#[ aka drabbles ]

[simporado]

Currently brainrotting over Sylus. doesnt help that im ovulating.

LnDS Sylus x Reader smut hc drabble

Love the idea that he presses down onto your stomach to feel himself move inside you. His eyes get wilder every time he feels himself in you.

and adding to that is that every time he does it, you mewl and loan loader, clench harder ‘cause how could you not. You love his big, rough, veiny hands, especially when they’re on your skin. He’s definitely going to tease you about it, his words get dirtier and his groans turns to moans. It brings you closer to the edge without fail.

[mysteriesmuse]

Princess Reader x Royal Guard Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugou Katsuki’s job is literally to stand by you day and night. You promoted him to being your personal guard and now he follows you around the castle like a dog. Katsuki thought he would hate it. Thought he would have to do something to get himself fired. Something that would make you dislike him because everytime he was around you his skin definitely felt red hot and he had a slight nauseating sensation in his stomach. It’s only when steam started pouring out his ears with him clenching his teeth and palms that he was able to pinpoint that feeling. Oh yes that previous feeling was jealously and Katsuki Bakugou apparently didn’t hate you. Because he really felt jealous about this stupid suitor that was attempting to woo you. He liked you. He had a crush on the princess he was in charge of protecting with his life. Not that, that would change. But now he had a reason to get to know you more. To make the same impression that the other elite guards made with small talk that put you at ease during any shift changes.

BECOME THE BEST GUARD IN THE CASTLE: CHECK

MAKE SMALL TALK & GET IN GOOD GRACES WITH THE PRINCESS: IN PROGRESS

WOO THE PRINCESS: ??? So Katsuki really freaking struggled with small talk. Plus, I mean the guy knows practically everything about you. How is he supposed to make small talk if he can’t just ask the questions? Trick question he still can. In reality he doesn’t really have to. He’s supposed to be a rather stoic and sentient figurine that guards you. His first few attempts were meet with startled eyes and strange looks for the next few weeks. You’re known to be fairly cordial and friendly with the guards, but his reputation proceeded him. Big Scary Guard Dog Bakugou. That’s who you were told was your new guard. And that’s what you expected for the most part. A quiet guy who may or may not be a piece of eye candy following you around like a shadow. Oh boy, were you wrong. He was definitely a piece of eye candy. Actually he was the piece of eye candy that was apart of your elite protection group. A very silent man Bakugou. And after the first couple of weeks of him assigned as you personal guard your opinion on that changed. Bakugou grunts out a G’mornin’ and a G’night to you every day. Almost looks strained, but it’s pleasant nonetheless. And he’s incredibly observant too. You catch him in the hall to your corridors arguing with a servant about the bouquet of flowers she’s attempting to bring in to replace the last bouquet on your writing desk. “Shitty - ahem - her majesty prefers another variety of flower. Go back and procure some of the blue snowball looking ones.” After that you noticed that the vase continually held varieties of flowers that you’d complimented on in the royal gardens. And from then on your awkward guard/royalty relationship bloomed like a hillside. A cascading flurry of one beautiful thing after another. ——— When you’re cozied up in the quiet royal library to enjoy a good book you pause and peek over the top of the novel in your lap. Almost out of curiosity or disbelief that Bakugou is the one asking a question. He blinks out of genuine curiosity and you open your mouth and start to turn the book around so that he can see the words of the story you’re gesturing at. He gets you to go on and on that way. Nothing but a few affirmational vocals from him that he’s still listening. And he loves watching your expressions almost more than when you insist that he do something. Read his own book, after all it is a library. He dismisses it all. And yes your highness he can read and write just fine. This is just his job. Well not the secretly pinning over you while you read, but the watching part. And He learns that you actually know a lot more about kingdom politics than he previously gave you credit for. You’re smoothing over diplomatic matters with a carefully inked letter and secretly keeping promises about exports and materials your kingdom has pledged.

All while you sit and hum at your writing desk. The way you gently tease off your shoes with your toes at the heels when you’ve decided you’re going to be in for a long while. And Katsuki knows then that you’ll idly wave for him to sit instead of standing at his post the whole while. Except he starts to develop the nasty happen of staring and when you catch him looking he’ll chose between grumbling and turning away as his ears turn pink or blink unyielding and say “just doing my job, princess”

Katsuki likes the suave of the second one, but it really ends up being 50/50 with it. ————

But 100% of the time your strolls through the royal garden have him itching to take some armor off as the sunny warmth makes him sweat buckets underneath the layers of his uniform. Not to mention you walking this close already has his skin hot enough. The way you walk shoulder to shoulder just has him practically drooling at the thought of holding your hand. - Exhibits extreme self-control every stroll. Oh and when the fruit and vegetables are ready to be harvested you like to take teasing strolls into the royal orchards and gardens to taste the first ripe fruit of the season. Always curtesying as you point and ask him to grab a mandarin, or plum, or peach, or nectarine, or lemon, or apple, or whatever it is. And you’ve usually tried just before hand. On you tip-toes waggling your decorated fingers into the air. The sunlight bouncing off your jewels that adorn your skin and cascade daggers of rainbowed light upon your face. And it’s always just out of reach. A fresh shiny pout on your face when you turn and ask him to pluck one. And Katsuki usually just has to stand and put his arm up to grab one as you patiently wait and watch. But you’re admiring him just as much as he admired you. Staring up at his chiseled jawline. The wheaty stubble that decorates his face. You long to feel it prickle underneath your fingertips. Wonder how it would feel tickling the edges of your kiss when you finally set your mouth against his plush lips. You admire his impeccable physique. His staggering size as he barely stretches his shoulder to reach the fruit. And the way his golden tan glistens underneath the dappled light of the sun; glistens from the profuse sweat elicited from his layers and layers of chainmail and armor. All brushing over his adams apple before he gulps and turned to hand it to you. And Katsuki loves to hold it in his palm in the way that you have to pick it up. Feel your fingers gently prod and caress the skin of his palm as you turn the fruit over. Mulling over its quality before wordlessly holding it back out. He huffs and grabs the fruit as you take him to the stone wall. You sit and pull out a handkerchief from between your breasts if he’s not swift enough in supplying you with his. And Katsuki will grab his dagger and slice up the fruit, setting the pieces down onto the handkerchief before you plop one into your mouth. His hands will still and his eyes flick to your face watching as you chew and make a satisfied moan. The rest of your stroll will include these snack breaks. Taking “samples” as you call them of the seasons fruit. And the royal gardners have since decided to ignore the two figurines of their princess and the royal guardsmen sitting on the stone walls chattering and pressing handkerchiefs into sticky thieving fingers. ————

In the royal kitchens he accompanies you as you excitedly follow behind a kitchen maid who’s sent for you to do a testing of the new desserts the chef has been working on. Despite your official look of composure he knows that you’re excited by the little bounce in your hair from your steps. Katsuki always clunks down to the table when you beckon him to sit. Frantically patting the chair next to you after he’s been a right gentleman and pushed your chair in. You always think he looks rather scared with the way his carmine eyes dart around the empty dinning hall before the procession of maids and chef come out into the hall and display a plethora of desserts in front of you. They always wave you on with glee before retreating to the kitchen to finish the next batch. Your mouth practically waters as you pick up your fork and spear the perfect first bite. Only to turn to Katsuki with your other hand under the utensil holding it up to his plush pink lips which immediately turn into a defensive scowl. You’re always muttering something about your safety to “taste test for me? Make sure there’s nothing poisoned?” Except Katsuki’s never been sure that’s your real agenda here because you always gently spoon the first bite of your special taste testing into his mouth and if its something chocolate it always taste like Heaven despite it being a brand new recipe. (You’ve got the best chocolatier in the kingdom) and he always a little groan slip out. His face melting as he chews and swallows. (he’s going to be doing a lot more of that)

Before he nods muttering it’s safe. Not that your food would be poisoned because the staff and kingdom are all pretty loyal here and him and the elite guards are way to fricken scary to have on your tail. But he humors you anyway because technically that’s protecting and you’re right it’s in his job description. And then you, without changing forks, without doing anything else immediately set the fork he just used between your own lips and lick off the icing residue between your pink lips and hum before taking a real first bite yourself. And you do it all while maintaining perfect eye contact with him. And he can feel blood rushing to weird places all over his body. And it goes on like this for every single plate they offer. HAVE THE PRINCESS FLIRT WITH YOU: yes? maybe ?? At this rate he’s not sure why the kitchen staff haven’t mandated you with a royal poison taste tester with your insistence of him having a bite of every one of your plates. Seriously what are these people thinking! They’re thinking that there’s some real true love blooming in the castle and who are they to get in the way! Plus, it’s a good practice for any wedding cake samples they do in the future. Of course they won’t ever tell y’all whose wedding they’re preparing to cater. ———— While you delight in that. Katsuki delights in nothing more than your dance lessons. He likes to watch you glide, or try to, across the floor with every step. Definitely feels a weird blooming of secondhand pride when you practice a new step a few times and smooth it out with practice. Overall he finds it very peaceful and relaxing watching you laugh and groan and be belittled by this ancient teacher they have for you. Stands at the door tapping his toe in his boot to the beat. When this ancient woman that he just loves comes over and insists that he mustn’t “just stand there and look handsome. Make yourself useful she needs a partner” which always causes your head to swivel like a chicken as he detaches a few layers of pure metal off his body to make the dancing “easier and more realistic for her highness”

So now he gets to stand bare of any occluding armor and he can feel your e/c gaze washing over his body and the ripping muscles that he’s always had hidden under that armor. Adores the chance to hold you in his arms and practice doing the steps that you’re working on. And he’s attended enough of these things and the balls to be able to pick up on his part pretty quickly. Katsuki, not to toot his own horn because he would never, has to say he’s pretty darn good at dancing. Stupidly good for a royal guard which he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be clunky and clumsy, but as soon as the armor is off he’s as graceful as any one of the princes or dukes you’ve danced with ball after ball and gala after gala. He’s humongous. Practically a head taller than you and his shoulders are stupidly wide and it’s like you’re in a cocoon of just him. His stupid minty breath whenever he’s mumbling something snarky or whispering the counts just loud enough for your teacher to know he’s actually helping. The flopping bangs that fall into his face whenever he needs to look down and see what your feet are doing. Usually because you’ve accidentally skipped a step or done something that messes with his leading because how can you not! Except this only fuels Bakugou’s ego more because he’s never seen you mess up with any partner at any of these balls you attend. The logical part of his brain says it’s because this is your dance room and you’re practicing. But the other hopeful part of his heart says it’s because maybe you’re flustered. Maybe you feel something too. And you definitely do. The oddly warm, but searing heat of his hand on the small of your back makes you stand up. His shoulder and bicep and forearm all a fluttering mass of muscle that languidly stretches and twitches underneath your arm. His meaty and calloused hand that holds yours, which is incredibly clamy except you’re not sure if it’s you or him! And your annoying dance teacher who constantly whacks your limbs and buttocks whenever you do something wrong, which only makes your guards impeccable poker face quirk into a smirk before she starts the music again. And unfortunately the old crone has caught on. Because your lessons after having danced with Katsuki are immensely improved. And your performance at balls is flawless at best, so she’s going to keep asking the young rugged handsome guard of yours to keep stepping in as your partner for dancing because he seems to be the only one where you actually have to work for that composure. ————

[aseaofyoongi]

behind pixels: sequel | jjk

jeon jungkook x reader (f)

genre: sex worker au (jk)

rating: mature audiences only (strictly 18+)

summary: after visiting a certain little app where a guy assisted you during a very stressful night, you realize the man is closer to you than you think.

warnings: not another continuation to a college au. . yes, yes it is; a bit of fluff, a but of smut; wetdreams-ish; masturbation; clitorial stimulation; fingering; in a public location… if you know what i mean; penetrative sex; unprotected sex; oc is a bit insecure; crush culture; i think that’s it honestly

word count: 12.7 thousand words

posted: may 13, 2023

notable songs: self control - frank ocean | love is only a feeling - joey bad$$ | day dream - destin conrad | fire in the sky - anderson paak

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It’s been two weeks.

An entire fourteen days since you were blessed with JK’s instructions as assistance to a night of relief from a collection of frustrating days.

The night when his thunderous voice soothingly lead you towards the most delicious orgasm you’ve experienced. Days after that very event you found yourself dwelling in the fanasities he had communicated from the other side of the screen — dusting off the records stored deep in your brain. All you wanted, all you craved was his voice, his attention, and the one thing you had not been able to experience yet, his touch.

After locking your dorm room door, you removed you shirt and shorts before plopping down on your cotton bed sheets. Your eyes were shut tightly blocking out the brightness from the lamp on the nightstand, with the constant linger of JK in your head your hand began traveling lower until it finally pushed past the hem of your panties. The feeling of your fingertips against your clit sent bolts of electricity en route down your back. You began, working towards that same finish line you’d once crossed when talking to JK on Eargasm. But it wasn’t the same, it’s like you were on that same road you once were but your destination moved farther and farther into the horizon.

Still, with beads of sweat streaming down your temples and with your right hand going numb you continued to rub circles against the sensitive bud in-between your folds.

“Come on, come on,” you huffed as your already muggy dorm became hotter and hotter.

But it wasn’t working — It was useless. Your fingers were useless.

“Doll,” you heard his voice from across the room.

“JK?” your eyes flew open envisioning the man you’ve only spoken to from behind your computer screen. You weren’t sure why but it was so hard to draw the connection between the two of them. There was JK, the man who helped you just a few nights ago with his alluring utters. Then, there was him, still JK only he was the boy who sat behind the front desk in the student center with his nose constantly stuck behind a book. They were the same person but they couldn’t be any more different.

Standing at completely different ends of the road. One became the personification of all of your carnal desires, while the other hid behind a clear shell unbeknownst to the effects his beauty had on you, on all of those around him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, dazed by the fact that he was here. . in your dorm and you were semi naked in his presence yet again, “how did you find out where I live? How did you get in?”

“Don’t worry doll,” he still wore the black mask he wore when he was on camera with you but you could tell by the way his eyes crinkled up that he was smiling behind the dark cloth, “I’m here to help. And by the looks of it seems like you just might need my assistance once again.”

He nodded in the direction of your hand buried under the fabric of your panties.

“I don’t have a masturbation addiction, OK?” you sat up on the bed resting your back on the headboard.

“I never said that,” he chuckled, “if you haven’t noticed I’m a sex worker and if anything, I’m addicted to making people cum.”

“Right.” You cleared your throat, his bluntless shooting straight down to your core.

“By my records I made you cum very. . very quickly,” yes, you were still succumbing to the endorphins of your thoughts circling around him — too focused on the way the bed dipped right beside you, “do you remember that?”

“Huh?”

“Come on, doll,” his hand landed right beside your thigh and he began gently stroking the fabric of your sheets, “don’t tell me you forgot already.”

“I didn’t,” there was a tingle slithering on the surface of your skin, “I was just thinking—“

“You’re thinking of him again aren’t you?” he shook his head, “just remember I’m just a couple messages away and he isn’t even around.”

“Him?” if only he knew. He was him.

“Him. That boy you told me about,” the pads of his fingers brushed against your thigh leaving a trail of goosebumps behind, “the one you said you were thinking about when you were touching yourself.”

“I wasn’t thinking of him.”

“Don’t spare my feelings doll. Tell me the truth. I can take it,” in a way he was right you were thinking of him, the boy from the student center but that also meant you were thinking of JK — how would you even go about explaining this situation to the very man who was clueless to the fact that he was the only person occupying your thoughts?

“When you wanna forget about him for a bit you know where I’ll be doll,” he leaned in and whispered in your ear softly, “I’ll show you a good time.”

His cool breath met the shell of your ear almost in a slowed motion, it left you a shuddering mess. Overcome by the feeling of the electrical currents coursing through your veins. You were addicted to that very feeling but specially because you knew he was the only person who could make you feel what you felt.

“JK, I promise, I’m not—“ you opened your eyes only to be met by a vacant space beside you on the bed.

Fuck. Not again, not again, not again. Everytime you found yourself aiming lower in an attempt for self release he visited you. Storming your thoughts like a tropical storm and wreaking havoc in his path. Reminding you that your fingers no longer had a sense of direction in mapping out your fantasies.

Your fingers now entirely futile. All while your sexual frustrations rose and your cunt continued its rhythmic drumming mimicking a quickening heartbeat. It was increasingly painful and it reminded you of the ease you’d once experienced under JK’s ministrations.

“I’m going crazy. .” you whispered out into the void, “I’m going fucking crazy.”

Temptation drew you closer and closer to the laptop laid out on top of your desk. Although you tried to restrain yourself against it, leaning back on the feeling was much easier. And before you knew it you were sitting on the computer chair with the browser opened up staring right back at you.

In your mind, you typed out Eargasm over and over again — yet there was a hint of hesitation restraining your hands to the arm’s rest.

“He’s just a couple words and clicks away,” you typed out the letters but your hand remained hovering over the keys incapable of actually conducting the search. Surrounded by silence and the anxious streaks of hesitancy — there were an abundant number of questions clouding your mind. But the main one remained whether he would even want you there.

“Just do it, you little bitch,” realistically speaking the chance of JK being online was high, but wasn’t exactly the issue. You knew he extended an invitation for you to visit him at your leisure but in the back of your head you couldn’t help but wonder if you were pushing it demanding his attention this quickly?

The clacking of the keys echoed among the walls of your room. Immediately, your eyes were exposed to the bright turquoise full screen with the seven letters highlighted in a bright pink tone. The more you ogled the welcome screen the more you were consumed . . fervid with the excitement cooking up in your stomach as you came to terms with the fact that JK was so close. In a haste you clicked on the message icon wanting to pull up the very familiar username but to your demise there was a ruby colored ring surrounding his icon. He was with someone else. . Someone who wasn’t you.

This is his job. You repeated.

He does this every night. You repeated.

There was an aching sting springing in the center of your chest and while prior to that night your heart remained at a sinus rhythm, in this moment that changed and you could feel as the organ slowed pumping almost coming to a full stop.

It really shouldn’t sting but you couldn’t help that it did.

“Please tell me you’re planning to go back home at some point this summer,” your best friend approached the table you occupied on the second floor of the dinning hall.

“Not a chance,” you swayed your pointer finger left and right.

Though, campus was significantly bare during the following scorching months there was nothing to really go back home to. While, you didn’t necessarily have a bad relationship with your parents — they were just never there. The purpose for their living and breathing was reduced down to avoiding you so they became addicted to their jobs. A pair of workaholics looking to forget about their personal lives, which only resulted in becoming estranged to their only daughter in the process.

And at the end of the day you’d rather spend nearly all three-hundred and sixty five days of the year on school grounds as opposed to being cooped up in a ‘house’ with nothing but empty rooms and frigid hallways.

“I can’t believe you actually chose to stay here. If I were you I’d be springing right past those brick columns and archway,” she sighed resting her head on her palm.

“How about we actually get you to pass that pesky math elective so that we can get back to your family for the entirety of the summer.”

“What about you?” she asked.

“What about me?”

“What will it take to finally get you to go back home at least once next summer?”

“I don’t think anything is compelling enough for me to go back there and ruin my summer,” you shrugged while taking another bite of your sandwich.

“Come on,” she whined, “Nothing?”

You shook your head — there was nothing back home for you but stark loneliness. That was crystal clear to you.

“There’s not a special somebody waiting for you?” Once again, you shook your head.

Nada.

“So you’re telling me there's not a mystery man who’s the root of all your pent up sexual frustration?” She raised an eyebrow at you, clearly not believing a single word out of your mouth. You hushed her immediately, scanning your surroundings to make sure the people in the surrounding tables weren’t hearing in on your conversation. They weren’t.

“Can you shut the fuck up?”

“You act as if it’s a crime,” she rolled her eyes, “everyone masterbates and it’s actually healthy you know.”

“I would really appreciate it if we could hold this conversation until we are behind closed doors,” you uttered through gritted teeth, feeling like you had the label ‘recent masturbater’ plastered on your forehead.

“Fine,” she took yet another bite of your apple, “will you at least tell me if Eargasm helped you illustrate all of your wildest fantasies.”

“You make it sound like it’s some sort of elaborate form of art,” you guffawed.

Her bulging eyes stared at you as if you’d insulted one of her family members or a pet, “It is an art form. It definitely is. Just think how hard it must be to help someone get off by quickly reading their body language through a screen.”

“When you put it like that the guy I saw must be a magician,” God, you tried stripping all hints of excitement from your voice at the casual acknowledgment of his presence.

If anything JK himself was an art piece himself, illustrated onto the canvas with pristine brush strokes detailing all the perfect curvatures of his face and physique. He draped himself in dark hues and even within the square frame just hung on the wall he was a light source. One that demanded your attention, holding eye contact at all times and refused to let you dedicate even a bit of your attention to anything or anything who wasn’t him.

“What do you mean by that?” she squinted while crossing her arms at her chest.

“Well, for starters,” you shrugged, “I kind of never turned on my camera. . Not for the beginning of the session at least.”

“Not for the entire session?”

“Exactly.”

“Bitch, that was a question not a statement.”

You sighed; blanketed with bashfulness, “so after I requested a video session and he finally called I physically couldn’t hit the camera button.”

“And what did he say?”

“Nothing condescending,” you took a sip of your water, “he was actually really nice about it. That was pretty much the session.”

“But you insinuated you turned it on at some point?”

You stared out the glass windows adoring the wall beside the table — Now, you began to weigh your options. You could either deflate, avoid or confess. And at this point you were one hundred percent sure she has seen far too much. Much more than you ever intended to show anyone on this entire campus.

“I said that?” Avoid? Ok.

“You did. .” She pushed her chair closer to yours, perhaps her attempt at creating a concealed atmosphere.

“I have nothing to tell.”

You kissed her teeth simulating hints of annoyance at your discretion, “Bitch. . stop acting clueless. You’re a shit liar.” She eyed the way you anxiously played around with your hooped earrings.

“I’m not hiding anything” you let go of the silver jewelry and sat up on your chair, “And I’m not a shit liar.”

“Fine. Spare the juicy secrets.” She shrugged, “but at least tell me who you saw.”

After giving the tables around you a thorough scan to make sure he wasn’t near you finally whispered the only name you knew him by into her ear, “I almost chose Tae but then remembered you see him so I saw JK instead.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t cause Tae is mine,” she grinned like a fool. A love struck fool.

“Yours, as in yours and probably a hundred other girls. You know that, right?”

“That’s the crude reality isn’t it?” she sat the half eaten apple on the table huffing continuously like a mopey child, “how was JK though?”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and while there were a million praises you wanted to express, all of the words sat idle in the back of your throat, “he was good.”

“Just. . good?”

“Well, better than good actually,” you began, urging your mind to unscramble the words needed to amplify his saccharine aid, “He was gentle and patient. But even more than that he was also sweet and caring.”

“I’ve read this man’s description before so he has tattoos and an eyebrow piercing right?” you nodded in confirmation, “plus he’s a literal angel?”

“Pretty much.”

“Dear God, how are you even breathing right now?” she placed her arms at your shoulders and rocked you back and forth emphasizing your existence here on planet earth as you finally comprehended that you weren’t just living some sort of venereal dream.

“I-I honestly don’t even know,” the flashed lingers of that night resided in your mind in small clips — the more you tried to recall the amatory details the more your mind became cloudy, dazed in its own lustful elixir. A potion so potent you were still high days after just off that hour doze, “it was definitely a night.”

“You should visit him again,” she began poking your side, “I know you wanna see him again.”

“I don’t know,” you giggled, pushing yourself away from her finger, “I honestly think it was a one time thing.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

General Ed classes were frankly the worst part of university. You couldn’t quite understand the need to take all of the same classes you took and passed in highschool just so that they could reaffirm that you could in fact do math or knew your basic knowledge of biology or chemistry.

It was bullshit — An evident cash grab scheme. All at the expense of dedicating one’s freshmen year attending classes we truly didn’t even really need applied to our major.

You could sincerely rant about this all day long but it was currently nine in the morning, you were running low, (very low actually), on coffee and you were already ten minutes late to your intro to biology class. Your pace was matched with long strides as you were practically running through the courtyard.

Finally pushing through the glass door you felt the way the blanket of sweat covered your forehead. Leaving your skin as bright as polished glass and your breath shortening as a result of the rapid trip between your dorm and the library.

“Fuck,” you were out of breath choosing to take a seat on the bench near the entrance for a seconds before reluctantly hoping back on your feet and trotting up the stairs to the computer room.

Looking through the door’s window you saw the professor lecturing away. You practiced about a dozen ways to go in before you finally convinced yourself to just barge in — which eventually you did but a wave of regret washed over you when the door behind you closed with a loud bang and suddenly all glares were on you.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

“No worries, it happened to almost everyone here. Seems like the door is louder than we perceived,” the professor replied.

Scanning around the mid-size room you saw foreign faces staring back at you until your bestfriends smiled beamed brightly from the table at the end of the room. She was sitting alone with two vacant chairs on either side “Yeah, seems like it.”

“Well, welcome to Intro to Conducting Research. I’m Mr. Kim.” he introduced himself with a tender smile, “I hope you found your way ok. I know this one’s kind of a hidden gem unlike the rest of the lecture halls.”

“It did take me just a bit of time,” you chuckled, suppressing your nerves as they quickly urged you to scramble away from the front of the class and just sink into a chair to prevent yourself from verbalizing anymore idiotic babbles and incoherencies, “is the seating assigned?”

“No, no go ahead and find a seat wherever you’d like. We were just getting started.”

Quickly, you found yourself plopping on the chair beside your bestfriend, puffing out the constrained breath that had taken your chest cavity hostage as a result of your embarrassing entrance. Mr. Kim continued his first day lecture which mainly consisted of a syllabus reading, his life’s story and the scrambled rules to an icebreaker on the white board.

“What do the icebreaker questions say?” your friend asked, squinting to get a better look at the board, “I left my glasses at my dorm.”

“Does it matter?” you slouched down aiming for complete comfort slinging your feet on the metal bar, “we literally know everything about each other already.”

“Bullshit, I have no idea what your name is. .” Her delivery was accompanied with low and raspy vibratos. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought she was mimicking Mr. Kim’s voice. She pulled her phone from one of the pockets of her book bags and began scrolling aimlessly.

Your chuckle was airy and quickly vanished when you heard the rusty hinges of the door wailing out. The loud noise from the door meeting the threshold startled you although your eyes were already glued to the front of the room.

“That door is going to drive me fucking crazy,” the exasperation in her words was evident and you were about to agree but suddenly, you had moved from your place right beside her — feeling like she was now miles away. While you were now in this narrow space similar to an alley or tunnel. In the distance you saw her still glued to her phone screen while sitting on the opposite end; succumbed to pitch blackness. Even as you stood and attempted to sprint in her direction you were condemned to the enclosed walls.

You couldn’t tell whether you were trapped within a dream or a nightmare but he was here.

JK was here.

That was the torment drumming itself amongst the walls of your skull as the beat etched the stills of that night deep into your brain. The night you swore you would forget yet here he was to remind you of every second of it. Yet, your gaze was focused on him and you just couldn’t peel your eyes away.

You’d concluded it was entirely his fault. He possessed the kind of beauty you’d only ever heard derived from the ancient Gods of Greece — and as if he was a descendant of Aphrodite he held distinct associations to his name. You would argue JK was synonymous to beauty (obviously), love, passion and most certainly lust.

You must have been deep in orbit because you couldn’t recall the first or the second or the hundredth time your friend called out for you, so much so that she began shaking you to get you to snap out of it.

“Cute boy is coming this way,” she nodded in his direction, and you quickly realized he was closer than you had perceived, “Look alive bitch. He definitely looks like your type.”

“I don’t have a type,” you whispered through gritted teeth — he was close now. Just a few feet away.

“Yes, you do,” she mumbled back, “he’s practically a carbon copy of your Eargasm boyfriend.”

“He’s not,“ you argued quietly.

With her giggles circling through the air and your bulging eyes of horror JK finally made it to the proximity of your table and his soft utters sent an algid shiver to take route on your skin freezing you right into place.

His name was Jungkook, you’d learned.

He was JK but he was also Jungkook.

Between unremitting stutters you introduced yourself briefly and he took the liberty of occupying the only vacant chair left in the classroom which also happened to be right next to your best friend.

Small talk was your kryptonite and while your friend excelled in keeping conversations alive, you sat opposite the two of them lulled into space. Making your best attempt to seem as least interested as possible. But the truth was whenever you heard his voice you thought a command would follow right behind it — just like the ones he communicated that night.

Your thoughts were scrambled into a mess and there was a dull ache in between your legs further accentuating the frustration you’ve felt for far too long.

“What about you?” he asked, his eyes were duly set on you.

“Huh?” his brown eyes were so much more invasive in person and you felt like he devoured you with them.

“Is this your second year too?” he repeated.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, “it is.”

“Don’t mind her,” your friend said, “she’s a little out of it.”

“It’s ok,” he smiled; and quickly you noticed the silver hoop sparkling on the corner of his lip. Was that always there? You hadn’t noticed before. “Being here for the summer has us all going a little crazy.”

“Is this your first summer here?”

He nodded, “I usually head back home for summer but I figured I would get my gen ed’s out the way.”

“We all had the same idea I suppose,” you contributed.

“It’s better than being here for a whole extra semester,” she played mindlessly with the zippers on her backpack.

“What about you guys?” he asked, “is this your first summer here.”

Your friend quickly began recounting her endless summer adventures from years prior. . far far away from campus. Jungkook nodded and they both reflected on the forsaken summer ahead. Deflated at the exceeding number of voyages they’ll be missing while condemned to remain on campus.

You couldn’t help but wonder about the things you had kept from yourself. . A lot perhaps.

With the company of the scorching heat of the summer months daylight savings time lurked right behind it—providing the longevity of the sun, as the Earth seems to lean a bit closer to the star and decrease its speed in rotation.

And here you were melting away by the very sun. Unbeknownst to the so-called wonders of the summertime. Barred from any of the memories everyone seemed to be defined by: the best months of the year, the best moments of your life they’d say.

While enthralled in your own thoughts you heard your friend’s voice though it was a bit muffled, still you were able to make out what she said, “Ellie is over there. I’m gonna go say hi. You two talk okay?”

Jungkook chuckled softly. Why would she say that? Ugh, she made it weird. She definitely made it weird.

“Is she always like this?” he asked, leaning a bit closer in your direction and although he still remained in his chair at a considerable distance, you could feel the waves of his body heat crashing against you.

“Always,” there was a hint of nervousness stained on your tongue but you swallowed it down. Or at least tried to, “life’s never boring when she’s around.”

“You guys been friends long?” he asked, gis voice still vibrated in your inner ear, sounding like the beat of drums. It truly did frazzle your nerves.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends for a bit.”

He nodded. Simply soaking in what you’ve said—there was nothing else to say but you urged to hear the strumming of his sweet words just once more.

“What about you,” you clasped your balmy hands on top of the table, “you got any friends around here?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nodded, “I have a couple. We all live near each other back home too so I’m never allowed a moment of peace.”

“Seems like we’re kind of living under the same pretenses.”

“Seems like it. Maybe, we could escape away together one day.”

Together? Did he just say together? As in the both of you, on the same route. . Intentionally, while in each other’s company?

The silence between the two of you was deafening, you became nearly incompetent; unable to communicate anything corrigible. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your throat became dry. So fucking dry.

“Or-“ he began, seemingly taken back by your lack of verbal communication.

“Yes,” you finally said, “I’d like that very much.”

“You promise?”

“One day.”

The first week of research class was slow. . repetitive and you couldn’t help the way your thoughts wandered off to your conversation with Jungkook the first day of class. How you promised each other one day—Just one day but that was as far as it has gone so far.

Even though, in that moment, you couldn’t feel farther away from him.

You’d barely uttered a word to each other but the patented ‘hello’ and ‘bye’ but that was the extent of it. There had been nothing else. Plus he no longer sat near, he was three tables away with his friend, Namjoon who had switched in on day two of class.

You couldn’t ignore the ping in your heart when you walked in that day and you saw him that far away—You could no longer spark up nuisance conversations, or sneak glances when you pretended to write your notes or have the sweetness of his vanilla scent inundating your nostrils.

It has all gone to shit. With fervent frustration you trotted up the stairs to your dorm on the second floor. Looking forward to laying in the comfort of your bed until you have to physically peel yourself away from your sheets.

The first strike was pitched the moment you pulled out your key card from the back pocket of your jeans and it immediately hit the floor. Conducting a string of breathing exercises to ease your rising vexation you picked up the card once more and took a deep breath before sliding it into the reader. The world was pitted against you that day though, because as soon as you retrieved the card and reached for the knob the electronic lock dinged and flashed its red light.

You tried again and again and again—all your attempts leading to the same result. Until finally your irritation ran rampant through your veins and you continuously banged on your door with your balled fists as if that would have made a difference. There was no one on the other side who could possibly rescue you, your only solution lived in the student center. . Visiting the very booth occupied by a certain boy who lived in your heart and mind.

“Oh c’mon, not today,” you mumbled leaning against the cold wooden door, “fucking Monday’s are always shit.”

The way to the student center was not long at all but your calves were torched with the amount of walking you’d already done for the day. Luckily, as you pulled the door open the hallways were vacant which meant there were no lines and most importantly no waiting.

“Finally, this damned day might just be turning around,” you mumbled to yourself.

You walked down the corridor, entered the second to last room and there he was sitting behind the rectangle frame carved into the wall. Jungkook’s chin rested on his palm. His long strands were left in a disarray but it made it work. He truly did. The rest of his body was hidden behind the tall desk but even from your position near the door you could see the collar of his black t-shirt. Even as the bell on top of the door chimed his attention was consumed by the brightly lit screen laid out in front of him.

“Hi,” he greeted, not looking up in the direction of the door once, “welcome to card and ID services. How may I help you?”

“Is this how you greet all the students who pop in here?” you teased with what you recalled to be your most idiotic smile plastered on your face.

He chortled finally realizing who it was, “if I would’ve known it was you I would have given you my undivided attention from the moment you walked in.”

Realizing you stood without your friend as a shield for conversations, you swallowed your nervousness. “You say a lot but I bet you don’t mean half of what comes out of your mouth.”

“I live by codes of honesty, doll.”

There was a stumble in your step as soon as you heard the pet name he uttered through your laptop screen all those nights ago. The same one that had you lured under his spell, in a disarray of emotions, whimpering babbles of nothing at all and everything all at once.

“Whatever you say, Jungkook,” you rolled your eyes. “I’m actually here for a reason, not just for your charms and to see a pretty face.”

“Charms and a pretty face huh?” he smirked.

“Anyway,” you diverted the conversation away from your inane choice of words, “I’m actually here because I can’t open my dorm door with this thing anymore.”

“Is it working though?”

“No,” you slid the card over to him on the surface of the desk. You were hoping to get a peak of his tattoos as he reached out for it but he wore a hoodie. “it isn’t working like. . at all.”

“Actually, I was talking about my charismatic personality and dashing good looks.” His annoying and compelling magnetism had you in conflict between wanting to smack him upside the head or suck his dick behind the counter. “According to you of course.”

“Let’s table the cockiness for now and focus on the actual problem taking root,” you tapped your fingers in the plastic rectangular key.

Jungkook smiled and took the plastic key before sitting back on his office chair and typing away purposely into his keyboard. Even under the shitty lighting of this holed up office space his attractiveness was evident.

“How did you even manage to fuck up your card this bad?” he asked, not really demanding an answer but you shrugged anyway, “the computer won’t even read it.”

“I really have no idea.”

“This is gonna cost you, you know” his eyes still remained on the screen.

“I thought this shit was free?” you argued, “don’t we pay enough tuition to cover a little damaged keycard. I should’ve just broken my way in.”

Jungkook simply shook his head whilst dragging his chair back towards the printer to fetch your card.

“Consider that we’re very well acquainted classmates. Can you please deduct fifty-percent from what you were going to charge?”

“Well acquainted classmates?” His expression was hard to read but if you had to guess he seemed a bit hurt. . perhaps offended. But you could also just be misreading the situation. “And here I thought we were really good friends.”

“Aren’t they synonymous?”

“Not to me,” he held the new card towards you only to pull it back when you reached for it.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes at him. “We’re friends. Great friend actually.”

“Hm, I don’t know. Sounds a bit disingenuous,” he sat back on his chair still holding your key hostage.

You scoffed. “And how would you possibly know that?”

“I can read people.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

He smirked, “I can always just show you how well I can read people.”

The intent behind his words was blurred behind thick lines and while you genuinely thought he wanted to plead his case, you couldn’t help but feel like there were hints of temptation behind his promise.

It actually took you a bit off guard—though, not really. Jungkook, like JK, (his alter ego?) was a concoction of sensuality and comfort. He is the personification of sweetness and while that was a fact he also had a player persona and he was driven by flirtatious mannerism.

The perfect combination of two.

“Is this how you spend most of your day? Harassing all of the girls who come by to get their keycards fixed.”

“Harrasing is such an ugly word,” he smiled. That stupid that was so compelling it actually drew you closer and closer to him. “Besides you’re the only one I like to fuck around with.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you,” he repeated in a hushed tone, placing your card on the wooden surface while his hand remained on top of it, swallowing it whole under his palm. “If you really wanna test your luck I want to offer a proposition.”

“What would that proposal entail?” You removed his palm and finally grabbed the card, shoving it in your back pocket. You tried to hide it but the feeling of your fingers meeting his ignited sparks to crackle in the pit of your stomach and instantly you were blinded by bright lights, perhaps fireworks.

“One day, remember?” Jungkook’s eyes are mesmeric, stroked with intricate detail, dabbed with a tone of cafè noir, glossed over as a final coat offering a shiny layer.

“One day, yes,” you confirmed taking yourself back to your conversation on day one, “you offered to take me around and show the beauty of summer. Everything I’ve been missing apparently.”

Jungkook shook his head light-heartedly. “Right. I was just wondering if we could upgrade the singular term to plural.”

“What do you mean?”

“One day,” he repeated. “Can we change that to a couple of days instead?”

Days. . This implies that you’ll be spending days with Jungkook? This felt like a cultivation of your own personal heaven. Initially, when he proposed the idea to you back in class a seed had been planted in your head, slowly blooming a flower which swayed briskly the more you thought about Jungkook and being able to ever spend time alone with him.

“You know I didn’t actually think you meant any of it,” you lied, you believed him or at least you wanted to.

“Did I not just say I’m a man of honesty?”

“Apparently that’s your morale code, right?” you raised your eyebrow at his claims of integrity.

“Of course, it is.” He confirmed, “don’t sound so surprised please.”

“Not surprised. Just absorbing all of this newfound information.”

“Absorbing sounds a lot like mocking.”

“Mocking is such an ugly word,” you teased.

“Ha—ha, very funny,” he uttered jokingly accompanied by a rumbling fake laugh, “you know what’s not funny?”

“What?” you tilted your head slightly with a smug smile painted on your lips.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I do?” you hummed.

“You really strive to puncture my ego don’t you?” his gaze was set on you intently, his dark orbs read you slowly from head to toe. It made your palms balmy and you could feel a tremble taking route at your lower extremities.

Walking towards the door your shaky hand reached for the handle and opening it before turning back one last time. “The answer is yes.” You walked out although you heard a string of questions following right behind you, all of them left unanswered.

Yesterday was Friday, which meant today was Saturday. You knew that. You were competent enough to map out the days of the week accordingly. . Still, you weren’t quite sure why you heard an alarm blare through the walls of your dorm at six in the morning, startling you right out of the comfort of your slumber. Now, just thirty minutes past seven after rushing your morning routine thinking you’d ‘late for class’ you sat in bed showered with no real plans for the day ahead.

Your bowl of instant oatmeal was now empty and sitting on the nightstand beside your bed.

Navigating through the multitude of apps on your laptop was not as entertaining as you once perceived and although it did ease your boredom for a bit. Now you sat with the base panel sticking to your thighs staring at the home screen with nothing else to probe into.

“Come on,” Jungkook’s voice was barely above a whisper, once again he seems to have invaded your thoughts, “I know you wanna visit me.”

“I’m not sure what you mean. I don’t need to visit the student center today.”

“You know what I’m talking about, doll,” the words bounced in your head, “I know you remember.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your attempt at trying to vanish him from your mind entirely. But even if you hated to admit it you couldn’t help but crave that feeling of him being here even if it was through the building blocks of your own imagination—It just felt so real. The heat of his presence felt so real and truly you just wanted to be consumed by it.

“Last time, I visited you. . You were a little busy.”

“That was last time,” he laid back sinking into the softness of your mattress and pillows, “I promise I’m all yours today.”

His commands were like the songs of sirens inching you closer to the very spot where he wanted you to be. Very easily you typed in the name of the website you’d grown very familiar with on the browser and quickly clicked on the last messages between the two of you — he was online and without indication of being in another session. That’s a good sign.

Yeah.

You can call.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard without indication on how to approach a conversation because for one you wanted to speak to him but it was also eight in the morning and Eargasm was a simple gateway to an orgasm. Not to mention, you’d be talking to JK not Jungkook and while the two were the same person they were also different.

BunnyBoy98 is typing…

Fancy seeing you

back here ;)

You quite literally could not move.

Have you missed

me?

Please. Don’t flatter

yourself.

It’s not flattery.

Last I recall, I

did make you cum.

My fingers did that.

Not you.

Who was the guiding

voice though?

Right.

Right.

Don’t you ever

forget it, doll.

Is there a reason

you messaged me?

I like that about

you, you know.

What?

Your bluntness.

It reminds me of

someone I know.

It’s hot.

There’s someone else? Someone who occupies his thoughts regularly it seems. Your heart felt heavier as the sharp blade pierced right through it leaving behind a vast hole and an incurable wound. You weren’t really sure why but it hurt so bad.

But you knew it should not. His job required sparking up conversations with dozens of girls on a daily basis and helping at least a dozen more find their culmination.

You cannot feel anything.

Thinking of other girls

in my presence? Shame

on you BunnyBoy.

Sorry, doll.

I promise right

now is all about you.

But we seem to have

started on the wrong

foot. How can we fix

that, BunnyBoy?

Use me as you

please.

As you read his request there was a shift in the atmosphere. Sort of like what you felt back in back that first day, where you were briefly dreaming inside of a dream or like what you imagined it would feel like if the Earth ever slammed down on its brakes coming to an abrupt halt. Actually, you were sitting in a massive slingshot just waiting to be catapulted into space — it was all too grand to minimize into coherent thoughts, too great to be reality.

But it was and you were pulled right out of your own illusion when the phone call icon began vibrating repeatedly signaling there was an incoming call.

While your head was still swimming among the cottony clouds your fingers somehow managed to hit the green button on the call from JK popping up on your screen.

“I was beginning to become hopeless,” his voice was so distinctive the minute he began talking your skin became covered in goosebumps.

“Why were you becoming hopeless?” To this day, you wondered how you were able to point him out even in a crowd just by his voice and he’s yet to identify yours. Perhaps, that is exactly the reason why you were so comfortable speaking to him here — and adopting the confident persona you lack in real life.

“When I call there’s usually an answer just by the first ring.”

“Things are different today, BunnyBoy,” you laid down and placed the laptop on the pillow right beside your head. “I make the requests today, remember?”

You were nervous and you weren’t quite sure just how much of this you could actually pull off but you were willing to try just to show him a good time.

“It’s your turn to tell me what you desire most,” you tried to maintain a whisper to your tone. Not only was that your go-to interpretation of seductiveness but it was also really fucking early in the morning and the last thing you needed was to be the dirty talk alarm for your dorm neighbors.

“I like to be the gateway to heaven.”

“Elaborate.”

“You know exactly what I mean,” he snickered. Of course, he was referring to the art of making someone orgasm and he was right you were all too familiar with it. . Especially coming from him.

“What is it that you like so much about it?”

“It’s just an addicting feeling. I don’t really know how to put it into words,” you could tell he was talking through a wide grin, “it’s such a vulnerable moment for most people but I can’t help but drink the other person in entirely until I’m drunk off the antics and mannerism of their orgasm.”

“You get off by getting other people off?”

“I guess that’s an easier way to explain it.”

“So do I need to get off to help you get off right now?”

He huffed out a small breath, “Is that what you want, doll. To help me?”

You hummed, crumbling and failing to come up with any words at the mention of the nickname he’d attached to you.

“I can dig into my memories, you know. There’s so much about you I remember,” Again, you couldn’t see him but you could sense the smirk right through the microphone, “I know you kept your screen off but the sounds you made were enough to have me touching myself every second of everyday for days on end.”

The sensation of your walls clenching around nothing was taunting and the stream flowing right through the fabric of your panties just piled up on the mountain of frustration. You were miles away from the peak as you trotted up slowly but your thoughts remained on him.

“It’s like an audio file on loop. Your whimpers, and moans and the soft utters of my name. Fuck. The mixture became an ideal composition to the perfect ballad,” he confessed through a string of soft pants, “and then the way you pushed your fingers past your lips just to savor the taste of yourself. You really drove me to insanity.”

Your body felt as light as a feather and you could’ve sworn you were levitating right above your mattress you just couldn’t open your eyes to prove it. Instead, your tanktop was pushed below your breasts and your finger began its trail on your clit rubbing slow circles.

“JK, ima need you to shut the fuck up right now,” you were breathless with a hint of desperation. Ready to lose yourself in his voice, but you couldn’t, “shut up—“ you repeated, “this is not how it’s supposed to go today.”

“You say that,” he cooed, “but how come I can tell you’ve already begun to touch yourself?”

You pulled your hand from yourself, repelling away from the gravitational pull forcing you to reach back down between the warmth of your thighs. “You don’t know that and I was not touching myself.”

“You were and I’m 100-percent sure of it.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t worry, doll. You’ve done more than enough to get me where I need to be,” he hissed.

Realistically speaking this was the goal—Your goal for the day. But the reality of Jungkook’s whine sounding near the shell of your ear made you imagine things that weren’t even there for the third time in the past few weeks.

And there he was, beside you once again, with his cock springing out from above the hem of his shorts. It was longer; bigger than you’d imagined but he made use of his veiny hands moving up and down his length with a hastened pace. Quickly working his way right into an orgasm.

“Tell me how it feels, JK,” you rubbed your legs together in search of some ease — perhaps to ignore the pain or the desirous sting threading dangerously near to overwhelmingness but it wasn’t helping. You reach out for one of the decorative cushions sitting on your bed and quickly rid yourself of your panties hiking your skirt up past your belly button. You weren’t quite sure what came over you but looking over at ‘JK’ laying beside you began swaying your hips against the cotton cushion to match his exact pace.

“Fuck—“ you squealed.

“Oh, doll,” he let out a rasp groan, “t-that’s exactly what I needed. Keep going please. I’m so close.”

Minutes went by since the two of you began exchanging the alluring songs escaping each of your lips. It was an orchestra of pleasure and you kept at it until your whines combined with his grunts signaled the peak of your actions.

“Oh fuck,” he breathed out, “I’ve never done that before.”

“What?”

“This has never happened during one of my sessions.”

You smiled, “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

“Visit me more often,” he said, “I mean it. Don’t wait another two weeks.”

“I’ll be back. Don’t worry Jung—JK,” you cleared your throat as an attempt to mask your almost massive fuck up. Hopefully he didn’t hear.

“I’ll be here.”

“Bye.”

The call was disconnected. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Not again.

Hours passed since your very interesting morning with Jungkook or should you say JK. It was closer to late night and you sat on a bench just outside the library with the luminous ray of the moon singling you out like a spotlight. You were tired and just like the moon sat without any stars surrounding it to keep it company you chose to be here, alone; secluded just for a little while. You needed it.

The night hadn’t begun this way. Not at all.

Your friend had texted you hours prior letting you know that a couple of people from research class had noticed a mini research project due for that Monday. And like any other group of panicked college students you all grabbed your shit and ran to the library to get the work done. Back then, you didn’t know that by ‘a few people from research class’ she also meant Jungkook.

While you could feel a kaleidoscope of butterflies flapping their wings against the lining of your stomach, there were also those pressing nerves. You know, the ones that make your hands tremble, your tongue feel heavy inside of your mouth and your palms balmy all together.

It was a variation of your own personal heaven and hell.

“May I know why you’re out here sitting all by yourself,” there weren’t winds strong enough to make you shiver the way his voice had just now.

Would he recognize your voice from this morning? Maybe he would. You pressed your hands against the wooden bench and took a deep breath.

It’s gonna be okay. You chanted. It’s going to be okay.

“Oh, I’m done with the project and I just needed a bit of fresh air,” you waved your hands around in an attempt to point at the library but you ended up pointing in the opposite direction, “it was just too hot in there.”

“Yeah. .” He slouched down and placed his head on the back rest, “I needed out too.”

“Did you get to finish?”

“I did,” he laughed, “I chose the effects of tattoos in the workplace.”

“Ha—“ you guffawed, shaking your head, “I’m sure you meant to make a statement.”

“Of course, doll.” There it was again. The effects it had on you were so grand meanwhile he just brushed right past it like absolutely nothing.

“How many tattoos do you have anyway?”

He rolled his sleeve up revealing his arm all the way up to his bicep, “I lost count after filing in the gaps for my sleeve but I’ll confidently say I’m well over thirty.”

“You must have all of the secrets to pain tolerance,” you stared at the art pieces adoring his honey skin.

“I would say I have it more under control now than I ever did before,” his head turned towards you and his dark eyes pierced your soul, “I almost cried during my first one though. Hurt so fucking bad I had to keep taking breaks.”

“Which one was it?”

He brought his arm up and showed you the flower sitting right on his right elbow.

“Can I?” That was your way of asking if it was okay for you to touch it without having to actually say it.

“Yeah.”

Your fingertips traced the small orange flower along with its surroundings which sprawled out into a larger floral design. Sparks of electric currents traveled from your fingers as they remained in contact with his skin. You couldn’t help but wonder if he felt it too but you were too afraid to ask.

“Did you get it shaded and colored in one go?”

“I couldn’t,” he shuddered, likely remembering that very day at the tattoo shop, “hurts just thinking about it.”

“But then you went and got a whole sleeve?”

“I guess I’m still fond of a bit of pain.”

“That’s psychotic.”

“Maybe,” he closed his eyes lightly, as a cheeky wide-toothed grin formed on his lips. That was the last of your interaction for a bit, the two of you just sat back in silence enjoying the serenity of the night. But of course, silence seemed to be a burden on Jungkook’s behalf because it didn’t really last too long. “Hey, you wanna go get ice cream? I hear the shop just off campus is open late.”

“Is this the kick start to your summer itinerary for me?”

“Could be. . if you want it to.”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

With a stunned expression your friend watched as Jungkook followed behind you, into the library to collect your belongings only to see you exit with him once more. Even though the windows you saw as her mouth remained agape as you disappeared into the night with the man that occupied so much of your heart and mind.

Seconds after you felt your phone vibrate continuously in your back pocket. Knowing it was probably just her with an abundance of prying questions you ignored it for now instead choosing to focus on the paved road ahead you. There are so many beautiful things to admire at this time of night — the way the bright green leaves sway with the cool breeze on the branches they’d call home for the duration of the summer, there was also the way the brightness of the street light illuminated the way to your destination. There were no lone frigid gusts whispering their way through the city, instead there was the buzzing chatter of on-goers bringing the streets back to life.

Jungkook and you occupied the sidewalk taking in every scene, every conversation, every person, every detail in your way and just as you neared the little ice cream shop you saw the way his doe eyes lit up at the vibrant shade of pink on the concrete walls.

“What should I get you?” You sat on one of the small tables lined up on the sidewalks just a few feet away from the shop.

“Chocolate please,” you pulled out your wallet just as he placed his hand on top of yours and shook his head.

“I invited you, didn't I?”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

Across from you at another small table you spotted a couple seemingly on their first day. You could tell because the girl as beautiful as she was, she wore the same gitters you did. The way her fingers trembled whenever the boy across from her inched his hand closer to hers.

She wore the exact same gitters you did but you were not here on a date. You were merely an acquaintance. Someone Jungkook knew in passing — likely to become someone he once knew once this charade of wanting to show you around for the summer was over.

“Are you always this deep in your own thoughts?” Jungkook sat across from you on the table and handed you the wafer cone with two chocolate scoops.

“Not always. .” you took a swift lick of your ice cream, “sometimes is probably a bit more accurate though.”

“May I ask why that is?”

“There are too many things dancing around in my head to figure out the steps to,” you began playing around with the edge of the napkins laid out on the table.

“Do any of those pressing thoughts have to do with your shit taste in ice cream flavors?” The dimples on his rosey cheeks were scaled to your meter of comfort and you couldn’t help but reciprocate his cheerful manner.

“Shit?” you sneered, “if we’re talking shit, strawberry is definitely first on the list.”

“Strawberry ice cream tastes like actual strawberries. Now please tell me what chocolate ice cream tastes ‘cause it is certainly not chocolate.”

“Bullshit. It does taste like chocolate.”

“Now, that's bullshit,” he continued, savoring his frozen dessert. “Will you ever tell me why you despise the summertime so much?”

“I do not despise it. I just—“ you sighed, “there are just experiences that simply do not wash away with the currents of the beach waves.”

“That’s awfully poetic.”

“I like to dramatize my life experiences.”

“I won’t make you elaborate. I will, however, smother you with my favorite activities until you have no choice but to fall in love with the season,” he strapped his backpack on and called over to you, “you ready?”

Whoever said spinning around on the roundabout after devouring an entire cone of ice cream was a good idea — was wrong. Of course, Jungkook’s ideas of the perfect summer night were made up of late night escapees, sweets and indigestion.

Jungkook, the culprit in this entire scheme plopped down on the multi-colored metal surface, clearly out of breath after having spun you so fast the heavens were now where the ground once used to be.

“You are the worst,” you laid down on the roundabout, eyes closed, swallowing down the nausea creeping up the back of your throat, “if I puke. . It is entirely on you.”

“Last I recall, you’re the one who wanted to be spun around on this thing.”

“Yes.” You continued taking deep breaths, “keyword spin not attempt to blast me off into the Milky Way.”

“You are such a drama queen.”

“There is nothing dramatic about the way my head is spinning right now,” you felt his shower brush against yours — he was now laying beside you. You opened your eyes slightly, turning your head in his direction, “are there now three of you?”

“Here,” he raised a hand to your face, “how many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two?” you lied. He had all five fingers up.

“I know you see my whole hand is sitting right in front of your face right now,” he rolled his eyes.

“Actually, I don’t. That’s why I said two,” you stuck your tongue out at him before redirecting your attention back to the sky. “Do you think the moon ever gets lonely up there?”

Jungkook followed your line of vision to the sky above where the moon still sat all by itself, “I’ve never actually thought about it but I think everything and everyone can feel lonely once in a while.”

“I think I’m like the moon.”

His voice was soft, “in what way?”

“I guess—“ you battled with all the words crashing against each other in your brain, “in the sense that compared to Earth and most planets, the moon is so small right?”

“Yes.”

“I just feel like that. You know? Like a single grain of sand in a sandbox — feels like I’m an ant in a world of giants.”

“While it is true that the moon is fairly small in comparison to most of the planets in our solar system,” he began. “It is also a beacon of light. Without the moon our nights would be composed of utter darkness, the ocean tides would fall and the course of the life we know would be altered. Without the moon our lives would be shit.”

“Right.”

“Small yet consequential. You get that?”

“I do.”

You told no fib. His words were a warm blanket of solace wrapping itself tightly around your figure — serving as a shield, protecting you from anything that could perforate through your being; your soul.

Your parents had always been the main assailants in the attacks you had experienced throughout your life. After your brother walked away from home they pushed you aside, neglected you and left you to raise yourself. They were never there for birthdays or the holidays or summer vacations or even just regular days. You were a thirteen year old girl alone not being able to decipher why all of their grief from your brother’ abandonment came at the expense of the love they claimed to have had for you.

All your life you tried to work out if you’d done anything wrong but you finally see that it wasn’t you. Their neglect was based on their inability to be parents before anything else.

So yes, you were like the moon. Small yet consequential.

Jungkook’s pinky brushed up against yours slightly as he traced random shapes on your skin; sort of like asking permission before actually holding your hand. You looked at each other and before you knew it he wrapped his hand to yours. The warmth radiating from him was soothing and like nothing you’ve ever felt before. If you were sure of one thing — it’s you never wanted him to let go.

You just wanted to stay there with him in that moment forever.

“Jungkook, you better shake off all that sand out here or you are forbidden from entering my room,” you threatened, which only resulted in a mischievous grin from the man and the sand to go flying in your direction as he purposely tried to get it on you.

“Is that all better?”

You snorted, brushing off any of the remaining sand he did get in you, “you are so mean.”

A week of summer adventures had graced your life for the better — Jungkook had burdened himself with the mission to get you to enjoy the wonders of the scorching summer months and he was succeeding. You have enjoyed all of it thus far. Even having the ocean sand in places where the sun doesn’t shine.

The schedule doesn’t cease and while your platonic relationship with Jungkook blossomed though you couldn’t completely shut out the feelings that sent your heart into a frenzy whenever he was near. You like him so bad, but your friendship with him was like a gem, a rare gem and you wouldn’t trade that for anything on this entire planet.

“You know what’s weird?” Jungkook walked out from the bathroom just as you finished getting dressed. One towel hugged his waist, while the other he used to dry his hair.

“Jungkook?” you yelped, “clothes.”

“Oh, come on, you saw all of this at the beach,” he pointed at his sculpted physique. You did and you were almost sent into cardiac arrest then — what makes him think you’d be any better off within the congested walls of your room. He was feet away near the bathroom door but it felt like he was just beside you.

“Whatever. .” you turned around trying to keep yourself busy with something else, something that did not involve gawking at him. “This wall—“ he noticed you weren’t looking, “this wall right above your bed it looks so fucking familiar.”

“Jungkook, you’ve been in here about a dozen times in the past week,” your body stiffened as you felt a nauseating flutter in your stomach.

“You’re right . .” your back was still turned towards him but you could hear the floorboards creak as he inched closer, “but that right there only confirms it. There’s also your voice, that birthmark sitting right below your bottom lip and not to mention your nail polish you always keep the exact same shade.”

“Jungkook—“

“Not very clever I’d say,” his chin rested on the nook of your neck, “especially we ended on becoming this close.”

You wanted to say something — anything but you couldn’t actually speak.

“After our first time on Eargasm together,” he whispered into your ear, “do you know how much I thought of you? Your voice was the only thing that has played in my head since then. I wanted. . needed to meet you. The girl behind the black screen.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since the day you went to get your card fixed at the student center,” he continued, “your voice is soft, euphonic, harmonious, even when you’re cumming. It’s easy to distinguish.”

You shuddered as a result of his dulcet praise, “I’m so transparent but your tattoos ratted you out especially the snake sitting right below your wrist.”

“Problem is I wasn’t trying to hide, doll.”

“You didn’t care?”

“I didn’t care.”

Turning around the two of you remained face to face examining even the tiniest of details within one another. The pale red tint on the apple of his cheeks matched the tone of his lips almost perfectly.

His lips . . they were so inviting. You were sluggishly levitating towards him before his words slammed at your brakes.

“I think we should get going,” Jungkook said standing by the door holding his keys out to you. Was he kicking you out of your own dorm? “You wanna wait for me in the car? I’ll be right down.”

“Uh—“ you were a bit taken back with disappointment and just a bit of confusion. Was he really oblivious to it? “Yeah, that sounds fine. Don’t be long.”

A million thoughts scrambled your brain on the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car as your eyes drifted off toward the sun disappearing into the horizon. Love was never your forte but if you were sure of one thing it’s that what you felt although unspoken was evident; crystal clear more so. So you replayed what had happened in your room time and time again to decipher when it all had gone to shit. Perhaps, he was in fact still angry about you knowing it was him all along. . But you’d apologized when joined you in the car and he reassured you that it was fine and he wasn’t mad.

Looking back towards the driver seat, Jungkook remained with one hand on the wheel and his eyes glued to the road ahead. Not a word escaped his lips. Why is it so difficult to figure out what men are thinking?

Once you arrived at the drive-in movie theater, Jungkook parked and quickly dismissed himself to buy snacks while you tried to find the station provided to be able to hear the movie and finally you did.

“Okay,” Jungkook opened the car door, taking his previous seat back on the driver’s side, “I got popcorn, cherry slushies and a bunch of gummies. I just guessed on everything hoping it wasn’t a complete miss.”

“Of course I like these. Thank you, Jungkook.” You’d like anything he brought back for you simply because it came from him, “You know, I thought this style of movie watching ceased to exist after the 90s.”

“Yeah, I guess there was a decline in popularity after the 90s. Now, in some places it is once again sought out as a popular summer activity.”

“That is evident,” you looked around at the packed lot out in front of you. You guys scored the very last spot in the very last row, “Do you come here often?” Only you knew the real undertones of that question. ‘Do you bring other girls here often?’ This is what you actually meant.

“Not often,” he took a sip of his slushie

“Not often,” you repeated under your breath with a residue of bitterness left in your tastebuds. You weren’t sure if your drinking had grown pungent or if his words simply landed a punch in your gut triggering your acid reflux.

Patience, patience and endurance. You’d neared your limit for both while your heart continued its call for Jungkook but he simply could not hear. Was he really oblivious to it? You wondered once again. Was the wailing just white noise to him . . Non-existent? Could he not hear it as loudly as you could? Because to you it was all you could hear, the only thing you could pay mind to. To you the movie was long gone and all you wanted was for him to notice you. Not simply as friends, but to embrace what you knew he briefly felt for you back at the dorm. To actually see you.

“Are you okay?” his hand slowly moved to shove some more popcorn into his mouth. His words were slack, almost as if he’d been put to function in slow motion, “do you not like the movie?”

You couldn’t care less about the fucking movie. ���The movie is fine.”

“Are you sure?” Was that concern in his voice? “I can get you something else from the snack bar,“ he reached for the handle, “let ne get you a water.“

“No,“ you held his wrist, “just stay please.”

“The snack bar is less than ten steps away. Are you sure you don’t want it?”

“I don’t want you to go.” You weren’t sure you were being clear so you tried your best to elaborate, “I know technically left my own room earlier but I didn’t want to and now I do not want you to go.”

You heaved feeling the pace of your quickening heart beating your chest. Then mumbled, “I left only because you asked me to but I wanted to stay with you.”

His eyebrows were furrowed as he tried to unscramble your inept confession. Soon his chocolate eyes dilated realizing the weight of your words.

“Like?” He asked, allowing his silence to fill in the gaps.

“Yes,” you confessed. “I wanted to stay in my room with you and spend the night together.”

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. Truthfully, I wanted you to stay but I didn’t want to overstep after we talked about the Eargasm thing,” He turned his head away from his hands gripping the steering wheel towards you in the passenger seat.

“I like you. I’ve liked you before Eargasm Jungkook,” you could’ve sworn the sky began plummeting down on you while you just sat amongst the deafening silence, with your heart poured out before you — and still Jungkook said nothing, “Uh, you know what forget I ever. .” you paused taking another look in his direction but Jungkook simply hid behind wide eyes, “actually, no. Scratch that. I like you but I’ll be okay.”

“You are much braver than me, you know,” he spoke quietly, “a lot of my life I’ve lived hidden behind JK and though he is my other half he is not truly who I am. He is much more courageous than I’ll ever be but you were brave so I know I owe you a reciprocation of the same transparency. I’ve liked you from the moment I walked into class that very first day and I’ve only fallen for you harder with each passing day.”

“Jungkook.”

He hummed.

“Kiss me.”

In the matter of seconds the two of you climbed over to the back seat — the clashing of your body heat drew sweat beads to cascade down your temples. Your attention was far off that though, instead you were lulled by the softness of his silken lips pressed against yours. You could feel the thud of your combined heartbeat in the way your bodies were pressed so tightly against each other. His palm resided by your waist as he continued tugging at your top.

He pulled away, keeping his forehead pressed against yours, “are you sure you want to do this here?”

You looked around feeling locked in by the tint of Jungkook’s car windows, “I’m sure.”

Before your back could meet his leather seat, Jungkook began pulling your panties down and pushing your denim skirt up past your belly button. Jungkook was always gentle whether it was with his words or his touch, that was the truth, and today was no different.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Jungkook’s usual dove eyes were now burning with hunger — desire. His hands rested on your knees and he began spreading your legs farther and farther away from each other causing your underwear to become soaked. You hadn’t really noticed how spacious the back of his car was until now, until he kneeled in front of you. His fingers traced the outline of your thighs as he reached under your skirt quickly pulling your panties down to your ankles.

You closed your eyes, melting back into the seat. The feeling came in waves you quickly realized. First, there was the anticipation as your body urged him to touch your body but he only allowed his digits to cloud over your cunt. Then, there was the taunting of his teasing touch where he would drag the pads of his fingers along your folds — a touch so agonizing you found yourself driving your hips against him for some relief.

“Come on, doll,” Jungkook cooed as two of his fingers sat at your entrance with no intention of moving, “I thought you were more patient than this.”

“I’ll be good,” you heaved, “I promise.”

“Promise?” He pushed past the muscle of your entrance quickly invading your insides and in that moment you could’ve sworn you were no longer in his car — instead you lived amongst the celestial body of lumineers lighting the night sky. Words poured out of you in the form of profanities featured by the moans you couldn’t seem to suppress the quicker he pumped in and out of you.

That was it. That feeling. You held on as if your life depended on it. There was nothing, nothing else that could claim your attention the way Jungkook was at that very moment.

“Oh, right there,” your nails dug into his shoulder blades as he reached the very spot in your insides which blurred your vision and caused your legs to shake just a bit, “j-just keep going right there.”

His lips quickly landed on yours for a kiss so torrid you could taste the remnants of his cherry chapstick on your tongue. Enveloped by the overstimulation of the kiss and his fingers inside of you, the remaining piece of string which held you together snapped and behind your eyelids all you saw were spots of flashing white lights.

“Jungkook. .” You waited just a moment to catch your breath before patting the seat right beside you, “come sit with me. Unwind.”

“It’s hard to think of anything else when you’re sitting right beside me looking like that,” he hummed, “ all fucked out when I’ve only fingered you.”

“Just. . trust me,” As soon as he sat you placed your hand on his chest climbing onto his lap placing your legs on either side of his, “will you do that?”

“I trust you.”

Even the mess Jungkook had already created in between your thighs you felt that concupiscent armor burning deep inside of you — it was like a wildfire you couldn’t extinguish. Jungkook’s hands landed on your waist, his grip was sweaty against your skin, he began you forward and backward on his lap. And you began reciprocating that movement at a rhythm equivalent to his.

The temperature continued to rise within the enclosure of his car and a mixture of his rough grunts and your pleased hums began to fill the space. His clothed cock and your bare clit continued to meet in the filthiest of ways yet you couldn't resist but cry out for more. You craved more.

“I-I need you, Jungkook,” you whimpered.

If you thought you’d known pleasure before there was nothing compared to the way Jungkook’s massive cock felt inside your walls. It’s as if his dick was personally crafted to slip into you. God, he wasn’t moving a single muscle — you weren’t either and still you couldn’t help the countless moans dripping right off your lips.

“Are you okay?” he asked, “can I move?”

“Please,” you cried out.

In being the embodiment of sin, Jungkook embraced his mercilessness as a result of your yelp when his cock rammed into you with a drawn out yet deep thrust. As he slipped in and out if you saw the way he almost pulled out entirely only to guide you back down harshly on his length. Over and over and over. Your head lulled back and you were sure your rolled eyes could recite the contents of the inside of your skull.

“D-don’t stop,” you choked out, placing a hand on the hood for support as Jungkook continued to have you at his mercy, “I’m so close.”

You couldn’t really see in the midst of the pleasure coursing through you but you could feel the way his warm lips landed kisses around your breasts while his hands caressed your sides.

“P-please don’t stop,” the car began moving along with his pace and you were sure the others around you were now aware of the events unfolding right beside them. But you didn’t fucking care. Jungkook’s hand reached down in between your thighs near the exact point where his length disappeared inside of you, and he began stimulating your clit — drawing out small circles. You were shaking with pleasure spilling a string of curses. This continued until you finally reached your peak through screams of his name and your juices coating his cock while he poured into you.

“Fuck,” you cried out sweetly as he pulled out, “that was amazing.”

“It was better than amazing.”

You laid your back against him as he wrapped you up in his warm embrace. The two of you were warm and sweaty, “so what’s on the itinerary for tomorrow?” You asked.

“We’ll go anywhere you wanna go. Together.”

“Together,” you smiled.

-

-

-

a/n: this is mildly edited sooo . . . thread lightly for any mistakes lol. Also, the smut is pretty average but my brain wasn’t working so sorry about that in advance <3

🔖: @shaybtsfoever @bjoriis @sharkipoonis @hoseokteardrop @ravensidea @skzthinker @cherryluvhobi

reblogs, likes, comments, replies are always appreciated.

[fbfh]

not an ask but sleeper build leo lives in my head rent free 😳

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

you are so fuckin real for this. no literally bc I just KNOW Leo is either gonna look one of two ways. he's either gonna be looking like this

or like this

and either way you're gonna be drooling. you're gonna be barking and foaming at the mouth. sometimes he just fuckin. picks you up like a little rag doll. it shakes you to your core every time. he LIVES for the look on your face when he just scoops you up and carries you around. it's not that you don't think he can, it's just so. hng. aughghhh. he. he's so. mmmmmm.

[wanderingblindly]

Lestappen + 9 or Landoscar + 6 maybe?❤️

oops! it's established relationship landoscar after hungary! which isn't I ever wanted to touch! prompts here :)

Upon Deaf Ears

"I just need a second," Lando mumbles, pushing past Oscar in the paddock – their shoulders clip; they ricochet. He keeps walking before he can hear Oscar's response, eyes focused intently at the ground. If he blinks, if he so much as deviates away from his path, he'll lose it. And he can't, not in public.

The media doesn't take kindly to his tears.

He slides between the hospitality doors before they open all the way; a pair of footsteps echo as he bolts towards sanctuary.

"Seriously, give me a minute," He tosses over his shoulder, quickly opening his driver room door and stepping in.

"We're not doing this," Oscar finally speaks, grabbing the edge of the door as Lando tries to close it – tries to separate them. They lock eyes, both hands on the door, both trying harder than they'd like to admit to resist the other's force. It's starting to bubble up in him, that sticky-hot anger that overflows from his cracks, boiling hotter when Oscar looks at him like it's a choice.

"Get out." Lando says bluntly, pressing harder against the door.

"No," Oscar takes a step forward, almost daring Lando to let go and jump away. He doesn't, he stands his ground – because isn't that the crux of the matter here? That he's apparently not allowed to do that anymore?

"Are you fucking deaf?" He bites, vision and voice starting to waver unconvincingly. And that just makes it worse, hands shaking with some horrible cocktail of adrenaline, rage, and embarrassment. "Give me a second and we do whatever you want, ok?"

He grinds his teeth, clinging to some hope that it'll stop his lip from quivering.

But Oscar doesn't move, still looking at him like he doesn't understand. What the fuck isn't there to get? Lando had rolled over, he'd bit the bullet and played the good teammate role. Actually, he hadn't tasted it – he'd felt it, he'd felt the fucking bullet go right between his eyes like a horse put down.

And Oscar doesn't fucking get it.

"We can talk about –"

"We can talk later." It's punctuated with a harsh sniff, Lando angrily rubbing his traitorous eyes with his free hand.

Oscar presses forward, shoving through the doorway and hitting his shoulder against Lando's – returning the favor that Lando didn't ask for. Incensed, Lando slams the door.

"Can't you just do what I fucking asked –"

"Thought we weren't following orders today?" Oscar raises a brow, and Lando can't help but feel like he thinks his endless composure makes him a better... racer? Person? His hands vibrate when he buries his face in them, pulling in a desperate, snotty breath through his nose.

"That's low." He exhales, lifting his head. His vision is swimming. "I did what they asked, I did it for you, actually."

"But –"

"And now you're here, when I asked you to fuck off, and you're here for yourself. See a – a fuck, god – see a pattern?" Lando's hiccupping by the end, fighting his lungs to spit the words at him.

"I'm not here for me, Lando." Oscar's voice is sharp, like acid on Lando's red-hot nerves.

"Then leave." He almost yells it, pointing at the door with a shaking hand, a palm shining with tears. "Then leave until I'm ready."

Oscar pulls in a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed. "I came to say I'm not sorry."

"Fuck you," Lando rips off his hat before Oscar can finish, chucking it at him with any strength he can muster. "I'm not sorry that no one gives a fuck about your –"

"I'm not sorry for winning," Oscar continues, taking a step closer. "But I'm sorry it had to hurt you. You know I never wanted to."

Lando stares as he moves another half-step nearer, closing the distance between them. Rooted by his rage, as if it's dug itself into the floor for lack of anywhere else to go, Lando lets him. He lets him walk closer, lets his nose touch his, lets him press a gentle kiss to Lando's cheek.

He lets Oscar taste his overflowing rage, lets him pull away with tear-slicked lips to match Lando's tear slicked palm – almost as if he slapped him across the mouth with it.

"If you didn't want to," He grinds out, hands balled into fists. "Then you'd get out."

Oscar nods, pressing one more kiss to another tear. "I will."

"And you won't come to my hotel room tonight."

"Ok."

"And you won't talk to me until I'm ready."

"I know."

Lando pulls in a deep breath, willing himself to push through it, to be better than Oscar. "So congratulations." It burns. "There, I said it. Now leave."

[fiddlepot]

Wondering what would happen if you asked kokushibo which pair of eyes to focus on, so here we go

This one's gonna be short. I'm kinda new to this, so pardon any issues with clarity if there are any at all.

That being said... I will be the supplier of kokushibo content since there ain't that much compared to the other moons SURPRISINGLY??? HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?

Kokushibo aka HIMOTHY

Uhh drabble under the cut lol

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈

Initially, he would've been caught off guard.

It was a question completely out of left field:

“Which pair of eyes should I focus on?”

Did you want to hear if he had a preference? It was an aspect he had never really contemplated; the existence of four additional eyes on his face was a peculiarity that didn't perplex him so much as it perplexed those in his vicinity, after all. Sometimes he forgot that was the case.

But as you sat in front of him, mirroring his upright posture with a disposition that burned with curiosity, he was reminded.

His face was unreadable, as per usual.. And at first, he didn't say a word. In the ensuing silence, you grappled with the realization that demons, in stark contrast to humans, never blinked... Which only served to do all but calm your nerves.

“...Middle.” He finally answered, “Focus... On the middle pair... Just like you would... Anyone else...”

His head dipped ever so slightly, and the middle pair of eyes seemed to narrow as if touched by a subtle hint of embarrassment at broaching such a topic. In truth, it hardly mattered to him which pair of eyes you chose to gaze upon, for they were unequivocally his—and that's all he was concerned about.

[moraxsthrone]

good timezone. i come bearing a humble gift to my fellow sister wife. have a good day <3

i saw this while brushing my teeth this morning and wanted to punch my fucking sink. 💀

IJJKKNNKGHHHN SISTERWIFE RIN! And a good daypart to you as well! 🧡

just for meeee??? 🥹👉🏼👈🏼 uuugggghhhhh him pulling his glove off with his teeth PLEASE I'M SO WEAK FOR THIS??

But also 👀😩😮‍💨 GODS now I’m thinking about the fact that you and zhongli have regular marking sessions. and i love how he's such a gentleman about it when he's still in full human form and composed.

(NSFW BTC. MDNI. MARKING. SCENTING.)

but once he starts moving inside you, what began as sweet little licks and nudges at your collarbone soon devolves into him flipping you onto your belly, pinning you beneath him as he mounts you. by the time his sweat-sheened chest is pressed to your back, he's got you by the nape of your neck, growling and drooling against your skin, his fangs holding you in place while he ruts into you with abandon.

you've already creamed his cock so many times, your body has gone limp at this point, perfectly content to let him have his way with you. to claim you. to mark you in whatever ways he sees fit. zhongli is your everything - just like you are his - and you trust him with your life. so you let him chase his release, your eyes rolling back at the sounds of his desperate grunts and deep, guttural groans as he owns your whole body.

you know he's close when his hips stutter against you and he quickly pulls out, and you can hear your slick as he jerks his throbbing cock behind you. a deep, blissful groan escapes him and zhongli's warm, thick cum streaks across your back in long, powerful spurts as he milks himself of his musk to lay his fresh claim. there's always so much, but he has to be sure that you've been properly scented. he won't be satisfied until you reek of his rich and distinctly pungent pheromones.

[viktorscane]

🐦‍⬛👑

‘in the bedroom after the war’

when technoblade left the dream smp. phil adjusted relatively quickly. after all, the two had spent plenty of time away from each other in the past and he knew it was only a matter of time before they would see each other again.

one thing he would never quite get used to though, was the quiet. while techno was never a super talkative person the creaking of the wooden floorboards, the mumbling to himself, the front door opening and closing often as the piglin hybrid went about his daily chores, the dogs barking, the scribbling of quill on parchment. all sounds that were inherently technoblade were suddenly gone.

the first few days were hard, a grief settling over phil’s heart as he tried to navigate the silence and understand why his closest companion left so suddenly. on the fourth day, though he awoke to the usual caw-ing of his crows outside. he rolls over, the sun streaming in through the window bathing the room in a beautiful pink and golden glow. it was peaceful and quiet as his new life typically was.

he stirs more and finally pushes himself up out of the large, empty bed. pushing himself down the stairs to the still smoldering fire. he throws a few logs on top, adding water into the kettle perched atop it. reminding himself to add only enough for himself, as he had been making enough to serve two the last few days.

he rubs his eyes sleepily, giving a crow a light scratch on the head as he passes it. it caws shrilly, staring pointedly at the seed bag in the corner of the kitchen. “i know, i know.” he mutters. “let me make my tea first, mate.”

he opens a cabinet to grab a mug from the shelf, he notices that most of the clean mugs were on the highest shelf. most of them being varying shades of red and pink, belonging to techno. phil sighs and pushes himself onto his tiptoes and reaching almost blindly to get one. the shelf buckles a bit under the weight and the closest mug tips and down it goes.

it hits the ground with a loud thud, phil swears and rubs his temple with annoyance.

dropza LOL dropza dropza OLD AGE LOL fallza E

he pauses, quiet voices echoing around his brain. he takes a step backwards looking around the room to find the source of the voices. only being met with more quiet chants of ‘PHIL!’

it took a moment for his tired mind to process that these voices existed in his mind, but were very much real. he wracks his brain for some sort of explanation, he hadn’t hit his head recently right? was the events of the last few weeks finally taking a toll on his psyche?

he listens to the chants for a second longer, the mumbling blended together mostly but some things stuck out to him. one phrase in particular was very very familiar.

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!

it was a phrase that techno mumbled to himself often and had mentioned that the voices in his head spoke that phrase like a mantra. from his understanding, when technoblade had ascended to godhood the voices were a side effect. they mostly rambled about whatever he was doing in the moment but they also helped him during combat to give him information about the other party. they were bloodthirsty and violent but techno always regarded them as a part of him.

phil bends down and picks up the mug, it remarkably hadn’t broken in the fall. he turns it over in his hands brushing the dust off of it. he runs his fingers over the crown that had been carved into the front of the clay. he remembered techno sitting down with his dagger on the steps of their home and working at the clay. it was clumsily made and the crown was crooked, lines shaky and uneven. but it was so inherently techno that it made phil smile fondly.

the voices rumbled on about what felt like nonesense in the background as phil sets it down on the counter, bracing himself against it.

he could only take this as a sign from his long time companion, friend and ally. sending his greatest assets to phil as if to tell him that he’s okay. his heart ached but he persevered, tipping the boiling water into the mug and adding the tea bag in. he pushes open the curtains, staring out the window towards the brilliant pink and gold that was slowly fading away from the sky as the daylight began to filter in.

“hello there, old friend.” he says softly.

[oftenlyshitposting]

"how old did you say your professor droid was?"

shin grunted when sabine had narrowly evaded her strike, the wooden bokken saber barely grazed sabine's nose. that's the second time sabine had to be grateful that they are not sparring with real lightsabers at the moment.

sabine strikes. "i don't know for certain, but i kinda remember him mentioning somewhere around..." the mandalorian jumped backwards when shin striked with aim towards her torso, huffing harshly. "uh, i think more than a few thousand years old."

shin halted in the middle of a strike, bokken raised mid-air. her eyes remains focused, but sabine deciphered the slight widening of her eyes indicates shock and/or confusion. sabine wants to bet its both.

"a few thousand years old." shin repeated, slowly.

sabine nodded. "yeah. he's as old as the jedi order itself, if not more."

shin drops her stance, her bokken slowly returning to her side in a manner of ending the sparring. she huffs, curt and sharp. "i suppose that explains it..."

sabine quirked a brow, leaning onto her bokken. "explains what?"

"how he knows of my master."

"oh," was all sabine managed to say in response. "i guess he taught your master how to build a lightsaber too, back in the days. huyang said his design is pretty unique." sabine then nods at the wall of lightsabers in the training floor, specifically at shin's old lightsaber. "just like yours."

"i was not taught in the temple," shin reminds sabine.

sabine laughs, nodding. "yeah, i know. it doesn't mean you don't carry the same unique lightsaber. yours even had a little more personality."

shin tilts her head, muttering, "i crafted it myself."

"i know." sabine reached at shin's lightsaber, the hilt flying gently into her palm. she studies the well crafted hilt; shin's first weapon. "it's still beautiful."

"even when i used it to stab you?" shin's voice is level, but her tone was teasing.

sabine laughed, shaking her head. she returned the lightsaber back to the wall, next to her old one. her padawan lightsaber, the gift from ezra. both shin and sabine had retired their old lightsabers when ahsoka concurred their apprenticeship. it was only a few cycles ago when ahsoka had knighted them as jedi knights and cut off their padawan braids.

shin crafted her own new lightsaber, finding an appropriately bonded kyber crystal in huyang's collections, much unlike her first lightsaber's crystal of kohlen. both her and sabine held their breaths as shin ignited her new lightsaber, and gasped when the blade emits a brilliant yellow hue; almost golden.

sabine focused on building her new lightsaber the next day, only slightly nervous under ahsoka's eyes. she felt a particular crystal in huyang's collections calling to her, and ahsoka encouraged her to bond with the crystal. she never really thought anything when she ignited it the first time, expecting a bright blue hue like ezra's, or even the same green as her old lightsaber. her eyes widen when it emits a striking violet, the blade humming confidently.

ahsoka nods proudly at her padawan, congratulating the two newly knighted jedi knights. shin thanked ahsoka with a grateful smile, while sabine was beyond ecstatic and was jumping around with her new (and a pretty one, at that) lightsaber.

ahsoka's voice crackles through the comms, earning their attentions. "sabine. shin. hera's on comms."

"c'mon," sabine nods at the cockpit, "sounds to me like there's gonna be a new mission."

shin nods, following closely behind sabine as they entered the cockpit. hera's hologram projection stands in their comms, while ahsoka and huyang are sat on the seats. hera nods at the two young jedi knights with a smile.

"hera! what do you got for us?" sabine asked as she leans between ahsoka's and huyang's seats, shin peeking from behind her shoulders.

"ezra had new intel on rogue imperial remnants activity, and we're going to investigate it further," hera briefs carefully, continuing with, "i hear whispers of shady clonings ongoing on that base, some kind of ambitious project to imbue the force into these clones. from ezra's intel, this group is continuing moff gideon's works."

"moff gideon." sabine repeats the warlord's name with a distasteful hiss.

hera nodded, almost understandingly. "we should assume there will be hefty and nasty resistance from them, so gear up. we'll rendezvous at home one, i'll be taking the ghost and my fleet with you."

"a joint operation?" shin spoke from behind sabine, inquisitive.

"yes. senator organa had just approved the mission. we're clear to go."

"i love that woman," sabine remarks excitedly, earning a questioning head tilt from shin, and a collective amused look from both ahsoka and hera. "uh, i mean, she's just so... y'know..." the mandalorian flustered instantly, backtracking awkwardly.

ahsoka laughs, shaking her head amusedly whereas hera merely sighed visibly from the holo. sabine groans as she facepalms herself from embarrassment. shin doesn't say anything, but sabine didn't even need her to, because she can sense her amusement in the force.

"anyways," sabine drags with a final exhale, mitigating her embarrassment, "go on, hera?"

ahsoka jumps in instead, "you two should get ready. we're already en route to home one's coordinates."

shin tilts her head, confused, and was about to offer some kind of input, when sabine grabs her hand and drags her out of the cockpit. the mandalorian had a faint knowing smirk on her face but didn't tell shin anything until they returned to the bunks to prepare.

sabine tossed shin's new vambraces, at the blonde. "you wanted to say something?"

shin hums, observing sabine. "yes, actually. why did you pull me out?"

"vambrace check. adjust shields?" sabine calls instead, adjusting her own as she waits for shin to copy, amused when shin sighs and began setting up her vambraces.

"shields adjusted." two pairs of energy field shields emits from shin's and sabine's vambraces. shin also checks the weaponries inside her vambraces, making sure everything is in top shape. "what is your rocket count? mine is on three."

sabine taps on the little screen on her right vambrace, replying, "i'm on five. if we need to use 'em, i'll shoot first."

shin nods, before shifting her weight on one leg. "okay. now, will you tell me why you dragged me out of the cockpit?"

sabine grins, mischevious. "well, if you missed it, ahsoka kicked us out to chat with hera."

"okay...?" shin doesn't quite get it; doesn't ahsoka chat with hera all the time? sabine shoots her a look, which doesn't really help shin understand anything.

"you're so adorable when you're confused like this," sabine said with a laugh as she clasp shin's new pauldrons on her shoulders. "ahsoka looks at hera like she wants to raise jacen together."

shin tilts her head, processing. sabine lets out a silent chuckle, amused by the blonde's clueless face. the mandalorian had to hold back a laugh when the gears in shin's mind appear to finally click, the same time she finished clasping on shin's custom-made beskar alloy breastplate.

"oh," shin muttered, the exposed tips of her ears dusted in soft pink, "that... made sense."

sabine shakes her head softly, landing a small kiss on shin's temple. she adds, "you are so endearing, cyar'ika," that made shin's eartips grew pinker, as the mandalorian made her way to the cockpit after ahsoka's voice crackles through the comms to summon them back.

if sabine had missed it, shin was thankful.

ahsoka and sabine were getting ready to punch in the coordinates for the hyperdrive jump, shin and huyang were sat behind to re-check everything else to ensure all are well. once sabine had cleared to jump, ahsoka initiates the hyperdrive sequence to home one's point. they arrived in a short count of leaps, as the fulcrum's position was not that far beyond from home one's system.

once ahsoka and sabine landed the t-6 ship in the landing bay, shin and ssbine descended the ramp not too far behind the togrutan jedi master. up ahead, the general of the new republic's fleet stood, a welcoming smile adorning her battle-hardened face.

"general syndulla," ahsoka greets, tone slightly teasing in contrast to the formal salutations, "always good to see you again."

hera sighs, shooting ahsoka a look (sabine dubs it THE look, which shin never really understood what it means but plays along anyways), "you too, 'soka." she turns her gaze to the younger jedi knights, "sabine, shin. great to see you two as well."

sabine goes in for a hug, full-bodied and warm. she then cheekily quips, "it's been a while, hera. don't you miss us?"

"well, i've already got ezra and jacen tag-teaming with chaos in this ship," hera laughs, "so, i wouldn't say i miss your shenanigans by that much, 'bine."

"oh, i'm wounded! woe becomes me!" sabine dramatically returned, placing a mock-distressed hand on her temple as she leans against shin's shoulder. ahsoka merely shakes her head at her antics, while hera chuckles in amusement.

shin, partially playing along, pushes sabine in faux disgust as she mutters, "you are too dramatic, even for a mandalorian."

"woe! woe! backstabbed by own comrade!"

"i stabbed you once, on your stomach."

hera and ahsoka laughed at shin's dry humour, recalling their first meet, while sabine pouted as she mumbles, "that's supposed to be my card to use."

the general brought the fulcrum crew to a meeting room to go over their plans and to contact ezra, as he was still commandeering his own recon unit at their target location. they were set to dispatch two five-pilot x-wing squads under the ghost and the fulcrum as the respective leaders.

hera and ahsoka are to command the ghost, while sabine and shin are in charge of the fulcrum. sabine flashes a smirk at shin, which was responded with an exasperated sigh. shin takes out ten credits out of her pocket to hand over towards sabine.

"told you."

"i cannot believe you bet for this."

sabine shrugs. "you played too, cyar'ika."

"what are you two up to?" ahsoka questions, arms crossed in front of her.

"just a lil' bet," sabine pockets the credits, mischevious, "on how the teams are split."

hera eyes ahsoka, an inquisitive kink of her brow was responded with a shrug. she asks, "what bet?"

"ten creds i say you and ahsoka are teaming up together." sabine shot the older women a knowing look, smirking when ahsoka returned with an exasperated face. she points her thumb back at shin, "this one wasn't buying it."

"for the record, i did not participate willingly."

"you are ridiculous," ahsoka sighed.

"i don't get it?" hera was still lost, not quite understanding the bubble they are in.

sabine laughs, while the togrutan jedi master shakes her head to dissolve the atmosphere. "ignore her."

shin blurts out, "sabine says ahsoka and you act like you would raise jacen together."

hera's eyes widen, as ahsoka slow turns towards a cackling sabine and a flustered shin, incredulous. "you two are unbelievable."

to her credit, shin did appear guilty as she shifts her eyes down and mutters, "i am sorry."

sabine ceases her laugh, wiping a tear from her eye, "oh, gosh. that was peak entertainment for me. sorry, guys. it just had to be said; you two are horrible at hiding your pinings for each other."

shin might be hallucinating, but she swears ahsoka's and hera's face grew a shade darker as they avoid each other's eyes.

"to be fair, ahsoka did better than sabine back then. she used to look at me like she would leave the jedi order and devote herself to me instead."

hera's eyes widen for the second time, ahsoka mirrors the general's reaction as well upon hearing the blonde's admission. sabine had stopped laughing, frozen in her stand while seemingly all the blood in her circulation spreads slowly on her face.

ahsoka, after regaining the room from sabine, turns to sabine with an amused expression, teasing, "devoted to a fellow padawan, are you?"

sabine sputters, losing brain to mouth coordination as her face is almost as red as her pilot jacket.

"at least, that was what huyang told me," shin added, her voice deceivingly innocent, though the thin smirk ghosting her lips tells otherwise.

"my, my, sabine," hera joins, arms crossed in a delighted manner, "you've come a long way from your planet-skipping womanizing tour, huh?"

"womanizing tour?" shin parroted, intrigued.

"okay, that is our cue to leave!" at that, sabine suddenly regained her motor functions as she grabs shin by the arms and drags her back towards the landing bay. she shouts back, "see you in ten, guys!!"

shin was amused the whole trek back to the fulcrum, watching sabine distractedly sets up the ship. the mandalorian's face was still pinkish and her energy remained flustered.

shin teases softly, "you are very antsy, commander."

sabine's ears grew red at the nickname, and shin was looking forward to seeing that reaction.

"we are not having this conversation."

shin steps in front of sabine, tilting her face to meet hers by the chin. "not now, we won't. but, we will."

sabine swallows, eyes crotchety, yet nodding anyway. she managed to rasp out, "yeah… okay…"

"that's my girl."

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

Wednesday 100: Assurance (1x06 au)

Claire barely recalled the ride back from the British outpost, the Captain’s words after delivering the blow to her stomach haunting her.

“I trust you’re not with child, Madam. If you are, you won’t be for long.”

She was early enough in her pregnancy that a blow like that likely wouldn’t cause her to miscarry, but if she did…

Tears clouded her vision. When she’d realized she was pregnant, it only had complicated matters — another secret to keep close to her chest. But now, despite her situation, she would do anything to ensure the baby’s safety…

Even marry a Scot.

[thelightsandtheroses]

1.5: You're face to face with the man who sold the world

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader.

Word Count: 1k Drabble Summary: The morning after meeting you at your insomnia bench, Joel and Ellie meet Tommy for breakfast and Joel reflects on his life in Jackson and the opportunities it presents for Ellie. Warnings: TLOU Part 1 plot spoilers, implied angst, introspectio, no other warnings come to mind, this is very much just some Joel introspection and me starting to delve into his perspective. You do not need to have read Your Hand In Mine to understand this but if you're reading the fic it bridges chapter 1 and 2. Notes: This is my very first drabble and a bit of an experiment for me and has helped me through a little writing block. The next full chapter will be coming soon and will include lots of interaction between the reader and Joel. Drabble title from the song Man Who Sold The World by David Bowie/covered by Nirvana (this is the version I personally love)

Series List | Chapter One |

Joel observes as Ellie takes another forkful of food, her gaze rising to watch him for a second before turning her attention back to her meal.

Change hasn’t always meant great things for Ellie. Jackson has been a big adjustment. She’s back at school after almost a year on the road, after everything they endured there. It’s her first time in a school not run by FEDRA though, her first time living in a community like this.

Joel still remembers Before, but he knows Ellie has no point of reference here. He’s never truly thought about that before, about the way this world looks to kids born after the outbreak. He’s been too lost in his grief and survival to ever think about things like that, but now he thinks about it all the time.

He takes a forkful of his own food, trying to stifle a yawn. Ellie doesn’t need to know he’s not sleeping; he doesn’t need her worrying about him. Colorado was bad enough. He’s supposed to look after her. That’s why he bought her here after Salt Lake City.

From the corner of his eye, Joel notices Tommy walk into the hall. Tommy raises a friendly hand before getting his own portion of food and joining them as your earlier words echo in Joel’s mind.

Heard you and Tommy are good on patrol …

Years ago, Tommy abandoned left him in Boston. He made it clear that the way they’d survived haunted him and whether he said it or not, he blamed Joel. Probably still does. 

Joel can carry that though. It’s okay. He kept his brother alive, didn’t he? So, as far as he’s concerned, he did his job and maybe there were better ways, but he worked with the tools he had at the time.

‘Hey Joel, Ellie,” Tommy says cheerfully.

“How’s it going?” Joel asks.

“It’s good, it’s good.” Tommy pauses. Despite his bright exterior, Joel recognises his sleep deprived eyes. His brother’s expression is one he remembers well from when Sarah was a baby. It’s strange to see it mirrored on his baby brother’s face now; a sign of how much time has really passed.

“Yeah, you look like it’s real good,” Joel says wryly. “Baby keeping you up?” Tommy’s a father now. Joel wishes it didn’t tear a little piece of his heart apart each time he looks at his niece’s face, but it does. It should be a blessing not a wound, but it cuts him so deeply.

She’s like Sarah, but she’s not Sarah. 

“She’s sleeping a little,” Tommy retorts quickly.

“Oh yeah?” Joel asks, raising an eyebrow at Ellie who fails to stifle her own laugh.

“Yeah.” Joel remembers how when his niece was born, Tommy had boasted she was sleeping already, that she was going to be a good baby.  Joel didn’t quite have the heart to warn him this was common, that she was unintentionally lulling him into a false sense of security.

His brother has made a life here. Maybe Joel can do the same, maybe it isn’t too late. He can feel that promise of hope, something he can hardly even remember from before.

The last twenty years have been built on violence, threat assessment and mitigation. They’ve been about survival and nothing else.

Until now.

Jackson is the first place Joel thinks he might be able to breathe. If there weren’t the continual ghosts of what he’s done,  the fact he’s keeping the truth about what happened at that hospital from Ellie.

He’d do it again for her though.

Every. Damn. Time.

It doesn’t make it any easier to sleep at night though.

  He didn’t expect to run into anyone when he left the house this morning. In Boston when he didn’t sleep, there were pills and alcohol, but it’s different now. He just needed to clear his head, walk around a little so he didn’t disturb Ellie.  He’d found the bench a few days before, but he could never have anticipated you being there too, or that either of you would start talking.

When Joel looks across the hall, as he listens to Ellie and Tommy talking, he notices you’re walking into the hall as if his thoughts had somehow summoned you.

He watches you smile broadly as you sit with two men and a teenage boy. You’re deep in conversation, a faint smile on your face as you collect your food and your group sit a couple of tables away from Joel’s family and dive into an animated conversation.

When Joel next looks over, you tip your head slightly as you laugh, bare a tiny bit of throat. He shouldn’t notice that.

You’re both the same and completely different to the woman he met on the bench last night. He notices you stifle a yawn when you think no one is looking, the only hint he’s seen that you’re hiding something from your group.

There’s something about you, about the conversation you shared that is drawing him in like a siren’s song.

He could ask Tommy about you. He could find out more about who you are, who you’re with, the life you lead outside of a bench in the middle of the night. Seeing you with your group, he recalls vague introductions and details from when he first came to Jackson. You’re something to do with the library? He can’t remember the links between the two men and you, but he recognises enough of you in the teenage boy to make the connection that he is clearly a relative of some type.

It doesn’t feel right to ask for information though. He’s curious, but something in Joel tells him that if he wants to get to know you, the real you, then all he needs to do is walk over to that bench on another sleepless night.

“Everything okay?” Ellie asks, looking up from her plate with a frown. “Joel?”

Tommy looks over at Joel then, raises an eyebrow with a silent question.

“Sure, kiddo. Hey, did you say you found a new book on space the other day?”

“Yeah, I did,” she says animatedly, “It’s really cool actually. The library here has a lot of books that weren’t in my old school library. Plus, they have DVDs, Joel. DVDs!”

Joel can’t help the way his smile widens as he listens to Ellie continue to talk. Everything he did between Boston and Salt Lake City; it was worth it for this.

He can feel hope setting root in his body, unfamiliar and strange. Maybe change is a good thing.

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[golden-buddle]

I want to write. More cryptid Batfamily stuff. But I have no idea what to write.

[fbfh]

Hi! Would you mind writing Logan Huntzberger with a reader who comes from a family with a bunch of traditions? (Aka me lol) For example, my family has a tradition of Friday night date night for my parents. When we were little, my brother and I would go sleepover at my Papa's house but once he passed when I was 13, my brother and I started having movie nights while my parents are on their date (more often than not they stay at home, but it's still super sweet). Then, on Saturday mornings my Mom and I wake up bright and early to go to the farmers market, my Dad always leaves out twenty bucks along with a note so that my Mom and I can buy ourselves each a bouquet of flowers. When we come back home, we make chocolate chip pancakes and slather peanut butter and nutella all over them. Sundays are lazy days. No friends or visitors allowed. My Mom has a pretty strict no one leaves the house rule; it's family time and relaxing day. We get to sleep in as late as we want and have sugary cereal for breakfast. We usually spend the day watching movies, playing outside, and playing board/card games together. It's just really chill in my house on the weekends, and I think Logan could really benefit from having a girlfriend who is so chill and relaxing. I can just imagine you inviting him home with you, and him being so chill and smiley playing board games and walking around the farmer's market.

Also, Logan would be so down to have weekly date nights. A designated evening for him to spoil you rotten? Sign him up!

OH MY GODDDDDDDDDD LOGAN LOVES IT. once he gets real down bad and obsessed with you (which does not take long at all) he makes plans to surprise you with some fancy date or something and you're like "oh shit I can't! that's movie night. so is the friday after that and after that perpetually and indefinitely :/" he's cool with it and trying to mentally juggle things and reshuffle schedules cause you ARE his priority and you're like "but you can join us if you want!"

Logan had no idea you had a brother. he also realizes he came horribly over dressed and has never really experienced a quiet causal family hangout. he loves his family but his parents are usually off at fancy galas or fancy fundraisers or fancy business events and Honor has been obsessed with planning her wedding and making it perfect since before she was even in a relationship. his friends are more let's go get waisted off liqour that could pay off someone's college tuition types. he loves all of them - his friends, his family - but he's never really been in any "let's hang out all quiet and cozy and sober at home" circles. it's so nice, so refreshing to do that with you. your brother laughs at how overdressed he is, and you bring him upstairs to dig around for something comfy for him. one pair of sweatpants and an old summercamp t shirt later, the three of you are curled up in the living room, surrounded convenience store snacks and frozen pizza, half way through your double feature - now a triple feature, since you and your brother insist Logan picks the next movie. he relents as you all disolve into laughter, and pulls you closer to kiss you while your brother fake gags at the sight.

"this is... the best night I've had in a long time." Logan tells you quietly, a vulnerable, intimate tone in his voice, and you understand how much this, this inclusion and acceptance and normalcy means to him.

"good." you reply, smiling, "cause you're staying all weekend. I hope you like mickey mouse pancakes and cleaning while my parents blast cher."

he laughs and agrees.

"I think I can handle that."

you snuggle back into him as the next movie starts.

"just wait till I tell you about date night."

[rmd-writes]

Word and a pairing:

Alex/Henry, public transit

I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get to this! Here's a tiny drabble AU for you:

There are plenty of things to dislike about the London public transit system, but Henry’s regular commute does have its benefits. Every day Henry sits on the bus and watches it fill up until the beautiful man gets on. Inevitably, the bus is full and Henry is greeted with the spectacular view of the man’s arse at eye level. A daily treat. It never occurs to Henry to do anything more than enjoy the view. Until one day, the driver brakes particularly forcefully and Henry finds himself with a lapful of the beautiful, curly-haired man. “Well, hello sweetheart,” he drawls.

[serenescribe]

hi hi Ell 👋 I wanted to send a prompt, so i hope youll find this one nice to think about :)

So we know in canon that Lilia trained Silver and Sebek while they were kids, and that his training was a bit unorthodox to say the least. We also know that Silver thinks the world of his father, that he feels indebted to him for life and that he'd give anything to repay that debt. With those facts I offer you a beloved scenario of mine where Lilia trains Silver and takes it too far but doesn't realise it until its too late.

Maybe he's making him spar, maybe he's asking him to do some insane physical effort, whatever it is he's determined to have Silver execute it perfectly. And Silver is tired, because he's like 12, he's been doing this since dawn and he barely ate any of the lunch his father made him (lets face it it wouldve been worse if he ate it). At this point his body is screaming at him to just stop and rest but he refuses to back down before he gives his father what he wants. The issue is that since he's not feeling his best, he's actually doing worse than he was at the beginning and Lilia of course notices. And maybe its the fact that this setting is similar to the one he was in back when he trained recruits as a general, or maybe he got frustrated that he couldnt manage to get him to do better but Lilia decides to try a different approach to motivate his son. He gets mean; taunting and berating Silver for not making any progress, telling him that maybe they should just stop his training altogether if this is the best he can do. But instead of getting fired up and angry like Lilia expected, like his recruits used to do, Silver completely breaks down. He slumps on the ground in front of him weeping, begging for just one more chance and promising he can do better. The mental and physical exhaustion weighs heavily on him and he swears he won't be a burden in future sessions, swears that he'll train day and night if need be to improve but he pleads his father not to give up on him. And Lilia, completely caught off guard by the situation, has to figure out how the hell to comfort his son and convince him that he didnt mean any of the words he spoke

hope you have a fun time writing bye bye!! 🌟

the way this prompt broke my heart when it first hit my inbox :') but at least it's hurt/comfort for once rather than flat out angst...? i hope i did it justice!

(also thank you to lacky my beloved for helping me with some dialogue bc oh my god writing mean dialogue killed me ;;; sobs)

Clang!

The sound of sword against sword reverberates through the air, accompanied by the haggard, weary sound of someone panting. Lilia narrows his eyes, his sword still outstretched, pressed against that of his opponent — his son, Silver, who is also his student.

Silver’s chest expands and contracts, lips parted as he sucks in another deep breath. The practice blade in his hand trembles before finally, he gives in. The sword drops to the ground below with a clatter.

“I yield,” Silver says, voice strained, dropping to his knees. He raises his arms, conceding in defeat.

But all Lilia can think, staring at his son before him, is that this is not good enough.

He knows what Silver is capable of, has been training his son by his own hands for the past few years. Silver shows plenty of promise, and it is up to Lilia to hone that potential to a perfect sheen, be it physical training or weaponry, such as the sword fights they practise so often. Lessons on survival, giving him tasks to complete in the elements. Things that Silver takes to like a duck to water, obediently heeding Lilia’s every word, carrying out his instructions with ease.

So to witness him concede so easily, dropping to the ground, averting his gaze as his body trembles?

Lilia is disappointed.

In a way, it reminds him of his days as the general during the wars he’d fought. There had been many a soldier who had not taken his instructions seriously, always putting in the bare minimum until he whipped them into shape. All he had to do was set his cold, calculating eyes on them, lips spouting cruel, judgemental words, before they’d be roaring to go. Pride is one of the things that the fair folk value deeply, after all, and back then, the many recruits under his command had not taken kindly to Lilia’s implications that they were as useful as the dirt under his heels.

And so Lilia opens his mouth, and says:

“If this is the best you can muster, then why bother?”

Silver stiffens.

“I’m disappointed, Silver. I’ve seen peasants with no training do better than this.” Lilia’s lips thin, a hand resting on his hip, practice sword still hanging from his other hand. “If you cannot even master the basics, how do you expect to get any better? No, better yet, how do you possibly expect to guard Malleus as his knight if this is the best you can do?”

Lilia’s eyes narrow as he drops into a crouch, arms folded across his knees as he meets his son’s wide eyes.

“I didn’t teach you to be this awful,” Lilia utters, voice entirely flat. “If this is the way you’re treating your training, then perhaps we ought to stop it altogether.” He curls his lip. “Is that not what you’d prefer, given your demeanour?”

Rising from the ground, Lilia holds out his sword, pointing the tip of the blunted blade towards his son’s crouching form.

“I shall allow you one last chance,” he breathes. “Pick up your sword, Silver. Get up now.”

Silver doesn’t respond.

Lilia clenches his teeth. “Pick it up!”

It is only then, when Silver uncurls himself to reach for the discarded blade at the side with trembling hands, that Lilia falters. He watches through widening eyes as Silver raises his head and, instead of the fiery enthusiasm and determination he saw so often in so many of his old soldiers, there is a watery desperation wavering in those big, auroral eyes. Silver’s lips tremble, his movements sluggish, and as he shoves himself onto his feet, Lilia realises—

Silver isn’t being lazy. He’s swaying from side to side, almost stumbling over his own feet, shaking uncontrollably as he raises his blade to meet Lilia’s own.

Oh, he realises, spotting something glistening along those rounded cheeks. Silver is crying.

In that instant, any trace of General Vanrouge, feared and renowned amidst those of the Valley, vanishes, dissipating in the blink of an eye. Left in its place is only Lilia Vanrouge, father of one.

His sword drops to the ground with a clatter. Lilia surges forward, any thoughts of training pushed squarely out of his mind as he wraps his hands around Silver’s shoulders, staring at him with his heart rattling against his chest. Shit, Lilia thinks. He’s well and truly fucked up now, hasn’t he?

“Silver,” Lilia starts, struggling for the words. What can he possibly say here? He reaches up, wipes away a stray tear that rolls down his son’s cheek. “Silver, you— you can drop your sword now.”

“No!” The outburst startles him, Silver’s usually quiet disposition interrupted by the force of his refusal. Silver all but collapses, pulling Lilia down with him; his knees buckle, and he hits the ground with a painful thud. Silver’s free hand reaches up to wipe at his tears to no avail. “I-I can do it! I can fight—”

“You can’t, Silver—”

“P-Please, just—” Hanging his head, Silver sobs brokenly, and it shatters something within Lilia. How had he not noticed all along, how absolutely exhausted Silver was? “J-Just give me one more chance,” his son begs, shaking his head. The grip on his sword loosens, causing the weapon to clatter to the ground. “I swear, I’ll train day and night to improve, I w-won’t be a burden anymore, please—”

“Silver,” Lilia repeats, voice firm, fingers curling tight around his son’s shoulders. He— he’s taken completely aback, caught off guard; he’d expected something akin to the fiery resolution of the soldiers of the past, not… not this.

Silver is twelve, a tiny part of Lilia remembers. His heart seizes again, a reminder that perhaps this time, he had gone way too far. Silver is young, and for Lilia to have treated him the way he would have treated a grown fae…

He’s not the general anymore. There’s no need for him to train Silver to such rigid standards.

Slowly, Lilia leans forward, wrapping his arms around Silver’s back. He pulls the sobbing boy against his chest, murmuring soft words under his breath in a bid to reassure him. And for a while, that’s all they do — Lilia, holding his son in his arms, ignoring the ache in his knees as he rubs Silver’s back gently, and Silver, who blubbers apologies and pleads for leniency until his begging collapses into crying, and he buries his head in the fabric of Lilia’s sweat-stained shirt.

Eventually, when Silver’s cries peter out into a sniffling silence, Lilia pulls away from him. He reaches out to cup his cheek, thumbing at the tearstained skin with a sad smile across his lips. “How do you feel now, dear?”

Silver bites his lip, eyes flicking away. He sniffles, before he mumbles, “I… I’m okay now, Father. I can fight.”

“I think we’ve had enough sparring for today, actually,” Lilia sighs wearily. When he sees the way Silver stiffens at his words, he adds, “That is a decision made on my account, not yours. I am not disappointed in you, Silver. Far from it; I am only disappointed in myself for not noticing how exhausted you are… far more than usual, anyway.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Lilia chides, though his tone is light. He exhales. “I think we should perhaps clean up for the day. And then I’ll see to dinner, hm?”

“I’ll help you!” Silver blurts out, a little shakily, and Lilia smiles. Even after everything, Silver is still so willing to help… Truly, Lilia would not have faulted him at all if he would have liked to take some time to himself, especially after he so carelessly spouted such cruel words towards his son.

As Lilia rises to his feet, holding out a hand to help his son up, Silver meets his eyes. He hiccups. “So… you’re not mad at me…?”

“I am not,” Lilia assures, leaning in to pull the boy into another hug. “And…” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I am truly sorry, Silver, for pushing you that far. I should not have said what I did.”

And from the way Silver relaxes in his hold, pulling away to give him a small smile, Lilia knows that this will be enough, for now.

[diodellet]

Hihi Lili here, this is the first time I’m requesting something on here/ I'm not used to tumblr very much TT so i’m sorry in advance if I get anything wrong!!

For the valentine’s event would it be okay to ask for 1. w/ Jamil :3 and have she/her pronouns? As for a descriptors the only thing I really have for that is long black hair and warm brown skin if that’s alright :>

Also I just wanted to mention too, I absolutely love your writing especially the way you write Jamil it’s so so so good omg

💌Jamil Viper + Prompt #1 (“It feels… good to be around you.”)

The simple admission catches you both offguard, spills out into the dim silence of Jamil’s bedroom like moonlight.

You look up from your lap to meet his gaze in the mirror. He’s partway through fixing your hair into two braids, with the first completed one resting over your left shoulder. You can faintly detect the lingering fragrance of the hair oil that he applied beforehand. 

“I’m sorry?” Your pulse thrums erratic in your ribcage.

He clears his throat, but it does little to diminish the embarrassment in his voice. “Please forget I said that.” 

“No, no I didn’t mean to—I like being around you too…!” You turn to face him properly but he puts a stop to that action with a free hand planted atop your head, keeping your gaze pointed towards the mirror.

“Let—let me finish first.”

“...okay.” And you keep your head still, your nerves hyperaware of his touch and each gentle tug as he continues the braid.

“I didn’t mean to let that slip out, but I’ve been thinking about…this for a while now.”

Of course, there wasn’t any denying the fact that the two of you were in some kind of relationship, something deeper than friends but not as exclusive as boyfriend and girlfriend. Nevermind marriage, that was completely out of the question. Yet even something as amorphous as soulmates has crossed your mind more than once.

“And I realized that this hasn’t—that I haven’t—been fair to you. Especially if I keep being careless.”

Maybe that was part of the problem, that until this point, the both of you were careful not to disturb what you’d kept unspoken. That you merely followed his lead, folding yourself neatly along the boundaries that guided his life. That you left yourselves susceptible to moments of sudden openness.

“So you don’t have to keep playing along, I’ll understand.”

With a final twist of the hair band, his fingertips brush against your shoulders before pulling away.

Before he moves out of reach, your hand closes around his. “Jamil. ”

His expression is one of practiced calmness, but there’s a tinge of vulnerability in his irises that tears at you. “Yes?”

“Never put words into my mouth again.” And you grab him by the front of his shirt to pull him in for a kiss to punctuate that statement. If he got the wrong idea from that, well.

a/n: aaaaa ur too kind lili 🤧💕💕don't worry, ur doing absolutely gucci!! (belated) happy valentines!! thanks for sending in a request ahahahaha i think i got a little bit carried away with this one oops, either way i hope u enjoyed reading this💕💕