#MAN i wanna give myself another ear piercing

[lesbianpikachu]

.

[thatfreshi]

Little Stars and Such (Astarion x Reader)

It's here, the piercing fic, in which body-modded Tav gives Astarion hella piercings. I made a previous post with his piercing map in case you guys don't know the terms (I basically didn't until yesterday)

Tw - needles, implied sex

Recommended Song: Gregg's Woods - Alec Holowka

For the past couple of days, Astarion has been asking quite a few questions about your piercings. You had adorned your nose and face in tiny pieces of metal, all done by hand. Your little collection has grown over time, most recently with an eyebrow piercing once you settled down in Baldur's Gate once again.

"Do they hurt?"

"Like, when you pierce them? Yeah. You get used to it though. Surprised you don't have any honestly, elves are known for having the most elaborate piercings."

He stays silent for a moment, and you realize he wouldn't know that.

"Wasn't exactly a thing Cazador just let us do. Body modifications were mostly limited to demonic scars and being cut up for fun."

"Right... sorry."

"Don't be."

The conversation ended pretty abruptly, but picked up the next day while you were swapping out your nose ring.

"Do you ever get scared that your little ring will get caught on something and rip out of your nose?"

A sudden question, but a welcome one.

"I mean, sometimes, but not many people are that close to my nose. Unless you're planning on ripping out my piercing?"

You eye him suspiciously and he smirks.

"Oh, I would never."

This goes on for days, little prodding questions about all your accessories. One morning, while the two of you are lying in bed, you catch him staring at the helix on your ear.

"Astarion do you... do you want a piercing? Because I can do them. I mean I did these to myself."

"I've been thinking about it. I'm just a little nervous is all."

"Why my love?"

"I mean, I've never really had the freedom to do what I want with my body, in a lot of ways. That's one of those things I never got to explore, all the body modifications people are oh so familiar with. I suppose I could've done one with an embroidery needle if I was desperate, but that's just not something I had the liberty to think about."

You move a strand of hair out of his eyes.

"Well, you have the freedom to do whatever you want now."

"Then perhaps I'd like a couple."

"A couple? You don't wanna start with one?"

"Nonsense! One would be sad and pathetic, and we know I am a man of extravagance."

"Alright, if you insist."

You then grab a notebook sitting on the bedside table, and begin to draw out a plan for his piercings. Astarion insists that he only wants them on his ears, because he doesn't want anything to ruin his perfect face. As you're sketching, you continue to talk.

"You know this is gonna suck, right? Since your ears are so sensitive?"

"Sensitive? What makes you say that."

You blankly stare at him until he gives up.

"Okay fine, but I'm sure it can't be that bad!"

"I don't know. I mean I'm going to stab multiple holes through your ears. You barely like them being touched."

"I've been through enough pain. Nothing compares to jagged cuts in your back, I promise."

There are many moments like that, where he says something tragic that you just can't bring yourself to argue with. Without another word, he curls up against you, and the two of you discuss the options he has. Eventually, you settle on five on each side, because he INSISTED they be symmetrical.

"Tav, what kind of idiot would I look like if I had one ear with a bunch of shit on it, and one just, empty?"

"I guess you're not wrong."

He decides on two helixes, two lobe piercings, and a daith. You're a little surprised that he's going all out on this, but you don't mind. Everyone has that thing that lets them feel free, the thing they finally do to show the world 'I'm my own person.' Besides, if he didn't like them he could simply let them heal back up, forget this ever happened.

You go to grab your little makeshift piercing kit, full of fine needles you've collected over time, just in case you ever lose some.

"Now, you'll have to wear some of mine since you don't have your own earrings yet, but I'm sure you won't mind because my collection is amazing."

He sits up in bed, his shirt sleeve softly draping off his shoulder. If he could still be in the sun, you'd imagine a beam of light coming through the window right now, illuminating his face. You sit beside him, gently placing the box of needles by your feet.

"Alright, I'm gonna walk you through this as I do it, and if you want to stop at any time we can."

"Thank you my love."

The thought crosses your mind, that he'd probably not let any other soul on the planet do this kind of thing. Any time he's let someone else have control over his body, it's been riddled with sin and scars. But you? You've always been kind, soft, present. That's one thing he loves most about you, that he feels like he can be present. Not drifting off somewhere else, not closing off his mind to defend himself, not playing a chess match in his head. It's, easy. Life is easy now, and isn't that something wonderful?

"Alright, we're gonna start on the lobe. You feel the needle?"

You hold it lightly against his ear, and he shivers a little.

"Mhm."

"Alright, don't tense, but it's gonna hurt."

You hear the air escape through his teeth as the needle goes through. A pretty clean job if you do say so yourself.

"Well?"

You put in a dangling gold moon, waiting to see how he feels.

"Painful, but not horrible."

"Want to go again?'

"Of course."

He says it a little suggestively, and you give him a playful push.

"Save it for later imp."

You continue with his piercings, taking small breaks in between for conversation. You've continued adorning his ears with astral-themed jewelry, little stars and such. By the time you've finished the last one, you're quite pleased with your work. Astarion almost doesn't let you put the last earring in since he's so excited to see what you've done. He had Gale teach him mirror image a while ago, so he could finally see his reflection whenever he wanted. After casting it and giving his ears a look, he smiles.

Astarion laughs at your comment, giving one of those genuine smiles you used to rarely see. You silently curse the people that took that smile from him, wondering how anyone could see this specimen and torment him. He's like a pixie, a little trickster, someone you could pick up and hold forever. You know you're probably the only one who sees him that way, the only one who would call him cute, but he is. He enjoys it, being viewed as something that isn't devious or sexual, but a bright presence. You told him once how it's ironic that he can't be in the sun, because he was probably sunnier than the sun itself. He'd never let you tell anyone else that though.

"I... I think I quite like them."

"I do too. It's fitting."

You plant a kiss on his cheek.

"Worth the pain?"

"Most things are my love. Like you."

His hand meets your face, taking you into a deep kiss. When you break away, you whisper in his ear.

"I think they make you sexier too."

A chuckle under his breath, lips meeting again, and the morning is soon wasted away in bed. What a joy, to wake up every day with him, with someone living their life anew. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Neither of you know, but it's exciting none-the-less.

[lokis-army-77]

Satiate Me

Incubus!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 3998

The enticing and captivating singer of your friend's favorite band isn't what he seems to be.

Warning: 18+, Oral (f receiving), P in V, fingering, blood, biting, spit swallowing, squirting, multiple orgasms, manhandling,

The lyrics for the songs Eddie sings are from Breaking Benjamin's "Topless" and "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails, which I took the liberty of making the last line what it is for story purposes only.

Masterlist 

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

The club was crowded. Hot, sticky bodies were pressing up against one another in the darkness. Music played loudly from the speakers, some kind of dancing song I wasn't familiar with. 

I could feel hands grabbing at me as I tried to wade through the bodies grinding against one another. Brushing them off I kept on, trying to find my friends. I had lost them almost as soon as we had stepped foot into the overcrowded, dingy place. 

If it had been up to me. I wouldn't have picked such a questionable place to hang out, but it was Jess' turn to pick and her favorite underground metal band was playing here tonight so how could I have refused her? Even if I was coerced into wearing this skin-tight dress that left me feeling exposed. 

The flashing strobe lights were disorienting. People's faces looked normal one second and practically horrific years next when the lights shone brightly on them. It made it almost impossible to recognize anyone. 

The band would be starting any minute and knowing Jess would try to be front and center, I pushed and shoved my way to the stage. I still couldn't make out any of the faces of the people standing there so I waited, hands braced against the stage to keep me from being swept back up into the crowd. 

The stage was almost pitch black. It was hard to see any of the instruments or if there were even people preparing to play. 

Then with a rather startling flash of light and the shrill of a guitar, a spotlight had been turned on, and standing there, baiting in the harsh glow, was probably the most attractive man I had ever been fortunate to lay eyes upon. 

The first thing I noticed was the fact that he had on no shirt. The spotlight almost reflected off his pale skin only being interrupted by the patches of tattoos scattered over his slim torso. My eyes followed one piece in particular, a fierce dragon whose neck and wings wrapped around the man's hip, and the tail disappeared well below the waistband of his tight leather pants. Or were they latex? All I knew was that they were tight and left almost nothing to the imagination. 

Accompanying the tail was a trail of dark hair going from his navel down. I swallowed thickly wondering what could be below those very low-rise pants. 

The thing which pulled me from my naughty daydreaming was the husky sound of his voice. It sounded like pure sex and I was sure it was making me feel some type of way. Flicking my eyes up to his face my knees almost buckled at the sight. Wild brown hair surrounded his head and his face, God his face, looked like it had been carved by Michael Angelo himself. This man rivaled the statue of David and if I were to be the judge, he would be the winner. 

"Good evening ladies." The piercing cry of women's voices rang put through the room as he greeted us. I even found myself screaming as he peered into the now calmer crowd. 

"Good evening gents." And just like the women, the men erupted as he spoke. It was like he had some kind of power over everyone in the room. 

Then, he spoke again, mouth pressing up against the mic, muffins his speech yet making my ears strain to listen. "We're Corroded Coffin and we're here to give you a good time." 

The lights on the stage flashed red, illuminating the three other band members standing behind the singer. 

"What'd ya say, boys? Wanna give these nice folks a show to die for?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at his bandmates. 

The drummer called out from behind his kit, "Hell yeah, Eddie!" 

With that, the music started. It was loud. Louder than the music was when I had first walked in. Then it calmed down and the singer's voice, Eddie’s voice, came through. Sultry and captivating, it was like I was stuck in a trance 

Fruit on the vine

You've got yours

I've got mine 

Something in the way he was singing had my body moving. 

Meat on your bones

They won't know

They won't know 

I swayed on my feet, body writing in the hot air as I let his voice wash over me. 

I love your face

Just get away 

I couldn't remember why I was here anymore, my friends a thousand miles away from my thoughts right now. 

I'm on my knees

Fuck you, fuck me 

I couldn't take my eyes off him. He had me trapped under a spell and I sure as hell didn't want to escape from it. 

The show he puts on with his body as he sings makes my stomach flutter. The veins in his forearms protruding from his skin have me squeezing my thighs together. He was like a drug and watching him was only giving me the tiniest taste. I needed more. I need him. 

The song ends and they go straight into another one. A faster pace than before. The room kicked up, and people began dancing harder but I stilled. 

The singer's dark eyes were on me, practically boring into my soul. I felt naked under his stare like he could see everything inside and out. 

He kept staring as he started to sing the words to the new song and even though it was raunchy and sexy and something I would never do, the words seemed to speak to me. They planted ideas in my head. 

Thoughts of what he may sound like in bed filled my mind. How he'd feel pressed up against me. Whether he got as sweaty having sex as he did only performing two songs in the heat of a club. The thoughts themselves were enough to have wetness pooling between my legs. 

As Eddie sang I could feel the heat of my body rising, my blood was boiling and flooding over. God, I ducking needed him and it hurt to be just a few feet away from him unable to touch him. And like he could read my mind, he began strutting his way to the side of the stage I was standing. 

I watched, memorized, as he dropped to his knees his hand caressing down his body. He never lost eye contact as he practically crawled to the edge of the stage and took one of my hands in his. I almost couldn’t breathe as he sang the last words of the song. 

I wanna fuck you like an animal

It was like he was speaking directly to me. As the music faded away, whether it was because the band had stopped playing or because I was genuinely too distracted by the hot man moving closer to me to even hear it, I began to move closer to him. 

His hand slowly slid up my arm and came to a rest on my neck before he pulled me into him. Our lips pressed together in an instant and he swallowed the gasp I let out. He kissed me like he was hungry like he would devour me whole and I wanted it. I pushed into him taking what I wanted but then he pulled away and I could have sworn that in the dim light, those dark eyes of his had flashed red before returning to normal. I paid it no mind though, as I was too enamored with him being right in front of me.

He leaned in close to my ear, his lips soft on the skin there. “Meet me after the show.” 

Words had escaped me and my brain stopped working. It took all the willpower I had just to nod a simple yes to him. He stood back up with a smirk and went into the next song, another sexy melody. 

A handful of songs later, the exact number I have no clue they all started to blend together after he had kissed me, I was still standing in front of the stage. The crowd had dissipated, my friends still missing, and the music was quieter, at least from what it had been when the band was playing. I was supposed to meet Eddie after the show was over, but where, I had no idea. Staying put seemed like the best option and I was proved right when out of the corner of my eye I saw movement.

There in the shadows was Eddie, watching me like a lion watches its prey. Butterflies erupted in my stomach when I turned to him. He beckoned me to him with a finger, a smug look plastered over his face. 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here.” He greeted, eyes roaming up and down my body as I slowly came to him. “You look good enough to eat.” He licked his lips.

Before I could even think, the words were spilling from my mouth, “Yeah? Then why don’t you come have a taste?” 

“Bold aren’t we?” He laughed, hands finally grasping me and pulling me into his side. “Lucky for you, I plan on it.” 

The walk out of the club and to the tour bus was quick and full of chaste touches. Eddie’s fingers wandered over the contours of my body, covered by my dress. I couldn't help the small moans which passed my lips when he would squeeze tightly at my ass. 

It was quiet on the bus and the lights were. If I were less worried about getting dicked down I might have questioned where the rest of the band was, but that was far from my mind. 

Eddie pulled me to the very back with him. I couldn’t see where we were going in the darkness but I knew we had arrived when Eddie’s strong hands pushed me down onto what I could only assume was a mattress. The sheets under my fingers were soft and the smell which wafted off of them when I laid my head down smelt intoxicating. 

I waited for him to follow, yet he did not. I could hear his footsteps retreating only for them to come back seconds later followed by the closing of the door. The overhead light flashed on and Eddie was lit up in front of me. His eyes were dark, filled with lust and an urgent need, and like earlier during the concert, they seemed to flash red again. I paid it no mind once more, as well as the strange shadow he cast on the door behind him. It changed within a split second, the pointed horns, the spayed tail, and the bat-like wings morphed into the shadow of a regular man. 

Shaking my head at the weird sight, I reached out for him. I needed him to touch me or else I might explode. He followed my cue and climbed on top of me, his knees on either side of my legs, his hands holding him above my head. He stared into my eyes for what seemed like forever before he surged downward and took my lips in his. 

His hand grasped at my chin, fingers digging slightly into my cheeks, forcing me to open my mouth. He licked his tongue against mine before sucking it into his mouth. It was a strange feeling, one I had never experienced, and a little weird, but I didn’t care. I moaned out and writhed under him, my hands roaming the bare skiing of his chest and back. 

Pulling away slightly, I looked up at him. “Please, touch me,” I whined, desperate to have his hands all over me. 

He grinned and leaned back down to kiss me but he didn’t stay at my mouth. He crawled down my body and let his hands drag over my dress before coming to the hem and pushing it up. The silky fabric was smooth against my skin and in the wake of his fingers, goose bumps began to appear. 

Eddie helped me sit up so he could pull the dress over my head and throw it to the other side of the room. His eyes widened at the sight of my breasts, nipples perked up as a result of the rush of cool air hitting them. Strong hands push me back down as lips begin to devour me. 

The kisses started at my neck and slowly went down my body. Over my breasts and stomach to the waistband of my panties. Eddie took the fabric between his teeth, catching my skin as he bid down lightly, then he pulled on them. I watched in awe as he took them off with his mouth. 

Taking my soaked panties from his mouth, he tossed them somewhere. His focus locked in on the center of my legs. Calloused fingers slid from foot to knee to thigh, massaging into the meat before they pried my legs apart. I could hear the loud intake of breath he took when his eyes spotted how wet I was, practically dripping down onto the bed.

"Fuck, sweetheart." He groaned out, tongue coming out to wet his lips. "Got the prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

I couldn't help but whimper. His words sent a flash of heat through me. "Please, need your mouth on me," I begged him.

Carefully, he held my legs apart and slowly descended onto my awaiting cunt. The first tentative touch of his mouth upon my sensitive clit had my hips bucking into him. 

He forced my hips down with strong hands and continued to suck. The vibrations from the moans he was making pulled sigh after pleasant sigh from my lips. I felt like I was in heaven under him. 

"More." The word came out soft and winded but he gave me what I wanted eagerly. His fingers are held tight on the plush of my hips, there are sure to be bruises there when we are done. He moved down over my pussy, lapping his tongue at my quivering hole. The pleasure he had already given me created more wetness. 

I clenched around nothing, desperate for something, anything to be inside me. With a hum from him and a sharp gasp from me, Eddie pushed his hot muscle into me, licking at my walls. 

Fingers reached out suddenly for his head of brown curls involuntarily. "Oh fuck… oh fuck Eddie." I pulled on the hand full of hair and he groaned loudly into my pussy. 

His eyes slit up to me and he pulled away only a fraction of an inch to speak, "That's it, Princess, pull my fucking hair," then he was right back to it. 

The grip I had on his hair was like a vice as I used it to grind onto his face. Eddie joined his mouth with a hand, shaping his tongue out for long, dexterous fingers. They were thick, stretching me out further than two of my own ever could. His went back to sucking on and flicking my clit all the while curling his fingers up into the spongy wall of my cunt. 

He was building me up up up and I could feel the pressure in my lower abdomen growing and growing. I was getting closer and closer to orgasm and something in me whispered that this wouldn't be the last, it was only the first of many. 

The soft moans I let out only urged him to stroke his fingers faster. The wet, sloppy sounds aided all the other factors which had me as horny as could be. 

"Gonna.. ah.. gonna cum." I breathed and within seconds I was coming undone around Eddie’s fingers. 

He didn't stop. Fingers moving at a blistering pace. He removed his mouth from my clit only to replace it with his other hand, rubbing harsh back-and-forth strokes over the swollen bud. 

"Oh, oh, oh." I sounded like a broken record as my whole body tensed and I came for a second time in only a few seconds. 

"That's it. Give it all to me." Eddie cooed, eyes racking over my body as he grinned an almost sinister smile. 

Suddenly his hands left me, leaving me to crash back down to earth from a shattering high. My body was limp but I still wanted more. Thankfully I didn't have to voice my want as Eddie sucked dark marks up my legs and torso and to my neck before a hand reached down to undo the fasten on his pants. 

Impatiently I waited, legs spreading wider of their own accord to accommodate him between them, chest pushing out so that he might choose to devour a breast, his hot tongue swirling around my nipple. 

My body reacted to him in a way it had never reacted to anyone else. It was like everywhere he touched was on fire like the nerves in my skin were raw and out in the open. 

I couldn’t see his cock as it was revealed from the confines of those tight pants, but I could feel the intense heat that radiated from it. It felt huge. Probably the biggest I had ever taken or will ever take, because honestly how was I going to go back to your average Tom, Dick, and Harry? I wasn't, this singer from my friend's favorite band was going to and already had ruined me for anyone else. I craved him deep within my soul and that craving was not going to go away.

Eddie snapped me out of the haze of my thoughts with a simple slap to my cheek. It wasn’t hard, just enough to sting and I moaned when it happened, low and animalistic. I didn't even know I was to that.

"You with me princess? Hum? You ready for my cock?" The way he said it sounded like he was talking down to me, yet it had butterflies erupting in my stomach. 

"Yes. So fucking ready for your cock. Need it so bad. Please need you to fuck me hard." 

"Mmm. Such a dirty little girl you are." Eddie hummed into my ear. I could feel the head pressing into the wetness around my pussy. He lazily dragged himself through my folds, teasing.

My breath caught in my throat when he hit my clit, concentrated there for a few extra seconds. "Please please please please please please," I begged. I'd never been so desperate for something in my life. "I'll do whatever you want just fuck me."

These must have been the magic words because within seconds he was pushing his fat cock into my cunt. 

He let out a whimper, a fucking whimper, and it had me surging upward, connecting our mouths again. This kiss was ever needier than the rest, overflowing with desire and want. It was all gnashing teeth and less lip and tongue. I gripped his hair again a the base of his scalp, tugging it hard, earning me plenty of sharp thrusts. My other hand clawed at his back. 

I could feel the flex of his muscles under my fingernails as they dragged across the skin.  Bright red marks were left in their wake. If he was going to mark me, then I was going to mark him as well. 

Eddie set a brutal pace with his thrusts, the head of his cock nudged harshly into me before slipping almost all the way out and plummeting back into my depths. 

Throwing my head back, hair tossed on the sheets, I moaned. Deep and guttural and raw. I felt this pleasure in my bones. My legs latched around Eddie's waist and my toes splayed as the quick and enviable high crashed through me for a third time. 

Still, he did not stop. Fucking me through the pleasure, chasing his own. His thrusts became harder, faster, unexplainably more. It was like my own ecstasy was feeding him. Egging him on, giving him more energy to ruin me.

Tears were welling up in my eyes as he fucked into me ruthlessly. The only noise I could make were tiny, sharp gasps. My body felt like it was from a different plane of existence, only being tethered down on Earth by Eddie hovering above me, his skin pressed up against mine. 

Eddie moved his hand from the bed to my face, prying his fingers into the hollows of my cheeks as he had before, causing me to open my mouth wide. Then, with no warning, he spit into my mouth. “Fucking swallow.” 

I snapped my lips closed and swallowed every drop, moaning at the taste of him. 

“Such a good girl.” He hummed, pushing his thumb past my lips. I whimpered when he used it to press down onto my tongue. 

All the while, he hadn’t slowed the rushed-paced assault on my cunt. My body was clammy with sweat as another orgasm began to build. With my back arching off the bed, I came, gagging on his thumb. 

Eddie pulled out of my aching cunt, leaving me crying at the loss of his fullness. He grabbed at my body, manhandling me onto my front. Strong hands maneuver my ass into the air and push my head and chest into the sheets. In an instant, he was pushing back into my soaking-wet heat. 

It was a new feeling, taking him like this. His cock hit deeper than I thought it possibly could. His hands grabbed at the fat of my ass, using the leverage it gave to push and pull me on and off his cock in rhythm with his thrusts. My mouth was hanging open, drool spilling out into a small puddle. 

His grunts filled the air accompanied by the chorus of my whimpers and the percussion of skin slapping against skin. 

A scream caught in my throat when Eddie reached around my body and began rubbing quick circles on my clit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Eddie, please, gonna cum. Gonna cum so hard!” 

I was only answered by more primal grunts from behind. Hips snapping into mine harder, fingers rubbing then slapping the sensitive nerves between my legs. It was all too much. The burn in my lower abdomen was getting hotter and hotter and the need for release was enough to have real tears falling from my eyes as my body began to spasm and writhe in pleasure. Then I was cumming and the dam released. Screaming Eddies name as I squirted all over my legs and him and his bed. 

Eddie’s hand leaves my clit and grabs at my throat, pulling me up flush against him. His fingers tightened slightly, enough to make the haze of my mind grow. I could feel his hips sputtering, he was close. 

His hair tickled as he leaned his head down, mouth sucking on the junction between my neck and shoulder. His hips fucked desperately into me, the steady rhythm from before disappearing. Out of nowhere a sharp pain permeated from where his mouth is throughout my body. From the corner of my eye, I can see blood dripping down my chest. Worry flashed in my head only to quickly be replaced with pleasure as I came once more. Cunt pulsing around Eddie’s cock as he came, pumping me full of cum. 

My body was weak, limbs shakey from the strain they had endured as well as the major deplete in energy after cumming a hand full of times, with barely any rest in between. Eddie laid me down gently, mouth cleaning up the blood on my shoulder then kissing and biting his way down my back. 

He pulled out and stepped back off the bed. I could feel his eyes staring at me, even if my own were closed. 

“That was amazing,” I whispered, barely able to form the short sentence. “Thank you.” 

Eddie chuckled. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m not done with you.” His fingers raked up my bare legs, making me shiver. “My appetite isn’t sated.”

[dreadsuitsamus]

Pierce | Kensei Muguruma x Reader |

author's note: this is perhaps the most self-indulgent thing i've ever written, as i have a medusa piercing myself that i longed to get for two whole fucking years, but didn't bc i was stupid and let a man's opinion dictate what i did! don't ever let someone hold power like that over you, my loves <3

pairing: kensei muguruma x fem!reader

warnings: needles, piercing, some typical kensei and mashiro shenanigans, mention of a clit piercing at the end

The shop is tiny, the storefront so small you missed it twice during your quest to find it. And just as you were about to call it quits and find another piercing studio that would accept walk-ins, the faded sign above the door caught your eye and you were soon swinging into a parking space with a heart pumped full of anxiety and a smile on your face.

Two years. You've wanted this piercing for two years, and now that the man you spent countless nights crying and agonizing over is officially out of your life, there's nothing to hold you back now. You've been freed from the chains of his judgment and his approval means absolutely nothing now, and it's finally time to live for yourself.

Stepping into the shop, the bell above the door jingles and you take a look around. It's not the nicest shop, no, but your excitement bypasses any chance of it bothering you. The sound of a tattoo needle buzzes down the short hallway to your left, and as you peek in you get a glimpse of a blond tattooing a large piece on an equally large man's back. Snooping doesn't last long as, from the hallway directly in front of you, out comes a cheerful woman with bright green hair.

“Hellooooooo, welcome to our shop!” She's loud as she bounces behind the counter, tapping the tablet to life and turning to face you. “What can we do for you today?”

“Ah, I called earlier today, about the philtrum?”

The woman gasps, smacking her palms to her cheeks. “Ohhh, that's gonna be so cuuuuute on youuuuu!” She taps a few things on the tablet before digging into the stash of posts and studs, laying out a few options before you. “Lemme see who's available while you look over these!”

The starter options are simple, and you carefully hold the circular cases they're in to examine them. Voices gradually approach, one belonging to the green-haired woman, and the other much deeper and with a twinge of annoyance. “Mashiro, no more walk-ins today. I mean it!”

“Fiiiine! But you gotta do this one! She's gonna look so cute with a medusa!”

“We'll see.” He rolls his eyes and steps into the room, moving behind the counter and standing before you, looking at the options Mashiro has provided you. “Take my advice and just get the titanium. Nickel is cheap and you're just gonna replace it down the road anyway.”

Nodding, you look up at the man, blinking owlishly at the sight of him. He's tall with a few piercings of his own, though the one on his lip is easily the most distracting. It's a thin, gold piece of jewelry that matches the ones on his ear and eyebrow, and your cheeks warm at the idea of this man being the one to pierce you. “Uh… S-sure.”

“Nervous?” He crosses his thick arms, perking his eyebrow. “Better change your mind now, ‘cause if I get started and you wanna stop, you're still paying for my time.”

“Kensei!” Mashiro scolds, kicking his shin. Kensei grimaces at her powerful kick, elbowing her away from him and pointing to the hallway he first came from.

“Go sweep the floor or something!” He rubs his shin, resting his forearm on the glass case. Mashiro sticks her tongue out, giving Kensei a middle finger before sauntering into what you gather is the tattoo studio, leaving you and the piercer alone.

Shaking his head, Kensei looks back at you, his hands resting on the glass, his fingers tapping a bit as he speaks. “Anyway. The titanium is a better option, even though it's more expensive. It's hypoallergenic, shinier than nickel, doesn't get mixed with other metals… It's durable but lightweight, so the healing process is gonna go smoother because it won't be so much of a strain on your lip, which is a huge positive because philtrum piercings generally take around three months to heal, minimum. This is a long haul type of piercing; I need you to understand that.”

You nod along, eager to just get started already. “I trust what you say. You have a lot of piercings, and you do it for a living, so… Whatever you say goes.”

A handsome smirk spreads over his lips. “Good. Pick a stud. Your choices aren't flashy, but it's just the starter. You'll be able to pick the pretty stuff after it's healed.”

Fighting the urge to make a dad joke, even to yourself, you look down at the options. He's right that they aren't the cutest options in the world, but there's certainly still beauty in simplicity. Kensei rests a curled finger against his lips, resting his elbows against the glass display case while you survey the small range of starters. His amber eyes study you, practically tracing the shape of your lips— Mashiro's right. This piercing will look great on you.

Maybe even cute.

When you've settled on the silver ball stud with a clear gem in the center, Kensei steps over to the tablet and punches in a few numbers. “Military?” He glances over, silver brow raised until you shake your head, his warm-colored eyes looking back at the screen to bring your total up without a discount.

Gazing around the room, a picture stands out amongst the rest. It's Kensei, a handful of years younger than he is now, with Mashiro, the blond you saw in the tattoo studio and plenty more, all wearing military uniforms, though the smiles and way they're grouped up suggests this was an off duty sort of photograph taken. Kensei follows your eyes, a soft curve pulling at the ends of his lips at the picture; the memory of that day is fresh in his mind, as if it was just yesterday they decided to leave the service behind.

“When we left the military, we opened up this shop and the restaurant a few doors down. I'd never recommend friends go into business together, but… We all manage well.” He finishes rather softly, and oh how you ache to hear the stories behind those eyes. Kensei's certainly a rough around the edges guy from what you can see of him, though the inkling that he also loves a long walk on the beach has a little smile pull at your lips.

“Thank you all for your service.” You hum genuinely, tapping your credit card to the reader as excitement buzzes once again. “And thank you for agreeing to do this for me.”

Kensei waves his large hand, gathering your purchased jewelry and leading the way into one of the rooms set up for piercings, patting his hand at the end of the already fully-reclined chair. “Mashiro said you could walk-in, so we're gonna honor that every time. If you ever want a tattoo or another piercing though, I’d recommend making an appointment on our website. You can choose who you want that way too, instead of playing around our availability.”

“Noted, though I think I like having you for my piercer.” You miss the way his cheeks blush a gentle pink as you sit on the chair, setting your purse down beside you. “You’re knowledgeable… Do you do tattoos as well?”

“Eh, I stick to the piercings.” Kensei mutters, unscrewing the case your new jewelry is in, dumping it onto a tray and spraying the bar and stud down with disinfectant. He rips open a package with a needle and forceps, setting the opened pack down before thoroughly washing and drying his hands— the way his biceps flex nearly have you in a daze, the muscles big and rippling… I bet he gives the best hugs. “Latex allergy?”

“Nope.” Your gentle shake of the head has Kensei slipping on a black pair of gloves, the material snapping loudly against his skin before he turns to pull the new, sanitized utensils from the plastic package.

“Alright.” Ken turns back around fully, handing you a small cup of mouthwash. “Swish a few times and then we’re about good to go.”

Following his instructions, you feel the freshness of mint once you’ve rinsed. Your leg bounces a bit, the realization that it’s finally happening hitting you like a freight train, your belly a bundle of nerves as Kensei takes a q-tip wet with rubbing alcohol and dabs at your lip. His gaze is intent, focused and handsome as he maps out the spot your piercing will be in.

“Gotta get in a little closer.” He warns, voice quite low as he fills the space between your knees with his much larger body, a little marker in his hand to mark where the needle will pierce you. “You ready? It’ll be over like this,” He snaps his fingers, and somehow a snap alone tells you what sort of leader he must be— strong and decisive, for starters. Knowing him this shallowly and for only around twenty-minutes, you’re still somehow quite certain of this.

Strangely, you ache to know more about him, this complete stranger that’s standing between your legs without a lick of impropriety about him.

“I’ve waited two, agonizingly long years for this.” Your voice drops to a whisper as tears slowly fill your eyes, and you hope Kensei’s gorgeous, amber eyes can’t see them. “I’ve never been more ready, Kensei.”

Understanding, Kensei nods slowly; he’s quite familiar with the ache of waiting, the cruelty that comes with the already unpleasant anxiety that patience brings. Whatever your reasons for waiting are, you’ve finally come to the end of that journey and it’s with great pleasure that he finds the perfect center of your philtrum, dotting your skin with the black marker and picking up the fresh forceps. “It’s gonna pinch, but it’ll be fast. Open up for me.”

Kensei delicately pulls at your parted lip, pinching it between the forceps as he takes the needle in his free hand. Your chest heaves, each breath of air filling your lungs as quickly as your anxiety dispels the air— the needle moves, and your fingers grip Kensei’s black tank top as the flesh breaks and the needle protrudes from your lip. He was right about how fast it was (and he wasn’t lying about it being a pinch, though it’s certainly a more painful pinch than he described) and before you can even blink he’s setting the bar in place and screwing the piercing ball on. The sensation is odd, but you’ll get used to it soon enough. Finally, your wish has been granted to you.

Your piercer smiles a bit, giving you a mirror and resting his fists on either side of your legs as he admires his work— he’ll never say it to her face, but Mashiro was absolutely right about this being a good piercing for you. It’s cute. “Looks good. Take care of it.”

Your eyes fill with happy tears this time, and you throw your arms around Kensei’s neck in a hug that surprises him— to his credit, he doesn’t push you away but instead carefully pats your back. You’re able to gather yourself after a moment, and Kensei cleans up the station afterwards. “Grab some disinfectant and clean that piercing at least twice a day. And get an alcohol-free mouthwash, and use it after every meal, every smoke… Every kiss too.”

Snorting ungracefully, you hop off the chair and hook your purse over your shoulder. “Don’t have to worry about that one— I haven’t had anyone to kiss in years.”

“Oh my god, what a coincidence!” Mashiro’s back, and she’s got a broom in hand that she certainly hasn’t actually swept anything with. “Kensei hasn’t either!”

“Mashiro!” Kensei’s voice booms again, and your heart blooms alongside your laughter.

His blush is cute, and you’re already thinking about what your next piercing will be. Perhaps an industrial… Or even your clit.

[cryptic--writing]

guess who said they were quitting but came back to write a teaser fic to see if people are intrestedddd

so like I havent had any motivation but have lowk been wanting to write pt2s for some fics (ik most don't need them so I'll prob just do this one) but if this post does well I'll do pt3

anyways this isn't a full comeback I wrote this in like 20 minutes

also tumblr glitched and I couldn't put a keep reading thig- sorry!

word count: 810

warnings: none at all, fluff ig????

part 1

JASON 'NEW-KID' NEWSTED- A CALL (1987?)

That night ended with a few final words, and the passing of a note. It was a week later now, and I looked down at the crumpled napkin with messy writing on it that I held in my hands.

Written on it was Jason’s phone number, only visible under the dim light of my lamp on my nightstand. The apartment was quiet, as usual. Not much had happened in my life since that night. He had told me the band was going for a few more shows in the week, but that he had some friends in my city he’d be visiting and all that, telling me to give him a call around them.

There were two numbers, his home phone, and then his friend's number so he could answer it while visiting.

The only problem was, he said to call me today. Today is when he would be coming back here. The only problem was that I forgot. It was now 2am. It would be rude and unruly to try and call him now, but he was going to be at the friend's house only today. He'd be gone at 8am to go to a hotel, which I did not know the location of.

I clenched the napkin tighter in my grasp, debating what I would do.

I could call him and see him again, have a chance for something good in my life, or miss this opportunity due to not wanting to be rude or invasive.

I had to take the chance, right?

I removed the phone from the holder, staring down at the dialing wheel as my heart raced. I looked back down at the note, churning the dial and entering every number with my shaky, sweaty finger.

How pathetic was I to get this worked up over something so simple?

I had gotten nine digits entered, all but one, the final number. I took a break, gently dialing his number. The phone let out a long, ear piercing ring as I squeezed my eyes shut, embarrassed to have possibly woken him up.

It rang again.

And again.

And it let out the final ring, with no answer, I sighed, a mixture of relief and disappointment before having my peace interrupted and startling me greatly.

“Hey, who is it?” An unfamiliar voice answered from the other end of the line. My heart had jumped in my chest from the stranger, but I was quick to answer, stumbling over my words like a middle school boy confessing to his crush. “Jason? It's me, we m-” I was cut off by the strange man on the other end of the phone. “Alright, yeah, one minute,” His voice went from clear to muffled, “Jase! Some chick called and wanted to talk with ya, probably some random fangirl…” He muttered the final words and I rolled my eyes, even if he was partially right. I heard another voice speak through the phone, one I couldn't make out completely, though I prayed it was Jason.

“Hey, it's Jason, who's this?” Prayer answered. “Oh, hi, I uhm…” Why was it so hard for me to form a basic sentence! The silence rang for a second, the static blaring from the phone and into my ear before I forced myself to speak again. “We met at the bar the other week, and you gave me your number and everything, you said to give you a call today but I called you so late, I probably woke you guys up, I'm so sorry,” I rambled out, though to my surprise there was a soft laugh on the other side.

“Yeah, no I remember you. Don't worry about calling late, we've been up and everything. So, what's up?” He answered back, and almost seemed a bit nervous himself. It made me feel like a teenager all over again.

“I just wanted to know if maybe you'd wanna hangout sometime..? I know some of the good places around the area, maybe we could get a drink or anything really,” I offered, staring down at my floor. “Sure! That sounds fun, does tomorrow work? I don't really have a car so would you mind driving me?” He asked and informed me and I of course agreed.

He told me where his hotel would be and when to pick him up. We had agreed on me getting him around 11am and we’d go out to a cheap local restaurant and see where that might take us. We hung up with a goodbye and a goodnight, and I placed the phone back on the recovery. My mind was reeling. I let out a breath I didn't know was I was holding and inhaled another, my heart still racing, but now with a different reason.

No longer from nervousness, but from… something else?

[gothamslostboy]

Hi!! ive always wanted to do a matchmaking request for the lost boys <33

* Physical appearance-

i’ve got wavy blue hair, cut up to my ears, basically brahms hair cut but grown out! i have green/brown eyes, and i have so many beauty marks all over my body. i’m 5’6, and have ear piercing + a septum! i have -5 vision so i need glasses ;-;

* Style-

as of right now i dress like a dad or that one uncle, cargo shorts, over sized tshirt, hawaiian shirts or hoodie, rings and necklaces [lots of thrm] earrings and nose ring!! i always make sure i have cool socks on tho, gotta keep up the style!! i usually carry a canva messenger bag with me. for shoes it’s probably doc martens!

* Favorite food

spinach, pickle flavoured sun flower seeds, ramen, calamari, rice, simple foods mostly

* Gender preference -

any gender works for me! i just tend to lean more towards men <3

* 1-2 hobbies -

i absolutely love crafting, no matter what it is, i want to make stuff! it’s not really a hobbit but i love taxidermy, when i did my first rat i fell in love with it and want to do more, so anything relating to death is a bobbie for me 🫶

* Music tastes-

sad love songs, metal music, fnaf music, french music,, it’s very all over the place right now here are the most listened to songs from me! loosing my mind - dennis domian, atlantis - seafret, ça va - emile bilodeau, we’re not gonna take it - twisted sisters, it’s a little of everything yknoe

* Favorite animal-

i think my favorite animals are between sharks, the stoplight loose jaw fish, frogs, rats and worms!!

* Favorite movie/genre -

For genre it’s horror all the way, but for favorite movies? my favorite movies are the lost boys, scream, labyrinth, 9, ferngully, dead poets society and the last unicorn!

* 1-2 personality traits -

im childish, but gruesome thinking, and i have terrible adhd and can basically remember nothing

* Gender

i have no gender 🫶 but i lean towards male pronouns

* Fandom (max 3) - which movie/tv show

the lost boys please!!

* How many characters?

1. 1 fandom: maximum 2

3. 2-3 fandoms: maximum 3

whoever you see fif

* Zodiac sign

i’m a taurus✋

* 1-2 traits you look for in partner
in a partner i just really want someone who will love me for me, that’s understanding and will get i habe my ups n downs, but also someone who’s down to do stupid stuff when the time comes yknow? i’m a really big person on giving gifts to people, so someone who could possibly match that energy❓

here’s some extra info about me tho

i’m aro-ace! the type of aromatic that’s cupioromantic, and a mostly sex-repulsed asexual. now the sex repulsed part is mostly towards myself, i don’t wanna see other people or myself naked, watchjng sex scenes is less bad, still weird to me tho,, i speak frnech since i learnt it when i was also learning english! so i’m sorry if my spelling is off or there’s mistakes 😭 i have writing issues shsishshs

this is so exciting i hope i gave you enough info!!

Ok before I get into this: YOU ARE SO COOL. YOURE LIKE A COOLER VERSION OF WHO I WANT TO BE. Pickle flavored sunflower seeds are amazing, but I always accidentally eat the shells haha:] don’t worry your spelling is great, also I wish I was taught another language when I was young, my mom hired a Chinese teacher and I remember 1 song, but we stopped when I was 4 (started at 2) and I don’t remember anything else<\\\3

I Ship You With….

Marko! You want someone who also likes giving/receiving gifts? HE IS YOUR MAN!!! Holy shit he’s gonna give you so many gifts you won’t be able to move around your home.

He’s a vampire, so who is he to judge anyone? As long as someone is not a hateful bigot or an asshole, he’ll find a way to vibe. He himself struggles with anger issues, so he understands mental health a bit and does his best. Besides Paul, he’s the boy most likely to do stupid shit with you, mainly bc he enjoys being a gremlin.

Lil personal hc here: Marko is Trans, so when it comes to you not having a gender, it’s the equivalent of someone not having blonde hair to him: he doesn’t care. He’s just happy to have you as a partner

Marko is very used to being around Paul, so ADHD and childish behavior doesn’t bother him, and he’s gonna encourage your gruesome thinking as much as he can.

His favorite things about your style is your hair, socks and piercings, certainly begging to re dye it himself and buying you guys socks. He buys 2 pairs, takes one of each pair, and gives you the remaining two. He loves to do this instead of matching things in the normal way.

He is an artsy dude, focusing mostly on clothes himself. But once you tell him about taxidermy? He’s on his hands and knees asking you to show him how. He obviously knew what it was, just for some reason it never connected in his head that it’s a real thing ppl do.

On dates he takes you to local flee markets/ art shows to get things and make art out of whatever thing inspires you too.

After one of his favorite pigeons passes, he will ask if you could taxidermy it for him and keeps it safely in his room.

[theovergrowth]

(( heheh Father and Son Momence;;;; ))

(( tw for blood mention and descriptions of someone getting their ears pierced ))

“It’s gonna hurt for a second.”

There was a quiet crunch as his father poked the needle through his earlobe that made him shudder with nausea, leaning into the steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Hold still, child. Don’t wanna accidentally pierce your neck.”

A terrifying thought that kept him still as the dead.

“This is the easy part,” his father mused, dabbing away blood from Titus’ ear. “You sure you wanna do the uppers and tattoos today?”

Still too nervous to move his head, he gave a determined thumbs up. Today, Titus knew, he was becoming A Man.

“Boy, y’ain’t gonna get outta the house for a week,” father chuckled, gently petting his hair. “‘Tween all the tattoos and piercin’s, I can already hear ya complaining’.”

“I ain’t gonna complain,” he urged, cringing as the needle crunched through the hard part of his upper ear. “I ain’t a baby no more.”

“Hm. That so?”

Suddenly, his father was grabbing his sides, sending Titus into a fit of laughter and giggling.

“Well, ya still look like my baby. What happened to my baby, huh? Where did you put ’im?“

He relented finally, giving Titus time to compose himself before going back to work on the piercings.

“Why are ya so eager to not be a baby?” He poked the earring through and fastened it before starting work on the next.

“‘Cuz babies don’t do nothin’,” Titus asserted. “They don’t know things. They’re stupid.”

“Woah there, someone’s angry today,” Macrides whistled, poking the needle through again. “It ain’t the babies’ fault, son.”

“No, I know, but…”

He didn’t know what to say. Why was he so mad about this?

“You talk to Elder Brother Macintosh?”

Ah. Right. He gave a thumbs up.

“And what happened?”

“…I was climbin’ a tree yesterday. An’, an’ a bird flew out and scared me, and so I fell an’ hurt my knees.”

“Mmhmm.”

“An’ so I went to Elder Brother to ask if he could heal me, cuz, cuz it really hurt.”

“Hm.”

“An’ he told me that it was a waste of his magic, an’ to just clean it an’ wrap it up. But I didn’t know how!”

“Mm…hmm.”

“So I asked for help, an’ he said I shoulda known how. He said… he told me I was a baby. That I didn’t know how to do nothin’ for myself.”

His father was quiet for a moment, taking in the information available. Macrides was a man of thought; the kind of man Titus wanted to be.

“This was yesterday,” he finally said, “and… Oh The Wilds, is this why ya told me yesterday ya wanted your marks?”

…After a moment, Titus shamefully hung his head.

“Oh, Titus.” Gently, his father took him into his arms and held him, bumping his forehead against his. “Ya shouldn’t have done this to prove somethin’ to someone. It’s supposed to be for you. These are gonna be your reminder of what you’ll always have.”

He sniffled, roughly wiping his eyes. “What do I always got?”

“Ya got strength. Ya fell from the tree an’, even when Macintosh made ya angry, ya cleaned up and fixed it, right?”

“Mm… yeah…”

“And that ain’t gonna stop ya from climbin’, is it?”

“No…”

“You’re a tough kid,” he assured, patting Titus’ head again before setting him down and fastening another earring. “Have been since before I was your father. Look, your ears are done and ya even barely flinched!”

A silver mirror was held out for him. He took it and angled it all around his head to look at the new additions to his previously bare ears.

“Woah… They’re just like yours!”

Macrides chuckled and watched him tap at the metal and fiddle with the chains. “Still want the tattoos? No shame in waitin’ for your 12th.”

Immediately he began to answer, only to stop himself. If Titus wanted to become a man of thought, it meant he would need to start thinking about his choices. So he thought quietly for about half an hour, his father waiting patiently and plucking twigs out of Titus’ hair.

“I… I wanna gittem. Not for nobody else. For me.”

“A wise path, kid. Still thinkin’ arrows?”

[cootcutebatkat]

I mean- okay I'm gonna put this up here actually so I can get my thoughts together in a much more cohesive way.

But often times, there is a logic to your emotions. Or more accurately, a reason to your emotions. But the reason(s) won't always be rational and what you do with them is your responsibility.

I'm gonna use an example here that is pretty common.

You are at a gas station and the pump isn't working, which is really unfortunate because you are very tired and hungry and you just wanna go home, but you need gas right now! But no matter how many times you swipe your card, the pump just doesn't wanna take it. Nothing is wrong with your card and you have the money, so what gives?

You feel angry, annoyed, and for fuck's sake, you just need this damn pump to work! So you go up to the kiosk and there is the attendant, scrolling their phone. You tap on the window to get their attention and they sit up and help you with the gas problem.

You might feel inclined to take your anger out on them (yelling or bitching) or assume some nasty things about them (lazy, apathetic), but you won't. You feel angry, but it's not on them. You're hungry, tired, and now impatient has been added to the list. So there is a reason, but it's not a giant reason.

Okay, maybe there is logic to that. Let's try something more abstract, something I dealt with very recently.

I got extra piercings on my ears at this very nice place! It was highly rated by all 500 reviews and very, very sterile. The guy was professional and extremely knowledgeable, even suggesting to wait on the extra piercings because he didn't want to overstretch my ears and risk any regrets on having more piercings.

But he also made me extremely uncomfortable. No, he didn't make any rude or boundary-violating comments or acted in such a way either. I just didn't like his energy and I have trouble with close physical contact, especially from someone who is very noisy or from another man.

Is there a logic to my emotions? Yes! Was the logic... Logical? Not really, and it definitely wasn't the fault of the man. The reasons of my discomfort (among other feelings) was common, personal, and also historical. Knowing that, however, helped me be patient with myself and with him.

If I take it to the level that OP has mentioned, my paranoia-riddled thoughts of "He's a bad person. He's violating me" and triggered fight-urges of "I'm gonna kill him"... Yeah, that would be bad. He was just doing his job! Just straight up existing!

Our reasons to our emotions aren't 100% reasonable. Knowing what they are and taking responsibility for them helps though.

If you know what they are but don't take responsibility, you'll be accusing people of horrible, egregious deeds, demanding others to bow to your expectations, and overall, be a very selfish person.

If you take responsibility for your emotions and your (re)actions but not understand the reasoning behind them, you'll end with a doormat personality, TONS of insecurity, and a dangerously low level of self-importance and respect.

You need both understanding and accountability for yourself (and for others!) in order to have relationships with others. It's not always easy, but it's better than the previous two options.

I don't think OP meant this to be a dichotomous statement, but I wanted to add clarification before they get flamed and/or get misunderstood.

People who treat your emotions as something that can be logicked away tend to be dangerous because they'll treat their own emotions as the voice of reason

[goldenmirroraffair]

Chapter 1: Introductions

Jesus Christ I’m nervous. My heart is pounding out of my chest. It feels like I’m about to get a heart attack.

‘Did you pack everything, Ryoma?’ My mother asks, sitting left of me in this Limousine she picked out because it’s “vintage” and “classy”. She personally makes sure it gets washed twice a week but honestly, I couldn’t care less about some luxary car right now.

‘Of course, mother’ I reply as if I haven’t checked a hundred times last night. Jurinji, my younger brother who is sitting to the right of me looks very cool and composed. He supports his head with his hand and seems to be more bored than anything. I, however, feel like I’ll shit myself out of fear.

‘Are you excited for your first day at a normal school?’ the woman to the left of me asks. Jurinji replies with a witty ‘I don’t really care. The main thing is completing my studies right now’.

‘Perfect. How about you, Ryoma?’

‘I can’t wait to impress my teachers, mother’.

‘Amazing. Looks like we’re here’.

My heart skips a beat after Charles, our driver helps me out of the car. A giant white building stands before me. Above the entrance are big golden letters that spell out “Hopes stars academy”. I tell myself that it’s only one year and I can do it as I say my goodbyes to mother. ‘Don’t disappoint me’ she reminds us as she usually does.

‘You’re shaking’ Jurinji points out.

‘I’m very sorry. This is a stressful situation’.

‘Pull yourself together’ he says with a sharp tongue as he enters the building.

Sometimes I question if I’m really the older sibling.

With a big gulp I open the door. There must be hundreds of people here. I already lost track of my brother as I stumble towards something that resembles a map. I pass black lockers with golden decoration. As to be expected from a private school like this.

‘Can I help you?’ some guy asks. His golden blonde hair on top doesn’t match the colour of his black undercut. He has a piercing on his lip. Even though I have pierced ears I don’t really get to see facial piercings that often. My father thought it’s “distasteful”.

‘Sure, I need to get to room 103. Do you know where I must go?’ I ask the punk.

‘Wait, are you taking Mr. Parkers class too?’

‘I’m not sure. I just received the room number’.

‘103 is where I’m going too. So, you can just follow me’ the helpful man explains. I hope I don’t have to sit next to him. Status is everything so maybe he’ll bring my reputation down.

As we’re walking, he makes an introduction. ‘By the way my name is Axel. Nice to meet ya!’ His thick German accent is almost too much for me to handle. There are probably loads of German students here since this school is located in Bavaria.

‘Greetings, Axel. My name is Ryoma Felch’.

‘So uhh do you always speak like a robot?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to come off as rude. I just wanna like make sure you’re comfortable.’

‘I’m comfortable thank you very much’. The rest of the walk was dead silent. He drops a quick ‘Gorgeous hair by the way. What products do you use?’ which I ignore. He could die of a heart attack right on the spot and I wouldn’t care. Some would say this is an extreme and cold reaction but mother taught me to talk to people with respect so that’s the least I can expect from others.

I enter the room first. There is a small group of girls sitting in a circle. You could smell their Ariana Grande perfume through the entire class.

‘Holy shit’ a girl with red eyeshadow says as she sees me. Oh no. ‘You’re the Felch boy, right?’

‘Yes. It is nice to make your acquaintance’, I respond.

‘The who boy?’ the pierced man behind me asks.

Another girl with green eyeshadow gives him a killer stare as she walks over to me.

‘Ryoma Felch! You know. The son of the owner of the Fashion brand FELCH?’

‘What like felching?’ He thinks for a second but then remembers. ‘Oh yeah but didn’t the owner die like half a year ago or something? And doesn’t that mean he’s also Swans brother?’

‘Jesus fucking Christ Axel you idiot’. The same girl responds. She noticed he didn’t only hit one sensitive nerve but two.

‘I apologize but I refuse to listen to you any longer’ I really want to leave right now.

This is way worse than I would have ever expected. I pass the young women and sit down on a chair with a red pillow. The girl with red eyeshadow is pulling Axel out of the door. I hope he gets suspended. Isn’t that what happens in schools like this? I remind myself that it’s just this year and then I’ll graduate.

After a few minutes more students enter the classroom. Since this school has two buildings, the main building is for people who are looking for a higher education (aka the school for all the wealthy kids) and a second building that resembles a public school. The second one is under renovations right now though, so the classes are a mix of both. Axel and the Ariana Grande perfume ladies, for example, are obviously not from the main building. They come back into the room and Axel sits down on the opposite side of the class without even daring to look at me. Finally, the teacher enters. He’s suspiciously young. If he didn’t sit down at the front, I would’ve thought he’s another student.

‘Umm hi class’ Oh no. I think the students that look wealthy are just as confused as me right now. ‘You can call me Mr. Parker. Even though I’m your teacher this year I want us to have a chill relationship’ He has a Bavarian accent similar to Axels.

‘Excuse me! I think I’m in the wrong classroom’ a girl shouts out as she starts packing up. I notice her Gucci glasses which look stupidly big on her.

‘Emma Singer, right? I’m sorry but no, you aren’t. I used to be a teacher at the second building but because of the renovations I teach this class now.’ She pulls her Notebook back out. ‘So first of all, I want to do introductions. If someone throws the ball at you – you have to say something about yourself. Let’s start with you, Emma’.

She catches the ball.

‘Well, I’m Emma Singer, I’m 18 years old and single.’ a few other students cringe at that statement. ‘I’m in the fashion design course at the main building and I plan to make my own label someday.’ The statement is kind of ironic because she didn’t seem to recognize me. I mean I’m ME.

The ball passes all over the classroom and even knocks down a water bottle. The teacher took some paper towels and cleaned it up though. Finally, someone throws the ball to the girl with red eyeshadow. ‘I’m Chayenne, 18 years old and not single.’

She received a few chuckles from that. ‘I chose to be in the makeup class because of my passion in makeup and the racism connected with shades. I often struggle finding a good foundation or concealer because the industry often forgets people of colour exist.’ She sounds very serious about this topic. I love passionate people a lot. She throws the ball to Axel, but he fails to catch it and it hits his face. That even gets a laugh out of me.

‘My name is Axel Mueller and I’m like 19’ Like 19? Doesn’t he even know how old he is? At this point I’m convinced he’s an alien imposter trying to figure out how humanity works. ‘I have a cat called Milk and my mom owns a club that I work at part time. So maybe you’ll see me at the Typhoon. Oh yeah and I’m from the theatre class.’

‘Gay!’ another student shouts out. The amount of rude people in this class is so annoying. I don’t have anything against queer people, but I would’ve been so mad at them for calling me that.

‘So?’ Axel responds. What? That’s a shocker. I didn’t expect him to… well it’s none of my concerns.

‘HEADS UP!’ he shouts as he throws the ball in my direction.

‘Huh?’ I notice it too late and just like 20 seconds ago with the punk himself, the ball bounces off my face. This time, however, I fall backward and hit the back of my head against the window silt behind me. A small ‘fuck’ escapes my lips. Hopefully nobody heard that.

‘Oh, shit Ryoma do you want an ice pack?’, the teacher asks.

‘Yes, that would be great.’

‘The nurses office has some.’ There’s a small pause that feels like an eternity. Does he expect me to get it? Is he being serious right now?

‘Oh shit my bad. I’ll go get it’ the guy who assaulted me says.

‘No need’ I say as I stand up and start to walk to the door.

‘But you don’t know where it is’ Axel exclaims.

‘And you do? Aren’t you from the second building?’ a few students are making shocked noises.

‘See this as Axels punishment’, Mr. Parker says to deescalate the situation.

‘Not suspension or something like that?’ A lot of students are chuckling. Chayenne is having the time of her life. ‘Whatever.’ I open the door with Axel following me.

[stuckinuniformdevelopment]

@bishop-percival

(Previous) Bishop Percival prostrated himself toward the otherworldly demon. “O’ almighty Xryxllittian… I’m a BIG fan!” He stood back up and shook his sleeve, at which a handful of carved idols tumbled out. “You’re like my favorite muse to devote graven images to, your devastating destruction of galaxies is a huge inspiration, and I-” Xryxllittian’s voice boomed “Yeahhh… listen man the sacrifice was nice n all but I was kinda in the middle of devouring the universe in my dimension… I wanna get back to that. Byeee…” Percy got on his knees and pleaded. “WAIT! I summoned you here to ask something of you. I’m a devout servant of Glorn and all malign entities but I crave to be something more… It’s my desire to become a demon myself! I beg of you to depart even just a fraction of your power unto me to achieve this!” Xryxllittian roared with a cacophony of ear-piercing laughter. “You’re just a tiny little eye guy! You gotta make it worth giving you anything. I suppose you could start by offering up your other live sacrifice." Percy blinked. “...What live sacrifice? I don’t have another live one prepared. Your summoning ritual only called for one, no?” “I can sense the thoughts of another conscious person here. If they’re not for sacrifice, then they’re here to spectate. I’m not a party trick.” Percy grew furious and went around the room, kicking each worshiper laying on the floor to see if any of them showed any sign of being conscious. After coming up with no results, he grew desperate. “I-if you can sense their thoughts, could you at least tell me where those thoughts are coming from, or what they say?”

Theodore's blood ran cold when Xryxllittian said it could sense him. His mind had started to go blank in panic, and he was about to give in to the instinctual urge to dash when he reminded himself that he didn't know whether or not Xryxllittian could sense his location.

And if it couldn't he may be able to sneak away. All he had to do was be quiet and not think...

Which wasn't as easy as it sounded, even if Theodore suspected that it came far more easily to him than most people. He stuffed his notepad in his pocket and started moving while focusing on staying as quiet as possible.

Was there something wrong with him? Or was it a valued skill when people tried so hard to recreate it with meditation? He could understand why they'd envy him when it was better than-

...Thinking about not thinking was still thinking, wasn't it? Just had to climb and he'd be a good distance away. How far was Xryxllittian's range anyways? It would be an interesting question to answer if his life didn't depend on getting as far away as possible.

[bishop-percival]

@stuckinuniformdevelopment

(prev) There was always some light on the Skullship, whether it was dim tube lights or the gentle glow of the stars through tiny portholes. Except for now. Teddy focused solely on making out Bishop Percival’s words to distract himself from the pounding of his heart. This part of his notes was sure to be illegible, yet he refused to give up even as he felt his pencil slip off his page on several occasions. Suddenly red light pierced his eye and he dropped his writing supplies with a faint, muffled yelp as he reeled back and pressed his hands to his face. After a long pause Teddy cautiously opened his eye only to clench it shut again. He clutched his head as if it was the only way to keep it from splitting open and curled in on himself.

Bishop Percival prostrated himself toward the otherworldly demon. “O’ almighty Xryxllittian… I’m a BIG fan!” He stood back up and shook his sleeve, at which a handful of carved idols tumbled out. “You’re like my favorite muse to devote graven images to, your devastating destruction of galaxies is a huge inspiration, and I-”

Xryxllittian’s voice boomed “Yeahhh… listen man the sacrifice was nice n all but I was kinda in the middle of devouring the universe in my dimension… I wanna get back to that. Byeee…”

Percy got on his knees and pleaded. “WAIT! I summoned you here to ask something of you. I’m a devout servant of Glorn and all malign entities but I crave to be something more… It’s my desire to become a demon myself! I beg of you to depart even just a fraction of your power unto me to achieve this!” 

Xryxllittian roared with a cacophony of ear-piercing laughter. “You’re just a tiny little eye guy! You gotta make it worth giving you anything. I suppose you could start by offering up your other live sacrifice."

Percy blinked. “...What live sacrifice? I don’t have another live one prepared. Your summoning ritual only called for one, no?”

“I can sense the thoughts of another conscious person here. If they’re not for sacrifice, then they’re here to spectate. I’m not a party trick.”

Percy grew furious and went around the room, kicking each worshiper laying on the floor to see if any of them showed any sign of being conscious. After coming up with no results, he grew desperate. “I-if you can sense their thoughts, could you at least tell me where those thoughts are coming from, or what they say?”

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 01

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 10.3k [1/6]

notes: this fic was originally going to be a oneshot, but i changed my mind and decided i didn’t want to kill tumblr with a totally unnecessary 50k jk fic so 🤷🏻‍♀️ here is part one of a fic that 100% only came about because @puellaigmotum​ coerced me into it like 2 years ago (lmao rip 💀) and also bc i have zero self-control and am hopelessly h*rny for jungkook these days and don’t look at me i don’t wanna talk about it okay??? 🙈

warnings: jk’s massive noona kink, some ~under the table~ action, too much detail about jk’s dumb veiny arms probably, but at least he doesn’t have tattoos bc i started writing this before he got them and i don’t need to torture myself anymore than i already do!!!

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

It’s always been easy to spot your brother in a crowd. Passengers flood off the train, jostling around you on their way to the station’s exit, but even in the swarm you can perfectly see Jimin’s golden head of hair bobbing its way toward you, a deep scowl etched across his face. “You’re late,” he says in lieu of a greeting, his honey brown eyes raking over your scuffed suitcase distastefully as he comes to a stop a few feet away.

“And you’re just as impatient as ever,” you retort, coming to a stop before him with your luggage in tow. “Think you can lord it over me since you can drive now?”

“Don’t forget that I’m your ride home,” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I could just as easily leave you here to fend for yourself.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you tell him, raising a brow in silent challenge.

Jimin stares down at you unflinchingly, and you stare right back. The tension stretches between you, taut and heavy, until every passing second feels like a light year. Around you, the crowd slowly dissipates, but still you remain—two motionless statues locked in a wordless struggle. From somewhere overhead, a monotone voice announces the next train departure times.

Jimin’s mouth twitches. You blink, twice in quick succession.

And then your little brother breaks into a grin—one that’s so wide you fear his mouth may detach from his face entirely. An answering smile settles across your face as you watch him throw his head back, dissolving into laughter that you can’t help but echo.

“Damn it, Chim!” you say, instinctively grabbing onto his wrist when it looks like he might fall over. “Your poker face still sucks.”

“I’ve gotten better!” Jimin immediately defends. “I mean, you’ve got to admit that, right?”

“Nope.” You sigh and hold a hand over your head so you can measure your height against his ever-so-slightly taller frame. “Same old annoying kid I grew up with. Seriously, have you grown at all in the past year?”

“Whoa, too far, Noona.” Jimin takes ahold of both of your cheeks, pinching them affectionately. “You’re only a year older than me, you know. Besides, I’ve been taller than you for two years now!”

“I’m pretty sure hitting puberty at age seventeen isn’t something to be proud of,” you reply, pulling away from him with a mock grimace and giggling when he lets out an offended squeak. Playfully, you reach up to ruffle his hair, scrubbing your knuckles just a little too roughly against his skull.

“Noonaaa,” he complains, drawing out the last syllable until he runs out of air. “Jeez, you haven’t even been back for an hour yet and you’re already being mean to me. When do you go back to Seoul again?”

“Three weeks,” you reply, narrowing your eyes. “But I can and will make these three weeks hell for you. Don’t test me.”

Jimin snickers and drapes his arm over your shoulders. He picks up your suitcase with the other hand, and you thank him with another, gentler hair ruffle as the two of you start toward the exit of the train station. “College hasn’t changed you one bit.”

“And senior year hasn’t changed you,” you say, letting him guide you outside and breathing in the balmy summer evening air. Jimin’s brow furrows as he tries to remember where he’s parked, and you kindly take your suitcase back when he nods decisively and heads toward the left side of the lot. “You excited to graduate?”

He sighs, fumbling in his pocket for the keys as the two of you approach the car. “It’s going to suck. Your ceremony was boring as hell last year.”

“Wow, rude.”

Jimin looks up from where he’s unlocking the driver’s side door. “Am I wrong, though?”

You flash him a grin as he unlocks the remaining doors, heaving your suitcase into the backseat before sliding into the passenger seat beside him. “Nope. But afterward, you’ll be done with high school forever.”

“Thank god.” Your brother rakes a hand through his hair, mussing it further as he carefully starts the ignition and checks his mirrors with all the diligence of a new driver. Once satisfied, he pulls out of the parking space, meandering his way out of the lot and onto the main street.

The ride back to your childhood home is a short one, full of familiar storefronts and landmarks that dredge up all sorts of fond memories. You hadn’t expected your first year of university—away from your family and your hometown—to make you quite so emotional. But before you know it, Jimin is making the turn into your neighborhood, and you can’t stop the way your eyes begin to well up when you see your house in the distance.

As if reading your mind, Jimin glances at you as he pulls into the driveway. “Feel good to be home?”

You nod, blinking back tears. “Feels great.”

He grins. Pulling the key from the ignition, he climbs out of the car and grabs your suitcase, waving for you to head inside. Eagerly, you start toward the front door, but you barely make it halfway up the driveway when it bursts open, revealing your father standing there with open arms and an enormous grin. He’s just as tall as you remember, and looks exactly the same save a few more strands of silver lacing his hair. All of a sudden, you’re a little girl again, running up to give him a hug and giggling madly when he tries to scoop you up like he used to do so many years ago.

“Hi Dad,” you greet when he gives up and sets you back down on two feet. “Where’s Mom?”

“Cooking up a storm,” he replies, chortling. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he leads you into the kitchen where your mother is hunched over the stove with a spatula, delicious aromas wafting up from the array of pots and pans in front of her. “Honey, look who’s home!”

“Hi Mom,” you say, grinning when she whirls around, startled. The spatula, still dangling loosely from her hand, drips sauce onto the tiled floor, but she barely notices in her eagerness to give you a hug, throwing it down into one of the simmering pots and striding forward to wrap you up in a tight embrace.

“How was your trip?” she asks, pulling back and angling your face this way and that. “Did you sleep on the ride? Did Jimin drive safely?”

The last question draws a protesting whine from your brother, who has lugged your suitcase over the threshold and is now seated at the dining table, fiddling with a spoon. “My driving was fine, right Noona?” he says, his bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

“Yes, Chim,” you agree, laughing at the pleased expression that overtakes his face. Curiously, you walk over to the stove to inspect the food, your jaw dropping as you take in the assorted vegetables and meats. “Wow, Mom. Are you cooking for an army?”

“Jungkook is coming over for dinner,” she explains, following you over and plucking up the spatula again. “That boy has the biggest appetite I’ve ever seen—you remember, right?”

You laugh. “Of course I remember. He and Jimin were always stealing bites of my lunch at school.” Peering over at your brother, you fix him with a mock glare before walking over to the cutting board on the counter and sizing up the pile of onions and peppers sitting there. “It’ll be nice to see him again, though. How is he doing?”

To your surprise, a new voice answers your question—a voice that somehow manages to be simultaneously familiar and foreign. “Why don’t you ask me directly, Noona?” it says, and you whirl around, wide-eyed, to face the newcomer.

This can’t possibly be Jeon Jungkook, is your first thought upon seeing the young man standing in the kitchen doorway. The Jungkook you knew in high school was a scrawny kid—all gangly limbs and a nose that was too big for his face. The Jungkook you knew wore oversized white t-shirts that made him look even younger than he was, a look that was only enhanced by round wire-rimmed glasses that always gave him a look of permanent astonishment. The Jungkook you knew was nowhere near this tall, and definitely not this broad.

But this Jungkook—this Jungkook takes up nearly the entire doorframe with his bulk. Dark eyes stare at you from beneath equally dark hair, his gaze unhindered by his old glasses. A cobalt blue shirt stretches tight over his chest, and you swallow when you notice just how much the buttons are straining to contain the muscle underneath. Black jeans and simple black sneakers complete his outfit, and the entire look is so jarringly different from what you’re used to that you are left momentarily speechless, gaping like a fish out of water. Vaguely, you wonder when he got his ears pierced.

And then Jungkook—or at least, the young man claiming to be Jungkook—takes three steps forward, his entire face melting into a crinkly-eyed grin. You catch a glimpse of the adorably prominent front teeth that always made him look like a rabbit, and that’s all it takes to break the spell.

“Jungkookie!” you exclaim, darting forward to greet him. “It’s been so long!”

“Hi, Noona,” he replies, his grin widening at your approach. In an instant, he has you wrapped up in an embrace, easily lifting you off the floor in a display of strength that would’ve had a lesser woman swooning. His hands curl firmly around your waist, and you have no choice but to wrap yours around his nape, squeaking in protest when he spins you in a full circle.

“Kookie!” you gasp, wriggling helplessly in his grasp and huffing when he only cackles. “Put me down!”

Obediently, Jungkook lowers you back to the ground. His hands linger on your waist until he’s certain that both your feet are planted firmly, and it’s only then that he pulls back to get a good look at your face. “You know I’d never drop you, right?” he asks innocently.

“As if I can trust anything that comes out of your mouth,” you retort with a laugh. “I’ve seen you scam your way out of detention with those pretty doe eyes. Don’t try me, kid.”

Jungkook snorts. “Kid? I’m not that much younger than you. Plus I’m older than Jimin, y’know.”

“By a month!” your brother protests from the dining room, his blond head popping up from behind the vase of daisies serving as a centerpiece.

“Month and a half,” Jungkook stage-whispers to you, cupping a hand and bringing his mouth to your ear conspiratorially. His breath tickles your cheek, and you swat him away with a giggle that becomes a full-on laugh when Jimin lets out an offended cry and rises to his feet. Striding over, he pokes Jungkook squarely in the chest, his eyes narrowed.

“I invite you over to my house and this is the thanks I get?”

Your dad chooses that moment to interrupt from the living room. “Your house? When exactly did you start paying rent, Jimin?”

Jimin’s jaw drops. “Are you taking his side?” he asks in disbelief, glaring at Jungkook when he starts laughing. “I’m your son!”

“I’m your father,” your dad replies.

“And I’m your mother,” your mom pipes up, brandishing a spoon. “And I’m telling all of you to get your butts over to that dining table in the next ten seconds, or no dinner for any of you.”

Your dad, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately fall silent, cowed by her proclamation. Grinning, you join your mother at the counter, grabbing a handful of spoons and accepting the platter of kimchi she hands over. “Direct as always, Mom.”

She laughs and picks up a bowl of rice. “To deal with men like them? You have to be.”

Food in hand, you make your way into the dining room. The table is set, the steaming food arranged neatly in the center, and you watch as your mother takes her seat next to Jimin and leaves you to sit beside Jungkook on the opposite side. Your father beams from his spot at the head of the table, glancing at each of you in turn before turning and giving your shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“Look at you kids, all sitting at the same table again.” He sighs, and you’re certain that he’s thinking back to the last time all of you were together—well over a year ago, at this point. “It’s a shame that your parents couldn’t join us, though, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, they told me to apologize on their behalf. They have tickets for the theatre tonight, and couldn’t get a refund on them.”

Your father laughs and waves the apology off. “I’m sure we’ll catch them next time,” he says. “Pretty hard to avoid each other when you live next door, isn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Jungkook agrees with a chuckle. Then he turns to you, the silver hoops in his ears glinting in the light from the overhead chandelier. “I’m sure they’ll drop by soon to see you, Noona. Mom wants to hear all about Seoul—I think she’s worried about sending me so far away by myself.”

“Junghyun stayed in Busan for university, didn’t he?” your mom asks.

Jungkook nods. “Yep, he still lives downtown and everything. He wanted to come over tonight, but his work wouldn’t let him take the time off.”

Your mom sighs. “That’s such a shame. Is he at least attending your graduation?”

“He’s driving in the day after tomorrow for the ceremony,” Jungkook confirms. Then he pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His gaze flickers down to the plate of sweet potatoes on the other side of the table, and before he can even open his mouth, your mother is already passing him the plate. He thanks her with an embarrassed chuckle but digs into the food nonetheless, and everyone else takes it as a sign to follow suit. You’re in the middle of scooping rice into your bowl when Jimin speaks up again.

“So what’s it like living in Seoul?” he asks, his cheeks bulging with pork belly. “You have roommates, right?”

“Suitemates,” you correct. “But yeah, I live with three other people. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jennie are all great though, so it hasn’t been a problem.”

Jungkook pauses mid-chew to gape at you. “You live with guys?”

“My building’s co-ed,” you explain. “We all have separate bedrooms, but we share a common space and bathrooms.”

Your mother—on the lookout for any potential future grandchildren, as always—perks up. “Namjoon and Hoseok sound like nice boys. Are you friends?”

“Yes, Mom,” you sigh. “We’re friends. Just friends.” And then before she can ask about whether or not any other boys have caught your eye, you quickly turn back to your brother. “So, what’s your plan for next year? Are you and Jungkook living together?”

Jimin hums. “Yep, that’s the plan. Unless you want to live with us too, Noona.”

You laugh. “Why, so I can protect you from all the bullies like I did in elementary school?”

He flashes you a cheeky grin. “More like so I can protect you from all the weird college guys. Who’s this Hoseok guy anyway? Do I need to beat him up?”

“Please don’t beat up Hobi,” you entreaty, giggling when he pretends to crack his knuckles. “Or Joon!” you add quickly when he remains undeterred and makes to stand up from the table to defend your honor. Balling up your napkin, you throw it at him, and both of you burst into hysterics when your makeshift weapon bounces off his forehead and straight into his glass of water. The rest of dinner passes in a haze of similarly playful antics and happy chatter, and by the time the last bowl is scraped clean, it feels as if you’d never even left.

“I’ll do the dishes,” you volunteer, standing up and gathering up the empty platters. Jungkook and Jimin are quick to jump to your aid, collecting any utensils that you missed, and you offer them a grateful smile as they follow you into the kitchen.

“Let me do the washing, Noona.” Jungkook rolls up the sleeves of his cobalt blue shirt to expose a familiar silver watch glinting on his left wrist—a watch that his father handed down to him when he was sixteen, and that had been worn by his grandfather before him. You still remember the day he’d first worn it to school, proudly displaying it even though the band was too loose around his narrow wrist.

He’s grown into it now, you realize. The watch no longer flops around like it used to, and sits snugly in place instead. Your eyes trace the silver buckle on the inside of his wrist before trailing up to follow the network of thin, branching veins in his forearm, admiring the smooth flex of muscle as he grabs a sponge from the wire rack hanging above the sink and squirts some dish soap onto the surface.

“I’ll dry,” Jimin chirps, selecting a towel and brandishing it. “Noona, do you want to help me? We’ll finish faster that way.”

Nodding, you pull another towel out from the drawer and rejoin the two boys at the sink. Jungkook washes quickly and efficiently, and you determinedly avoid staring at the way water trickles along the patchwork veins on his hands as he gives you bowl after bowl to dry.

It doesn’t take long for all the dishes to be washed and dried. The three of you take the time to put them back into the proper cabinets before bidding your parents a good night, heading out onto the back porch. Falling back into old routines feels like second nature, so you plop down onto the steps without hesitation and grin when Jungkook takes a seat beside you.

“Wait, I almost forgot!” Jimin exclaims, bouncing up from where he was beginning to sit down next to Jungkook. “I bought some beer earlier and left it in the trunk. Be right back!”

You watch your brother run off, his floppy blond hair a stark contrast with the deep blue evening sky. In seconds, he’s disappeared around the corner of the house, leaving you and Jungkook alone on the porch steps.

“Chim really hasn’t changed one bit,” you remark with a laugh, turning toward your dark-haired companion.

Jungkook chuckles. “The kid loves his alcohol, that’s for sure.”

“Please.” You elbow him in the ribs. “I know you’re just as bad as he is.”

“Maybe,” he concedes with another chuckle. “But come on, Noona, you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy a drink every now and then. What about all that college stress?”

You hum, leaning back on your hands and staring up at the sky where the full moon is just beginning to rise, surrounded by a smattering of stars peeking through the velvety darkness of night. “I never said that I didn’t enjoy a drink, or five.” Jungkook laughs at your remark, and you smile before letting out a soft sigh. “I’m glad Jimin got the beer, though. Maybe I’ll finally be able to stop stressing out about my internship.”

That sobers Jungkook up immediately, his eyes widening as he peers down at you and lays a gentle hand on your back. “Are you still worried? You already got the job, didn’t you?”

You nod slowly, thinking back to the job offer that you had accepted at the end of the semester. It had been difficult finding a company in your desired field that offered internships to first-year students, but with dogged persistence and a lot of luck, you’d managed to snag a summer position. It isn’t due to start for another three weeks, however, and while you’re grateful for the chance to visit your family, part of you also wishes that you didn’t have to wait such a long time. “I just have no idea what to expect, you know? The only jobs I’ve ever had were in retail and food service, and that was all ages ago. I don’t feel ready at all.”

A strong arm settles across your shoulders, and you look up to see Jungkook gazing down at you with something indiscernible sparkling in his deep brown eyes. “You’re gonna be amazing,” he murmurs, his voice whisper-soft. “You know that, right? You always are. This won’t be any different.”

And you believe him. Every detail of his face is bathed in silvery moonlight—the gentle slope of his nose, the sharp angle of his jaw, the little scar high on his cheekbone—and you wonder how you never realized how handsome he is before now. And maybe it’s the low, soothing timbre of his voice, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you—with unspeakable tenderness and gentle affection glimmering in his irises—but you lean in before you can even realize what you’re doing. You don’t look away, and neither does he.

Jungkook’s gaze drops, trailing down the slope of your cheeks until it lands on the curve of your mouth. He hesitates for a split second, his throat bobbing harshly as he swallows and sucks in a breath.

And then his lips are pressing against yours—soft and tentative and just a little bit chapped. Your eyes flutter shut almost on instinct, your body relaxing as he shifts and pulls you a little more firmly against him. Slowly, his arm finds its way to the curve of your waist and settles there. Your fingers curl around his nape, carding through his silky hair.

It’s only when Jungkook’s tongue darts out to run along the seam of your lips that reality comes crashing back down, your stomach plummeting down to somewhere around your toes as you wrench away from his embrace. “Kookie!” you gasp, your breathing labored. “We can’t!”

Jungkook blinks, momentarily entrancing you with the way the stars reflect in his gaze like glittering diamonds. “Why not?” he asks, reaching out for you again. “You kissed me back, didn’t you?”

Squeaking, you bat his hands away. “Jungkook, no! We can’t! You’re Jimin’s best friend, and god, this is all kinds of weird, and—“

The dark-haired young man looks like he wants to protest more, but the sound of footsteps coming back around the house sends both of you scooting back to your original positions on the porch steps. Jimin appears two seconds later, plopping down beside Jungkook cheerfully and dropping a six-pack of beer at his feet.

“What’d I miss?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to the tension lingering in the air as he pops open a bottle and hands it to you.

“Nothing,” you say immediately, accepting the proffered beer. The cool glass bottle is a welcome relief, and you hurriedly take a long sip when your mind unwillingly begins to wander back to just how warm and soft your dark-haired companion’s lips had been.

Jungkook is much slower to respond to Jimin’s question. His shoulders slump as he reaches down to grab a drink of his own, twisting the cap open viciously and taking a swig. “Yeah,” he mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nothing at all.”

Luck must be on your side, because Jimin doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss as he grabs a beer for himself and flops backward, resting his weight on his elbows as he gazes up at the night sky. “It’s nice out,” he remarks, looking utterly at ease.

You are anything but. Beside you, Jungkook is sipping pensively on his beer, and you are painfully aware of the heat radiating off his body. Jimin is still chattering away, rambling about whatever pops into his head, and you take the opportunity to sneak a glance at Jungkook. His face is cast in silvery luminescence from the moon, his mouth pulled down into a deep, contemplative frown—and you are once again forced to shake off thoughts of how nice it felt to have his mouth pressed against yours.

This is Jeon Jungkook, you tell yourself sternly. Friend, neighbor, and Jimin’s best friend in the entire universe. You kissed him, sure, but it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. And it won’t happen again.

You repeat that over and over, silently reciting it in your head like a mantra, until, at last, you finally start to believe it.

///

You’re in the middle of brewing a fresh pot of coffee after a lazy morning spent sleeping in when you spot Jungkook outside through the kitchen window. He’s standing in the yard in a sleeveless white tee, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand as he thoughtfully regards the row of hedges that serves as the property line between your house and the Jeons’ house next door. In his other hand is a shovel, and you can’t help the way your gaze automatically traces his exposed biceps, admiring the way they flex when he finally selects a spot and begins digging.

“Is the coffee done yet, Noona?”

Jimin’s voice yanks your attention away from your gardening neighbor, your vision overtaken by a mess of fluffy blond bedhead as he sneaks into the space between you and the counter and obnoxiously cuts you off from the pot of fresh brew. “Hey!” you protest, but Jimin just gives you a cheeky wink before grabbing a mug and pouring out a generous helping of piping hot coffee. After a moment’s thought, he pours you a mug as well, handing it over with an exaggerated bow.

You roll your eyes, but accept the warm cup nonetheless. Following him into the living room, you make yourself comfortable on the couch as he flops down onto the carpeted floor and turns on the television. Idly, he begins flipping through the channels in search for something to watch, and you endure random snippets of the morning news, a cheesy soap opera, and a series of infomercials before sighing and rising to your feet again. “I’m getting some food. Want some toast, Chimchim?”

“Mmm. Sure.”

Slowly, you meander your way back into the kitchen. Your mother is standing at the counter stirring sugar into her coffee, and you smile as you walk up to join her. “Morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, sweetie,” she says, taking a careful sip of her drink. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” you reply with a grin. Grabbing the loaf of bread off the counter, you pull out a few slices and shove them in the toaster. “Do you want toast? I’m making some for me and Chimchim.”

“Just one slice for me,” she says, opening up the dish cabinet and pulling out three plates. Obligingly, you hand her one of the two freshly toasted slices and drop the other onto your plate. Popping some more bread into the toaster, you’re just about to grab the jam from the fridge when there’s a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it!” Jimin yells from the living room. You hear the soft pad of his footsteps in the hallway and the low creak of the front door as it swings open—and then your brother is snorting out a laugh at whoever is on your doorstep. “Dude, why are you covered in dirt?”

You’re beginning to have a sneaking suspicion as to who your guest is, and it’s confirmed when your brother’s question is answered.

“I’m helping Mom plant some hydrangeas out back,” Jungkook’s voice explains, his tall figure stepping into view a moment later. “Can you come help me lift the bushes?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “You could’ve just texted me.”

“Who knows if you would’ve answered?” Jungkook asks, laughing. “Knowing you, you’d just leave me on read. Besides—” and here he glances over at you, dark eyes glimmering with an emotion that you can’t quite pinpoint, “—I wouldn’t get to see two of my favorite ladies if I didn’t stop by.”

Jimin pretends to vomit at the line, but your mother laughs delightedly as Jungkook takes another step into the foyer and flashes her a winning grin. “Good morning, Jungkookie,” she greets him. “Have you eaten breakfast yet? {Name} was just making some toast, and we’ve got fresh coffee.”

Jungkook’s gaze slides over to you again, taking in the flannel pajama pants and oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says, though his eyes never leave yours. “I ate already, but coffee sounds wonderful.”

You are beginning to feel increasingly vulnerable as Jungkook continues looking unblinkingly in your direction. Thankfully, your mom pipes up, drawing his attention away with a decisive clap of her hands. “Coffee it is, then!” she says brightly. “{Name}, why don’t you grab Jungkook a cup?”

Hurriedly, you turn toward the cabinets, trying your best to ignore Jungkook as he chats comfortably with your family. Your success is limited though, and you can feel his penetrating stare lingering on your back even as you fetch a mug and fill it up to the brim.

“Noona.” Jungkook’s voice comes from behind you, much closer than you remember him being. “Can I have some cream and sugar, please?”

Somehow, you manage to reply without stammering. “Yeah. Sure.” Dumping some of the excess coffee into the sink, you spoon in some sugar and give it a quick stir. Just as you turn toward the refrigerator for the cream, a strong arm cuts you off.

“I got it, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs, backing you up against the counter as he tucks the little white carton into your outstretched hand. His proximity has your heart skipping several beats, and you almost drop the carton entirely when he speaks again in a husky whisper, his mouth at the shell of your ear. “Just a little bit, please.”

You are acutely aware of the heat radiating off of his body, warming your back and flushing your cheeks. Quietly, you open up the carton and pour a splash of cream into his mug, the swirl of white melding with the dark liquid within. “Is—is that enough?”

Jungkook reaches around you to open up the silverware drawer, grabbing a spoon and giving the coffee a stir. “That’s perfect,” he purrs, his hot breath stirring gooseflesh on the back of your neck.

This close to him, it’s easy to forget where you are and who you’re with, but you somehow manage to regain enough of your senses to wrench away and reclaim your personal space. “G-great,” you stammer, picking up the mug and shoving it into his hands, determinedly ignoring the ripple of his arm muscles as he accepts. “Um. Chim. Did you want your toast?”

“Yes, please,” Jimin says, barely glancing up from where he’s made himself comfortable at the kitchen island, idly playing on his phone.

Your mother pokes her head around the doorframe of the adjoining laundry room, where she has clearly started a fresh load if the sound of splashing water is anything to go by. “Don’t make your sister do all of the work, Jimin. Go help her—it’s your food, isn’t it?”

Obligingly, Jimin hops off the stool and grabs his favorite jar of jam, joining you at the counter. He takes the slice of toast you offer him, slathering it messily and taking an enormous bite. “Thanks for breakfast, Noona,” he says, blowing you an exaggerated kiss. “Ready, Kook?”

Jungkook raises his mug of coffee in acknowledgement. “Ready.” Then his gaze flickers back to you, twinkling with silent mirth. “And Noona—thanks. The coffee’s delicious.”

You can’t find the words to answer. Silently, you watch him disappear out the front door with Jimin, following his dark head of hair as it bobs across the yard. His biceps flex as he gestures for Jimin to help him lift a hydrangea bush, and your eyes linger on the stretch of defined muscle, tracing the network of prominent veins running along his forearm before your brain can caution you to stop. It’s almost as if you’re on autopilot, and by the time you zone back in, your gaze has wandered too far south for your liking. Letting out an audible groan, you tear your eyes away from the mouthwatering view of his thick thighs and return to your now-cold breakfast. And you don’t think about Jeon Jungkook again, pushing the image of his broad shoulders and handsome face into the darkest recesses of your mind.

Or at least, that was the plan. Jimin comes back inside after about an hour, tracking mud through half the house before your mother reprimands him and orders him to take off his shoes. Jungkook, thankfully, chose to return to his own home as well, and you immediately banish the thought of him showering off all the sweat and grime that has no doubt accumulated on his toned body. You shove away the mental image of water slicking his golden skin and collecting in the hollows of his collarbones, and when your mind conjures up pictures of what lies south of his waist, you resist the urge to scream into the pile of freshly laundered pillowcases your mom presses into your arms.

You’re just about to head upstairs to scream into a real pillow when there’s another knock on your front door—a familiar cadence that you heard just this morning. And that’s when you realize—to your complete and utter dismay—that Jeon Jungkook isn’t done tormenting you yet. Not by a long shot.

“You again? You do realize that this isn’t your house, right?” you ask, swinging open the door and thanking whatever gods may be out there that your voice remains steady. Then you raise a brow, glancing down at his change in attire. “Wait, why are you wearing a suit?”

Jungkook gives you an infuriatingly impish grin. “Do I need a reason?” His hair is still damp from the shower, a stray lock flopping down across his forehead, and as you watch him brush it away absently, you notice that he’s holding something in his free hand.

“What’s that?” you ask curiously.

Footsteps sound from behind you, interrupting before he can answer. “Jungkookie?” your mother asks, appearing at the foot of the stairs. “I thought I heard your voice. Are you here for Jimin again?”

Jungkook flashes her a winning smile and raises the garment bag he’s holding. “No, I was actually hoping to get some advice. I’ve got my suit ready to go for graduation tomorrow, but I can’t decide which shirt looks better. My mom likes how I look in blue, but I wanted a second opinion from you and Noona.”

To your utter annoyance, your mother coos and gestures for him to come in. He’s already wearing the blue shirt—a pale periwinkle one that reminds you of a cloudless day—but your mom takes the garment bag out of his hand and unzips it to look inside. “What are your options?” she asks.

“Blue, red, and yellow,” Jungkook replies, pulling each shirt off its hanger and holding them up to his chest in turn. “What do you think, Mrs. Park?”

“The blue is lovely,” your mom says thoughtfully, straightening his collar. “But this shade of yellow looks nice too. A handsome young man like you—you really can’t go wrong with any of these.”

Jungkook grins and scratches behind his ear, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Thanks, Mrs. Park.”

The dryer chooses that moment to beep shrilly, signalling the end of its cycle, and your mother darts off to tend to it, leaving you and Jungkook alone in the living room.

“What about you, Noona?” Jungkook asks, just as you’re about to try and sneak out under the pretense of helping with the laundry. “Which shirt do you like?”

“Does it matter?” you ask. “It’s just going to be hidden underneath those horrible black trash bags they make you wear.”

He laughs. “Sure, but what about before and after? You know my mom’s going to want to take a million pictures.”

“Can’t argue there.” Resigning yourself to your fate, you put your stack of clean pillowcases down on the arm of the couch and cross your arms over your chest. “Show them to me again?”

Jungkook raises the yellow shirt, holding it up for a few seconds before swapping it out for the red. “Well?”

You pause to consider it. “Red,” you decide after some deliberation, pointing at your choice. It’s a deep crimson color—almost burgundy—and you rub the silky material between your fingertips before taking it and replacing it onto its hanger. Jungkook joins you with the yellow shirt, his arm bumping into yours as you both reach for the garment bag, and even though you flinch away from the contact, Jungkook doesn’t let you stray very far. A strong hand clamps down around your forearm, and you inhale sharply when he backs you up against the wall and cages you in with his solid body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Jungkook looks thoroughly unfazed as he blinks a few loose strands of hair out of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Jungkook—” you hiss, struggling to see over his shoulder if your mother has returned. “Get off me.”

“Come on, Noona,” Jungkook murmurs. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me. Ever since you got back—ever since we kissed—”

“A mistake,” you say, cutting him off with a finger to the lips and glancing around furtively to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “That was a mistake.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Was it? Because I really wanted to kiss you, and I’m pretty sure you wanted to kiss me too. You kissed back, didn’t you?”

“Y-you—“ You clear your throat and try again, cringing at how shaky your voice comes out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But Jungkook simply laughs. “Don’t I?” He inches closer until you’re chest to chest, his gaze darkening as it flickers downward and lands on your mouth. Your heartbeat quickens, thudding erratically in your ribcage. It would be so easy to push to your tiptoes and close the distance between your lips.

“God,” you huff. “You’re so—”

His other eyebrow rises to join the first. “I’m so—?” he presses, tilting his head as he awaits your answer. The loose lock of hair flops across his forehead again, and this time you cannot stop yourself from reaching up to brush it away.

“Shut up,” you hiss as your fingers drop down to wind into the soft hair at his nape. “Just shut up.”

And then you’re kissing him—really, really kissing him—pulling him down to your level and sliding your free hand up his infuriatingly toned chest.

“See?” Jungkook’s lips curl up into a smug smirk as he pulls away slightly, his warm breath fanning across your cheeks with every word. “I knew you were into me.”

“God, do you ever stop talking?” you retort, pushing him back until you have enough room to switch your positions and maneuver him against the wall.

Jungkook lets you pin him in place, blinking down at you lazily with his mouth still stretched into that maddening little smirk. “Only if you make me, Noona.” His hands slide down your sides, coming to a stop at your hips in an ironclad grip. “Only if you kiss me like that again.”

So you do. Your fingers tighten in his hair as you crush your mouth to his, and when his lips part you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook—still smirking—relaxes and lets you take control of the kiss, but his hands continue to wander. Before you know it, he’s already snuck underneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing warm circles into the soft skin of your waist. His lips move languidly against yours, his tongue careful and gentle in its exploration of your mouth, and you sigh when he tugs you closer. You’re pressed flush against him by this point, pinning him between your body and the wall, and neither you nor he have any intent to move anytime soon.

The sudden slamming of a door jerks you back to reality. Here you are, standing in the living room where anyone could walk by and see you kissing your brother’s best friend—again. Shakily, you pull away from Jungkook with your heart in your throat, putting as much space as you possibly can between your bodies. “Fuck,” you mutter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. We can’t do this.”

Jungkook’s chest is heaving, his lips swollen and red. “{Name}—” he tries, but you shake your head and cut him off before he can continue.

“You need to leave,” you whisper.

“But—”

“Please,” you say, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. “Please, Jungkook. Just leave.”

Jungkook swallows, hard. And then, much to your relief, he picks up his garment bag, shoving both shirts back inside. “Okay,” he rasps. “I’ll go.”

Elsewhere in the house, you can hear your mother calling for Jimin. Your father is watching TV in his study—you can hear the low hum of voices and a laugh track. Your entire family is here.

And yet, you’ve never felt more alone as you watch Jungkook stride down the hallway and disappear out the front door.

///

Returning to your high school is odd. The hallways and classrooms are familiar, but they all seem smaller than you remember. And were the ceilings always this short? You aren’t sure. What you are sure of, however, is that Jungkook and his family are currently headed your way, with beaming smiles on their faces and colorful flower bouquets in hand. Greetings and congratulations are exchanged, and it isn’t long before you are face-to-face with Jungkook himself, a tight smile on his face as he meets your eyes.

“Hi, Noona.”

“Hi,” you reply. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

Now that the graduation ceremony is over, he’s taken off his robe to reveal the red shirt underneath. The silky material drapes over his torso and clings to the toned planes of his chest, and your fingers itch to run across the defined muscle. Swallowing down the urge, you instead gesture toward his parents, who are engaged in deep conversation with your own parents while Jimin chats with Junghyun off to the side. “I guess we’re all getting dinner after this, huh?”

He nods. “Yeah, at that one place downtow—“

“Jungkook! Jimin!” A feminine voice interrupts him mid-sentence, and you watch in surprise as both your brother and Jungkook are suddenly engulfed in a massive tangle of limbs. Immediately, you recognize Jisoo and Lisa—two girls you considered casual friends from your own high school days. The third girl in the trio of friends—Chaeyoung—is noticeably absent, but you don’t get a chance to question her whereabouts. “Can you believe it? We’re graduates!” Lisa is saying excitedly, still clutching tightly onto Jungkook’s shoulders. She’s pressed flush against him, her chest molded to his, and the sudden rush of jealousy that takes root in the pit of your stomach takes you aback with its ferocity.

Calm the fuck down, you instruct your pounding heart. Stop it, right now.

“Has Tae told you about the party tomorrow night?” Jisoo asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You guys better be there—and that means you, too, {Name}! It’s been forever since we’ve seen you!”

You clear your throat and attempt to smile. “Yeah, it’s been way too long. It’ll be nice to finally catch up.” Unwillingly, your gaze flickers back over to Jungkook and Lisa, doing your best to maintain a neutral expression when you notice the casual way his arm drapes over her shoulders.

Your attempts are in vain. Jungkook notices your stare immediately, a massive shit-eating grin spreading across his face. One eyebrow rises in a silent taunt, and you swear his grip around her tightens. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you instead turn back to Jisoo, finally voicing the question that’s on your mind.

“So, where’s Chaeyoung? I saw her during the ceremony, but haven’t seen her around since. She didn’t leave already, did she?”

“No, she’s still here,” Jisoo answers, exchanging a look with Lisa. Curiosity piqued, you watch her gaze dart over to Jungkook for a split second before returning to you, a tiny smile gracing her face once more. “She’s with her family right now, but she’ll be at the party tomorrow.”

“I’ll congratulate her there, then,” you say, returning her smile with one of her own. Silently, you wonder at the uneasy glance the two girls had exchanged, but decide not to press it, chalking it up to some senior year drama that isn’t any of your business.

“Well, we should probably get going,” Jisoo says after another beat. “We’re off to dinner.”

“We should be on our way too,” you agree, glancing over at where your parents are still chatting, having absorbed Junghyun into their conversation at some point. Bidding the two girls goodbye, you sidle over to join them, trying your best to subtly nudge your parents toward the door.

After what feels like an eternity, your parents finally decide that they’re ready for a change in scenery. The drive to the restaurant is blessedly short, much to the relief of your grumbling stomach, and you are more than grateful for the brief reprieve from Jungkook and his knowing smirk. It doesn’t last long, however, and you mentally brace yourself when you spot the Jeons’ car in the parking lot of the restaurant. Upon entering, you are quickly ushered to your reserved table where the Jeons are already waiting, and somehow in the shuffle you end up right between Jungkook and Junghyun, the former’s face dissolving into a satisfied grin as he watches you sit down.

Then he turns to Jimin, who’s seated on his other side. “Hey, man.”

You bristle at the blatant way he’s ignoring you. But two can play at that game, so you turn to Junghyun with a winning smile, laying a hand on his shoulder for good measure. The older Jeon brother is four years your senior, but despite the age difference, you’ve always gotten along well.

“Junghyun, I haven’t seen you in ages! How have you been?”

The elder Jeon grins and leans in to give you a hug. “Good, good—work’s insane, but that’s old news. What about you? How’s school going so far?”

You can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you, hot and heavy. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle under the weight of it, and you resist the urge to shiver. Instead, you give Junghyun’s bicep a final squeeze before pulling away, steadfastly ignoring the way Jungkook lets out a disgruntled hiss from between his teeth.

“School is good,” you tell Junghyun. “I’m trying to get all my general requirements out of the way early, so my first semester wasn’t very interesting. I took some more focused classes in the second, though, which made things infinitely better.”

The elder Jeon laughs. “Guess that means you’re on the right track then, huh?”

“Guess so,” you reply, laughing right along with him.

The server stops by to take drink orders, and your parents take it upon themselves to order food for the table as well. You continue chatting amicably with Junghyun as the server returns with a tray of water, sodas, and soju; beside you, Jungkook does the same with Jimin. The only break in conversation comes when the server—a pretty girl with a chirpy voice and a nametag that reads ‘Mina’—leans over to set a glass of Coke down in front of Jungkook. He thanks her with a crooked smirk and a low purr of gratitude that has her cheeks flushing pink, and it’s all you can do not to gape at him like a fish. The flirtatious quirk of his lips, the seductive tone—it all comes far too naturally to him, and you wonder for a moment just where the old Jungkook has gone. The Jungkook you used to know stammered every time he had to talk to an unfamiliar girl, and had trouble looking even you in the eye despite having known you since grade school.

But now, he’s nowhere to be found. The young man sitting beside you remains as calm as can be, shifting his body toward Mina so that he can request a straw.

“Of course, here you go!” Mina’s gaze lingers on his hand as he accepts the proffered straw, eyes widening when his fingers brush against hers lightly.

“Fast service,” Jungkook remarks, his voice dipping into a low, indolent drawl. “I like that.”

Mina giggles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She’s clearly about to respond to him—flirt right back, undoubtedly—but your father stands up and taps his glass with a spoon before she can open her mouth. “I want to make a toast,” he says, and you send him a silent, heartfelt thank you when Mina wisely chooses to make herself scarce. “Congratulations to Jungkook and Jimin, our two rad grads!”

An audible groan rises up from your side of the table, where Jimin has buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god, Dad.”

“What?” your father asks innocently. “I really think you’re rad, grad!”

Jimin groans again, muffled by the sleeves of his jacket. “I want the earth to swallow me whole.”

Laughter all around. More toasts are given, and the bottles of soju scattered around the table slowly dwindle down to their last dregs. Junghyun picks up the one closest to him and fills up your glass for the fourth time, drawing a protesting whine from your lips as you try to cut him off. “Wait, that’s not fair! Pour some for yourself too!”

“Relax, we can always order more,” Junghyun says with a laugh, topping off your glass before glancing around to find Mina. Much to your irritation, she’s already headed your way, bearing loaded platters of meat and vegetables and wearing a bright smile that seems to only be directed to Jungkook.

“I hope you’re all hungry!” she chirps, coming to a stop between you and the subject of her affections. You swear she shoots you a dirty look over her shoulder before turning back to the table, her cheerful facade back in place as she smiles at Jungkook. “Where did you want me to put the meat?”

“Anywhere it’ll fit,” Jungkook tells her with a suggestive smirk, keeping his voice soft enough so that only you and she can hear.

Mina cannot hide her answering smile. Likewise, you cannot hide the way your nostrils flare, throat bobbing as you swallow down the ugly feelings bubbling up in your chest. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze roving across your skin, but you refuse to look at him, stubbornly facing the front as Mina distributes food around the table. As soon as she’s departed again—her fingers brushing across the back of Jungkook’s chair in the process—you’re up and out of your seat, heart beating faster than you’d like to admit.

“Restroom,” you say shortly by way of explanation. It’s thankfully empty when you arrive, and you immediately make a beeline toward the sink to splash some cold water on your cheeks.

It’s absurd—this snaking jealousy coiling in your belly and winding up between the slats of your ribcage. Straightening up, you give your reflection in the mirror a stern look, silently willing the feelings in your chest to abate. Gradually, your heartbeat slows into a regular rhythm, your cheeks cooling, and after waiting another two minutes, you decide that it’s been long enough. Drying off your hands, you exit the restroom and wind your way back to the table, keeping your pace leisurely even when Jungkook looks up and catches your eye. His expression is unreadable, and you valiantly ignore his burning gaze as you take a seat.

“How is everything?” you ask Junghyun, picking up a spoon and piling your plate with food from the nearest platter.

Junghyun pauses mid-bite to answer. His mouth opens, but you don’t catch his answer because there is a sudden, heavy weight on your knee. A warm palm caresses the skin exposed by the hem of your dress, slow and sensual and deliberate. Your eyes widen and your lips part, but no sound escapes. The rest of the table’s occupants fade away into the background, conversations and laughter dulling into a low drone. Beside you, Junghyun is still talking, but all you can hear is blood rushing through your ears.

And on your other side, Jungkook is smirking.

The bastard.

Gentle fingertips skim along your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Your entire body stiffens, but Jungkook refuses to relent. He’s still chatting with Jimin, chuckling at a joke you didn’t hear, and you wonder how he can remain so calm when you are anything but. Your heart takes off in a sprint, clattering wildly against your ribcage, and for a few moments you are absolutely positive that everyone at the table can hear. Any moment, one of your parents will look over and see how wide your eyes are and how warm your cheeks feel. Any moment, Jimin will look down and see his best friend’s arm snaking beneath the table and realize what’s happening.

And then Jungkook squeezes your thigh, and all thought flies out of your head, dissipating like fog in the sunlight. He’s growing increasingly bold, his fingers trailing up until he can trace the hem of your dress, teasing at the soft material. Your breath hitches in your throat, and Jungkook’s smirk widens. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hide his smugness behind his soju glass, and for a moment you’re tempted to throw his drink in his face.

But more than that—more than anything else right now—you want him to continue touching you.

He’s sliding beneath your dress now, inching down to the delicate skin of your inner thigh and tracing nonsensical patterns there. You grip the edge of the table as he trails closer and closer to the lace of your panties, knuckles turning white against the dark wood. It’s a wonder no one has noticed your flustered state yet, and you cast concerned glances at Junghyun and Jimin before Jungkook notices your inattention. Punishingly, he slides a single finger into your panties, snapping the lace against your skin and covering the sound with a cough that he buries in his elbow. He can’t hide the way you jolt in your seat though, your knee thudding against the table. Junghyun gives you a worried look, laying a hand on your shoulder as he asks if you’re okay, and you hurriedly nod. And underneath the table, Jungkook resumes his ministrations, languorous and soft and deliberately avoiding the place you need him most, as if he has all the time in the world.

There’s a growing damp spot between your legs. You can feel it seeping through the cottony material of your panties, sticking uncomfortably to your folds. Jungkook’s touch is whisper-soft, caressing along your thigh until your skin is tingling, and it’s all you can do to swallow down the whimper that’s bubbling up in your throat. He’s thoroughly enjoying this—you can tell—and you’re certain he can feel the way you tense up when he suddenly drags a single finger up your clothed slit. A low hiss escapes your parted lips, and in an instant, all eyes are on you.

“Noona?” Jimin asks curiously. “Something wrong?”

“I—” Your mind whirs, searching for an excuse. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. The, uh, sauce was just spicier than I was expecting it to be.”

You haven’t touched a single thing on your plate in minutes, but no one seems to notice your obvious lie. Conversation resumes, and you determinedly pick up your spoon again, intent on getting something more substantial in your belly than the fluttering butterflies that have taken up residence there.

“You sure you want to eat that, Noona?” Jungkook’s voice reaches your ears—a low, dulcet purr that sends electricity shooting down your spine. “You should probably drink some water to cool down.”

And before you can answer—before you even manage to reach for your water glass—he’s slipped his hand into your panties, the warm pad of his thumb pressing experimentally against your clit. The slight pressure has you gasping, your heart pounding hard enough to leap out of your chest as you drop your spoon. Your hands drop down to your lap—one gripping the edge of your chair while the other finds its way around Jungkook’s wrist, and you aren’t sure whether you’re trying to stop him or spur him on. His arm muscles flex underneath your fingertips, and that’s all the warning you get before he angles his hand, a lone finger sinking inside your drenched entrance.

“Oh, fuck.” You can’t stop the strangled curse that escapes your lips, an airy hiss from behind clenched teeth. Your grip on Jungkook’s wrist tightens, but it doesn’t seem to dissuade him at all as he begins a leisurely pace, sinking deeper into your cunt with each thrust.

Luckily, no one hears your whimper. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you bite back the sounds threatening to spill out and instead focus on maintaining as neutral an expression as you can muster. Beneath the table, Jungkook remains relentless. Even when your mother looks over and addresses him directly, he doesn’t cease his ministrations, keeping both his tone and his pace even as he responds.

“Jungkookie, you’ve barely touched your pork belly. Are you full already?”

“Stuffed,” Jungkook replies smoothly. He punctuates the word by adding a second finger, and you almost bang your knee on the table again, your eyes going wide at his audacity.

Your mother pushes the platter of meat closer to him anyway. “No need to be polite, honey. Here, eat up.”

Obligingly, Jungkook picks out a few pieces with his free hand and piles them on his plate. “Thanks, Mrs. Park,” he says as he brings some to his mouth. “It’s delicious.”

Satisfied, your mother turns her attention elsewhere. Jungkook returns his to you, and you almost groan aloud when his thumb brushes against your clit again, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bud before he sheathes both fingers inside you once more. There’s a growing heat coiling in the pit of your stomach by this point, lighting every single one of your nerves on fire. Your body is screaming for release, and Jungkook seems more than eager to give it to you. He’s freed his wrist from your grip, leaving you to clutch helplessly at the table as he angles his fingers upward. No doubt he’s searching for the spot that will have you seeing stars, and you know he’s found it when a sudden burst of pleasure spikes through you. Your mouth falls lax, and Jungkook grins, thoroughly satisfied.

There’s something building inside you, something that has your tummy tensing and your toes curling in your shoes. Jungkook’s fingers dig deep, his palm rubbing against your clit with every thrust, and it takes every remaining ounce of your self-control to resist the urge to rock your hips into his hand. A bit more of that delicious friction, and you’ll be falling over the edge. You know it, and so does Jungkook if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

And then a voice is pulling you back to reality, a warm hand settling on your shoulder. You flinch at the contact, your startled gaze flying up to Junghyun’s, and balk when you see him staring at you with equal parts amusement and concern.

“I—what?” you stammer. “Did… did you say something?”

Beneath the table, you feel Jungkook’s fingers retreat, leaving you empty and aching for release. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook wipe his glistening hand on his napkin, a frown that can only be described as petulant settling onto his face.

“Whoa, relax!” Junghyun drags your attention back to him, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I just wanted to say goodbye. I have to be up early for work tomorrow, so I’m driving back into the city tonight.”

“Oh!” It takes you a few seconds to process his words. “Right, yeah. Have a safe drive back. It was good to see you.”

“Ditto,” he replies, flashing you a warm grin. “But hey, are you all right? You’ve been a little weird the whole night. Was it the food?”

Gratefully, you seize upon the excuse. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I think maybe something isn’t sitting quite right in my stomach, but I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it.”

He nods and leans in for a hug. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“You too. Bye, Junghyun.”

With the elder Jeon brother’s departure, everyone else quickly decides that it’s time to disperse as well. You adamantly refuse to look in Jungkook’s direction as your parents fight over the bill, focusing your goodbyes on Mr. and Mrs. Jeon even when he glances your way with a knowing little smirk and a soft murmur of, “Bye, Noona.”

You can’t look at him. Not when every movement reminds you just how damp your panties are, your core begging for relief. Not when he’s waggling his fingers in farewell—the gesture anything but innocent. “Bye,” you warble weakly, before fleeing to the car.

The memory of his fingers burns fresh in your mind later that night as you lie in bed, your hand stuffed down your panties and working furiously to find that sweet, sweet relief.

[drakenology]

Yeah, My Boyfriend’s In A Band

guitarist!todoroki x fem!reader

summary: something straight outta wattpad! you go to a rock band’s concert and stand front row of the stage. The band’s vocalist /guitarist catches your eye and.. well, the rest is history! this is the story of how you first met.

author’s note: soooo.. how yall been? i kinda said fuck it to the schedule i made. why force myself to make content when I just can’t ya know? I’d much rather upload content when it’s at it’s best. so enjoy! I used some lyrics from some of my favorite rock songs for this, can you guess em? Also the art work above isn’t mine!

warnings: smut (duh.), drug use (weed), size kink, pinch of daddy kink, spitting, degradation

It was a hot Saturday night. You were all dressed up and excited to see your favorite heavy metal band the Diaspora play in your city. You were a huge fan, their posters adorned your bedroom walls. You’ve been a fan since they first came out as a cover band.

The members were all pretty fuckin cute, especially the band’s front man. Todoroki Shoto.

He was so handsome; black and red half and half hair, grey sullen eyes, the sexy scar on the left side of his face only adding to the edginess of his visage. His tattoos coated his left arm in a sleeve, his eyebrow pierced as well as his lower lip. He was fucking hot. Obviously not the kind of guy who would pay any attention to you right?

You threw on the Diaspora t-shirt you bought just weeks before the show and tied it in the back so it could be a little cropped and called your uber, frantically spraying perfume in a panic that you were going to be late to the concert. You ran outside, saying goodnight to your roommate as you rush out the door and jump into the car.

“Hey. I’m Shoto Todoroki and I’m the lead singer and guitarist for the band The Diaspora. Hope to see you guys at the show tonight at 8.” You hear as smoothe and sultry voice play over the radio.

You swoon and text some buddies who were also going to the show in excitement, the rush going straight to your brain in a haze as you blast some of their music in your headphones.

When you arrive to the stadium, you spot your best friend from highschool Nejire Hado. You two actually grew up together and even graduated together. It was like you two were sisters, inseparable since birth. Nejire saw you and waved excitedly, squealing with glee and motioned you to come to her spot in line.

“Y/N!!!! Over here!!” She yelled, causing you to run over and jump up and down with her.

“I can’t believe we’re finally here!” You say.

“Me either! Hey, did you hear? There’s rumor’s going around that their having an after party after the show! We have to go, Y/N please say yes.” Nejire rambled, clapping her hands with an inability to contain her excitement.

You look down at your shoes, unsure at first. What if you aren’t even allowed inside? It could be VIP only.

“Fuck it. Let’s go!” You say, causing Nejire to scream and laugh with joy.

Suddenly, the band’s security comes outside to greet the fans waiting to come inside for the show.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please enter in a single fil-“ the poor guy couldn’t even finish his sentence before hundreds of eager fans rush past him and squeeze into the stadium doors, running as fast as the could to get to their seats.

Luckily for you and Nejire, you had front row tickets. Those days of refreshing the page for them as they sold out every second really paid off. You grab Nejire’s hand and run inside, elbowing and clawing your way through to your spot with your best friend by your side. The lights suddenly go dim and the crowd goes insane.

The show’s about to start. You heart seemed to float up into your throat as you stood sweating and nervous, Nejire screaming her head off and jumping up and down when the band came rising up from the bottom of the stage. Smoke covers them for a while until it clears and all you see is Todoroki standing above you, the real him finally being exposed to you as you gaze from the crowd.

He was even more handsome in person. Tonight he wore black jeans and a white band tank top ,showing off his muscular and tattooed arms. Chains hung on his hip and his boots as he propped his foot up on the amplifier in front of him.

“YOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” He screamed into the mic, causing the crowd to scream impossibly louder. He smirked, causing you to feel woozy just seeing him look so smug, as if he knew the effects he had on his fans.

You could’ve died right there a happy woman as the band started to play their hit single, the gritty sound of the electric guitar sending chills up your spine as you and Nejire headbang and dance to the music. You sing along to the top of your lungs, watching as Todoroki owned the stage. You gaze up at him again to see something completely and utterly unbelievable.

He was looking right at you.

You gasp, your eyes widening as you lock eyes with him. Shoto kneeled down towards you and reached his hand out to you. You almost scream and grab his tattooed hand with both of your own and smile at him, keeping your eyes focused on his. Shoto took your hand and kissed it as he sang a pretty racy part of his song to you,

“I wanna take you home.” (sleeping with sirens fans?? your nickle aint worth my dime???? NO?)

Oh. My. God

“OH MY FUCKING GOD! Y/N, HE-“ Nejire screamed, just as excited as you. You stood there shocked and flustered, staring into space. Todoroki fucking Shoto just kissed your hand. Shoto smirked and let your hand go, continuing the rest of his show in hopes you got the message. He wanted you. It was common sense that you go to the afterparty now.

The show continued for another 2 hours, Todoroki now dripping in sweat from the hot lights shining upon him and his band.

“Thank you all so much for coming out. For those invited, I’ll see you all at the afterparty! Goodnight everyone!” Todoroki bellowed to the crowd, causing them to cheer him and the band off the stage.

You stand there, high off of every guitar riff and belt from the performance feeling sad that the concert was over. But a rush of hope filled your heart in knowing that you were going to see Shoto again soon. You and Nejire walk out of the stadium hand in hand as you discussed the plan to get to the party.

“So the party is not too far from here, exactly 15 minutes away. We could totally call an uber.” Nejire explains, saying that it’s going to be held in Todoroki’s mansion.

When you both arrive at Todoroki’s Mansion your jaws drop. A huge fountain greeted your uber driver’s car, cobblestone driveways leading you towards his front door. There were hedge sculptures all over the front yard and expensive cars adorned the driveway as you and Nejire step out of the car to see the line to get into the party. Damn. More lines.

You approach the security guard; the same one from earlier that night with a nervous wave.

“U-Um excuse me sir, we’re on the list..” You said unconfidently. Nejire nervous laughed and nudged you for sounding so unsure after giving you a long confidence pep-talk in the car.

“Sorry, kiddo. I’m not seein’ an ‘Y/N’ or a ‘Nejire’. Back o’ the line, ladies.” The security guard huffed, hardly even looking at his list.

“Nah it’s cool, Ben. Let them in.” You hear a familiar voice utter before you get the chance to turn around and walk to the back of the line. Sure enough it was Todoroki standing there, joint lit and eyes hazy. Clearly stoned.

It was like he got more gorgeous as you got closer to him, your cheeks heating up as you realize you’re literally standing in front of your fucking celebrity crush. Nejire squeals and runs inside to go find the drummer and get his number, she says drummers do it harder.

Shoto took you by the hand and led you inside the rager in his foyer. The smell of beer and weed absorbs your nostrils as you walk inside with Shoto in hand, watching as Nejire talks up the drummer with ease as if she already knew him from way back when.

Todoroki sat down on the most comfortable couch you have ever sat in with you next to him, taking a big drag of his joint and motioning it towards you.

“Wanna hit? It’s not laced. Promise.” He said cooly, slowly blowing out the smoke. You take it and take a hit, coughing a little as you puff out the smoke.

Damn this must be what rich people smoke.

“Good huh? Grew it myself. Heh.” Todoroki laughed a little as he watched you take another hit.

“Shit. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, finally.” You say, nervousness coating your tongue. Shoto gave you a warm smile, his hazy eyes gleaming in the dim lights of the room.

“Gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl.” Shoto said, kissing the same hand he did at the concert.

You heat up, your panties becoming slightly wet at him touching and kissing you. He smirked and grabbed you by your chin to make sure you look him directly into his grey orbs.

“When I saw you in the crowd, I almost couldn’t keep my eyes off you.” He said into your ear, causing your mind to block out any outside sound that wasn’t his voice. You gulp, blinking dumbly as you try to find the words to say something.

“I-I, um. Th-thank you.” You say, looking down into his lap. Shoto pulled away to smoke his joint a little more. You two talked all night, everyone around you both becoming irrelevant as you seemingly grow closer together.

Strangely, none of the rumors about Todoroki were true. He wasn’t this stuck up asshole the media made him out to be. He was calm and gentle, the sweetest guy you’ve ever had the pleasure of having a conversation with. You learned so much about him that night. He was so misunderstood.

You’re high now and completely hazy as you and Todoroki make out on the couch. You’re not sure how you two even got to this point but you loved it. One thing led to another and now you were straddling him on the couch, his hands in your back pockets as he groped and squeezed your ass.

Your lips mingled as you moan into the kiss, Todoroki’s tongue slipping into your mouth to make home of it. The kiss got so hot your pussy was sopping wet underneath your jeans as you mindlessly grind against him for some kind friction.

Todoroki pulled away and started kissing your neck, damn near ripping your clothes off in front of the entire party. You’re gasping and grabbing at his clothes, forgetting where you are as you become desperate for him. You wanted him so bad and you knew he wanted you too.

“Wanna get out of here? Go upstairs I mean.” Shoto asked, huffing into the skin of your neck as his hard dick poked at your thigh.

“God yes.” You say breathily. As soon as he got your consent he carried you upstairs, the party raising their glasses and their blunts in celebration for Todoroki getting some.

“YES! Y/N tell me everything okay!?” Nejire yelled drunkenly, pulling away from her makeout session with the band’s drummer. You giggle and wave down at her, Todoroki laughing softly as he watched the interaction between you and your best friend.

“Just so you know, princess. I’m not going to go easy on you.” Shoto said, pinning you against the hallway wall.

“I don’t want you to.” You mewl, leaning into his neck to nip at it. Shoto let out a low chuckle and nearly kicked down his bedroom door, tossing you onto his luxurious california king bed.

You take a quick look around his darkly colored room, black walls with coordinating grey funiture. Posters of his inspiration adorned his walls, almost similar to your room just $100,000 richer. He had a mirror above his bed as you look up at your reflection you see Todoroki crawl on top of you, unbuttoning and pulling your jeans off in one fell swoop.

You’re immediately embarrassed, forgetting it was laundry day at home so you threw a thong on because you didn’t have anything else to wear. It was black and lacy and oh so skimpy you quickly move your hands to cover up in shame, Shoto grabbing your wrists and pinning your hands above your head.

“Heh. How’d you know I love lace?” Shoto teased, practically salivating at the sight of your smooth legs beneath him. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Shoto said, running his hands along your sides as if he was a lion playing with his prey before he ate it.

You bit your lip, dripping and hungry for some kind of touch in the places you needed him most, your nipples prodding at the thin fabric of your band tee. Yeah, you forgot to wear a bra. Shoto pulled your shirt above your head, tossing it somewhere and hissing at the sight of your bare breasts.

“No bra either? Man.. it must be my birthday. I’m gonna have fun with you, princess.” Todoroki says taking a nipple into his mouth, not breaking eye contact with you as he suckled gently following with short lick causing your entire body to catch flame.

You start moaning miserably, your whole body begging him to take you. Shoto pulls away from your nipple with a light pull of his lips and slips his hand down to your slit, caressing it agonizingly slow to tease you. He takes his other hand and presses his thumb to your lips.

“Open your mouth.” He rasped. And you did, sucking on his thumb as he rested it on your tongue making Shoto moan at the sight, humming a ‘good girl’ under his breath. Shoto held your mouth open and spit, pulling you into a sloppy kiss as he plunged his thick digits into your needy hole.

You arch your back off the bed, biting down onto Shoto’s lip as he finger fucked you without mercy. Your moans filled the air, Shoto watching you intently as he took your breast into his mouth once more.

“Sho- ah! I-I’m gonna-“ You bellow, trying to hold onto something for dear life as he brought you closer and closer to your peak.

“That’s daddy to you, princess. Try again and maybe I’ll let you cum around my fingers.” Shoto hissed, slowing his pumping fingers a bit to ensure you got the point.

He was in control. You pant, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath only for it to get caught in your throat again. Desperate moans fall out of your mouth as you beg him to let you cum.

“D-Daddy!~” You gasp, Shoto leaning into your neck, his ear right next your mouth as you scream for him. You collapse into his arms, fucked out and stupid off Todoroki’s strong fingers. All those years of guitar weren’t for nothing.

“That’s it baby.. fuck, you made a mess.” Shoto cooed, slowly dragging his fingers out of you as he watched your slick stick to him sloppily. At this point, he’s so hard you can clearly see the veins in his dick jumping out of his pants, his size making you wince in pain before he even entered you.

“Think you can take all of me, princess?” Shoto asked, throwing his contricting pants and boxers somewhere across the room, releasing his impressive size for you to see. You gulp but nod, licking your lips at the sight of him.

Shoto smirked at your reaction and pumped himself a few times before teasingly tapping the head of his dick against your clit, causing you to yelp from the sensitivity of your abused core.

“Pleaseee.” You whine, Shoto grabbing you by the neck and choking you almost to tell you to shut up and be patient. He wastes no time in plunging into you, the thickness of his dick stretching your walls with a delicious sting.

You claw at his back as he bottomed out, gasping sharply as he filled you completely.

“Am I hurting you?” Todoroki asked with what little sympathy he had left in his body. You shook your head no, moaning as he stayed still inside you.

“P-P-Please move..” you mewl, chewing your bottom lip. Shoto smirked and began rutting his hips into yours at a rough pace, not really caring if you adjusted to him or not. Hard slaps and the sound of your whiny moans filled the room as the headboard of his bed slammed against the wall, probably alerting the entire party downstairs.

You’re screaming now, a moaning mess beneath him as he split you wide open. As your eyes rolled to the back of your head, Shoto throws your legs over his shoulder and starts pounding into you.

He’s going to make sure you’re unable to walk straight for the rest of the week, marking you as his.

“Fuckkk, daddy. S-Slow down.” You pleaded only for Shoto to ignore you and continue his pace, laughing at the shocked and fucked out face you were pulling.

“Told you I wasn’t taking it easy on you. Did you forget already, princess?” Shoto breathed, moving his hands to rub shallow circles into your clit.

Your toes curled up tightly as your orgasm ripped through your body, your moans reaching a cresendo as your scream Shoto’s name.

He hissed as your walls fluttered around him, your pussy gripping him tightly as he fucked into you continuosly.

“I hope you didn’t think I was through with you just because I made you cum. I’m not done yet, doll.” Shoto muttered through your pathetic whines for him to slow down.

He cooed praises at you, a “good girl” here and a “you take my dick so well” there until his thrusts got rusty and sloppy; a sign he was close to cumming.

“Shittt, where do you want me to-“

“I-Inside m-mee! Fuck, cum inside me!” You shriek. And so he did, fucking his hot stickiness into you for a while as you both moan and pant. Shoto rode out your climaxes for a while before slowly pulling himself out as he watched his cum ooze out of your abused pussy.

As Shoto flopped on the bed next to you, you both stare up at the mirror on his ceiling. You’re both sweaty and your hair was a fucking mess from being tossed around the bed for what seemed like hours.

“Shit. Probably late as fuck by now. You wanna stay the night?” Shoto asked, taking your hand and famously kissing it once more. You smile and nod, unable to form coherent sentences as you feel yourself doze off.

Todoroki jumps from his bed and opened the door, screaming from the top of the stairs, “Oi! All you motherfuckers can fuck off home!Party’s over!” You laugh and throw a pillow at him.

“Don’t be so mean, Sho. Uh.. C-Can I call you Sho?” You ask embarrassed.

“You keep fucking me like that you can call me whatever you want, angel.” Shoto groans, grabbing you by your face and kissing you sweetly.

“Honestly, I wanna go again. You down?”

[fluffonthebunniestail]

Slip up

Hello lovely people, sorry it's been a while! Also, I've been meaning to change the format to keep reading. Apparently, with what I'm using I cannot do that, but it shall change in due time! Yes, this is another Bakugō fic, I cannot get over myself.

Pairing: Lee!Bakugou/Ler!Kirishima

Summary: Bakugou decided to change up his wardrobe slightly, and that means tighter shirts. With that, Kirishima took it personally.

Warnings: swearing, tickle fic

------

Bakugou was really testing his patients.

And he means really testing it.

For the reason Kirishima has no knowledge of, Katsuki had changed his style in shirts: tight and easily riding up.

This shirts weren't a constant; they would come and go, a switch between those and his usual tank tops.

And in all honesty, Kirishima was a bit distracted. He can't blame himself! Even just opening a cabinet and bam: abs on display. Kirishima then took it as a challenge. For what, he had no idea. It didn't matter.

It was perfect when he and Katsuki was alone due to the classmates going out, and the rest going home.

He looked up from where he was sitting (he was watching something on his phone; half of the time looking at other stuff), and he saw Bakugou walking to the kitchen, getting the pitcher of water from the refrigerator.

Kirishima felt his face heat up at the shirt he was wearing. It was a long-sleeved, tightly fitted black shirt. The hem of it ended just above his navel, and it accentuated the hell out of his figure. Kirishima thought it'd be unmanly to continue to stare any longer without at least striking up a conversation. He got up and walked to the counter Bakugou leaned on pouring water into a cup.

"Hey." He said, a little bit awkwardly to his taste.

"Hey." He responded softly without looking up. Katsuki was a lot more quiet and calmer when it was just the two of them. Yet strangely enough, he was more talkative. Those talks were more personal, and Kirishima loved every single on of them.

"You sleep well?"

"Yeah." He finally looked over, giving him a lopsided smile. Kirishima felt his stomach doing summersaults at the gesture. They began to talk, just talk about whatever came up in their heads. Little annoyances, stresses, and even random stuff on the internet.

Eventually, they began to walk slowly back to the living room. Kirishima didn't know what possessed him to be so bold, but he slipped an arm around Bakugou's shoulder. Surprisingly enough, the blonde didn't shove him off.

Bakugou was taken aback once the hand around his shoulder pulled him down to the carpeted floor, Kirishima following.

"Hey! The fuck are you doing?" The blonde exclaimed as Kirishima straddled him pulling his arms in his. Bakugou sputtered at the movement, and unable to keep the rising heat in his face at bay.

"Sorry but you're really asking for this." He chuckled in response, holding the blonde's hands to his chest.

"For what?" Bakugou asked, voice nearly above a whisper, and eyes transfixed on the other. The tone of voice shocked Kirishima.

"You know."

"What are you doing?" Bakugou whispered, ends of his lips turning into a smile.

"Well," he laughed breathlessly, securing the blonde's hands, pining with the left -hardened- hand, on his own chest, "I wanted to know this for a while now." He got closer to Bakugou's face, seeing his cheeks reddening, and his heart racing beneath the hands placed.

"And what's that?" Katsuki felt himself get a bit giddy, he wasn't the only one.

"Are you ticklish?" Kirishima saw confusion quickly cross over his face.

"Wait wha- BWAHAHAHA!" Bakugou exploded with laughter. Unable to react properly, the immediate and unexpected sensations drilling at his ribs drove him up the wall. He leaned to the left, where his ribs were being attacked, kicking blindly behind the redhead on top. "WHAHA-WHAT ARE YOU DOHOAHAHA!!"

"Damn dude, I wasn't expecting you to be this ticklish." Kirishima chuckled fondly, switching his hand to the right side of the hysterical boy's ribs.

Although there was extreme satisfaction with finding out Bakugou was ticklish, he was more focused on his face. Bakugou had his head back, lost in the overwhelming feeling. His eyes were screwed shut, his nose was scrunched adorably, and his mouth was wide with laughter pouring out. It was such a pure and sweet smile you wouldn't expect from him.

"Kirishihimahahaha...." He giggled as Ejiro poked and lightly scratched at his ribs. His body rolling side to side, at a halfhearted attempt to shake him off. He noticed that Bakugou could have shoved him off at any moment now, but he didn't.

"Yes?"

"Mhmhmpfft- hahaha!" He giggled heavily as Kirishima scratched his nails at the blonde's bare sides. He did a funny dance, wiggling like a worm. "You ahahass!!"

"You're not stopping me." Kirishima pointed out, watching his face get unbelievably more red. He used his index finger nail to slowly scratch up and down the side of Bakugou's stomach. The blonde underneath buck hard and shriek; a wave of light laughter following. "Pretty bad here, huh?" He teased.

"Shuhut- AAHAAGH NOHOHOHO!" The blonde practically screaming with uncontrollable laughter; Kirishima generally drilling his thumb at the side of his stomach. He began to squirm heavily; bucking and screaming. "NOT THEHAHAHAHA!! YOU BAHAHASTAHAHAHAH!" He also started to tug a bit at his trapped hands.

"Alright, I'll be nice." Kirishima chuckled. He stopped, placing his palm on top of the shaking abdomen, nearly bursting out in laughter at the fact it caused Bakugou to giggle. Giggle! He never thought Bakugou was capable of such a cute giggle. "Okay," he cleared his throat, "it's kinda obvious you don't want me to stop. Which is cute, really, but I want the clear to continue."

Below him, Bakugou was catching up with his breath, the red remaining on his cheeks.

"Want me to continue?" Kirishima asked calmy, he got a bashful mumble I'm response. "I need a clear answer."

"Do whatever." He grumbled, looking to the side.

"You sure?" He clarified, he got a light nod. Kirishima just smiled warmly, "on it!" His hand twitched, causing the blond to jump.

He then scratched at the abdomen below in a featherlight manner. He was instantly rewarded with high-pitched giggles and squirming. He scribbled at random places on his stomach; the sides of it, the upper and lower part of his belly, and the center of his stomach that gave him the strongest reaction.

He then began to claw at the center of his belly, dragging out a surprised snort.

"Oh my god, that was so fucking cute." Kirishima laughed, watching the blonde attempt to hide his face in the side of his shoulder, giggling.

"Wahahahihihit- nahahaHAHAHAHA YOU FAHAHAHAK!" He exclaimed when Kirishima began to put pressure on his taut stomach, he squealed then laughed the loudest Kirishima has ever heard. He wiggled his torso, the sensations spreading across his belly making his laughter go at a higher pitch.

"SHITSHITSHIT- AHAHAHAH YOUHUHU ASSHOHOHOHOLE!"

Kirishima could help himself but laugh along with the contagious laughter, especially feeling knees on his back; Bakugou trying to curl into himself. He shook his head back and forth, completely lost in laughter. Kirishima switched it up, going back to light tickling. He stroked one finger at the center of the boy's stomach, making him let out the cutest strangled squeal.

It suddenly stopped, some residential giggles slipping out. He hesitantly looked up at Kirishima who had a mischievous glint to his eyes.

"One more thing I wanna try." He said looking at an expectant and giddy Bakugou, who looked ready to burst into laughter at any second.

He lowered his hand down, spidering above the spiked-blonde's stomach. Much to his amusement, he sucked in his stomach and began to giggle softly.

"I'm not even touching you!" He giggled teasingly, making a mental note to how his tease made him giggle harder. He kept tickling the air above the shaking belly below, the string of giggles never ending.

"Stohohop teahahasing me you fuhuhuhuck!"

"Alright."

Nothing prepared Bakugou for Kirishima to sneak a finger in his navel.

"AAAAAGHAAHA!" He thrashed so harshly, he nearly threw Kirishima off him. The boy in hysterics arched his back; it only succeeded with making it easier for Kirishima to wiggle his finger in the extremely ticklish spot a little more. He reacted harshly.

He was screaming more than laughing; his head thrown back, unable to cope with the harsh tingling feeling that tickled him so intensely inside out. It tickled so, so bad. "I CAHAHAAN'T I CAHAHAHAHAHA!!"

His mind melted, in a daze as he couldn't focused on anything besides him reeling over how much it tickled. He went limp, and allowing himself to just laugh and laugh and laugh.

"This is your tickle spot, isn't it? Holy shit man, you have to be one of the most ticklish person I've ever met." He gave him a break once his laughter quickly got silent. He just tapped around the edges of his belly button, it was still enough for him to laugh. "Wow, you're, like, super ticklish."

"Hehehe! Shut uhuhuhup!!" He let out a near ear-piercing screech when Kirishima tapped at his navel. "Pleahahahahase nohoho!" He was squealing as Kirishima continued, "I'm toouhuahahaha- I'm too ticklihihihish thereahahahaha!!"

"At least you admitted it." He chuckled, letting up. He let go of Bakugou's hands, letting him catch his breath, little titters and giggles slipping out here and there. "That was the cutest shit I've ever seen."

"Ahaha... Gohohod... The hell was that?"

"What?"

"You getting up in my face like that." Bakugou almost mumbled.

"I think you're cute." That statement made Bakugou look up at him shocked, yet skeptical.

"Yeah fucking right."

"It's true!" He added by pinching up and down Bakugou's sides, making him jump and laugh harshly. He grabbed at his wrist.

"Kirihihihi!" He wined. He hiccuped, staring at the redhead incredulously.

"I like you." He blurred out. "Like a lot."

"I guess that's one way to tell me." He laughed breathlessly, panting from his earlier laugh-fest.

"Shit I-", he stopped himself, wiping his hands across his face, "I shouldn't have- I shouldn't have done that I'm so sorry. I-I don't know what got over me, and-"

He was interrupted by Bakugou pulling him down for a kiss.

"I wouldn't have let you do shit if I didn't like you dumbass."

"Oh..." He smiled.

It was a good fucking day.

[expectingtofly]

Claire Novak's (Surprisingly) Not-So-Lame Day

2k

this fic is written for @dean-has-great-taste as part of @starrynightdeancas' gift exchange. thanks sophie for organizing this, it was a lot of fun <33 and i hope you enjoy this, gen!!

*****

How did Claire find herself joining Dean, Cas, and Jack for an excursion to the mall?

Well.

Cas had texted her yesterday, with an extreme amount of emojis and emoticons that took some time to decipher, asking if she wanted to go shopping with him, Dean, and Jack. Apparently Jack needed new clothes and they needed a gift for Eileen’s birthday coming up, and maybe they could go bowling or something afterwards.

And normally she would’ve said no way because hanging out with old guys was lame and she didn’t like little kids, but she needed an excuse to get out of Jody and Donna’s weekend plans of cleaning out the garage. Plus, Kaia needed to study for a test—she actually enjoyed school, the weirdo—and had requested no distractions.

So that’s how she found herself sitting in the back of the Impala next to a carseat, listening to one of Dean’s old cassette tapes (which wasn’t too bad, but she’d never admit it).

“What’s that?” Jack asked, stretching against his carseat straps to jab at one of the pins Claire wore on her leather jacket.

“It’s the lesbian flag,” she told him. Cas looked back at them from the front seat, smiling.

“This one?” Jack pointed to the rainbow pin on her pocket.

“It’s the pride flag.”

Jack considered that for a moment before announcing, “I want one. And this one.” He pointed to the mothman pin on her lapel, then the big-eyed, green alien. “And this one... and this one, and this one.” (Alex said she had more pins than leather on her jacket, but sue her, she liked making her clothing her own).

Jack, it seemed, also liked… unique clothing. The kid was wearing rain boots even though the sun was out and overalls with embroidered flowers. He dressed weird, there was no way around it. But so did Cas, so there was probably no hope for him, poor kid.

“Okay,” she decided. “I know where to get you some.”

Jack beamed and swung his legs. “Don’t kick the seat,” Dean told him, and Jack pouted at him.

Claire was surprised Dean even let a carseat in his precious Impala. Pulling out her phone, she asked, “Can we listen to my music?”

Dean started to respond with a “Hell no,” but Cas spoke up first, “Of course.”

Dean spluttered as Claire connected to the bluetooth connector Sam had finally convinced Dean to install. The old man didn’t realize it was the 21st century, apparently.

“I wanna listen to Gaga!” Jack said, leaning over to look at her phone.

At first she thought that was some baby talk, then she realized Jack was into pop music. Ugh. But it would annoy Dean, so...

Leaning in conspiratorially with Jack, she let him scroll through her phone and choose which song to play. When “Born This Way” started filtering through the car, Dean groaned.

“Really?” he asked, sending her a glare in the rearview mirror. Mission accomplished.

Jack clapped along and Cas turned the music up louder. “Great choice, Jack,” he said.

Dean, for all his grumbling, didn’t turn down the music, and Claire caught him glancing at Cas, who tapped his fingers on his thigh to the beat. Dean looked like he was fighting back a smile and Claire rolled her eyes. Dude was so whipped.

When they parked at the mall, Cas grabbed Jack’s hand before he could sprint across the parking lot. “You have to look both ways,” he reminded him gently, and Jack nodded.

“Claire’s gonna buy me pins,” he said, jumping onto the curb.

“Yup.” Claire pat her jacket pocket. “Good ol’ credit card fraud.”

“Woah, now,” Dean started to protest.

“You and Sam are the ones who taught me!” Claire reminded him.

“We’ll pay for them,” Cas said, opening the door to the mall. Jack skipped inside, his rain boots squeaking on the tiled floor.

“We’re doing what now?” Dean asked Cas, taking his hand. Gross.

“Come on, Jack,” Claire said, catching up to the toddler. “Let’s go get you some style.” Over her shoulder, she called, “Meet up with you guys later.”

“Have fun!” Cas called.

“Don’t get kidnapped,” Dean added.

As they distanced themselves from the old geezers, Jack grabbed her hand, and Claire startled a little. “Do you like dinosaurs?” he asked.

Someone passing by gave them a smile, and Claire realized people probably thought Jack was her younger brother. She let him hold her hand anyway. “Sure.”

“What’s your favorite? Mine is the bon-ta-sore-us.” He sounded out the word carefully.

“Don’t know. What’s the one with the spiky horns?”

“Ti-ce-a-tops?”

“Yeah, that sounds cool.”

“That’s my second favorite!” He started jumping from one colored tile to the next. “And the T-Rex. That’s Dee’s favorite. And Dad likes the steg-a-sore-us.” He peered up at her. “Did you know he got to see dinosaurs? Right in front of him!”

“You know what that means, right?” He shook his head. “He’s super old. He’s basically a dinosaur himself.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “He’s a dinosaur,” he repeated in a hushed whisper.

“Yup.” Spotting Hot Topical, she headed that way. “You should tell him that.”

Inside the store, Jack let go of her hand to grab a stuffed cat. “Claire! Like yours!”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Yeah.” So, she still had the Grumpy Cat Cas had bought her. She wasn’t cruel enough to throw it away when the guy was trying so hard to make up for walking around in her dead dad’s body. Plus, the stuffed animal was kinda cute. Not that she was going to tell anyone that.

“Here ya go,” she told Jack, finding a box of pins at the register. She brought the box down to his level and Jack ran over to look inside.

“I want a Doc McStuffins pin,” he said, plunging his hand into the box.

“I don’t know if they have those.”

As they rooted through the box of pins, she heard familiar voices and looked up to see Dean and Cas walking inside.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asked.

“I like this store,” Cas said and Dean rolled his eyes. Among the pleather and black, Cas’ dingy old trench coat—over a Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt instead of a suit—and Dean’s ratty flannel and boots only looked more ridiculous. She took it back—even Jack dressed better than them.

“You guys don’t have to be in here,” she told them.

“What, we’re too old?” Dean asked defensively.

“Yeah, actually.”

Cas poked at a toy and it squeaked. God, could they be any more embarrassing?

“Dad!” Jack called, holding out a rainbow pin. “Look, they have soo many.” Cas joined Jack in going through the pins and Claire asked Dean, giving his outfit a meaningful look,

“Was the Army Surplus store too trendy for you?”

“Did they kick you out of Sephora for buying up all the eyeliner?“ Dean shot back.

Touché. In a truce, she held out a pin with the bisexual flag. She wasn’t really sure what Dean identified as, if he even gave it any thought, but guessed it was close enough. “For you.”

Dean rolled his eyes but took it. “I’m not weighing down my jacket with this crap, though.”

“No, ‘course not, that would mean having any sort of style.”

“Can I help you with anything?” asked an employee with two nose rings and jewelry up and down their ears— so cool. Claire saw the way their eyes flicked between them, probably thinking they made a weird group, and she took a step back, trying to silently communicate that yes, she was shopping with them, but no, she was not as lame as them.

“Just looking,” Dean told them.

“I like your drawings,” Jack said and the employee looked down at their arms which were littered with tattoos.

“Thanks.”

“My dad has a drawing. It’s Enochian.”

The employee—Wren, by the name tag—looked at Cas with new respect in their eyes. “Language of the angels. Sick.”

Cas looked pleased. “Thank you. It’s come in handy more than once.”

The employee went back to looking confused and, starting to walk away, told them to call if they needed anything.

“Do you want anything?” Cas asked Claire, and Claire looked through the box. She grabbed a pentagram pin and, seeming to copy her, Jack grabbed another one, clutching several pins already in his fists.

“You like bees, right?” Claire asked Cas, spotting a “Save the Bees” pin. She held it up for him.

Cas’ eyes brightened. “That’s a wonderful message.” He glanced back at Dean and frowned. “Dean, they’re not going to bite.”

Claire looked over to see Dean shying away from a few emo teens. “Look like it,” Dean muttered, joining them. Jack lifted up his hands, asking to be hoisted up. Dean set him on his hip and Jack showed him the pins he’d selected. He held a dinosaur pin to Dean’s collar.

“Do you want one, Dee?”

“He’s too lame,” Claire piped up. Not for the first time, she noticed the healed over piercing mark on Dean’s right ear and pointed to it. “Looks like he used to be cool, though.”

“Yeah, guess so,” Dean said dryly. His hand went to his earlobe. “Pierced it myself, in high school.”

“I think you’re still cool,” Cas told him, and Claire fake-gagged, making Jack giggle.

Cas took the pins to the cash register where Wren rang them up. Dean added the bisexual flag pin and Claire threw in a pair of spiky earrings, because, hey, they were paying.

“15.36,” Wren told them, dropping the pins into a bag.

“My dad’s a dinosaur,” Jack told them, trying to see over the edge of the counter. Wren raised an eyebrow, Cas looked surprised, and Claire stifled a laugh.

“Claire, help me,” Jack said, grabbing the bag from Cas as they exited the store. Moving to the side, Claire helped him attach the pins to his overalls. A smiley face, a pride flag, a grinning Stitch, a sunflower, a dinosaur, and the pentagram. The pins clacked as Jack tugged at his overalls, trying to look at them all. Overall, a chaotic look, but it kinda matched his vibe.

“Lookin’ good,” she told him, and Jack beamed.

“I’m like you!”

Alright, she wouldn’t take it that far, but, “Yeah, close enough.”

Cas attached the “Save the Bees” pins to his trench coat pocket and it ended up crooked. Rolling her eyes, Claire said, “Let me.”

She reattached the pin and stepping back to look it over, decided, “You could actually make that coat look cool if you added more stuff to it.”

Cas looked down at himself. “Thank you.”

“Nothing’s gonna save that sweatshirt, though.” Couldn’t let his ego get too big.

“Dean said he liked it,” Cas said, glancing back at Dean, who was shooting an evil eye at Claire. He quickly wiped it off his face and draped an arm over Cas’ shoulders.

“Yeah, it’s uh… Charming.” He guided Cas away from Claire. “Don’t listen to her, she still thinks sarcasm is a personality trait.”

“Screw you, old man,” she called. Jack skipped after them and she checked her phone to see Kaia had texted her: How’s everything going? They drive you crazy yet?

They’re so weird, she texted back. Then she added, They’re not too bad.

“Come on, Jack,” she said, hurrying to catch up with him, Dean, and Cas. “Let’s go get our ears pierced.”

“Yay!” Jack cheered. He grabbed her hand and tugged her down the mall.

“Woah, woah, you’re not doing that,” Dean protested like the wet blanket he was.

“You can get yours pierced too,” Claire told him, and he faltered,

“I don’t want, we’re not—“

“You know you want to.” She let Jack lead her away and Dean called after them,

“We're never bringing you shopping again!”

Grinning, she turned to shout over her shoulder, “You know you love me!”

[heartofspells]

prompt? prompt.

Person A orders a uber to be dropped off at a bridge, person B drives the uber and refuses to stop anywhere close to said bridge.

*leaves while whispering apologies (but not really)*

Prompt! (but how dare?)

Okay, my darling dear. This is getting, er...long, especially for tumblr. So, here's how this is going to work. I'm giving you a piece now, for appeasement purposes (and other gushings of gratefulness - you know what they're for) and then the rest will come when it's properly finished (possibly in multiple parts?).

BUT! Enjoy this piece of your other thing. You know, with the thing, and that other thing. All the things, or so we've said. And the too-long trousers made for tripping.

Cw: mental illness, depression, thoughts of suicide (sorry; this is becoming a thing for me now, but whyy?)

----

He paces. He can't stop. His head is so loud, screams echoing, rattling through him, the reverberations leaving shockwaves in their wake, spikes that dig in deeply, pierce him through to gristle and bone. He shakes it, grips hands and fingers into his hair, pulls furiously, desperately, trying to dislodge it, but nothing leaves him, only becoming louder.

It's always so loud.

He gasps in a ragged, tortured breath. He can't do this anymore. It's all too much. Nothing ever works out right. Everyone leaves, never cares enough to stay. He's lost everything that's ever mattered and now nothing matters at all.

He slowly manages to calm himself, just a little, just enough for that mask to settle back in place, the one that keeps the outside world from seeing his torn and fraying edges. Then he grabs his phone up, hires a ride, sets his destination, and steps out onto the street to wait.

Remus is certain he looks like any other mostly normal person when the car pulls up in front of him. The windows are just as black as the paint, and he can't see inside them, but it matches the description on his phone, and he wouldn't have cared if it hadn't. He climbs into the back quickly, mumbles something when the man driving greets him and asks some sort of question. Remus doesn't care about this either.

He scrubs his hands over his face, barely feeling the eyes on him. They're back again, the screams, growing louder. They're trying to drown out the music that's started playing, shouting at a deafening volume. Remus groans quietly, bending forward a bit, inhaling a deep breath, and they retreat just a little, the lyrics fading through his ears instead.

My demons trapped inside my mind Growing wild in their demise Always dancing with the end Like a long-lost friend

Holding my breath 'til my lungs burn bright Finding myself in the light Feeling comfort in the pain Like I'm alive again

Just another storm Just another flame That will be the day

Like, oh-oh 'Cause all I wanna hear is Let me go Meet me on the other side

It starts to rain as the car swings its way around a corner, the soft golden glow of the fading day disappearing with the thick clouds. Remus feels like he can't breathe, but he manages somehow, lungs expanding, a robotic action, motion shocking, sending him back into the seat rest, leather slipping and sticking over his bare arms. He'd forgotten his coat. Fuck.

But why does it matter? It doesn't.

He stares at the window, trailing the drops as they trickle and create pathways over the tinted glass. The car smells like spice, something sharp but sweet. Remus vaguely wonders what it is, thinking it's almost soothing, just not enough. He closes his eyes, blocks everything out. He only needs to get there, then everything will be fine. He'll be able to breathe again. Or not breathe. But that won't matter either.

Words filter back to him over the music, but he ignores it for a long time until they become too insistent. Remus' eyes crack back open, glancing up, seeing a grey gaze fixed on him through the mirror.

"Oi, mate," says the driver. "Are you paying attention now?" Remus nods mutely. "Brilliant. Did you put the address in right? I'm not even sure how you got this location on here. It's not even a true address, is it?"

Remus sighs, looking back out of the window. "It's correct," he mutters.

"Can't be," mumbles the other man, mostly to himself. "Did you trick it or something? It's just a bridge. What's there that's worth going for?"