#fuck you [microwaves your john doe]

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

So I was reading articles about John Hurt (as I do when I procrastinate on life in general lol) and I saw a still shot of a movie I’ve never seen still shots of before; so I looked it up. It’s a play. I was worried I wouldn’t find it in full online; but I did, so here it is in all its glory:

He’s just… ugh I want to gently hold his face in my hands he’s just so sad and lonely with his weepy voice and eye bags. I couldn’t process half of what he said but I think this is a warning about always speed-running through life to get to the next good thing. We should appreciate the moment; because in the end, we’ll have nothing at all but our memories. If we rush through life, we won’t have any memories to keep us warm at night when the chill of death creeps up on us in our old age.

Also, spool, spooooooooooollll…….

spoooooooooooooooooooooolllllll [cackles in mentally unstable]

@kaleidoscopr @theindo @possessedbydevils @randomtwospirit

[c0smic-horrorwerewolf]

NOOO YOULL MIRCOWAVE HIM TOO LONG!!! WHAT IF THERE IS METAL ON HIM!!!!

i have made more spinning john gifs at different speeds

look at him go

[bloodypeachblog]

The Tumblr Yandere Quintet (Peter, Sunny Day Jack, John Doe, Damon, and Alan Orion) - my personal headcanons SFW + NSFW

(TW: blood, knives, death, cannibalism, anything associated with yanderes will most likely be here, so you've been warned)

A/N: btw they coexist in the same universe here. Like, let's say they all live together in a house with Y/N. Why? Because I can. Also this is all F!Reader, so yeah.

~♡~Peter~♡~

• He is shy boi when it comes to you. He acts confident, but underneath he is lowkey panicking.

• But towards others, he is brat. Just, burns and roasts up the wazoo. It's like the person flips the switch and activates his bitch mode.

• he loves playing video games, anything that seem interesting to him. He loves Dead by Daylight and his favorite role is the killer.

• True Crime Aficionado. He listens to podcasts, watches documentaries and movies and YouTube videos, he knows serial killers' stories like the back of his hand.

• he can cook and bake pretty well. He's not Gordon Ramsay levels of good, but he very rarely makes a bad dish. He likes to make food for you and watch your reactions to it.

• as a boyfriend, he is such a hopeless romantic. Roses, poems, serenades (he's not confident in his singing voice, so he plays songs that say whatever he's feeling and sends you the youtube link to listen to them, or just blaring them on the radio outside your window), the whole shebang. Of course, he's not obnoxious about it. Just enough to make you swoon.

• You guys know that old famous photo of a soldier kissing his girlfriend after WW2? Yeah, Peter loves doing that to you.

• pet names for you: Darling, Honey, Baby, Princess, Angel. Basic stuff.

♡NSFW♡

• he likes to nibble on your ear. He loves your reactions to it.

• guy is a straight-up pervert. He'd grope you when you're alone and make dirty jokes. You'd blush tomato red each time.

• angel on the streets, devil in the sheets. More like incubus in the sheets. He will find ways to make you moan his name.

• WHAT DAT TONGUE DO THO? OH LAWD Seriously, when he eats you out, you swear you can feel the very tip of his tongue brush against your cervix.

• favorite positions are missionary, mating press, and doggy style. But he likes oral too, both sides. He loves feeling your warm mouth taking in his cock, he struggles not to cum right then and there. He loves your taste, he can't get enough of it.

•some nights he can be gentle, other nights he'll fuck you into the dirt.

• his cock is about 5.6 inches, good thickness. Not the dick of the gods, but still something to brag about. Very pretty, too.

• Knifeplay? On you, depends on if you're into it or not. On him, FUCK YEAH. He fantasizes about you using a knife to write your name on his chest. Getting cut gives him the biggest hard-on, he'd be already dripping pre-cum. And if you lick the cuts? Oh, this man will cum immediately.

• Anal? Hell yeah. If you're okay with it, of course.

~~~~~

~♡~Damon~♡~

• He's more chill and laid back. Also he's emo. Because I said so.

• He likes listening to music. He likes any genre, but he tends to leans towards emo bands, stuff from Lapfox Trax, and metal. But you play a country song, he will destroy the radio or debate on murdering the artist.

• He wears his puffy coat almost 24/7. I say almost because he can't wear it in the shower. He loves to share it with you, the whole two person in one coat thing couples do.

• he's a cuddle bug, but won't admit it. If you tease him about it, he'll deny it and blush.

• he acts like a kuudere to others, if not annoyed. But when with you, he's so sweet. He'd give you his umbrella if it's raining and you didn't have one.

• Dude can cook, if you can call preparing instant ramen in the microwave 'cooking'.

• This guy loves meat and chewing on bones, so I bet he is also a secret cannibal, but only eats his victims. Gotta get rid of the bodies somehow! He has Peter help with preparing and cooking the meat, but Damon never says where he got it. Peter knows, though, but he don't really care.

• pet names for you: Babe, Sweetie, Lovely

♡NSFW♡

• Favorite positions are you on top, and the position where you're on your stomach and he has your arm behind your back.

• He is SO loving and gentle most of the time. He just wants to make sure you're getting enough. You will cum many times before he even finishes.

• but once in a while, expect to be sore in the morning, some bruises here and there from how much he grips you.

• master of seduction right here. He will whisper in your ear the sweetest yet dirtiest stuff, maybe some erotica limerick/sonnet he found online. His voice is so smooth it makes your core tingle just by hearing it.

• his dick is pretty average, but it's not a bad thing. It gets the job done just fine and you're not complaining.

• he does have a bondage fetish. He loves to tie you to the bed and on special occasions, like your birthday, he'll tie himself up and let you do whatever you want.

• Anal? Nah. Unless you beg for it.

• dude loves meat, so... he has a dolcett fetish. (Don't know what it is? ...eh google it, I'm not your mom. But don't say I didn't warn you.) He never acts on it really [he may eat people, but he doesn't get off to it because he feels like he'd be cheating on you], but his phone and laptop has a folder with hundreds of pics/videos of dolcett porn. Sort of a guily pleasure fetish, emphasis on the pleasure.

~~~~~

~♡~Alan~♡~

• He is such a good boi. Sweetest boi in the world. Pure sugar cookie.

• he is the outdoorsy guy, hunting, fishing, camping, all that stuff. Dude lives in the woods.

• he's the one who brings home fish or game for dinner. Preps it himself in the garage. Expect to find some deer or birds hanging from the ceiling.

• he's a pro at bonfires. Knows all the different ways to burn wood.

• Cooking? He prefers to grill or cook over a fire. He sometimes indulges in Damon's choice of meats, but no one ever tells him what it is. So don't tell him. It'd break the guy...

• he is such a sweetheart. Asking if you're feeling ok, if you need any help with anything, just so considerate. Heavy follower of PDA.

• unashamed cuddler. When you two go camping, he has you in the same sleeping bag as him.

• HUGE astrology and astronomy nerd. He will talk your ear off about the star constellations and tell you your horoscope of the day and if you are compatible with him or anyone else in the group.

• pet names: Doe-Eyes, darling, honey, dear, love

♡NSFW♡

• he's more on the gentler side of things. Perfect candidate for your first time. He will comfort you if it hurts and praise you so much.

• favorite positions are where he can look at you splayed out and writhing in pleasure. Mostly missionary.

• man is a pussy eater. On bad days, he gives you puppy dog eyes and asks to eat you out. With those eyes, you can't help but say yes.

• he likes to nibble and bite. Favorite place to bite is your thighs. He can leave marks, but never breaks skin. If he does, he'll stop and patch you up.

• his cock is the smallest in the group, but not in general. It's pretty average, nothing to complain about. He's a grower, not a shower. You secretly find his cock (both erect and flaccid) adorable, but you never say that to his face.

• does he do anal? Only if you ask him to, but even then, he's hesitant. He will make sure you're prepped well.

~~~~~

~♡~Jack~♡~

• the ray of sunshine in the group. Always trying to cheer people up.

• he loves to give hugs any time, any day, any where

• he is such an 80s retro nerd. He has a collection of games and movies from that era. Favorite movies are The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Favorite arcade game is Dragon's Lair or Pac-Man.

• definitely the fashionista of the group. He loves to create outfits for you to wear, making sure the colors compliment each other. He does this for the other guys too, but some are not sure how to feel about it.

• dude is the kind of guy who would wear a nun's halloween outfit as his costume for reals and awaken some people while wearing it. He makes any outfit sexy.

• Cooking? He prefers to bake. Champion at breakfasts. Favorite thing to make is blueberry pancakes.

• Himbo. Just. Pure grade-A himbo.

♡NSFW♡

• bruh, this man will be cheery and bubbly during the day, total daddy at night. Holy shit.

• he will show you that you are his and only his. He's only sharing you with the other guys just to make you happy.

• man's got a body like Adonis. He's got a chest where he got man tiddies.

• his cock? HOLY FUCK. He's the biggest out of the group and he has to force his way inside you sometimes (this is canon, I swear, I've seen that clip). It is downright BEAUTIFUL. You swear, he is some sort of god.

• his favorite positions are 1) where you're both on your sides, him behind you, lifting your leg so he can plow you while kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings and dirty shit in your ear. And 2) that position where you're on your belly and he is behind you, raising your ass to him and he has your arm pinned behind your back.

• he is definitely heavy on the praise. He sees you as a goddess. Expect him to make you cum multiple times before he even gets inside you, just to make sure you're putty in his hands and ready for him.

• does he do anal? Fuck yeah he does. But he's very careful about it and only does it when you say it's ok.

~~~~~

~♡John♡~

• and then there's John.

• he's just a crack baby.

• sorry, John Doe stans. I just couldn't get that much on this guy.

• he's essentially the pet dog of the group. But it's fine, he's into that.

• he's pretty much a feral animal.

• is fueled by energy drinks and Doritos.

• he LOVES when Damon feeds him the special meat he's collected. He gobbles that shit up.

• dude snuggles you like a puppy. He can be cute and sweet when he wants to, don't get me wrong here. Puppies are always sweet and cute.

• hates baths. Y/N has to chain him to the tub in order to bathe him.

• usually stays in his room. He plays Call of Duty with Peter and loves to watch zombie movies. Favorite movie is Cannibal Holocaust and City of the Living Dead. Ruggero Deodato, Lucio Fulci, and George A Romero are his idols.

• Cooking? No idea how. Anything already prepared is perfect for him.

♡NSFW♡

• you into werewolf quality sex? John's your guy.

• expect tons of nail marks and bites all over you once you're done.

• man will make you bleed.

• some nights, the guys will hear you yell "CHILL THE FUCK OUT!!" from your bedroom.

• he will almost eat you alive, he's that feral.

• Does he do anal? Duh.

• favorite position is you up against the wall.

~~~~~

Yandere Quintet Dynamics

Peter & John Doe: Gaming buddies

Jack & Alan: Big bro (Jack), little bro (Alan)

Peter and Damon: Constant dick-measuring (metaphorically, of course) at first, but now partners in crime (oh they'll double-team ya). They like discussing true crime stuff, enough to where they have a podcast.

Damon & John Doe: Man (Damon) using dog (John Doe) to hide evidence.

Jack & Peter: total nerd buddies. Trivia night is horrible with them.

Jack & John Doe: kid being terrified of dogs (Jack), rabid dog (John Doe)

Alan & Peter: another big bro (Peter), little bro (Alan) dynamic.

Alan & John Doe: hunter (Alan) and his hunting dog (John Doe)

Jack & Damon: guy (Damon) is annoyed by the other guy (Jack), but secretly enjoys his company.

Damon & Alan: same deal as Damon and Jack, but Damon will kill anyone trying to hurt or be mean to Alan.

~~~~~

Aaaaand that's all she wrote! Hope you enjoyed this feast!

[finleyforevermore]

A collection of out of context quotes from Off-Book: The Improvised Musical Podcast because it is criminally underrated and more people need to know about it:

"Relax, you're at the lake-[WHEEZE]"

"My name's not Vanessa, it's Li'l Fossil!"

"Who do I gotta eat to be king of this town?"

"I'm an empath, but I'm not good at it."

"It's hard to be married to a guy that everyone respects."

"I'm going to smoke several packs of cigarettes!"

"Congratulations, you successfully stole that baby!"

"Everyone get your sweaters off."

"I was about to be inwardly sad, but outwardly brave."

"What do you mean "he's fine"? He's dead!"

"She's as stupid as that Sally Fields!"

"We're all gonna die soon."

"Buy a stupid little sack for your baby!"

"When you're looking at a microwave, that's not a microwave, it's basically dirt!"

"It's you!....say what you are!"

"When you were born, you came tumbling out."

"You can't just call upon a Ratatouille, like, a Ratatouille has to happen to you, you know?"

"Which war was it?"

"Tombathy, if I wanted a silver gear, I would have been born a poor person!"

"I don't know you anymore. I'm famous now."

"I gotta take a sip of liquid death-"

"But honestly, you know what might solve that?: patricide."

"How does a hot chocolate man have his own camera?"

"You can't stop the war that's about to begin!"

"My best friend is a 6 foot tall mouse!"

"I haven't heard you call me 'treasure' since 1992." "Yeah, that's probably when you started calling me John."

"Julia Roberts knows how to not upstage."

"Yeah, fuck you pigeon, I don't like you at all."

"Which came first? My dreams or these eggs?"

"No, it's because my father broke everything that started with K in the house one Christmas."

"No one's ever seen your face except for your wife? How did you grow up?" [....QUEUE SONG]

"I now pronunce this high school...dead."

"Stop that baby! She's headed to the stairs!"

"You wanna know the story with Santa and his marriage?"

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

They Both Just Gotta Be Dicks - a Malevolent fic

WARNING: Intermezzo spoilers

Not much surprises Kayne anymore.

A melting Arthur manages.

AO3

-------------------

This is try number six hundred and forty-eight. Or maybe forty-nine? Sure, forty-eight, and who cares, because I am absolutely sure it does not matter at all.

Who would even bother counting? What would be the point?

There isn’t a point, and that is the fucking point.

Yeah, yeah, you two, get your morning started; share the coffee, drop the sugar (seen this eighteen thousand fucking times and how’s that for counting), and here comes the mail courier! 

This part always goes fun. Sometimes Parker dies right away; sometimes there’s a Battle For Supremacy! in which proto-John wins every time and then Parker dies. Sometimes Arthur gets killed in the process, and proto-John gets a maximum of sixty-eight seconds (I did count that) of life outside the Dark World before oopsie-whoopsie can’t kill your host and he goes screaming back. Sometimes—

A man comes out of the shadows (did I see that right?) wearing an absolutely filthy anachronistic hoodie and jeans for a guy twice his size, fucking cold-cocks the mail courier over the head, dumps his bag (yes, I’m just standing here staring, and who wouldn’t), finds proto-John’s book (The fuck! Proto-John’s book!), and then steps back into the shadows and is gone.

Well, I…

I can’t help laughing, screaming it, because what the actual hell was that? I’ve done this five million and eighty-nine times and I have never seen that before!

The door opens, and the detective besties are fussing over the mail courier, but they no longer matter because the book is gone. Arthur’s just not as effective without his little friend.

Silly weird filthy criminal. Did you really think you could slip through shadows and I couldn’t follow?

#

So he’s pretty good with portals! Nice! Took us all the way to the woods outside Innsmouth (fucking nasty place), and breathing like he’s fucking dying, he goes loping through the woods, unconcerned about shoggoths or any other dreadful thing, clutching that book like it’s everything he’s ever wanted, tripping over his boots, which are also too fucking big, and I just gotta know.

I gotta know… and I don’t! Do you know how rare that is?

He’s done something to himself, this gasping-shambling-winner-of a human, and I can’t see his thoughts. Ooh, ooh, ooh, I’m excited enough not to just explode him and take the fucking book back.

He stops. Drops to his knees. Holds the book out. Is clearly about to open the fucker.

Nope, sorry, proto-John spoken for. “Yyyyyyallo.”

He doesn’t jump. Goes real still. “I knew you’d be here,” says Arthur Lester who sounds like somebody put him through a meat grinder and then stuffed him into sausage casing and then smoked him halfway and then popped him in a microwave without poking holes so he blew up in there and then scraped him out and squished him back together in the shape of a man.

Gotta admit, I didn’t see all this coming! “That’s a neat trick,” I say, walking around to the front. “How’d you know?”

That sure is Arthur Lester looking up at me, though he’s missing teeth, and you could just slice meat on those cheekbones. “Because that’s how lucky I am.”

Oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, boy. “You must be lucky, Artie, because I don’t know you! How about that? Looks like somebody sure put you through the wringer, though!” Closer, kneeling down, making eye-contact.

His eyes are that funky color of repeated and unaddressed subconjunctival hemorrhage. He’s just breathing like a bull, clutching that book, looking like he wants to bite me.

“You can see!” I tsk. “That just isn’t fair, is it? We should fix that.”

And he says, “I know where your fucking black stone is, you fucking monster,” and just like that, it stops being funny.

I may not know him (conundrum!) but he does know me, and as the smile slides off my face, he starts to shake, so he doesknow me well enough to know he’s in trouble.

“Do you?” I say, high and light and kind of tight. “Do you? Do you? Because that’s important information, Artie, that I would like to have right now! You wouldn’t go claiming something like that if it wasn’t true, would you? Where is it? On you? Did you swallow it, Artie? Am I gonna have to go digging for gold?”

And he says something else he shouldn’t know at all! “It’s on Earth one-two-four-nine aspect B8, you filthy dickhole.”

Yeah, sooooo… this just got weird? “How’d you know that, Artie?” I say, calm, soft, soothing. “That’s not a designation you ought to know.”

“Because you told me, or part of you. The one you fucking killed,” he snarls, spitting, and his hood slips back.

Oh, that ain’t right. Most of his hair is gone. He looks kinda cancerous, definitely grody, really not socially reassuring. I can’t read his mind, but I can peek at other things, and boy-howdy. “Hey, you’re gonna die, Artie!” I say with great cheer.

“I know.” He clutches the book. “It’s okay now.”

“No, I don’t really think it is, Artie, in fact, I’m getting the idea you don’t really understand the stakes here—”

“I know you promised him to me if I got your fucking stone!” Arthur just screams at me, and there’s blood with bile in it flying out of his throat   and that just tastes deeee-lightful. “I got it! I had it! You were supposed to give him back!”

Oh. I tap my chin.

Behind us, a couple of roaming shoggoths spot us, feel me, and run yipping away into the woods. Yeah, yeah.

“I get it,” I say. “You were dealing with another me. Well, good news! I killed them all.”

“I know!” He screams it, and his voice cracks, and he is sobbing all over the book and himself and there’s blood and snot everywhere. 

“You’re so juicy,” I tell him.

“You killed him before he could do it,” Arthur says in that tiny voice he gets when he’s all they won and I can’t and all that weakling bullshit. 

“So… you actually got the black stone?” I say. “Without John.”

“No. With him.” Such a brittle tone! But at least that detail is consistent. “Then we weren’t going to give it to him. He was going to wake the Dreamer.”

Pfft. Well, I know which one of me that was, and good riddance. “That old chestnut?”

“We weren’t going to do it, and he took John, and… and I…”

“Were you gonna trade, Artie?” I all but sing at him. “Trade John for waking the Dreamer and ending everything including John?”

“No,” he says, spraying more blood. “We were going to trick him. But then you ki… you… you showed up and you… you…”

“I killed him!” I remember that one. Suicidal version of me? No, thanks. “I ch-ch-chopped him to bits, and then I stewed the bits, and then I ground him into meat and I ate the whole thing!” And I laugh.

He doesn’t laugh. Artie never does have a good sense of humor.

“Just let me have this,” he suddenly says. “You don’t know what I’ve done to get him. Let me have him, and I’ll tell you where the fucking stone is.”

“Or I could just torture you for it,” I say with a shrug.

“Go the fuck ahead. There’s nothing you could use anymore, and if you do, you won’t know the trick we did. You’ll lose. Even if you get your stone, you’ll lose, because it won’t be the whole fucking thing.”

I laugh again because eh? “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I open this book. I take John into myself. You get what you need.”

“Or I just take the book, and take what I need, and we’re done!”

His laugh is just crazy, grating, crackling delicious, and I lock it away in my head for future use. “You can’t.”

That’s fucking insulting, so I reach to pluck out his defiant little eyeballs.

I…

I missed?

I stare at my hand, outstretched, and at him. “Huh?” I say, as one does.

“You can’t,” he says. “The trade. I get John.”

“Not your John. Not even a John yet,” I point out.

“He will be. I’ll tell him who he is. It’ll be fine. It’s going to be fine.” He’s rocking back and forth now. “All of it will be fine.”

Wow. “You’re a special kind of crazy, ain’tcha?” I try again. I… miss again? I have no idea how that’s happening. I could just cook his cells and do it that way, but I’m so curious! “Okay, this is pretty neat, and all,” I say. “But that book is due elsewhere right now? I mean, we’re already off schedule, and also, my guy, you’ve missed an obvious out. I can just take you with me and make you show me the stone.”

That laugh, Artie, wow! “No, you can’t,” he says all wetly. “Because if I cross another world-boundary, or even step through time at any pace other than normal, I will fucking die.”

I whip out some pince-nez (like you do) and pop them on to try to see him clearly.

Still can’t see his thoughts. Can see a whole lot else. He was not lying. “Oh, Artie, what’d you do to yourself?” I say, already laughing, because this guy is worn so fucking thin that I think rain would tear him apart.

“I hunted,” he says. “I found a way. And I found my way here.”

“You know, most humans who get into magic of this kind do not generally suffer organ jello-ification? Seriously, what’d you do?”

“I only needed to get here,” he says, and his voice is soft, and he strokes the book cover, and wow, Artie, wow.

“Buddy. Pal. You’re that frail, you can’t take him inside you.”

“I know.”

“I mean he’s gonna kill you. At once. Not even on purpose.”

“I know.”

“You’re gonna pop like a cheap condom.”

“I know.” (He would.) “And if you let me, you’ll get what you need.”

“How in fuck will that get me what I—” And all at once, I get it. My laugh is almost as crazy as his. “What’d you do, Artie?”

“I put it here,” he says, pointing to the most egregious bald-spot, the most cancer-looking area. “Yes. I did. You can’t touch me… and you need this piece. If you don’t get it, your stone won’t work for whatever the fuck you’re trying to use it for.”

And it’s so daring and so wild and so stupid? Not like I can’t kill just him and find it in the corpse? “Grammatically heinous, my boy!” I say, affecting a Brigadier General for a moment. “Seriously, though, you shoved part of my stone into your skull?” 

“I do this. I tell you where. You let me have this.”

“This… proto-John.”

“He’s in there.” He curls over the book. “And I’ll make sure he knows… he knows everything.”

“He’ll die with you.”

“With.”

Oh, Artie, Artie, Artie. “You know that doesn’t work? He wouldn’t be tied to you after death.”

“I know. I made sure he would,” he  snarls like some snarly thing, and that’s when I decide to let him do it.

He’s tried so hard, and he’s got information I want, and just look at him! Obsessed! Gross! Melting! How in fuck will proto-John even respond to this? Oh, I missed you so much that I fucking killed us both and bound us somehow in the Dark World? Yeah, that’ll go over great.

He’s still trying to sell me. 

“Let me. You’ll get what you want.”

Oh, fuck, this is gonna be a ride. “He’s not gonna thank you.”

“I don’t care.”

“You know what? You’ve surprised me, Artie. That’s worth a cup of coffee. Go ahead. Steal your John, then trap him after death. I’ll take the li’l stone-bit when you’re gone, and all will be right with the world.”

And he tells me where it is. What year, exactly. What landmass. Even what region. He can’t get closer than that, but that’s okay. That’s okay.

It’s one of many places those three idiots found. I would’ve gotten there eventually, I tell myself, but let’s be real here: Artie just saved me a whole bunch of pointless Arthur-wasting. I know where to send the good ones now. You know. The ones that don’t get flushed.

He’s not even aware I’m here anymore, I think. Cradling that damn book. Does he even remember he had a daughter? I fucking’ swear, this guy… “Hope Faroe likes your new add-on.”

He doesn’t answer me. Wow, Artie. Wow.

He opens the book.

I’ve seen this a thousand times. That blast of power, that wildness of desperate fire, that light reaching for him like a drowning man for a swimming one and pulling them both under.

He chokes. His eyes go from bloodshot blue to bloodshot gold. “John,” he sobs.

Then he pops like a ripe cherry. Good spread, too! Those bone-bits ain’t never coming out of those trees.

Honestly surprised he lasted that long, given the mess he was. How in fuck did he even get that way? It must have taken years. “Oh, oh, I’ve got chills. Years of looking for John? Of ensuring you’d go to the Dark World together? Ahahaha! Ridiculous! Only you, Artie, only you… oh, yeah, you’re dead, you can’t hear me.” I rummage around in the mess.

Know what’s annoying? I can’t see the sliver.

Fuck.

#

It takes me a month to gather all the goo (thanks a ton, Artie), trick someone into touching the gray stone, and then getting them to tell me where the sliver is, and then I can finally fucking touch it.

Sort of.

Gather it, we’ll say.

Fuck. It’s not that small. Things would definitely not have gone right if this were missing. I don’t even know how I’m going to repair the damned thing, but at least I have the sliver.

Thanks. A lot. Artie.

At least I know where to go.

Gotta go find me a new Arthur. This one is no longer interesting. Without a John—proto or not—it won’t fucking work, as I’ve learned through trial and tribulation, though not my own.

I could just kill this now-pointless-Arthur, but eh… I don’t care anymore. His lucky day.

Before I go alternate-Artie-hunting, though, I just have to go take a peek into the land of the dead.

Well, well, well… whaddaya know. It worked. They’re together.

And shouting at each other. Wow, that is some conflict! Figures that even when dead, even after all Arthur did to pull this off, they both just gotta be dicks.

Music to my ears.

[weepingguitar1968]

The Who x You - Breakfast went wrong...

It was 6:30 in the morning and you were hungry, so you went to the kitchen.

You noticed someone there... he looked like a stranger.

But you decided to go over and make sure... Wait... it was John.

"What are you doing?". At that moment the spoon fell out of his hand.

"JESUS CHRIST" he looked seriously scared. It's the first time you've seen him like this...You noticed that he was mixing cereal with... jelly.

“I understand that you like drinking with Keith, Pete and Roger, but to confuse jelly with milk?" You were surprised even though you had seen worse things.

For example, a few days ago you saw Moonie trying to kill Roger with a plastic knife.

With a fucking plastic knife.

You thought nothing would surprise you. By the time.

"Why are you doing that?" you asked and John showed you where to sit.

"Let me start with the fact that after the last drinking, Keith threw up on my bass. And he left the flakes in the night, and as revenge I wanted to drown them in jelly."

He explained and you laughed. "and I seriously thought Keith was the master of revenge".

"Well, now I will take this title away from him."

He smiled and finished what he started. Suddenly Roger entered the kitchen. Half asleep.

"Hey. Did you sleep?" you asked Roger, and he almost fell to the floor.

You belayed him until he sat down at the small table. "I didn't ask anything..." you said.

"he couldn't sleep. He was afraid that Moonie would come to him again with that plastic knife" John said, placing the bowl next to the microwave.

Roger practically fell asleep at the table. You rubbed Roger's back a little. "Poor Roger... We have to start locking Keith in his room at night. It'll be safer that way."

"Roger, I've got my revenge on that little bastard for trying to stab you with a plastic knife.".

"what have you done?" the singer asked, then you replied, "he mixed Moonie's cereal with the jelly."

Roger, less sleepy, got up to look at the bowl. "Not bad, buddy. This fucker will get you too." Roger stated, and the bassist replied, keeping his face calm, "He won't get me if we lock him in his room at night."

And at that moment Pete walked into the kitchen. He didn't look tired. He functioned normally, did not drink anything and slept at night.

He took the box of cereal and tried to pour it into a separate bowl, which none of the three of you noticed.

He wanted to pour in the cereal.

He poured out the laxative pills...

"Hahaha... very funny. Why did you want to poison me? He asks you, squinting his eyes slightly. "Oh god. It was for Keith. I wanted to take revenge on him. Leave it and just sit down. We are waiting for him."

Pete sat down, talking with you about Moonie. "There's even a key box with the key to his room," said Pete, slowly understanding the seriousness of the situation.

What if Moonie does something worse?

Nobody knew that.

John stood there, pretending to be doing something at the microwave. That he's warming food or something.

And finally our wonderful drummer came, full of joy of life.

"Good morning everyone!" Moon said happily. You and Roger looked at him displeasedly.

After all, it's all his fault.

Keith walked over to the counter and looked into his bowl. He acted shocked for a moment.

But then he did what what no one expected.

He walked up to John and pulled his ass pants down with great force.

John screamed, kicked Moonie in the balls, pulled his pants up and then screamed again, "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?".

"Sorry, but you won't take away my title of best joker"

Roger, you and Pete almost fell off your chairs laughing.

Moonie took the box of cereal tested by then unaware Pete. He poured it into the second bowl.

Plan B.

Moonie starts chasing John around the house, you take one of the laxative pills and put it in Moonie's water bottle in his room.

You've been waiting for quite a long time. After 3 minutes it dissolved. Now you just shake, you leave his room, you signal to John, and John throws Keith over his shoulder and pushes him into the room, locking it.

You and John give each other a high five and head to the kitchen.

Roger and Pete were to secure/remove all sharp items. So that the situation with Roger doesn't happen again. When everything was secured, you could let Moonie go.

John stood with his ass against the table, Roger went to put on something normal, Pete was sitting in the bathroom, and you were talking to John.

Keith took ketchup from the table and poured baking soda there.

He shook it and left it on the table.

And he walked happily towards his room.

A moment later, you made everyone (except Mooni) fries. You took ketchup, unaware of anything, and poured it on everyone. John, Pete, Roger and yourself.

Keith started laughing at his satanic act.

Roger got up and went to Moonie's room. ''Idiot, look what you did''

Moonie laughed even more. Roger kicked him hard in the shin, leaving Moonie's room happy :)

Moonie: *screaming* I'M GOING TO SHIT.

[yukkue]

Jason: Which one of you was gonna tell me tea tastes different if you put it in hot water?

Everyone: ....

Lamar: Y-you've been putting it in cold water??

Marla: Jason. Answer the question, Jason.

Jason: Well, yeah, for the longest time I thought people only put in hot water to speed up the tea-ification process. Didn't realize there was an actual reason.

Carlton: You don't have the patience to boil it in the microwave for three minutes?!

Marla: Why are you. Putting it in the microwave. To boil it.

Carlton: You think I have the patience to boil water on the stove??

Charlie: It takes! Less than a minute!

John: Bro, is your stove powered by the fucking sun?

Charlie: I don't know!

Marla: HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE FOR YOU TO BOIL A CUP OF WATER ON THE STOVE?

Carlton: LIKE SEVEN MINUTES!

Jessica: Just stick the mug on top of the stove on medium heat and it boils in like, two minutes! Less than that if you use a saucepan.

Elizabeth: You're sticking your mug on top of the stove? ON MEDIUM HEAT?

Michael: Your stove is enchanted.

Jen: Every single person here is a fucking lunatic.

Sammy: Do none of you own a god damn stove?!

💀💀 what is going on

When I was like seven I would just use the hot water from the sink not boiling it but it was warm and put a tea bag in it

[dancing-to-architecture]

20 - ZZ Top - Eliminator (1983)

Ah, ZZ Top. The Houston blues-rock band known for spinning fuzzy guitars and big ass beards, except for the one guy who's last name was actually "Beard".

Having existed in America during the 80s and 90s (and having lived in Houston itself for a year and half) of course i know their hits (and i can see a few here) but I'm kinda excited to hear the deeper cuts.

Speaking of ZZ Top's deeper cuts: i got to see these guys live at Bonnaroo, but i don't think they quite got the point of Bonnaroo. Typically, if you're there, you're playing the hits. The Big Numbers. The ones you know everybody there is gonna be able to sing along to.

Over the course of 45 minutes, they didn't play a single song i could recognize.

I don't have an ounce of shame in saying that yeah, I left that set early and went to a different stage to watch The XX right as they started playing Intro.

Easily one of the better calls i made at that festival.

•Gimme All Your Lovin'-

Such a simple but effective drum beat. No frills but it doesn't need 'em.

Aggressively horny lyrics, but it feels almost campy with how straight they're delivered.

"If i blow my top, will you let it go to your head?" At the risk of sounding like John Waters for a moment, i think the world needs more barely-disguised lyrics about getting a blowjob, especially these days where it really seems like everybody's horny but nobody fucks.

"You got to pack it up, work it like a new boy should." Happy pride month, y'all.

•Got Me Under Pressure-

This girl sounds FUN AS HELL. I'm reminded of Sheryl Crow here: "are you strong enough to be my man?" (Yeah i know that's not what that song is about but play with me in the space here.)

•Sharp Dressed Man-

1000% the first song that comes to my mind when i hear "ZZ Top".

Also 1000 is likely the number of times I've heard this song in my 38ish years on this rock.

That riff still kicks all kinds of ass though.

Audience participation section: which movie's "main guy wearing a bunch of different suits for 5 seconds each" changing-room montage do YOU think of when you hear this?

(Correct answer: it's literally the background song for every. single. one. since this album came out.)

Also white gloves and looking for love...that's... certainly a look.

•I Need You Tonight-

I fucking love this song!

Oh wait, shit, no I'm thinking of INXS.

Jokes aside, i really like the echoing guitar tone.

Pretty solid bluesy "i miss my woman" song. If this album wasn't already stacked, I'd say this could have been a single.

And that solo, though!

•I Got The Six-

Before this one started, i was wondering what the six was referencing. A six pack of beer? I got your back? HAHAHAHA NOPE.

"I got the six, gimme your nine!"

Again, more songs about blowjobs! Sixty-nining, even!

And also, if you're attracted to women and you don't/won't eat pussy, know that i have lost some respect for you.

Horny as hell song, but it gets a nod of overall approval especially since the end is kinda hilarious.

•Legs-

ATTENTION META: 40 years ago, the bearded ones taught us all about the importance of having Legs and knowing how to use them. Y'all had no fuckin excuse for your floating torso mananangal-wannabe bullshit.

This song goes so fucking hard. At least 35% harder than a song about legs should go. I hate that it fades out during the solo, though. Let that man cook!

•Thug-

I know, I KNOW this album came out at least a decade before the show did, but that slap bass just feels Seinfeld-y. Funky, but Seinfeld-y.

Also, calendar check: June 21 is Thug Day, i guess. Remember to keep your machine guns and money secure, and bust your friends out of jail!

•TV Dinners-

Know what? I can appreciate that Billy and/or Dusty sings about processed microwaved slop with the same exact amount of gusto and dedication that he does about the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

Otherwise it's basically a novelty song, imo. I can't believe it was a single.

•Dirty Dog-

Ah, the flip side of aggressively horny: the creepy/gross/misogynist angle. God forbid a woman does anything.

Also this really sounds like a ZZ Top b-side. It literally sounds like 4 of their other songs put in a blender for a while.

•If I Could Only Flag Her Down-

The misogyny continues and deepens.

In lieu of a review for this song, here's a lyric:

"I just want to crash her/

I just want to trash her."

And here's the vomiting emoji 20 times:

🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮

•Bad Girl-

"Praise kinks DNI": the song. I feel like i need a shower after hearing this.

Well, the second half of the album sucks some real shit, but Legs is still a banger. It's pretty easy to see why the deep cuts stay deep, though.

And, like many, many albums I've heard before: after the first 5 or so songs, it's just time to put on a new album.

Favorite Track: Gimme All Your Lovin'. 100%.

Least Favorite Track: If I Could Only Flag Her Down. I'll spare you another 20 vomit emojis.

[thelovelybitten]

vera's first watch of south park - season one

okay since stendy has taken over my life, I wanted to watch all 26 seasons of south park just for fun (and get more depth on the characters), so here's a little blurb on how season 1 went.

EPISODE 1:

oh my god the first episode is the fucking anal probe... the one clip I saw on tiktok disturbed me a little but that's the vulgarity of it all

KICK THE BABY

YOU'RE TELLING ME SINCE THE FIRST EPISODE STENDY WAS MENTIONED ?!?!?@?#??#! THE LITTLE LOVEY DOVEY STAN IS IN THE FIRST EPISODE ?????? DECEASED

STAN THROWS UP WHEN HE SEES HER WHAT this is new knowledge to ME it's so gross yet so cute LMAO

wendy giving him the note and the meeting at the pond... KYLE WAS IN HIS ANGRY ARC

my trio doing the damn thing stendyle FOREVER !!

"when do I get to make sweet love?" STAN RELAXXXX

kyle popping the FUCK OFF at the aliens as he should

I'm crying at stendy he vomits on her and her immediate reaction is "LOOK, A FRENCH FRY?" please they are so CUTE

EPISODE 2:

OH WAIT I KNOW THIS ONE IT'S THE EPISODE WHERE WENDY AND CARTMAN FIGHT FOR THE WINNER OF THE PAPER WRITING CONTEST

it's the way I know exactly what kenny is talking abt PLEASE

"hey, stop defending your little girlfriend for writing about some stupid fish" SO THEY'RE DATING NOW??????? stendy has been canon since the beginning?!@?!?#?$ HOW ARE THEY NOT POPULAR IN THE FANDOM

STAN DEFENDING WENDY <3

CLYDE AND BEBE OMG THEY ARE SO CUTE GSJSKBKG

uhm... i don't know how to feel abt this racist stuff, wouldn't fly in this modern-day timeline it's uncomfortable to watch tbh. Will have to get used to it

miss wendy GIRL DON'T GET CAUGHT

omg the TikTok MEME THAT MADE ME FALL IN LOVE W THEM GDNGKJNSNGJKGNKNK

the quote for my otp tag: I can't do it alone

stan in his simp era as HE SHOULD

stan and wendy in their duo arc they slayed

DOES KENNY GET KILLED IN EVERY EPISODE ???? that makes me sad

EPISODE 3:

it's stan being soft with animals for me <3 he's so SWEET my fave boy

kenny chugging gasoline???? my unhinged son

kenny popping AWF killing things

stan wanting to be a man like kenny BABY BOY YOU ARE PERFECT THE WAY YOU ARE SBGKJBS

so they do kill kenny in every episode.... weird dunk

chef making me CRINGE PLEASE

stan killing Scuzzlebutt iconic

EPISODE 4:

SPARKY is STAN'S DOG SJNKGSKNSK SO CUTE

wait is this is where the hc of stan being the high school quarterback comes from ??? so iconic

omg INFLATE STAN'S EGO PLEASE very king shit of him

as a bisexual... this is a little much :l

sensitive but i'll get over it

kyle filling for stan so style of them

why are Y'ALL KILLIN KENNY I hate it here

stan slowly becoming an ALLY

stan carrying the show as he fucking should that's my mf son right there

EPISODE 5:

not STAN GETTING BEAT BY SHELLY??? Is that her name??? Idk his big sister i don’t want a HAIR on his head touched

Kyle baby boy i love you but WHERE THE FUCK DID U GET AN ELEPHANT

Oh so Kyle’s the smartest kid at school ugh i love my brainiac son u EAT THESE BITCHES upppppp

Mr. Garrison common L

Shelly is AWFUL OMG

I love how stan gets launched and Kyle is just. Hey bestie we going to do this shit u better come

Cartman & fluffy is very wholesome (very rare that i like cartman, don’t count on it)

DON’T POKE STAN

Oh y’all be cloning stan ihy

Oh my god u can’t be serious is this actually gonna happen SKBSBGJS

Elton John ate

Mutant!Stan is a freak of nature :/

WHEN KENNY WENT IN THE MICROWAVE I WHEEZED HE’S SO CUTE LMAOO

Shelly redeemed herself for half a second and now she’s back on my hit list of “characters i cannot trust with Stanley Marsh”

EPISODE 6:

Oh lord we in for a wild one aren’t we

Not Stan’s grandpa wanting to unalive :(

KYLE AND IKE MY FAVOURITE SILBLINGSSSSS they’re so cute watching tv

I'm w kyle's mom on this, TF is terrance & Philip it's LAME

kyle's mom snitching kinda iconic tho

KENNY NOT THE EXPLOSIVE DIARRHEA pls

EYE. STAN pls not this question

KYLE DON'T FEED THIS IDEA NGJKSNGSLGD

EPISODE 7:

kenny in his zombie era

OMG STAN AS RAGGEDY ANNE OMG

omg wendy as chewbacca

not wendy roasting stan pls they're chaotic

common cartman L with his costume

kenny falling to pieces fdsjngnsdkgjks

kyle being the solar system HOW WHOLESOME

wenSLAY AS THE WINNER AS SHE SHOULD

NOT THEM ALL SHAMING STAN

stendy's first fight :((((((((

CLYDE DON'T EAT BEBE

stan eating cartman up that's my fucking son

wendy being a good samaritan

shit stendy fight part two

NO WENDY GETS ZOMBIEFIED FJNDKJNFSDKNSK

is this a reference to the triple K ??? wtf this is fucked

chef W this ep pls kick cartman's ass

candy >>>>> everything else

period Michael Jackson ref

NO DON'T KILL WENDY STANLEY FUCKING DON'T YOU LOVE HER

"don't worry babe, everything is gonna be okay" KILL ME SJKBGJBKGSBK THEY ARE SO CUTE

stan this does not excuse u for wanting wendy to die tho... not proud of u

EPISODE 8:

omg I saw a bit of this on tiktok too

tHE AMOUNT OF CHESSY POOFS RELAX

kyle smelling kenny jbwejgbjkgbjkg please

wendy <3 my angel baby cake eat cartman up

the fuck did I just watch... whack ass turkeys

starvin' marvin ??? tf

'bad starvin' marvin THAT'S A BAD STARVIN' MARVIN'

OMG NOT THEM GRABBING CARTMAN DSBSDGBKJGDSBDSBK so slay marvin so slay

cartman finding the motherload of snacks alr I'll give the W

kenny doesn't deserve this shit save my mf son

EPISODE 9:

omg is this a CHRISTMAS SPECIAL?!?!??!?! OMG SO CUTE

stan IN HIS NARRATOR ARC

WENDY AS VIRGIN MARY BNJFJKFDNJDNJ I'M DEAD

KYLE DOING THE DAMN THING

KENNY THE ANGEL <33333333

omg stan and wendy catching snowflakes on their tongues :')))))) that's wholesome as FUCK

kyle's musical number !!!!!! where's the album sir ??? the vocals are FIRE

NO NOT IKE ON FIRE

MR.HANKEY IS A PIECE OF LITERAL SHIT....

CARTMAN FINDING A VIBRATOR... PLS

this is where ‘Kyle’s mom’s a bitch’ originates ?? not gonna lie cartman ate that tbh

MR MACKEY <3 m’kay man reigns supreme

not y’all setting up Kenny :/

oh he’s okay thank god

KENNY SPINNING AT THE BEGINNING OF THE PLAY DFNJNJDVFKVDJFKNKNJ HE IS BABIE

stendy in three frames it must be so

something…feels…unfinished…. Y’all rly gonna kill my son before the end of the episode FUCK YALL FR

I manifested Kenny not dying period

EPISODE 10:

it’s cartman’s bday ok this is gonna be FUCKING WHACK

Damien a spawn of Satan fr

Kenny the platypus ! <3

not satan being real :/

Mr mackey slayage AGAIN <3

common cartman L DON'T TOUCH MY SON KYLE JSJKGKJBKJSG

EPISODE 11:

god my throat hurts so bad KMS

STENDY INTERACTION I'M WINNING

wendy being wholesome and cartman being an ass... weird dunk

stan at least being supportive

OMG WAIT THIS IS THE EP WHERE WENDY IS IN HER PSYCHO ERA BC STAN IS A SIMP :'(

omg the main four are in their simp era

NOT STAN PUKING THE BETRAYAL

wendy :((((( stan is DELUSIONAL DW DW

stanley u SHUT UR DAMN MOUTH

wendy being sad is NOT MY FAVE

I love wendy in her jealous era flame this bitch

NO NOT THE STENDY FLASHBACKS GDJBBJKHDGBJKGDBJKDHBJK KMS

wait they are all of him vomiting LMAOOOOO

Wendy crying is my weakness

GOD DAMN IT i knew SHE WOULD ASK STAN TO DO SOMETHING FOR HER FUCKING BITCHHHH

“DON’T FUCK WITH ME.” WENSLAY AS USUAL. When is she not an icon

Gives miss Ellen a dead animal i love her so much

Jesus Stan being an idiot >:( i love my son but he’s stupid

OMG WENDY IS SO TRUE FOR HER

WAIT MISS ELLEN IS A LESBIAN OKAY A SLAY

Stan…. Ur not a lesbian pls

The BIRKENSTOCKS NDFSNKSFK

Mr.garrison got RIZZ

Bebe & Wendy my fave duo they besties for the resties

WENDY IN HER SANDRA DEE ARC I REPEAT WENDY IS IN HER SANDRA DEE ARC

I am obsessed w this omg

NO NOT MISS ELLEN COMING IN THE SAME OUTFIT this is CRUEL

Bro miss Ellen on my hit list she rizzing up my son and ruining my ship FUCK AWF

Um ???? WE JUST NOT GONNA TALK ABT WENDY’S GMA UNALIVING???? SO TRAUMATIZING FOR LIL WENDY

NO WENDY DON’T GIVE UPPPP

Wendy STOP IT I’M SOBBING i love how selfless she is but it’s also a con

???? NOT THE IRAQI AFTER MISS ELLEN

Stendy reigns again period

WENDY AND BEBE SLAYED

Aw my psycho children i love them <3

EPISODE 12:

KYLE GETTING THE CLOUT as he should <3

Barbra get ur hands off Kyle and don’t yell at stan >:(

Not cartman breaking into kyle’s house ur weird

Lol them just hanging there… weird

The Japanese i love it

Barbra destroying the town ew

Literally wtf is this ep

I’m very lost

Ike AT THE END FDDJJCNDJDJ

EPISODE 13?:

CARTMAN’S TEA PARTY ok this is wholesome

Cartman just wants to know who his dad is aw :’( big relate

My fave kids putting their video of cartman on AFV sjdsncdj

GO KART KENNY :’(

WAIT ONLY THIRTEEN EPS? WERK IG

I made it boys woo thanks for reading this far have a cookie

[micahweissberg]

closed starter for @quinweisz micah's room @ the weaver inn, early evening.

‎ ‎ "make yourself comfortable." plopping down on one of the twin beds (the other formerly occupied by ravi before he had to fly back to new york, leaving micah with this six-foot-two shaped hole in his heart), he waves flippantly around the room for quin to peruse as she pleases.

room 109 is small, almost cozy, if you squint at it at the right light. the stick-on mint green wallpaper with chocolate brown trimmings reminds micah of his third favorite ice cream, right behind cherry and two spots after pistachio. the curtains are just the right amount of sheer to provide some semblance of privacy while letting his imagination run amuck, sleeping roadside on the first floor and, unfortunately, growing up watching cinemax late into the night. the management has also graciously provided each room with an electric water kettle good for three small cups of tea (he hates instant coffee and he never has the patience to wait for the store-bought drip kind to finish, well... dripping) though never stays warm enough to last for the next two cups. sitting right next to it on the sink is the microwave, good for kraft meals and top ramen, taking micah back to college when ravi had to do that exchange program in australia for a month. and there's a tv— a wall-mounted china-brand smart tv that at least has netflix, or... netflix from the last person who'd checked in before him. sorry, randy, for fucking up your algorithm because you watched love island usa...

the room is really best suited for a pair of travelers just passing through, not a thirty-year old unemployed comedian who has every resource possible to not be a thirty-year old unemployed comedian at the risk of romanticizing the plight of thirty-year old unemployed comedians everywhere.

or his ex-con lady friend, for that matter, but she lives in the neighborhood so does that count?

he's sprawled on the bed now, lazily scrolling through randy's netflix. randy seems to have taken a new interest in true crime documentaries. on john gotti, to be specific. micah smiles. "so, where you workin' these days?"

[casspurrjoybell-17]

Heart’s Choice - Chapter 41 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Carlos Martinez

The drive home passes in silence, except for the sounds of the vehicle, the dogs panting in the back seat and the two times I have to remind John to keep his eyes on the road when they stray to me and linger too long.

He's not a music guy, at least in the car, preferring the quiet and his own thoughts over external distraction.

I'm the opposite, I need something to listen to besides the voice in my head.

If we ever go on a long road trip together, we'll have to reach a compromise.

When we arrive, I put the dogs in the back yard to run off some energy while John gets settled.

Inside, I find him in the kitchen, cooking a steak and a packet of instant mashed potatoes.

I look over his shoulder at the meat sizzling in the pan.

"When you said you were hungry, this isn't what I thought you meant," I say.

He flips the steak to sear the other side.

"It wasn't. This is for you."

"Me?" I frown, perplexed.

"I appreciate the gesture but you don't have to make me dinner first. I think we're past that stage," I add, slipping my arms around his waist.

Undeterred, he transfers the steak to a wooden serving board and turns off the stove.

Only then does he face me, resting his hands on my hips.

"When was the last time you ate?"

I laugh.

"You sound like your ex-wife."

"I'm serious. When?"

"I don't recall, your honor," I tease, rolling my eyes.

When he doesn't even blink, I relent.

"I had pizza with Becky."

"When?" he presses again.

I huff in annoyance, then I do the math and wince.

"Um... Wednesday?"

"And today is Friday."

"I'm aware of that."

Unamused, he releases me and resumes his culinary exercise, mixing the box of powdered potatoes with boiling water and reconstituting them into edible form.

The microwave pings and he extracts a bowl of steamed vegetables.

"I know how it is, Carlos," he says as he transfers the vegetables, steak and instant potatoes to a plate.

"You might not feel hungry very often but your body still needs nourishment. You look like that guy from The Machinist, if he'd been played by a hot Latino."

"You think I'm hot?"

"I think you're too skinny."

He holds out the plate to me.

Annoyed, I refuse to take it.

"What if this is just how I look now?"

Sighing, he steps around me and sets the plate on the table, laying out a napkin, knife and fork as well.

"But it's not," he argues.

"This is how you look when you eat one meal a week. Believe me, I know."

I stare at his back, unsure exactly how I feel or should feel and why.

Then, as he carefully lifts a pair of crystal glasses down from a shelf, sets them on the counter, opens the liquor cabinet and asks...

"What will you have?"

I understand.

He's showing me he's in control, all right, not of me but of himself.

David's worst fear was that John would turn into a bloodthirsty monster and kill me, unable to help himself but here he is, making me dinner and asking what I'd like to drink and showing no sign no outward sign, anyway that he wants to tear my clothes off, fuck me senseless and drink my blood.

Which, hopefully, is what he has planned for desert.

Meanwhile, though, John is communicating, in his own stoic, non-verbal way, that while he might act the part of Alpha, I hold the reins.

I realize he's still waiting for my reply.

"Oh, uh... I'll have what you're having," I say, as he pours himself a generous glass of scotch.

He fills my glass as well and joins me at the table.

"How's that work, anyway?" I ask as he sips his drink.

"Vampires and alcohol."

He examines the crystal tumbler in his hand and lifts a muscled shoulder in a shrug.

"Tastes the same. Doesn't affect me, otherwise. I metabolize it too fast."

"Can you eat food?"

"If I wanted to but I wouldn't get anything out of it except some indigestion. My body would still break it down but can't extract energy from it anymore."

"But it would still... er... come out the other end?"

Amusement curls his lips in a lopsided smile.

"Eventually. Is this really the first conversation we're having?"

I look down at my food.

I'm still not hungry but John made it for me and he's probably right about needing to eat, so I pick up my knife and fork and slice the meat into small bites.

It's tender and red in the center and my appetite stirs at last.

"So, what happened with the Council?" I ask, transferring a forkful to my mouth.

As soon as the flavor hits my tongue, the hunger I haven't felt in days seizes my stomach in a vice grip.

I barely keep myself from wolfing down the whole steak and force myself to chew slowly while John speaks.

"Lots of tests and questioning," John says.

"I was basically on trial for my life, proving my existence wouldn't jeopardize the rest of vampire kind. David says I was never in real danger, that he wouldn't have let me come to harm but the only thing he was shielding me from was the truth. It came down to a vote. I wasn't present but I know it must have been close. I've never seen David betray a hint of fear but when he came out of that chamber, I could smell it on him. I don't know what deals he had to make or what he had to promise to whom, he wouldn't tell me, of course but that vote was probably the closest I've come to death without knowing it."

Halfway through his tale, I'd frozen with my fork in midair, mouth open.

I set the utensil down carefully, exchanging it for the glass of liquor, from which I take a bracing gulp.

"I didn't want you to worry," he continues, correctly reading me.

"There was nothing you could have done to help and the less you knew, the better."

"I'm sure you used to love it when David gave you that line."

John gives me another half smile.

"Fair enough."

"This vampire council," I ask around another bite of steak.

"They know 'bout me?"

After a slight hesitation, he nods.

"Yeah. David said it was best to tell them everything and hope for the best than to get caught in a lie. In this case, I agreed with him."

"And?"

I trust John with my life but I can't help but feel distinctly uncomfortable with the thought of a bunch of blood-sucking strangers out there taking votes on whether I live or die.

"And, nothing," he replies, holding my gaze steadily.

"You're my responsibility, as I am David's. The matter's at rest, for now."

"Yeah, it's the 'for now' that bothers me."

John sips his scotch and clears his throat.

I'd put a record on when I came in, a real, vinyl record from John's dead brother's collection and strains of jazz float through the house, carried by the expensive speaker system.

He tips his glass towards the air, indicating the music.

"One of my favorites," he says.

"Ahmad Jamal. I know."

He looks at me, clearly surprised and I just shrug.

"I've been listening every night. It reminds me of you."

He laughs softly, making his chair creak as he leans back.

"It's funny but music might be the only area where Quinn's tastes overlapped with mine. You'll think this is funny but I actually wanted to be a jazz musician for a while, like Jamal or Tjader. Study at Julliard. Go to Paris."

"I bet David loved that," I scoff.

"He did, actually. In fact, he was very supportive. Paid for lessons and everything."

"So, what happened?"

He studies the liquid in his glass as he twists it back and forth.

"No talent. Not for music, anyway. It's when I wanted to become a cop that David disapproved."

"Why?"

"Too close to the action, probably."

He sets his glass down and sighs.

"David always carried a great sense of guilt over what happened to my family and especially to me. Makes him overprotective. All he did was fail to get there in time to stop my dad but he's never stopped blaming himself. It didn't help that Quinn never stopped blaming him, either. I don't know how he got it in his head but Quinn was always convinced David had something to do with what happened that day, which he did, of course. Just not in the way Quinn thought."

"What if it was the way Quinn thought?" the question escapes me before I can stop it.

John looks up at me sharply.

"What do you mean?"

"Becky asked if I've seen any ghosts since Kyle. I told her I hadn't."

John frowns at my apparent non sequitor but keeps his tone level and open, inviting confidence.

"And?"

"It's the truth."

I swirl the contents of my glass but don't drink from it.

Not having anyone to talk to, anyone who really understands, anyway, has been rough.

Part of me wants to dump everything at John's feet, let him pick up the pieces, another and probably wiser, part knows this isn't fair and would play right into John's already oversized sense of responsibility and guilt.

"I've been having dreams," I say with a sigh.

"That's all."

John visibly relaxes.

I can almost read his thoughts on his face, dreams never hurt anyone.

"You want to talk about it?"

I push my food around my plate, feeling a bit like a petulant child, which is certainly not the impression I want to give John right now.

"Nah. Maybe later."

My fork clinks against the porcelain as I set it down.

"Thanks for making me dinner."

"If you wanna thank me, you should finish it," he says, glancing at my half-eaten food.

I look up at him.

"I'm full. Besides, I got my eyes on a different kind of meal."

His expression darkens, lust and hunger lighting his eyes like smoke and fire and a shiver works its way up my spine.

"You're not afraid?" he asks matter-of-factly.

I shake my head.

"Not at all."

He takes a deep breath, his broad chest expanding as he fills his lungs with air and releases it again.

"Alright," he says.

"But just so you know, I'm gonna make a meal out of you in more ways than one."

A slow grin spreads across my face and weeks of worry melt away as John rises from the table and takes my hand.

"I'm counting on it," I say and let him lead me upstairs.

[theriverbeyond]

I was just thinking about the Sixth House and the Alexandrites and Nireids and I know that we all love the sixth and they're often painted as the harmless librarian house but it's specified that both of these groups get sent outside the nine houses. And apparently any child with a sixth parent is automatically taken by the house. So presumably the women, the Nireids in particular, are pretty much full on handmaids- their job is to basically be a broodmare for the state. And the men, presumably, are supposed to impregnate the colonized populations and then take the children. Which is uhhhh....not a good look and I have trouble believing that something with implications this obviously sinister won't have something to do with the story. A big deal is also made about the exact specifics of both Gideon and Harrow's respective conceptions and births. There are lots of hints about "the maternity issue" in Nona. Babies give off way more thanergy and John wears a crown of infant finger bones. Also, Palamedes tells Pyrrha that they don't do corvid carry on the sixth but if they're sending all their best people out to get pregnant that's obviously not true! Anastasia was specified to have been pregnant at one point. A lot of emphasis is placed on conception, birth, and babies and I'm sure it all has to come together somehow...spinning this around in the microwave of my brain.

anon your brain is so enormous.... i think you are onto something and im deeply curious about where it could lead.

im thinking maybe the Nireids and Alexandrites are out there grabbing "samples" of like, blood/ejaculate/other genetic material to mail back to the sixth to be vat-wombed.......? i usually focus on the humor of the way Camilla descried the Nireids, but you're right, the whole thing is deeply sinister.

also, the interesting thing is despite the Sixth house's almost single minded effort to increase the gene pool, it really doesn't seem to be working, which has implications wrt the extent of the Nine Houses' maternity issues overall. as in, it must be really fucking bad. like REALLY bad. in the Mysterious Study of Dr Sex, Cam notes that when the Nireids go out, "it's a massacre" (which.... in the context of the creche and Harrow's conception, oof), but where is the result of that?

like, the Nireids (and Alexandrites) are out there sucking and fucking 24/7 but back on the Sixth, Palamades only has 2 potential genetic options, and Cam has four. that does not speak to their genetic outreach program being at all successful, and it can't all be because the children were repatriated to the house of their other parent. my hypothesis is it might be a 10,000 year cumulative effect of living in a thalergetic system? but i'm not sure, because we havent fully explored the difference between thalergy planets (which we know will leave their inhabitants infertile, but on a way faster time scale!) and thalergetic planets like the Nine Houses.

anyway ty for this i am putting all these ideas inside my brain microwave and i am rotating them on high

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter One - Disclosure

A/N: This was supposed to be a Jax x Fem!OC fanfic, but it took a little turn as I started to write more of it. So, it’ll be Tig x Fem!OC, but Jax does play a very important role in this.

SUMMARY: A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of murder, the guy that got his ass shit is in this one. Jax and Tig get their own warnings, too, for obvious reasons.

The older I get, the more I realize that age doesn't bring wisdom. It only brings weary.

John Teller was always so astute.

His judicious character befell his son, too. Jax had that same perceptive nature as his old man--everyone would comment on that.

To Isla, it was admirable. For Jackson Teller to be a man of such stature--to hold such a reputation--and to remain somewhat level-headed through it all, was only something she could commend.

She'd seen many of her father's friends crumble under the pressure of Samcro, unable to balance the weight of living with the responsibility and commitment to the club, and meet their unfortunate demise--in some not-so extreme cases.

But Jax was different. He'd always been different.

Maybe that wasn't so great, however.

"You're fucking insane, Isla."

"Not insane." She mumbled, sifting through the box of shitty medical supplies that Gemma had left atop the pool table last night.

"Just trying to patch this shit up so Hayes doesn't kick the fucking bucket before Jax gets back here."

Tig snarled. "But it might be infected, and the bullet is still in this dude's ass--"

Isla whipped her head to glare at the man, her eyes wide, forehead slick with sweat--and a little blood, too.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Isla--"

"Tig, with all due respect, unless you're gonna help, please get the fuck outta here."

"That's not gonna suffice," he pointed out, referring to the medical tape, ignoring her scolding.

She wanted to throttle him. Truly, Isla was willing to wrap her crimson-coated fingertips around Tig's neck and squeeze the absolute life out of that man.

"I know." Her lips kneaded together in frustration, watching her father dab an alcohol-infused pad on the wound. "But unless you've got any better ideas, then we're just gonna have to keep reapplying this shit."

"But the infection, Isla."

"But the lack of medical equipment, Tig."

He slapped his palm against the table and glared at her, pointedly. "Why've you gotta be such a bitch all the time, huh?"

"Watch it, Trager." Piqued, Chibs growled.

"I'm not a bitch all the time," she dismissed her father, wiping at her palm with a wet rag. "I'm actually able to control the way I act around other people."

"Oh, fuck you--"

"Christ!"

The Scot's yell was muffled by the cap of his whiskey bottle, his hand pressing against Cameron's skin as the man screamed into the cloth Isla had placed underneath his head.

"God, for fucks sake, both of you just pack it in."

"Chibs--"

"Shut the fuck up. You're a fucking geriatric and you're spending your morning bickering with an almost thirty-year-old. Grow up, Tig."

Despite laughing at his comment, and enjoying the irritation wash over the other man's face, she felt bad.

For riling her father up--who was simply trying to help the innocent Irishman caught in the literal crossfire--she felt fucking awful. Especially because he never seemed to get mad at her all too often.

Tig, though...That was a different story entirely.

"I'm gonna go see if Clay has any more shit lying 'round here." She declared, throwing a damp towel onto the table, backing out of the room.

Her heart was in her throat, stomach in damn knots. Isla wasn't confident that Cameron was going to make it--not with such a deep wound.

And in his ass, too? Jesus. She wasn't confident at all.

Of course, she'd seen men get shot. Her own father, for one. But she hadn't seen somebody have to go so long without actual medical attention.

Chibs was ex-army med, but there was only so much a man could've done with a bottle of liquor, gauze, and a towel.

She was relieved that the bullet hit Cameron and not Clay, though. As sick as it sounded, she was so fucking glad that he'd managed to dodge the line of fire--initially intended for his own skull--and come out completely unscathed.

But for every ounce of relief she'd felt, an even more fervid sense of anger prevailed at the thought of Jax taking so damn long with those medical supplies he'd sought to get last night.

Gemma mentioned something about heading to the hospital--or a friend's house, or something--but Isla wasn't paying any mind to the woman as she, and Chibs, were trying all ways to stop the bleeding coming from Cameron's ass cheek.

It was the most bizarre turn of events she'd ever experienced.

One minute, Isla was sipping on a glass of wine while she eagerly awaited the spirited ping of her tiny microwave oven, ready to spend a rare--though well fucking deserved--night alone.

However, things took a drastic turn when she received a call from Tig--on behalf of a very busy Chibs--casually requesting her assistance because the Mayans had tried to assassinate Clay.

But Tig failed to mention that the man was completely fine.

She'd spent fifteen minutes on the way over mentally preparing herself, wondering what hell she'd walk into when she set foot into the clubhouse. But it was normal--strangely so.

Isla wasn't a professional, she didn't exactly know how to handle such a trauma, but she trusted her father and she just wanted to make sure he had a helping hand.

God knows that Tig wouldn't have been very much use, and Juice was a little nervous--though, he was doing incredibly well throughout the ordeal regardless of his internal apprehension.

"How's it looking?" Gemma threw at Isla, getting to her feet.

"Bloody."

She quickly scanned the room, taking in the uncomfortably sparse bar. It wasn't usually so empty, so quiet.

Clay, Gemma, and Juice. That was it. Not even Piney--not even Epps.

"Is he doing okay?"

It was still early in the day, though. She guessed that they'd pop in once they properly came around.

"He's better than he was last night." The brunette nodded. "Dad is certain the laceration is gonna get infected if we leave it any longer without trying to get the bullet out--"

"You've gotta wait 'til Jax gets back here, Isla, we can't risk Hayes dying on us."

"I know, Clay. He's just fucking tired--he's been up all night. We need a real medic on the scene before something bad happens. It's only a matter of time."

He mumbled something to himself that only Gemma seemed to catch, but Isla didn't particularly give a damn at that point. Like Chibs, she was exhausted.

The tattered and torn plaid shirt she had thrown over a random tank top--now smeared with another man's blood--was wrenched between her fingers as she pulled it off, folding it not-so-neatly.

She hadn't dealt with such a bloody wound in a while. Not since her mother's palm, decorated with shards of glass, was in dire need of stitches and her father was across the country, unable to offer his medical assistance.

"I'll grab one of Jax's shirts for you--"

"No, Gemma, it's okay," she smiled, taking a seat on one of the couches opposite her.

The older woman pinched her eyebrows together skeptically, watching Isla shift. "I insist."

"It's fine." Isla was adamant. "I'm gonna head home as soon as Jax gets back here--if he gets back here--so, really, it's fine."

A minimal amount of already dried blood was spread over her wrists and fingers, and the excess had been rubbed off on her crimson flannel, so she didn't particularly feel bad about making any mess.

Though, she shouldn't have felt bad. Not after she'd been coerced into helping and eventually receiving that shitty reception from Tig.

"Aren't you cold?" She questioned, waiting for Isla to capitulate, but she never did.

The thought of wearing one of Jax's shirts--after it being given to her by his fucking mother--didn't sit right with her for some reason. Plus, she didn't particularly feel like walking out of that building wearing the damn reaper on her back.

She didn't want to flaunt their patch. Not any more than she already had been for the last ten years.

"Where the fuck is he?"

Clay glared at the clock on the wall, realizing they'd been without the Vice President for hours. In an attempt to put him at ease, Gemma ran a hand along his shoulder.

Isla could only watch them--admire, perhaps.

"He told us he was gonna swing by Tara's place for the equipment. But that was last night, man." Juice shrugged, circling the lip of his beer bottle with his thumb.

She felt her throat thicken with a sick sense of trepidation. She hadn't heard that name in years.

"Tara?" She stuttered, feeling Gemma's piercing glare.

The woman hated Jax's first love, though she never said it aloud. Isla knew her perception of her, however, and she'd started to feel the exact same as the years went on.

Bitch.

"Yeah, y'know, Tara Knowles--"

Her heart sank--fuck that, it dove straight to the deep caverns of her chest, throbbing away into nothing. Until she felt completely void of all emotion. Completely fucking numb.

"I know her, Juice." Her response came hastily, snappy. "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to say that."

He shrugged it off. "It's alright. I wasn't expecting her to be back in town, either. I thought you already knew."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Isla's head shook.

The crow situated at the bottom of her spine began to smolder, blistering away at her skin until she physically flinched.

It was a brilliant idea at the time, getting a matching tattoo with Jax's old lady--the one woman she truly adored and trusted, never once feeling an ounce of malice toward.

Because that was a rare thing for Isla, and she wanted their friendship--and relation to Samcro--to prevail for eternity, she supposed.

But as time went on and Tara decided to distance, and eventually alienate, herself from the club, an ample sense of regret persisted for fucking months.

Isla loathed her ink. She hated the negative connotation of the crow she once lauded, and the mere idea of that thing being slapped above her ass forever churned her stomach.

It wasn't one of her finest moments, she had to admit. But she was young and extremely fucking dumb. She'd bet top dollar that Tara felt the same--if she hadn't gotten the crow covered up already.

"Jesus, Jax, where were you?!"

Her eyes flicked upward, attention on the blonde as he sauntered across the wooden floor of the bar.

She hadn't even noticed his presence until Clay spoke, but she soon started to heed how Jax was trembling a bit with every step that he took.

It wasn't obvious. To most people, the slight shake of his wrist would've gone completely unnoticed. But to Isla--to the most observant woman in Charming--his discomfort was striking.

Jax ignored him, stomping his way toward the back room. His line of sight never satisfied Isla's. It didn't even come close to it, either.

Something had happened. It was obvious that, in the time he had been with Tara, he'd encountered something grizzly enough to chill him to the bone.

Which was saying something, what with the horrific shit that he'd already seen in his time.

"Jax!" Clay yelled, following closely behind him. "Hey, asshole, where the fuck did you put the bag--"

"I've got it."

If she had the option, Isla would've allowed the floor to swallow her fucking whole.

"Tara." Pissed, Gemma acknowledged. "You're here because?"

"I asked her to help, mom."

"But Chibs had it covered. He just needed some actual instruments--"

"Gemma, quit it."

She simply nodded at her son, not wanting to cause another problem that she'd have to fix later--which, honestly, Isla was shocked to see.

"He's in there--"

"I know." Jax cut her short, ushering Tara to the back of the clubhouse--striving to get her into the room before she heeded Isla.

But she did.

The first person she clocked--aside from Clay--was Isla Telford, the woman she had purposely alienated herself from ten fucking years ago.

It wasn't anything that she'd particularly done to Tara, more like the crowd she ran with--and the way her loyalties never seemed to lay very closely to her friends, or anything outside of the club.

Isla wasn't a part of Samcro--she didn't want to be a part of Samcro--but her coalition was strong enough to convince anybody that she was more than merely a daughter of a Sgt. at Arms.

She had been brought up around the Sons--her father's choice, of course--and when her mother passed, she had no choice but to dive a little bit deeper into that world. But, as expected, it was constantly under the watchful eye of her old man.

She was dedicated to them. They were, essentially, family, and she was an honorary member.

"Isla." Jax mumbled, nodding his head toward the entrance of the clubhouse as he closed the back-door. "Outside."

He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his leather vest, shaking the box as he strived to seem a little less suspicious to Clay and his mother.

The blonde wobbled to her feet--knees weak after hours of standing--while simultaneously pulling her bloodied flannel back onto svelte, freckled arms, recognizing that the chill was to hit her the second she stepped onto the gravel.

Jax was casual while he strutted ahead, taking long strides that Isla found fucking impossible to keep up with.

He pushed the door to close behind her, offering a cigarette that she hastily declined.

"What's she doing here?" Was how she decided to break the silence, her eyes searching for a hint of something written on his face.

But there was nothing. Not an ounce of emotion--scarily so.

"She's fixing Cameron up--"

"Not at the clubhouse, Jax. I meant back in Charming."

He ran a thumb across his lower lip, trying to soften his gaze on Isla, but it was futile. He looked discomposed--unsettled.

"She's uh--she's workin' at the hospital now." She started to nod, waiting for his elaboration. It never came, however.

"Oh, that's nice. I wonder what happened in Chicago...Do you know why she's back here? Or how long she's gonna be staying in town--"

"You sound like my fucking mother--give it a break with the thirty-seven questions about Tara, damnit."

He snarled, heeding the distaste of his words the second she glowered at him.

"Excuse you?"

"I didn't call you out here for a sweet little conversation, Isla, I called you 'cause I need your help--"

"With what?"

Jax's hand hooked onto the back of his neck while he tilted his head to look upward, thinking of a way--any fucking way--to explain just what damn mess he'd found himself entwined with over the course of the last twenty-four hours.

He didn't know what to say or how to say it--if he should've fucking said it. He trusted Isla with his life--always had--but sometimes he appreciated that she mightn't have appreciated finding herself tangled within Jax's boisterous, at times frightening, life.

But it was too late for that. She'd been dragged through the deepest shit and wasn't crumbling that easily.

"Jax--"

"Kohn." He stated simply, waiting for the cogs of her brain to begin turning.

"What about him? You got in trouble with the ATF or something? Because we can handle that--"

"I already did." Jax laughed humorlessly, finally meeting Isla's line of sight.

The skin underneath his eyes was red raw, blotchy and irritated after he had used the sleeve of his hoodie to scrub away the tears he'd shed.

The tears he hadn't wanted to shed, but had fallen freely--uncontrollably--from those cerulean hues Isla never tired of looking at.

"What do you mean by that?" Nervously, she quizzed.

He didn't even have to say anything. She fucking knew. She knew exactly what he meant by that, but there was a tiny morsel of something within her that hoped and prayed that he'd declare that her gut feeling was wrong.

But he couldn't. Because it was right. Like always, Isla's intuition didn't fail her.

"Jax, honey, what did you do--"

"I killed Kohn."

[jeongi]

caught me. | jjk (m)

(edit done by my love, @httpjeon)

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 13.5k

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

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

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

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

He should have known the consequences, he supposes.

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

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

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

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

You briefly think you might actually hate Seokjin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung - [1 New Text Message]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

5:52pm [You]: it’d be my pleasure!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wake up,” the apparition whispers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Pornhub’

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, that’s definitely you, alright.

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

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

No, he thinks. Absolutely not. Behave yourself.

You’re…well, you’re moaning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today, you’ve had a shitty day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

Your knees nearly give out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

Holy fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hates that it’s delicious. 

all rights reserved © jeongi

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

[evening-starlight]

Warm Beers

Taglist is OPEN! DM or comment to be added.

Posting Schedule: Monday, Wednesday, Friday

This is set before season 1

All Works Master List

Warm Beers Master List

7

Word Count: 1496

    Victor watches as Kenzie slumps down the stairs, wiping sleep from her eyes. "Good morning, sleeping beauty," He jokes. Kenzie groans in response and shuffles her way into the kitchen. "Why are you up so early?" Victor asks, looking at the clock on the microwave reading three in the morning.

    "John B. wanted to go fishing, and now I'm suddenly regretting that decision," Kenzie mumbles, laying her head on the side of the fridge as she glances inside. "Why do I do the things I do for my friends?" Victor laughs and pours her two thermoses of coffee.

    "Does John B. like cream or sugar?" He asks while he makes Kenzie's the way she likes it. Kenzie groans again with a shrug, grabbing the food she packed last night. Her father laughs at her with a shake of his head. "When did you get to sleep last night?"

    "Like eight or nine," She says, piling her food and drinks on the counter. "Is my rod in the garage still?" He dad nods at her question, and she goes out looking for that and her tackle box. She finds them propped up on the wall near her dad's squad car.

    "Is John B. picking you up?" Victor asks as she gets back into the kitchen. Kenzie nods again and goes over her mental checklist of fishing gear. She's got her fishing rod, the tackle and bait, and the food for their morning. "Be safe out there, okay?"

    "I know, Dad. I'll make sure John B. behaves," She says. The father and daughter hear the Twinkie pull up, and soon after, Kenzie's phone starts to vibrate in her pocket. "John B. is here. I'll see you after work." Kenzie states and hugs her dad goodbye. John B. meets her at the door and helps her carry her gear to the van, greeting Mr. Shoupe on the way.

    Kenzie leans her head against the door frame, closing her eyes once John B. starts the van. "Tired there, Shoupe Jr?" Kenzie whines in confirmation, trying to get a few more minutes of shut-eye before they go fishing. John B. lets Kenzie rest until they get back to his house.

    They load the boat up and are soon off to their favorite fishing spot in the marsh. The friends sit in silence while they wait for the fish to latch on. "So, what's going on with you and JJ?" John B asks after what feels like an eternity of silence. Kenzie chokes on her coffee, not expecting such an outright question.

    "We're friends like everyone is," Kenzie says. John B. rolls his eyes and looks at Kenzie, unamused. "Don't give me that look. He's just my best friend and nothing more. What's going on with you and Kie?"

    "Don't flip this on me, Shoupe. This is about that stupid tension you and JJ have." McKenzie rolls her eyes and ignores John B. as he presses again. "Come on, Kenz. We can all see it. You're always touching and flirting with each other."

    "Flirting?" Kenzie laughs. "If you consider hitting and yelling flirting, sure."

    "The way you two do it, yes. It is," John B. fires back, smirking at the annoyed look Kenzie wears. Kenzie waves off her stupid friend and goes back to fishing in the tranquil silence of the early morning.

    After nearly three hours of fishing, John B. and Kenzie walk up the dock, back towards the chateau. "I need a fucking nap," Kenzie complains, dropping herself on the couch in his living room. John B. hums in response and walks into his room, closing the door behind him.

    Kenzie is rudely awoken from her nap when the front door slams shut. "Jesus Christ, what do I have to do to get some fucking sleep?" She mumbles into the cushion, opening a single eye to look at the intruder. Pope stands over her, smiling brightly down at her with three books clutched to his chest. "What is it? Book club?" She asks, closing her eye again.

    "No, but it could be," Pope says excitedly. He moves her legs so he can sit under them. "I remembered these books I had, and I thought you'd like them."

    "I'll only listen if you get me coffee," Kenzie says as she sits up. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes as Pope dashes into the kitchen to get her a cup of coffee. Kenzie thanks Pope when he returns with her caffeine.

    Pope's shoulder sags when Kenzie lays her head on his shoulder, ready to listen to the books Pope brought over. He talks about the plots, his favorite characters, and twists. Kenzie listens intently, excited for the new books Pope will share with her when he's done rambling.

    John B. comes out of his room, shirtless, and sees the friends raving about their favorite book series. "Jesus, I didn't know I walked in on a book club," John B. teases.

    "You'd probably enjoy it if you weren't illiterate," Pope shoots back. McKenzie laughs and takes the books from Pope's lap. John B. flips his friend off as he enters the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal. "How was fishing?"

    "Fine. I'm still tired as shit because somebody needed to wake up at three in the fucking morning," Kenzie groans. John B. smirks when she gives him a dark, pointed stare. "How was your morning, Pope?"

    "I cleaned out my room and then figured I'd stop by because I have no other life or friends," Pope sighs.

    "Sounds like a loser," John B. comments through a mouthful of cereal. Kenzie stifles a laugh and watches as Pope tosses a coaster towards their friend. "When are the other fuckers coming?"

    "Kiara should be here soonish. She worked an early morning at the Wreck. Ask JJ's girlfriend when he'll be here," Pope says, glancing at Kenzie. She groans and throws her hands up in agony.

    "I'm not his stupid girlfriend," She whines, punching Pope's thigh. "Why does everyone think that?"

    "He looks at you the way John B. looks at playboy magazines and the way Kiara looks at new shoes. JJ never lets anyone touch him, let alone cuddle him," Pope starts, making Kenzie roll her eyes.

    "JJ looks at you the same way he looks at food, and Pope looks at books," John B. intervenes with a smirk. Kenzie throws her head back and groans loudly. Kiara walks in, arms full of take-out containers, and sees the boys smirking and Kenzie in anguish.

    "Woah, what'd you idiots do to Kenz?" She asks, putting the food in the fridge for later.

    "Telling Shoupe that JJ loves her," John B. answers quickly. Kiara giggles and joins in.

    "Have we told her that he looks at her the same way John B. looks at his porno mags?" She asks, making Kenzie groan again.

    "I will murder all of you and get away with it," She huffs with a roll of her eyes again.

    "JJ looks at Kenzie the way Eugene looks at Rapunzel," Pope adds, making the group laugh. "Oh! Or the way Rafe Cameron looks at coke." Kenzie can't help but laugh at that one. Nothing could come between Rafe and his cocaine.

    Kenzie continues to sit through their annoying remarks until they're all laughing up a storm at their friend's expense. Pope leans a head-on Kenzie's shoulder as his laughter dies down. "You know we love you, McKenzie."

    "Shut up, Heyward," Kenzie shrugs Pope off her shoulder and moves to turn on the TV. Kiara parks herself next to Kenzie as she hears the intro to her favorite guilty pleasure, The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

    It started when both girls were bored out of their minds one afternoon when the boys weren't around. They sat in Kiara's living room, channel surfing for something to watch together. They ended up on reality TV and fell in love with criticizing the women who had it all and yelled for more.

    Kenzie is nearly asleep on Kiara's shoulder when JJ bursts through the front door, holding a game case in his hands. "Kenzie, get your ass up. I got the new Call Of Duty." Kenzie sits up quickly, not feeling tired anymore.

    "Put it in. Put it in," Kenzie chants as she grabs the gaming controllers from the coffee table. JJ rushes to change over the TV to the gaming system and practically shoves the DVD in. "Be careful, J. It's a baby," Kenzie whines.

    "Shut up," JJ mumbles back when it finally slides in. He jumps over the coffee table and squeezes between Kenzie and Pope.

    "You know there's a whole other couch, right, JJ?" Pope huffs, shifting uncomfortably against the arm of the couch.

    "Yeah, so why don't you go sit over there?" JJ bites back as Kenzie scrolls through the opening menu. Kenzie elbows him slightly, a warning to play nice, and starts a game with the two of them.

Taglist: @Gwenlovesharrystyles @x-lulu​ @gviosca​ @cognacdelights​ @queenofallhobos​

[derivativealigner]

Well I haven’t watched sp all the way through for about a decade now, so I thought it was time

Sometimes I wonder how accurate the fandom is when it comes to how we interpret the characters. Like, why is Stan a football star so often in fanfic and why’s Kyle always the smart one? So I thought I’d rewatch the show and make notes along the way to see where the source of all these interpretations is. I also wanted to see if I could get some fun info to analyze, but season 1 is pretty sparse in that regard so there’s not too much of that in this post, but I’ll make a post for all the other seasons too as I watch them

In summary, it’s established in season 1 already that Stan’s a star quarterback and an animal lover, Kyle’s an A+ student, and Kenny is poor and knows a lot about sex and doesn’t have many qualms about doing crazy shit. Cartman is a bit weird since he’s mostly just a naive brat in this season, but he and Kyle have a mildly antagonistic friendship already

I have all my notes under this cut. They include a bunch of small details and other observations. I also listed every Kenny death just because

Ike has freckles

Cartman says “Weak!” and “You guys” and “Seriously” a lot from the start, also “Kickass!” He doesn’t say weak or kickass much in the later seasons iirc

Stan says “Dude, this is pretty fucked up right here” three times in this season but they dropped that catchphrase pretty quickly

Bebe got named in episode 2

Stan’s been an animal lover since s01e03 Volcano since he won’t shoot a bunny or anything else. He does shoot Scuzzlebutt at the end though

Cartman’s a pathological liar but in a childish way

Randy got named in s01e03 Volcano (and it only got worse from there)

The mayor went to Princeton

South Park is next to Mt. Evanson

Kenny will literally drink gasoline

Stan’s a star quarterback in 3rd grade

Clyde’s voice is wrong as hell in S01E04 Big Gay Al’s Big Gay Boat Ride and he has a dog, Rex

Garrison says Kyle is an A+ kid

Shelly seriously abuses Stan, punching him, throwing him, maiming him with a lawnmower

Cartman had a pot-bellied pig called Fluffy

Cartman’s mom smokes crack and has sex with strange men

Dr. Mephesto is probably a Buddhist since he says “Thank Buddha” instead of “Thank God”

Clyde’s voice gets kind of fixed in S01E06

A guy called Mr. McCormick is killed in a protest, launched and splattered against a network building. He doesn’t look like Kenny’s dad though

Zombie Clyde attacks Bebe, rude

Wendy gave her costume contest prize (2 tons of candy) to hungry children in Nairobi

Cartman’s mom is on the cover of Crack Whore magazine. “Back do’ ho… Five on one action!” is the headline

Cartman genuinely cries at Kenny’s grave after the whole zombie thing but gets over it because of candy

Stan knows his mom’s credit card number and has no problem using it to adopt an Ethiopian child (the boys wanted a watch that came with the adoption, they weren’t doing it to be nice)

Cartman calls Stan a vas deference, Stan doesn’t know what that is so Kenny says “Dude, it’s a pipe for your peepee” (according to a transcript). Kenny sure knows male anatomy

Kyle sniffs Kenny after Cartman asks why poor people smell like sour milk and Garrison says “idk eric they just do”

Cartman thinks poor people should die and decrease the surplus population

When the boys get Starvin’ Marvin delivered to them, Cartman says “Hey mom, we found an Ethiopian, can we keep him?” and his mom says “Sure, hun.” She rarely says no to Cartman

Kenny’s dad is an alcoholic who drinks scotch according to Cartman. I mean, Mr. McCormick is seen drinking in multiple episodes and has a hat that says SCOTCH so it’s probably true

Kenny’s family says grace

Craig’s first appearance is S01E09. Also, S01E09 is the first time Kenny doesn’t die (Coincidence? I THINK yeah but it’s still fun)

Clyde got named in S01E10

Clyde and Bebe both spit on Pip���s face, friendship goals <3

Cartman and Kyle have their first fight at Cartman’s birthday party because Kyle didn’t give the right gift. Cartman slaps his face and  screams “I hate you! I want you to die! Die!” while on top of Kyle who’s not really fighting back

Satan throws a fight with Jesus after everyone except Satan bet that Jesus would lose, which leads to Satan winning everyone’s money. Mr. Garrison says “What a mean thing to do!” and Jimbo says “He is a jerk!” and I thought it was quite a laugh so I wrote it down

In S01E11 Tom’s Rhinoplasty Bebe and Wendy are sitting in the swings together and generally appear together throughout the episode, then Bebe gives Wendy a makeover so they’re bffs obviously <3

Craig first appears in the classroom, though not sitting down, in S01E11

Wendy’s not happy about Ms. Ellen taking Stan away from her, she says “Don’t fuck with me! Stay away from my man, bitch, or I’ll whoop your sorry ho ass back to last year!”

Kenny gives Ms. Ellen a scrumptious looking sausage as a valentine’s gift and giggles deviously. Wendy’s gift to Ms. Ellen is a dead animal

Even Kenny doesn’t know what a lesbian is

Wendy’s grandma died in S01E11

Wendy gets Ms. Ellen killed by hiring the Iraqi government (?) to put her in a rocket and shoot it into the sun, then she and Bebe have a pool party (very cool, they wear sunglasses 😎) and watch the rocket hit the sun

Cartman and Pip play a game of kicking each other in the nuts until someone falls. Cartman calls it “Roshambo”

Kenny has a sack of marbles

The boys aren’t fans of Barbra Streisand, but Stan is a fan of the Denver Broncos quarterback John Elway (he’s not a quarterback anymore, he’s an American football executive and the president of football operations for the Denver Broncos of the NFL according to wikipedia.)

Officer Barbrady is a fan of Fiona Apple (who was 20 at the time and had only one album released called Tidal)

Ned knows how to pilot a helicopter

Kyle’s mom is a fan of Streisand unlike literally everyone else, she even gets an autograph from Mecha Streisand

The boys are fans of Robert Smith, the lead singer of The Cure. Stan says “Robert Smith is the greatest person that ever lived!” and Kyle says “Disintegration is the best album ever!” and Cartman says “Robert Smith kicks ass!” and Kenny’s dead so he doesn’t get to have an opinion

Cartman has tea parties with his toys: Polly Prissypants, Clyde frog, Peter Panda, and a dragon called Rumpertumskin

Kyle wants to make fun of Cartman for the tea party but Stan stops him because he’s concerned that Cartman needs help

Craig is in front of the school counselor’s office in S01E13

A young miss Cartman drinks like a motherfucker at the 12th annual drunken barn dance where Cartman was supposedly conceived

Stan lets Cartman borrow his bike like a good friend

Garrison wanted to have a threesome with Chef and Cartman’s mom. I don’t know why I’m making a note of this but uh… yeah.

Cartman’s mom has had sex with everyone at this bar that Garrison’s drinking at, including principle Victoria, the mayor, Father Maxi, and Jesus (and maybe Kenny’s dad since he’s at the bar but the camera doesn’t pan to him when Garrison says they’ve all slept with Liane). Later Gerald Broflovski is a possible father to Eric, so he fucked her too. Also Mr. Mephesto and his friend Kevin, that little guy, are candidates along with a lot of other people, including the 1989 Denver Broncos (and Mr. Tenorman is included in that later)

Cartman doesn’t make fun of Kyle for being Jewish much at all in this season even though the Christmas episode is all about Kyle not celebrating

Clyde and Token appear very early on and Clyde has always been in the classroom (along with Bebe, Red, Kevin Stoley, Wendy, and Pip and uhh DogPoo too I think). Craig appears later in the season and Tweek’s not in season 1 at all, so Craig’s gang isn’t really a thing yet

And here’s a list of the ways Kenny died in this season. He dies in every episode except episode 9, and he dies twice in episodes 2 and 3. Altogether he dies 14 times

S01E01 Killed after alien shoots him, cows stampede over him, then cop runs him over which finally actually kills him

S01E02 Killed in a play by a falling teepee, then a second time shot by Garrison which sends him in the air and he gets impaled on a flagpole on the way down

S01E03 Killed by a volcano rock that burns him then rolls on him but he’s alive again in the end but gets shot by Ned’s gun that he drops and it accidentally goes off

S01E04 Gets his arms and head torn off in an American football game

S01E05 Stan’s clone punches Kenny into a microwave where he gets cooked alive

S01E06 Death touches Kenny

S01E07 Kenny gets crushed by a Russian space station and turns into a zombie because he gets Worcestershire sauce in his veins, then Kyle chainsaws zombie Kenny in half, then zombie Kenny rises from his grave and is crushed by a statue and a plane

S01E08 Kenny is killed by a bunch of turkeys. His eye gets plucked out. It’s dark blue

S01E10 After Kenny gets turned into a duck-billed platypus, Jimbo and Ned shoot him

S01E11 Ms. Ellen throws a sword through Kenny’s face

S01E12 While Mecha Streisand and a giant robot Leonard Maltin fight, Kenny plays with a tetherball and gets the rope wrapped around his neck and it strangles him

S01E13 Kenny gets stuck on a go kart and it drags him around but stops and he’s still alive! Too bad the go kart stops on train tracks and a train runs him over. Stan’s grandpa sends a video of the event to America’s Stupidest Home Videos and wins $10,000

If you read all that, first of all hello. I’m not new to the fandom even though this is the first thing I’ve posted on this tumblr blog. I’ve been writing a fanfic called Caffetamine though so I’m not a complete non-entity. Anyway, I’ll watch season 2 soon and post my notes on that too probably.