pleasure. You’re swept away completely in all the sensations, in his passion, your body singing for him. He is a powerful force, one you will have to be sure to meet with your own spirit and fire so you aren’t lost. This union is for fulfilment for you both, not to be destroyed, diminished, or tossed away.

As you speed up, he drops one hand down to anchor on your hips, helping you grind down on his thigh. He keeps flexing it against you, and you whimper, head falling back.

“Keep going,” he growls against the column of your throat, kissing his way down to the sweet spot at the base of your neck. “I love the way your body is trembling; I can tell you’re so close.”

“Yes, Namor,” you keen.

“K’uk’ulkan,” he says, and your head snaps back up, eyes locking intensely with his.

“K’uk’ulkan,” you repeat – the invitation to use the more personal name drops the intimacy between you two to a deeper level.

You both move with a desperate frenzy now, you craving the release and him eager to give it to you, his lips searing every inch of the exposed skin available to him at your neck, collar bone, pulling at the neckline of your dress.

“So close,” you cry.

“Let go.”

And you do, tight coil of ecstasy peaking and releasing, you cling to him, and as your body begins to relax wish pleasure, you press your forehead to his, both of your eyes closed now, sealing the moment in your memory.

His hands are slowly running up and down your back. “Jach ma’alob,” he croons softly. “This is enough for now; there will be so much more, my queen.”

Jach ma’alob = very good

PART TWO: COMPANION

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

If you enjoyed, reblog to help others find this story AND to normalize the fic-reblog culture. There are so many talented writers, and a reblog really fuels the muses of the soul more than you know - we all appreciate it whether we're big or little fish in this pond.

My askbox is always open. See you on the flipside for day four of AHE...

[writernopal]

7 Snippets 7 People

Thanks for the tag @sam-glade! See their post here!

I'm going to try to do my best to match these with the people I'm tagging. Sam, you are a hard act to follow, but here I go! Fair warning, they're kind of long, but by now, it should be known that brevity is not my strong suit 😅

@captain-kraken (AASOAF 1, Axtapor's POV)

My racing thoughts came to a halt. I knew that voice. I looked to the source of it, and there she was, that woman, clear as day. But today, she was dressed as one might find a fine girl-child’s doll. Her frock was all ruffles, ribbons, and pale colors with motifs of soft pink roses upon it. Around her neck was a thin pink ribbon with a gold bow hanging from it. The tiny ornament sat perfectly in the hollow of her collarbones. Her hair was in an updo decorated with many ringlets that sat about her face and the top of her head, and her tiny hands were gloved in a pale green lace. Still, of all that I took in about her, I couldn’t help but cling to her waist. It was tiny, unimaginably so. Though that might be a product of her skirts. They were so poofy I wondered how she got around without collecting all sorts of refuse along the way like some strange net. She must have married again, being dressed as she was, and well at that. She must have some sort of hidden charm that made her so alluring to rich men. What might it be? “I’m sorry, but who are you?” Ophelia asked with some confusion. Her voice snapped me from my reverie, and I did my best to regain my composure. I shouldn’t be so taken by this woman, not in front of the one I was planning on marrying.

@lynnedwardswrites (AASOAF 2, Fay's POV)

“And what will you do after it’s done? He’s the last one.” I put the end of my pipe in his mouth. “We’ll lure Mar-Dur out for one, probably kill the rat bastard. I’m tired of him anyway. He’s turned out to be more trouble than I thought he would be when I first agreed to do business with him.” “A bad investment.” He agreed with a frown as he let out a steady stream of smoke. “After that, I’m not sure. I haven’t thought that far ahead, to be honest with you. It’s all been about this for as long as I can remember.” “I know, but there is much more we could do together...” His hand landed gently on my lower belly, and a somberness flashed in his eyes.  I put my own hand over his and sighed.  “Things will be so busy with two ships instead of one. You won’t be with me every waking moment of the day anymore, Wilkes. And besides, you know that what you want from me is impossible...” I squeezed his hand gently. “I know...I just—” He dropped his head into my lap and took a shuddering breath. “It’s alright. We have each other, hmm? You and me.” I leaned down to kiss the side of his neck gently. “You and me...” He repeated in a whisper before putting his arms around my waist and closing his eyes.

@elshells (AASOAF 2, Mariel's POV)

“Aye…” He tossed a quick glance around, “Come this way. Stand there.” “Here?” “Aye, just so. Hold fast.” “What are you—?” I looked down, and my eyes widened, watching as he looped his tail into the handle of a basket sitting on the ground near the stall we were standing next to, “Y-You can’t!” “Hush!” He hissed quietly, “Walk right this way as so. Aye, right natural. Nary wrong happenin’ here.” “B-But—!” “Shh!” He hissed as we successfully escaped the scene of the crime without drawing attention.  “We should give it back. It isn’t ours.” I insisted as he quickly stuffed everything he’d purchased into it and took my hand to lead us further away. He laughed. “What be yer meanin’? I ‘call ye havin’ this wee basket when I collected ye. It be yers.” “N-No, it isn’t!” I complained. “A thin’ as so be worth nary more than two coppers. Will no be missed.” He replied more dismissively but still maintained his air of playfulness. “But it’s theirs…” “Aye, fine. Will ‘turn it on the morrow.” He finally relented with one of his beautiful laughs.

@dragonedged-if (AASOAF 1, Axtapor's POV)

“Should we play with stakes this time?” She asked quietly as she shuffled the cards.  My brow raised. She never wanted to play with stakes; she just liked having some way to entertain herself. But now I was interested; if she was making the suggestion, what was she planning on wagering? “Aye, what’ll it be?” I asked with a chuckle as I packed my pipe. “How about…” She mused, bunching up her lips into a thoughtful frown, “A sweet.” “A sweet?” I frowned as I bit down on the end of my pipe and searched for my matches. “Yes. The loser buys a sweet for the winner from the confectionery stall at the trading post.” She said with a determined sparkle in her eye. I laughed; of course, it would be something simple. “Aye, then a sweet it be.”

@kittensartswriting (AASOAF 1, Mariel's POV)

I walked at a slow, numb pace down the dark and empty corridor toward his chambers. And my steps made not a sound as moved through that quiet and eerie space. I was not a large person and wore no shoes nor a great and fancy nightdress that might flutter behind me to create some sound as I went. Was this what a ghost might feel like? It must be. The thought should strike me as sad, but instead, I felt happy. How peaceful it must be to wander the world untouched and unchanged by its horrors. Simply to exist as an onlooker with the freedom to say, ‘Better you than me.’  I looked to my right and out the windows that faced the gardens where I captured my weapon of choice. It was dark save for the small fires of faraway lamps, dotting the landscape here and there. They brought me no solace. Instead, they seemed like the winking eyes of beasts, beckoning me to do something wicked to earn the right to join their ranks. And there, in the endless darkness that stretched further than my eyes could see, I would tempt our next comrade alongside them.

@kanobarlowe (AASOAF 1, Mariel's POV)

But it was too pleasant a day to be thinking about such things. The afternoon sun scattered its many beamed children across the ground and the foliage around us, making the forest appear like a coffer replete with gold. A gentle breeze stroked the branches of many trees and fallen leaves, making it sound like we were someplace that overlooked the sea where the waves could be heard pulling in and out. And the creatures that called this place home sang in pleasant harmony as if making certain that we felt welcome in their peaceful abode. It was tranquility at its finest. I wished then that we could stay in this forest forever. It would be so lovely to live surrounded by nothing but songbirds and other gentle creatures, unbothered by the world’s chaos just beyond this bastion of serenity. But I supposed that was not to be... I wiped my cheek, but it seemed with that single tear, the rest that had been threatening to fall fell. I sniffled quietly, and the same breeze that once sounded so pleasant now made the trees whisper in a lonely and ominous way. Suddenly it felt too crowded here, as if everything had become dark and narrow. The shadows between the sunlight voraciously attempted to reclaim what had been invaded, growing and swallowing everything into their bottomless bellies. And the voices of the forest sounded more like distant screams or the jingling of a jailer’s keys. What was the point of escaping? Was this freedom even worth buying? I wasn’t so sure anymore.

@moonluringfrost (AASOAF 2, Fay's POV)

I let out a grunt of annoyance and was going to push him away when the air shivered around my ears, and all I could do was stand there. Those negative feelings began to wane despite my best intentions to be angry at him. Just behind me, the sun had started to set, and he became resplendent as he always did when the light of day was this low. Everywhere we went, they called him the Son of the Moon, and in moments like these, it was easy to understand why. He was positively radiant, and that wasn’t just a figure of speech; he was glowing like the moon itself.  His scales had become almost translucent but still managed to capture the light like some finely cut gem, and just underneath, I could see millions of tiny red veins chasing after one another. Even his eyes seemed to be alight with more fire than usual, smoldering like his own pair of setting suns. The opalescent sheen of his scales, the sealike swell of his sloped horns, and the feathery mane upon his head, all of him was beautiful as if he had been born for the sole purpose of being admired. And what wasn’t his by nature felt alive with his spirit all the same, for that ruby upon his forehead even thrummed with the frantic life of a third eye... We locked eyes, and all remaining earthly feelings faded away. It was as if I was standing on the bow of this ship or any other, watching the waves of a churning night sea as they towered overhead like the arm of some great beast. There was a unique fear in witnessing something like that. The scene being framed only by the sounds of the ceaseless beating of her majesty’s fury against the struggling vessel at her mercy. At that moment, much like now, it was simpler, and perhaps wiser, to brace and wait. Eventually, the moon’s reign would end, and he would release that poor creature below so that just before dawn, one’s eyes would turn heavenward and be fooled into uttering words of thanks.

[worldsfromhoney]

Jewels of Mine

Masterlist

tw: period-typical homophobia

Prompt 7 - Self-Adornment @thepromptfoundry

It’s after his morning prayers that Tobia finally shakes himself out of his reverie and deems himself ready for the day. He is not ready for almost falling flat on his face on the merciless stone floor, making him foolishly flail around to get a hold on something. Tobia’s fingers brush against something cold and he reaches for it, the metal brazier digging into his palm as he hangs onto it.

The culprit of all this?

“What in the blazes were you thinking?” Tobia hissed. “Oh, my mistake. I gather you weren’t thinking at all!”

Wide, innocent-looking eyes return his glare but Tobia isn’t fooled. Even Giobbe, with all his masks, cannot stop the smile dipped in mischief as pure as the evil of Hell. It’s at moments like this—when it’s just them and no one else to see, think, or persecute—that Tobia wonders how God hadn’t struck this man down yet.

Then again, the same could be said of him.

“Father Tobia,” Giobbe says in an almost purr. He takes a step closer. “That’s not a nice thing to say to a fellow member of the Grand Church of God.”

Tobia snorts and crosses his arms, leaning away from the man. His back hits the shelves and a few pots shake from the slight impact. Daylight barely passed through into this storage room that only had a small hole for a window near the ceiling. Shadows and chatter passed right outside the closed door. Once or twice, he even heard his and Giobbe’s names.

Never in tandem. Of course, never together. And if ever, then not in the way they’d ever imagine if imagination was limited to what God permits.

“What’s not nice—” Tobia says, still glaring at those innocent-seeming eyes. “—is leaving things for a good member of the Church of God to almost trip over, Father Giobbe.”

Instead of being chastised, the other man brightened up at this. Giobbe stepped closer till there was nary an inch between them, their breaths mingling and those cursed eyes sucking him in. Tobia’s breath hitched at the first touch, the first brush of fingers against his cheek. He can smell holy incense and the musk of perfume so subtle no one would’ve noticed if they weren’t this close.

Giobbe tucked away a strand of Tobia’s hair, his smile still steeped in mischief. “So?”

“So what?”

Giobbe licked his lips and he couldn’t help it really, having his eyes drawn down to it. He was no longer flush against the cabinets but was drawing closer to the other man—his fellow priest, gaze fixed on where that slip of tongue had disappeared back behind those lips.

Tobia’s mouth was dry. He needs to drink something.

Giobbe chuckled, his fingers now playing with the curl of hair at Tobia’s ear, each brush against skin making it flush and burn.

“So,” Giobbe said. “Did you get it? My gift?”

Tobia must’ve answered somehow and it must’ve been satisfactory because Giobbe had closed the distance, hands roughly taking hold of his face, and those eyes and lips swallowing him whole. Giobbe was always rough but today he was rougher. He moved insistently against Tobia, lips pressing hard and teeth nipping and pulling with ferocity. He sucked at Tobia’s lips, murmuring cuore mio, cuore mio amidst Tobia’s moans and whimpers and gasps.

“I…I—” Tobia gasped out in between kisses. “I… I can’t believe you—ah!—G-Giobbe. G-Gifting me—mhm—that. Of all—ngh!—things. What were…. What were you thinking?”

That question had been rocketing round his mind since he took the box in his room. It was flat, unmarked, and eerily similar to a clothes box. Wrapped in a single black ribbon, he hadn’t thought much of what was inside till he…opened it.

Giobbe laughed into the kiss and drew away slightly, their noses brushing and breaths mixing into a heady heat of air that was obviously getting into their heads. Enough that Tobia did nothing to stop Giobbe from reaching for his buttons and undoing them at an achingly slow pace.

As the button by his chest popped off, Tobia bit his lip and turned away.

Silence. Glorious, embarrassing silence that didn’t help with how regret was now washing over Tobia because what was he thinking—

“Dio mio,” Giobbe said, his voice breathless. “Dio mio, Tobia. You actually… You’re wearing it. Really. Truly. In front of me and under your cassock.”

There were no mirrors here but Tobia didn’t need them to know he was blushing. He half-heartedly slapped Giobbe’s chest, not to push away but just to… well, do something. The man grabbed at his hand and began delving kisses upon it, nipping at skin and lathering his tongue around his fingers like a beast.

“Ah, cuore mio,” Giobbe said and the tone of his voice finally got Tobia to turn and look. He looked drunk, eyes half-lid and blown black. “You’re really something else, aren’t you, my dear priest?”

Tobia rolled his eyes. “If I’m something else, then what are you, amore mio? A heathen? A spawn?”

And like always when Tobia is making attempts to shed this relationship—this thing that they are and they have as something unholy and wrong, Giobbe smiles at him. It’s different from earlier. Everything about him goes soft and pliant as if Tobia is God and here is a man willing to be putty in his divine grasp.

“I am whatever you want me to be, cuore mio, and that’s a promise I’ll never break.”

The gifts keep coming and Tobia is running out of ways to wear them covertly. The first one had been easy. A woman’s bralette and underwear so perfectly fitted to him that he wonders if Giobbe had measured him during their nights together. Knowing the man, he most likely did and went off to his unruly ‘connections’ to get the commission done.

It wasn’t an ordinary bralette and underwear. It was… well, it was simply all string but not the kind that dug painfully into skin. No, this was a fabric close to the smoothness of silk and the artistry of lace. In all honesty, Tobia thought it more comfortable than any proper undergarment he’d had. So he had no problem with that.

The following gifts were becoming a challenge, though.

Priests belonging to the Grand and Holy Church of God aren’t to be seen wearing any sort of jewellery or accessory that would be taken to flaunt wealth. Jewellery are for the upper class; for the damned people who went to mass only to flaunt their status and barely give donations to the House of God. It is an unspoken rule that every priest follows.

Tobia stares at the pair of earrings in the box and runs a hand down his face, exasperated. What was next, a tiara? Or, even worse and a possibility he doesn’t want to entertain, rouge and powder. And yet the thought of the gifts that’d piled up in his closet, hidden beneath his cassocks, makes something twist in his chest. It makes his breath hitch, his face warm and burn with this feeling of sin.

Tobia looks up at the cross by the small altar every priest’s room had and finds himself caught by that wooden gaze. Christ the Son and Saviour is looking straight into his soul and sees it twisted, tainted, and tied up by temptation he’d been too weak to refuse, time and time again. It makes Tobia’s legs tremble under him and a different kind of twist in his chest comes from an invisible, nay, divine grasp round his heart, squeezing in attempt to purify and save—

In the corner of his eye, the earrings twinkle. They’re in the form of a cross, jewels of the colour of Giobbe’s eyes exuding a glow of its own. It is a mockery to the divine and yet Tobia finds himself taking them.

He sheds blood for a different kind of cross and knows, in this moment, where his faith truly lies.

“Do you think we’ll go to Hell, amore mio?”

This is not the first time Tobia asks this and they both know it won’t be the last. Not when almost every moment of the rest of their days have been sworn to God the Almighty and Omniscient. Not when Tobia doesn’t draw away from Giobbe’s soothing touch right now, their bare skin and sin brought to the light by the moon.

Giobbe, as always, laughs. Tobia knows the man well enough to hear the hollowness and the utter grief of a faith lost to sin continuously committed.

“I think at this point, cuore mio, il Satana himself knows our names, no?”

The thought of the fallen angel committing their names to heart makes Tobia laugh and turn to the side—to Giobbe. He shakes his head as he cups this face sculpted by God Himself, watching as Giobbe leans into the touch.

It’s another moment, not the last not the final, where Tobia knows his faith lies not in God but in His creation who’s chosen to stay by his side. Through love and sin and hellfire, Giobbe promises and Tobia prays.

[makilovescofi]

Admire♡

Tighnari x reader

⚠️ NOT EDITED ⚠️ imsorry

Hey hi, this is my first fanfic on Tumblr, I just wanted to write some tighnari fluff.

Background: Y/n is an academia student and hangs around the forest watchers to collect data and write conclusive essays about withering zones and general danger they encounter. Talking to tighnari is y/n's course of action as he is the lead forest watcher.

Summary: Collei helps Y/n notice her crush on a certain mushroom drug addict. Y/n starts acting a little weird around Tighanri, do you think he'll notice???

•♡~♡•

Having the biggest and most obvious crush on the lead forest ranger distracted you from your duties as an illustrator and researcher. It's not your fault he's perfectly your type.

You've been hanging around Tighnari for sometime now, he was able to provide you with quick information and constructive criticism on your papers. Sometimes he went on and on about the plants that were included in your illustrations or how his day went while you drew. He talked, you listened.

It goes over your brain when he doesn't act like this to most people. Collei was the first one who mentioned it to you.

You cheerfully ran up to Collei to show the gorgeous padisarahs you just received, a demanding flower that makes valuable spices.

"Collei! Help me out here, I need a suitable vase for these. Nari gave me a padisarahs. Isn't that amazing!? These don't grow around here."

Collei beamed at the sight of you, "Those are beautiful, Y/n! Master Tighnari doesn't really do this for others. You must be very special to him."

It took you a second to think about it. You look dumbfounded, dumbass, ha.

"He's wonderful. I'm glad he feels the same? He's also dear to me." You sheepishly commented. Your brain started to wander, 'I'm special, could there be more to this-?' You couldn't help but blush.

"Oooooh? Are you interested in Master Tighnari??? if so, I CAN HELP!!!" Your eyes widened.

"SHHHH SHHH No no!!! It's not like that, we're good friends, thank you Collei." Your ears burned bright red, "What if he hears?!" You scooted her to a quieter and more private space. You were really embarrassed. You took note of Tighnari's good hearing.

"Yyy/n!!!" You hushed her once again, she quieted down for you. "You make lovey eyes to Master Tighnari everytime you're around him, it's almost obvious you're into him." What is she, your kid? Ya probably.

"I'm into him?" This is flying over your head. Collei groaned in frustration.

-♡~♡-

Now you're here scribbling in your sketch book thinking about today's conversation. 'He's done so much for me, we've spent a lot of time together... fought withering zones, explored some secret caves, did experiments, and read with eachother. Would he be into me after all this time?' You pondered Tighnari's relationship with you. Reminiscing small bits of his face from the times you two hung out. Before you knew it, you had multiple sketches of him. A sketch of his face, clothes, his smile.

You didn't realize how much time has passed, looking back at your drawings, you had to admit it to yourself. "Ya, I've got a crush on him." You said bluntly.

"A crush on who?"

You slammed your sketchbook shut. "AH! No one!" You whipped your head toward the voice behind you.

Tighnari.

"Doesn't sound like no one, come on, I'm your best friend Y/n!"

"You..." You had to pause, you're getting ahead of yourself aren't you? You big lummox, don't tell him now, "startled me! Yes, it's no one."

His ear twitched, that didn't go unnoticed by you, "you just said- nevermind, I could use your help this afternoon, are you still available this afternoon?"

"Oh jeez, yes of course I'll help, sorry, I got carried away with my sketches." You started packing your supplies and slung your bag around your shoulder.

"I was getting worried that you weren't around, so I went to look for you. That must be a big crush you must have in order to loose track of time." He says tauntingly. What a tease.

You quickly stood up, "It's not a crush!!!"

He shrugs his shoulders, "Sure, whatever you say to help you sleep at night." Tighnari waves his hand around.

You sighed and left with your now-discovered crush.

"Sooo, what do you like about this guy?"

What a curious fox, you have to say something, he'll think it's him.

"He's uh"

"He'ss?" Nari pushed you to continue.

"He's cute."

"Oh come on, for a publisher and an artist, you're not very good at describing."

-♡~♡-

You two made it back to his private abode back in Gandharva Ville. The conversation you both first discussed was long deserted once you two started talking about plants, especially Tighnari's research on various fungi.

You didn't notice when you entered his place, the test tubes and mushrooms inside were more interesting to look at.

He explained his experiment and you have him some questions and input. You took the opportunity to tinker around with hie experiment, of course you explain what you're doing, just to see if it has any reactions. This went on for sometime before you accidentally discovered something.

One of the fungi exploded some kind of powder in your hands, from the scare, you knocked your bag over and several other things that were on the table.

"Y/n!" Tighnari gets up from his seat, his attention was torn away from his paperwork onto you. "Are you alright?"

"Yes I am..." your voice squeaked, barely above a whisper.

He checks your hands looking for any cuts or reactions on your skin. He sees you're alright and gives you a hand cleaning up.

You felt really guilty, he clearly spent time on this and you just knocked over almost half of the project.

You both were crouched down on the floor too pick up some vials and papers.

"Nari..." Your voice whispered, "I'm sorry. I can recreate the experiment."

"Mhm? There's no broken glass or missed data. It's alright y/n." He doesn't look at you, is he mad? Lying? Is it really ok?

"But,"

"No buts, it'd be a different story if you got hurt. Here, you can take the vials to the cabinet while I organize these papers." You fail to notice your notebook flipped open to the perfect sketches of him. Since your attention is elsewhere, Tighnari notices the pretty drawing of himself.

He quickly looks over it, taking great interest in the sketchpad, "Is that me?" He's amused, curious, deep in thought.

You look back at him and panick, 'does he hate it??? Does he feel weirded out?'

You quietly sqeaked a "yes" to respond.

"Awe, you like me this much? Who knew," it's so obvious he knew all this time, even before you found out you like him.

Your ears burned bright red out of embarrassment and being flustered. "Shut up! You already knew?!," you rushed over to him to grab your sketchbook back.

He raised the book out of your reach, there wasn't a big hight difference, you just had to jump to get it. He laughed in your face, literally.

That was only when u realize how close you two were, your gaze glanced at his lips. He noticed and quickly kissed your cheek. 'Alofocenrkgowo'

"I like you back lummox."

"I- you rude bit-"

"Now, now, is that how you talk to your crush?" He's really trying to start something. This dumb-

"Asshat, you have a crush on me too." You were kinda embarrassed so you whispered. Your mind raced, going at 3000mph. You couldn't look away from his lips.

"You're still staring, was that not enough for you?" Tighnari was endearing and playful at the same time. You didn't notice his arm around your waist until now, it was impossible to not lean on him.

"Maybe, one more. On the lips."

[scribbles-dream]

Eldar fic for @nictanova’s Lhamean OC is finished! Enjoy!

Chalice of Transfiguration

I

Kellis watched from the window as the ship docked. The other Consorts were pressed to the stained glass, trying to make out glimpses of the new arrivals. The air hummed with unnatural energies as the Warp-sensitive among the group grew excited. Mistress Yvara had sealed the Webway Gate leading to their small slice of paradise for today, stating something about important cargo. Their tiny scrap of paradise in the pocket dimension was suspended on an artificial isle in between dimensions, covered with verdant land and Yvara’s brothel, set firmly away from the prying eyes of Commagorah, the Dark City.

Turning away, Kellis nimbly made their way across the large loft, taking a painted lift through the main hall, past the library, and to Yvara’s lavish quarters. There was a strange sensation in the air today, and Kellis wanted to be somewhere warmer than their translucent silks allowed. Yvara, wearing a tight dress and silvery corset, warmly welcomed Kellis inside, shooing away the other boys, all dressed the same as Kellis. Her gentle voice was the same as always, but she seemed.. unfocused. “Oh, my darling. I was waiting for you. Did you see the visitors?”

Yvara, despite her Drukhari upbringing, had attempted to be just a slight bit better than the sadistic raiders of her family. To that end, she took Kellis from a household slave to her darling. In a curious bout of contradiction for a Lhamaean brothel-keeper, she refused to let nearly anyone else be with Kellis, except herself and Irina. They didn’t mind. As long as the other consorts were treated well. Yvara swiftly lifted Kellis, wrapping them in a tight embrace. She slowly began to fix their messy, tangled hair.

“Yes, Mistress. I did,” A tinge of hopefulness filled Kellis as they remembered the last time visitors had arrived. “Will we be working today?” Yvara laughed, a hearty, sensual sound with smooth undertones. She gave Kellis a slight nibble on their round ears, and turned back to their long hair.

“Oh, my sweet. We are not getting new customers today. An old friend of mine is stopping by. Do you remember Queen Nymea? She took Aelin as a favor from me. She’s procured more of the Soul-Weaver, and I am going to have it.” These words were spoken forcibly, but not unkindly. Yvara leaned away, pulling out a bottle of product that gave off a wonderful smell Kellis had no Human name for. It created a feeling of great sleepiness and warmth in their body, causing a heaviness behind the eyes.

Yvara leaned closer, drawing her hands along their slender body. Her voice dropped to nary a whisper, emantating and vanishing just as fast in the curtain-clothed, carpeted room. Kellis could almost see the colors such words could make, all deep, passionate reds and purples. “You are finally going to be free of your Humanity.”

The words resonated in their mind, lingering further than they should have. Kellis jolted awake, a sensation in their mind which could be only described as hope. Oh, what joy! What a concept as laden with beautiful metaphors as change! They could not count the years they had been waiting, so long, to finally be perfect. To be Aeldari was the highest pinnacle of existence, to be free of want and worry of mortality and doubt. And now—It was happening! They would finally be in their proper body.

Kellis twisted rapidly, catching Yvara in a deep kiss, lingering there for a long while. The vapors and mists in the room hung for a moment, then dissipated, clouds being broken by light in a sunless realm. No words were exchanged. None needed to be.

II

The guests were welcomed in the usual way, through silent ritualism and subtle pomp. Incense was sprinkled to Ynnead and Isha, and the guests were made to line up in the foyer, clad with Eldar, Human, and Xenos furniture of all sorts. Beyond the ornate windows of the foyer, marked with a marble line, were tables, chairs, casual furniture, and the omnipotent bar, aloft on anti-grav units. Yvara put her arm around Kellis, as did Irina, Yvara’ other favorite (They both claimed ownership of Kellis.)

Each Corsair was unique, and Kellis counted twenty in total. Eldar, Human, T’au, Kroot, Votann, and some Tech-Priests of the Mechanicus. Yvara and Nymea greeted each other as old friends do, ceremonial facades vanishing like the sun during a storm, Nymea crossing the literal and metaphorical line to enter Yvara’s home and confide in. A simple hug broke any form of budding unease, and the guests made themselves at home. Yvara and Irina sent Kellis away with a gentle kiss each, indicating this was the business of queens and mistresses. Kellis didn’t mind. Besides, it had been a long while since they hadn’t been absorbed in paperwork and boredom.

There was one Human that caught Kellis’ eye, and they recalled Yvara asking them to keep a close watch. A tall, grizzled man, with none of the features of a Half-Eldar.. or half-anything, for that matter. A scratched sigil marking the man as one of the Imperium’s Holy Inquisitors was visible on his breastplate, and he was talking amicably to a muscular Votann woman holding Ash and Milia in each arm, the two looking with bashful gazes to her taut muscles and long red hair.

The Inquisitor had a stiff white beard and a cybernetic hand made of floating chunks of metal. Swiftly, Kellis fetched a few drinks from Otto, their jovial barkeeper of two-hundred Kroot years, pointing out the Inquisitor silently. Otto nodded, his expression becoming unreadable, and silently sent Kellis on their way with a tap of his claw.

Turning to greet Kellis with a simple wave, the Inquisitor smiled wanly at their approach. The Votann woman shooed away the needy consorts with a grin, and the two graciously accepted the pre-offered T’au h’uila, a mild sweet juice with layered flavors. “So, an Inquisitor. What brings you out here?” Kellis had the most unusual feeling that their flirty seduction wouldn’t work on this man—although they didn’t know why.

His smile broadened, and the grizzled man took off his rosette with a click, revealing the sigil of Craftworld Illian. His voice was gravely, with a deep bass that rumbled in his throat. “I’ve found that Humans make for more pleasant company when they’re not spurred by zealotry or bigotry.” He took a sip of the juice, nodding at the taste. “What about you? Yvara’s pet must have eyes and ears everywhere.”

I will not let my mistrust of them change my words. Kellis had guessed that the man already knew everything about why they had sauntered to the table in that instant. “Only fair, I suppose. I have eyes only for two, sadly.” At this, all chuckled.

The Inquisitor held out a hand to address the Votann. “This is my friend Jalia Obrung. She hails from the Myr Consortium. I’m Janis My’rhea.” The Votann quickly interjected with a bright and joyful smile. Her accent bled in more and more as she switched from High and Low Gothic. “What’s your name, lovely?” Kellis involuntarily laughed at the quick and easy attempt at flirting.

This is.. easy. “Kellis Windwalker.” They spoke clearly, without a hint of hesitation. The Votann and Inquisitor’s eyes narrowed in that sort of friendly fascination one only gets when conspiring with the closest of friends. Jalia drew in closer, and Kellis noted that the woman’s hand could easily envelop their wrist.

“You haven’t taken Lady Yvara or Lady Irina’s family names?” The Inquisitor was not making any attempt at mockery, Kellis noted. He was truly genuine—although that made perfect sense, given his family name was Illiani, and only gained through hard work and accomplishment.

“Not yet. They argue about it often.” Kellis felt themselves sinking into a sense of ease. This man was a friend. Not every Human is bad. I need to remember that. Jalia left the table, ostensibly to hunt for Ash (Who was making attempts to signal Kellis for some form of assistance in her flirtatious efforts, but to no avail), and Janis struck up a conversation on how different Yvara’s brothel was from all the other Aeldari establishments he had frequented, and that the energy was.. calmer. You can read my mind, can’t you?

Janis’ voice came through, hard-edged and eager. This was a puzzle, discerning thoughts and emotions through telepathy. He loved it. For an accomplished Wayseeker as yourself, you’re not the best at thought-crime.

Humans always think in punishment and the skills to dole it out or escape it. What happened to you? Kellis decided to not beat around the bush, cutting to a quick and sharp query that would lay bare this Human’s intentions. Inquisitors brought to mind fire and torture. This was an easy question, which could be backed up if the Human thought worse of them.

I saw through the lies of the Imperium. They abandoned me at Damocles. After working with the T’au, I saved a Farseer on my travels. Janis’ hard edge shifted, creating a gentle wave that suggested an easy, amicable nature. He was good at this, Kellis admitted. His reasoning was sound.

Kellis had a sharp edge of their own. So, a traitor to the Imperium. Is that it? You joined to help our cause?

Yes. There. Kellis knew Janis was genuine. Their imprint in the Warp was calm. No treachery here.

They smiled broadly, and motioned for Otto to send the fine fellow more drinks on the grav-waiter. The two talked more and more, sometimes about larger topics, sometimes smaller. Janis was intruiged at how this brothel operated without torture, and he was unsure how their drug assisted in that. He hadn’t taken well to the drug used to make Half-Eldar.. It suppressed the hunger, and, as Yvara had discovered, happy emotions were much stronger-tasting than agony.

They learned much from each other. Janis’ Eldar wife was living on Craftworld Illian as a diplomat, and he was well within his three hundredth year of age, being kept alive through rejuvenates and Eldar science. He was pleasantly surprised to learn that the majority of the consorts here were rescued slaves, and even more so to learn of their skills in subterfuge and espionage that Yvara had given them. It was what broken souls needed most. Hope, and a reason to live.

Yvara called Kellis over. Her voice was stiff. As the consorts and waiters continued to talk and flirt, their eyes were all focused on Kellis. The right hand of Yvara going anywhere spelled great importance for their tiny home. Otto simply gave a T’au salute before sending the lift upwards to Yvara’s quarters, shutting the ornate door behind them.

III

Yvara and Nymea were lounging on the silken sofas and cushions around the small room, with Nymea’s servant Aerin giving Kellis a slight nod. On the small wooden table between the furnishings was a metal box filled with glowing green vials. Although both parties were smiling cordially, Kellis could sense the tension in the room. It hovered in the vapor-filled air, twisting in the colored fog like a great dragon, hungering for the next word spoken.

Nymea spoke first, putting a long arm around Aerin. Her voice was smoky, with a smooth layer that came from her throat. “We were just speaking about you, little darling.” Yvara nodded, and took a stiff sip from her glass of wine.

“Have you reconsidered?” Nymea spoke casually, but there was an air of nervousness behind it, some tremulous quality that shuddered from her scarlet lips like a dying snake. “The raw form of this substance is painful to the extreme.”

Kellis knew. There were many with scars, and many more who hid them under silk and veil. They nodded, anticipation building in their throat—but it was lesser now than before, and they felt a sudden coldness in their body. “I understand.”

Their flesh was, in that moment, revolting. It screamed to be shed, to be transformed and changed. Their ears were pounding violently, heart pumping blood at a maddening rate. Somewhere below, an ancient Human viola had been taken up. Yvara put a hand on Kellis’ cheek, the warmth snapping them out of their anxious reverie.

Her eyes lacerated their soul, and Kellis remembered the first time they had stared into those vivid scarlet forms. A long chain had been handed to her, and she had immediately removed it. Blood had continually gushed from dripping cuts, with bruises all over their body—but she hadn’t been disgusted in the slightest. Yvara lowered her tone to a whisper. “You don’t have to do this. I will love you all the same.”

A voice spoke to them. They could see that perfect form in their mind, ageless, androgynous, beautiful—a shining exemplar to what they should strive for—and Kellis nodded. Yvara opened the door leading to the lift, and motioned for all to stop and listen.

Dozens of voices were singing. It was not anything with true “words,” but intones and gentle humming, accented by the various ramshackle instruments brought by the pirates. Yvara looked to Kellis again. “You know this, don’t you?”

“The Rest of Eldanesh.” Kellis noted softly. It could be interpreted as a mourning song, a song of regret, or hope. But hope for who? It was never specified. Perhaps, at that moment, it didn’t need interpretation.

Yvara motioned in their peripheral vision for Aerin to lift the box, and travel downwards. Kellis and Nymea followed close behind. The gentle humming, accented with sharp violins and a plucky harpsichord, grew to a crescendo. A line parted as people gave blessings, praise, and shouts of joy to the tiny procession. At the back of the brothel, a large rounded door opened with a pressurized hiss, steam filling the air.

Stairs led downwards, into the dark. Into that crucible of new life called Transfiguration. Kellis’ heart pulled them onwards, and their body walked its final steps into oblivion, soon to be cut free of all inadequacies through that knife called science.

No words were exchanged. None needed to be.

IV

Kellis stepped into the smooth glass pod, laying at an angle on the padded chair within. Their clothes were removed, and they felt another wave of nausea looking at their Human features. The couldn’t stop now, so Kellis chose instead to look upwards at the ring of eyes looking at them. Aerin placed vials of the green liquid into sockets on the outside of the pod, and Nymea extracted a spiritstone, crowning the port at the top of the pod’s lid.

Yvara leaned down, whispering a prayer that Kellis could not fully hear. She gave them one last kiss, holding their face in her hands for a simple moment. She retracted, and nodded to Nymea, who put commands into a console. Aerin walked away, averting their eyes in respect. Nymea stiffly walked out. Yvara stayed, sitting on a small chair and looking at a hanging light.

Whispering filled the pod, a cacophony of voices from the Soul-Mutator. This was the first step. Arms with syringes on each end pricked Kellis in the neck, arms, and hips. A needle plunged into the back of their spine to measure and disperse errant Warp energies. A sort of numb stillness came over Kellis, their breathing slowed and shaky.

There was silence for a moment. Then, pain. A fire wracked their body, and as they strained to look down, Kellis saw their flesh bubble and twist, bones snapping limply. There was a terrible pain inside their chest, a growing heat that felt like it would explode violently.

The whispering inside the pod grew to a terrible cacophony. Spectral figures grew around them, staring with baleful white eyes. Drink deep. Give your soul to us! Give it! Kellis screamed, and a slurry of black blood and viscera came out of their mouth. A rib snapped, the sound feeling like a gunshot to their popped and warped ears. Then, another. And another.

Finally, their ears felt warm, as if mush. Dark spots grew at the corners of their eyes, and Kellis felt a strange surge, their emotions running amok at speeds they could not control. They took a breath—a mistake—and sobbed at the insane amount of sensations, tempered down by the sterile environs but still present. Their eyes burned and wept blood, and when Kellis re-opened them for a split second, they could make out the individual fingerprints on the glass, down to the tiniest scratch—Aromas from cleaning fluid to hydraulics invaded their nostrils, and their head pounded and slammed against the glass in an insane attempt to stop the pulsating, scratching feeling inside them.

Purple lights surged around their field of vision, a blue haze filling the pod. The Warp was all around them, and the currents swirled and twisted violently. That terrible veil! How it had become so thin in just a moment! They could, for just a moment, see to the other side, shining cities of bone and light, utopia made manifest—then it fell away, a green tide of fluid rising to encapsulate the pod in its transformative waves.

Kellis tried to scream. Instead, they drank deeply, and descended into a lightless place.

V

A strangling presence was on their lower body, covering it with a soft feeling that caused them to spasm and twist. Eyes muddied with sleep opened to a small room, light filtering in from a large window. The figure lifted up the clammy bedsheet, noticing how slender their hands had become.

A woman was sitting on a rocking-chair next to the bed. She put a gentle hand on their shoulder. They looked at her deep red eyes, speaking from narrow lips and a perfectly smooth voice. “I know you.”

The woman smiled brightly, her warmth filling the room. “You do know me. What is your name?”

The figure looked down at their new body, free of scars and androgynous. It filled them with joy, although why, they could not tell. “I do not recall it. I shed it when I drank.” They looked back up at the woman. “You are Yvara. My Mistress.”

Yvara nodded. “Your name is gone, my love. You must pick a new one. What shall I call you?”

The figure thought about this for a few scant minutes, which felt like an eternity in that still room. Grasses swayed under an artificial sun, and the blue walls of the Webway lay beyond.

They took a breath. Then, another. The air felt clean and pure, unsullied by lesser lungs. Lips formed together—then stopped. No words needed to be said. Their mind opened fully to hers, basking in that protective warmth, the concept of affection laid bare at a sparkling light in the void.

Celen.

“Pure flesh.” Perfect, my darling. Shall we go?

Yes.

End.

[psychelis-new]

https://www.tumblr.com/psychelis-new/712302795823398912/disclaimer-readings-works-for-present-energies

This reminds me of something and thought I share my experience. If you remember, I chose my pile using a dice almost all the time. I first know about pick-a-card from Youtube in early 2019. Every time I pick a pile, it doesn't resonate with me and feel forced. This made me not trusting my intuition. Around early 2020, I made a "PAC draw box." It consists of numbers folded in papers. How it works is pretty much like a lucky draw box. There was this one pac about who is my fs. When I drew, I got pile 2. Fast forward, September 2021, I finally got my first paycheck and went to buy dice (it comes in a package of 7 types of dice: 4 sides, 6 sides, etc). So, I tried the 6-side-dice on the same video.

I got pile 2. I was stunned.

I threw the dice again after the first throw and got pile 2 again.

That means no matter what method I use, the past and the present still align (energy wise). Which also means I'm still walking the same path. That explains why I got the same result.

But let say I finally changed something in my present, and that change isn't aligned with my past anymore. My dice will roll & stop at a different number.

Can this be used as an example of "reading based on present energy" and "reading is timeless"?

-Nari 🌻

I have a bad case of not trusting my intuition 🙃

Please don't make me as I am very stubborn 😝

Okay, let's start from the first steps (IDC I'm more stubborn than you LOL):

1-the piles you took out of your intuition, didn't resonate cause they really didn't resonate (told you about stuff that isn't part of your life and you were like "uh nope, that's not me" all the time) or because they told you things you didin't want to hear/didn't align with your mind? Sometimes we get triggered, for different reasons: not just by the message itself but seen that you're not confident/trust yourself, you may only fear the message is not for you and therefore while reading, in the back of your mind, doubts keep rushing in even unconsciously and it may make you close off to the message (maybe the fact that you relied on "fate" through dices, relieved you from the stress of a choice and having to trust yourself, and made you accept the reading whatever it was about... it would be cool to check if your intuition would align with the dices, but ofc, the insecurity may pop in anyway at this point). 2-where you always grounded and stable while you where picking piles? I mean did you fear the result of the pile or you were tranquil "anyting goes, just tell me sth" -mood? I think you tend to stress a bit cause you really don't trust you first impulse, and therefore your intuition may go nuts anyway...

Tbh these things are important and to be kept in mind when evaluating if a pile is really not for us and why. It doesn't necessarily have to be your intuition wrong. Not to mention, if you force yourself to pick a pile when there is no message to a little one for you, it's hard for your intuition to decide a pile no matter what (and it will be wrong anyway). Trust yourself if you hear a "no" or a topic/reader doesn't call you.

Now, moving onto your specific question. All the readings are timeless because you can take them anytime in your life. They relate to how you feel, what are you working on, what you need, what you want in a specific moment of your life you happen to find them and take them (you can take now an old reading you didn't want to take a few years ago for any reason or because you found it now: it's all okay: present energy = the present moment in your life when you take a reading, today, tomorrow, in 3 years: it's always present energy for you: present today, present tomorrow, present in 3 years). If you keep having the same goal, the same problems, or you're searching for the same things and blablabla, it's likely that the pile will generally be the same cause you are staying in the same situation (your choice). BUT let's suppose it's a pac reading about healing and you took it a couple of times in around 5 months and always got pile 2; let's also suppose that after a trigger or a breakthrough in your real life, you start working on yourself and heal something that was mentioned in that pile 2 (e.g.). Let's now suppose that after a couple of months or more of work, you end up seeing that pac reading in your dashboard so you take it again: you may pick pile 1, and have a different message cause you healed what was mentioned in pile 2 and maybe now you need to focus on something else (according on the message of that pile 1 ofc). This is what I mean by you can use pacs to see where you are with your life and how it may be going.

The reading topic in your example is fs, therefore something in your future and something that doesn't strictly depend on solely you. (This said, it was present fo ryou the early 2020, and it was present for you September 2021. It is present today if you take it today, no matter what pile you get. The pile's choice depends on your actions, choices, things inside of you and how your present energy -in 2020, 2021, today- align with the energy read by the reader when they did the reading). If you changed something in your present life, and didn't align anymore with your future fs, you MAY get a different number, yes. BUT if you change something that has nothing to do with your future fs and how you two will get together or anything, you may even get the same number you always got anyway. Not every little change in your life will change your future that much. Plus, as said, if the reading is about your fs, it's not only on you: there's you and what you want in your person (it can change while healing/growing/after having different experiences/knowing yourself) ofc but there's also them and how they grow and change, heal, make experiences... if you two are still aligned, you may always get the same pile anyway. If you two are still aligned you may get a different pile but still recognize it's the same person cause of specific words/mentions/signs you can read in the pile. Or you can just change the type of person you want to have in your life and therefore get a different result cause of this (again, it depends on the specific topic of the reading too).

Does this help?

[mha-princess]

Crossing Lines - Part 2/3 [Bakugou x Fem!Reader]

part one is here | part three is here

Genre: Angst | 18+ | College AU | Ongoing |

A/N: The next part will most likely be the last part, as I don’t want to draw this out to the point where it’s annoying (⁍̴̆◡⁍̴̆ )⊃♡- Anako

Word Count: 2.5k+

Warnings: bakugous an asshole/very minor violence/explicit language / mentions of sex

Summary: falling for Katsuki and keeping it a secret was easy, but still being secretly in love with him after developing a friends with benefits relationship is hard.

Masterlist | Request Rules | Request Box

“Wait how long has this been going on ?” Mina questioned shoving bits of bagel into her mouth.

“ A month....... maybe five.” You shrug standing up to throw your plate away. You had invited Mina over for breakfast to talk about what had happened last night between you and Bakugou.

“So you’ve been hooking up with Bakugou for that long? I didn’t even notice, well no one noticed, not me, not Kami, not Kiri. Speaking of Kami and Kiri, where are they? I thought you invited them?”

“I did. They can’t just walk down a flight of stairs to get here, not everyone lives off campus.” You giggle at her unawareness and sit back down at the kitchen table. Mina nods.

“So what did you say her name was.” Mina questions, It takes you a minute to recall.

“Hayami?” You say slightly uncertain.

“Hayami? Yeah that definitely doesn’t ring a bell.” A few minutes late you and Mina are startled by the slam of your door.

“Hey, Hey, Hey.” Kirishima announces happily strolling over to the kitchen table and taking a seat, Kaminari following behind him.

“Ejiro how the hell did you just get in here?” Kirishima laughs and holds up a key.

“Bakubro said he stopped by and he accidentally grabbed this when he left.” He said tossing you the key. “So how are my favorite beauticools doing today?”

“Not good we need help with something.” Mina says taking her phone from her pocket.

“If it’s anything about classes we can’t help.” Kaminari says taking Minas bagel and finishing it.

“It has nothing to do with classes, as if we’d ask you two himbos for help.” Mina rolls her eyes. “Do you guys know a girl named, Hayami?”

Kirishima furrows his brow. “Hayami? I don’t think I ever even heard of the name.”

You turn to Kaminari who also has his phone out.

“What about you, Nari?”

“One moment.” He walks over to Kirishima and hands him his phone, leaving you and Mina to stare at eachother.

“Ohhhhhh Hayami! I do remember her! We met her the night me, Kami, and Bakugou crashed the arcade.” Kirishima facepalms. “She gave us her number but I don’t think any of us ever reached out.”

Mina scoffs. “Someone did.”

Kaminari and Kirishima looks at you both confused.

“Come again?” Kaminari says setting his phone on the table.

“Yeah? Is there something we’re not in on? Why are you worried about her out of all people?” Kirishima questions leaning forward in his chair.

Mina then explains to them your situation. Kaminari and Kirishima look at eachother in shock.

“Y/N! That’s like rule number one of friends with benefits! You don’t question outside affairs!” Kaminari groans.

“I know! But I love him Kaminari and I need to know if there’s someone else. I still have hope. Hope that he might like me. ” You say pain evident in your voice.

“Well if it’s any help I think I have her Instagram.” He says taking pity on you and opening Instagram. After finding it he quickly flips his phone face down.

“On second thought maybe that’s not a good idea.” He laughs nervously causing everyone at the table to look at him confused.

“Kaminari let me see your phone.” Kirishima says, standing up from the table. Kaminari quickly grabs his phone.

“I don’t think that a good idea, really.” He says slowly backing away as Kirishima grew closer.

Kirishima lunges at him and in an instant Kaminari is pinned to the ground.

“Y/N, catch.” He chunks the phone to you. Your hands easily grasping it from the air. Mina comes over, peeking over your shoulder and immediately she sighs, yeah this was a bad idea.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“Maybe it’s not what it looks like?” She says, blatantly ignoring the facts. Your eyes begin to burn.

Kirishima releases Kaminari from his hold and they walk over to you.

“He doesn’t even go to the cafe with us. He says it makes him look stupid to be in such a soft setting. But there he is with a girl. I mean she looks like his type. Cute button nose, black hair, brown eyes.” You clench your jaw, forcing back tears.

“Y/N don’t be like that! Your Bakugou’s type or else he-.” You cut Kaminari off mid sentence.

“If I was his type he wouldn’t be with her.” Tears streak down your cheeks and leave wet stains on the table. After a minute you get up from the table and grab a napkin to wipe your eyes.

“I’m sorry guys. I’m not his girlfriend I shouldn’t be upset.” Your friend come to your aid and crowd around you, engulfing you in a big hug.

“Don’t apologize for the way you feel babe.” Mina says.

“Yeah Y/N you have feelings. That’s only human.” Kirishima’s hold on you tightens a bit.

“And we’re always here.” Kaminari adds. After a few minutes of letting you bask in your sadness, they release you form their hold.

“Sorry for the hold up guys, but we need to get to class.” You chuckle and wipe the remaining tears from under your eyes.

“Yeah Mrs.Chu is always on me and Mina’s case about attendance.” Kaminari rolls his eyes at the thought of that lady.

“Soooo am I drivi-.”

“NO!” You all cut off Mina before she can finish. Today had all ready started off bad, and endangering your life with Mina reckless driving was the last thing you needed.

“I’ll drive.” Kirishima says grabbing his keys and opening the door. “Now come children, before we’re late.”

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

The day couldn’t possible go by more slowly. You couldn’t remain focused due to your situation, the situation that you started I must stress. You know it shouldn’t be pestering you, but you just couldn’t handle losing Katsuki to some random girl.

From the beginning you found yourself drawn to Katsuki. Yeah that might sound cliche, but it was the truth. The ash blonde hair that was slightly unkempt, the red eyes that could cut deep even if you were just glancing, and a smirk that held so many inaudible warnings. He was unruly, but at the same time beautiful.His personality was arrogant and short tempered, but that just made him all the more alluring.

The unapproachable heart throb is what he was. Pretty in the face, but dementing and vulgar in many different ways. Ways that should've been a warning, but weren't.  

When you first started hanging around Katsuki it was mostly kirishima's doing. He felt that all his friends should at least be formally aquantainted with one another, so some days you would have study sessions at your apartmet other days you would all would crash at the dorms. And every moment you were around Katsuki the more you were drawn to him.

One day Kirishima had left you two alone at the dorms to go re-up on snacks with Mina and Kaminari. Now this was most likely the only time you would be alone with Katsuki, so you took it upon yourself to ask him a couple of ‘questions’.

“Katsuki?”

“What?” he answers his eyes never leaving his phone.

The top half of his body hangs off the edge of his bed, his shirt barely covering his stomach.You go over and sit on the floor in front of him. Slowly, you reach up and run your hands through his coarse head of hair.

“The hell are you doing?” He questions, but doesn’t stop you from playing in his head.

“Can I ask you something.” The tone of your voice was soft but serious.

Bakugou then rolls over onto his stomach and throws his phone into the abyss of sheets beside him. He stares at you and the nervous you should’ve felt earlier makes it’s way into your body.

“You gonna speak or what?” He says annoyance leaking from his voice. You roll your eyes.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.” He responded rolling back over and grabbing his phone.

“Like you’ve never had one? No boyfriends, no girlfriends, no significant others?”

“I answered the damn question, no boyfriends, no girlfriends, nothing, relationships aren’t my kinda thing. The hell are you asking me this for anyway? ” He rolls back over, his eyes cutting deep into your thoughts.

“W-What about hookups?” Bakugou’s face goes blank for a minute before that cocky smirk makes its way to his face.

“Tcht is this what you were going on about? If you wanted some dick you couldve just said that.” His smirk grows as he watches you panic.

“We can hookup if that’s what you wanted to ask. But I have lines that shouldn’t be crossed.” He says rolling back over and chucking you his phone.

“Put your number in.” That cocky son of a bitch, not even letting you answer or explain yourself. I mean it’s not like you would’ve said no anyway. You hand him his phone back.

“Y/N wants to be fuck buddies with me? I didn’t peg you as the type.” He grins, his eyes burning right through you.

“Well you said you aren’t looking for a relationship, so I don’t see the harm in it.” You shrug. Bakugou nods in agreement, but raises a brow.

“I know I said I’m down but we can’t do any lovey dovey shit. This has to be strictly no feelings attached.”

Now, after he finished that statement a bell should’ve went off in your head. From that point you should’ve know that liking Katsuki wasn’t a good idea and hooking up with him would only lead to you hurting yourself, but clearly you were blinded. Blinded by the thought of him and blinded by the want of him because if you would’ve noticed you wouldn’t of still been sitting at your desk half dazed ten minutes after class had let out reminiscing about how you got yourself into this mess.

“Y/N, aren’t you going to leave, clearly your not staying behind for extra help, as you didn’t even write down the notes that were on the board.” You look down at your notebook, yeah it’s blank.

“I’m so sorry Mrs, I’ve had a lot on my Min-.”

“I don’t need your excuses, just get going so I can lock up.” You nod and grab your things. Upon picking up your phone you notice a message from Kirishima.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Message

Kirishima :)

Ummmm please don’t bite my head off for this but something came up and I had to leave early, Mina and Kaminari have dance practice and I didn’t want you to be stranded.............. So Bakugou is going to take you home, be at the front of the school. Ok? Ok. Love you ttyl 😘

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Your mouth hung ajar at the message. Why? Kirishima why? Why would he set you up for failure like that? You sigh as you walk out of the school doors.

It took a few minutes before Bakugou arrived and when he did your day only worsened. As you drew closer tot he car it was clear that someone else was in he front seat. A black haired, brown eyed someone. With gritted teeth you open the back door of the car and chunk your stuff in not saying a thing.

“Hello!” The girl exclaims as she turns around in her seat, sounding way to preppy and happy about this situation.

“You are?” You say not the least optimistic, Bakugou glaring at you from the rear view mirror.

“I’m Hayami.” She smiles and holds out your hand for you to shake. You turn and look out the backseat window.

“What are you his girlfriend?” Your jaw clenches as her face goes red. You stop her before she can answer that question.

“Katsuki can you drive? I have somewhere I need to be.” Hayami turns around in her seat as Bakugou mashes the gas.

The drive is silent until Bakugou starts taking a bunch of unfamiliar turns.

“What are you doing my house isn’t this way?” You say sitting up in your seat.

“I’m dropping Hayami off first.” He says pulling into an unfamiliar driveway.

“Thank you Katsuki. We should do this the same time next week.” She smiles and he nods in approval. She then steps out of the car and shuts the door. He sits there for a minute.

“Are you going to get in the front seat or stay back there like a dumbass.” You roll your eyes.

“Fuck you.”

Bakugou quickly puts the car in reverse and once again begins taking a bunch of unknown turns.

“Where the hell are you taking me?” He doesn’t say anything, but a few minutes later you find yourself in a vacant parking lot. He then gets out and climbs into the backseat.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He says shutting the door.

“I’m not the one with the damn problem.” You cross your arms and look away from him.

Annoyed with the way you were acting his hand grabs a hold of your cheeks, pressing your mouth inward as his lips ghost over your ear.

“Your a fucking brat.” You pry his hands from your face.

“I’m not a brat your a fucking asshole. Breaking your own damn rules. Did you tell your little girlfriend how the night before you took her on a date you were just at my house fucking me? Or did you tell her how many times you ate my pussy in that front passenger seat? I bet she doesn’t know anything about that now does she?” Your voice bitter and slightly heavy.

“I’m not fucking her, unlike you she has the potential to be more than a fuck toy.” Yeah he shouldn’t of said that. Upon finishing his sentence the palm of your hand quickly made impact with the side of his face, causing a sound that couldve been heard if anyone was near by.

“Take me home.” Your choke as your eyes began to burn. But he doesn’t move he stares at you still in shock from the hit. This time you push him to make him gain contact with reality again.

“I said take me home!” You shout tears now fully rolling down your face. He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s angry.

“Your fucking crazy Y/N. This, whatever the fuck we have going on is over. I don’t need your bullshit ruining what I have going on.” He says getting out of the backseat and back into the front.

The rest of the ride was silent. Bakugou was speeding clearly not wanting to be around you after slapping him senseless. Although you wanted to, you didn’t cry, you’d rather wait to release your tears when you got to the comfort of your home.

He slammed on the breaks as he pulled into tge front of your apartment complex. No words were exchanged. You simply grabbed your things and shut the door behind you. He didn’t apologize, hell he didn’t even look back to make sure you got into your apartment, he just drove off.

When you finally made it to the comfort of your room. A weird sense of pain hit you. It wasn’t the same kind of pain you felt yesterday, it was a unfamiliar pain. A pain so severe it caused your heart to physically hurt from your emotions that were running rampant.

A toy. That’s all you were to him and all you were ever going to be. Frustrated and a sobbing mess you take a piece of paper and a pen and begin to writing.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

People always say it’s better to have loved and to have lost, than to never of loved at all, but what if you’ve lost everything including yourself? What if you loved someone so much that you were willing to give them everything including your body, in exchange for nothing but a few minutes of being close them? Am I pathetic for wanting him to love me? Am I even more pathetic for having ignored the signs? The signs that he was no good for me. Bakugou Katsuki. The epitome of my pain, the epitome of my hurt, but the one I love most. It’s better to have loved and to have lost, than to never of loved at all, but I’ve lost all worth, all self love, and all reason to even try. ─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You fold the tear stained paper and slide it into your desk drawer. You then grab your phone and make a much needed call.

“Yes?”

“Is this Izuku?”

[ri-boo]

Okay but honestly, writing improvement? I feel like I’m improving. That’s the main reason I’m rewriting IINHF. OII? Because I think I can make it better.

Example of the same scenes, the first one from the original and the second one from the rewrite-

“Maybe it was the fact that he cried himself to sleep last night, or the fact that he’d had a not so nice dream, but Denki was not feeling like his usual self at all. He felt tired and like he wanted to just crawl into some hidden and quiet hole and stay there for a very, very long time. This wasn’t a feeling he was used to and it had him on edge, slightly irritated and definitely not successful in portraying his ‘normal’ upbeat and social self.

It felt like his skin was crawling and he should run and get rid of it or he should just sleep for the next year all at the same time.

The only good thing was that no one seemed to be noticing. They were too distracted by Present Mic’s loud English lecture. Which was completely understandable, Denki usually really liked this class and did semi decent work in here. But today, he couldn’t focus on a single thing the loud hero said. He couldn’t even write notes and ended up drawing random doodles just so his notebook page didn’t look so empty.

“-nari?”

“Kaminari?”

“Oh hmm? Sorry!” Denki snapped out of his daze and looked up.

“Can you read the next sentence for us?”

And shit. He couldn’t even remember what they were doing right now.

“Next sentence?” He asked.

Present Mic sighed and oh yup there the look was. “Textbook, page 28, 6th sentence down, please read it out loud for us.”

“Right sorry!” He laughed and reached for his textbook. It wasn’t on his desk. So he awkwardly turned and grabbed his bag, very well aware of all the eyes watching him fumble around trying to look for it. He spent a few seconds moving things around in his bag but to no avail.

He swallowed and set his bag back down. “Sorry Present Mic, I um... seem to have forgotten my textbook back in my room.” He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck, letting a short anxious laugh escape his mouth.”

~

“Maybe it was the fact that he cried himself to sleep last night, which was normal, don’t get him wrong, it was just draining more so now than he could ever remember it being in the past. Which meant it was hard to act like his ‘usual’ self. He was tired, god so tired and he just wanted to crawl into some hidden hole and hide there forever. Maybe he’d get some real rest that way, no bad dreams, no memories, ust actual sleep. It was a fun thing to imagine, unrealistic but imaginable.

It was bad, not being able to act like he was supposed to, not being able to keep the happy Denki portrayal up as well as he usually did. It put him on edge, made his skin crawl with an anxious staticky feeling because if he wasn’t able to be what he was supposed to be, people might just see through the cracks. And that, that could not happen. It just couldn’t.

The only good thing was the fact that no one seemed to notice. They were all too occupied with Present Mic’s loud English lecture. Which really, Denki couldn’t blame them. This was one of his favorite classes and he usually, less so lately, but usually did pretty decent work in this class. He liked to read a lot of English literature after all.

Today though, today he couldn’t seem to focus on anything at all. Not the notes he was supposed to be writing, not the loud voice hero’s lecture, he ended up doodling all over the page meant for his notes instead. It made the paper seem less empty, messier, but less empty. Which he figured was better than nothing at all.

“-nari?”

“Kaminari?”

“Oh hmm?” Denki snapped his head up at the sound of his name, pencil pausing its half-effort sketch of a rather tired looking, sleeping bag wrapped Aizawa-Sensei.

“Can you read the next sentence for us?” Present Mic asked, gesturing to Denki and his desk.

“Uh...” Shit. He didn’t know what they were doing. What were they doing Damnit, there was nothing on the board behind his teacher that would tell him what they were supposed to be doing (notes, they were supposed to be taking notes right?) and he wouldn’t dare look at his peers, he knew he’d be met with impatience and a few snickers and eye rolls. That was how it usually went.

So he swallowed and tapped the pencil in his hand onto his notebook, the tap, tap, tap, tap a good noise, narrowing his focus just a little along with the bouncing of his knee and the chewing of the inside of his cheek.

“Um... next sentence?”

Present Mic frowned, blinked and tilted his head to the side, that thing adults do when they're impatient and someone has just said something completely idiotic. Denki knew that look well.

“Yes. Please read the next sentence. Textbook page 28, the sixth sentence down.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Textbook? Why did he think they were taking notes? Textbook... where was his textbook? Oh no... not again. Denki looked around and inside of his desk, hoping to find that he had indeed put his textbook somewhere within reach, you know, like a logical, normal human being. When he found it nowhere, he reached for his backpack, knowing his peers' eyes were glued to him, some annoyed and some amused, because it was always those two, never anything else.

But... he didn’t find his textbook in his bag. So, he was fucked. With a nervous smile and laugh he looked towards Present Mic, not meeting his eyes, because that, that was too much but at least he was making the effort to look like he might be looking directly at his teacher. You know, respectful and all.

“Um... I uh... I think I left my textbook back in my dorm, Sensei. I forgot it. Sorry.” He laughed again, taking care to make it seem like the whole incident was nothing, just silly. Just silly was good. Just silly was normal, a daily sealant for those nasty little cracks in his happy Denki mask.”

[miss-tc-nova]

Taboo Indulgence - Riku x Reader

Have you ever read any of @lucky0stars YMX x Reader fics? You should. They are amazing! Seriously, check them out. That’s what got me thinking about relationships between GoL and SoD characters. I don’t think I got exactly the dynamic I was hoping for, but without making a gigantic series of this, I probably won’t. So tada!

Also, screw coming up with a title for this!!!

~~~~~

              Nary a noise breaks the silence upon arrival. A canvas of stars stretches across the sky, framing the pale moon that graciously grants its borrowed light. It’s a beautiful night tonight on Radiant Garden; it makes me excited to see him again. I’ve been keeping tabs on him for a while now and finally, after some weeks, I’ve managed to intertwine our paths once again.

              Excitement bursts in my chest when I catch sight of the young man up ahead and my feet swiftly carry me in his direction.

              Breath suspended in my lungs, I stalk towards my prey. His head is bowed, watching the little device in his hand; however, his attention is not entirely employed in the screen. He pauses to glance around but I’m lucky enough to have found cover around the corner of a shop. His walk resumes, as does my stalking.

              Grinning ear to ear, eager to get my hands on him, practically trembling in anticipation, I reach out.

              My fists snag his jacket and the full weight of my body throws both of us back into the dark portal. The second our feet reconnect with solid ground, he rips away from me, retaliating with a keyblade ilms from my skull but never connects. Our eyes meet and his teal eyes shift from fight to something much brighter.

              “What are you doing here?” he says, putting his all into sounding annoyed.

              Smile none perturbed, I hum, “Oh, you know, caught wind that my favorite Guardian was traipsing around Radiant Garden and I just had to have some fun.”

              “How many times have I told you to stay away from me?” Despite our opposition, his guard drops.

              “Nine. And yet you ended our last little rendezvous with ‘Remind me to teach you some manners the next time I see you,’” I say in a rather spot on imitation of him if I do say so myself. “So it seems to me, that you were expecting me to come crashing into your life again, Riku. And who am I to disappoint.”

              Oh, my joy is tremendous in seeing that frown as his words are turned on him.

              He grumbles, “Yeah, well, you still don’t have any manners.”

              “You didn’t like my little sneak attack?” I feign shock.

              “No, otherwise it wouldn’t be called an attack.”

              “Sure it would.” Twirling around, I wave to the peculiar rising falls. “Besides, just look at this view. How could I find someplace so beautiful and not share it? You should be honored.”

              His teal eyes look out at the water. With a sigh, he dismisses his keyblade. “It is pretty; more than it is during the day actually.” I grin but he’s not really having it. “Was there actually something you wanted me for?”

              “No, not really,” I hum, my gaze following the water to the sky.

              When I realize there’s no response, I turn to him. There’s something on his face I’ve only seen glimpses of. Since we met in the Realm of Dreams, Riku’s made a point of keeping me at arm’s length with a serious attitude. I can’t blame him, but now and then, he slips up and shows me someone gentle and almost innocent. However, this is the first time he’s worn that expression while looking at me. It’s almost as if he wants to interact without his usual bite and I find myself now and then hoping that he will.

              And then he realizes I’m watching him and glares.

              “So you just wanted to be annoying.”

              “Aren’t I always annoying you, Riku?” I say with a cheeky shrug.

              “I suppose that is your M.O.,” he mutters. “So what did you get up to since your last ambush in Arendelle?

              “Ah, you know. Some heartless here, some terror over there. The usual.”

              His head shakes. “You’re impossible to understand.”

              “I don’t know why. I’ve been perfectly honest with you.” His skepticism is palpable. “Oh you wound me! How could you ever assume I would lie to you?! Go on, ask me anything.”

              He ponders his opportunity. “What were you doing in Twilight Town last week?”

              I shake my head, hands raised. “Well I can’t tell you that.”

              “You said you’d tell me anything.”

              “No, I said I wouldn’t lie.”

              “Okay, fine. Why do you keep following me?”

              That’s a question I could answer in a heartbeat: it’s fun. But that’s a shallow answer; I know that and I’m fairly certain so does he. Admittedly, his response to my pestering had first marked him as the perfect plaything, but I can’t actually write him down as just a toy—not anymore. Still, I’m not entirely sure what it is that draws my wandering feet back to him. I suppose, if I were being honest with myself, I want to see the person he is when he doesn’t know I’m watching: someone bright in spite of his darkness. I’ve seen his sincerity and perseverance and those are things to be admired, even if we are on opposing sides. Even if I can’t name them all, there are reasons I keep coming back.

              Fuck.

              In lieu of this enlightenment, I find my gaze hitched on his mouth. Sparks flicker in my chest, but I grin nonetheless.

              “Because it’s fun. Don’t you enjoy our little run ins?”

              The instant protest dies on his tongue. “I…I don’t know.”

              That’s not the answer I was expecting, but it spurs the hope growing in me. I decide to start pushing some boundaries. With his guard against me nearly gone, it doesn’t take much to push him up against a rogue stone.

              “That’s not a no,” I say, my eagerness creeping into my voice.

              A blush tints his face. Despite my forwardness, Riku seems more mesmerized than appalled.

              “No…it’s not.”

              My excitement is getting away from me, compelling me to lean closer. “Between the two of us, I believe you’re the peculiar one here.”

              For the first time, he cracks a smile, albeit, something wry. “I’m starting to think so too.”

              “Are you aware of how easy it would be for me to dispose of you in this instant?”

              “I am.” I see the anticipation in the way in his mouth writhes.

              A smirk plays at the corner of my lips. “And you still trust me?”

              My advance halts, his shuddering breath ghosting across my lips. I’ve been at the steering wheel of this rollercoaster relationship, doing whatever pleased me in the heat of the moment; but I won’t take this. No, this is far too important to be stolen on a whim. I need to hear him say it, no matter how my heart flutters.

              “Yes.”

              Relief bleeds into my soul, but at the same time, the madness I’d barely been able to contain ignites. The dread that spreads across his face at my resultant expression is absolutely precious.

              “What a shame.”

              I plunge headlong into my avarice, drowning Riku with me.

              With each kiss, part of me assumes the novelty will weather away—that I’ll finally be content. What a fool I am. I crave more and more with no end in sight. No matter the pressure, the duration, the angle: I simply cannot get enough.

              Riku is barely more than a passenger in this experience, struggling to keep up as I string him along. Of course, what participation he can sneak into my barrage serves as encouragement. When he finally falters though—breaking the kiss to gasp for air—I retaliate. My hand pulls at the silver hair and his lips curl back in a grimace, but he gives me what I want: access to his neck. The moment my lips graze his skin, his body goes rigid. As I trace the muscle with my tongue, I finally seem to be making ground on this greed when I hear his breath stagger. A new wave of eagerness crashes down on me as I take hold just above his shoulder.

              Sufficiently satisfied with the mark left behind, I survey my victim. His brows stitch together but do nothing against the pink tint painted across his cheeks. Even his eyes burn with a hunger I assume matches what I feel.

              I let my hands trail from his hair to cup his face.

              “My, aren’t you just beautiful,” I whisper.

              That shade deepens and, without hesitation, Riku places a hand behind my head to begin another round. This time, he attempts to lead, but my gluttonous response brings him down to my level in a back-and-forth of action and reaction. It’s not quite the vindication of having him a floundering mess beneath me, but I admit, I like the bite he tries to fight back with.

              Suddenly, fingers ensnare my hair, ripping me away from the object of my desire. I can hear him shouting as I’m being led away in pain. When released, I just have time to see the dark portal disappearing, leaving me in the wastelands of the Keyblade Graveyard. I whirl on my attacker with a homicide on my mind.

              I am royally screwed.

              Golden eyes burn with the fury barely contained on the rest of his face. I could’ve lied through my teeth to just about anyone, maybe even the old man himself, but the one person I came here with is the one person who could tear the truth from me.

              “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Just like his expression, anger smolders beneath his words.

              The question is rhetorical; he already knows the answer. Still, I have to say something.

              “What? Didn’t you want him on our side?”

              Xehanort slights his eyes at me. “Are you bringing him to the darkness? Or is he taking you to the light?”

              “Excuse me?!”

              “I trust you. You could damn near kill half our members and I would have your back.” His rein on his composure is slipping. “But this! How could you choose him over us?!”

              “How fucking dare you!”

              “HOW CAN I NOT WHEN I FIND YOU MAKING OUT WITH THE ENEMY?!”

              He has a point, but I can’t admit that. “Please. You of all people know how little a kiss can mean.”

              “So then what did it mean to you?”

              Glaring straight into his eyes, voice low and steady, I answer him. “It meant nothing.”

              “Bullshit.”

              Of all our friends, Xehanort could be the most observant and calculated. He probably saw ages ago what it took me until today to realize. I never had a chance against him.

              “You came here with me to save them.” His bristling smooths out and Xehanort releases all the emotion riled inside. With cold ruthlessness, he looks me dead in eye. “And if I have to, I’ll save you too.”

              I can’t fight him, and I can’t lie to him; I’m just…

              Fucked.

              “Xehanort…”

              “I’ll keep your secret for now.” I won’t be able to get another word in—this conversation is over. “But if I find you with him again, there won’t be any more secrets to keep.”

              Leaving me heartbroken and miserable, Xehanort disappears into a Dark Corridor. I don’t know who I was trying to kid. I told myself a million different things when meeting with Riku—it was just a game, I wanted to screw with him, I was bored—but I wanted to see him because I was interested in him.

              Now I have a choice to make and there’s no one to blame but myself.

[jeongi]

caught me. | jjk (m)

(edit done by my love, @httpjeon)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 13.5k

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | roommate au. slight e2l au. smut. porn with very little plot.

↣ 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | explicit language and sexual content. mentions of vaping. mutual masturbation, sex toy usage, oral sex (f + m receiving), gagging, fingering, squirting, dirty talk, some wall fucking, riding, unprotected sex (you know the drill, wrap it up), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, jungkook has tattoos, long wavy hair and a giant schlong.

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you hate your temporary roommate, jungkook and it doesn’t help that he’s been catching you at the most inconvenient of times.

“Seokjin, how could you do this to me?” You whine from the kitchen island, reflexively stabbing at the bowl of cereal in front of you. You can’t believe your roommate is just now telling you, a day before he leaves for vacation, that his “friend” will be temporarily moving in while he’s away. Of course, Seokjin pays no mind to your tantrum. Instead, he continues packing the last of his luggage in the living space, across the room. Simply rolling his eyes and heaving a sigh in response, he’s far more acquainted with your antics than he’d like to be. He could almost call you the younger sibling he most certainly never wanted, a nuisance wrapped in feigned misery. The arrangement between the two of you seemed nothing more than the result of a last-ditch Craigslist roommate search.

He should have known the consequences, he supposes.

Another sigh escapes his lips as he turns his attention away from the luggage. “_____, I’m only leaving for three months.”

You wail again, this time, your arms stretching across the cool, granite counter to push the bowl away from yourself. You’ve wholly lost your appetite, ready to wreak havoc as you slide off the stool you’re sat on and stomp your way over to him.

“I don’t care about you leaving me!” Seokjin scoffs at this statement, returning his focus to the open suitcase laid on the floor in front of him. “I care about you stuffing me in this apartment with a complete stranger while you’re gone.” What was the fucker’s name again? Jon Q, John Cook? You’re furious, but of course, Seokjin fails to take notice of this. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone and scrolls through his extensive list of items to pack. He’s only gotten through half of it.

Your words don’t seem to have much of an impact on him, fueling your fury. “What if he tries to murder me? Or even worse, what if I end up murdering him? You won’t even be here to help me hide the body— this is a travesty!” This is followed with another signature sigh, all drama, your wrist shooting up to your forehead as you dab at invisible sweat.

You briefly think you might actually hate Seokjin.

He pauses, dropping his phone into the open luggage before craning his head towards you. Blinking, purely baffled by the lunacy he has to constantly put up with, he internally gives his utmost gratitude to the heavens that his work has sent him on this European trip tomorrow. Three clean months of the peaceful canals of Venice, the Colosseum in Rome, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and most importantly, three lovely quiet months away from you. Suddenly, three months no longer seems an eternity to him. How could it? He assesses you top to bottom, seeing nothing more than a rabid young woman scorned, hands placed sternly on her hips, expectant of a reply.

No sir, three months is not long enough at all.

Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing his eyes shut as he speaks through gritted teeth. “You are the most melodramatic person I know— you think you can afford to pay my rent for the next three months?” This shuts you up momentarily.

For a moment, you’re disarmed. You can’t argue that he’s right, and you hate admitting it’s the only reason for your new (temporary) roommate.

Releasing his nose, he looks at you, warming a little. “Look, he asked to stay here -temporarily- until he finds his own place. He’s my best friend; wouldn’t you do the same for yours?”

That final bit had the effect he wanted it to, and boy, did it sting. Of course, you’d do the same for your best friend. The only trouble is that you know very little information about this John Cook character, only getting brief details about him moving into the big city for the first time and Seokjin “graciously” providing him a rental until he can find something more permanent. It isn’t a fault on Seokjin’s half. You just don’t know the poor bastard.

Beyond that, you know this guy is a Taekwondoin, moving here to join one of the most prestigious Taekwondo academies in the country. Your blood runs cold in a sudden rush, a certain grim realization dawning on you that you’d absolutely be no match for him if he did try to kill you. Perhaps Seokjin has told you so late because he too wants you dead. You really shouldn’t have met him through Craiglist.

You consider leaving a lengthy, final Tumblr post in remembrance of your inevitable end, hoping one of your 12 followers would come forth and save you from a gruesome slashing. At best, someone saves your life. At worst, you’ve written your own eulogy.

Huffing a breath of frustration, something akin to a groan escapes you as you march back to the kitchen island for your now soggy bowl of cereal. It only fuels your now quiet rage further, but pettiness takes over, mentally muting Seokjin’s yelling profanities after watching you dispose of one of his favourite glass bowls. It’s the least you can do as revenge.

As it turns out, Jeon Jungkook is a nearly six feet tall mural of muscle and inked skin that rarely stays home. His dark wavy hair falls gracefully past his large doe eyes, and his plethora of tattoos litter the tight expanse of his neck and arms. Notably, the blossom of two red roses painted over the porcelain of his neck.

Though verbally a silent roommate, you find he vapes far too much and equally plays far too much Fortnite at odd hours of the night. He only comes out of his room to either make himself food or to leave the apartment, and a couple of times you could have almost sworn he might’ve been doing his laundry. He’s a feast to lay eyes on, that much is irrefutable but he leaves at least one utensil unwashed after eating, irritating you to an unprecedented degree.

Jungkook also enjoys eating ramen at two in the morning- you know this because it wakes you up almost every time you hear the microwave blare its oppressive siren. He also figures he must shower each time he returns home from being out, suitably fattening your poor water bill. You’ve only briefly spoken to him a handful of times, mostly about house rules and a tour of the facilities.

It’s only been two weeks since he’s arrived, yet you already seem to despise him- sending Seokjin angry messages from across the globe about this, all of which have been ignored. You’ve been too busy lately anyway, rarely seeing Jungkook who seems to be out for most of the day.

However, it’s today that you finally catch him when you’re just coming home from work. He sits at the kitchen island, flipping through a comic while he loudly chomps on an open bag of shrimp chips, pausing to look at you as you make your way inside.

You’re on speakerphone with your friend Nari, both of your arms too occupied and laden with groceries to normally hold the phone to your ear. Upon seeing this, Jungkook gets up from his seat and immediately rushes to lend a hand. He’s completely shirtless, his loose dark sweatpants hugging the low subtle curve of his hips, and it’s only then that you notice the mosaic of more tattoos scattered across his skin beyond his full sleeves and the two red roses on his neck. He has much more than you had initially seen, a large black and white snake running over his pelvic bone. It draws your eyes forward, let’s it linger over to his bare abdomen, untouched with ink and defined with muscle. You can see it evidently, the indents carved into him as if he’s been sculpted from the finest of limestone.

You catch yourself from staring, thanking him with a silent bow of your head as he turns away from you, all the bags of groceries now racked effortlessly down his taut arms. Your momentary and involuntary ogling is cut short by Nari’s voice booming through the loudspeaker of your phone.

“God, you really need to get laid soon- I’m tired of you being so grumpy.” You freeze, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I already deal with one grump on a daily, I don’t need to add another to my inventory.”

Fuck. “Yeah, well, working on it!” You titter nervously into the microphone. It’s all in vain, for Nari is relentless in her pursuits.

“Didn’t you say your new roommate was hot? Just fuck him, that’d be pretty convenient. It’s like, like...dick-on-demand!” She laughs, guffawing into the mic as though it’s the most hilarious thing she has ever said. You stand there, eyes wide and mortified as the cackle from the other end of the line sounds more villainous than genuine humour. Her words linger still in the air, and a very deep desire to Crtl+Z yourself from life’s current existence fills your petrified body.

You know Jungkook has heard the words because he pauses in his step very briefly, faint stutters in his movement as his back stays turned towards you. Before you catch the slightest motion of his head about to look over his shoulder, you’re whipping around and fumbling for your phone. With the greatest deft you can muster, your thumbs desperately try smashing the giant red ‘end call’ button.

To no avail, the phone screen freezes, Nari’s cackling report still filing through.

You think this feels like a nightmare. In fact, you’re certain you’ve had a nightmare precisely like this before. Except this is real, very much real and you’re humiliated. cheeks surely flushed crimson as you tut in annoyance at your malfunctioning product of capitalism.

Jungkook simply clears his throat and continues moving towards the kitchen once again, acting as if nothing has happened. Under any other circumstances, you would almost be offended, but given the current nature of what has just transpired, you both let the feeling pass. “Anyway,” Nari continues and you wish she’d shut up. “I gotta go, Yoongi just got Minecraft and I’m going to give him the best head of his life,” she groans into the mic in satisfaction. “I love you, bye!” She cuts the mic, completely and blissfully unaware of the impending Armageddon she’s inadvertently spawned. You’re stood there in horrified silence, counting to five in your head before you’re very anxiously swivelling around.

You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. What could you even say?

Jungkook cuts in. “I’ll uh, put these away. Don’t worry about it.” He beams you a rather charming grin, completely devoid of any awkward tension that filled the air moments ago. Somehow, this surprises you far more than if he had acknowledged it.

You thank him with haste, your feet acting much quicker than your head as you swiftly cut across the kitchen towards the hallway where your bedroom stands. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, your face is surely now painted just as red as Jungkook’s bag of shrimp chips on the counter.

Perhaps it’s to ease yourself more than anything that you decide to get angry over this situation. You’re not angry at Nari, no, you’re angry at Jungkook. Who was he to waltz into your apartment and have you monitor your phone calls? And be shirtless nonetheless? Had he no manners? Why should you have to tiptoe around him? You think if this were Seokjin, he wouldn’t nearly make everything so uncomfortable for you in your own place of living. Seokjin would also wash all his dishes and sleep at a reasonable time. This thought only fuels you more.

The words slip out of you before you can even comprehend stopping. “For Christ’s sake wear a shirt while I’m home, I don’t need to see you prancing half naked around the apartment. This isn’t Magic Mike, it’s home- my home.” You bark, halting Jungkook in his movements as he goes to place a new carton of milk into the fridge. He turns to look at you, the dangle of his silver earrings glinting against the light and you almost grimace at how attractive he looks in this moment.

Before he can respond, you’re pivoting away from him and walking towards your bedroom.

You slam your door with a thud and let out a strangled groan. Perhaps it was too harsh, the anger is now replaced with further distress. You toss yourself onto your mattress, stuffing your face into the nearest pillow and restraining yourself with every ounce of self-control you have from screaming your lungs out into it.

You hadn’t even called Jungkook hot, you had mentioned that he was conventionally attractive- which wasn’t a lie in the slightest. You’re half tempted to call her back and scold her good for the humiliation she’s so blissfully unaware of causing, but as you pick up your phone, a text flashes across your screen with a name you’re all too familiar with. And all too soon, your agitation grinds to a halt, dissipates and metamorphosizes into a goofy, toothy grin.

Taehyung - [1 New Text Message]

Kim Taehyung works just across the room from you on the seventh floor of the accounting firm. He has rich blonde hair and plump pink lips that he constantly wets with a dab of his tongue. You swear he’s been purposely winding you up recently, the brushes against your skin too frequent, the lingering stares too prolonged and the husk in his voice too low when he speaks to you. You’ve had a crush on Taehyung since you’ve started working at the firm, two years ago. Of course, he’s completely unaware of this.

5:44pm [Taehyung]: Hey, can I ask you for a favour?

The squeal you let out is unbearable, even to you. You feel the reminiscence of being back in middle school when your sixth-grade crush, Park Jimin had asked you to the Halloween dance. Of course, that night had ended terribly for you, catching Jimin and your rival, Sooya slow dancing while you went to get unnaturally lukewarm fruit punch from the snack bar. But much like right now, you remember the butterflies fluttering through your entire body the night before the dance.

Feeling the crimson warmth return to your cheeks, you clutch your phone to your chest while a coy smile stretches across your lips. You practice your well-rehearsed, five-minute wait before texting Taehyung back, typing and retyping your response until you’re satisfied with a legible reply. Pursing your lips, you go back and forth between adding a smiley face or not, ultimately choosing to go with one just to further the delusions in your head that adding one will somehow make him fall madly in love with you.

5:50pm [You]: of course you can! :)

You gasp when your phone vibrates within seconds, a giddy coo leaving you as his name flashes once more across your screen. You slap a hand over your mouth when you hear the footsteps of Jungkook pass by your door, your eyes darting towards the shadow of his feet seen just underneath the crack of your door. His room- rather Seokjin’s room- is right next door to yours, another unfortunate occurrence in your miserable life.

5:50pm [Taehyung]: Could you possibly drop me off at the airport tomorrow morning? I’ll treat you to breakfast on the way!!

Your grin grows tenfold, your teeth clutching your bottom lip in its hold as you glide your fingers over the keyboard with an answer.

5:52pm [You]: it’d be my pleasure!!

It seems as if everyone but you and Jungkook were going away on vacation from this hell city. Perhaps you may be in need of one too.  

You drop Taehyung off at the airport at five in the morning. You think it should be illegal for anyone to wake up at such an hour. You hadn’t had much time to sleep, Jungkook’s nightly ramen snacking occurring at exactly two in the morning, just two hours before you were supposed to be awoken by the chirps of your alarm. As if the morning couldn’t have gotten any worse, you had learned Taehyung was travelling abroad to meet his very long-term and long-distance girlfriend for the first time. Your luck seems to have worsened as you’ve aged. All the signs you thought you’d seen of him visibly showing his interest in you had all been in your head.

By the time you reach home, it’s six, the sun barely peeking through the hillside view from your apartment and your eyes are droopy, heavy with sleep. A yawn escapes you as you place your keys on the kitchen counter before you kick off your shoes and shuffle towards the living room in a slump. You plop onto the couch, releasing a long exhale as you lift your feet up to lay more comfortably.

Briefly, you think you should stay up and get your day started, as you reckon most people who have their shit together would do as such. Unfortunately for your itinerary, you’re not most people and you’re certainly not someone who has their shit together. You’re _____ and you’re now dreaming, dreaming of a single Kim Taehyung.

His mouth is on yours, golden locks under the tight grip of your fingers and his cock is steadily rocking into you, fingers digging into your sides. He has you seated on the bathroom counter, your legs circled around his waist as his sharp thrusts elicit the neediest of cries from you.

“Taehyung!” You’re moaning, eyes rolled so far back into your skull, you feel the pull of your optic nerve. Loosening your grip on Taehyung’s hair, he moves away from your mouth and rests his forehead in the crook of your neck. Every curve of his dick plunges in calculated fashion into your cunt, egging you closer to your undoing.

Another sharp thrust has your entire body shuddering, a lapse of jitters filling you as your orgasm rumbles through you. When Taehyung lifts his head from the crook of your neck, you gasp. For when you look at his face, it’s no longer Taehyung, it’s now Jungkook.

He offers a lopsided smirk, an indent of his dimple forming around the right side of his mouth while a finger trails down your cheek.

“Wake up,” the apparition whispers.

You gasp awake, spine shooting upright as you heave heavy breaths. Skimming your hands over your face, you let out a frustrated groan, bewilderment and daze hitting you as you land right back to reality.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You hear a low voice and you immediately shriek, arms hugging yourself in a mock attempt to hide yourself even if you are fully clothed at the moment. You look over, glancing at the tall, frozen figure stood in the kitchen. His doe eyes are wide, startled by your reaction, dark hair wavy and long, clinging around the edge of his pale face and you can see the faintest trace of the red ink on his neck underneath the loose collar of his black hoodie. He’s got a knife in one hand and a half-cut tomato laid on a cutting board in front of him. “I-I was going to wake you up for lunch but…” His face has suddenly flushed to a shade of rose, tongue swiftly dabbing at his bottom lip. He clears his throat and hesitates before looking away. “Y-you seemed engrossed in your sleep, I didn’t want to wake you up.” What was that supposed to mean?

When you look behind him, the pot on the stove is steaming and it’s then that you catch the aroma of sauteed onions and oregano. Naturally, your mouth instantly waters, eyes glancing over to the digital clock that displays itself on the stove. It reads as five minutes past noon and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before you’re blinking towards the time again. Had you really passed out for a solid six hours? How long had Jungkook been here? “You...don’t have work today?” You swallow, slowly raising up your feet.

Jungkook merely chuckles and shakes his head no. The silver of his dangling earrings swings with this motion. “I’m not working yet, I’m a student at Master Seong’s.” You had almost forgotten about the Taekwondo Academy, it’s the exact reason he’s now standing here in your kitchen cutting tomatoes. “Hopefully, I’ll be the one teaching by next year.” As he speaks, you notice he has a perfect set of pearly whites but then you think of course he does- anything that would make Jeon Jungkook less perfect at this point would be a micropenis. For whatever reason, that makes your blood boil but as much as you’re in disdain, the thought instantly brings attention to a sweltering puddle between your legs.

Your head shoots down, feet shifting uncomfortably as you feel a slick cling against your panties and it’s then that every aspect of your sex dream hits you in a movie montage. You had fully and wholeheartedly dreamt of Jungkook fucking you.

You gasp, unwillingly, feet losing balance before you catch yourself against the counter. Jungkook pauses and looks at you, a tentative eyebrow cocking in your direction in question.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, more curious than considerate. His voice seems to ebb and flow with the sultry ease that only he could— my god, maybe you do need to get laid.

You use your elbows to push yourself off the counter before you’re walking over to the stove, body brushing against Jungkook’s back as you reach for the vent switch.

“Next time you cook something, turn on the exhaust fan or else it’ll get smokey in here.” You say, voice stoic like ice in this smothering heat, ignoring the blatant arousal seeping out of your cunt. You brush past him once more to make way towards the hallway.

Jungkook sighs in defeat, watching as your figure disappears into your bedroom.

The moth outside your window bats against the patio light with a fierce determination that boggles your mind. You wonder what might be going through the moth’s head: does it ponder this alien, man-made warmth it now feverishly flutters around? Does it understand it in the slightest? Why else would such a simple creature be breaking the peace of a sticky midsummer’s eve?

You glance at the clock on your dresser. It’s now half past midnight, and you’re dying in this stupid heat. Perhaps it didn’t help that you had a six-hour nap, impressed by your ability to do so in broad daylight. And you can’t get it out of your head, the dream. It’s kept you horny all day- in need of relief. You think about the last time you’ve had sex, a one night stand with a tall, polite gentleman named Namjoon. It was quite possibly the best sex you’ve ever had, a shame you never caught his number.

With a less than pathetic groan of protest, you put your head between the pillow and the mattress, savouring the seconds of coolness that surround your head in a desperate bid to lower the temperature however you can. Something’s got to be better than stringing sex and a fucking invertebrate into the same train of thought this late at night.

Raising your head up from the pillow, you weigh your options. You’re not about to drink yourself to sleep, and your secret supply of ZzzQuil has run dry. Fortunately, you have a solution.

It’s nights like tonight that you can’t hold yourself back, orgasms helped you sleep better anyway. Your vibrator mocks you, blinking as it charges for the first time in weeks. You hear Jungkook shuffle on the other side of the room, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you quietly reach your bedside table for a pair of headphones. You grasp at odds and ends until your fingers find purchase, and with a small sense of victory, you pull a very tangled mess of headphones from the drawer. You hear a cough on the other side and pause, gulping as if you’re fourteen all over again and just discovered the fruits of pleasuring yourself for the first time.

The vibrator’s LED light switches to a solid green, indicating its readiness to abuse your very untouched clit. You flush at the thought, yet eager as the familiar moisture pools in between your legs. You’re suddenly all too ready, all too demanding of the touch of a toy that you haven’t felt in too long. Why had you been putting this off for so long?

Unplugging it from the outlet next to your bed, you slip off your shorts and lay comfortably back onto your mattress. Another blush creeps onto your cheeks, your thumb unlocking your phone and opening the Chrome app. Making sure to switch to a private browser, you hesitantly type it in.

‘Pornhub’

The link loads embarrassingly quickly and you flush further, a mix of both the heat and your self chagrin marking the apples of your cheeks. You don’t even know what to look for, the home page overwhelming you with a variety of sinful thumbnails, begging to be clicked on. It almost makes you grimace in distaste, suddenly too aware of your surroundings and the situation at hand. You decide against pornography, gripping onto your imagination as you toss your phone aside and clear your throat, settling back onto the mattress with your eyes closed.

You’ll think about Namjoon. His broad hands, slender fingers and that deliciously thick cock. His moans, his honey skin and the way he was able to make you come twice that night.

Spreading your legs apart, you fixate the vibrator against your heat, gasping at the cool tip of the silicone already sensitive against your clit. You’re already soaked, the head gliding over your clit with slick.

It feels wrong when you turn the device on, the low buzz of vibrations filling the air. Brows knitted together, you picture Namjoon again. Trying to imagine the stroke of his tongue against your folds as the buzz of your vibrator rings through you, you gasp at the overwhelming sensation. Why didn’t you do this more often? You try to stay quiet, breathing growing laboured as the image of Namjoon between your legs morphs into something else. Rather, it morphs into someone else.

You see it in your head, your fingers threading through dark curls, legs pinned apart by two ink-sleeved arms. When you look down, you’re met by the intense gaze of brown doe eyes, his brows furrowed as his tongue flicks relentlessly against you. It’s almost as he’s smirking at you, the slightest quirk in his eyebrow implying that he knows he’d fucking you well with only his tongue. The image makes you shudder, shaking your head as you kick this sick fantasy out of your mind. Were you out of your mind?

On the other side of the room, Jungkook’s ears perk up to the sound of this low buzz. He hadn’t realized you were still awake. But as the buzzing intensifies, and a rhythmic deep breathing follows, it soon grows impossible to ignore. He has to be certain. Cautiously removing one earphone, he almost leans into the noise, cocking his head to the side.

No, that’s definitely you, alright.

You gasp as you apply more pressure to your clit, eyes rolling back from the waves of vibrations surging through your entire body. You can’t get it out of your head, imagining Jungkook’s taut arms holding you down, his tongue unforgiving against you. The moan that escapes you is wholly on accident, a hand slapping against your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself further.

Jungkook sits at his desk, dumbfounded. Were you really doing what he thought you were? Surely not. It’s then that hears the moan. It penetrates the thin wall that separates the two of you and stirs a familiar twitch in his boxers. He feels it press against the fabric, stretching with every heartbeat that knocks against his ribcage. His breathing begins to deepen, only letting his imagination wander as to what you were doing in this moment, merely a few feet away.

No, he thinks. Absolutely not. Behave yourself.

You’re…well, you’re moaning.

Fuck this, Jungkook’s inner dialogue protests. If you’re not going to play fair, then neither is he. He rises from his desk, tripping slightly over his office chair, clattering the plastic wheels against the hardwood floor. The sound reverberates through what feels like the entire house, and the silence is broken by the impact, which by all accounts seems far too noisy for its own good.

Jungkook freezes, terrified. The buzzing ceases just as suddenly, and the air is replaced with an undesirable discomfort.

Inside your room, your left hand tightens over your mouth the other switches off the vibrator. The kerfuffle seemed to have occurred frighteningly close, prompting a sudden cease to desist all sinful pleasures. The anxieties come in waves, one after another. Did he hear you? Oh God, how long was he listening? Was that even him?

A painful eternity passes. The silence fills the house once more, the crickets outside resuming their nightly song.

Jungkook half expects you to barge into his room, fuming at him for being a pervert and listening in but your feared assault never comes. If anything, his cock only seems to grow harder, the thought of you pleasuring yourself just on the other side of the wall so alluring, he begins to palm himself over his boxers.

You, on the other hand, upon the silence, convince yourself that he hadn’t heard after all. Surely, it was something else, Jungkook had probably already gone to bed.

Jungkook. Your lips form the shape of his name but no sound comes out, only a heavy exhale. This is wrong, beyond inappropriate and downright vulgar. It’s the dimples, you try to argue with yourself. Or those eyes, a deep coffee brown that take away from his masculine frame. It almost brings a childlike charm, distracts you from the surfeit of tattoos that mark his muscular build.

With impatience, you start the vibrator again, placing the device over your clit once more. You’re soaked beyond control, your own fingers itching to be stuffed inside yourself. Thumb hitting the setting button, the buzz of vibrations grow an octave higher as the intensity of the second setting rolls over your bead with a blast of euphoric pleasure. It’s almost too much, legs clamping shut as the judder of silicone repeatedly assaults your clit. Your panting growing quicker, inching you to tip over the edge. Oh, how you yearned to be filled with a cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, giving into the barbaric thoughts in his head. Quietly, he slides his boxers down his thighs and situates himself back onto his desk chair. His cock is throbbing, tip a blushed pink as his heartbeat begins to resonate harder. Were you doing this on purpose? Were you testing him? Teasing him? He rests his head back, eyes fluttering to a close as he holds the base of his painfully erect cock with his right hand.

His hand slowly begins to slide up and down his own length, twisting slightly whenever his fingers cross over his glans. The sensation fills him with ecstasy, and he can’t help but gasp as he tightens his grip and continues to stroke his cock. He thinks of you, on the other side of the wall with your legs spread, flushed and begging to be fucked. How well he’d fit inside you, how well you’d take him in your tight cunt and how you’d whimper his name into his ear. With these thoughts, his pace on himself quickens, breaths laboured against the air. This was wrong, so wrong but hearing you like this, imagining you sprawled on your bed in desperate need of his touch only pushes him further to his climax.

For a moment, he thinks about risking it all and just ripping your door open to fuck you into your next existence. He stays planted onto the leather seat, his hands roaming in a familiar rhythm.

You are minutes, seconds away from seeing strings of white. It’s when you raise your vibrator to its third setting that you come undone, biting the inside of your cheek as your orgasm plummets you to a new horizon and Jungkook’s name sits at the edge of your tongue.

You feel it spray out of you, your arousal sprinkling over your bed sheets in a clear indication of your collapse. You gasp and shudder, quick to turn off the device as its relentless motion becomes far too much for your sensitive clit.

You lay for a moment, gathering your bearings as your high lingers between the furrow of your eyebrows. Your head feels heavy, sleep overtaking every inch of your body and you begin nodding off almost instantaneously, vibrator still in hand. It’s when you shift to doze more comfortably that your thigh makes contact with a cool, wet splotch.

Your eyes spring open and you’re sitting up, flicking on your bedside lamp. You have just squirted all over your sheets, the damp puddle prominent and deride. You sit there in disbelief, blinking at the mess between your legs. You frown, suddenly becoming aware of the incessant pounding in your head from your high and you curse yourself for making such a mess.

Now you have to do the laundry, there’s no way you could sleep in these.

Jungkook is close, frustratingly so…it won’t take much at this rate for him to blow his load all over himself. He places his hand firmly around the chair handle, fingers gripping against the plastic. His other hand strokes faster than ever before, breaths deepening. And as he reaches his climax, the quietest of moans escape his lips, followed by your name. It’s so soft on his tongue, it feels uncouth. The trail of white fluid follows, spurts out of his cock and onto his stomach. He pants, quick to milk every ounce of himself with the squeeze of his palm around the edge of his head and then he’s reaching for his water bottle, taking a cool swig of the liquid.

He has to shower now, there’s no way he could sleep like this.

As you unhook the last of your sheets from the mattress, you quickly roll the fabric into a giant ball within your arms. You’re on your tippy-toes, hesitantly reaching for your door as you twist the knob and pull the barrier open. You look around, relieved to see the hallway engulfed in complete darkness. Jungkook’s door is closed, no light emitting through the cracks which means he must be asleep. Gingerly, you close the door behind you and tiptoe towards the end of the hall where the laundry room is- attached to the shared washroom.

You’re quick to stuff the sheets into the washer, loading the detergent into the cartridges and powering on the machine. The room’s lights aren’t even on, you’re too lazy to find them. Besides, the stark moonlight and LED of the washing machine are plenty of light enough. When you’ve set the machine to its cycle, you ponder on what the hell you can do with no bedsheets to aid in your sleep and your body covered in sweat.

Even if you are hotter than before, sweatier than before, slumber takes a toll on your body. Your head feels weighted, drowsy from your hard climax. You think a shower would work best, turning to go back into your room for a change of clothes when you bump into something, rather someone.

You shriek and take cover under your raised arms, a soft glow of white light sifting through the crack of your arms as the washroom lights get flickered on. Raising your head out of the shield of your arms, you find Jungkook standing in front of you, void of a shirt and clad by only a pair of boxers.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?” You can’t help it, your eyes wander, rake him from head to toe. You can see it, the ever so light outline of a bulge, something that is definitely nowhere near a micropenis.

“I was just...about to shower. I’m sorry- I didn’t know you would be out here, I would’ve worn more clothes” His gaze is soft with worry and you’re reminded of your earlier outburst. It was quite hypocritical of yourself when you’ve just fucked yourself on a sex toy to scandalous thoughts of him. His eyes flickers to the low drone of the washer and then back to you. “You’re doing laundry?”

Your cheeks flush, your voice hitching in your throat as you promptly pull up an excuse as to why you’re doing laundry at nearly two in the morning. “I-I spilled some tea on my sheets, I have to wash them.” You hope it’s convincing enough. “I was about to shower too.”

Jungkook regards you carefully, expecting a scolding for even asking but it never comes. You’re flustered and painted a shade of red he is familiar with. He’s only familiar with it because he too is the same shade of red. You two had been pleasuring yourselves, separately yet simultaneously. The memory almost brings a fresh wave of lust.

“Why are you showering at-” you glance at the time on your phone, “-one o’clock at night?” Jungkook doesn’t expect this question from you. You had never been interested in anything he did other than if it was something bothersome to scold over. He clears his throat and uses his slender fingers to push his hair back. You reckon he’ll need a haircut soon.

“I was exercising in my room.” Technically, masturbation was a certain form of exercise…  

The air is stiff, you feel it. It crosses both of your minds, had you heard one another? Was it obvious? You shift on the balls of your feet, teeth crashing down on your bottom lip. “Well, who’s gonna shower first?” You eye his practically unclad figure. It’s impossible to not take notice of the Adonis belt that leads your vision straight to his casual bulge. You look away. “Technically I was here first.”

Jungkook chuckles and pokes the inside of his cheek with a tongue. “Technically this is your house too, right?”

Your head drops to the ground, a shameful pout crossing over your features. Perhaps you were too harsh earlier, but you may just be feeling this way from the endorphins.

You go against the wish for a shower, it’s the least you can do. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight, just letting you know. Please don’t make food at some obscure hour of the night or I will kill you.” With that, you push past him, your shoulder knocking against his arm as you head towards the living room.

To Jungkook, there’s something so beguiling about your clear disdain for him. He merely observes you from where he stands, feeling another rush of blood make way to his cock. How could you so ignorantly disregard that you had just been touching yourself? Did you really not know he could hear you? It baffles him, leaves him with another hard-on as he turns away, closing the washroom door behind him before he’s turning on the shower.

Today, you’ve had a shitty day.

Kim Taehyung has put in his two weeks' notice. He’s quitting this job to move halfway across the world and live with his girlfriend abroad and your boss had informed you one of your very own clients have committed tax fraud, costing your firm thousands. Along with this, you’ve spilled coffee over your white button-up and the hair tie holding your crisp bun up had snapped to unleash your unbrushed, unwashed owl’s nest.

When you walk into the apartment, you almost don’t want to look at your reflection in the mirror. It was strategically placed in the foyer by Seokjin, his scientific reasoning behind it being so he could start a positive day by looking at himself one last time before leaving the house. This logic seems like bullshit to you now. Your hair is a lion’s mane, your black bra visible against the translucent, chestnut coffee stain on your chest and your face is shiny from the amount of sweat you’ve had building up throughout the day from this sweltering heat.

Kicking off your heels, you take notice that Jungkook’s Pumas don’t take their usual occupancy on the shoe rack. This means he’s not home and this means, he wouldn’t be seeing you in this state. Relief floods over you.

Somewhere prior to the halfway point of Jungkook’s stay, your animosity for his presence seems to have expired ever so slightly. Perhaps it had to do with your newfound liking towards him from your late-night fantasies, or maybe it was because he had actually been putting more effort into working around the house as of late.

You barely see him now, and when you do, he’s usually made your food along with his own or he’s left you sticky notes telling you he’s taken out the garbage for you or cleaned the washroom. It has warmed your rigid heart but only to an extended degree.

Carding your fingers through your hair, you tame as much of it as you can before you’re unbuttoning your dress shirt and letting the air dry it out. Your bra feels slick against your skin, the mixture of coffee and sweat too unbearable. You unclip it from behind and toss it onto the bar stool by the kitchen island.

After opening the fridge for a can of iced tea, you walk over to the pantry for a snack to accompany the icy, perspiring drink. But before you can make it, you suddenly take notice of it, the twinkling mound of silverware against the sunlight seeping through the windowpane. You look down at the small pile of unwashed cutlery in the stainless steel sink, an inferno flickering in your chest.  

The feeling crawls back, the feeling of wanting to reinforce your disapproval of him. It’s an emotional memory, screaming at you to go back to your familiar disdain, to a more comfortable habit. Or maybe it’s your horrible day, everything bad that’s happened leading up to this breakdown. You feel like an overly emotional pregnant lady, getting fired up over unwashed spoons and forks but you can’t push it down. You’re seeing red.

A click is heard from the bathroom down the hall, followed by the tune of a cheerful whistle. You wrap the open ends of your shirt around your chest, crossing your arms as you stand in the kitchen and await the figure’s emergence from the shadowy refuge of the hallway. Jungkook now appears at the mouth of the hall, one arm rubbing a small towel against his wet hair and the other clutching the towel hanging off his hips. Upon seeing you, his whistle abruptly drops.

“Hey,” he begins nervously. “I didn’t know you’d be home—”

The words come out of you like rapid-fire, all “good deeds” he’s ever done as a roommate escaping through the vents. “You…” You begin, and he winces. “Do you see this?” You point to the sink. “How fucking hard is it to wash your own forks and spoons? Fuck, I’m so tired of picking up after you!”

You’re really unable to stop yourself, weeks of pent-up frustrations just now unleashing, lashing against the boy with such vigor, you can see a gulp send his Adam's apple to a bob. “For the record, if you’re going to smoke, do it the absolute farthest away from the apartment- I cannot stand the scent of fake strawberries and watermelon anymore.” Your arm motions towards the hallway, your foot stomping with it. Jungkook’s gaze very briefly strays to your shirt that unravels, just barely covering your breasts. Were you not wearing a bra?

“For every shower you take after the initial one, you have to set aside two dollars extra towards the water bill and for the love of all things holy, please start eating dinner at a reasonable time- you make it impossible to like you when I’m forced to wake up at two in the morning almost every single night.” With one push off the counter, you’re off towards the hallway to your bedroom, the heat of Jungkook’s stare burning into the back of your skull as you pass by him.

Jungkook sighs.

“I try, you know.” His quiet words halt you in your steps. “I knew you never liked me but I never knew why...that much was always a mystery. It never stopped me from trying to be the best damn roommate you’re ever going to have.” You twist around, taking in his stance. Now his arms are crossed, the towel once on his head now draped over his arm. “And yet you still hate me.”

You’re disarmed, mouth suddenly dry as you take in his words. Jungkook continues. “I...I just don’t get it- and I have to admit it’s a little disheartening,” He takes an idle step forward. “I don’t know what to expect from you- one moment you’re scolding me and the next…” His eyes trail to the exposed delve between your breasts, carefully covered underneath your unbuttoned shirt. You coil into yourself, wrapping your shirt over your chest again as you shift your gaze to the marks of ink blossomed over his skin. “And the next you’re staring at me.” Steadily dragging his gaze back up towards your eyes, he smirks and speaks again. “Kind of like you’re staring right now.”

If there’s one thing you hate the most, it’s being called out. Your pride is wounded and you rise to the challenge, huffing a bemused breath. You shoot back with faux scorn. “I’m only staring because you’re practically naked in front of me. Have you no decency in the presence of a woman?” This makes Jungkook cock an eyebrow, and he finds himself closing more distance between the two of you.

He laughs, mirthless but nonetheless amused by your rebuke. “Usually in the presence of a woman like you, decency is the last thing on my mind.” Leisurely, you’re losing each other in one another’s gaze.

You scoff. “Like me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy, you and I both know you’re not near as good as you think you are.”

This statement catches you off guard, wholeheartedly. Your breath hitches in your throat as your eyes flicker between the towel that’s barely clinging around his waist to his eyes that have seemingly darkened, ablaze with something akin to salacity. Jungkook licks his lips, the length of his damp hair sending a tiny trickle of water down the side of his face. “And that doesn’t even count all the weird shit I’ve heard in this house.” Now you’re the one gulping, frozen in place as he takes another step closer. “You moan in your sleep, you moan when you touch yourself at night...” Your eyes widen in horror, he had heard you that night and possibly every night after that.

“I’ll never forget what your friend said on the phone, you know. With lips like that…you make it impossible to forget anything about you.”

Shit.

He’s gotten closer, much closer. With anyone else, the lack of distance between you would be nothing short of uncomfortable and unwanted, but you find yourself pulled towards him. The closing of the gap between you is mutual, and before you have a chance to shoot back a reply, his lips are hovering above yours. “Pretty lips that make pretty noises.” And then, his mouth is on yours.

Your knees nearly give out.

Before anything else, you’re filled with shock, an invasive shock. How could he be doing this?

He… He’s…he’s actually a pretty good kisser. You’re swept away, his arms cocooning around you. His lips pillow against your own, his tongue the taste of mint.

Jungkook is damp from his shower, his skin slick and cool under your touch as you slide your arms around his neck. This motion beckons you closer, pushing your lips harder against his. He walks you backwards and you follow suit, mouths remaining on one another as your back hits the wall right next to your bedroom door. There is absolutely no turning back now.

His hands are sliding down your body, feeling every curve of your body underneath his palms as he squeezes and kneads until he’s reached your ass. You moan into his mouth when he grabs handfuls of your bottom, a calculated grip that he uses to push your pelvic bone against his growing erection. This invites his tongue into your parted mouth, taking in the taste of yours into his own. They cushion around each other, a synchronous valse that only grows the moisture in between your legs. You feel his want for you build against your stomach, the thickness that lays just beyond his towel.

Jungkook’s teeth find the plump of your bottom lip, a gentle gnaw at the flesh before he’s tugging at it. The whimper you let out only elicits a growl to emit from his chest, the hands on your ass now sliding up your sides until they’re cupping your face. It’s then that his clear want for you becomes evident, a taut prominence poking against your stomach.

“M’Jungkook…” You whimper into his mouth, his right hand moving from your cheek to the base of your neck. You gasp as his palm pushes against your sternum, the fingers wrapped around your neck tightening in the slightest as you’re pushed farther against up against the wall. Jungkook hums in response, his lips relentless against your own.

His mouth works in precise vigour against your own. It’s as if he has been starved of this moment for too long, days, weeks of holding himself back. You can’t stop yourself either, not quite being able to comprehend the happenings of this exact moment. Nights of pleasuring yourself to the thought of your roommate and here you two are, your cunt seemingly progressing into an ocean of slick and his cock ready to be smothered in it.

Jungkook pulls away, and when you get a chance to look at him, his cheeks are powdered in a shade of rose, his lips marginally swollen from your heated kissing and his eyes ablaze with a craving you can’t even describe. “Not so smart with that mouth now, are you?”

You swallow thickly, words failing you. Your eyes glance towards the roses stoic on his neck. Oh, how you’d like to lick over them. The situation is beyond words, and you reckon if it hadn’t been, that actions still would fare far better than words.

Jungkook drops to his knees in front of you and fiercely grabs your hips. You inhale sharply, head dropping as your fingers instinctively grasp for purchase against his impossibly broad shoulders. They’re marked with feathers that lead down his biceps in the shape of wings. You can’t help but dig in, your nails leaving thin red crescents slashing across the ink as your back rests against the wall.

“You think you can get away moaning my name every night?” He groans, alternating between breaths and kisses around your pelvis, slowly moving past your navel. His fingers hook around the belt loops in your pants, his free hand eagerly tugging down your zipper. With precision, he pulls your pants down until you’re clad in only your underwear. Thank God, you chose today of all days to wear a thong. The baby pink silk, smooth underneath his fingertips. Jungkook looks up at you wishfully, his doe eyes radiating a boyish innocence that contradicts the ink littering his skin. But then he speaks, his voice a soft growl.

“I hope you taste as delicious as you look,” he says, not doubting for a second that you won’t as he bites the elastic of your thong. You are breathless; it’s hard not to be when Eros himself is between your legs, yearning for a taste of your dripping sex.

Your breath catches in your throat, Jungkook’s thumb skimming down your pubic bone to where you want, need it the most. You shiver as he circles against your clit through the cloth, a purposeful pressure that has you tightening your grip on his shoulders. He can feel the moisture against the fabric, your arousal clinging against the material.

“I didn’t even have to touch you and you’re already this wet for me, baby?” He licks his lips, fingers running up and down your thighs. The nickname baby stays with you, lingers and only soaks you further. You roll your head back against the wall, letting his fleeting fingers latch around the band of your thong before you feel them being tugged down your legs.

It’s almost instinctive for you to want to cross your leg over the other, to keep Jungkook from seeing you so bare and needy for him. But of course, Jungkook doesn’t let this happen. He kisses your right hip bone before tracing a bold lick diagonally down to your pelvis. Your fingers rub against his shoulders, one hand gliding up the back of his head to comb through the mass of his damp dark curls.

Jungkook hikes one of your legs over his shoulder, letting the balm of your foot rest against the delve of his back as he spreads you above him. A broad hand pushes your hip back against the wall, the one leg you’re balanced on steady underneath his aiding grip. He uses his free hand to run his second and third digit up and down your wet folds. You shiver.

He looks up at you once more. This time, a lopsided smug grin adorns his face as he beams you a set of perfect teeth, the familiar indents of his dimples marking against his lower cheeks. “I’m going to make you come so hard.” You’re moaning in response to this, leg wavering as you feel the slide of Jungkook’s forefinger push into you. He hums in appreciation, your tightness inviting the chafe of his finger. He places a chaste kiss just above your pubic bone as he begins a slow rhythmic pump of his finger.

“Fuck,” you breath out, the ridges of his calloused digit filling you far greater than your own ever has. You can’t even begin to imagine how his dick will feel, your fingers laced into his hair tightening their hold as well.

It’s when you feel the point of Jungkook’s deft tongue stroke against your clit that you cry out, his hand gripping your hip harder against the wall as he feels you waver above him. Your eyes flutter to a close, letting him have his way with you against his tongue. He uses it mercilessly, flicks pointed and dexterous against your clit as his finger pushes in and out of your tight heat. “Oh my god, Jungkook.” He inserts another finger and you nearly lose yourself.

Your eyes are rolled back, your hips involuntarily jerking away from Jungkook’s grip as they push forward in search of more of his mouth. You feel it bubbling inside you, each stroke of his fingers and each swirl of his tongue making it impossible for you to focus on anything else but this feeling. He laps around your clit, strict and continuous. When you open your eyes to look down, you see his gorgeous hair enveloped in the thread of your fingers. You’ve never been eaten out against a wall like this and it only adds more to your impending undoing.

Jungkook’s digits move quicker now, with each pump comes a curl that elicits the neediest of whimpers to fall past your lips. He feels his cock twitch with every sound you make, a melodic hymn to his ears. He alternates between sharp flicks and taking the whole of your clit with his mouth in a gentle siphon. This time there is no barrier of a wall between the two of you, this time he can hear you as vividly as he hears the tits chirp outside his window every morning and this time, you are not using a vibrator on yourself, he’s fucking you with his tongue.

He can feel you tightening against his fingers, your walls clenching unimaginably tight around him with every stroke. You are close, so very close and the feel of his relentless tongue lapping around your clit along with his slender fingers has you seeing nothing but the ceiling above you. Jungkook picks up the pace of his tongue as well, his head moving in vigour as he fervently pushes the wet muscle against your bead.

He senses it coming before you do, his tongue and fingers in a violent rhythm. You jerk above him, your hold on his hair impossibly tight as you let yourself go, crying out his name from your orgasm. He feels your squirt spray out of you, it coats his mouth and chin, sprinkling even to his chest as you shake above him. Jungkook does not stop, digits pumping even faster, tongue continuing their assault.

You chant his name as you writhe underneath his grasp. The sensation becomes too much within seconds of your orgasm but somehow his persistence makes it feel as if you can come all over again.

“J-jungkook p-please,” you beg, your fingers unraveling from his hair and tightening onto his shoulders as you try to push him away. He follows suit, unlatching his mouth from your heat before languidly rising to his feet.

When you look at him, his lips are swollen and painted in your clear arousal, your squirt coating down the cleft of his chin, streaming his neck and sprinkled across his chest. It matches his damp hair, uniform with the wetness of his previous shower.

“You...just...squirted. All over me.” You can’t quite tell if this statement holds aversion at first. Truth be told, you’ve never squirted from a man’s tongue against you.

Jungkook steps closer. “Do you know how fucking hot that was?” You don’t know, but Jungkook is taking your hand into his and placing it over it his very hard bulge. You gasp at the feel underneath your palms, unyielding to your touch. It’s far greater of a bulge than you’ve ever felt before.

You smell yourself on him, a faint fragrance that you taste when Jungkook leans forward to kiss you with greed. His mouth his sticky, kisses lingering against your lips. When he pulls away, his fingers glide over the knot that holds his towel up. You watch him, eagerly as he pulls at the twist, letting the towel to fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

“Oh my god,” you catch yourself saying out loud.

Jungkook is big. Larger, thicker than you could have ever imagined. An erect serpentine that lays firmly in his hand as he takes the base of his cock in his palm, you can’t look away. You gulp, eyes flickering between his daunting length and his growing smirk. Your mouth suddenly feels parched, a tentative tongue poking through the seams of your lips to swipe over your lips. Something about him not using the towel to directly wipe off your squirt makes your stomach flip with somersaults, so aroused by the idea of him wearing your ograsm on him with pride.

Jungkook twirls his forefinger in the air. “Turn around,” he commands and you oblige, twisting your body as you lay the flat of your palms against the cool wall. Jungkook pulls at your hips, mumbling words of profanities as your ass grinds against his thick erection. He already feels so full against your heat.

Kicking your legs open and apart, his feet stand in between yours, making it impossible for you to close them. He places a kiss against your shoulder, your forehead rested flush to the wall as a tender hand kneads at the cheek of your ass. He spanks it once, the echo of both the slap and your yelp of surprise travelling down the hall.

Hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, his damp hair tickles your neck as he whispers. “Think you can take it, baby?”

“Y-yes.” Your answer is short and breathless, hips instinctively grinding against him for further proof of your want. This earns you another spank and Jungkook is taking the base of his cock in one hand, spreading your cheeks with his free hand as he lines up to your cunt.

He nudges past your folds with his head, speaking in a low growl. “Good girl. Now let’s hear you scream.” He pushes in.

The stretch of his tip pressing into you tingles with a sizzling burn, the pressure that follows has your fingers curling against the wall and an arm reaching back to grasp onto Jungkook’s hip.

He takes your offering hand, interlocking your fingers together as he pushes another inch into you before pulling back out. He lets you adjust, your mixed moans echoing throughout the hallway as he juts his head forward to fill you once again.

His girth pinches against your walls, deliciously so and Jungkook pauses every couple of moments to let you feel every inch fill you until he’s reached the hilt.

He lets your hand go and you bring it back to press against the wall in aid of holding you up. “That’s it, baby...take every inch of it.” His voice is low, husky, something so carnally divine in the clip of his syllables that it has you rolling your head back. “You’re doing so fucking good. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes,” you say as you exhale shakily.

He rolls out of you, his name just on the edge of your tongue before he’s thrusting forward to have it spill out of your mouth. The velvet smooth feel of Jungkook’s cock mixing with your slick arousal makes the pinching sensation come to an ease. He’s swearing behind you, alternating between muttered profanities and guttural moans.

“So. Fucking. Tight. You feel so good, baby, taking me so well.” His fingers are firmly grasping onto your hips, his thrusts now beginning a steady rhythm as he steadily fucks you against the wall. Jungkook’s girth knocks the breath out of you, a full pressure that fills your tight cunt so satisfyingly, you almost lose yourself a second time within minutes from your first orgasm.

Jungkook is panting behind you, fingers surely leaving bruises against your skin as he speeds his hips to pound into you. He loosens his grip, three of his digits tracing a line down your spine before cutting around your waist and hovering above your clit. “Come again for me, baby. One more time, squirt for me.” It’s with these words that you decide, you don’t want to squirt on the floor once more, you want to squirt on him, on top of him.

“W-wait.” You reach your arm back, pressing the flat of your hand to his hip in a gesture to stop. He stills immediately.

“Did I hurt you?” The worry in his voice only causes you to release a breathless laugh, shaking your head no in reassurance.

“I want to ride you.” How could Jungkook ever say no to that? Without a beat of hesitance, he slides out of you, taking his cock in his hand before lightly tapping the head against each of your cheeks. Gripping your waist, he spins you to face him, a dimpled smile greeting you as you reach his gaze.

“Mm, is that so?” He asks and you nod, returning his smile. The dim glow of sunlight pouring into the hallway allows you to see the glowy sheen of his sweat and your arousal glimmer against his face and chest, enhancing his tattoos. The dampness of his curls have dried but a new layer of perspiration forms a film over his forehead.

You take Jungkook’s hand in yours, leaning forward to place a chase kiss on his lips before you’re leading him into your bedroom. You walk him backwards, your hands on his shoulders and his eyes focused nowhere but on yours. It’s when the back of his knees knock against the edge of your bed that he’s forced to have a seat.

He expects you to straddle him, you see it in the glimmer of his doe eyes but instead, you drop to your knees in front of him, arms separating his inked thighs apart. This takes Jungkook by surprise, he cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow raising in question.

You hands glide up and down his legs, a grin stretching across your face as you lean forward and place a gentle peck to the base of his thick cock. Jungkook hums in satisfaction, eyes holding a challenge as he watches you with great concentration.

The pink of his head looks all too inviting as you take his cock in your hands. As you do so, Jungkook’s hands roam up your arms before they’re resting on each of your shoulders. He benignly grips at the tense muscles of your shoulders, thumbs moving in circles over your skin. “You’re tense.” He vocalizes.

“You’re fucking huge.” You hit back, eyes wide and mouth salivating at the heaviness in your grasp. It’s tacky, coated in you as you swipe a thumb over the head and Jungkook hisses above you. When you look up at him, his dark eyes are speared to your movements, teeth gritted. You begin moving your hands up and down his length.

“You can take it in your mouth, can’t you?” The tone in his voice depicts a challenge and your ears nearly perk in interest. Of course you can take him in your mouth. You lean forward, Jungkook’s broad hands leaving the expanse of your shoulders to slide up the sides of your head. His fingers comb your hair back, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail. The movement flexes the muscles on his inked biceps and you have to admit to yourself that he looks so fucking good.

Jungkook is all too eager as he watches you, the flat of your tongue sticking out to lick around the rim of his head. He chokes back a groan, grip on your hair tightening. You stretch your mouth as wide as you can, a discomfort to your movement as you engulf the whole of his head with your tongue. Jungkook inhales a sharp breath, fingers threaded into your hair as he eases you down to take more of him.

You wrap your lips around the velvet tip, beginning a slow suction. “Fuck,” Jungkook mumbles from above you, shifting on the mattress, watching you. “Open wider, baby.” You do as asked, jaw already sore from the girth of his head alone. He pushes his hips off the mattress in the slightest, grip on your hair firm as he thrusts more of himself into your mouth.

You’re careful not to let your teeth graze over the skin of his cock, your fingers tightening around his length before you start to twist your wrists and continue sucking. Jungkook is careful to be gentle with you, very tenderly urging his cock to fill more of your mouth. It shocks you when you feel the blunt of his head hit the cap of your airway, eliciting a gag.

Jungkook pulls out a millimeter before he’s pushing back in, teeth gritted and eyes focused. Your mouth looks so pretty stuffed with his cock; it’s almost as pretty as your cunt taking him to the hilt.

Another gag rumbles out of you and vibrates against his member, this time, Jungkook being the one to moan. His hips stutter in shallow thrusts into your mouth and you feel the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision.

The sounds of your gagging bounces off the walls of your bedroom, followed by the guttural moans of Jungkook as he fucks your mouth. Each thrust of his hips causes the head of his cock to push past your airway.

You release your hold around his length, fingers thickly coated in your own saliva as you find purchase of the flesh of his thighs. You let him have his way with you, your mouth stretched as wide as you can physically make it and a single thread of a tear rolling down your cheek. You look up through the flutters of your eyelashes, pleased to see the Adam’s apple in Jungkook’s throat bob up and down while his head is thrown back in pleasure.

The sudden pull of his cock from your mouth comes with a light ‘pop’ followed by you gasping for air. Using his hold on your hair, he jerks your hair back so you’re forced to look up at him. He hungrily latches his lips onto yours, sloppy and wet with a relentless tongue that intrudes your mouth.

You slide your hands over his thighs, towards the ridges of muscles on his abdomen as he helps you rise to your feet. Your right palm travels up his chest, your other arm circling around Jungkook’s neck as you let him grab a handful of your ass. With a persuasive lift, he places you on his lap, your legs wrapping around his torso as his mouth remains on yours.

“M’let me ride m’you,” you gasp in between kisses, Jungkook’s toned arms looping around your waist as he shuffles closer to the edge of the mattress.

“Yeah?” He moves from your mouth to the edge of your jaw.

“Please.” Jungkook loosens his grip around your waist, letting you rest the front of your calves on either side of him. You situate yourself, raising your hips as your hand finds his still, very erect length to line against your core.

“Look at you so needy for my cock, don’t hate me so much anymore?” The smugness in his tone only grants him a glare from you, a chuckle following his tease. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in need of you too.” You have noticed, his massive cock hasn’t wavered in want in the slightest since he first kissed you.

You huff a breath. “I never hated you.” Rubbing his head a few times over your sex, you finally sink down onto it, your cunt eagerly taking in his head. You gasp at the feel of this new position, his length gliding in much smoother with your previous practice. “You just need to start washing your fucking dish- ah!” You cry out, hands fumbling to grasp at his shoulders as Jungkook juts his hips up, slamming into you. His girth stretches your walls once again and he feels so fucking delicious in you like this. Quite frankly, you’re unsure if you’ll be able to go back to an average sized penis ever again.

“Mm, I should keep pissing you off if it means I get to shut you up like this.” His voice hitches at the last word as you pick your hips up and ram yourself back down onto his cock. You both moan at this, your arms once again looping around Jungkook’s neck as his hands firmly grip your hips in guidance.

Your teeth clash as you kiss him with each bounce of your hips, the position more so letting you gently rock over his cock. Your clit rubs against his skin with each roll of your hips, making sure you alternate between circling your hips and bouncing on his cock. Jungkook is losing himself, you know this because he holds you tightly, firmly as he lets you take control. You ride him hard and slow, the pre crescendo to his coming end.

“Come for me, Jungkook,” You moan against the shell of his ear, legs losing stamina as you try to keep a rhythmic pace. But Jungkook doesn’t want to finish just yet, he wants you to come again too.

You yelp as he slides his hands under your ass, lifting you off him before he’s throwing you onto the mattress so you’re on your back. He stands up, above you at the edge of your bed, taking your knees in the crevice of his elbows before yanking you towards him.

“Where is it?” He gruffs, fingers gripping your waist.

“What?”

“Your vibrator, where is it?” If you weren’t flushed already from Jungkook’s cock, you’d be blushing at his knowledge that you even had one. You stretch your arm above you, fingers reaching underneath a pillow where you usually keep it hidden. Grasping the device in hand, you bring it out, idly waving it in front of the ink-skinned boy. He grins, the youthful boy-like glint returning in the doe of his eyes as he releases your leg from the arm that extends to retrieve it from you.

Inspecting the controls, he finds the power button, clicking it on. A low buzz fills the room. the words that follow leaving you breathless again.

“Ah...now there’s the noise I like to hear every night.” Clicking it back off, Jungkook places it carefully next you before hooking your leg back around his elbow, hoisting your hips up. You watch with eager eyes as he pokes his tongue past his lips, letting a string of saliva drizzle carefully over his cock. He smooths the slick over his cock, letting it coat the entirety of his length before he’s guiding his head against your opening.

He gently slaps his head against your clit before rubbing against it, letting your arousal build once more. You shift your hips in impatience, fingers gripping tightly against your sheets. Jungkook leans down towards your mouth, claiming your lips once more, hard and deep. He tastes of sweat and your arousal, a tinge of salt that you lick away. When he pulls away, he’s pushing his cock into you again.

The curve of his dick hits differently with this position, now he has more control with hitting just the right spots. He’s slow at first, frustrating slow as if he’s testing each stroke of his hips to see how you react. When he’s surging forward until he’s got an inch remaining, you’re crying out loud.

“Here?” He asks and you nod profusely, words unable to form on your tongue. Jungkook pushes even deeper, another cry escaping your lungs at the new fullness. Your grip around your sheets grow tighter, teeth harshly biting down on your lip as he begins steady rock in and out of you.

You’ve never been filled so well like this, his cock hitting every surface area of your inner walls as he stretches you delectably with each roll of his hips. He fucks into you, hard and deep, changing from circling his hips to pistoning into you with no mercy. He talks filth into the air, profanities and moans chased by the sounds of skin slapping as he relentlessly plummets into you.

He can feel you about to come, the pressure of your clenched walls tightening around him to un unprecedented degree. With each thrust, your cunt only eagerly invites him back in, needy for his spurts of cum. This is when Jungkook grabs the vibrator he placed beside you, thumb quick to power the device on. You yelp and mewl as he places the silicone tip against your clit, the vibration ringing through both of you. The sensation is overwhelming, the girth of his cock mixed with the jolts of your stimulated clit leave you near screaming his name. You shake underneath him, legs quivering as you feel the rise of your orgasm build through your entire body.

“You can squirt again, baby. I know you can. I know you want to.” Your body jerks and still as the combination of one more thrust and the vibe hit you exactly where you need it to, to come undone. Jungkook doesn’t fight it, the pressure of your squirt pushing his cock out of your tightness. “That’s it, darling, so fucking hot.” He keeps the vibrator on you and you whimper, releasing the clutch of the sheets as you flail your arms towards the vibrator in an attempt to push it away from you. Jungkook does not budge.

“P-please, fuck, Jungkook...it’s too much, please.” He does not stop, watching you with intent as your body shakes underneath his control of the vibrator. He knows you can come again.

“One more time.” Your legs are desperately trying to clamp shut but Jungkook expertly holds your legs apart with his torso as he continues assaulting your clit with the silicone. It buzzes against you, rings through your entire body and within minutes you’re coming all over again. It’s so intense, you nearly black out, your voice clamouring to a scream of Jungkook’s name.

He turns it off and throws it somewhere on the mattress before he’s sliding into you with ease. He fucks your squirt back into you with a push of his cock.

This time, Jungkook wastes no time. This time, he drills into you, clamping your legs together as he pushes them forward until your knees hit your chest. This position allows him to go deeper, watching your cunt swallow every inch of his cock with greed along with every thrust of his hips. He feels his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Each snap of his hips become sloppier, his laboured breathing sporadic as his fingers dig harshly into your calves.

“Where do you want me to come?” He rasps, pulling your legs apart once more.

“I-inside me, please.” Your words elicit a mumbled fuck from him followed by a groan. You watch him through lidded eyes, your head thick and heavy from your plentiful of orgasms. Jungkook looks like the God of sex himself above you, sweat dribbling down his forehead, his dark long waves spilling over his eyes, his inked chest glistening and his muscles flexing with every grind of his hips into you. He is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “Come, Jungkook,” you coo, egging him to come undone. “Come inside me.”

With the last phrase, his hips stutter and still before he’s gasping for a breath as he spills himself into you. He shouts your name, voice getting caught in his throat. He steadily moves again, milking every last drop of himself inside of you as your walls achingly aid him.

As he comes to a stop, the room is filled with nothing but the sounds of your mixed heavy panting. Jungkook leans forward, pressing a heavy kiss against your lips before he’s pulling away from your mouth and away from your cunt. He watches, mesmerized as his cum dribbles out of you. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, your tight cunt filled to the brim with his seed.

“Fuck,” he pants, reaching his arm out to help you sit up. You roll your head forward into your palms, the rush of dopamine pounding into your skull with a massive headache. “You okay?” He asks and you nod your head, face still encompassed by your hands.

“You...should piss me off more often.” Jungkook chuckles at this. When you look up from your hands, his wavy locks have a newfound dampness, beads of sweat encompassing his tattooed chest. He’s grinning, a lopsided grin that leaves you with a warm feeling pounding in your chest. 

Jungkook offers you a hand, guiding you off the bed. You take it, letting him pick you up to your feet with the strength of his biceps. 

“Yeah, yeah I should.” You’re both walking out your bedroom and towards the shower.

Seokjin wears nothing but a grimace at the kitchen island as he watches you and Jungkook coo at each other. He’s just returned from his trip abroad, hands crossed over his chest as he observes the blasphemy before his eyes. Jungkook is by the stove, flipping the last of Seokjin’s steak and you’re beside him preparing a salad on the counter.

“Disgusting.” Seokjin scowls. “I leave for three months and this happens?” He scoffs at the thought of the two of you cooking him steak for dinner, as if it would break the bearer of this terrible, awful news. You two are now dating. His best friend and his roommate- to Seokjin, it’s an ultimate betrayal.

You sigh and roll your eyes, setting your freshly made salad in front of him as Jungkook brings over a sizzling pan of steak. He wears a grin on his face, a grin that matches yours before you’re leaning on your tiptoes to kiss against the indented dimple against his lower cheek. Seokjin nearly gags at this.

He truly thought he’d be rid of you as soon as this lease had ended but here you were, snogging who he thought to be his best friend. He thinks he’ll have to burn his mattress too.

“Great,” he says, deadpan, picking up his knife and fork. “I’m stuck with you forever now.” With the greatest of fake enthusiasm, he musters a disingenuous smile and angrily digs into his steak.

He hates that it’s delicious. 

all rights reserved © jeongi

a/n: HEWWOOOO. how u feeling!? 🥴i REALLY!!! did not expect this fic to be so long holy shit im so sorry, i went out of control!!!! this was very loosely based off real-life events that were then fuelled by jungkook’s lotte concert look. and badda bing, badda boom, a 13k fic of pure smut is born and i am wholly unashamed of myself. i really hope you enjoyed reading this filth, it was very fun for me to write!!! please let me know what you think and as always, thank you for reading and i love youuuu 💞

[elleonmybeloved]

The weather on the day of the competition was perfect, nary a cloud in the sky and a warm fresh smelling breeze blew throughout the city of Mondstadt. Everybody was gathered around the archon statue, in front of which a raised wooden platform has been placed as a makeshift stage. The person in charge of the event is just a person who owns an instrument shop in the city, but the real weight behind regulating the event is the group of knights of Favonius that stand guard in the area and enforce safety as well as the rules of the proceedings. There’s no panel of judges. It’s the audience who chooses the winner by writing the name of the bard who gave their favorite performance and placing it inside a wooden box to be counted by the host.

“Ooh, Paimon can’t wait! When are they gonna start already?” Lumine’s floating companion gives an impatient wiggle. “Oh wait, look, here comes the host now!”

The host steps up on the stage, and after a minute the swelling chatter from the crowd dies down to a murmur.

“Greetings citizens of Mondstadt, and welcome to another battle of the bards! It is my pleasure to announce that we will be treated to fifteen performances today. Each contestant will be performing two songs, one preexisting song of their choice, and one of their own. After they have all given their performances, you, the audience, may cast your vote for whoever most greatly moved your heart with their music.” He gives a break for applause.

“May the anemo archon watch over us all! Let the contest begin!” The host steps down off the stage and the first bard takes his place.

One performance after another, the city fills with music. Some chose upbeat, joyous melodies, others slow and mellow ballads, and even some that take a jazzy tune and encourage clapping and dancing from the audience. Lumine is amused to witness what she guesses is a bard commissioned by Stanley to make a song about him and his famous adventures.

By the end of that song, she and the crowd have already memorized the repetitive words and are joining in to shout-sing the great adventurer’s name.

“Good for him, I guess.”

“Paimon thought this was supposed to be emotionally moving music! Geez.”

“They never specified which emotion.” Lumine points out, but before Paimon can quip back, a hush falls over the crowd again as the next bard comes up.

The lanky teen in bright teal that takes the stage is surely Venti, but his prescence feels so different from what she’s used to. Lumine swallows dryly. He’s the one on stage about to perform, so why is she the one feeling nervous all of a sudden?

Venti begins with the first song- Lion Heart, the one about Venessa, the great hero of Mondstadt. The melody flows like the wind but the sound grows and flares like a fire in a grand way that makes her feel as if she herself has been transported back in time and is standing in the middle of a raging war. His voice is strong and unwavering as he effortlessly tackles difficult notes, and his lyre sounds more like the herald of a trumpet than some little church house harp.

When it’s over, the audience whistles and calls out loudly with applause. The man next to her is exclaiming that he has “-Not heard that classic song so masterfully done in decades!” And Lumine has to agree with the sentiment. He could end it right now and still be the one to go home with the prize.

“Oh wooow, who knew the tone-deaf bard could do that! And to think, Paimon didn’t believe him when he said singing was the only thing he did well.”

“Yeah.” She says, squinting at the stage. Venti is setting down his lyre and is taking... something, up to the stage. It looks a bit like a lute, but it’s curved in swirling angles and with it there’s a... straight bow? Nobody else seems puzzled by this, so she figures it’s an instrument native to Teyvat.

He gets into position and Lumine’s heart begins to pound in her chest. Here it comes!

It starts with a deep, resounding hum in a minor key, tamely going above and below the starting note of the chord. The instrument makes a beautifully layered, rich sound that supports the higher and lighter tone of his voice in such a nice way that she instantly understand why he chose to use this instead of his lyre. The melody begins mysterious, and she strains her ears to make out every word.

Venti tells the tale of a forest, ruled by a bird king, a white dove. His voice flutters like the flapping of wings.

The bird king loves his forest, but invaders keep coming in and threatening it. The kings friend, the lizard, drives off the invaders, but the venom of his attack drips to the ground and poisons the forest, causing all the plants to slowly wither and die. The bird king tries everything, but cannot cure the poison, and resigns himself to die with his beloved forest instead of abandoning it, and becomes poisoned as well.

The deep thrum of the stringed instrument waxes somber.

Then, a star falls from the sky, crashing into his forest with a great flash. To the bird king’s surprise, out from the crash site flows light that purifies the poison in the forest, eventually even himself, and the great lizard. He goes to thank the star, but encounters instead a lake of tears and ash.

The bird king asks the fallen star why it laments so. The star says she has lost her ability to fly, and cannot rejoin her friends that soar the heavens. Not being able to fly sounds like the most painful fate the bird king has ever heard, and his heart is moved to help the fallen star.

Lumine recognizes a theme that resembles her song in this part, and then the instrument and Venti’s voice swirl up to a new sound.

The bird king plucks a feather from his own wing, and plants it in the now purified ground. A flower grows, and from it, he plucks a fruit.

He offers the fruit to the fallen star, telling her it is a magical fruit that can restore her power to fly, but it will cause her much pain. She eats the fruit, and is engulfed in a great flame. From the ashes of the fire, she rises, no longer a fallen star, but a phoenix.

The music soars to a climax, shifting from a minor to major key in the last few notes. Then it’s over, and Venti lowers the instrument to take a bow.

The crowd is silent a moment before erupting into applause. Lumine doesn’t know how to feel. She can’t even begin to unpack the meaning of what she just experienced.

Another bard, the next contestant replaces Venti on the stage. Lumine somehow tunes back into the present.

“-and so before I begin my performance I have something to say.” The woman on stage couldn’t be much older than Lumine. There’s something familiar about her. “Unfortunately the song I was about to play has already been played.”

A confused murmur passes through the crowd.

“I got the idea to write a song about a magic forest after being rescued by some adventurers in the Whispering Woods. I worked really ha-“ Her voice breaks on the word. “Worked really hard on it and I was so excited to show it you all today. But I can’t, because he,”

She is lifting a finger at Venti. “Stole my song.”

The host steps forward with an uneasy expression. “That’s quite the accusation. Do you have any proof, Miss...?

“-Solia. Of course I do.” She says, and hands him her notebook. “Here’s where I wrote it. You can even see the drawing I made of the bird who inspired the Bird King.”

“This... does resemble the white cranes in the Whispering Wood.” He admits. Gasps and whispers come from the crowd. Somebody says they always knew Venti was a thief and several others hear that and murmur to each other.

Lumine cannot believe her ears. She can’t see Venti’s expression from here, and she pushes through the crowd to get closer.

“Is what she is saying true, young man? Please be honest.”

Lumine pushes through to the front just as Venti answers him.

“Uheheh, no. If this is meant to be a jest, I’m afraid I must protest.” He just looks really confused. “It’s not that funny.”

“Liar!” Solia cries. “It’s my song!”

Lumine realizes where she’s seen this woman before. Sitting at the base of a windmill, writing in a notebook, a week and a half ago.

“Actually, it’s my song.”

The host looks even more confused as Lumine climbs into the stage and strides over to stand in between Solia and Venti.

“And by that I mean, he wrote it for me while you sat underneath him by the windmill and copied what you heard word for word.”

“Uh, who are you?” Solia is thrown off beat by the exposure, face flushing rapidly. “His -his girlfriend?”

“Enough of this.” The host insists. One of the knights of Favonius is saying something to him. “This young lady is an honorary knight, appointed by Acting Grand Master Jean herself. Miss Solia, if you don’t intend to play your songs, please exit the stage.”

“Huh? But-“ Solia splutters through several half formed protests, but the knight steps towards her and she raises her hands. “I-I’m going.”

Lumine turns to Venti. He looks dazed, like he still can’t believe what happened. “Come on Venti.” She grabs his hand and pulls him with her off stage. “Let’s go.”

They’re a block away before she stops. She is still holding his hand.

She’s at a loss for words. “I can’t believe she did that.”

“It’s okay, Lumine.” He’s already soothing her. “I’m not angry! Eheh... but wow, I should’ve been more careful. I hope it didn’t ruin the song for you.”

“No, not at all!” She shakes her head vehemently, clasping both his hands in hers now. “It was really good. I was really moved. You were so good!”

“Hehe. Thanks.” He’s looking at her grip on his hands.

Lumine realizes and drops them like she’s been burned.

Venti retrieves them and presses one against his cheek and rubs against it.

The question she was about to ask sputters out at the bold gesture.

“You’re so cute.” He croons, and tugs her closer to him. His blue eyes shine with mischief and happiness. “Wanna play a game?”

“Play a- uh yeah, okay!”

“Close your eyes. Open em and you lose~!”

The way he is petting her is very distracting. Lumine closes her eyes and hopes she doesn’t look dumb. She can feel his breath on her face. Her heart lurches in anticipation.

“...”

She cracks an eye open, wondering what’s going on.

“Hey! Come on, you didn’t even last ten seconds!” He complains. “I’m good at this but I’m not that fast.”

The long parts of her hair are in his hands, one side half braided. She realizes he is giving her the same style as him.

“Oh sorry.” She says, and closes her eyes at his pointed look. Lumine holds very still. She feels repetitive little tugs at her hair one side, then the other. Is he finished? Feels like it.

“We match.” His voice is very close.

Pressure pulls her head forward by the braids in a gentle motion. And then there’s a swell of warmth as soft lips press firm against hers and a hand presses against the small of her back.

Lumine was sufficiently fooled into not expecting it, and a chorus of butterflies rise in her stomach as Venti pulls back and kisses her again.

Elation fills her at the confirmed prospect of his feelings and her cautiously withheld affection for him breaks free. Lumine presses a hand to the back of Venti’s neck to bring their lips even closer together.

They take turns swapping sweet kisses until they are both breathless and love-drunk. Venti isn’t there to hear himself win first place.

[myelocin]

Of Baby Bottles and Buttons | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Hey so uhhhh this was supposed to be for Kags but Sarah and Dei said Kiyoomi so this one’s for you guys <3 

Synopsis: In which Bokuto decided to chug milkshakes and drive Sakusa out. Basically dad!Sakusa au where I decided to satisfy my own feelings

Characters: Mentions of MSBY, Sakusa Kiyoomi, You, Nari (daughter)

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x You

Warnings: Mentions of vomit

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

Again, this is for you Sarah & Dei!!

-

An early leave on a Friday in the middle of the season was a rare occurrence, but of course, this had to be the day Bokuto was dared by Atsumu to chug four glasses of the chocolate milkshakes Hinata bought consecutively. Bokuto well, being Bokuto, despite just eating lunch, jumped at the dare with a hearty “Hey, hey, hey!!!”

Practice began soon after and in short, the team hadn’t gotten through their second round of drills before Bokuto decided to projectile vomit all over the floor.

If Sakusa had the heart and had chosen to stay, first he would have pondered why the man, at the ripe age of twenty seven think it was a good idea to you know, do that in the first place, then second probably step away from the pile before calling the janitors. But reality is Sakusa Kiyoomi did not, so therefore, five seconds after he heard the man hurl, the vomit drop, and the man complain about his stomach, he was already halfway to the door with a hands up and his mask in place.

“Don’t even bother reasoning with me.” The rest of the team didn’t need to look in Sakusa’s direction to know he was long past gone.

-

Sakusa jumbled with his keys in his hand before eventually finding the right one and pushing it in the lock. He shot you a quick text saying that he was home early and he’d let the baby sitter go home early before pushing the front door open.

After taking off his shoes and slipping on his house slippers, he rounded the corner to the sight of Nari, your seven month old baby girl babbling away in her crib and the sitter, which happened to be teenager who lived across the street froma you and Sakusa’s home, taking the bottle out of the microwave.  

“Sakusa-san! I thought (y/n) would be home first.”

“Ah. Early finish today. You can go home, I texted (y/n). She should know I’m home by now.”

She shrugged and put the bottle back down. “She hadn’t had her milk yet and the last time I changed her diaper was just about ten minutes ago, so she’s good for a while.”

His eyes trailed to her squeezing some sanitizer into her hands from the totally not obvious giant bottle of sanitizer right by the crib and inwardly snorted, (Y/n) sure is subtle. Though then again, he’s not complaining. He’s sure this is a trait that he’s rubbed off on you.

Sakusa nodded to her departure with a subtle nod to his head before he took his mask off and grabbing the bottle, testing the temperature on his wrist, and handing it to Nari. He watched her latch on to the bottle with a soft look in his eye. After quickly changing and washing his hands, he quietly made his way around the crib and peered down at his daughter who laid on her bank, with both her hands supporting the bottle, blinking up at him. This is rare, he thought. Usually you’d be home with Nari during these months since practice became a lot more frequent.

He knew how to take care of your daughter, right down to the basics, but he still wished he was with the two of you every day. Nari was growing up so fast, too fast, and he feels as if he’ll blink through half of her childhood if he ponders on a thought one second too long.

This is what Bokuto was talking about, he mused. Bokuto, the same man who was the very reason why he was home early, had children of his own and often talked about how fast they were growing up and how soon it would be before they left the house.

Nari made a tiny noise and sat up with her half empty bottle laid in between her legs. “Papa, up!”

Sakusa leaned down and picked up Nari, grabbing her bottle along the way, as she held out her hand and motioned to it. He smirked and thought her tiny hand’s grabbing motions resembled the way you used to motion to him when you wanted that piece of bread that for some reason you knew he brought for you every morning.

By this time you had already entered the house and was just about to round the corner when you let yourself pause in your track. You looked at Sakusa sitting down on the seat you usually sat at with Nari’s back leaned against his chest as he guided the bottle back to her mouth. You decided against calling out that you were home and instead peeked from the corner of the shelf behind the corner and watched for a while.

You looked at Nari lifting her hands up and drawing random patterns in the air as your husband held the bottle for her. You were used to seeing him like this. Fatherhood suited him well, after all. He was careful and practical, but despite that he had a certain softness that you saw in moments like this. The kind where you noticed how his big hands who could smack balls in killer speeds could also seem feather light as he patted your daughter’s back to burp her.  

You felt that same softness in scattered moments in the years you had been with him, but seeing it happen in front of you, to your daughter none the less, let your heart bloom in a way you didn’t know could.

Sakusa never thought he’d have kids, but then he married you, the complete opposite of what he was so he thought things out of the norm couldn’t be all bad. He looked at Nari, who was long finished with her bottle, too preoccupied with grabbing the buttons in his shirt to notice her father staring at her and allowed himself to crack a smile.

You bit your lip, holding back a verbal response and smiled.

She caught his gaze, and giggled out a soft “Papa!” and Sakusa felt his heart swell. Not bad at all.

From your little hidden corner behind the shelf, you couldn’t hold back your giggle as you decided to let your entrance finally be acknowledged. “Omi?”

“In here!”

I know, I’ve been trying to not freak out over witnessing my husband being a literal teddy bear for our daughter.

“Has she had her bottle?” He nodded to the empty bottle next to him, “Yeah. How was work?”

“Slow day. Let me wash up and change first.” Kiyoomi nodded and shifted his attention back to Nari, who was still, mind you, this entire time, preoccupied with the buttons.

Eventually, you made your way back into the living room and took a seat next to Kiyoomi. Nari had noticed you and reached for you with her lips exaggeratedly pursed like you often did when you gave her, her bed time kisses.

You gave her a smile as she squealed out a soft “Mama!” and kissed her forehead. Kiyoomi looked at the two of you before giving your cheek a chaste kiss that you hummed in to.

You looked at the window. “It’s a nice day out, why don’t we take a walk and let her play outside?”

Kiyoomi gave you a look. “She can’t walk.”

You leaned into the couch and stared back at him, “She needs sun, Omi. And to not be around giant bottles of sanitizers so she can build up her immune system.”

He puffed his cheeks in the way he only did when he was around you. You knew this was his tell that he was losing the argument. Inwardly, you let yourself snicker, though you still replied, “Look at Bokuto-san’s kids. They’re always out playing and they’re doing fine!”

Again, he gave you the deadpan look. “Bokuto?”

You leaned against his shoulder and beamed at Nari who was watching the two of you, “Yes. He told me it’s good to let kids out and do stuff to build their immune system, Omi.”

“You’re taking advice from Bokuto? The same man who chugged four glasses of milkshakes, decided it was okay to do intense practice drills right after, and had the decency to be surprised that he vomited? You do know the reason why I’m home early right?” He snorted.

His words were harsh, but you knew he loved each member on his team like his own family which was why you replied with a kiss to the tip of his nose and a, “He’s a good father, Omi, and you know he has a point.”

You grabbed Nari and let her sit on your lap, replying to her babbles with baby talk.

Kiyoomi sat up and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, inching closer to your form as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head before leaning his cheek against it. His eyes softened and he let another smile form on his lips as Nari blinked up to you, giggling at your silly construction of words.

He sighed, a smile still on his face, “Maybe it’s not so bad that he took Atsumu’s dare since I’m home early.”

You turned your head towards him and let yourself fall in love with the soft look in his eyes once more and said, “Tadaima.”

And his reply came in the soft whisper of, “Okaeri.”

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

- 

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence. 

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

-

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

- 

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos. 

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.” 

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him. 

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment. 

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table.  He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop. 

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock. 

-

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

-

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really. 

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in. 

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit. 

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill. 

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom. 

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s 

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT”  /end ID]

-

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin. 

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left. 

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

-

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

-

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how 

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left. 

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand. 

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

- 

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

-

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID] 

[sea-and-storm]

REFLECTIONS || A Drabble..

Ghoa's eyes land upon the glowing evening horizon from the high-rising stone pedestals and bridges of Limsa Lominsa, and instantly her mind has wandered just as far from her present. 

It drifts from those near that walk Eorzean soil alongside her now, and rather ventures out to those who tread much more distant lands. It's been some time now since last she saw their faces;  for some, that time has stretched far longer than mere moons. But despite the time and the malms that separate them now, thoughts of them come to her now as if they stand right beside her. 

:readmore:

First, her mind flits to Arukh. The brother she never knew she had, but who had apparently watched over her as best he could whilst their paths did intertwine with one another. There's a twinge of regret that lies buried in her chest even now, that she had declined his offer to return to Kugane back with her once the ruins had been set to rest. Even more, that regret gives birth to guilt, that she would ever even consider tearing him away from those he so obviously cared about. 

She wonders how he's been in the time since they parted. Does he think upon her in moments of quiet reflection, just like this, and feel the same long overdue joy and relief at finally having been able to know one another? She hopes so, just the same as she hopes that those thoughts of her don't take away from his living of the present and the enjoyment of the love that surrounds him. After all, they're of the same blood, and she knows how wont she herself is to looking back to the past and asking, "But should I have…?".

And with the thought of kinship, so does her mind wander again. Their names are Ambaghai and Ibakha, and there's still a nervous eagerness that swells like a rising tide within her when she thinks of them. The parents that she never met -- not truly, anyroad -- and whom had apparently never stopped loving her even long after a much younger Ghoa had resolved that their absence proved their apathy. 

She hopes that the day will come soon when she will be able to meet them and know them. Arukh had told her once that her absence in their lives had left their once vibrant mother heartbroken and their once warm father cold and distant. She wonders now if the message that she had sent along with her brother to them had helped begin to stitch together the pieces of Ibakha's broken heart and to rekindle the lost warmth within Ambaghai. "One day when it is safe, I will return to you," she had asked Arukh to tell them. "Until then, know that you are never far from my mind nor heart."

But theirs was not the only message she had asked her kin to relay in her stead, and it is to that recipient that her train of thought wanders next. When Arukh had told her that Elder Unegen still lived, Ghoa had felt a weight lift upon her shoulders that she had nary been aware of its existence. She thinks back again now to the last words they exchanged before and feels heat rise to her cheeks. Yet it isn't anger that slights them now, but regrets. She had begged and pleaded with Unegen to intercede when the Kharlu had chosen her, and when she had refused, Ghoa had hurled vile accusations of betrayal at her -- and Unegen had remained somberly silent through the barbs and jabs that her young apprentice had inflicted upon her. 

"Tell her that I understand why now," Ghoa had asked Arukh to relay to the now elderly shaman. "That I know she was faced with an impossible choice, and I no longer blame her for the decision she made to keep the tribe safe." Much more quietly, she had added, "And tell her that I am sorry I ever doubted her love."

Her brow furrows at the recollection and she lowers her head, words of quiet prayer on her lips that have become all the more common these days. She beseeches the Storm, the Sea, the Dusk Mother and any other gods that might lend a listening ear to help those trying to bring peace to the coastlands so that she might one day soon be able to make that apology again in person as her mentor deserves.

Peace. That word again sets her thoughts to wing, and this time they land on a man for whom her emotions are yet still conflicted. Ghoa has yet to truly forgive Arasen for what he had done to her, bending her will under his thumb without her knowledge. The feeling of betrayal still coils like a venomous serpent in the pit of her gut, threatening to strike with fangs bared if she draws too close. Normally, this feeling is enough for her to recoil, to keep a safe distance from those uncomfortable thoughts. But today, she dares to venture closer.

Last she saw the Kharlu shaman, he seemed but moments from crumbling under the weight of all his careful machinations now collapsed upon his already heavy shoulders. And despite the anger that wells within her when she thinks back to what he has done to her and those she cares for, alongside it also rises a thread of well-meaning concern. She hopes that Arasen still remains upright despite that undoubtedly crushing weight;  more than that, she hopes that it might even become lighter in time if he only just allows others around him to help share his burdens. In that particular stubbornness of his, Ghoa has seen herself and she knows just the same the freeing lightness that comes when one no longer feels that they are alone in their trials.

Maybe, she thinks now, she might be closer to forgiving him for his trespasses against her than she thought she was previously.

Yet there is more forgiveness than hers than Arasen ought seek, not least among them being that of the man to whom her thoughts now inevitably turn as they often do in quiet, thoughtful moments like this. Batuhan was subjected to a far worse betrayal than she, as Arasen was anything but a brother to her. In the wake of all that had happened, the hurt and disappointment that the older Kharlu had felt was obvious to her. It hurts her heart now just as much as it did then to think upon it, and she can only hope that one day the trust and love between them might be restored. For both of their sakes. 

But more than his relationship with his ward, Ghoa worries more for the warden himself. She had left him clear instruction that he was to take care of himself in her absence. Was he? He had promised her he would, and she knows that Batu is anything but the type to break his word. Yet even if he does keep his word to her, as she is sure he will, there's always a niggling fear in the back of her mind wont to remind her of the dangerous game that he and the others play in their efforts to see peace return to the coastlands. Perhaps that is truly the hardest part of this separation, she realizes now, knowing that even the most fervent promises are not always strong enough armor against the dangers of life itself.

But she breathes deep, holding the briny sea air within her lungs for a long moment before she lets it go slowly. With it, she releases the fear and uncertainty; for the time being, at least. As she ever has to remind herself when her thoughts wander here, all she can do is have faith: in Batuhan's promise to her, in the friends and allies that surround him, and to the gods that hear her quiet prayers to keep not only him but all others near to her heart safe and happy in her absence. 

It's another of these pleas that Ghoa finds herself uttering quietly to herself. When it ceases, her silver gaze once more focuses upon the sunset-stained horizon before her rather than thousands of malms away to the Steppe beyond it. 

And she smiles in contented peace, the corners of her eyes wrinkling in mirth, as she wonders if any of those whom cross her mind are now standing at the sea's far edge thinking of her, too.