#finally I finished this old damn sketch thank god | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

extravaguk · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts #bts fic #bts smut #jungkook fic

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gashinabts · 4 years ago

Text

philophobia|(m)

Words: 7.4k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mature

Summary: Taehyung, a man, who swears he’ll never fall in love meets Y/N a hopeless romantic.

Warnings: Teasing, spitting, oral (f/receiving), fingering, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing ( lmao idk if thats a thing?), squirting, sexual intercourse, mention of homophobia. Topics of child neglecting, if this makes you uncomfortable pls don’t read :) minor character death

A/N: Taehyung is a bisexual king! Tell me what you peeps think, remember that comments motivate me to continue writing!!! This is my work, no reposting this and my other works on any other platforms.

Kim Taehyung was born December 30, 1995 his father left him when he was 11 years old that is when Taehyung realized that love never lasts. His mother pretended that his father never existed, she quickly hid the family photos away, along with covering his tomato garden with dirt. Taehyung wanted to ask where he went but stopped wondering when he heard a few of his classmates whispering that Taehyung’s dad left them for a young woman in her twenties.

As Taehyung grew into his teenage years he would often get asked out by his classmates, he wouldn’t decline, accepting the dates to see if he can ever fall foolishly in love like his Mom once did. However, nothing ever happened, he would kiss them goodnight but won’t call them the next day. In high school he lost his virginity at a party, he wasn’t nervous, just did things he’s seen in filthy pornorgraphy. The very next day the girl spread the rumor that Taehyung was a sex god, that he probably had sex everyday with a different people. Was that a compliment? He remembered thinking to himself as he sat in the back of the classroom, feeling people secretly stare at him.

That day he met Jimin. Jimin was a popular boy that everyone swoon over. Of course he had a girlfriend, they have been dating since middle school. The guys would gawk at her when she would wear a sports bra to track practice. Taehyung was in art class sketching an apple, Jimin came over and talked to him as if they were friends. It was nice, Taehyung listened to Jimin complain about his art. When class was over, Jimin asked Taehyung to hang out with him after school. When Taehyung sat on Jimin’s bed, he looked over on the desk and saw a picture of Jimin and his girlfriend. Right next to it was a picture of what he assumed was Jimin’s family. A Mom, Dad, an older brother, and Jimin. He turned his gaze back to Jimin...who was undressing in front of him. Jimin’s underwear was the only thing on, Taehyung didn’t expect him to have lean muscles and define abs. An hour later they were both breathless, exhausted from the sex.

“ I’m not gay.” Jimin tells Taehyung as he cleans himself with a rag.

“ Okay.” Taehyung shrugs and pulls his pants up. He’s watched gay porn and straight porn before and got turned on by both of them, so it doesn’t come to much of a surprise that he enjoyed the sex with Jimin.

*******

Taehyung watches from afar when Jimin kisses his girlfriend in the school halls, wondering if that’s love. The next few months, Taehyung and Jimin fool around more. Jimin would call Taehyung over, then they would fuck and they would both be on their way. There were never conversations or pillow talks, until right now.

“ I’m gay.” Jimin confesses to Taehyung.

“Cool.” Taehyung shrugs, looking for his shoes.

“ That’s all your gonna say?” Jimin rolls his eyes grabbing his t-shirt wiping the come on his stomach.

“ I’m bisexual, happy?” Taehyung looks at his phone and notices a missed call from his mother. He tucks his phone away, “ Why are you still with her? Your girlfriend.” He finally asks the question he’s been meaning to ask since the beginning.

“ I love her and I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t love her like that.” Jimin looks at the picture of them and flips it down, almost ashamed of how much of a coward he is. “ Plus my Dad would kill me if I told him I like men.” He throws his head back looking at the ceiling not wanting to cry his eyes out.

Taehyung thinks love is complicated, he thinks people who are in love are selfish. They rather hurt themselves for the sake of love. It’s stupid he wants to tell Jimin that but he keeps quiet until Jimin looks at him with tears eyes. “ I don’t know what to say…”

“It’s fine...you don’t have to say anything just keep me company, yeah?”

“ Okay,” Taehyung sits back on the bed watching but not really watching tv with Jimin.

---

Taehyung’s mom was proud of him when he got accepted to a good college, she would brag to her friends and show pictures of his acceptance letters. Along with bragging how she raised Taehyung all by herself. Taehyung didn’t mind that he was in the spotlight, whatever made his mom happy he would comply with whatever she does. He was good with numbers so he was going to major in data analysis, he really wanted to major in art but his mom laughed in his face, telling him to be realistic.

Taehyung is now in his third year of college, wanting to just graduate already, done with the shitload of classwork and long ass lectures. Just right now he just finished his homework that took him three hours. He’s about to call it a night until Jungkook barges in his room, yelling at him to get dressed for a party. Taehyung switches his dirty hoodie with a clean hoodie, opting out grey sweatpants with jeans. He keeps his glasses on, due to his eyes being tired and not wanting to irritate them with contacts.

Jungkook hands Taehyung a drink, there’s obscene music, blunts being handed around, and people grinding on each other. “ When’s the last time you got laid?” Jungkook asked, as he took a gulp of his beer.

“ Last week...I think.” Taehyung searches through his mental sex list, but can’t seem to remember the girls face or name. He looks around and watches a couple argue with each other. The man rolls his eyes as the woman tries not to cry, the woman ends up leaving him and going upstairs.

“ Damn, lucky. I tried to hook up with this girl and she ended up leaving me hanging. Claimed that she’s not over her boyfriend, started crying on me when I was going down on her.” Jungkook cringes, sipping more alcohol. “ Be my wingman, yeah?”

“ Sure,” Taehyung nods. Jungkook is talking to this pretty girl, and she laughs at every joke that Jungkook makes. Taehyung wasn’t even sure why he asked him to his wingman when Jungkook can easily get a girl to bed. Jungkook nods absentmindedly when Taehyung excuses himself, he wanders around the frat house looking at people getting wasted. Once he gets tired of it he goes upstairs, hoping to find solace in an empty room. He opens a bedroom door, and notices a girl with a pencil and notebook. “ My bad-,” Taehyung is about to close the door.

You look up from your sketchpad, you see a tall man with messy curls and glasses. “ You can stay,” you observe him, he looks like he was forced to come here. There’s no red solo cup in his hand, he looks like he hasn’t a good night's rest. Also why else would he look mindlessly into rooms, the bathroom doors have a handwritten sign stating ‘BATHROOM’, so he must be bored or something searching into bedrooms. “ Or don’t. I don’t care.” You watch him close the door, entering the room.

“ Is this your room?” Taehyung looks around the room, noticing posters of naked women and marvel posters. Weird combination he notes. Along with the dirty clothes scattered all over the floor.

“ No,” you laugh. Shutting your notebook close, taking notice of his nice hands brushing his hair back. “ My friend’s room. I didn’t really feel like partying just decided to sketch,” you lift your pad up. He nods and sits on the bed.

“ Can I draw?” Taehyung points towards the sketchpad. He hasn’t drawn in months too busy in his schoolwork, his fingers would sometimes draw on foggy windows but nothing more. You nod tearing a piece of paper out and handing him a pencil, he thanks you.

You were sneakily glancing at him, sketching him, his angular jaw, messing hair, uneven eyelid, long eyelashes. Getting lost at his elegant features, wondering if he knows how beautiful he looks. You shake your head for easily fawning over this man. His hands are even beautiful, they travel across the paper gracefully with each stroke. You turn your eyes away when he makes eye contact with you, cheeks getting warm. “ What’s your name?” You ask while shading the contours of his cheeks.

“ Taehyung.” He folded his paper into a small square, putting it into his pocket. “ Yours?”

“ Y/N,” you smile.

---

“ Did you get laid yesterday night?” Jungkook is shirtless with scratch marks behind his back, there’s a couple of hickies on his neck.

Taehyung takes a sip of his tea before answering, “No, just talking to some girl. Her name is Y/N.”

“ Y/N. She’s a nice girl. One time I forgot a scantron for class and she gave me one. She’s also friends with Namjoon.” Jungkook pours himself coffee sitting next to Taehyung. “ Are you interested in her?”

Taehyung would be lying if said he wasn’t interested in you. When he entered the room he thought you were pretty and had a kind smile. “ Maybe...why?”

“ It’s best if you don’t try to get at her. Y/N looks the type to fall in love easily.” Jungkook sighs cracking his back on the back of the chair, groaning at his achy body. Taehyung wonders how can someone fall in love easily, he’s not one to believe in love at first sight or any kind of stuff in that realm. “ Alright, I’m gonna take a quick shower and then we can leave.”

Taehyung and Jungkook are at the library studying or trying to study, Jungkook is texting someone the whole time instead of studying for his macroeconimics test. While Taehyung is playing video games on his phone. “ Hey guys! Didn’t know you actually study Jungkook,” Namjoon jokes, ruffling Jungkook’s hair. Jungkook rolls his eyes pushing his hand off his head mumbling curse words at him. Taehyung looks to the side of Namjoon and notices you laughing as the scene unfolds. You’re carrying ice americanos and Jungkook immediately takes it out of the carrier, thanking you.

You look at Taehyung placing one in front of him, “ I didn’t know what kind of coffee you liked.” Taehyung is wearing similar clothing to what he wore at the party, mostly muted green colors and his circle glasses, his hair is pushed back with a headband. He looks surprised to see you, but nevertheless thanks you for the coffee. The conversations between Jungkook and Namjoon get more serious when they finally decide to study for their materials. You try to study but you want to talk to Taehyung wanting to get to know him more, you nudge your foot against his leg. He looks up, looking at you in question, you nod your head towards the exit entrance, he nods slowly unsure to what you're up to but following your lead. Jungkook and Namjoon are too invested in their studying to see you and Taehyung leave. “ Do you wanna go to my apartment?”

“ Sure,” Taehyung shrugs. The apartment was small and kind of messy, you try to hurry up and toss some of the paintbrushes in the sink. There’s water cups filled with murky colors, and paint marks on the tables, he’s not used to a sight like this. In his apartment it is always clean and tidy, not a dirty plate in sight. “ You live by yourself?” he asked, placing his stuff on the table.

“ Yeah, my roommate moved four months ago with her boyfriend.” You give up cleaning the mess since there’s too much to clean. “ Want some-” You are interrupted when you feel Taehyung’s lips on your, your hands push his chest flustered at the sudden kiss.

“ I-I- sorry...I must have read something wrong,” he looks embarrassed immediately backing up giving you space. “ I thought you invited me to your apartment for sex.” Taehyung notices how your eyes widen, fuck he feels like an ass, scared that he made you uncomfortable. “ I should go…” he goes to pick up his bags ready to bolt out.

“ I just wanted to talk...to get to know you better,” you speak before his hands grab the doorknob. “ We can paint and talk, if that's okay with you?”

“ Are you sure? You don’t want me to leave?”

“ Stay.” You go to the sink to wash your dirty brushes.

Taehyung sits down looking at the wall, notices a canvas of a man, he has plump lips, gentle eyes, overall he is beautiful, something that seemed out of this world. Maybe it was the way it was painted that made it appear like that. “ You painted that?” Taehyung speaks shifting his gaze to you.

You look at where Taehyung was pointing at, it was the painting of your ex boyfriend, “ Yeah, that’s my ex boyfriend, Seokjin. The professor told us to paint the definition of love…,” you stare at Seokjin’s face, remembering the memories you shared. The brushes are all cleaned and you set them down, grabbing some water colors that are in the cabinet.

“ Do you still love him?” Taehyung curiously asked, watching carefully at your reaction.

There’s a slight pain of thinking about him, truly not over his death. “ Yeah I’ll always have love for him…”

Taehyung wants to ask more about him but doesn’t want to intrude, he doesn’t say anything else but paints. This is when Taehyung feels like he’s truly being himself painting, expressing himself without saying anything. Moments like these wish Taehyung would’ve chosen doing what he has a passion for insteading appealing to his mothers standards.

“ Why are you a data analysis major?” The artwork he is doing is remarkable, there’s dark undertones and eerie about it but it is beautiful something that you have to keep staring at.

He chuckles, “ Because I need to eat.” You look down feeling a little insulted he must've noticed since he immediately apologizes.

“ It’s okay. You know if you ever want to relax and paint, you can come here,” you continue painting small flowers. The first time, he smiles and nods his head.

---

5 months later

This is the third flower shop visited and he’s getting more tired with each second. “ This arrangement or this one?” You ask Taehyung, as you hold two bouquets. One was more filled with carnations and the other was filled with lilies. He gives it some thought before pointing at the carnations. “ This would be pretty to paint,” you smell it getting happy inside.

“ Finally, when can we eat...I didn't eat anything this morning,” his stomach growls at the thought of food. He’s still carrying the vases you bought at the thrift shop, you had to plead with you to not buy another antique mirror because he knows he would have to carry it to the apartment.

You gave the cashier the money, as he wraps the flowers in newspaper, turning your head you look at Taehyung, “ Why did you come with me if you were going to complain the whole time?” You laugh at his scrunched nose as you pinch it. The flowers are handed back and you thank the cashier, leaving with Taehyung.

“ Because I wanted to,” Taehyung shrugs. In your apartment he puts the flowers away as you cook him food, he always enjoys your cooking. When he was younger all he ever ate was ramen, never really ate some home cooked meals, his mother was always busy working trying to financially support the family so he never once asked his mom for dinner. Even at his own apartment he doesn’t eat Jungkook’s food since he doesn’t know how to cook either. Sometimes when he’s hungry he’ll just come to your apartment and you’ll be more than happy to cook for him.

When Taehyung enters his apartment Jungkook is watching anime, foot propped on the table and sipping some beer. “ Back from your girlfriends’ so soon?”

“ Not my girlfriend but yeah, I left my schoolwork here so I had to come back,” he sighs. Taehyung doesn’t get mad when Jungkook teases him about you being his girlfriend, but he sometimes gets annoyed. He likes the friendship between the two of you, it’s different from any other friendships he had in the past. “ Tomorrow night the apartment is mine. This guy wants to hangout with me.”

“ Just say he wants to fuck you,” Jungkook yells as Taehyung closes his bedroom door.

---

You meet Taehyung at the park with some bread, he hugs you and asks about your day. “ It was okay. Had lunch with my Dad, but it always ends up in some lecture. I swear, sometimes it feels like I’m fifteen or something,” you tear a piece of bread throwing it into the pond watching some ducks gobble it. You try to look at Taehyung but it hurts when you see some hickies on his neck. On the day you were about to confess your feelings to Taehyung you asked him if he ever loved someone, he laughed and said that he doesn’t believe in no such thing as love. As much as you wanted to disapprove of that idea, you couldn’t be the one to change it.

He grabs some bread, chucking some pieces out, “ What was the argument?”

You laugh thinking about your Dad’s red face, “ I invited him to my apartment, and he found the blunt we smoked together in the ashtray.”

“ Shit, I should’ve thrown it away,” Taehyung laughs too, pushing some of his hair back.

“ Just glad he didn’t find any of my sex toys,” you cringe just thinking about it. You feel something tugging the end of your skirt, looking down you see a toddler smiling cheekily pointing at the bread. You smile, “ Here, have fun,” you hand him the rest of your bread. You watch him wobble as he runs to his mother throwing the whole slice in the water.

“ Sex toys?” Taehyung asked once the child was out of sight. “ Like what?,” Taehyung is interested, he doesn’t know, maybe because he can’t imagine you using them. Or he wants to know how you use it. There were times when Taehyung wanted to have sex with you but he turned those urges off. He doesn’t want to give you mixed signals remembering Jungkook’s words of advice. “ Never-”

“ A dildo, vibrator, hitachi wand, or even my favorite pillow,” you trail off not thinking much until you realize who you are confessing to. “ I-I uh…”

“ How often?,” Taehyung asked quietly, not wanting any other people hearing the conversation. He shouldn’t get turned on but he is.

Something about Taehyung’s deep quiet voice is making you squeeze your thighs, “ Every night…” You're still looking at the pond, watching the ripples that are caused by the ducks swimming away. You can feel Taehyung's stare but you ignore it. The conversation switches to another topic when you talk about your school work. The sun sets and you both part ways.

The sound of tea kettle wakes you up from your concentration of you sketching, sighing you pour yourself the tea. Looking at your art, you turn it over not wanting to see Taehyung’s face right now. But fate has different plans when you hear knocking on the door, Taehyung appears, he lets himself in and is close to your face.

“ Taehyung?” You’re puzzled at his frazzled state, deeply staring into your eyes.

“ Can I kiss you?” The words are quiet but firm. Stupidly you nod, not caring about any consequences. His hands cup your face, immediately going into the kiss. The kisses get deeper, his hands travel to your hips bringing you closer to him quickly, you lose friction from the fluffy socks you're wearing causing you to slip, immediately grabbing Taehyung as you fall backwards. His hands are quick to save himself from not falling onto you. There’s a slight pain on your tailbone but is immediately forgotten when Taehyung goes back to kissing you.

The big t-shirt you are wearing is tossed, his hands immediately fondle your breast, his lips leaving kisses on your neck, groaning as he pushes his bulge against your clothed core. “ Taehyung...let me touch you,” you moan when he bites your neck. He pulls back, pecking your lips before taking off his clothes. Your hands trail against his chest, his stomach, towards his pelvic, trying to remember every part of him. He is surprised to have you touching him like he was some marvel statue, usually his past hookups just rush into the sex. It’s very intimate and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Taehyung groans when you touch his dick, he’s hard and wants to be inside of you already. He comes down kissing you, his hands get rid of your panties, fingers spreading your wetness. The moans you let out are turning him on even more, he stretches you out with his fingers. He likes the way your eyes flutter, the shape of your lips tremble, along with your chest inhaling and exhaling deeply. “ You are so pretty,” he doesn’t mean to say it loudly but he does. There’s a blush that blooms on your cheeks, it reminds him of the flowers you would get to study paint.

“ Taehyung,” you moan slightly flustered at his compliment. He reaches for his pants grabbing a condom. “ You don’t want to go to the bedroom?” The floor is still cold against your back, and the last time you cleaned the floor was days ago.

Taehyung shakes head, already putting on the condom not wanting to waste time, “ Too far,” he smiles when you laugh. He enters you feeling you clench tightly around, he moans digging his head into your neck. “ You are so tight,” he groans. “ Feels so fucking good, having you like this,” he confesses.

You moan loudly, his thick cock streching “ Oh fuck, Taehyung, please just fuck me,” your hands go to his waist urging him to move. He listens to your command, thrusting slowly trying to get deep as he can. Maybe if you can close your eyes you can pretend that he’s in love with you. He goes faster and cries at the pace he’s going, the pleasure is overwhelming, something that you can’t get with your own hands. “ I’m close already,” your hand goes to tug at his wavy hair.

“ Me too,” his voice is deeper. His hand travels down to your pussy searching for your clit and rubbing it. “ Come for me,” he says into your ear. You moan his name loudly, cumming around his cock, scratching his back. The sight of you creaming around him makes him immediately come, he searches for your lips, moaning your name in the kiss. The two of you lay in the afterglow of the sex, panting loudly his body is barely being hold up, and you laying on the hard floor.

Taehyung gets up throwing his condom away, he looks at you still laying on the floor with your eyes close, the realization of him having sex with you just popped up. He hurriedly gets dressed, then helps you get dressed, he gets shocked when you kiss him as a thank you. The next morning Taehyung wakes up early, making sure to leave quietly, not wanting to disrupt your sleep.

---

You weren’t going to lie, it kind of hurt not waking up beside Taehyung but you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. Namjoon invites you to a kick back, only inviting a few people to his house to chill and drink. You take solace on the couch, watching people get high and drunk, you weren’t in the mood to do either so you make conversation with a slightly high Hoseok. He’s in mid-discussion about Shrek being a cinematic masterpiece, when Jungkook yells from the door entrance that he has Taco Bell. Taehyung is beside him wearing all black beanie, crewneck, and sweatpants, but still looks better than half of the people here.

You turn your gaze back to Hoseok who’s left walking towards Jungkook immediately grabbing a taco. Sighing you decide to get fresh air, staring at the tall dark buildings. “ Whatcha you doing here by yourself? It’s fucking freezing,” Taehyung speaks out closing the slider door standing by you. He takes off his vape pen inhaling it.

“ Wanted fresh air,” you shrug, still staring at the buildings. “ Hoseok left me for tacos. He was onto something, saying that Shrek is a masterpiece. Who knows maybe he’ll write his thesis about it.” Taehyung chuckles, he keeps looking at you and you finally stare at him. “ Why’d you kiss me yesterday?”

He blows out the smoke, and puts his pen away, “ Cuz I wanted to,” he shrugs not thinking much about it.

“ Nothing else?” You arch your eyebrow.

He continues to stare into your eyes “ Nope,” he shakes his head.

Some part of you wanted him to say that he had feelings for you but in the back of your mind you knew that wasn’t going to happen. You smile pushing his chest, “ Well that’s the last time we are ever going to do anything like that.” The both of you know that is a lie.

---

For the next couple of months you and Taehyung continue sleeping with each other.

When you are studying with Namjoon in the library, Jungkook and Taehyung spontaneously show up, causing Namjoon to groan. “ You know you love me,” Jungkook jokingly says sitting next to him.

Taehyung sits down next to you, looking at your classwork, “ How long have you been studying,” he whispers.

You turn to look at the time of your phone, “ Like four hours,” you sigh. He hands you a jolly rancher, you immediately put in your mouth. “ Why are you here? You texted me that you were going to take a fat ass nap?”

“ I wanted to see you, kind of missed you,” he lays his head against the table. His eyes close when you brush his soft hair.

“ I’ll be done in forty minutes.” He lets off a quiet okay continuing to look at you doing your work.

Taehyung wakes up to you caressing his cheek, his neck is in pain from the awkward position he slept in. “ Where did Jungkook and Namjoon go?,” he looks at the empty seats. He tries to crack his neck and watches you pack your stuff.

“ They left about twenty minutes ago,” you get up stretching your legs. “ Let’s head home. We still have left over pizza,” you groan at the pain on your lower back.

For some odd reason Taehyung liked hearing you say home, there’s some comfort it gives him but he never says it out loud. Taehyung grabs your backpack, holding it for you as you walk towards your car. You look in the fridge for the pizza, but Taehyung has other plans when he closes the fridge door, pinning you against it kissing you feverishly, his tongue already begging for entrance. Laughing you push him away, “ What’s gotten into you?”

“ I told you...I miss you,” his hands are on your waist. He kisses you again, picking you up easily and placing you on the kitchen table. He takes off your pants and panties, and you reach for his pants but he stops you forcing you to lie completely on the table. “ Look at you, laying so pretty on the table,” he bends down kissing you on your lips before he goes down on you.

He licks your cunt, gently prodding his tongue up and down. Your hips move frantically wanting to feel more of him. His rough hands pin your hips, and he continues with his teasing, lightly kissing your clit before touring you with his slow pace. “ Look at your pussy, it looks like the roses you painted yesterday…,” his finger goes up and down your folds.

The words make your cheeks grow hot, “ No it doesn’t,” you get shy shaking your head. The embarrassment fills your body, for maybe shamelessly liking his compliment. You are probably never going to look at roses the same way ever again.

“ Yeah, it does Y/N, but your pussy is more pretty,” he continues to tease you. Wanting to see you get more flustered, he likes it when you do it gets him more turned on. “ I wonder if it smells like roses too,” he’s about to smell your pussy but you hold his head. He watches you cutely shake your head.

Taehyung is filthy but it makes you get even more aroused. “ It won’t,” you whisper, wanting to cry but he shakes his kissing the inside of your thigh to try to comfort you.

He smells your pussy and he groans, your heart thumps faster and nervous for what's about to say, “ It smells better,” he kisses your clit. His tongue keeps tracing your folds gently wanting to make you beg for more. The movement of his tongue makes you want to pull your own hair out. The pleasure is barely there but it grows within each second of his tongue flicking up and down.

“ Taehyung,” you let out desperate whine, “ please, I need more.” One of his hands slap your cunt, and your back arches surprise but even more turned on. You never knew that you were into that. The sting hurts at first but shoots up ecstasy after a nanosecond, you can’t help but seek more. “ More!”

Taehyung lets out a dark chuckle, he gives you another slap, slightly harder on the center of your clit, the stinging making your face scrunch up but letting out a lewd moan. He groans at your wetness seeping out some of it landing on the table.

Suddenly, he is done with all the teasing, and dives in, nose touching your clit and tongue inside your entrance going in and out. Finding it extremely hot that you are riding his face, like the pillow on your bed. Taehyung vividly remembers when you showed him how you ride your pillow last week. The way you desperately let out cute whines trying so hard to relieve yourself as Taehyung only watched, wanting to see you get off without his help.

He moves his face side to side so his nose can rub your clit. Head in the clouds, your body is floating with ecstasy wanting to stay in it forever. Your hands reach down trying to anchor yourself, Taehyung reaches for your hand holding it tight. You cry out his name loudly, coming intensely, your eyes are shut when it doesn’t seem to stop. Your body finally calms down, looking down you see Taehyung’s face is completely wet. “ Oh my god, did I-

“ Fuck, that was hot,” Taehyung wipes his face with the back his arm. He kisses your lips, he helps you from the table, handing you your panties.

“ Let me repay you?,” you tug at his belt loop, you look down to see the bulge is gone and there’s a wet stain. Your eyes widen, “ Did you come?”

“ Yeah, you squirting on me, made me bust a nut. I swore I never came that hard either,” he sighs happily. Laughing you go towards the fridge, finally eating the cold pizza. You hand him one and he eats it in two bites. “ My mom called me today…”

Taehyung hardly talks about his family, you only know that he was raised only by his mother. He never talked bad about her but you can tell that they didn’t have a close relationship. “ What happened?” You and Taehyung move so you're sitting on the couch.

“ She told me that my father wanted to meet up with me,” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “ Told her that I don’t want to. She started crying and telling me that he’s my father...I sometimes think she’s still in love with him. She’s an idiot.” He lays his back staring at the ceiling.

“ Sometimes it’s hard to get over someone that you once loved. The one you shared your laughs, arguments, touches, memories...vanish into thin air... or you could hold onto it. Love isn’t easy...it’s messy, it’s confusing but it’s beautiful being able to share it with someone. Don’t you think?” You look at Taehyung’s side profile.

Taehyung turns his head looking at you, “ I don’t know...I will never fall in love. I don’t want to end up like my parents,” he closes his eyes.

“ Taehyung-“

He opens his eyes smiling, grabbing your hands, “ Let’s head to bed,” already over the conversation.

---

Jungkook is cooking breakfast and almost burns his hand when a random girl walks out of Taehyung’s room. Immediately she exits their apartment, doing the walk of shame. Taehyung walks out shirtless with hickies on his chest and dishevelled hair. Jungkook clears his throat, “ Thought you were seeing Y/N,” he turns off the stove.

Taehyung grabs a glass of water, “ We are just friends,” he takes several gulps.

Jungkook scoffs rolling his eyes at his friend’s stupidity, “ Yeah, friends who have sex, hold hands, and almost spend every night together. My bad I forgot they changed the definition of ‘friends’ in the Webster dictionary.”

“ Whatever man...I'm out of here,” Taehyung leaves the kitchen going to his room. He looks at himself in the mirror, disgusted at his appearance, at the splotchy marks on his neck. Why am I like this? Taehyung leaves his apartment ignoring Jungkook, entering your apartment with his set of keys. He looks at you cooking pancakes, you look at him quickly and smiling.

“ Hey...you want some? It’s your favorite banana pancakes,” you flip the pancake. He looks at the big stack of pancakes you have on the table, you continue with the last couple of pancakes and sit down taking a couple of bites. You are consumed by the taste, not really focusing on Taehyung until he clears his throat, looking at him you notice marks on his neck. Your heart plummets, you thought the whole time the two of you have been messing around he wasn’t seeing anyone else. “ You hooked up with someone else yesterday?,” you set your utensils down.

Taehyung nods trying to look nonchalant, “ Yeah, is that a problem?”

“ No,” you try to lie to yourself but it’s no use, your face looks the opposite of how you feel, disheartening, you can’t save face even if your life's on the line. Swallowing hard you shake your head, “ Actually, yes. It is a problem,” you sigh. “ I don’t understand you. You treat me like a lover, but then you do things like this…” you get up from the kitchen table tossing the plates in the sink, not caring that you didn’t finish the meal, “ I open my heart with you but you don’t do the same. I feel used in this relationship or whatever the hell this is,” your hands clenched tightly as you turn around and face Taehyung.

He’s now by the kitchen counter standing up, “ I told you I’m not looking for love. I’m sorry if I gave you mixed feelings but I don’t want this to end whatever we have with each other. I like how things are-”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at his words, “ Well I don’t...if you want to fuck around then do it... I’m not going to care for you like I love you anymore.” The angry tears stream down your face, your hands wipe them before he could, “ Go Taehyung. I wish you the best,” his face is etched with subtle pain, turning away from him you wash the dishes not bothering to look at the sound of him leaving.

---

Three days later

Taehyung hasn’t been sleeping well, tossing and turning, giving up completely and decides to study all night long. This has been a daily occurrence since the fight with you. I’m not going to care for you like I love you anymore. Taehyung groans, wanting to get the image of you out of his brain. Jungkook knocks on his door, eyes widening at the sight of him, “ You look like shit, c’mon Namjoon is having another get together.”

When Taehyung shows up to the party he watches you have a conversation with Hoseok, from a far distant, unsure how you would react if you saw him. Taehyung waits till Hoseok leaves, walking towards you as you are on your phone texting someone. He watches you jolt as he calls your name. “ Hey,” you greet him but there’s no smile or warmth like you usually greet. And he hates it, it makes him feel like a stranger.

“ About the last time, I’m sorry that we got into an argument,” Taehyung apologizes, he tucks his hands in his pockets, a nervous tick he developed when he was elementary.

“ Ok,” you nod your head, not wanting to discuss something so private in a social setting. “ I should get going, I got a research paper to go over,” you give him one last glance and leave, not saying goodbye to anyone else.

Taehyung doesn’t like the way your back faces him, leaving him all alone with a place full of people. He pushes against people not wanting to let you go so easily, he wants to talk to you, he wants to hear you talk. He wants to lay in your bed and listen to your heart beat while you stroke his hair, letting him fall asleep in your arms. You're opening your car door, and you halt when he calls your name, you wait patiently for what he’s going to say. Please stay. “ I-I uh...I wish you the best, Y/N” Taehyung says. He watches you give him one last small smile and drive away.

---

Six months later

Taehyung hates visiting his mother, there’s always something unsettling when he enters his childhood home. As soon as greets his mother she comments about his weight, his slightly long wavy hair, and baggy clothes. She doesn’t ask him college, she never does. Instead he listens to her talk about her work. “ I told your father that you're in town,” she says over the sound of the faucet. Taehyung nods, handing her the dirty dishes, “ I told him you are free tomorrow, you are going to visit him at IHOP,” she leaves no room for argument.

The sun wakes up Taehyung before his alarm does, he doesn’t really put in effort to look nice but when his mother gives him a look, he changes into something more appropriate. Maybe if Taehyung was in middle school he would be nervous meeting his father but now that he’s an adult he couldn’t care less. It takes him a while to find his father, he looks older from his adolescent years, has a few gray hairs and slightly wrinkled skin. His father stands up, and Taehyung immediately holds his hand out giving him a handshake not wanting to receive an awkward hug. His father looks surprised but compiles, awkwardly laughing and sits down taking a gulp of his hot black coffee. “ I ordered your favorite,” his father points to the triple drizzle chocolate milkshake with a red cherry on top that is set in front of Taehyung. “ How are you kiddo? You look so grown up, your mother has been feeding you well, huh?”

“ Yup.” Taehyung looks at the red cherry.

There’s too much uncomfortable tension, and his father is letting more awkward coughs to try to fill the silence. “ Almost done with college, yeah? Just three more months, and you gotta face the real world,” his father comments.

Taehyung has been facing the real world since he was a teenager, he worked when he was in highschool to pay for college, he cooked his own dinner because his mother always came home late, he didn’t need to graduate college to find out the world was shitty. “ Yeah.”

His father tries really hard to have some sort of conversation with his son.“ You still like to paint?”

Taehyung smiles, getting reminded of you. He wonders what you are doing right now, if you are painting the canvas he bought you when you guys were friends. “ No. I mean yeah, sorta. I painted with this girl, she made me fall back in love with painting but I did something horrible to her. Now I can’t paint without thinking about her,” he sighs.

There’s surprise etched on his father’s face, since more than a word came out of his son’s mouth. “ Seems like a very important person to you. You should talk things out with her, don’t want to lose someone like that.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “ Why? You did the same thing to us.”

“ Taehyung-”

“ You really fucked me up father, I hate that you and mom made me this way. I want to love her but I’m scared...what if she ends up leaving me like you did. I rather be alone for the rest of my life than to have someone steal a part of me,” Taehyung grits his teeth.

“ I-I I’m sorry Taehyung...I really am. I hate myself everyday for not visiting you, I should’ve been there for you...Your mother and I once loved each other but sometimes people fall out of love, but that doesn’t mean love is evil. Don’t give up on love because of our failed marriage, son, you deserve to be in love.”

---

One week later

“ Fuck, watch where you going asshole,” you yell at the asshole who wasn’t paying attention that made you drop all of your art supplies. He doesn’t even bother apologizing, just continues to walk with his friends. You pick up your pencils, someone helps you pick up your other materials. “ Thank-” you stop midway when your eyes are met with Taehyung. He hands you the sketchpads, you quickly put it in your bag, “ Thanks.”

“ No problem. You just got out of class?,” he asked intently looking at you.

His hair is pushed back by his headband, showing his forehead, he’s wearing his usual baggy grandpa clothes. It makes your heart flutter, but you quickly push the feeling away. “ Yeah, but I have to go back to pick up my two pieces,” you shrug.

“ You need a hand?” He offers with a careful smile.

You contemplate, you don’t want to make two trips, “ If you’re not busy…”

He eagerly shakes his head. “ I’m not, let me help.” Taehyung follows you to the art room, and picks up the pieces easily despite it being large canvases. There’s silence when you are done putting it in your car.

“ Thank you,” you give him a grateful smile. “ Do you need to ride home?”

Taehyung took his car to campus but he lies, he accepts your offer in hopes that you guys can talk things over. The radio is on low, and Taehyung is almost near his apartment, “ I lied I don’t need a ride,” he starts off and you let out a surprise laugh.

“ Why are you just telling me now?,” you are about two minutes from the destination.

“ I wanted to talk to you about what happened to us-”

You sigh, not wanting to reopen bandage wounds on your heart, “ Taehyung, I’m over it-”

His head turns to face you, “ I love you. I think I always loved you since we became friends. I was scared to tell you because it was something so new for me...I was selfish, I thought that everything we had was fine but I never took your feelings into consideration.” He’s breathing really hard because he finally confessed his heart out, something he vowed he’ll never do since he was a child.

“ Why? Why now?,” you swallow hard, not looking at him but only the road. Scared that if you look into his eyes, you’ll get lost into them.

“ It took me a while to come in terms with how I am feeling. Because love is messy right?,” his voice cracks.

The car is now parked in his driveway, “ Yeah, it is.” Turning to finally face him, he has little tears in his eyes that haven’t fallen. “ I still love you, Taehyung,” your hand touches his soft cheek, caressing it. Taehyung leans closer to you and you close your eyes expecting a kiss, instead he sobs against your neck. Feeling wet tears against your neck, you try to coddle him but the tight space in the car is not giving you any room to do so. “ Tae, why are you crying?,” you comb the back of his curls.

Taehyung pulls away giving you a tearful smile, “ Because for the first time in my life I know what love is.”

end.

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 5 years ago

Text

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink.

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself!

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars�� and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself.

“The whole process, it feels sort of - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.

Yours,

Bucky”

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #SSB2020 #bucky fic #bitsmasterlist #tattoos #tattoo trope

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adarlingwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Muse

Summary:

You're a frustrated and starving artist, disillusioned with the world you move in. Transported to a new one, you unexpectedly find a muse.

Notes:

Last Boss/Artist!Reader. Protagonist is AFAB. Oneshot, explicit smut.

I just wanted to write something short, sweet, and self-indulgent because damn, I need a break. And um, our favorite tiger boy needs more love.

Your mind was in a dark place when everything changed.

No galleries had contacted you to put up your works there. Your art blog’s viewership is abysmal, all your commissions are still unfinished, and your bank account has dried up. Such is the life of the struggling young artist; no money, no connections, and no talent, as some may think.

Every piece brought from you is something you’re grateful for. Every like, share and comment you receive is something you treasure. And yet, when you see another artist garner more attention just because what they do is trendy, or because they have connections, you can’t stop the resentment from filling up your heart.

These days, your works can’t just speak for themselves. Art is becoming a game, a competition for who gets the most paintings bought from a show, or the most number of likes within a platform.

You hate the galleries. Most of the time, they’re boys’ clubs reserved for old, mediocre men whose swelling egos are easier to rile up than their dicks. They sell their paintings at ludicrous prices, market value inflated by the connections they have to the gallery and the pretentious bullshit they write in the descriptions.

You hate social media. You hate the algorithm, you hate how these online venues to share your work is geared in another’s favor. You’ve tried to play the game for so long, posting at peak hours and sharing your work shamelessly to your friends, but nothing seems to be working.

You’re envious.

Envy is such an ugly thing.

Galleries rouse it within the small, unseen artist, whose talents are hidden due to their lack of privilege, their lack of name. Social media capitalizes on it, thriving on competition, the number game warping a person’s psyche and perception of their worth.

Curling up in a ball in your bed, you’ve contemplated countless times if playing the game is still worth it. You just can’t keep up anymore. Each stroke of your brush and glide of your pen had your soul weaved in them, and no one seems to appreciate that because it’s not something anyone can put a price tag on.

Sighing, you drag your feet to the convenience store to buy yourself dinner with what little money you have left.

Then you saw it, the fireworks.

Life turned upside down for you within the span of hours.

Weeks later, you’re in a place called the Beach and sitting as far away as possible from the pool, sketching away on your notebook, odd ends of paper sticking out from it. You’ve survived another harrowing game, and you’re trying to wind down with a nice sketch session.

In this world, there’s no galleries, no social media. There’s no people to impress or market yourself to; just survival. There’s no money to be earned to keep living in this world, just visa days. Days of worrying if anything you’d create is worthy of anyone’s attention is replaced by the need to keep forging forward. But still, to keep yourself sane, you carried around pencils and paper, drawing and sketching whatever your heart desired.

In this world, your art is just for your own consumption, entertainment, and respite. Instead of being the thing that kept you up at night, it became something that saved you from the madness of this world.

The blaring music stopped, sound abruptly cut off as the speakers crashed.

Aguni’s militants have arrived, it seems. Per the advice of another Beach resident, you’ve done your best to steer clear of them. Yet, you still couldn’t stop yourself from getting involved with one of them, the one with the tattoos on his face and all over his body.

The first time you saw him, you found his appearance striking. The facial tattoos he had made him look tiger-like, and the katana he carries around with him just adds to the dangerous air he had about him. The fact that he almost always wears his hood up and the fact that he barely speaks add to the mystery surrounding him.

You’ve learned that nobody, not even their chief, knows his true name. They just call him Last Boss, because he looks like the last boss of a videogame.

It started innocently enough. You sketched him on your notebook, tall and wiry stature contrasting with the flow of the loose clothing he wears. Then the sketches multiplied the more you saw him in the games, and in the Beach. You’ve drawn him wielding his sword and finishing an assailant off. You’ve drawn him squatting on the balcony railing, surveying the Beach during his patrols.

Last Boss had filled your sketchbook pages. He became your muse.

Maybe it’s because he stood out to you, or it’s the sheer, unapologetic boldness his tattoos have. Either way, you were intrigued by him. Sometimes, you swore he’d stare at you back, but as soon as you look at him again, he’s looking someplace else. The little game you played thrilled you, thighs rubbing together when you see him. You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t have impure thoughts about him; you’ve wondered just how much of his skin is covered by tattoos.

And yet, neither of you had spoken a word to each other.

It was your little secret.

But not for long.

In the lobby, you were heading back to your room after dinner to rest when you ran into one of the militants. He barked at you to watch where you’re going, and stomped away. The collision sent your notebook flying, paper scattering across the floor. Scrambling to collect them all, you crawled to find every single piece, only to bump into someone’s shins.

It’s your muse, Last Boss, and he’s found a page of your sketchbook.

“I- um, that’s mine. Thank you picking it up, I’d like to have it-”

The words left you when you realize that he’s looking at your sketch of him.

His eyes flick to you.

“Back.”

You gulped, unsure of how he would react to it. Wordlessly, he gives you back the piece of paper, and you nod at him, proceeding to pick up the rest of the pages. Embarrassed, you hurry back to the room you’ve occupied, and shut the door. Not like it would make a difference; all the locks are superglued, but it still provided you some relief.

A warm bath would be nice. It’ll definitely help melt the stress of today away.

Stripping, you entered the bathroom, soaping and rinsing the grime away as the tub filled with water. The splashing echoed in the room, and the bass pounded outside as the party raged on, making you deaf to other sounds that might register in your ears under quieter conditions.

You get in the tub, warm water soothing your sore muscles from the Spade game you participated in earlier, and your eyelids flutter shut. Engulfed by warmth, you drift off to sleep.

After an unknown amount of time, you awaken abruptly to the sound of footsteps in your room.

Quiet as a ghost, you listened carefully. The footsteps stopped, and springs creaking as a weight sat down on your bed followed after. After that, you hear the gentle rustle of paper.

As quietly as possible, you get out of the tub, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around your torso. Pushing the door open as slow as possible, you peer out of the bathroom to see who’s the intruder, and what you saw made your heart jump to your throat.

Last Boss is sitting at the edge of your bed, peering at your sketchbook. With uncharacteristic gentleness, he thumbs through the pages of the hardbound notebook, enthralled by the strokes you made on the paper. There were self-portraits, landscapes, portraits of people, figure drawing, and of course, some of them had him as the subject. Engrossed by the art, he doesn’t notice you.

Taking off the bathroom slippers, you walk barefoot, stepping out of the bathroom as quietly as possible. You were making good progress, inching away from the door, but your foot landed on a piece of paper, and you slipped.

With a thud, you land on your ass on the floor. The tattooed militant stands up abruptly, drawing his sword.

“Oh God, please don’t hurt me,” you yelp, one hand holding the towel around your chest into place, the other shielding yourself from him.

He sees you, then he lowers the sword, and tucks it away. Last Boss walks over, and you screw your eyes shut, but there was no pain that followed. His wiry fingers grasped your forearm and helped you get up.

“Thank you,” you whispered, averting his gaze. He towered over you, almost a full foot taller. You move to retrieve your sketchbook on the bed, but he doesn’t let you go. Gaze finally meeting his, you found yourself disarmed by the intensity of his eyes.

“W-what do you need?” you ask him, the tremble in your voice apparent. You’re still gauging his reactions. So far, he hasn’t done anything to hurt you, but he’s a militant. They don’t exactly have a track record for being gentle.

“You’re good. But you drew my tattoos wrong,” he finally speaks.

Eyes wide, you didn’t know how to respond, blurting out something incoherent. Then, you try to compose yourself. “Sorry. I never had the chance to look at you up close.”

“Would you like to?”

Breath hitching in your throat, you nod. “Let me just get dressed,” you say to him, but he still doesn’t let you go, eyes boring into yours. Behind his tattoos are delicate, handsome features that knocked the air out of your lungs. What stood out the most are his lips, small and well-formed, looking too soft for a man as dangerous as him.

Then you understood what he wanted.

Because you want it too.

You let go of the towel, leaving yourself exposed. But he stands there, frozen, as if he didn’t expect things to go his way.

Leaning in, you kiss him, wet body pushing against him, soaking his clothes. It started slow, and sweet, but then you experimentally dart your tongue out, and he lets out a low growl, opening his mouth to receive you.

It was sloppy and inexperienced, but the kiss hit the spot. You feel the fire pooling in your belly, pleasure shooting up your spine.

Throwing caution to the wind, you put your arms around him and his movements become more desperate, kneading and squeezing at your naked flesh, pawing greedily at every inch of skin he can get his hands on.

You toss your sketchbook to the bedside table and you hop on, pulling Last Boss with you.

Straddling him, you grind your hips against his, and he’s already hard under his trousers, making you smile against his lips as you kiss him more. Your hands guided his to your ass, and you pushed your chest against his face. Last Boss eagerly buries his face between the soft mounds of your breasts, and proceeds to latch on a nipple, hard from the cool night air.

You let out a soft moan, hands cradling his neck as he assaulted you with his lips and mouth. He unlatches from the nipple, then proceeds to leave kisses all over your neck.

Then, he lies back, and he pulls you over him, his head between your thighs.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, a little bashful because of his view of your body.

He nods, and he proceeds to lick your folds, making you gasp in pleasure.“Aim for the nub,” you instruct him with a soft voice, and he does as he says, licking at your clit with abandon. You rode his face as he licked you, movements sloppy.

Soon, you were reaching your peak and you braced yourself against the headboard. Thighs quivering, you came with a cry, riding his face as you climaxed, tits bouncing as your body shook.

As you come down from your high, abruptly, Last Boss flips you over, and now you’re underneath him.

“Don’t you want me to return the favor?” you ask him, smirking.

“Next time. I want you now,” he half-whispers, half-growls. The hard member pressing against you tells you that he’s serious.

You nod at him, and he proceeds to unfasten his belt, hands shaking from nervousness, or excitement, you didn’t know. It’s probably both.

He went in with a single thrust and you can’t hold back the cry that bubbled in your throat. Fortunately for you, you were wet enough for it not to hurt, but it still caught you off guard. He was slender, but that length… it made your toes curl.

Erratic and inexperienced, you had to guide him with his thrusts, and soon, Last Boss finds a steady rhythm, those penetrating eyes looking deep into you as you brushed the tattoo on his cheek with your thumb. You hook one ankle over his shoulder, and moan as the new angle allowed him to penetrate you deeper. Last Boss bottoms out, and he groans, rutting deep inside you.

You raise another ankle and pull him closer, and he’s pressed flush against you, hips desperately pounding away. The tattooed militant pins your arms above you and kisses you, tongues sliding against each other as filthy noises of your fucking filled the room. You suck on his earlobe, and whispers filthy, filthy things in his ear.

“You know, I’d been thinking about this for a while now,” you whisper, and he tilts his head.

“I always imagined you breaking into my room and just fucking me raw until I’m a mess,” you continue, and it seemed to spur him on, thrusts becoming more frantic as the seconds passed. “I’d never thought I’d get lucky tonight. Fuck, Last Boss, use me as you wish, I’m all yours!”

Last Boss didn’t need to be told twice. He fucked you at a brutal pace, sharp hips colliding with the soft skin of your thighs, and with a broken cry, you cum once again, your walls milking his cock.

“Please, please, fill me with your cum!” you cry as he continued.

It drove him over the edge. Soon after, he follows, coming with a loud groan. His body collapses on you, and he gives you another kiss, still sloppy, but it almost felt tender, something you didn’t expect from the sword-wielding militant.

The tattooed man lies next to you, and you curl into him, tracing his tattoos with your fingers.

“Can I look at more of your sketchbook tomorrow morning?” he asks, voice low and drowsy.

You smile, looking up to him. “Sure.”

Just when you’re about to drift to sleep, he speaks again. “Takatora. My name is Takatora.”

Smiling, you kiss his cheek, and say your name in return. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Last Boss is your muse. His attention, both to your body and your creations, is all you need.

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #imawa no kuni no arisu #last boss #takatora samura #last boss x reader #artist!reader #smut #fluff #fluff and smut #fanfic: muse #don't mind me just pouring my frustrations in this fic

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aseioh · 3 years ago

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The day the earth stood still pt.2/3

Author’s Notes: Striking a deal with an Eldritch being has never been so easy

Bela was numb.

Kneeling by the foyer of the house, she stared at the crystal remains in front of her. The whole house was in disarray, dolls once lovingly caressed now lay broken on the floor. Angie, Donna's favorite doll and pseudo-self was missing as well. Bela wanted to stand and investigate to see what had happened to cause all this devastation, but the thought of leaving Donna alone even for a second grounds her in place.

'She was alone' Bela thought, she was alone even in death. Poor Donna Beneviento the mysterious doll maker, in life and in death alone in every sense.

"It must have been hard for you, you couldn't stop him. You must have known that you couldn't stop him, only stall. Stall for a little more time" Bela talks to the crystal remains. Standing up Bela walks around the first floor of the house, she sees the fresh blood smeared on the walls.

'there must have been a chase, Angie's favorite hide and seek' shattered dolls littered the floor, sewing materials scattered on the table, books toppled from their shelf.

Bela stops by the foot of the stairs and looks at the portrait of Donna.

---

She remembers the time Donna came to the castle for the portrait commission, how she was fidgeting on her seat as her mother sketches. Donna was nervous even with her veil on her head, the fact that someone was looking at her so intensely was making her sweat.

"Now, now Donna no need to be nervous. It's just us girls here." Alcina tries to calm the nervous woman. "Look even Angie is calm" pointing at the doll Donna is carrying.

"Relax love, no one will see you here. Even then it's just Cassandra and Daniela, they'd like to see you and Angie later. Daniela will definitely want to play with Angie, and Cassandra would probably ask you about crochet patterns." Bela giggles at Donna's surprised look.

"Yes Cassandra's trying to learn crochet, when she learned that it involves stabbing things to make something she got this grin and started asking for crochet hooks" Donna giggles the sound so soft that everyone in the room can't help but smile. Alcina gives her daughter a small smile, thankful that she has managed to ease the nervous woman.

The rest of the day went by, with Cassandra and Daniela later stopping by to chat with the woman.

---

That portrait now hangs by the staircase the most prominent thing you first see inside the house. Donna's soft smile and Angie's grin captured perfectly on canvas. Bela was so lost by the portrait that she didn't hear the door open at first. Quickly sensing that something was different around her she swarms to Donna's side ready to kill anyone that dares disturb her lover's sleep.

Standing by the door is the last person she thought she would see.

"I see you've reunited with Lady Beneviento" The Duke stands by the foyer, leaning forward with the use of a silver walking stick a suitcase by his leg. The very fact that the portly man stands in front of her unnerves Bela, that and she realizes that The Duke towers over her although not as tall as her mother.

She immediately goes on a defensive, her body shielding Donna's crystal remains.

"What are you doing here. There's nothing for you to steal" Bela sounded furious how dare this man come here and barge into Donna's home. Readying her sickle she makes a move towards The Duke.

Sensing the tense atmosphere radiating from the young woman, The Duke lifts his hand in a stopping motion. "Before you continue in this destructive way, may I suggest you listen to my proposal first" The Duke enters the house and sits at the first available seat, Bela follows the man's movement never taking her eyes off him.

"Come and sit Miss Dimitrescu, I find it easier to bargain when both parties are sitting" Bela follows the man near the table but refuses to sit. "I'll stand thank you"

"Very well, now, about my proposal. I have been a proprietor of all kinds of wondrous items, and in my life I have accumulated fantastical and often occult objects that an average man would sell his soul to obtain-" at this The Duke looks at Donna's remains then looks at Bela letting the implication of his words sink in. "Objects that can curse its owner or grant wishes that beyond your wildest dreams."

"And I would like to extend my services to you, Miss Dimitrescu" The Duke finishes. Bela was quiet as she considers the man sitting in front of her.

Was this real? can she really bring Donna back to life. But as she hopes for the miracle presented to her another thought comes into mind.

"What's the price?" at that The Duke's smile broadens. "I always knew you were a smart one, Yes, as with all things in this world there will be a price to pay. Something of equal value for starters"

“Anything” Bela says without hesitation

“Ah but I haven’t even told you what the price is. Will you still be willing to exchange once you know?” The Duke prods Bela looking for any hesitation within the woman's feature and sensing none.

"Very well, I can help you revive Lady Beneviento but the price would be steep. Both of you will have to pay for it, for your part you will have to give up half of your life to sustain her. For Lady Beneviento she would have to give up her memories of you and any lingering feelings along with it. I would guarantee that she would have a new life away from here, a new start." The Duke ends laying down the terms of his proposal.

Bela listens to every word "And your telling me that what you've just proposed is an equal exchange?"

"I did say that it's just for starters, as you are in no position to give me anything of value, I do believe that I'm the one who can determine the terms and conditions of this bargain."

Bela considers the man's word and thinks of what her mother would have done. "If I do agree with what you said" she says carefully, "What proof do you have that Donna would be safe? Why are you helping me?"

"I'm just a humble merchant, I go where I'm needed, and I can't pass up on a good business deal." The Duke said with a sharp glint in his eyes. He almost seems inhuman. "And I can assure you, I don't renege on a deal. Lady Beneviento will be taken care of."

"And what if I want second opinion from mother?" Bela questions

"I'm afraid you can't do that. This deal is between you and me. The moment you walk out that door I will be gone and you're beloved will stay dead."

Bela steels herself and walks towards Donna's remain one more time. Kneeling down and gently placing her hands on the crystalized faced, Bela thought of happier times with her beloved. "I'll make this right Donna, No matter what happens I love you. I want you to find happiness, even if I'm not in the picture."

Standing up Bela faces the merchant. "I agree to your terms, but I want your word and proof that she will be taken care of. That you will bring her outside of this damned village and away from this madness. I want your word Duke."

The portly man stands up and walks towards Bela, extending his hands and offering to seal the deal with a handshake "Well then we have a deal."

Bela accepts the proffered hand and feels herself grow weak, a few more moments and the young woman faints her last thought of was of the smile of the mysterious doll maker.

The Duke nimbly catches the young woman before she hits the floor, surprising considering his rotund body. Carefully placing Bela on the floor, he moves towards his next client "Now Lady Beneviento, I will be taking the Cadou from you and there will still be minimal scaring. Hopefully with your new identity you will forget all the pain this village has caused you." He places a white circular object near Donna's torso near her heart. Like magic the crystalized remains of Donna began to form into her old body, checking if the woman is breathing, seeing as the woman looks to be asleep.

Moving towards the door The Duke retrieves Angie from a suitcase and gently placing the doll near Donna. Satisfied with his work, he moves towards Bela, scooping up the young woman he makes his way towards his carriage. Making his way towards the castle, he spots Lady Dimitrescu at the steps of the castle foyer. The Lady has recovered enough to be able to stand and wait for the return of her daughter.

"Good evening Lady Dimitrescu, I've brought your beloved daughter back. Do not worry she's merely tired, she'll awake in no time" The Duke greets the matriarch of the castle with his usual flair. For Alcina's part she eyes the man wearily sighing "You've done something to them haven't you? I will not ask the details as I know your ways merchant. I just want to know if my daughter will be safe."

"Do not worry madam, she will be fine, as well as the newly revived Lady Beneviento."

"So she did perish, alone. My poor Donna"

"I believe she tried her best to stop Mr. Winters, but alas, the man's willpower to get his daughter back is stronger than anything. I believe you also understand that"

"I do, my daughters are everything to me" Alcina said with a hard edge and finality in her voice.

The Duke carefully opens his carriage and retrieve the sleeping woman, gently giving her over to Alcina. Alcina brings Bela closer to her embrace to ward of the cold. As The Duke makes his way towards his carriage he turns to the Lady of the castle. "I shall now return to house Beneviento to retrieve Lady Beneviento and will get her to an associate of mine that would set up her new life. after that, I do believe we have our own deal to make."

"That we do" a thought crosses over Alcina "Why help us?"

The Duke considers, this wasn't the first time he heard that question and he deals the answers in half truths "There are forces in this world that exist that even science cannot explain, the old Gods have left but few remained and continue to slumber on. Some are sympathetic to human and would grant wishes when asked. I believe that is what happened with your Mother Miranda. My associates and I keep the balance in check." the surroundings behind The Duke starts to get fuzzy and dark, static sounds seem to come from everywhere. and as soon as it starts it ends everything comes back to normal and The Duke is back to his pleasant self. "I hope that answers your question, 'til we meet again my Lady"

Alcina understands that there are some things in the world that should be left alone, this is one of these. "Yes until later then. Thank you" Alcina makes her way back inside the house, nursing Bela near her breast. Cassandra and Daniela greets them by the door, concern in their face.

"Is Bella alright, Mother?" Daniela asked

"She'll be fine my dear, we all are. When this day ends everything will be made clear and the ashes of the damned will scatter in the winds" Alcina answers cryptically as the three women make their way further inside the castle.

Inside the carriage The Duke considers the days event, chuckling to himself 'and the Day isn't even finished yet. There are many more plans to move forward and a struggling parent to help'. His thoughts came to the lovers he just helped, the bargain was just he thought. He just hoped that he had a satisfied customer.

Smiling broadly he hums a long forgotten tune, his thoughts on the sleeping woman he brought back in the castle. If his predictions are right and if Miss Dimitrescu is as smart as he thought she is, then she would be able to find the loophole that was inadvertently placed.

Donna may have lost her memories of Bela as payment, but if they were meant to be together, then Bela can simply find her again.

Better send her an address then just in case. after all he wasn't one to just put everything in one basket, a little push on the right direction should be enough.

Now dreams run wilds, as lovers find their way Through the nights, not a care in the world And over there, over the twinkling of the lights Harbor lights, say goodnight one more time

----

Notes: Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion tomorrow!

#resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #donna beneviento #the duke #Beladonna #re8 village BelaDonna

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albino-whumpee · 3 years ago

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Blank Space

An idea came to mind so here. Just gonna say I made a playlist for Albus and Sann on spotify. Here. You can go listen to it here.

Taglist! Hope you liked it! Thank you for reading and sticking by for so long! :D

@castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @crowned-avery @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker

CW// child abuse and domestic violence, children going missing, child neglect, starvation, and useless child services.

“…ller…Mu…”

Someone was calling for him. But there was a ringing on his ears and his head hurt. The cap on his head with the chipped borders, protected him from the annoying white light of the school´s infirmary. He had been sent there during E.P. After he had refused to continue doing sit-ups because of the pain. In the distance, he heard a sigh.

“Serra”

“Don´t call me that” the boy´s lips moved instantly.

The guy with the white lab coat let out a sigh.

“Sorry, Muller. But I can´t do anything if you don´t show me what´s wrong” the boy exhaled, trying to dissimulate how much it pained him to do even that.

“Can´t you feel it above the clothes or something?” the boy tried to negotiate. The shame swallowing whole. The man gave him an exasperated frown as reply. Muller sighed, wetting his lips before putting his hands on the dirty gym shirt. The last tower standing between him and the reality the doctor shouldn´t see. Shouldn´t know. “Please?”

“Muller…” that tone was the signal to drop it. So he braced and lifted it up to the man, straying his eyes to a corner. The man´s eyes turned into brown plates, mouth hanging disgusted at the way his bones looked like they were trying to pop out the thin layer of bruised skin.

“Oh my god…” he exhaled just before he saw the shirt fall. The man opened his mouth a few times. Like a fish trying to breath out of the water. Gasping for just a bit of precious oxygen. But he was just a man who rubbed the side of his head and leaned on to him with those eyes full of pity he didn´t want. “I know you´re no fighter, Muller. You´re the quiet kid with regular notes. Can you tell me where did you really get those?”

He stayed quiet. Locking his jaw as he breathed in.

If he said the truth it would be worse. It would hurt and not only for him. It would be bad and even worse for Annie. Who was in class. Surely talking with her friends and bragging about the cake he had bought for her birthday. Smiling despite the bandages on her wrist.

He had tried before. To tell someone with authority about his father. He had been hopeful. They had patched him up and let him bath and eat a normal meal. But what happened then was that he was sat in a cold room with a chair in the middle. Talked with a woman that simply took notes, before giving him back to the man they had told him he wouldn´t see again. Just to go straight back home and resume what had made him call child services in the first place.

“I got into a fight” He said.

“Tell me the truth”

“I got into a fight”

“We both know-”

“It won´t change anything if I say the truth or not” Muller said with red eyes lit up in rage.

“Serra…”

“Don´t call me that. I got into a fight and lost. That´s the truth” The ringing on his ears went up. “Just…Just do your damn job and give me something for the pain, doc” the boy said scrunching his eyes, passing a hand over them roughly, in hopes it would end the headache. His dad had grabbed the broom on his hands while he cleaned the living room´s floor of the carpet of beer cans. Said the sound woke him up. So he shoved him to the floor and let it rain down until it broke. Then he had lost interest and gone back to sleep. That´s when he could scramble outside. Forgetting his backpack on the way.

The doctor let out a long, long breath that just made Muller grit his teeth. He finally rolled down to a cabinet. Unlocked it and let his fingers navigate the few pill cases there were. Nothing strong. Nothing that would stop the fear and the pain forever. Just a pill of ibuprofen.

Muller wasn´t amused in the slightest, but it would help. That and a bit of ice on his eye. The doctor put a bag of it on his lap. Taking off the cap, he let his head hang. Letting the cool sensation of the ice wash the pain away.

“Lay down and don´t take the pill just yet, ok? Do you like sandwiches, Muller?” He asked digging on his backpack next to the desk. Taking out his wallet.The boy snapped his healthy eye open going red of embarrassment. Of course, you need to eat something before taking pills and that had happened yesterday afternoon. Around seventeen hours ago.

It vaguely reminded him of Don, the doctor’s clinic where appointments were profusely refused to be paid and the man even gave them his own children’s old clothes. The boy had tried to keep the smell when he did laundry, but it inevitably started to smell like his father at some point.

“Y-yes, Thank you…” he muttered before the man turned to the door. Or tried to, before the albino grabbed his wrist. “Doc, please, don´t tell anybody about this” the man gave him a pained look as the ice bag slipped off his face. “I…Albinos bruise easily…it was just a fight I lost. Please…” Muller hoped it was enough. He was aware he was known among his classmates as a troublemaker. Coming with bruises and scratches almost every day kept people at an arm length. He would use that. He could use it and keep people away from the truth. That he didn´t search for trouble because going back home was enough.

Just so she wouldn´t need to do the same.

The man slowly put away the boy´s hand. “It´s absolutely impossible to call someone, Muller? Child services?” he knelt next to him. Taking the ice pack that had slid to his lap and putting it against his swollen eye. “You don´t have anyone you could stay with? Just for a while?”

The boy´s face went dark. Even as it formed an ironic smile.

“Why would I be here if I had a place like that, Doc?”

—-

When he went back to class, patched up and cradling his ribs, changed into his normal wear from the secret backpack on his locker, to enter art class. He saw a few people muttering something when he came inside the classroom before pulling his cap down. Looking at his red sneakers as he navigated to his seat at the front. Then tried to blink into focus the words on the board.

“Free assignment. High contrast. Acrylics. Due next Wednesday. Be sure to return the materials clean and dry. Be creative!”

Muller sighed slowly. They weren’t sure if they really had a teacher or if they were being given classes by a ghost, as they would have the instructions written on the board and had to leave them on the desk that day or the date written. Receiving their scores through email he had to check on the library.

It was odd, but it was also easier to not be disrupted on the only place he could take his cheap mp3, put the earphones to silence the room and just paint. His moment of full relaxation of the week.

After putting the earphones, he had no idea what to paint, however. He stared at it with a pencil on his hand for a long time, drumming it into his jeans, until an idea came to his head, making him smile. He rolled up the sleeves of his oversized sweater and dipped into sketching light lines over the smooth surface. Halfway through an upbeat song, he felt eyes on him. Brown eyes staring into the purple of his forearm. Not shiny from the cream the doctor had rubbed on it to numb out the pain anymore.

Muller rolled back down the sleeve, pulling his eyes away, before he stood up to grab the paint tubes in the other side of the room. A few girls scooting away as they spotted him. Always looking down, averting his sight from other’s curious eyes.

Two hours of work later, the black paint had reigned over the canvas. He had had to squint harder to get the tiniest little details of it right. Using negative space to frame the silhouette of fruit plate, a candlestick with hanging jewels and a chalice. Leaving them completely white.

A blank space in the immense blackness.

Happy with the result and having played the list four times, he accidentally put the brush with black paint over his cheek. Rubbing it away just smudging it. Letting out a groan, he noticed nobody was there anymore. Had left their half assed paintings on the desk or simply left.

He began to pick up the dirty brushes left from his classmates and went to the sink to clean them thoroughly like always. He didn’t need thanks, but it would be easier if they didn’t try to put out the desperation of the exam periods on the poor brush by smashing them open. There always was one that couldn’t be saved. He was about to throw it out, right when he saw the bruise on his forearms. Going darker in long stripes.

He pressed his lips together as he dipped the brush into the white paint and stroked his arm with it. The cool sensation of the sticky material covering his bruised skin, almost melting into his natural color made him do the same to his other arm.

When he finished it was almost as if he hadn’t fled his house after being hit with a broom that morning. It had been so easy to cover them as it was easy to wipe it off in a rush for the next class. Half finishing up and putting the painting on the desk. Trying to run as fast as he could, when he heard someone coming closer.

The woman saw him scramble outside the classroom as she went in through the other door. She just came in to take the paintings to her car to evaluate, but that time she found herself absorbed on the painting. Taking it into her hands, shocked. Noticing to a smile the same little “A. M.” Painted on the far corner, always there on her favorites of the class. She turned to the door, light brown wavy hair jumping swiftly at the motion.

She put the painting on top of the others as she marched back to the parking spot her old Tsuru was on. She would make sure to arrive early next time and offer him that little place on the students exhibition.

She did wake up early, to most of her disgrace and her co worker’s surprise. She did arrive to class with the announcement of the school’s artistic exhibition, spooking her students and earning groans, but she didn’t see a kid with a white ponytail in oversized clothes. Not the next week, or the one after that.

His painting hanged on large boards among other student’s works, regardless. But he never came back to see it

#you came back a stranger #wru #oc #original fiction #hurt comfort #angst #emotional whump #whump #my writing #writing #whumpblr #albus #annie #tw domestic abuse #tw child neglect #tw starvation #tw child services #tw bruises #trauma response

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nobody-knose--archive · 4 years ago

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finally got around to listening to sketches 3d today and man! man! oh boy! liveblog under the cut!

-piano. exactly what i was expecting

-vibrato huh

-ayyy that's some. funky percussion

-this is like the fullerenes or something. a song about an Interesting Lady

-and there's that one grainy string synth/sample that andrew uses a lot & also appears in hawaii part ii

-more percussion. this is so cool

-i wasn't expecting this to be quite so minor key

-man if that was courtney on the flute there i think that'd be sick

-sing it andrew!

-i'm already having a more cheery time than i did with nat

-zubin???

-i will absolutely have to review that voice

-wait what the fuck is happening to her

-darling you good?

-anyway. classic andrew horowitz funky out-of-tune synths

-rattle rattle

-more out of tune piano. what song is this

-oh shit!!! this is the song my friends like

-tambourine <3

-you & me? sides of a coin? good & evil?

-so weird hearing all these lyrics i've seen in the song channel sung aloud for real

-andrew is doing some good singing here. he's good at carrying the melody on his own even though i've not heard much of that from him in the past save fate of the stars maybe

-he's always been good at that percussion

-all different types of percussion. tinny little gong like it's the whole world & you acoustic

-tambourine <3 <3

-so incredibly weird knowing what the lyrics are going to be without knowing what the song sounds like. i know how these words go in order but don't know how the melody carries them

-interesting thing about sketches so far. it's very strong & powerful but it doesn't block out the world like other new songs will. i'm not being taken somewhere else it's more like the whole rest of the world is being highlighted

-alright what's next?

-7/4 hummingbird????? or is this 6/4???

-no no no it's 5/4 and doing funky things with the onbeat i love this

-asking questions to a little creature is the best kind of pasttime and i mean that

-man andrew mixed this really well he's just. incredible at that

-he's making each song distnict while also giving sketches a clear theme

-a minor turn. i like that

-now what could this be?

-not lemons & pears yet?

-daisy fingers hell yes

-another song about a lady

-spoke mostly harmony oh you clever man

-thank you andrew for doing more with time signatures than tally hall ever did. first 5/4 and now 6/8

-the combination of very out of tune & rough percussions and incredibly beep bloopy synths is so cool

-conversations with a lady. this feels like a story of andrew visiting another world and being like "might as well write some songs about the fellows and stories round here"

-the whole album, i mean

-i am inspired by you, andrew

-this whole album is everything i could've hoped for and more

-the interesting thing about it is how few questions i find myself asking. i'm just looking at this stuff i have and being like wow! &, cool! not what i usually do with new albums

-divine inspiration bay be

-that's like. the opposite of an 80s fadeout

-oh that is absolutely the little sfx from the beginning of perfect at the end

-wait speaking of at the end

-no this is have a nice day interludinal

-is this a polyrhythm? there's a 4/4 type thing in the background and the foreground is. not on the onbeat i can say that much

-man i am going to have a nice day

-he's a good musician, able to make so much music out of a single interval

-lemons & pears!!!!

-toy orchestra my beloved that's the fuckin toy piano bay be wooooo

-but man oh boy does this sound absolutely different with only a one single guy singing

-ukulele in the bg? toy orchestra <3

-interesting being able to actually hear like. all of the lyrics for real

-some of the little riffs are gone and there are quite a many more

-hello?

-oh okay

-yeah i heard about the fucking gunshots that doesn't mean i was prepared for them

-the chorus sounds so nice i love this

-guest vocals?????????? whomst????????????

-who is this lady i'm so curious is she from the old toy orchestra? that'd be amazing

-breakdown time and it sounds so similar to the toy orchestra one. man

-at the end is. not the end of the album

-i think the thing that's getting me and not prompting as many questions is the fact that like. i hear these songs and hear tally hall songs. andrew's singing & i could hear this on a tally hall album with ease. it's strange

-i think the hi-hat and other little bits in this song, for example, reminds me of ross

-andrew's always tried hard at rock, and percussion is a massive part of that-wait he's scat singing i can finish that thought later i love this

-his songs are also very easy to sing along to without meaning to. first time hearing them and here i go

-anyway percussion is a massive part of rock, andy's always had an affinity for percussion, i think that's what's making me think of tally hall so much, or at least be. comfortably experiencing this in the same way i would a tally hall album

-i can't say the same of hawaii part ii

-if there's anywhere that lists the credits somewhere i'd like to see if ross worked on this at all but. i'm pretty sure he didn't

-where am i-oh shit a crowd

-nowhere else this is a song i think i know nothing about

-all that shit i was saying about rock percussion and now there's a whole entire drumkit going here

-alrighty

-that is not only andrew singing! again! who are you

-.....casey shea?????

-you sound like casey shea sir??????

-you are either casey shea or someone else who sounds like a beatle (affectionate, instead of derogatory)

-good guitar shit

-is that a third voice or does andrew just sound like that?

-madi diaz???

-i'm probably just guessing her because of the rendezvous but. there's gotta be someone more

-a whole lot of love going on here and i do appreciate it

-is it 80's fadeout time now? hell yeah

-oh yes the rainbow connection! a cover and the final song of the album (not counting the bonus tracks, which i will be listening to)

-i think i may have heard this before? or at least the minor rendition

-stylophone?

-humming. classic move

-theremin??

-music box is also cool. i swear i won't just be commentating on the instrumence alright

-what on earth is this sample in the background. steadily getting louder

-man andrew is a great singer. the consistent double vocals/heavy vibrato suits him well

-i will assume these are samples from like. the muppets movie

-does sketches (3d or otherwise) have a pdf like hwptii & nat? i sure hope so because i will enjoy looking at it

-vocalizing again let's a go

-more gong wahoo

-bonus track time <3

-tomorrow & today is a song i know pretty damn well i hope he's more legible now

-mostly the same as the 2011 version but it certainly is updated i can tell. more echo on these beginning lines

-piano is stronger. there may or may not be some added flairs. not a whole lot blatantly changed but i can say. i'll remove the 2011 version and replace it with this one for charlie

-there's a riff in my right ear that i don't remember and i like it

-this bit right here is more legible in general thank god it was incomprehensible originally

-the stomping percussion is Goin places

-and to end the whole song- you know yesterday fueled by a listen of nat i came up with an abundance of thoughts on writing styles in tally hall and especially how andrew's songs go places and what the journey's like and while that essay really won't fit into this liveblog i really enjoy how tomorrow & today has no destination in mind and it's a gradual trip but you never look back

-such strong g&e vibes

-misfortune bay be! time to replace the other misfortune charlie has with this

-sheet music???? jenny where did you find this? [referring to the image used in the video she uploaded i listened to] also this is still not the whole song i know the original misfortune wasn't but it feels strange to start this far into the song

-chords my beloved i could fucking play this song i'm so hyped about that

-toy orchestra solid soda real <3

-the one and only studio recording toy orchestra did. this is some of the best evidence for steve gallagher's voice we have

-also the audio is higher quality than the yt upload i think

-oh a casio organ not a real organ. okay i can't complain

-i like the sound of the piano at least. also this is horrendously gorey i like it

-andrew horowitz horror writer extraordinaire

-these sound like the sorts of drum synths my electric organ has

-i actually can't tell if that one's a guest vocal or andrew just being a very very good singer

-this sounds like some sort of recording you'd take of your kid's music school performance

-oh it's over

-fuck that was good

#tally hall #shoutout to jenny yesac for uploading the version i listened to #and another shoutout to tallyall dot club for being my one-stop shop for charlie's tally hall mp3s #tis i #loolin liveblogs #i say this every time but if you want to know what the hell i'm talking about in these listen to the album as you read #and try to keep synced up as best as possible k #edu #anyway a few closing thoughts in the tags: andrew sure makes some good lengthy songs huh? less than nat but same in length #damn near all are over 3 minutes which i really appreciate. god why the hell wouldn't anyone listen to this album it's wonderful #i'm not sure if any of my guesses and questions about guest vocals & the like will be answered by anyone #but like. on that note. i have a sneaking suspicion i personally contain sketches knowledge few others have. only attained it very recently #as in like yesterday so good for me but. oh there's something to look forward to in about a month and a half #to the world and back again

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earlysunsetsoverambrose · 4 years ago

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Kodachrome (5/5)

Sinclairs x f!Reader

Warning: Cursing

It was coming up on six o’clock in Ambrose. You and Lester made it back about half an hour ago and settled in to wait for Bo and Vincent to return. They arrived around fifteen minutes after you.

Bo was now smoking out of a cracked window, insisting it was too hot to stand outside but knowing you didn’t like the smell lingering in the house. He was still in his long-sleeved uniform. You knew better than to tell him to change or roll up his sleeves at least, but you wanted him to be comfortable. There was no way he wasn’t dying from the way he was sweating through it. It was better to let him make that call on his own, however; and to not utter a single word about it in the rare case he actually did decide to change.

Vincent was sitting up on the couch sketching with Jonesy taking up the other half. He ditched his sweater, wearing an old tank instead. He also had his hair pulled up from his neck in a loose ponytail, but still wore his mask.

Lester – who had all but tossed his hat and over shirt across the room upon returning home – was helping you in the kitchen, distributing the sweet tea and lemonade. He took Vincent a glass of lemonade before settling himself on the floor with his own glass of sweet tea. You followed close behind with Bo’s sweet tea and a lemonade for yourself.

“It’s not a beer, but it’s still good.” You said as you approached Bo. He stubbed out his cigarette and took the glass from you.

“I suppose it’ll do.” Bo said, feigning a sigh of disappointment. He took a few sips and glanced at the glass and back to you, “Damn, if that isn’t good.”

“Glad you approve.” You said as you took a drink of your lemonade.

“So, you take any good pictures after I kicked you to the curb?” Bo asked

“In fact, I did. No thanks to you.” You said cheekily, glancing at your camera and photographs that you had set on the pool table “I’m going to fill an album with my cheesy, crappy pictures and you know what I’m going to do after that?”

“I gotta know.” Bo deadpanned

“I’m going to fill another.” You said eagerly “And another and so on, so forth.”

“If that’s what gets you outta bed in the mornin’.” Bo said with a shrug. Before you could fire back, a rumble from outside interrupted you. You and Bo looked outside to see storm clouds suddenly rolling in above your little town, “God damn it.”

“What? It’s just a little rain.” You said with excitement, “Might even cool things down a little.”

“I just repainted the fence in front of the apartments. I’m gonna have to fuckin’ do it all again.” Bo huffed

“Don’t worry about it right now, Bo. I’ll help you redo it, if you want.” You offered, “We’re having fun, no need to get worked up.”

“Whatever.” Bo said glaring out the window, willing the clouds away. With that, the rain started falling, tapping on the roof and walls of the home.

“It’s not so bad. I love the rain!” you said trying to lift his spirits.

“What’s there to love? The humidity? The flooding? The leaks in the roof?” Bo asked sarcastically.

“C’mon, didn’t you ever run around in the rain as a kid? Roll around in mud puddles?” You asked.

“No, ‘cuz I didn’t grow up in a pigpen.” Bo snarked, “And if I tracked mud in the house, my old man woulda killed me. He hated mess.”

You set down your glass and made your way out the door and onto the steps. All three Sinclair brothers looked after you, curious to know what you were getting up to now. You stuck your hand out into the downpour, catching the warm droplets as the nostalgia of the summer rain from your childhood struck your senses. You turned around to find the brothers gathered at the door way looking at you with confusion. The look on their faces was a harsh reminder than none them had the same childhood memories you did; they never got the chance. Well, now was as good a time as ever to change that. You dashed back into the house, the brothers parting as you darted up the stairs. You returned with the portable radio from your room. You stared back at the Bo, Vincent, and Lester.

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen, I’m going to put on some music and we’re all going to run around in the rain like we’re little kids again, got it.” You practically ordered, “We’re going to have fun.”

“I’m in!” Lester chimed in ecstatically, “It’s gotta beat sittin’ ‘round sweatin’!”

“No fuckin’ way.” Bo refused flat out, “That really what you call fun growin’ up?”

“Yes, because it is fun.” You argued, “What about you, Vincent?” he looked down at the ground, twiddling his fingers, unconvinced. “Well, I can’t make you do anything, but I’m going outside and I’m going to have a blast.” You said determinately. You pushed past the brothers and stopped at the door, “C’mon, Jonesy!”

Jonesy leapt up from the couch and launched herself outside, ahead of you. You could always count on her and Lester. You fiddled with the dial of your radio, quickly tuning in to a classic rock station, Creedence Clearwater Revival lighting up the airwaves. You turned the radio all the way up and set it to the side on the stairs, still under cover from the rain. You quickly yanked Lester outside, both of you laughing as the rain met your skin. You tapped Lester on the shoulder,

“You’re it!” you declared, darting away with Jonesy, screaming as you put distance between you and Lester. After only a second to process, Lester ran full speed behind you, determined to catch up. You and your canine companion ran in big circles, to avoid getting tagged back. The bombardment of raindrops, smacked against your skin, running into your eyesight, “C’mon, Jonesy, keep running or he’ll catch us!”

“Got ya!” Lester lightly smacked the back of your neck before turning on a dime and speeding away from you, “Gotta be faster than that, Y/N!”

“I’ll show you fast!” you called wiping the rainy haze from your eyes as you sprinted after him with Jonesy barking her support. You nearly had him multiple times, but he always managed to abruptly alter his course, just out of your reach. You never knew Lester could be so elusive. Despite all the fun, your lungs already burned and you were already slowing down. As Lester got father away, you glanced down at Jonesy, “I don’t think I can go on! Avenge me, Jonesy!” you said dramatically as you patted her on the head, “You’re it, Jonesy, go get him! Get Lester!”

Jonesy barked in understanding, speeding up to catch Lester. You jogged after them as you witnessed Jonesy rear back on her hind legs and push Lester from behind, forcing him to the ground before attacking him with kisses.

“Good girl!” you praised as you caught up to them, catching your breath, “You got him!”

“She got me alright!” Lester laughed through the slobbery assault.

Vincent and Bo watched the game unfold from the staircase. Through it all, Vincent had made his way to the edge of the rainfall and put his hand out like you had done just moments ago.

“Just look at those two, laughin’ like idiots.” Bo said with a shake of his head as he crossed his arms. He glanced at his twin to see him eyeing the rain with curiosity, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna start too.”

Vincent looked back with a sheepish glance before turning around to see you helping Lester to his feet. He tilted his head as he watched you instruct his younger brother to copy the way you looked up at the sky and held out your arms, spinning around and around until you both fell on your butts. The sound of both of you laughing cut through the rain and the music. You were having so much fun together.

“Good God, they’ve finally lost it.” Bo quipped.

“I heard that, Bo!” you shouted, pushing away the hair that stuck to your face, “You know that could’ve been you that shoved Lester to the ground, but you missed out!”

“C’mon, Bo! Don’t ya wanna wrestle, for old times’ sake? Or are ya ‘fraid of losin’?” Lester taunted

“Fuck no.” Bo stated. You, Lester and Jonesy made your way to the staircase, still standing in the rain.

“How about you, Vincent? Change your mind?” you asked pleadingly. Vincent’s eye darted between you, the rain, and Bo. “Please, for me? Just for a little while?” Vincent glanced back at Bo who rolled his eyes,

“Hey, don’t let me stop you from makin’ a fool of yourself.” Bo said with a wave of his hand, “Be my guest.”

“Every party needs a pooper, Bo!” You teased as you drew Vincent into the rain party. Bo scoffed as he lit up another cigarette, continuing to watch from his sheltered spot.

As the rain fell over Vincent, he held his hands out to catch the drops, looking up at the storm clouds. There was something refreshing about standing in a rain like this. It wasn’t like getting caught in a storm and freezing from the cold winds behind it. It was warm and comforting, like the season of summer was wrapping him in its embrace.

“See, it’s not so bad, right?” your voice drew Vincent from his daze. He nodded in agreement,

“Never thought of rain like this.” He said softly

“Things like rain can always turn into fun if you’re with the right people.” You told him with a sweet smile.

As puddles began to form, Jonesy started zooming through them with Vincent jogging in tow, splashing you and Lester in their wake. You two were distracted trying to catch raindrops on your tongues, giggling every time you were successful. It was only a few moments later you saw Bo move to the edge of the rain and glance up at the clouds. You turned to face him,

“Come on, Bo!” you begged

“If ya’ll wanna make assholes of yourselves, that’s fine! I told you to leave me out of it!” Bo shouted back, digging his heels in and turning his back to all of you to finish his cigarette in peace. You grumbled to yourself.

“Hey, I got a way to get Bo to play along.” Lester whispered.

“This won’t end in either of you getting maimed or put him in a foul mood will it?” you asked cautiously.

“No promises, but Bo’s always in a bad mood, anyway.” Lester said with a mischievous grin, “I used to do this all the time when we was kids. Used to dander him up real quick. Watch this.”

“Wait, Lester!” you called in a hushed voice. He ignored you as he silently crept up behind his oldest brother as you prayed for his safety and Bo’s mercy. You bore horrified, silent witness as Lester drew closer to Bo, stopping just behind him. Without hesitation, Lester smacked Bo across the back of the head, lurching him forward, before hauling ass. Bo did a double take, not realizing what just happened until he registered Lester’s retreating figure. His face twisted in scowl as his face turned bright red, as he threw down his cigarette.

“You get the fuck back over here, you smelly bastard!” Bo shouted as he ran after his younger brother, “I’m gonna rip your arm off and smack you across the head, see how you like it! I swear to Christ I will!”

“I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me, Bo! I’m just a boy!” Lester called back through his fit of hysterical laughter. Threat of physical dismemberment or not, Lester was having a grand old time. They continued to yell back and forth through their game of chase.

“Wait! Bo! Lester!” you cried as you followed after them with Vincent, “Bo, don’t hurt your brother!” You were pretty sure Bo wasn’t as angry as he said he was. If he really wanted to kill Lester, he wouldn’t be shouting so much.

Bo finally caught up to Lester in the grass and tackled him into the mud. The two of them wrestled, trying to get the other in a headlock first, rolling all around a mudpuddle. You and Vincent caught up and watched from the sidelines. Part of you wanted to stop them so neither of them would get hurt, but the other part wanted to see how this played out. Bo eventually got the upper hand, shaking Lester back and forth by his shirt.

“Wait, wait! Bo! Stop, please!” Lester pleaded, “Just let me say somethin’!” Bo stopped his literal shakedown, narrowing his eyes skeptically.

“What?” he hissed angrily.

“I hope ya like pie.” Lester said with a deep breath in.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Mud pie!” Lester screeched as he hurled a huge wad of mud directly in Bo’s face, knocking off his hat. You and Vincent’s hands flew to your mouths. Lester used the initial shock to scurry out of Bo’s grip to just a few feet in front of him. There had never been a moment more fragile, nobody dared say anything. Silence never seemed so loud before. Bo slowly moved his hands to his eyes and scooped away the mud with a violent flick of his hands. It was so funny, but you were too scared to laugh. He looked so mad that he hadn’t seen that one coming. Bo’s blue eyes peaked out from the brown of the mud as he shifted his dangerous glare on Lester again. The youngest Sinclair practically gulped with a nervous smile, “No hard feelins?”

As Bo pounced once more, you and Vincent jumped up. Vincent tried to hold Bo back while you did what you could to release his grip on Lester’s ankle. While you two struggled to keep them at bay, Lester and Bo kept flinging handfuls of mud at one another. All of you yelling over one another the whole time. Vincent quickly lost his grip on his twin from the slick mud and rain covering both of them now. Bo swiftly swiped up another handful of mud, reeling back with reckless abandon and zero aim, thus whipping you directly in the face. The force knocked you back as you sputtered through the dirt in your mouth and eyes.

All grappling ceased with gasps from all three of brothers. Vincent slowly moved toward you with his hands out, trying to see if you needed help. You caught a glimpse of their concerned faces through the muddy haze. In reality, you were biting back a smirk as you were about to get retribution. You started violently rubbing at your eyes,

“Ow, ow, my eyes! It hurts! I can’t see!” you feigned helplessness, adding a waver to your voice for effect. They were all on their feet in an instant. Vincent came up next to you and tilted your head up to the rain to try to help flush your eyes. Lester patted your shoulder to comfort you, telling you not to panic. Bo grabbed your wrists from your face,

“Shit, Y/N!” he said, frustration masking the guilt, “Stop rubbing at ‘em, you’re gonna make it worse. Let me see.”

“No! This is your fault!” you said, screwing your eyes tighter.

“Don’t be a brat, let me take a look!” Bo ordered. With that, you opened your eyes and snapped your head forward with an evil smirk. “What the h-”

Without warning, you tackled him back into the mudpuddle, startling all three brothers. With Bo stunned for the second time that evening, you scooped up all the mud you could hold and plopped it on his face.

“Suck mud, Sinclair!” you yelled with wicked laughter. Bo sat up, knocking you over,

“You little shit!” he fumed “You play dirty!”

“I play to win, old man!” you boasted. Bo got up, ready to attack again, before Lester joined the fray once more, piling more mud onto his older brother’s hair. Bo yanked Lester from behind him and hooked an arm around his neck.

“I can take both of you, bring it on!” Bo proclaimed as he dunked Lester’s head in the mud over and over. You wrapped your arms around Bo’s broad shoulders and tried to drag him back down into the mud with you, a difficult feat as he was twice your size, “The hell are you tryin’ to do? Choke me out?”

“If it’s death by mud for one, is death by mud for all!” you shouted through your struggle. Jonesy started running around the three of you, caking all of you in splashes of mud.

Vincent didn’t know whether to be amused or distraught at the spectacle before him. At least you weren’t actually hurt. Watching you all squabble while Bo struggled between keeping Lester in a headlock and all your weight pulling him backwards was sight to be seen. He could have never predicted this was how his day would end. He tilted his head and watched, knowing better than to get involved. He got hit with a few rogue mud pies, but he wasn’t too bothered about it since he was already a mess from trying to hold back Bo. It seemed he was the only adult living with three children.

Eventually the three of you wore yourself out by the time you were pretty much caked in mud from head to toe. You, Bo, and Lester ended sitting in the mud puddle, too tired to continue the scuffle. You were leaning back on your hands, Lester was laying back completely, and Bo was sitting back on his knees. The rain, now more of a light drizzle, washed a little of the mud away, but not much. You all glanced at one another, taking in your ridiculous states and couldn’t help but laugh at yourselves. You and Lester started another fit of hysterics as Bo cracked a smiled. Vincent even chuckled under his mask.

“See, now wasn’t that fun?” you asked them as you all continued to laugh. It was a successful mud fight if ever there was one.

“Yeah, loads. I love havin’ mud and dirt in my ass crack.” Bo snorted as he stood up from the puddle, searching for his hat.

“I thought it was a riot, Y/N!” Lester disagreed as he stood up as well “Can’t believe we didn’t try this sooner. Most fun I’ve had in some time.”

“Did you have fun, Vincent?” you asked

“Yes. Messy, though.” He rasped, taking in the mud that had left Jonesy’s fur completely brown. He looked back at you saying, “It was nice.”

“I wanted you all to have fun for a little while. Thought you all deserved a break.” You said as Vincent and Lester hauled you up from the mud.

“Well, personally, I’m all funned out.” Bo said sarcastically as he placed his hat back on his head “And next time you actually hurt yourself, I’m not gonna do a thing about it. Make you think twice ‘bout cryin’ wolf.”

“I was just getting even with you for smacking me in the face. But I’m sorry if I worried any of you.” You said

“Fine, I suppose we’re even, in that case. Just don’t do it again.” Bo said with a wave of his hand, unconcerned with the whole ordeal, “Now, let’s go home. I need another cigarette since someone made me drop my other one.”

“Okay, okay, let’s go back.” You agreed.

As you all made your way back to the front of the house, the trickle gave way to a light mist. The comforting smell of raindrops hanging on the cedar trees enveloped your senses; bringing with it a unique kind of serenity. The radio was still going strong. Bo leaned up against the staircase and lit another cigarette from the pack he’d thankfully left behind from the mud war. Vincent sat on the top stairs with Jonesy, starting to wipe off her paws with an old rag from the porch. Lester popped inside the house to grab his sweet tea before returning outside and descending the stairs again to make idle conversation with Bo. You were sitting in silence next to Vincent and Jonesy, taking it all in.

Your attention was pulled to the radio as a different song started up. You recognized it. It was that old Paul Simon song ‘Kodachrome.’ Far too serendipitous to be ignored. You jumped up from your seat and ran back inside for your camera, none of the boys concerned with your disappearance. You came back to stand in the doorway and pointed your camera at the brothers.

“Everyone say: Cheesy, Crappy Photos!” you chirped. They all looked up at you. Bo with a half-annoyed, half-amused glance. Lester beaming with an enthusiastic wave. Vincent content and comfortable, sitting with Jonesy pulled up in his lap. With an infamous click, your camera printed out the picture and you set it face down by the others on the pool table. You returned to sit back on the porch, camera still in hand. The Paul Simon song echoed through the summer air.

Kodachrome They give us those nice bright colors They give us the greens of summers Makes you think all the world's a sunny day, oh yeah I got a Nikon camera I love to take a photograph So mama, don't take my Kodachrome away

Well, unlike Mr. Simon, you didn’t have Kodachrome film or a Nikon camera, but you did have a Polaroid and a fire under your ass. Maybe you were romanticizing this whole thing too much, maybe these photographs wouldn’t mean a thing, but you didn’t care. Moments like these deserved to be remembered in color, for all they’re worth. Bo, Vincent, and Lester deserve to have good days that they want look back on. If there was a chance just one photo could give that to them, you had to try.

So, if a picture is worth a thousand words, there were a billion things you were going to tell them.

#house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #house of wax #slasher imagine #my writing #lester sinclair #tw: cursing #slasher x reader #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #kodachrome #female reader

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 4 years ago

Text

Seen ✓ - 2

Pairing: Sam x Fem!Reader Warnings: light anxiety Word Count: 2.2k Series Summary: On her way home, Y/n finds an abandoned, cracked phone on the sidewalk. Anxious about the well-being of its owner, she picks it up and texts the first contact she finds; Sam. A/N: Chapter 2! Our pals are kicking it off already. Can you smell the chemistry? The rOMANCE? LESSGO

Pictures used in this chapter were found on google images :)

Beta: no one.

Catch up! : Part 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2: overthinker.

From: y/n_andrews85 To: D_impala67 Subject: I have your phone. That sounds creepy. I don’t think there’s a non-creepy way of writing this. Whatever.

Dear Dean, is it?

I just wanted to let you know I found your phone at the bus stop the other night. I wasn’t planning on holding on to it, really, but I got worried that you may have been in trouble, and then you never really looked for it either so, I don’t know, I figured better than someone who’ll snatch it and leave, you know?

Anyways, that’s why I’m emailing. I snooped through it a little, sorry, hopefully you’ll understand it was kinda necessary? Maybe we can arrange something so I can get it back to you. This girl, Jamie, keeps sending me (well you technically) topless photos of her. It’s not really what lights my candle. I’m assuming you’d like it back too.

I hope you’re safe. Looking forward to hearing back from you!

Y/n Andrews

Do you believe me now?

oh god

you didn’t

Sure did

wow. just wow.

you just handed his ass back to him holy shit!

last time he called, he said he dropped his phone while walking back to his motel, so

he’s okay.

That’s good, I’m glad he’s safe.

I was planning on including something along the lines of ��This would’ve been easier if you were an active member of the 21st century and used social media”

But I figured the Jamie thing was motive enough?

yeah. topless Jamie? that’s something else.

Don’t be getting any ideas, dude, I don’t do nudes lmao.

oh god, no i didn’t think that

you did not just type lmao though. how old are you again?

oh god, you’re not 14 or something right? i don’t know what that would make me.

Don’t worry about it, I turned 16 last week.

…

are you serious?

Lmao, no, I’m kidding. I’m twenty-two.

But I think the word you’re looking for is a creep. Oh, and an ageist.

ouch.

Haha, I’m joking.

Lighten up, what are you, ninety?

hi pot meet kettle.

Shit I walked right into that one.

also i’d like to think i don’t text like a ninety-year-old man. could be wrong though

to answer your question i’m twenty-four.

Twenty-four huh? I assume you’re done with college, no?

Or- wait, I guess not everyone goes to college.

Yes, this is me fishing for information.

well… i kinda dropped out.

decided to go on a road trip with my brother.

things went a little south I ended up continuing the family business.

Damn, college drop-out ey? Where from?

Also, Family business? What do you do?

Is this too interview-y? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to snoop.

you’re good.

stanford. pre-law.

and my brother and i are private investigators. that’s why he’s not in Kansas with me. he’s working a case.

Daaaaamn. Stanford AND a lawyer? And now working as a PI? You’re pretty smart, then.

an ageist and a generalist? i didn’t take you for such y/n.

Fuck, okay, you sound like a lawyer too.

hahahah

so what about you?

What about me?

are you in college?

Oh yeah! Film school. My dream has always been to be a director. It’s rare to find someone who loves movies more than I do.

that’s really cool.

hey i’ve been meaning to ask.

Thinking of me, Sam?

…

Do tell.

how come you were walking home through a park in the middle of the night the other day?

Ooh, I was coming back from work.

I’m a bartender and I had a late shift on Friday.

oh I see. That makes sense yeah.

I’m sorry to cut this conversation short, but I’m legitimately three seconds away from falling asleep. I’m gonna hit the hay.

See you later, Sam :)

See you, y/n :)

A smile creeps on Y/n’s features at the thought of more conversations with Sam. He has given her something to look forward to, something to make her a little more excited during her boring every-day life. As she tucks herself in under her covers, eyelids heavy enough to droop involuntarily, the last thing she thinks of is him, the clever, sassy, twenty-four year old college dropout on the other side of the cracked phone screen. The overwhelming urge to get to know him overtakes her as she succumbs to sleep

Do you believe in ghosts?

that’s… random.

May be

why do you ask?

Idk, just wanna get to know you better.

that’s what you ask people you want to get to know better?

Yes?

Are you avoiding the question?

i do. believe in ghosts.

You?

So do i.

Well, sorta. I guess I believe in souls more than anything.

hm?

Well… I guess I hope (more than believe) that we are more than our corporeal selves.

In the sense that, it’s comforting to me that when we die, and our bodies stop working, we don’t evaporate.

I guess.

yeah I understand.

i don’t know. i guess i wanna believe in science more than anything but i know better.

How do you mean?

call it a hunch.

Oh c’mon, it’s gotta be more than that.

Sam…?

Y/n huffs out a breath, gnawing at her lip. She hopes her anxiety isn’t right, that Sam isn’t sick of her silly questions and existential dread, and is actually doing something. Perhaps his battery ran out.

...Sure.

She was doing something too, before she decided to text him. Eyes falling on all her books and notes, spread around her like ugly, depressing, anxiety-inducing flower petals. There’s a blanket over her legs, chilly fall weather seeping through her bones, and there’s a half empty pizza box in front of her. She’s full and the left overs are kept for her sister, Emily, who’s currently locked up in her room.

Damn it. Y/n is stressed and tired, and now her distraction is refusing to reply. This sucks. She hates the crawling, awful, gooey feeling of cold anxiety gripping every beat of her heart and stupidly convincing her he’s purposefully ghosting her, because he doesn’t like her.

Not knowing what to occupy herself with, she heads to take a shower. In the back of her head, she knows that she’ll probably not study any longer, so she takes it upon herself to sink under the hot water and wash thoroughly, trying to get her mind off Dean’s phone. When her feet step out of the shower and she has towel-dried herself as best as she can, she tosses her wet hair in a haphazard bun, and gets dressed.

Books stack under the rickety, stained coffee table, and she grabs her sketchbook, her favorite pencil, as well as her and Dean’s phone. She shoots Connor a text, arranging a hang out of some kind, and opens her little booklet, when a text vibrates Dean’s phone.

hey i’m sorry i got caught up in something.

It’s alright.

She doesn’t press the ghost subject, because he doesn’t seem into it and she really doesn’t wanna make him dislike her any more than he possibly already does.

The empty page of her sketchbook daunts her. With a tight grip on her mechanical pencil, she urges her creativity pumps to use some gasoline, but they seem limp and dead, and once more unwilling to help her. As her eyes fall on Dean’s phone, like a light bulb out of a cartoon, she gets an idea.

Hey, this might sound creepy, but what do you look like?

She stares at the phone. This feels like a risky question. God, if he wasn’t done with her before, he certainly must be now. But then, he surprises her.

why do you wanna know?

I’m in the mood to sketch some, and my creativity has officially left the building.

Care to help a girl out? Maybe your literary descriptions will spark something in me lmao.

i didn’t know you sketched.

Yeah, sometimes. Nothing great though, I promise. I’m certainly no Picasso.

i mean you don’t have to be picasso to sketch well. and you don’t have to sketch well to sketch at all.

Yeah, may be.

I don’t wanna pressure you into anything, you really don’t have to humor me.

If you do feel like it though, don’t send me a picture. Kinda wanna spark some life into my brain cells.

haha i will. only if you show me the finished product tho.

You’ve got yourself a deal :)

She simply cannot believe he has just agreed to this. Her breath is caught in her throat.

so.

what do you want me to start with?

Just whatever. Idk, tell me about your face.

well

i have brown curly-ish hair that reaches my ears. uh, my eyes are hazel.

Okay, that’s a start.

What’s your nose like?

it’s a bit pointy. thin i think?

Jawline?

sharp? i guess?

this is by far the weirdest thing i’ve done.

Lmao, yeah, this is pretty weird.

Exciting though.

She shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, that is definitely overeager.

yeah it is.

Her stomach feels floaty at his response.

Eyebrows?

normal?

How do you classify “normal” eyebrows, exactly?

i don’t know? they’re simple i guess.

Are you implying complicated eyebrows exist out there?

…

Elaborate, Sam. Are you shy? Do you not have eyebrows? Are they bushy? Or too thin? Or pointy?

i’m telling you they’re average.

Sam

what

You officially suck at this.

oh fuck off how would you describe yours?

Y/n proceeds to write a cohesive sentence that includes adjectives apart from “normal” and “average”. Words like bushy, thin, arched and curvy.

well shit yeah i guess i do suck at this.

i think it’s not a skill i mind not having.

That… is a confusing sentence.

just… draw them however. what difference can eyebrows make?

Oh you have no idea.

Okay, last thing.

Do you have a fringe?

yeah but not for long. i’ll probably let it grow out.

Okay, I can do something with that. Thanks :)

no problem

Her creativity is finally servicing her according to her commands, and Y/n puts pen to paper and scribbles messily. Line after line, they curl and sit on the page, forming a smile with thin lips, a sharp jaw, a pointy nose. She has to guess the eyebrows a bit, and the eyes are more cartoonish and generic than she likes. In the end, she gets anxious at the prospect of having to show him, and gives him a hood, so she won’t fuck up the hair.

Okay, I’m done.

that was quick, actually.

Well I didn’t have much to go on.

Sam doesn’t reply. She worries he might have misinterpreted her teasing tone.

Gimme a sec, I’ll send it over.

Ugh, Dean’s camera is such shit. Do you mind if I send it from my phone?

no go ahead.

[Y/n has sent a picture]

As you said, it didn’t take long. It’s really not the best.

that…

is actually not too far from the truth

it kind of looks like me from two years ago

wow, really?

yeah.

and it’s honestly a pretty good sketch. good job.

Thank you :)

Sam doesn’t say anything after this, and she huffs. Her head falls back on the couch, and she stares at the ceiling. She should go to bed soon, it’s getting late.

isn’t this strange?

Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit oh shit, she thinks. He’s regretting this. He doesn’t like her. He’ll stop talking to her and that’ll be it.

Why does she care so much? It’s a thought that passes through her mind. It hasn’t been long since they started talking and, after the near-kidnapping encounter, they’ve been having nearly daily conversations, but that still doesn’t mean much. She knows barely anything about him.

She guesses, she wants to get to know him better. He seems like the type of guy she’d enjoy hanging out with and she has so far. Stopping any kind of conversation would surely feel like a loss. She’d have to go back to her boring routine. This is the most exciting thing she has allowed herself to do in years.

A part of her feels rather lame for finding such a thrill at something so trivial. She’s talking to a stranger, and that’s all it is, but the prospect that he could be anyone at all, and she’s never even seen his face… well… It feels refreshing, new. Scary in an adrenaline-rush kind of way.

What is?

us. texting.

isn’t it a little odd?

I guess it is a bit.

I mean we’ve only known each other for, what, a week? And a half?

yeah.

should we stop?

I don’t know

Do you want to?

The extra moment his reply takes to arrive makes her want to vomit.

Then there’s your answer.

okay then

can I save you in my contacts?

Sure, go ahead.

I just did too.

alright.

Okay :)

I’m sorry, I have to go.

I guess I’ll text you later, Sam.

Go be whoever Sam Something is.

it’s winchester.

Like the shotgun?

yup.

That’s BADASS. Can you even get more badass than this? Pre-law, now a PI, and you’re named after a shotgun? Damn dude.

Well, it’s nice to meet you Sam. I’m Y/n Andrews.

Haha thanks.

nice to meet you, too

goodnight Y/n Andrews.

Night Sam Winchester :)

--- Part 3

A/N: Thoughts? How are you liking the newer version of this? right after I post it, I’m gonna delete the other one.

Taglist:

Old Can You See The Stars taglist: @shutupiminlooove @sammysgirl1997 @kymberlytorres @bambi95-blog @demonic-meatball @thekarliwinchester @littlekay15 @li-m-ii @thinspo-isuppose @carryonmywaywarddemigodwitch @ellen-reincarnated1967 @moonlitskinwalker @marichromatic @illuminatus42 @lazy-author @mirandaaustin93 @hauntedsiriel @pilaxia @devilgirlsarah @nobodys-baby-now @captiveties @calamitychaos @midiocris @wordswillscream

Sam taglist @kymberlytorres @theboykingsam @depressed-moose-78 @andi-mendes-barnes @captainmarvelcorps @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @nellachain

#sam x reader #sam x fem!reader #sam x reader series #sam x reader fluff #sam x reader angst #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x fem!reader #sam winchester x reader series #sam winchestr fluff #sam fluff #spn #supernatural #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #seen 2 #seen

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the-regal-warrior · 5 years ago

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Earl Grey and Cappuccinos: Part Three

The next part is finally here. It’s short, it’s sweet, it’s fluffy. Also, you’ll notice that this story is mostly just me indulging myself and @nalgenewhore - but it’s such an adorable story that I don’t think you guys will mind. Oh, and y’all can thank Isa for the adorable new couple you’re about to meet.

Summary: It’s a Coffee Shop AU meets Rival Tattoo Artists AU meets Elorcan - do I even need to say anything else?

Warnings: Language and fluff, my friends.

Elide had been going through her appointment book while she sat at her desk in the office, trying to decide which sketches she needed to get started on, when her phone lit up with a text from Lorcan. Glancing down, she saw that all he’d written was: send help, the guys are dicks.

She sent him a quick reply - aww, you poor thing - before grabbing her bag and making for the door. “Nehemia,” she called, rapping her knuckles on the counter to get the other girl’s attention. “I’m heading out - you’re in charge of any appointments anyone wants to make with me.”

Nehemia just offered her a wry grin. “And where could you possibly be off to? Going to see the boyfriend, perhaps?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Elide quipped back, winking as she backed into the front door to push it open. “You didn’t shut up about Sorscha for at least a month after the two of you started dating.”

“Oh please,” she huffed, though her giggles followed Elide onto the sidewalk. “It was only two weeks!”

Chuckling to herself, Elide slipped her headphones into her ears as she made her way to Cadre Ink, only making one stop on her way. She listened to the Dead Kennedys the entire walk, and she found that she loved the music even more because it reminded her of Lorcan.

When she finally pulled open the door to Cadre Ink and pulled her headphones out of her ears, she couldn’t contain the laugh that bubbled out of her throat when she realized the exact same album was playing over the shop’s speakers.

Most likely hearing her laughter along with the jingling of the bell hanging over the door, Vaughan looked up from the front desk. “Hey, Elide,” he greeted, vaulting over the counter as she pulled the door shut behind her. “Something amusing about the ridiculous music your boyfriend picked out this morning?”

Still giggling, she replied, “no, not at all - I love his music.” When he just arched one eyebrow, she elaborated, “I was listening to the same album on the way over here.”

“Ridiculous. The both of you are completely ridiculous.” Vaughan just shook his head at her, though he did wrap an arm around her shoulders as she walked up to him, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head. He and Lorcan had grown up together, and Elide knew that her boyfriend was thrilled that the two of them got along so well.

Flicking the side of his head, she wiggled out of his embrace so she could glare up at him. Even though she was a head (and then some) shorter than literally all of the boys who worked at the shop, she still had the impressive ability of being able to glare down her nose at all of them. “You love us and you fucking know it.”

Vaughan huffed a laugh. “You, I’ll admit to. But not the fucker you call your boyfriend.”

“Trying to discourage her from dating the brooding motherfucker in the back, are you?” Fenrys wandered into the lobby just as Vaughan finished speaking, hauling himself up so he could sit on the counter. “What’s good, E?”

“Well, my tits, but we all knew that. And my taste in men, obviously.” When Fenrys just scoffed at her, she leaned her weight against his thigh, digging her elbow into the sensitive skin hard enough that he winced. “What do you have against my mans?”

“Fuck, woman, stop bruising me!” Fen pinched her arm until she backed off, Vaughan just laughing quietly at the two of them. “You mean aside from the fact that he’s a brooding motherfucker?”

“Yes, you asshole, aside from that.”

“He’s just a miserable prick, E. I don’t know how you put up with his whining.” Vaughan nodded along with his words, and Elide just shook her head at the two of them.

“He’s hot,” she quipped, walking toward the office at the back of the building. “And he really knows how to use his hands!” That last bit was shouted over her shoulder, and she heard both of them groan at what she was implying.

Waving at Gavriel where he was busy prepping for a client in his suite, Elide continued her walk into the back, rapping her knuckles on the open door into Connall’s piercing suite as she stopped to poke her head in. “Hey, Con.”

“Hey,” he greeted, offering her a gentle smile as he nodded at the drink in her hand. “Bringing a certain someone his tea?”

“Like any good girlfriend would,” she joked, lifting it once in his direction as she backed out of the room. “Better get it to him before it cools too much.”

Connall just chuckled. “We wouldn’t want his highness drinking cold tea.”

“It would be a tragedy,” she quipped, waving as she moved down the hallway. She walked into the office just as Rowan was standing from his chair, and he grinned at the sight of her. Lorcan was sitting with his back to the door, his hair tied up in a messy bun as he worked on a sketch, the pencil practically flying over the paper.

Rowan brushed by her, knocking his shoulder into hers in greeting even as he chuckled quietly at the tea in her hands. She just smiled and leaned into him quickly, happy that Lorcan’s friends had quickly become her friends, too.

Walking up behind her boyfriend, she carefully set his tea on the desk next to him before she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hey there, handsome.”

Though he’d startled at her initial touch, he practically melted into her embrace when he heard her voice in his ear. She barely had time to press her lips to the side of his neck before he was turning his chair around to face her. “Hello, my love.”

She realized he was wearing his glasses as he worked, and she was quite taken by the way he looked with his hair up and his glasses on. Though she thought he looked hot no matter what he was wearing, this had to be one of her favorite looks. She’d just stepped back further to really take him in, but Lorcan’s hands on her thighs stopped her in her tracks.

“Damn, mamas,” he whistled, eyes lighting up as he looked her up and down. She was wearing an old black t-shirt of his that she’d stolen from him the last time he spent the night, and since he was over a foot taller than her, it hit her mid-thighs. She’d paired it with fishnets and her Doc Martens, her dark hair in two Dutch braids that fell over her shoulders. He slowly slid his hands up her thighs, under her - well, his - t-shirt, as he said, “if I let my hands keep wandering, will I find cotton or lace?”

Leaning down to brush her lips against his in the barest hint of kiss even as he hands kept moving, Elide just whispered, “denim, babes.” She smirked as his fingers hit the bottom of her admittedly very tiny shorts and he groaned, his head falling against the back of his chair.

“Such a little tease,” he replied, pulling her down into his lap. He lifted one hand to twist one of her braids around his finger, the other pulling her hips down into his. She groaned at the feeling of his hardening length rocking gently against her clothed pussy, and he smirked up at her. “But I guess that’s why I like you so much.”

She rocked her hips into his, laughing when he hissed out a breath. “I just like you for the pretty little noises you make.”

He laughed at that, a loud sort of laugh that echoed around the room. She’d come to realize that wasn’t a sound he made very often, and it sent a thrill of happiness through her every time she made him laugh. Cupping her face in both of his hands, Lorcan pulled her down so he could kiss her, a simple, sweet kiss that cooled the passion that had been burning between them moments ago but was still full of so much feeling.

Pulling back until he could look into her eyes, he offered her a happy little grin. “So what brings you here, my love?”

“Well, you told me to send help.” Leaning over his shoulder, she grabbed the tea he hadn’t seen in his excitement over seeing her. “So I thought an Earl Grey might be just the kind of help you needed.”

A truly beautiful smile spread over his face as he took the cup from her hands. “Elide,” he breathed, ghosting his fingers over her cheek. “This is perfect - thanks, mamas.”

“You got it, babes.” She leaned down to kiss his jaw. “I know how to keep my man happy.”

Lorcan pouted his lips at her for a kiss, which she obliged. “You most definitely do.” He leaned up to kiss her again, this one growing deeper as he carefully set his tea on the desk behind him. She wound her arms around his neck as his slipped back around her waist, and she found herself cupping the back of his head so she could angle his head and kiss him harder.

He’d just started rolling her hips over his lap when someone heaved a massive sigh from the doorway. “Will you two fiends get a room already, for the love of the gods!”

Lorcan had barely pulled his lips from hers before he was grabbing a stress ball from his desk and chucking it toward the door. Though all five guys had gathered in the doorway at Fenrys’s exclamation, it hit him right in the forehead, sending everyone else into hysterics.

Even as she laughed at the absolute bewilderment on Fen’s face, Elide couldn’t help the happiness growing in her heart. Lorcan’s friends had accepted her as one of them, and that meant everything to her. She knew how much this little family he’d created meant to him, and she was thrilled that she got to be a part of it.

Tags: @highqueenofelfhame @city-of-fae @musicmaam @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @tacmc @tangledraysofsunshine @lordof-bloodshed @how-to-be-a-bad-ass-be-me @nalgenewhore @bookrebelwordwarrior @sleeping-and-books @photofeesh @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @belamoonbeam @mis-lil-red @julemmaes @empress-ofbloodshed @thesirenwashere @mynewdreamwasyou @illyrianshadowhunter

As always, if you want to be added to or removed from my tags, just let me know. And let me know what you thought!

#earl grey and cappuccinos #egac #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #elorcan #throne of glass #tog #my writing

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franeridart · 5 years ago

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Anon said: How are those doodles?? Your "doodles" are a million times better than any of my finished drawings (i love them btw they are so f*cking cute!!!!)

AHHHH THANK YOU!!!! They really are doodles though haha

Anon said: What are your OCs' names?? They are so cool I'm in love with them ♡♡

If you’re talking about the four in the latest original art post I made, then they’re Chris (with the undercut), Josh (with the long hair), Max (with the scarf) and Leo (with the eyepatch)!! I’m so so happy you like them, they’re old enough to be part of me by now so seeing them liked is always such a warm feeling!!

Anon said: Do you take prompts/suggestions? Sorry I don’t know your policy but would you consider drawing Bokuro ft jealous!Bo? I’ve always headcanoned that Kuroo is really popular with both boys and girls because of his confidence and effortless charm; whether he’s oblivious to this attention despite his intelligence or aware of it yet ignoring it is anyone’s guess~ I always look forward to your art and recently got into Haikyuu!! And damn, I do ship Kuroken too but you have me addicted to Bokuro now *_* || Aah finally got the FAQ open (blame mobile tumblr for being a bitch), and yup my last ask is def a suggestion and I hope you’ll consider using it~ Somewhat unrelated, do you regularly add stuff to your red bubble? I love your Kiribaku art but I’m a huge fan of Momo (&Todomomo) and Kuroo (&Bokuro), is there any chance you have something in the works with them up for sale soon? Thanks

GOSH thank you so much for liking my old hq stuff enough to ask for more!! I’m not sure if I’ll get back to drawing bokuro soon, honestly? So I can’t promise that if I’ll go through with the suggestion it’ll be soon, but I’ll definitely keep it in mind for when the mood strikes!! And about the shop, I add to it whenever I feel there’s enough stuff piled up to? Though I plan to start adding more often than that from now on - I don’t really have anything for momo and kuroo to add on rb that isn’t already there, but as soon as I’ll have more of either of them I’ll remember to put them up! Thank you so so much for the interest in buying from me!!

Anon said: Ok but that Kirishima art was absolutely amazing

THANK YOU!!!!!

Anon said: Hi! First I really really love your art and I make this little muffed scream every time I see your stuff pop up on me feed. You’re amazing!! Second, can I ask how you do shadows? I can never make them look right or lay across my character correctly. Yours always look so amazing

Thank you!!!!!! I actually used to have that same problem with shadows? However much I kept track of where the lightsource was and the shapes I was working with it always looked wrong, somehow - the way I fixed it was by adding more shadows, actually. If you’ll pick any of my colored pieces you’ll see I don’t really put down lights all that often, which means the base color ends up being my light color too, and everything else is just shadows getting darker the further I go from where the light hits the object I’m shading - generally, I use a soft tool like a brush or a marker to very roughly put down where I want the shadows to go, and then using the same tool I smudge and darken it till it looks right to me. I can’t really explain it any better than this? But I have a small tutorial for how I do this in my art tips tag, if you wanna give it a look!

Anon said: I come back to look at your art almost every day, especially when I’m feeling down; so I’d just like to thank you for posting your beautiful art for all of us to experience. On behalf of all of your followers, Thank you! :,)))

Anon you’re gonna make me cryyyyy!!!!!! ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; thank you so so much, both for this ask and for liking my stuff to begin with! <3

Anon said: Your anatomy is so so so so good! And don’t even get me started on your colours! Perfection

GOSH I still have a long long way to go, but thank you so much for thinking so!!! It makes all the effort feel worth it! ( TT^TT)<3

Anon said: I love everything about ur art! from the sketches to the full colored pieces, it's the highlight of my week whenever you post! I was actually wondering where you get the ideas for clothes! I always see the variety and was wondering if you came up with them or are they from somewhere ^v^ keep up the amazing work!!

It’s a mixture of both, actually! I like to look at clothing, both irl (on people I see, or stuff in the shops I visit, or even pics and movies and tv shows!) and drawn too - in anime and illustrations and manga and cartoons! I look at them and try to remember how they’re made, and then when I draw I think about it all and come up with my own by mixing stuff I liked from all those things - unless I see a piece of clothing that’d work just right as it is on a character, in which case I just draw it either as best as I can from memory or, if I have it, using a ref! It’s one of the things I find the most fun when drawing, I’m glad to hear you like what I come up with!! Thank you so much!!!

Anon said: Thoughts on KiriTodo? Because I. Am. Hooked.

I like it!! I don’t actively ship it, since my only actual ship for Kirishima is kiribaku, but I like the look of him with todo, aesthetically, and their friendship is highly entertaining to me, which means their potential relationship in a romantic setting is too - and, as we’ve seen with my very random dip into the non-existent kirijiro fandom, that’s more than enough for me to decide maybe I’ll wanna go and draw for them, one of these days haha

Anon said: Haven't seen KiriSero or KamiSero Fusions yet! Got some ideas for those? (Filling out the Bakusquad pentagon XD)

I really never got around to drawing those, did I! That’s actually surprising, hadn’t you pointed that out I’d have never realized - I’m not doing fusions anymore right now, but maybe I could make an exception for these two............ if the inspiration strikes, why not!

Anon said: Did you see the newer bnha episodes?! Miritama made it feel like a shoujo... (In a good way)

THIS IS SO OLD OH GOD sorry I didn’t get around to answering this sooner!!! The miritama relationship is really wonderful, isn’t it? They make me cry so much, soft warm boys, so in love............. TT’’’TT <3<3<3

Anon said: This whole year has been a trainwreck for me and your blog was one of the few things that stayed constant, so thank you for being my favorite spot on the internet. Hope you keep drawing and I love your art so much!

AH, THANK YOU! I really really hope I’ll keep on drawing too!!! I’ll do my best 💪💪

Anon said: Some days I’ll just sit in bed at 2 am and be like “I need a hug” and then I read ur blog and it’s like a safe mental hug. So thanks for that.

That’s!!!!!!!!!! so sweet oh my god!!!!!!!!! ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; I’m so glad my stuff can make you feel warm like that, anon!! <3<3

Anon said: So it says you don't do requests in your faq does that include commissions as well

Not right now!! Maybe sometime at the beginning of next month, ✨Stay Tuned✨

Anon said: Hellooo hope you are having a good day. It's always so fun to scroll through your blogs and enjoy your art 💕💕 Idk if it's a little weird to ask but I also love your old aokaga art and I was wondering if you had any interest left in that fandom or would ever consider drawing for it again? xx

Gods, I really don’t know? It’s been so long since I’ve last engaged with anything related to knb........ I still do love the ship though, so, maybe? I really have no clue, I might though!! Thank you so much for liking even such old things from me!!!!

#fran answers #................i'm deeply ashamed of how long it took me to answer some of these #in my defense i was taking an unplanned break #but also it shouldn't have been unplanned so #i'm very sorry about leaving you all hanging so long orz #let's try to not have that happen again any time soon

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the-final-sif · 5 years ago

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could ya tell me more about Kat drawing? like one of favorite headcanons ever and mainly because of you. bruh Katsuki hakamata au really made uwu with his sketchbook i would love to know more headcanons on that

Okay! Katsuki drawing is one of my favorite smaller headcanons for him!

He draws almost exclusively realistic stuff. If he’s drawing for fun, then he’s drawing memories and moments from his life, sometimes scenery, and sometimes on his worst days scenes from his nightmares, but all things that he’s seen somewhere else. He also draws out designs for costumes/weapons, but they tend to be pretty realistic/technical drawings.

That’s because art is a form of processing for him. Katsuki has a lot of trouble with processing and understanding his own emotions. He wasn’t taught any self-reflective skills or emotional control skills when he was younger, and as a result he often experiences intense emotions that he doesn’t even understand let alone know how to handle.

Art is one of the few methods of dealing with those emotions that he has. It lets him reflect on the day, thinking over how things went and deciding how he feels about something as he sketches it out. It also lets him thing about his own actions and what he might want to change about them.

When he’s designing stuff, it’s still a form of processing, but it’s more of him processing his ideas and figuring out what he wants the design to be/do. A lot of it tends to reflect how he wants himself or others to change in the future.

That can mean redesigning his costume to be better for rescue work, but sometimes it means drawing up a redesigned version of Izuku’s costume which has better protective features on it, because Katsuki doesn’t know how to express his concern to Izuku in anything even approaching a healthy way, but he knows how to design better arm and leg guards. That’s much easier.

The only thing he never draws is himself. No part of him is included in his sketches, only ever the world around him. Even when he designs new upgrades and versions of his costume, there’s no Katsuki inside the costume.

He doesn’t like to think about why he doesn’t draw himself. It’s a line he doesn’t cross. Deviling too deep into feelings and ideas he isn’t ready for.

Drawing is a quiet period for him, time when he lets himself be alone with his thoughts and his feelings. And those are not thoughts and feelings he wants to deal with.

In the Katsuki Hakamata AU, that starts out being times when he’s truly alone and knows nobody else can come in and see him drawing. It’s one of the few times he’ll actually feel safe and let himself experience his emotions properly. So much of his life is spent shoving his emotions down and pretending that he doesn’t have them, that having a bit of time to himself to feel those emotions again is vital for him. Only ever when he’s sure he’s alone though, and nobody else will know he has feelings. It’s too dangerous otherwise.

But slowly that changes. As he learns other methods of emotional processing, and as he learns to open up and trust others again, he starts drawing around other people. Art is still a very important moment of reflection for him, but it’s a form of reflection that he can share with other people too.

With enough time, his class adjusts to Katsuki drawing around them. People learn quickly that if he’s drawing, he’ll be fairly quiet and focused on it. They can ask him questions about the artwork if they want, he may or may not feel up to telling them, but often times he will. They always try not to bother him with questions about other stuff though, otherwise he might lose focus.

It takes until well into their second year before Katsuki feels comfortable enough with his classmates and his artwork to start giving it to people.

Obviously it starts with the designs. He knows he’s good at designing shit, and he’s got god knows how many different designs for various people tucked away. Hell he’s made designs for heroes he’s never met before just because the idea struck him. The support department loves and hates him for all the designs he’s got for his own stuff. And some things about his classmates’ costumes or items were bothering him too much to stay quiet about.

So he gets proper blueprint paper, double checks all the support department’s regulations and design rules even though he knows them all by heart, and he draws up a few improvements and new items. New padding and bracing for Izuku because holy shit he needs it. A better electricity regulator for Denki because he’s been zapping himself more lately and Katsuki might be a bit worried about that. Some hidden weapons for Ochako, because she’s got those so many damn places to hide them and Katsuki knows she’d put those weapons to good use.

Once he’s got the first round of designs done, he’s not quite sure how to give them to the others. He doesn’t want to have to explain shit, and he’s already feeling kinda embarrassed about it.

So he.... doesn’t. Kinda. Katsuki slips the drawings under their doors when he knows they’re out instead. Each tucked into a nice envelope and address to them. They’ll still know it’s from him, because of course it is, but this way he doesn’t have to figure out what to say.

That becomes his new routine, slipping drawings under his classmates’ doors with upgrade ideas for them. They always thank him, with big smiles and hugs and excited chattering. He’ll huff at them and look away, but he still loves seeing them using the new stuff. It makes a warm feeling bubble up in his chest when he’s out on the field and sees something he designed come in handy.

It’s not always just his classmates either. He may’ve designed better eye guards for Aizawa-sensei, ones with built in eye drops to make it easier on him. Just maybe. Hawks finds designs for a jacket that’s easier on his wings on his desk.

All-Might’s not a hero anymore, so he doesn’t need any support weapons or costume changes. But when winter comes around, and cold starts to burrow it’s way into his old bones, he finds a thick homemade scarf on his desk in the teacher’s lounge. It’s extremely warm, and he knows who made it, even if there’s no note. He wears it all winter and well into spring, and doesn’t miss how young Katsuki’s face seems to soften a bit when he sees it.

It’s not until their third year that Katsuki works up the courage to give away some of his art that isn’t a design. To anyone other then Auntie Inko that is.

The very first gift to is to Aizawa, at the start of the school year, when Katsuki can already see the nostalgia creeping into his teacher’s gaze, his preemptive worry over his kids heading out into the ‘real world’ even though he knows they’ve been there for a long time.

He goes through his sketchbook and he picks out the very best of his pieces, those of his classmates and his teacher. Sure, he’s got more of some people then others, but he tries to keep it an even amount of each person. Some of the pieces need little touch ups or fixing before he’s happy with them, but once he is, he makes copies of each piece for his own collection, and the originals are bound together into a careful book.

This time he doesn’t leave it on Aizawa’s desk like he might a design. This is too important for that. He can’t quite look Aizawa in the eye when he hands it to him after class, but he does manage to mutter out a “Happy last year with this hell class.”

He doesn’t stay to see Aizawa’s reaction, but his teacher finds him afterwards and hugs him anyways. He tells Katsuki that he loves it, but comments very lightly that there’s someone missing from it. Katsuki knows, but he doesn’t have an answer for that yet.

Other people start getting artwork from Katsuki after that. They usually get copies rather then the originals, and it’s usually artwork of them. Izuku is the exception, he always gets the original copies because Katsuki knows he likes those. Most of it is just memories that he thinks they’ll want to hold onto.

Tsunagu gets drawings, of course he does. It’s less then Katsuki gives to other people, because if he’s giving artwork to his dad then he wants it to be good, but he still gets some. Tsunagu treasures each piece, but he notices the same pattern Aizawa does.

There’s pieces of Tsunagu in battle, pieces of him on his own, or with Kugo, or Hawks, and even one of him sitting beside Aizawa. Pieces of him rescuing civilians, or holding various children he’s met. But none of him and Katsuki. None of Katsuki at all.

He doesn’t press at it, but he mentions it offhand every so often. Gentle as he can be.

Katsuki knows, and it’s not until he’s almost graduated that he finally works up the courage to do what he hasn’t managed since he was a child.

He’s been working on the piece all year. His very first piece that isn’t a memory, isn’t a scene from real life or a future design. Something created from his own mind. It’s a big one. It’s got all his classmates in it. Aizawa-sensei. Mic-sensei. All-Might. Eri. His dad. Auntie Inko. Kugo. Hawks. Everyone’s there. Most of it is done, most of it but not the center, the focal point of the piece.

Drawing himself into the piece, one in which everyone is smiling and happy, had felt wrong each time he picked up his pencil. Felt like a lie, felt like he was sullying something perfect with something that didn’t belong.

Even now as he sketches himself into the picture, the last person missing from it, it still feels wrong. But he does it anyways. He pushes past the clench of his chest and reminds himself that he belongs here. He belongs in the picture too, smiling like everyone else is.

It takes longer then he would’ve liked, but he finishes the piece. When he puts down his brushes, done with the coloring at long last, and he takes it all in, that’s when it feels right. To see himself smiling with his family all around him.

Each person in the photo gets their own copy of it, each person but Tsunagu, who gets the original which he gets framed and is hung up in his living room. Katsuki doesn’t keep a copy of it for himself, he doesn’t need to. If he ever feels like seeing it, then all he needs to do is go visit any member of his weird, giant, amazing family.

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prismarts · 4 years ago

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A Bond That Lasts Centuries (Chapter 4)

Plot: Hisirdoux Casperan, apprentice to Merlin, had been sent to the mortal realm to protect the mortals and finish the tasks given to him.... unknown to him and his familiar, an old student of Morgana Le Fay had been sent there by his master....

Notes: Probably just the shortest of everything besides the prologue, i didn’t have much going on for this sorry..., IT STILL IS KINDA OKAY THOUGH, THE NEXT ONE WILL BE LONGER I RPOMISE, Douxilly, magic charms ooooohhhh, inspired by AATY by @alovesongshewrote , ALSO @blixeon CAUSE LITERALLY THEIR ANGST JUST PUSHED ME TO GET THIS OUT SO I CAN WRITE FLUFF SO.

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Goodbyes and Life In The 1700s-1800s

It took a month or two but Douxie had finally recovered enough to head on his way, the two apprentices knew that they would have to go their separate ways eventually, They both had different things they needed to do.

Douxie had a long list of tasks he had to do and he was determined to finish them as soon as possible, he had no intention of really resting but of course, that was before he got tortured. Illy too, had a few small tasks but they were nothing compared to Douxie….

But ultimately it would have been easier for them to do those tasks on their own…

It was the crack of dawn when it happened, it was odd too, Douxie never liked waking up this early…. Illy supposed his determination was stronger than his disdain for mornings.

“Do you have everything? Food? Water? All the extra clothes and bandages and-” The girl’s worried rambling was stopped by the taller male putting his hands on her shoulders gently with a warm smile…. She loved that smile..

“Calm down, I have everything Illy… you just double checked my pack..”

“I...I just wanted to make sure…. I won’t be seeing you for…..Gods...I don’t even know for how long..”

He noticed the worried look on her face….. And.. a hint of sadness, it was going to be difficult to stay apart without knowing how long… Douxie thought to himself quietly before deciding on something that has been on his mind for weeks.

“I suppose we won’t know exactly….but...I remembered something that might help us, keep track of each other…..”

“Y...you do?”

The wizard nodded as he looked at Illy, his warm hazel eyes looking at her as he held one of her hands, palm side up, motioning her to do the same.

“Do you trust me with this, love?....I’ll only cast the charm if you allow me…”

Illy nodded, responding by taking his other hand and copying the way he held hers.

“Focus your magic….and close your eyes….” He instructed softly as the two of them closed their eyes, taking a deep breath as Douxie mumbled the incantation.

“Vinculum in cordibus nostris, quod tueri se ab iniuria”

A sky blue and turquoise magical glow appeared on their hands as an intricate circle of patterned runes appeared on the palms of their hands, they glowed slightly, a gradient of the two’s magical auras present in the designs on their skins.

The two opened their eyes and breathed out as they looked at their hands, until the taller of the two spoke up.

“These will help….they’ll glow if one of us is in danger and enchant a small ball of magic that we can follow to find each other….and well, we can also use it to find each other even if we aren’t in danger..” The apprentice explained as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

Illy smiled a little fondly at the mark on her hand, “Thank you, Douxie….t..though...you didn’t have to do this..”

As she said this, Archie had just woken up from his nap and had jumped his way onto his wizard’s shoulder, truthfully, he had been awake long enough to see the magical charm being casted.

“You can always find us when you need us, Illyria…. We are both here for you.” The familiar said with a slight smile as Douxie walked over and playfully started to ruffle her hair.

Illy blushed at the action as she looked up at the taller wizard as he said, “Besides, I owe you one….for saving me…”

The shorter of the two let out a small giggle, he didn’t owe her anything...at least in her eyes...still, some fun banter wouldn’t hurt.

“You’re damn right…. Just...take care of yourself Douxie…”

He chuckled and pulled her into a hug, “You too, Illy….”

The two hugged for a while before exchanging goodbyes as Douxie and Archie headed off again, Illy watched them go quietly as she soon let out a shaky sigh and tried not to tear up… she was going to miss them..

And truthfully, they both felt a bit hurt about leaving the other behind…

The both of them spent their time in Europe still, mostly in hiding as the act of hunting witches was still at large and it had made them both quite paranoid considering what the both of them had experienced earlier.

Still, it wasn’t all bad, the two apprentices were able to get a few of their tasks done and were also able to appreciate a few more things about the changes in the mortal realm at the time.

Douxie was able to grow his musical skills with the growing genres of music that has been appearing throughout the years, he quite enjoyed it as it was his passion besides magic...it was a nice change of pace. He also has started to read quite a bit, remembering how often Illy had read books during his recovery, poetry, literature, you name it…

Illy had kept her interest in reading poetry and literature, even improving a bit on her French but she had also taken up art, painting and sketching her days away as she was still afraid of working as a doctor during times like these. Medicine isn’t her passion but she still practiced it in secret so it could come in handy and would improve her healing magic.

All the while, the two stared at the magical rune charms on their hands, quietly hoping the other was safe and happy wherever they were…..

#toa #toa wizards #tales of arcadia #wizards tales of arcadia #3below tales of arcadia #trollhunters tales of arcadia #douxilly #douxie x oc #toa douxie #toa archie #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux #douxie #douxie casperan #ongoing fic #tales of arcadia oc #A Bond That Lasts Centuries

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kerwritesthings · 5 years ago

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Here Comes The Sun

Summary: Sometimes the love we give and the love we feel drive us to do crazy things in the name of that love

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: soft and lovely and feels, however we be getting naughty my friends - smut alert!

Author Notes: This was sketched out a totally different way in my head. I had started that way. Then we took a turn to the smutty. Oops? #sorrynotsorry

This is part 5 in my series (whose name is still TBD) – the first four parts can be found here on my masterlist. No need to read them as most can be stand alone, however it helps give a little more context to the verse I’ve created if you do.

Many thanks to @whenidance & @sinplisticshawn for being my sounding boards to my insecurities and concerns with heading this way.

It’s fascinating to you to have such an inside look at his process. You’ve seen bits and pieces before, the tail end of the work on the last album. But this time, you have the chance to see things formulate at the very beginning. He’s taking it easy this week, partially because you’re around through the weekend but he’s also still coming off the high from Sunday. Your neck and his collarbone bearing the marks to prove it, aside from the few new pieces of hardware sitting on the piano downstairs that confirm it.

His room at the beach house has a massive window seat tucked into a wide bay window that faces out over the hill and down to the water. When he’s not been with you or in the studio, you find him tucked into the cushions, guitar strewn across his lap and journal balancing precariously on one knee.

It’s exactly how and where he is Wednesday morning when you finally wake up, missing the rumble from his chest behind you. “I should have known,” you say, half caught in your throat as you stretch. You look over at the clock on the bedside table and realize it’s earlier than you thought.

“I didn’t wake you up did I?” he asks, finishing a scribble on the paper before looking up at you fondly. “Something just hit me, and I wanted to get it down before I forgot. I was going to come wake you in a few when I was done. I do believe you and I have somewhere to be today.”

“Beach day,” you sigh happily. “Me and you and the sun and a cooler full of strawberry limeade and warmth and sand and did I mention the sun?”

He laughs brightly, “Should I leave you and the sun alone?”

“Perhaps Shawn, perhaps,” you smirk before bounding out of bed, his laugh bigger than before.

The weather is perfect that day, and the fact that the house has private beach access makes it even better. The two of you can truly relax and let go without worry. It’s been a while since you’ve been able to completely disconnect like this, even just for a few hours. You are both looking forward to it.

Making your way down the path hand in hand, beach bag slung on your shoulder and a cooler in your free hand, two chairs in his other, you can’t help but smile wider as the sound of the waves gets closer. “You lucked out finding this place,” you say. “Killer set up, the house and a private beach? I’m shocked it’s not more well talked about.”

“It’s not that old, plus I think the guys who own it are super selective. Don’t blame them. I really like the vibe here; it feels right and super comfortable, plus I like being a little out of the way. I’m already trying to talk my way into another block over the summer, especially when I know I can steal you away again. There’s still more places in that house I need to have my way with you in, like that gigantic outdoor rainfall shower,” he grins wickedly as your feet hit the softer sand.

You bump your hip against his and pull your hand back, “You’re incorrigible. Now, come on, I don’t want to waste any of this precious sunshine.”

You quickly dump all your belongings down to the sand setting up your little encampment for the day, far enough from the water to not get soaked by an errant wave, but still close enough to enjoy the views.

“I like this,” he says catching your hips in his hands before you go to lay on the blanket spread in front of your chairs, fingers dancing over the raised subtle pattern of your bathing suit while he mouths at your neck. You fight back the moan bubbling in your throat, leaning more against him instead. The deep berry tankini was definitely a little different than what you’ve worn before and you’re not too surprised he took notice.

“I don’t remember seeing you wear it. You look good in it. Really good. But remember, it’s a private beach,” he whispers as he nibbles at your ear, his hands skating up your sides. “I think it may look better tossed over the arm of my beach chair.”

“Shawn,” you whine, winding a hand back into his hair to tug at his unruly curls. “Don’t tempt me, honey.”

“But I want to tempt you,” he skirts his hands over your breasts, one hand cupping your left, while his fingers carefully trace the flesh peeking out above the hem of your suit on the right. “I want to have you right here on this beach. I want to make you come, baby. I’ve thought about it so many times since I got here and saw how secluded this sand is. We can finally do what we couldn’t in Mexico.”

Your mind flashes back to the moonlit walk on the beach in December, the wandering hands, his hot lips tracing over your shoulder, your mouth worrying a spot on his chest over his heart. You both wanted that memory, that moment of just more, but there was too much risk. As it was, you were pushing the boundaries on a beach where you could be discovered at any moment.

He slips his left hand down to your hip, pulling you flush against him. You’re bombarded by sensations; his bare chest against your back, his breath puffing more against your ear, and he’s impossibly hard against the soft swell of your ass. He dips his right index finger to tease and track across your nipple.

“Damnit Shawn,” you moan, pressing back against him. “You’re making it really hard to say no to you.”

“That’s the point,” he whispers, shifting his lips down your neck and across your shoulder, licking and biting his way over your skin. “It should be yes Shawn yes. Loudly. In that throaty voice of yours you get when you’re so turned on. While I’m inside you. Please baby.”

What little resolve you have left is fading and fast. He’s grinding against you now, slowly and methodically while his left hands trails from your hip across your stomach, his pinkie and ring finger sneaking under the waistband just to keep his hand against you. You know the risk is as minimal as it can be, but there’s always a chance. The last thing either of you need or want are pictures of a tryst leaked out. But the fucks you normally give are wearing down to nil.

“Fuck,” you bite out, squirming from the stimulation he’s providing and your eyes fluttering shut. The hand still threading around his curls grips tighter, making him groan against you.

“Let me make you feel good. Want you to fall apart on my tongue and fingers first, then slide into you to feel you come around me,” he sighs out, pulling you against him tighter, rutting into you harder.

Something breaks, snaps quickly like a rubber band, and you turn in his grasp. You loop your hands around his neck and surge up on your toes to sip from his lips.

“It’s so damn hard to say no to you, especially when you’re this wound up and so damn convincing. But, there’s too much sand for some of that, as much as I really want to come all over your mouth,” you mutter between gasps and the biting kisses that are progressively getting wetter. “Compromise? Fuck me, make me come on our blanket. Then I’ll make you come, riding you nice and slow on your beach chair, Shawn.”

“God yes, baby, yes,” he breathes out harshly against your cheek. His lips then start wandering down your jaw while pushing you back towards the sun-warmed cotton and his hands slide over you to take a firm grasp on your hips. Next thing you know he’s shifting you up, moving your legs to sling around his waist to tilt you gently down onto the old patchwork quilt. He eases down onto you, slotting one of his legs between yours and leaning on his forearms, just putting the right amount of his weight against you.

“I’m going to take my time with you,” he says into the soft skin of your neck, his tongue doing wicked things against your pulse point. “Going to take advantage of laying you out in this sunshine you love so much, show you exactly how much I love you, how much I adore you, exactly why I love making love with you.”

Your hands wander across his back and down over his ass, but then you grasp onto one of his biceps and his shoulder as he sucks down hard. You hiss out an exhale, your right leg coming up to hook against his hip as your hips tilt into him. He soothes the spot ever so lightly with just the tip of his tongue. He’s just started and he’s already making you lightheaded.

“I want to hear you, don’t hold back,” he asks, tracing a haphazard pattern across your neck down to your collarbone. He noses at each of the straps on your shoulders, sliding them down until they fall loose around your elbows. He slides his hands down your arms, lifting yours through the loops and then drops them into his hair. Your fingers find purchase around the swirls of his dark curls.

“Need to spend a little quality time here,” he purrs, his fingers pushing your top down to free your breasts. His mouth is wicked, you know this firsthand, and he’s proving it again. He alternates between lapping at you, sucking at your nipple and nibbling, lightly biting at the pebbled flesh while his pointer finger flicks over the other he’s not latched onto. You lose track of how much time his face is nestled there, and you can’t help but let out a chain of needy mewls and gasps. You crave more friction. You want nothing more to grind more against him, your hips start bucking against him. He knows he could make you come just from this, but you don’t want to come that way. Not today.

You tug at his curls to try to pull his mouth away, whimpering his name loudly, “Shawn, please, baby.”

His lips leave your nipple with a loud pop, shiny and red. He grins cheekily at you, chin propping up on your sternum while his fingers start their way down to the ties on your suit. “I’m not nearly done with you yet, dear. Need to make sure you’re nice and wound up, oh so wet for me,” he explains, nosing at the underside of your breast, while his hands make quick work of your top, then moves his attention the bows at your side.

“Damnit Shawn,” you keen out as he yanks the bottoms from you tossing both piece of your suit over to land on the seat of your chair, his hands kneading at your ass. He shifts himself down the blanket while he licks his way down your stomach, taking his time to leave marks along the way, ones that will last for a few days. But of course, because it’s him, he adds in blowing a raspberry or two on the way to make you giggle. He nudges your legs open, his head leaning up against your left thigh. You lean up onto your elbows to look down at him. He just looks at you for a few moments, eyes wide and dark, his fingers twitching against your flesh.

“Oh sweetheart,” he murmurs, his right index finger brushing ever so gently over your clit, then down to your entrance. “I know you said there’s too much sand, but I’m sorry, I might just need to take a tiny little taste. You’re so wet for me. God, that’s so hot.”

He draws his index finger into his mouth, sucking at the pad carefully, eyes wide open and locked onto yours. You squirm, partly from being turned on, partly from the look on his face. He gives you no warning, his lips going immediately for your clit with abandon. He’s overwhelming you, not expecting his mouth on you, alternating between kitten licks, sucking and teasing you with the tip of his tongue. You gasp, crying out his name loudly, your hands flying back into his hair. You’re not sure if you want to pull him away and off you or push him in closer.

“Shawn baby, please,” you choke out, breath catching. “I want to come around you, I need you inside me. No more teasing. I want you, need you.”

He looks up, a devilish grin across his face and is mouth is slick with you, “I love hearing you all breathy and fucked out for me.” He quickly wipes his mouth hastily with the back of his hand before leaning down for a bruising kiss. With him slightly preoccupied in trying to untie his shorts, you lean up and it’s your turn to catch him by surprise, knocking him onto his back.

“Change of plans, I’m riding you here and now,” you husk out, hovering over his knees making quick work of the knot he was struggling with, sliding his swimsuit off. If you weren’t so worked up, you’d make him squirm like he did to you, work him up with your hands and then your mouth. Right now, though, you want to fuck him. Badly.

Once you’ve tossed his suit aside, you go to reach for him. However, he’s got his right hand wrapped around his hard cock, stroking over it loosely and slowly. “C’mere baby,” he rasps out, half smile quirking his lips.

You’re mesmerized for a moment, watching him. It’s unfairly gorgeous, he’s gorgeous. You push his hand away gently, tracing a finger over his tattoo as you move, lining up your hips to his. Instead of sinking down onto him right away, you taunt him a bit, sliding the head of his dick through your wetness, nudging the head against your clit a few times. You can’t help but throw your head back and whine. His hands fly to your waist, pulling you down onto him as he grinds up against you with a deep groan.

“Can I slip inside you honey?” he bites out, pupils blown so you only see a small ring of golden around them as he pulls you down against him again. “Let me fuck you now baby, let me make you come. You know you want to.”

You nod, biting your lip, stretching up to your knees. He brushes your hand away, holding himself up so you can sink down. But not before teasing you one more time, flicking at your clit a few more times, first with his thumb before the head of his cock again.

“Shit Shawn,” you sigh out deeply as you slide down slowly, taking your time to feel, to enjoy the stretch and fullness. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He grasps onto you easily, letting you be in control of the speed, but you can see the clench in his jaw as you finally bottom out on him. “There you go sweetheart, you feel so good. Tight and warm around me,” he says through an exhale.

You can’t move yet, despite the amount of times you’ve enjoyed each other lately, it still takes you a moment or two to get used to him, especially when you’re on top. Even more so when he gets all mouthy like he is today. He twitches ever so slightly and slips just a bit deeper. It sends you reeling, whimpering and your head lolls back while you brace your hands on his chest.

“I should say I’m sorry but I’m not, not when you look that beautiful above me, blissed out,” his eyes soft, hands drawing loops across the tops of your thighs. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You start easily, a light rock, a swivel and circle of your hips. Your fingers flicking at his nipples. His eyes close, only for a moment though, his lips part as he takes a deep breath. Increasing the speed of the grinding, consciously clenching around him while still buried deep inside you, it makes him grip your knees tighter, his knuckles turning white.

“If I can’t hold back, you can’t either,” you fight out, watching him bite his lip, eyes still locked onto you. “I want to hear those delicious sounds from you, Shawn.” You slide up off his cock slowly, then slip back down quickly. It earns you a growl. Both slow on the up and down, a sigh with a head loll to the side. Quickly up and a slow way down, a hiss through his teeth.

After a few passes at each, you try to keep him growling, making faster passes, you bounce quicker on him. He braces his feet up, hands shifting to squeeze your hips and he starts meeting you for each thrust. He leans up, lapping and sucking at your breasts again. You can feel the build up at the pit of your stomach. You chase it, moving faster, grinding your hips on the down for stimulation on your clit.

“Baby, shit. I’m getting close, can you, touch me please. Make me come, I want to come, I want to come for you,” you babble out, so near blissing out completely.

He takes hold and surprises you this time, flipping you onto your back without sliding out. He pushes deeper, hitching your left thigh up over his hip and leaning your calf up against his arm. Your eyes start to flutter closed, overwhelmed. “Let me see those pretty eyes of yours. I want to see you when you fall apart and fall over the edge, when you come all over my cock,” he pleads, hips snapping into you.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb making the up and over loop that he knows drives you over the edge. “Come on baby, just let go. Come for me,” he leans down, whispering into your ear before biting at the lobe.

That sparks everything. You lock eyes with him and cry out, arching your back. Your hands dig into his biceps as you shake, clenching around his dick. It overtakes you like a warm wave. He coaxes you through it, slowing and easing as you come down, nuzzling your neck.

“Damn,” you say, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, hands making their way up to the nape of his neck. “Holy shit baby.” He’s still shallowly shifts his hips against you. Trying to respect how sensitive you are after you orgasm, but still being wound up himself.

“Your turn, I know how badly you want to come too,” you mutter into his cheek, twirling the damp curls at the base of his head. “I’m ok, take what you need honey, I can’t wait to feel you come inside me.”

“Fuck,” he bites into your shoulder as he speeds up, strokes getting deeper and faster. He hitches your leg up again, this time up over his shoulder. “You felt so good coming around my dick, baby. I’m not far off, you have me close.”

You skate your right hand down his ribs, grabbing a handful of his ass pushing him closer and he fights back a growl. “No holding back, sweetie. Feel it all. Just come. Let me feel you coming deep inside me. I know you want to.”

A few more stuttered thrusts and he’s grinding his hips as he tips his head, groaning your name deep and loud as he comes. He eases your leg down and leans fully down onto you, his head finding that spot he loves so much where your neck and shoulder meet. You feel his warm breath coming back down to normal, while your fingertips map the muscles of his shoulders and back.

“This was so much better than I even imagined,” he sighs happily, dusting kisses across your collarbone before leaning up onto his forearms to look at you. His smile is easy and soft, content and relaxed. He tucks a stray strand of hair up behind your ear. “I am so lucky to have you, in general, but then to have you like this? That you let me love you this way? I’m grateful. I love you; I love you more than I think I can say. Words aren’t enough. This isn’t even enough. You’re all encompassing. You’re everything you know?”

You get misty and can’t help but lean up to kiss him sweetly.

“Sex so good my little songwriting rockstar is speechless?” you tease with a giggle.

He starts to tickle you, “I’m trying to be sweet and loving here and you have to go be a smart ass.”

“But I’m your smart ass, the smart ass who knows exactly how you’re feeling. The one who loves you just as much. The one who doesn’t want to have anyone else other than you,” you say, cupping his cheek. “I love you Shawn, so much that it’s scary and exciting at the same time. I don’t want to know what it’s like not to love you.”

He turns to kiss your palm before leaning down to kiss you ever so gently, “Come on, let’s go take a dip. Don’t even think about putting that suit on yet. I have more plans for you. I promised my girl a day in the sun and I’m not letting her down.”

TAG LIST: @whenidance, @justinndavis, @sinplisticshawn, @hollandraul, @fallinallincurls, @itrocksmysocks, @rainbowshawn, @lasingphomustra, @illumecherry

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes blurb

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