#god yall better appreciate this one my fingers were acting up the entire time

[onedragonaday]

2/4/24 Dexter from Jellycat

[starlight-writes-stuff]

SO HEAR ME OUT an nsfw alphabet for draco

hey bestie - im literally so excited to do this (: i have a guilty pleasure of reading nsfw alphabets so u really hit the nail on the head with this request . n e ways , enjoy !

AYO LOOK AT THESE ! : smut (duh but still) , hair pulling , breeding k!nk , unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it) , masturbation , choking , light bondage , praise kink , general adult themes and content so please only read if ur okay with that .

reblogs are always appreciated ! <3 ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁  ☁

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

draco is the literal definition of a fluff fic after sex - hes so soft and loving and affectionate . if the sex was on the rougher side , draco goes out of his way to kiss any bruises , cuts , or red marks he may have left on you, soothing the sinfully painful spots with soft touches of his suddenly gentle fingertips.  

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

draco is built like a greek mf god , and he knows it . he’s all lean , toned muscles and his alabaster pale skin only makes him look more ethereal . draco is quite proud of his body and isn’t afraid to show off if needed.

draco literally loves everything about you , and you’ve tried over and over to get him to pick his most favorite - he never does it because he’s a stubborn little shit and refuses to let you think that he values one part of you over any other . finally , you wore him down to coming up with a top 3 : your hands , your hair , and your chest .

 your hands as they fit perfectly in his , they brush his hair out of his eyes with a gentleness that melts him every time (and the way you dig your nails into his back or his arms iykyk) . 

draco loves your hair mostly because its the exact opposite of his own ; long , thick , and chocolate brown . he’s constantly playing with your hair , whether that's running his hands through it or gently tugging on it to get your attention . he would kill you if you ever told anyone , but draco taught himself how to braid your hair so he would have something repetitive to do to calm his anxiety .

 draco loves your chest : he's such a boob guy . he is such a boob guy . even in a non-sexual context , draco loves having his hands up your shirt just feeling how soft your breasts are , the way that he can feel your heartbeat if you’re still enough . when things are getting *frisky* draco loves your tits - in his hands , using his mouth on them , titty-fucking you , literally everything . 

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

draco has a huge breeding kink , but is simultaneously terrified of getting you pregnant. he knows that he wants to be a dad eventually , but draco malfoy is the king of daddy issues™ and can’t fathom having a child right now .

that doesn’t stop him from filling you up with his cum every time you guys fuck - draco loves watching your face as you take his entire load , begging him not to pull out . 

once he does , though , draco’s head is immediately between your legs watching his manhood drip out of you , fingering it out of you while you whimper at the way he seems to hit all the right spots . 

he’s extremely thankful for the tiny , yellow birth control pills that you’re on , and he reminds you every day to take them .

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

draco had never , ever said i love you to someone during or after sex until the two of you had your first time . now , its a normal occurrence for draco to tell you how much he loves you as he thrusts into your pretty , fucked out body . he lets his forehead fall to yours , moaning the words in between heavy breaths as he finishes inside you .

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

draco had a couple of hookups , and a complicated friends with benefits situation before the two of you got together , so he was somewhat experienced by the time you guys finally got down to it . he made sure you felt so good the entire time , using every trick in his book to make you cum around him over and over until he reached completion as well . 

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

draco is a sucker for regular old missionary . he likes being able to watch your face as you take every inch of him , watching your facial expressions change and morph under the influence of his pleasure . if he’s eager to feel you - all of you - draco will hook one of your legs over his shoulders , giving him better access to your sex . this is the one instance where draco wont keep eye contact with you : he can't resist watching himself slide in and out of you , coated in your cum .

however

he's an absolute sucker for you riding him , too . he loves to let you take control and chase your pleasure - plus the visual of you bouncing up and down on his cock , eyes rolling back into your head as you hit all the right spots is enough to send him over the edge . if you get tired while on top , draco will gladly hold your hips in place , fucking up into you until you practically collapse into him , entirely taken over by the force of your orgasm. 

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

intimacy is something that didn’t come easy for you and draco; he’d never been with someone that he actually loved before you . there was a deep intensity to the emotions shared between you two during sex , and draco viewed that time between the both of you as something almost sacred . foreplay , or just general teasing can be silly with you two , but making love is more serious . 

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

draco keeps himself trimmed , but not entirely clean shaven , and the hair down there is darker than his signature white-blond locs .

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

(refer back to g but i could talk about this for days) draco is incredibly romantic when it comes to sex . your first time was like something out of a movie - draco had lit candles everywhere , filling the room with soft , flickering light , as well as changing the sheets on your bed to a soft , white cotton . he’d taken his time making you comfortable ; you and draco had talked through all your fears for hours before he laid a hand on you . once you were ready , draco’s touches had been soft and slow and tender all over your body - he’d made you feel like the angel you were . quickly , you learned that draco wasn’t like that just because it had been your first time ; draco made an effort to make sex just as special every time. 

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

draco was raised thinking that masturbation was a shameful act , something dirty and below him (you literally can not tell me that this isn't true i'll fight it until the day i die . as much as i love narcissa the malfoy family fkn sucks and they damaged draco so bad . anyways) so it’s very rare that he’ll get himself off. when he does , its somewhere where he can quickly get rid of the evidence , such as the shower . 

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

while draco makes sex between you two meaningful and special , that doesn’t mean that he’s afraid to be rough (after yall have had a long talk about it before where you gave him enthusiastic consent ofc . ) 

draco loves to pull your hair or wrap a hand around your throat while he’s hitting it from the back , so much so that he’ll bring your back up to his chest . 

he really enjoys a bit of light choking here and there - just enough to watch your pretty face flush with blood , making your moans the slightest bit weaker . 

draco loves to tie your hands up above your head while he’s eating you out as well ; it makes you take all the pleasure he’s willing to give , and he lives for the way your body writhes and bucks under his skillful tongue. 

you literally can not tell me that draco doesn’t have a praise kink - both giving and receiving . draco loves to tell you how good of a job your doing whether you're sucking him off or taking all of him inside you , and he’s constantly reassuring you that you’re doing such a good job.

however

he fucking loves when you praise him as well (my theory as to why is so fkn sad so we wont go over that here) but that boy lives for you telling him how good he’s making you feel , and when you encourage him nodding and whining for him to go faster . its the one thing that undoes him almost immediately , and he flushes furiously every time you tell him just how fantastic he’s doing .  

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

you and draco rarely get it on outside of your bedrooms at hogwarts , or your childhood rooms when you’re home for the summer - but there’s an exception to every rule. draco has absolutely ruined you in the quidditch changing rooms after a rather brutal loss , and he’s the king of shower sex , too.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

praise !! draco loves you telling him how good his dick feels , or his tongue , or his hands . he also appreciates when you’re rather direct with him - telling draco exactly where you want him , what you want him to do - it drives him absolutely insane . hearing such dirty words come from your sweet , innocent mouth kills him , and it makes draco that much more excited.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

there's nothing draco wouldn’t try at least once , but he’s rather uncomfortable with voyeurism. he hates the idea of anyone else seeing your body , watching how you wriggle and whine underneath him as he makes you cum . while the two of you have done it in some questionable locations , draco had made sure that no one could see . 

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

while draco loves your mouth wrapped around him , that boy could spend all day between your legs . he's nothing short of obsessed with eating you out , and its one of his favorite things to do for you . he cant help the way it makes him feel - hearing you whimper and moan while you pull on his hair , your back arching off the bed when his tongue flicks in just the right way . he gets a sort of high from it , and absolutely prides himself on making you cum with just his tongue . 

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

it really depends on the day . draco loves fucking you slow , watching his manhood slide in and out of your pretty body coated in your arousal , but he cant resist fucking you so hard he leaves bruises , either . if its just a regular day , the two of you fall somewhere in between , a perfect mix of rough and sweet . 

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

draco loves a good quickie every once in a while ! sometimes he needs a release , and your body is his favorite vessel . usually quickies are where the two of you get a little more risky - he’ll grab your arm , pulling you into an empty classroom or the shower and take you then and there . 

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

yes and no . draco would try anything and everything , especially if you asked him to , but there are some things that are a one-and-done for him . the two of you are good at talking about that stuff - if something made one of you uncomfortable , the other would understand 100% . its all about the balance of boundaries and still being adventurous. 

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

draco would fuck you all day if you would let him . he can make you cum many , many times before he’ll allow himself to even get close , and even then his stamina is through the roof . he can go at least 3 rounds if not more , and switch positions as many times as you’d like . 

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

while draco doesn’t mind you using toys on yourself , they do make him slightly jealous . you gently tease him about this sometimes , how he works himself into a sulk over an inanimate object - however, that usually leads to your hands tied to his headboard , draco holding a vibrator on your clit until you can’t take anymore orgasms. 

you two have expirimented with using your vibrator during sex , but draco much prefers playing with your clit over using an outside source , and seretly , you do too . he’s amazing with his hands , and rubs tight , fast circles onto your sensitive nub while his hips snap against yours only intensifying the sensation .

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

draco loves to tease you - he likes to watch the way you come undone under the slightest touches of his hands . very rarely does he tease you for long - he can’t resist giving you what you want , what you’re begging him for in that high , breathy voice .

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s a loud motherfucker all the time , and the bedroom is no exception . draco’s moans are music to your ears , and they turn you on more than anything . his already rough voice only gets raspier , and deeper , too . he loves to talk dirty to you , but as he approaches his orgasm , he can barely form full sentences . his cocky pillow talk turns to almost desperate moans and whimpers as his thrusts get sloppier and quicker , his hips snapping against yours hard . his groans as he cums are heavenly , especially since he’s usually buried his head in your neck or dropped his forehead to yours by then . 

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

we all know that draco have a superiority / god complex (as he should 😌) , and this manifests in the bedroom - you would’ve never known , though , if it weren’t for a complete accident . you and draco had been studying together , and he’d asked one of the yes or no questions written on a flashcard .  not thinking about your actions , you’d answered the question with “no, sir” - then physically felt draco’s entire body stiffen underneath you . you’d picked up on it immediately , blood flooding your face as you’d asked him if he liked it .

yes , he did .

he loves when you call him sir as he’s fucking the life out of you - like , he has to stop himself from cumming on the spot . 

when you want to fuck with him for whatever reason , you’ll jokingly call him ‘sir’ in front of your friends

you’ll pay for it later , though

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

mans is built in every sense of the word . draco is quite well endowed , which was something that took you a bit to get used to . he was never one to measure - it just seemed wrong to him , like he was doing something dirty - but by your estimations , draco is about 7 inches . he’s thicker than most , too , which only adds to your pleasure . 

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

draco lives in a constant state of horny™ . he can’t help it - something about you brings out his most primal instincts . he’s so in love with you and your body that he can rarely keep his hands off of it , but he knows how to control himself . he tries to match your sex drive ; when yours is high , his is too , but he doesn’t mind waiting on you to give him the green light if you’re libido has been lower . 

z = zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

its safe to say that the both of you are extremley tired after sex - its quite the workout . draco is so soft once he’s finished , and he would live in that post-sex haze forever if he could ; he’s all sweet kisses and skin-to-skin contact , but he’ll usually wait until you fall asleep on him before he can drift off . something about making sure that you’re comfortable enough to sleep on him fills draco with a sense of immense pride . once you’ve fallen asleep, depending on how vigorous everything was , draco will usually fade pretty soon after ; on the off chance that he still has some energy , draco stays up and watches you . he looks at you as if you were a piece of art , usually following the soft lines and curves of your face with a gentle finger ; admiring you like the angel you are .

[starfirette]

Chapter Three: Attack On Trost

grand masterlist | previous chapter | more levi | join the taglist: inbox

You reminisce your old passions and dreams when you meet an old friend–but the peace quickly ends.

tags: @kuxredere | @luvelyxp | @fan-g0rl | @levisbrat25 | @a-dream-is-reality 

a/n: Levi makes his grand arrival soon! Thanks to those who commented, liked, and reblogged the last chapters, as well as the Armin x Mother! Reader fic. Yall are so sweet! 

Connie Springer’s entire family is quite alive. 

You learned this unexpectedly when you were working on your assigned duties of the day. Every new graduate was taken to Trost to ‘celebrate’ their new found ‘freedom.’ The new cadets were to do the dirty work for the next three days while assignments were being made. 

In Trost, assigned with five others you didn’t even know the names of, you were on the ground transporting wagons of dry solider feed and blades to the supply center, or, for Garrison soldiers, headquarters. 

You wouldn’t have had any qualms with this job. It was nice to be outside among actual people, breathing fresh air. Trost is a little bubble village along the southern mouth of Wall Sina. Since the breach five years ago, Wall Sina served as the only defense against the titan beyond. Everything beyond it, including your old home, would now be ridden with them. 

You’d half hoped you’d be assigned to the suppliers along the top of wall. Not because you wanted to see Titans, but because you would have wanted to look out to the vast fields that you had once lived amongst. But Shingashina wouldn’t be at all visible to your naked eye, not even from the highest point of the world. The idea that you’d never again see Shingashina did hurt your heart more than you cared to admit. 

But that pain was naught compared to that which you felt when you watched Connie Springer, a younger boy apart of your corps, become embraced by a group of people you could only presume to be his family. A woman had him wrapped in a motherly embrace. 

He looked entirely surprised, and while he acted embarrassed, you could see in his body language that he was over the moon with joy. Who wouldn’t be? 

After over a year of spending time sharing showers in the community sauna with the other cadets that regularly kicked your ass, being with your family is much like being in Heaven. 

Your stomach ached as you turned back to your duties. You lifted bags of wheat and grain to the carts that would soon be taking off for HQ. You realized through the blurred vision of tears and sunshine that you were trembling all the way down to your knees. 

Now more than ever, you wish desperately for Annacka. Even just a letter from her in her swirly script would be enough. You half hope that she’s lingering somewhere, trying to catch a glimpse of you so she could make her grand, surprise visit. Maybe at any moment little Freda would attach herself to your legs, crying your name with that angelic lilt the way she used to.

You wiped your eyes quickly with the back of your jacket sleeve. The scratchy material was clearly made to protect a body, and not to soothe one’s skin.

You and the rest of your squad seemed to notice the surplus of family members gathering about the village center. It is the village center, but you can’t help yourself from getting annoyed. How could they just stand around and watch you all work? They were mostly in the way.

With some annoyance gathering as a scoff in your throat, you hoisted a large sack of dry feed over your shoulder. As you walked to the transport wagon about a yard away, you were suddenly stopped by a person.

You tried to keep yourself from expressing your discomfort as you averted your eyes. You walked around her, but she stepped in front of you again.

You couldn’t avoid her any longer, so you dropped the dry feed from your shoulder into your arms, holding it like an oversized baby.

“You’re Y/n L/n!” The young woman gasped. Her eyes were wide as plates, and they stared at you with such confidence and familiarity that you were a little bit frightened.

“I don’t know you,” you tell her cautiously.

Her ginger lashes fluttered like butterflies as her bow of a mouth shaped into a thin smile. “My name is Fable Rippley. We grew up at the orphan house together.”

The dry feed slipped out of your arms, falling by your feet with a thump.

“My god,” you say. “You’re so tall now!”

Fable Rippley held her freckle arms open for a hug.

Though you recognized her, and were of course happy to see her, you hesitated to accept her hug.

As her arms wrapped around you, you felt how bony and thin she was. You lightly touched her back with your hand, using the bare minimum of a hug to get by.

“I had no idea you—!” She exclaimed, but she quickly pressed her lips flat. “The other girls never responded to my letters. Eventually they were being returned, so...”

"So you figured that I had died,” you assumed for her. 

Her thin mouth smashed into a pale line. “I did,” she admitted, the words sounding as though they were being ground from her throat. “I always felt as though it should have been me rather than the others,” Fable continued on a trail of thought. 

“That’s not your fault,” you note to the tall girl. “It’s a blessing that you were adopted when you were. How old were you then?” 

“I was ten,” she said with a faint lilt of happiness as she recalled the simpler times. “I’m sixteen, now. My birthday’s just passed.” 

“Happy birthday,” you tell her with a half of a smile. “What brings you to Trost?” 

“I am only visiting. My parents have relatives who’ve just had a child. The little boy survived, and so we are all shopping the market to celebrate.” 

“Oh,” you said. You didn’t know how you were supposed to respond to such a  broad statement. ‘Glad the kiddo didn’t die,’ you could say, but she might not appreciate such humor. 

“I’m so, so happy to see you,” Fable suddenly burst out. “I never thought that I could see anyone from my past ever again. And to see you, now, to see that you’ve gotten so much older...it makes me so painfully happy that you could carry on the legacies of our sisters.” 

Fable’s sudden outpour of emotion struck you like a bolt of lightning. 

The blood rushed to your face as you looked up at the taller girl with a feeling of queasy-ness crossed with embarrassment. “I suppose so?” you worded very carefully. 

Fable just chuckled-a light little noise like that of a pixie. 

“We all loved you so much. That’s what I mean. The other little girls bickered for your attention, and somehow, you managed to spend quality time with all of them. All of us. Do you remember the shoe shine box? Oh, it was that special box with the expensive balms to treat leather. And one Yule, every girl got her own pair of real leather Mary-Janes. There was only one shoe shining box to go around. You found a way to split the balms amongst all thirty girls and even yourself! You were a sister to us. Even a mother to the littler girl, what was her name...Freda? Yes, yes, Freda. Oh that child clung to you or to Annacka, and she wouldn’t accept anyone else. Don’t you remember the time when-”

Fable’s voice had risen to a giggle, but she cut herself off shortly when she took a stern frown to her mouth and examined your face. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Tears poured down your face like damn waterfalls, and you couldn’t get it to stop. You did remember the shoe shin box. You remembered trying to use it so sparingly between all the children. You remembered panicking when the balm ran out and scrounging together all of your spare change to buy more. 

You even remembered having none left over for yourself. 

And you did remember little Freda. Her shoes were purchased many sizes to big so that she could grow into them. She sat on your lap at the tender age of three, swinging her legs as she didn’t pay attention to your lecture on how to care for leather. 

She wanted to wear them as soon as you were done, and vehemently insisted the shoes would fit miraculously when you informed her they wouldn’t. She had to take such careful little steps around the place so she wouldn’t trip or fall. 

“I shouldn’t have mentioned her at all,” Fable murmured. “Or any of them.”

You wiped your eyes with the mounts of Venus, shaking your head negatively. “Freda didn’t die that day,” you said, your voice sounding dreadfully thick with sorrow. “Freda is very much alive. She lives with Annacka now. Annacka, Freda, and I, we were the only survivors from the orphanage. And also you. Annacka is her mother. I doubt Freda remembers me at all.” 

“How couldn’t she?” Fable asked. “You were such an important part of the house to all of us girls. It’s strange...strange to think that you were only fifteen, then. You gave up your childhood to help raise children. And now you’re a solider!” 

You stifled an informal chuckle. “That’s one way to look at it,” you agreed. 

“You know,” Fable said with a eye crinkling grin, “I remember how badly you wanted to be a doctor.” 

The words made your heart flutter. “You do?” 

“How couldn’t I?” Fable laughed. “You were always talking about the hospital in Calaneth. You wanted to go so badly to be a nurse. Somehow, being a solider suits you more...”

Fable drew you in close for another tight hug. Her boney arms were strong, and her finger tips may have even bruised your back, but her embrace was the most comforting. 

“I should find my family now,” Fable said with a shy gleam in her eyes. “I live in Fairkelt. It’s a little village near Stohess. I’d like to write to you.” 

“Then I will write to you,” you assured her. 

“Amazing! I live in Fairkelt,” she repeated. “But I guess you could just mail the letters to Stohess. The disctrict’s messenger can bring the letters out to our farm. But, you could just label it to Fairkelt if you’d like that more. I really don’t mind. But what do you think would work better? Maybe a letter to Stohess, marked with a note to deliver to Fable Rippley, would be more clear and concise. It couldn’t get lost that way.” 

She titrated on with her childish charm and rant. 

“I’ll write two,” you amused yourself. “Both letters couldn’t get lost, could they?” 

Fable went red in the face as she laughed. “I’m sorry for ranting on. You have duties to attend. I’m so happy we’ve bumped into one another. I’ll look out for your letter.” 

As Fable skipped away, further into the marketplace of Trost, you looked after her, her red hair swinging back and forth like a lick of fire in the air. She was white as a ghost. She must never get any sun, you think as you bend down to retrieve the dry feed you’d dropped earlier. 

Fairkelt, just off of Stohess. The mental image of the map in mind led you to pinpoint Fairkelt somewhere along the forest. Perhaps she lived in a secluded little cottage under the shaded canopy of trees. 

You carried the feed to the heavy carts mounted to four large horses. 

The Garrison solider that supervised your squad chastised you as you set the sack down. “I ought to write you up for idle chatter while on duty.” 

You tucked your chin downward. “Apologies, sir,” you echoed the template you’d been so dutifully taught by Sadies. 

He seemed to considered saying something else; another set of lecturing words, perhaps, but he didn’t. He waved you to continue. 

You and your squad continued the painful march back and forth, over the same dirt and stones of the two 1/2 yards. 

“Why can’t the damn wagons be closer together?” a girl of your squad grumbled. 

“Maybe cos thee Garrison don’t wan’ no pussies in thur ranks,” someone retorted. 

The girl mocked his words in the same thick accent he spoke with. “Wut makes yu think the Garrison gun wan a dumbo like yu?” she fired back, her hands on her hips. 

Well maybe Fable just doesn’t get outside much, you were thinking again of her wispy white skin, as if she were a ghost. 

You’d read a wonderful story, though long ago, about a ghost coming to warn the village of a coming attack. The attack came every century on the same night, and only one boy in the whole village believed the ghost.

Wouldn’t that be exciting? 

To know a ghost? To be that bridge of life for them? 

Oh, but how painful it must be for ghosts, for they can watch forever what they can never have. 

You hoisted another sack of dry feed over your shoulder. Turning on the balls of your feet, you looked at the full wagon that would be making it’s way to the Garrison’s supply center. Your final bag would be it. 

The sun blazed down across you, the heat beating past the thick material of your uniformed jacket. 

You tossed the final sack of dry meal onto the wagon, and your squad cheered at the sight of their chore being completed. 

“So we get to see the center now, right?” one of the girls from your squad politely asked the supervisor. He gave her a stern look over his thin glasses. 

“Yes,” he said, finally. 

You collapsed against the side of the cart as your squad cheered. You could feel the sweat that saturated you underneath your clothes and uniform. 

The leather straps and belts seemed to slide around easier than they had this morning, which made you feel better. The harness usually made you feel bloated. But with all the sweat, you were like butter on a hot griddle. 

You looked down at your own knees. Sweat stains formed at the joints of your white pants. 

You began to shrug out of your jacket when, all too suddenly, a group of cats ran past you. 

It was a strange sight, to be sure, for these cats did not only run-they sprinted. They went bolting as if they were hiding for their lives. You looked after them, counting them each in your head. 

One...two...three...f-

The CRACK of the thunder quaked through the earth you stood upon, jolting even the wagon. There had been a brief, brief flash of light, one that you doubted you’d even seen. 

The entire village came to a standstill. People muttered, asked questions, looked about for signs of storms. But you just looked after that group of alleycats whose tails were upright and haunches were breaking past their fur. 

The sweat dribbled down your neck as you spun around to look up in the air, which itself had a fresh smell of smoke. The sort of smoke that was layered with hot, raw meat. The scent made your eyes water. You looked to the sky. It’s emptiness filled your stomach with violent anxiety and just when you’d began to comprehend what was happening, the screaming started. 

[eitelle]

Hi!! Congrats on 60 followers btw! 💗

I am a female and I’d like to matched up with a guy from Haikyuu. I am ENFJ, (but sometimes enfp). I’m outgoing and generally nice to everyone, but I have a very sassy, goofy personality. Naturally flirty and very affectionate, and my love language is physical touch. I have my moments when I get shy and anxious, especially around someone I really have a crush on. Yet at the same time I’m the person always trying to hug and cuddle my friends even after roasting them. My favorite colors are blue, red, purple and pink. I love some teasing. I’m passionate about acting and singing. I love to listen to all kinds of music. I have long curly blackish hair and I’m 5’2. I’m a Gemini Sun, Cancer Rising and Gemini Moon. I am a caring and adaptable person, and like to make people happy I always finding a way to slip a stupid joke in🙄( joking is my coping mechanism) . My favorite food is tacos. African-American, and I like someone that I can relate to. I don’t have a specific type, but I do like someone with goals and passion. I like someone I can laugh with and also have real conversations with. I’m so into the romantic lovey-dovey stuff, yet sometimes I act like a little boy💀. I can be loud asf, even just when normally talking cause I usually have a lot of energy.

As far as style goes, it varies from 12 year old boy with some joggers and a t-shirt wayyyy too big for me , to like a 90s baddie with some hoops on, to girly with skirts, sweaters and some knee high socks. As far as accomplishments go, I’ve won state in theater and continue to pursue acting. It’s something I’m very passionate about. Some flaws of mine are overthinking and my anxiety. Like I’ll overthink an entire situation before I really know what happened and assume that someone like hates me. Or I’ll assume I’m talking to much and that’s it’s annoying so I just kinda.. shut down. My anxiety can get kinda bad, i get all shaky and I care a lot about what people think of me (although I try to deny it). So I’ll need someone who can bring me back to earth every now and then. But it’s getting better with time and I’m trying to stress myself out less. When I’m out I’ve got such a big personality and I’m making dumb jokes and dancing, but when I get home I’m just chilling and watching anime. (Although I will dance and make jokes if I feel like it). And I’m a night owl!

Sorry if this was too much!! I really appreciate what you are doing 💗.

OH MY GOD IM AN INFJ THAGS SO COOL!! MY ONLINE PERSONALITY IS LOWK ENFJ THO SO I THINK THATS SO SWAG SHSHSHS (if u recall me saying otherwise shhhhh thats when i trusted 16personalities) ALSO STATE IN ACTING??? UR SO COOL WTF?? ANYWAYS

ok i was actually just wanting to do a matchup w this character n it just so happens u seem to literally fit what id say is his ideal type so i have matched you with: semi eita

GOSH I LOVE HIM OK HCS: (also im so sorry for doing these so late shshs 😖)

forst of all hes def helping w ur lines

like hes such a good person to help prep u

hes also like lowk very lowkey shdhd and honest/blunt so if u ever get an anxiety attack i think hed tell u how it is like straight up n that ur overreacting but in the way that snaps u back to reality

n hes like ur anchor shdhd

i think thats so cute

and sometimes he gets stage fright so i feel like your presence would just help comfort him

OOH ALSO YALL WOULD PROB RELEASE SO GS TOGETHER

N HED LOVE SINGING W U 😫‼️

i feel like hed call u angel, his muse, or his bitch. no in between.

i also feel like he loves how hes so pale and his hair is gray and hes tall n ur lowk short n ur skin is darker and ur hair is like complete opposites and he loves that

like the opposites but fits so well together thing

yall def listen to ricky montgomery together idec.

and taylor swift.

ooh i know for a fact that mans had a hamilton phase but thats why hes so hot tbh

yall also make like photo/mood boards of yall or playlists lol i feel so lonely rn help-

if one of ur anxiety attacks comes in public u know this man is gonna pull the “im famous u want a photo?” to drag attention away from u shdh

oh u def call him suga by “accident” to make him mad HAHAHSJSH

prob the clubbing people but i could see him n u watching anime together and u accidentally hum the ops while harmonizing by accident sometimes shahsgdj

GOSH OK THAT WAS LONG SORRY OK ANYWAYS NOW ITS TIME FOR A ONE SHOT!! (also if u ever need to talk ab something my dms r always open!!)

IS THAT THE TOUNGE N LIKE TEETH THING BUT IN ANIME??/7;6&3);&;7: I JEVER NOTICED THIS WHAT THE FUCK

on a normal friday night, a (your age) person would normally be out with friends, or maybe even going clubbing. but not you, no you and your boyfriend were sitting on the couch, howl's moving castle on your tv and your head on his chest.

it was a chill day to say the least, you and him both having a full day off and spending it like this the two of you too exhausted from the weeks events already. you had random music playing in the background. by random i mean random it went from ed sheeran to lil uzivert all the way to BTS; needless to say it was kinda a mess. but that was how you liked it.

all of a sudden ‘The Schuyler Sisters’ from the original broadway cast of hamilton: the musical started blasting interrupting the beautiful silence w background noise.

you turn to look at your boyfriend, your chests now pressed against each other to look at him staring just past you at his phone, a light pink blush tinting his ears.

“a hamilton kid i see..” you tease playfully noticing how he flushed even deeper.

“o-oi shut up, my- my mom set it for me ok?” he tries to say, his excuses unheard as you burst into laughter tired of holding it in.

“we- well at least pick it up,” you say between laughs.

“fine. hello?” he says as he answers the call. “oh- but today, no i understand. of course. ok ill be right there.”

as he shifts you look at him all of a sudden concerned, you didn’t want your boyfriend overworking himself afterall.

“darling is everything ok?” you ask afraid of the answer. then you notice how hes not meeting your eyes and how hes tapping his knee with his pointer finger. his little tell he was trying to hold in laughs. “oh haha very funny semi now drop the act can we please just go back?” you try to reason.

“oh but getting u annoyed like this is so cute >w<“ he laughs seeing you grumble about how he was ‘so annoying’ as you turn to ignore him.

“oh shut up.”

“make me :p”

“maybe i will,” you say before stuffing a pillow in his mouth and leaning your head against it. “now enjoy the movie.” </3

HES SO PRETTY OML 🤩🤤

ohmygod now its time for my last texts for this event ahhh

OK I HOPE U ENJOYED SORRY THIS WAS SO LATE SHDGSH

[passiontaee]

agust d | m

pairing: yoongi x jeongguk

genre: slice of life

ratings: m

warnings: got some smutty smoot in here ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

word count: 7381

summary: jeongguk is a student and yoongi is a popular underground rapper. jeongguk suddenly becomes obsessed with yoongi thinking it’s because he admires yoongi so much. but after getting to talk to him after serendipitously meeting jeongguk starts wondering if it’s really admiration or something a little more. plus, he sucks yoongi’s dick. many times.

a/n: my first drabble/one shot with smut >:) my best friend doesn’t call me the smut god for no reason

also here’s 7k of yoonkook, ive never written this much in my life so yall are welcome :)

↬ s.

“Guess who’s your best friend?”

Jeongguk turns to look at Taehyung in confusion, but zeroes in on the two slips of paper he sees between his fingers. His instinctual reaction is to make grabby hands at him to see what treasures his best friend is bringing for him, but as he makes an attempt to grab the slips, Taehyung jerks his hand back at the last minute, giggling evilly. Jeongguk hates him. 

“You would be if you let me see what’s in your hand?”

“Hm. Yeah probably. Here,” He’s sporting a shit eating grin and Jeongguk is momentarily a little afraid of what he’s got up his sleeve—Taehyung is always finding ways to get them fucked up in a variety of ways and it’s to the point where Jeongguk doesn’t even question it anymore—but he takes one of the slips as Taehyung makes sure the other is still in his possession. Weird flex, but okay. He focuses on the slip in his hand, staring at it before it registers what holy artifact he’s wielding in his possession. 

Agust D tickets.

Taehyung, his actual best friend in the whole universe, has managed to snag two tickets to Agust D’s next performance. 

“If I was into you I’d get on my knees and suck your dick right now,” he stares up at his best friend with literal sparkles in his eyes. Truly, Taehyung is a rare breed of best friend. 

“I mean, you haven’t heard of broblows?”

“Taehyung I’m not sucking your dick.”

Said male holds his hands up in surrender, but his smile is still bright as he stares at Jeongguk, who looks starstruck and amazed. “Yes, but who got you Agust D tickets? You can suck his instead, that’s fine,”

Jeongguk chokes as Taehyung continues. “You know, since you yourself said the D in Agust D stands for dick,”

“I did not!”

“Explain why your YouTube search history is ‘compliations of Agust D’s bulge’ then Jeon. You’re not fooling anyone,” Taehyung leans in to pinch at Jeongguk’s cheek, causing the younger to whine in complaint. How dare Taehyung call him out like this? He swats at him, only making Taehyung laugh more. Pouting, he turns his attention back to the ticket, only for his eyes to bulge out of his head. Taehyung looks at him, momentarily concerned. Opening his mouth to ask what was wrong, but is interrupted by Jeongguk answering without prompting. 

“The show is tonight!” He squawks, shooting up and shoving Taehyung away. Almost in a panic as he runs over to his closet. “I don’t have anything to wear,” this is a big deal; he’s meeting his idol and there’s no way he’s walking into the venue looking crusty. Kim Taehyung had lost his mind. 

“Alas! That’s the second part of the surprise! Since I love you so much, I managed to go shopping during my time out and I personally bought you something to wear!” he grins, brighter, and points to the door. “It’s in my room though, so go fetch!”

Jeongguk’s sure if he was into Taehyung he’d be on his knees right now. 

“There’s so many people in here,” Jeongguk huffs, though stays close to Taehyung. Nearly glued to his back as the elder navigates through the crowd of bodies. He’s already feeling a little exposed in what Taehyung bought for him to wear. Sure, he knows he wears a lot of bland colors—a variety of blacks and whites—but Taehyung had decided he’s getting fucked tonight and had thrown leather pants at him and a snug fitting white shirt. To flaunt your teeny tiny waist, was his excuse, but Jeongguk isn’t at an Agust D concert to get fucked. Unless Agust D himself is throwing out dick then he’s all for it maybe. He wants to cry, but this is a dream come true so he knows he better enjoy this moment because who knows when he’s going to be able to see Agust D again. This close. Thank goodness he’s got a rich best friend, because he’d never thought he’d be getting backstage tickets to see him either. 

“Are you nervous?” Taehyung whispers into his ear, reaching for his hand to hold. It’s a common thing he does whenever he senses Jeongguk being uneasy and he’s honestly grown used to it. It’s comforting really, and Taehyung is very perceptive to him. Jeongguk nods though at the question, and Taehyung squeezes his hand comfortingly. “That’s okay. I’d be nervous too if it was like RM or something up there. Agust D is pretty good too though,” he jokes, but everyone and their mother knows how much of a slut Taehyung is for the rapper RM. There’s a lookalike at their school who works in the Literature department as a TA that he was trying to lure into his bed that Jeongguk had met before. Namjoon’s pretty nice. Too nice for Taehyung and far too pure for him. But the words bring him comfort, and he even cracks a smile. 

“How much longer til the show starts?” He can’t remember what the bouncer had said, but there’s other people performing. Opening acts from smaller artists that nobody’s really paying much attention to. Some are, but others are only here for the main event. 

“Mmmm, maybe half an hour. Give or take a few minutes. I dunno though, these opening acts are pretty sick,” he praises, looking up at the stage at someone who’s up there rapping. He’d seen this person before, knew him from one of his music appreciation classes. Park Chanyeol was pretty popular around campus anyways. 

The opening acts come and go, and by the time Agust D comes up they’re already feeling the hype from the previous artists. Not as good as the main event, but him and Taehyung are a bit biased anyways. Jeongguk feels a little more loose, less tense, and he’s sure that Taehyung is probably ready to jump on that stage and rap with Agust D. Leave it to Taehyung to get hype and pull something like that. But thankfully, he doesn’t and Agust D safely arrives onstage. As the opening beats to one of his popular songs begins to play, Jeongguk freezes, a look of excitement and astonishment on his face from being so excited and honored to be here, in this moment, with his best friend as he watches his idol explode on stage. Syllables flying out of his mouth as he raps about his dreams, his ambitions, and their fucked up society. He follows along, grinning the entire time, with sparkles in his eyes as he stares up at Agust D as if he were God himself. He’s having the time of his life, making eye contact occasionally as the ball of fiery energy moves across the stage, accent pouring through with his cut through cyphers. Jeongguk can feel his heart thundering in his chest during all three songs, though it picks up when it’s all over, an Taehyung is bouncing beside him as he follows a group of fans to Agust D’s backstage area. Adrenaline bursts through his body, yet so does a small sense of dread and a bit of fear. He would be meeting his idol. In the flesh. He feels like he’s about to faint. 

“Agust D is so cool! Oh my God, I want to have his babies!” a group of girls squeal as their friend shouts this. Taehyung elbows Jeongguk lightly in the ribs, smirking. 

“Don’t you want to have his babies too?” His eyebrows wag suggestively, and Jeongguk turns beet red and ducks his head. 

“H-hyung that’s biologically impossibl—”

“Next!” A woman with wire framed glasses looks over at them, the group of girls disappearing into the room. It’s their turn next, and said woman eyes them suspiciously almost. They shuffle forward, prompting her to ask their names. 

“Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jeongguk. My friend is his biggest fan,” Taehyung blabs. The woman mutters a calm ‘that’s nice’ and nods, peering inside the room. About ten minutes pass before the girls exit, all flustered and giggly. She then turns to them with a grave expression on her face.

“Don’t touch him, no photos. Do not be lewd or anything either. Be respectful and don’t be in there too long. There’s more people behind you so ten minutes max.” She sounds as though she’s reciting from a script, but steps aside to allow them inside. He allows Taehyung to lead the way, not wanting to make a fool of himself. He would be positively mortified if he stumbled and fell on his face in front of Agust D. So it’s best to allow Taehyung to meet him first. No big deal. 

He’s not what Jeongguk expects. 

Yes, he’d seen him up close and personal from the front row, but seeing him now is entirely different. He’s no longer in his stage attire and has dressed down into an oversized hoodie with a baseball cap covering his ash blue hair, staring lazily at his phone as he sits on a couch. Jeongguk is sure he’s seeing an angel right now, and is unable to sit and admire the tiny man because Taehyung decides, then and there, to open his mouth and introduce them. 

“Hello! Oh man, it’s so nice to meet you! I’m Kim Taehyung,” he pulls Jeongguk from behind him, and points at him. “This is my best friend, Jeon Jeongguk. He’s a huge fan.” The blue haired man looks up at them lazily, staring the two men down, then moves to stand. Making his way over to them and holds out a hand for them to shake. Taehyung takes the bait and shakes his hand excitedly but Jeongguks stares at it stupidly. Agust D just blinks at him, waiting for Jeongguk to snap out of his stupidity and just shake his hand. Taehyung, meanwhile, has shuffled away with a sly grin, heading over to the refreshments table. It takes Jeongguk a few moments to buffer before he’s embarrassed, and shakes the man’s hand. 

“Sorry,” his voice is soft. He doesn’t catch the quirk of the lips from the rapper who watches him, moving to slide his phone in his pants pocket, then his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. He takes in Jeongguk’s appearance, seemingly pleased, and shakes his head. 

“Your friend said you’re a fan, so it’s no big deal. It’s not the worst thing someone’s done when they meet me,” he’s reassuring and Jeongguk wants to dissolve on the spot. Instead, he brings his head back up to make eye contact, meeting Agust D’s intense gaze. His mouth goes dry as he struggles to formulate a sentence. A coherent one at that. 

“I uh, your music is really good.” Nailed it. It’s not very eloquent, but the rapper seems to not mind it. Seemingly amused at the blubbering idiot in front of him. 

“Yeah? What’s your favorite song?” This gets the cogs in his brain turning as he tries to cypher through the endless soundtrack of Agust D songs in his head, playing them and trying to figure out if he’s even got a favorite. But he finds one and settles on it. 

“I like all your stuff, really. Your music just speaks to me on a deeper level. The lyrics are really raw and authentic and anybody who knows music can tell that you did it all by yourself. You don’t sugar coat either. You’ve got some lighter stuff too, and sometimes you sing, but there’s just this intensity in your raps that just really hit me in my chest. Like in your song, First Love. It’s a really emotional piece and it just. . .I dunno. It’s really good. All of your stuff is,” he sounds like a blubbering idiot, but Agust D looks thoughtful. Pleased with his answer and analysis. Jeongguk doesn’t think that anything he said makes sense, but Agust D seems pleased. 

“Your friend’s right, you really are a fan,” there’s a grin on his face, and Jeongguk is unsure how to interpret it but something tells him he’s scored major brownie points with his favorite artist. 

“That was the shortest ten minutes of my life,” Taehyung complains, bumping into Jeongguk who’s trying his hardest to stick the straw in his matcha. Grumpy because he agreed. It indeed was the shortest ten minutes of his life, but Agust D seemed impressed with him and they had a good conversation. A conversation he wanted to continue, but his time had been up so he’d had to begrudgingly cut the conversation short and leave. Much to his chagrin. 

“You were on your phone the entire time,” He fusses, bringing the straw up to his lips. Taehyung shakes his head, seemingly offended but Jeongguk knows he’s not. 

“Yeah, to give you time to suck his dick, but obviously that didn’t work.” Cue Jeongguk choking on his drink. They continue walking, heading back to their shared apartment when something slams into his back. He barely is able to process it, turning around and catching someone in a beanie and facemask. Confused and hesitant, he tries to see under the mask, hiked up beneath sunglasses. 

“May I help you?”

The person shuffles a little to grab something out of their coat pocket, pulling out a slip of paper and shoves it in his chest. Jeongguk has little time to process it and ask what this was for before the person turns and walks briskly the opposite way. He’s confused, but unfolds the paper to see what’s on it. 

An address. A phone number. No name thought? The script is a little messy but he can make out what it says. 

Text me. I’d like to meet up and talk some more. -AD

Taehyung, he can feel, bounces behind him. Trying to peer at the cryptic message left by the shady person but Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little. Was Agust D trying to get in contact with him? 

“What is it?” Taehyung whines, trying to make a grab for the paper, but Jeongguk shakes his head and shoves it in his pocket. 

“Nothing. Just a note from a girl in my lit class,” he lies, but Taehyung buys it. Grinning and wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ohohohoho, which one?”

Calling. . .

Calling . . .

“Hello?” A smooth voice picks up on the second ring and Jeongguk gulps at the sound. Indeed, it is Agust D and indeed, this person had gifted him with his phone number. 

“H-how’d you find me?”

“Oh, that was easy. There’s not many Jeon Jeongguk’s in town and you’re pretty popular. All I had to do was search for you on Naver and boom, got you. It was fairly easy, honestly. I also searched for your friend too, just in case,” This makes Jeongguk a little flustered, as he hadn’t expected Agust D to go into such depth trying to find out where he was and get in touch with him. He’s a little more than fanboying right now. “But, I wanted to continue our conversation some more. You know your stuff,”

“Yeah, I’m a music major so I kind of have to,” he blurts, clutching his phone like a lifeline. The man on the other end makes a noise of surprise. 

“Ahhh, music huh? I majored in that too in college. College was meh, but music made it a little better. How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty two.”

“So young. . .,” there’s a sigh on the other end. “I can’t talk for long, but we should meet up at the address I gave you. Sorry for shoving it in your chest like that, I tried to be a little secretive,”

“Wait, that was you?”

“Why would I send someone else to do my dirty work? Of course it was me. Why, are you shocked?” There’s a smirk in his tone that Jeongguk hears quite well, and he goes quiet at it. Chosing to ignore the fact that he’s being teased. 

“When do you want to meet?” He responds instead. There’s a pause and a rustling of paper, before Agust D clicks his tongue. 

“I’m free tomorrow afternoon. Are you?”

“Yeah, I get out of class at noon.”

“Perfect. Meet me then and we can go get coffee or something,” Jeongguk’s delusional mind races and clenches on the idea of going on a date with the famed Agust D, but he knows that logically this is just them going out to get coffee and discuss music. That’s it, that’s literally all this is. But the delulu in him is jumping out very loudly and he’s making it more than what he is in his head. 

He’s a little chilly, but it’s worth it. 

Standing outside the building, a small hole in the wall coffee shop in a quieter part of town—the address on the slip of paper—Jeongguk patiently waits for Agust D to show up. So nervous he feels nauseous. The type of nauseated that he knows he’s not going to vomit, but at the same time he still feels that it’s possible. Nervous to make a blunder and nervous to sit and talk to the man that’s the background of his computer. Who he idolizes far too aggressively than he should. But luckily he doesn’t have to wait long, because he’s approached and grabbed by the arm, pulled inside wordlessly. He knows who it is almost immediately and makes no attempt to scramble away. Instead, he tries to memorize how the hand feels wrapped around his forearm—larger than he’d anticipated—and the strength behind the pull. It’s gentle, but firm. Commanding almost. He’s sat at a table in a far corner and Agust D moves to sit across from him. Pulling the mask he’d been wearing down and under his chin, his round cheeks on full display. Jeongguk thinks his brain just melted. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I was on the phone with my manager,” the first thing that comes out of his mouth is an apology. An apology. He almost blurts out that it’s an honor to wait on him and that he’d willingly wait on him hand and foot if he asks, but doesn’t. Instead, he slides his cold hands between his warm thighs to warm them up, chuckling sheepishly. 

“Oh, it’s no problem. I wasn’t waiting very long.” He’d really only been waiting maybe five minutes, but he’d wait an hour in the cold for him. He doesn’t admit this though. The ash haired man seems okay with this, pulling out a menu to look at. Jeongguk stares at him, wordlessly. Still unable to believe this is happening. He’s probably staring for maybe three minutes before Agust D speaks up, but doesn’t look at him. 

“I don’t think I’m on the menu,” 

Jeongguk, flabbergasted, opens and closes his mouth like a fish, dropping his eyes and staring down at his lap like a scolded child. Ignoring the soft laugh that comes from across him as the horror fills him. What is he, a stupid, starstruck teenage girl? 

“Here. There’s only one menu and I know what I want. You can get whatever, I don’t mind paying.”

He looks up then staring at the laminated menu slid in front of him for him to look at. On it are an assortment of drinks and snacks, along with pictures. Small ones of the various drinks, the signature drinks in each category. He’s still a little clueless about coffee, so he searches and successfully finds the frappe-like drinks. A safe choice, because he doesn’t want to look even more stupid in front of his idol. When he finalizes what he wants, he looks over at Agust D, who’s typing away on his phone. Seemingly feeling his gaze, he then proceeds to turn his phone off and place is face down on the table. Away and out of sight. His attention then focuses on Jeongguk. 

“So, you’re a student, you’re twenty two, and you’re majoring in music. Your best friend is Kim Taehyung and you’re my biggest fan? What else should I know about you then? Or well, what do you want to know about me?” He brings his hands up to lock beneath his chin, both elbows on the table. Jeongguk stares at him, stares at his face, then moves down to his hands, and lastly to the table top as he squirms. He knows quite a bit about him, but isn’t sure what he should ask first. 

“Uh. . .what’s your favorite food?”

The question is sudden and makes Agust D laugh a little, taken off guard. Jeongguk wants to cry at how his eyes disappear and his smile brightens when he laughs. This is unfair.

“You’re my biggest fan and you don’t know my favorite food? Jeongguk-ah, I’m disappointed,” he teases, but Jeongguk thinks for a moment he’s serious and stiffens. But then relaxes, mentally scolding himself for being so sensitive. Goddamnit. 

“Haha, right,” he gives a light chuckle, kind of nervous. Agust D senses this and leans over, playfully petting his arm. 

“Relax, yeah? No need to be all uptight and stuff. You don’t have to be so scared to talk to me. I’m not going to bite or anything,” he’s reassuring, voice soft and even offers a smile. Jeongguk tries to relax a little, knowing he’s right. He can’t be acting like he has something stuck up his ass. 

“Oh, and you don’t have to call me by my stage name either. Call me Yoongi for now on.”

Yoongi. 

He’s really scored brownie points?

“So yeah, I really think that the pop version of hip hop is a joke. Idols don’t even right their own damn raps so it’s not even real hip hop. And the concepts? Disgusting. Offensive. Electric fucking chair,” Yoongi’s more animated with a bit of caffiene in his system, Jeongguk notices. So is he, but he’s still on his first frappe and is still loosening up by the time Yoongi breaches coffee number two. It’s honestly exciting to see, and though they came here to talk about music, there’s not been much music talk. Mostly Yoongi asking about what he does on a daily, and how his classes are. He’s observant and seemingly interested, and the attention makes Jeongguk a little shy but also it excites him. Never before had he imagined being this close with his idol to the point of getting coffee and sitting and chatting like this. This must be a dream come true?

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Next time you listen to like fucking Seventeen or something, pay attention to their rapping, then think about their rapping and pay close attention to it. Then compare it to like Jay Park or Park Chanyeol or something. Huge difference,” he points out and Jeongguk knows what he’s talking about, but begs to differ, considering he’s a vocalist.

“Mmmm, yeah but different styles. Pop is more vocally, if that makes sense, and what you guys do is more rap based. So of course the pop version is more ‘bubblegum’ because of the style. I don’t think pop is meant to be as hardcore as like hip hop but I do agree some groups don’t execute it well. I’m speaking from the vocalist side of the spectrum,” Yoongi looks at him then, surprised. 

“You sing?”

Suddenly, Jeongguk wants to be the floor. The entire fucking floor. Just melt into the floor and become the floor yes.

 “. . .yes?”

“How come you didn’t tell me? Honestly, you look like the singing type. And you’ve got a soft voice so honestly I kind of called it. You don’t give off rapper vibes and you’ve got a nice body that looks like you dance, but the vocals thing is kind of obvious,” he brings his cup to his lips to take a sip, as if what he said wasn’t a big deal. It’s a big fucking deal. Yoongi just grilled him, read him, and delivered a verdict. 

“I have a nice body?” He stupidly blurts out. Yoongi looks at him then, eyes sharp as he takes in the visible aspects of his body. 

“Yeah. Does nobody tell you that?”

Well yeah, but not famous people who he’d willingly let step on him. 

“Yeah, sometimes.” Yoongi hums at this, thoughtfully. 

“I bet you’re pretty popular with the girls on campus.” 

Jeongguk has never been more flustered in his life. It’s not a lie, but in reality he’s popular with everybody. 

“I guess?”

Yoongi simply nods thoughtfully, but then smiles at him. It’s almost uncharacteristic but Jeongguk is still blinded by it. It’s even a little sly, and he wonders what the rapper has up his sleeve. 

“I’ve got a performance tomorrow night, you and Taehyung should come.” Jeongguk would be a fucking idiot to turn this down. He’s got a paper due in three days but fuck school. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I can get you backstage too. But you’ll be special guests, so you can hang around a little longer. Actually, I’ll make sure you guys get to stay the latest,” Yoongi’s so powerful that Jeongguk almost whines at this. Wow, God is good. 

“Uh, okay that’s. . .yeah that would be amazing actually,” he even cracks a smile. At this, Yoongi leans over, a little in his personal space, but Jeongguk doesn’t mind. He can smell his shampoo from this close distance as well. 

“After that though, do you want to come over? To my place? We can talk more and stuff.”

Jeongguk swears at that moment his brain shuts off and powers down. The Windows shutdown sound effect has never been louder.

“You must’ve really sucked his dick good to get us better tickets and VIP passes for free,” Taehyung hisses in his ear as they’re finally led backstage for their special VIP treatment. Nearly everyone is gone but Jeongguk knows for a fact that Yoongi isn’t. Neither is his team, but he knows that they won’t bother them. Taehyung is just here as a cover up, because he’s pretty sure that Yoongi had invited him over for one thing and one thing only. 

He’s totally not afraid. 

Sure, one should be honored that their idol seems a bit interested in them and wants to hook up, but this is Yoongi. This is highly important and it had been a while really since his last hookup. He definitely had to make sure he was prepared for this. He didn’t even know Yoongi was into guys, to be quite honest. So not only was this a surprise, but it was a fucking honor. This special occasion called for his best outfit; more leather courtesy of Taehyung, and an over-sized sweater. Pairing sexy with cute? Perfect. Something in him tells him he’s overthinking this invitation and there’s nothing happening, but the suggestive tone in Yoongi’s voice at the invite tells him otherwise. He’s really about to get his back blown out.

“I haven’t even touched him, you freak,” Taehyung sticks his tongue out at this, wiggling it and causing Jeongguk to smack his arm. 

“Please never do that again,” he whines, but Taehyung just laughs, shrugging off the request and marches right into the backstage room. This time, Yoongi seems to be expecting them. Not on his phone and is instead sitting on the couch inside the room, his hairdresser fixing his hair. For what, they don’t know, but his eyes zero in on the two guests as soon as they enter. 

“Hey! Thanks for the tickets again. You’re the best,” Taehyung praises, though steps aside for Yoongi to see Jeongguk, knowing that despite his politeness and hospitality, he’s really more interested in Jeongguk. Which is fine, Taehyung’s still trying to slide to RM’s dm’s anyways. But it’s only fair to thank him for allowing them both to come, though this is mostly for Jeongguk. 

“No problem. You guys seemed to have a good time last time, so I decided to treat you again. I felt bad that we couldn’t finish our conversation last time,” he looks at Jeongguk again, though they both know that they finished that conversation. Jeongguk bites his lip.

They talk for a while, mostly sharing banter and mostly Taehyung embarrassing poor Jeongguk, but it earns laughter from Yoongi so Jeongguk feels it’s a win win situation for him. But then Taehyung 'mysteriously' leaves them, saying that he'll see Jeongguk later and that he's got an exam in the morning. Jeongguk sees the look that Taehyung and Yoongi share and wonder if Taehyung is in on this plot? But it results in him being left alone with Yoongi, and is the reason why Jeongguk finds himself at Yoongi's apartment later, with a lapful of the rapper who's tongue is shoved down his throat. It escalated quickly, but he can't find it in him to care. Not with Yoongi grinding down directly against his crotch, growling into his mouth. Jeongguk is well aware that he’s a switch, and isn’t sure whether Yoongi plans on fucking him or expects to be fucked, but either way he’s prepared for both scenarios. 

“Take. . .this off. . fuck,” hands grope at his sweatshirt, greedy and cold. The feeling of the coolness of Yoongi’s fingers on the sliver of skin revealed from him tugging at the sweater makes Jeongguk’s breath hitch. It’s so delicious, so delightful. He fumbles a little as he blindly removes his hands from where they’d been digging into the rapper’s hips, rocking them back and forth against his own, to pull at his sweater. Pulling away from the softness of his lips to remove it and toss it away. 

In the split second of him removing the sweater, he finds his back pressed into the couch, Yoongi hovering over him. Eyes taking in the newly revealed skin now his for the moment. Curious yet experienced hands brush against the smooth, untainted skin. A blank canvas that Yoongi feels he’s free to mark and do as he pleases with. Jeongguk stares back up at him, then down at the pale hands against his chest. Watching as they ghost over the definition of his abdominal muscles, and up to his pecs. Pointer finger of both hands circling the small areolas before brushing against the pinks nipples, already pebbled from the earlier stimulation. He wants to be mortified with the moan that he lets out, Yoongi managing to figure out so early how sensitive his nipples are, but the way Yoongi looks at him has that dissipating. The look in his eyes is hungry, and a little mean. The sadist in him loves it. 

“Ah, you’re sensitive huh? Make that noise again for me,” Yoongi’s voice lowers as he focuses on tweaking and pinching the nubs. Thumb and forefinger working together as his head moves down. Peppering warm kisses from the hemline of Jeongguk’s pants across his abs. Over the ridges and grooves as he works his way up. Ignoring how the younger squirms beneath him, bucking up into his touch and whining out squeaky moans as Yoongi gets meaner, less gentle with his musings. At some point he starts biting the skin, sucking hickeys into the smoothness there to mark his territory. Jeongguk’s in heaven, if Yoongi can’t tell. 

“Hyung p-please,” he begs, unsure what for. Yoongi finds this amusing, chuckling at the desperation in his voice. 

“Please what? What do you want hyung to do?”

Honestly, he doesn’t know. He’s unsure if he wants more of this or if he wants something else. As he’s trying to figure this out, he feels something wet on his left nipple, then a bit of force. When he looks down, he sees fluffy ashy hair. 

Ah. 

A leg wraps around Yoongi’s waist as he grinds up into him, rutting desperately as his cock swells further into his jeans. It’s uncomfortable and he’s leaking precum. But he dares not tell Yoongi to stop, not at the way his tongue flicks over the pebbling nub like no tomorrow, sending jolts down his spine. Pleasant jolts of lust, of desire. It’s over moments later when Yoongi withdraws, sitting up on Jeongguk’s hips and reaches down to remove his own shirt, tossing it away and bending back down before Jeongguk has a chance to be amazed at the litheness of his body; to take in the pale, pristine skin. He’d seen a tattoo or two in the process of Yoongis stripping and Yoongi leaning back down, mouthing at his neck hotly and whispering filth into his skin. His body is on fire and he’s rock hard. This is a problem that needs to be fixed. 

But he can feel the thickness of the rapper’s own erection against his abdomen. Can feel how aroused Yoongi is and is pleased he’d managed to get him as horny as he himself was. He wants to leave marks too, thinks it’s unfair that Yoongi’s greedy mouth is leaving a trail of destruction up and down his body. He plans in his mind to return the favor later, but honestly doesn’t see a problem wielding battle scars from letting Yoongi take him in such a lewd manner. He’d dreamed about this far too many times and wondered was this a one time thing that would mean nothing, but in the time he’d spent in diving in headfirst into the Agust D fandom and in the short span of two weeks of knowing him, he was sure that perhaps he was a bit more than attached, and hoped it meant something deeper than just a quick screw on the couch. As great as this was, he knew he’d be devastated if that’s all this was. 

Hands are at the front of his jeans as Yoongi’s mouth presses a trail of kisses up from his neck over his cheek and to his mouth, chuckling against his cupid’s bow. Jeongguk finds himself giggling by reflex as well, hearing the snap of his button and the sound of his belt being unbuckled. 

“You ever had your cock swallowed?”

The question confuses him—is he asking had he ever had a blowjob?—and he regrets stopping to think, because when he zones back in with an answer, Yoongi’s scooting down his legs, pulling him by his arms back into a seated position. Moving to kneel in front of him on the floor, focused on getting his pants and boxers as far away from his body as possible. Jeongguk just watches, a little numb and unsure how to help. Yoongi seems to get it though, and shuffles the useless articles of clothing down his legs. Moving closer and leaning in to nose along the length of his cock. Hands on his thighs for leverage. Jeongguk should be embarrassed, but he’s not—oddly enough. He’s far too aroused to be embarrassed about having Yoongi’s mouth so close to him like this. 

Yoongi seems to get tired of that, wanting to dive right in. Without using his hands, he stares directly up at Jeongguk, making eye contact, and licks from his balls up to the glistening head of his cock, slowly. Taking in the taste and the texture before bringing a hand to hold it upright. Jeongguk swears, tilting his head back as Yoongi repeats the motions, eyes dropping to focus on the task at hand. Jeongguk spreads his legs apart for better leverage, almost sure he’s going to end up cumming right down Yoongi’s throat in the process of all this. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” he sighs as the rapper starts to wrap his lips around the tip, lapping up the excess wetness coming from the slit then sucks. Slowly, gently. Tongue cushioning the head as he slurps all over it. Sloppy, wet. The sounds echo up to his ears and Jeongguk just groans; the feeling and the sounds a bit too much for him. He wants to grab Yoongi by the head and fuck his throat but they’re not there just yet. Close, but not quite.

After a few moments of teasing, flicking his tongue through his slit and rubbing it all over the bulbous head, he starts to take him inch by inch into his mouth. His cock doesn’t fit all the way initially, but Yoongi seems to know what to do about this. His left hand wraps around what doesn’t fit and he jerks in tandem with his sucking. Bobbing his head up and down. He knows what he’s doing, and Jeongguk wonders should he be a little ticked that Yoongi’s done this before or thankful that he’s not a noob slobbering all over his dick like a teething baby. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t mind if he was new at this, because either way he’s sure he’d enjoy it. One of his hands shoots down to tangle into the pale blue locks shielding his view, lulled by the wet suckling noises and the suction from that heavenly mouth. Swears, praises, and filth pours out of his mouth, eyes scrunching closed as his hips involuntarily buck into the rapper’s mouth. He’s so horny it’s pitiful, and nearly blows his load when Yoongi removes his hand, easing him down his throat. So this is what he meant by swallowing cock.

“F-fuck yeah,” he stammers out, growling a little at the end because it feels heavenly. He’s not sure just yet who’s getting fucked but he knows for certain that if he’s doing the fucking he hopes Yoongi’s ass feels a lot like his mouth. Hot, warm. Tight. He’s nearly positive he’s going to cum like this. It wouldn’t be too bad, he thinks as Yoongi swallows around his length. Yoongi stays still for a moment, before pulling off with a sharp gasp, coughing a little and taking his erection again, jerking it sloppily. Using his own saliva as lubrication. 

“You like that?” Jeongguk nods stupidly. Bucking into that fist desperately. “You gonna cum?” He nods again. Yoongi seems pleased by this, and takes in a breath really quickly. Preparing himself for what he’s about to do. 

“Fuck my throat til you cum then. And then after I’ll return the favor.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know how to take this at the moment, too busy trying to get Yoongi’s mouth back on him, but knows that he’s glad he’d attempted to prep himself earlier. Yoongi takes that moment to give him what he wants, starting slowly from the tip and moving down. Inch by inch just like before but it’s a little quicker than last time. He gags, but stays down a little longer. Digging his nails into Jeongguk’s meaty thighs as if to tell him to go ahead. Jeongguk can feel his throat relax, and takes that as the green light to start. So he moves his hand back to his hair, his other following closely behind to tangle into the slightly dry strands. Getting a grip first before he rolls up, sending a sharp thrust down the rapper’s throat. He hears a gag, feels the hands tightening on his thighs almost as a warning, but for a moment he feels daring and does it again. And again, and again until he’s got a decent rhythm, chasing his orgasm which is shockingly close. He’s not even mad, considering this is the best blowjob he’s had in a while, and well. It’s Yoongi. He’s lasted longer than he’d anticipated, he thinks, but it only takes a few thrusts before his body tenses and he hisses out a sharp Yoongi as he cums in spurts down the rapper’s throat. Holding him there for a moment before Yoongi’s shoving at him. 

He releases him then, but Yoongi doesn’t shove him away. No, what he does instead is move to lick up his release, then sucks the remnants directly from his cockhead. Jeongguk’s sensitive, but that doesn’t make him shove Yoongi away.

When Yoongi finishes, he looks up at him, licking what had spilled onto the crease of his lip away as he makes eye contact with the younger, who’s trying to get a grip. Chest heaving up and down as he pants. Yoongi moves to stand, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him to stand. He nearly stumbles, but Yoongi either doesn’t pay attention or chooses not to comment. Instead focused on pulling his head down so that he can lick into his mouth, allowing Jeongguk to taste himself on his tongue. 

“Get all the way out of your clothes,” he breathes the command against Jeongguk’s mouth, and he wastes no time kicking the clothes away. Allowing himself to be led by Yoongi’s mouth as the rapper starts to fumble with his own belt, backing them towards his bedroom—or so Jeongguk thinks. 

“You two are so gross,” Taehyung complains, sitting across from Jeongguk and Yoongi who’re cuddled up into each other. Its gross, really. Jeongguk rolls his eyes, leaning into Yoongi more who’s arm tightens around his waist to keep him close. Taehyung pouts. 

“Are you jealous that you didn’t meet RM and end up dating him?” Jeongguk’s playful, grinning cheekily at his fussy friend who just looks away, the answer obvious as he picks up his iced tea and loudly sips from it. 

“I’m actually really good friends with Namjoon, I can hook you guys up,” Yoongi tries to be helpful, reaching for a potato chip. Shoving it in his mouth. Both Jeongguk and Taehyung stare at him. Flabbergasted. Yoongi looks up at them slowly, back and forth between the two. 

“What?”

“Namjoon is fucking RM?!”

Yoongi looks confused. “No? Namjoon is RM. Wait, how do you know Namjoon?”

Taehyung lets out a screech which draws attention to them, grabbing his head in both hands and laying it on the table. Jeongguk simply laughs as Yoongi looks at them in confusion, obviously left out of the loop and mortified at the noise that came from Taehyung.“He’s our TA for our lit class. Taehyung’s been ogling him since he walked in and never put two and two together. Small fucking world,” Jeongguk cackles, reaching for his soda as Taehyung lays his head on the table, having what appears to be an existential crisis. Yoongi still doesn’t understand, but finds it funny nonetheless. 

“Hyung, please get me backstage tickets. I need them.”

“I don’t know about that. Not everybody hits it off backstage like we did. Plus, I think Namjoon likes someone else,” The look on Taehyung’s face is priceless. Even Jeongguk looks a little sad about that, but Yoongi laughs, shaking his head. 

“I’m kidding. We can do a double date or something. Just don’t be too much of a, whatever you are, or you might scare him away,”

“Do you mean a thirsty hoe?”

“Yeah that,”

“Guys, I’m right here,” Taehyung whines, straightening up. He thinks for a minute, before looking at Yoongi with puppy dog eyes. 

“Hyung pleaseeeee. I’ll love you forever,” he begs. Yoongi pretends to think about it, but acquises and hands him his phone. 

“Here’s his number. Don’t be weird about it or you might scare him away,” he instructs, but Taehyung simply snatches the phone and gets up, waddling away with it pressed to his ear. Yoongi sighs, then looks at Jeongguk. 

“You weren’t like this, were you?” he asks as Jeongguk shovels two fries into his mouth. He feels caught, nearly chokes, but then shakes his head as he washes it down with his soda. 

“No. I was less eager to meet you,” he admits, averting his eyes. “I was scared I’d fuck up and you’d hate me.”

“Nonesense,” Yoongi insists, stealing one of Jeongguk’s fries. Jeongguk rolls his eyes. 

“It’s not everyday you meet your idol, you know. I was scared I’d make a fool of myself and you’d kick me out or something,” Yoongi seems to think this over, but snorts. 

“You made a fool of yourself and I ended up fucking you until you screamed like a wanton bitch so honestly you had nothing to worry about.”

Jeongguk chokes on his soda, sputtering out and wheezing at this. Taehyung returns then, smirking as he slides back in the booth in front of them, handing over the phone. 

“I have a dick appointment with RM tomorrow at 7. Jeon, I need to borrow those leather pants you used when you and Yoongi-hyung fucked.”

Jeongguk chokes again.

↬ x.

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[pokeasleepingsmaug]

Feed You the Sky: Reworked Chapter 3

After managing to convince Ivar to give me back the reins, I think I might have gotten this chariot back in a better direction. Ivar was just too noble in the first version, and I think this is more believable. I would really appreciate feedback on this, if yall have time to read both versions and let me know which one you like better :) And a big thank you to @shesafreesoul not only for the original prompt, but for helping me realize that Ivar just wasn’t acting like Ivar in the original version of this chapter. I hope this one is better, even though I’m still not sure if I’m 100% satisfied with it. But it’s late, and I’m tired haha

Ivar rode at the front of his warriors, his brother Ubbe at his side. He was surprised to find himself longing for his younger days, for leading the great army like a storm upon the Saxons with all of his brothers. As always, a pang of deep regret flashed through him at the thought of Sigurd, but he pushed it aside. This was not the time for weakness. He was a son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and a king himself now. There was no room for weakness in his life.

He pushed these heavy things, these weaknesses, aside. This was a time for focus. The seat of King Egil's kingdom was in sight now, dawn breaking over it and bathing it in soft gold. Smoke drifted lazily from cooking fires, and he could just see the earliest stirrings beginning. They would be preparing their breakfasts now, maybe feeding their livestock.

He had pushed his men hard, kept them riding deep into the night and roused them again hours before dawn. They were tired, he knew, but the bloodlust that sang through him allowed no delay. He hungered for the warm stickiness of blood on his face, the jarring in his arm from blocking a lethal strike. He craved the rush of godlike power from delivering a killing blow.

The old familiar anger, his constant companion for as long as he could remember, simmered in his blood. He took those earlier regrets and channeled them into it. He would use them, turn his weakness into strength as he always did. The simmer turned to a rolling boil, ready to be unleashed. When it came upon him like this, there was no end to what he could achieve.

Ivar raised his ax with a savage howl, urging his horse forward, and set about destroying the peace of Egil's city. It was a large city, with strong fortifications, but it was lightly defended. Ivar knew most of Egil's troops were off on a raid somewhere, led by a man named Brynjar. His spies had returned nothing about the result of the raid, but he knew they would not be returning for a day or two, at the very soonest. This would be an easy morning's work.

Arrows rained down from the top of the walls, but they bounced harmlessly off his shield. “I am Ivar the Boneless, King of Kattegat and son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and you will open your gates and fight me like true men!” He buried the blade of his ax deep in the wooden walls, furious the gates would not open to him.

He wrenched his ax free as the gates swung outward, some violent god answering the prayer in his heart for bloodshed. It was not a smart move on Egil's part, but the small voice of reason in Ivar's head, the part that thought this must be a trap, was easy to ignore over the roaring of his blood in his veins. He would take this kingdom and make it part of his own. He would paint his face with the blood of King Egil and sit on his throne. He would lead the warriors of his enemy to victory once they were loyal to him, and he would drain every drop of blood from those who stood in his way.

Ivar's forces easily outnumbered King Egil's, and Ivar felt a momentary rush of disappointment. He knew this was a small kingdom and that most of its warriors were gone, but still he itched for a long, fierce battle. This one would be too easy. He turned to inspect his forces, cold blue eyes calculating. “Ubbe. Split the troops in half. Half will fight with us, and the rest will wait in reserve.”

Ubbe's light blue eyes were incredulous, and he sputtered in confusion. “But... Ivar, this will be an easy battle. King Egil's lands and wealth will belong to you before the morning ends.”

“It will be too easy. Men will fear me more if they hear how I conquered Egil with only half of my forces. And even this,” he waved a careless hand at the warriors assembled behind him, “is only a quarter of the forces I could muster, if I wanted. No. Men will say Ivar the Boneless commands a huge army, but that he is so fierce he needs only a small part of his entire force.” The look in his eyes was the primal anger Ubbe hadn't seen there since Ivar became king, and his voice was a growl. “I thirst for blood, Ubbe, and I will not share it with a man more than I need to.”

“Ivar, do you not think this is a trap? What man in his right mind, when outnumbered, would open his city gates?”

Ivar shrugged. “I do not care about his motivations, only about my victory.” He turned away from Ubbe, leaving his brother to deliver the order. Shaking his head in silent disapproval, Ubbe delivered the order to the chieftains. They were fighting men all, and those selected to wait in reserve were understandably angry.

With his selected fighters at his back, Ivar drove his chariot straight toward the approaching forces. Their number was pitifully small against his, but Ivar didn't care. Battle-hunger raged in him, sweet and irrestible as a siren's song, and he would gladly drown himself in a sea of hot blood if only he could taste its salt and iron on his thirsty lips.

The slaughter was quick and thorough, barely enough to satisfy him, but that didn't matter. Ubbe had found King Egil among the army, and he at least had killing the king to look forward to. He would sit on the man's throne, hands still warm and sticky with his blood. The thought made him almost giddy. He rested the full weight of his gaze on the old king, and saw him quail. Ivar knew he could be a frightening sight, but he was too far gone in the battle-haze to really control himself now.  A brutal death would be the best way to satisfy himself, to slake the rage threatening to eat him raw.

King Egil stood straight-backed, meeting his eyes squarely. His leather armor was old and ill-fitted, but had probably fit him when he was a young man. He knew the old man hadn't fought in many years, not since he took a wound in his leg. What Viking king didn't fight? This man didn't deserve to be king. Only the strong deserved that honor. Ivar was strong, despite the cruel way the gods crafted him. How dare this man call himself a king? He was a pretender. Ivar seethed.

The ax in his hand cried for the blood of the king, and Ivar could resist it no longer. He let it fly, screaming like a berserk, and he could almost feel the ax's satisfied sigh as it buried itself in the old man's ribs. He fell, losing his sword, and Ivar slithered toward him. He sat over the fallen king, leering, and ripped his ax free of the flesh. He dipped one hand in the fountain of blood bubbling from the gaping wound, and dragged his crimson fingers down his face.

The old man seemed to look through him. “Kára,” he croaked. Ivar shuddered, strangely satisfied by that one word. He had seen the life leave countless men, but none had ever called the name of the Valkyrie who came to collect them.

He nodded, savoring the strange chill that licked up his spine. “Yes, old man. Kára comes.”

[sowriteitalldown]

Dear Ana,

Man, why are you so mad? What the fuck did I do to you? Are you mad at me because I finally treated you the same harsh way you always treated me? Are you seriously mad at me because I talked to you the same way you used to talk to me each time I wanted to run to my ex again and again? Are you serious right now? Is that why you call me a bad friend? Or a fake friend? Because I was seriously trying for you to see the kind of strength you had, no, the potential you had to move on from someone as toxic as your partner? Like seriously, you guys were breaking up for like the 4th time because he was still immature for you! Like that's so sad especially when you guys been together for 10 years and he still acts like yall in high school, and the worse part is that you eat up all his lies or sweet talks!

You don't how awful it was to see you break over some kid who really doesn't appreciate for you and who you are and everything you’ve done together as partners! In all honesty, you must be dense as a rock if you can’t see that he has you around because you're his safe spot that he knows he can go to no matter how bad he's fucked up. Why? Because you’ll always always take him back. I don’t know what your mindset is with him, but it’s not healthy how high placed you put him in your life. It’s really off-putting, and you may not realize it, but it always came across that you preferred him over anyone including your close friends.

And I understand that you probably were very upset and hurt when I didn’t put the effort to be there for you. I tried, I really did. I still remember I wanted to hang out with you in person so we could communicate better because through text it always came off like I would piss you off regardless of what I said, but you would always ignore me. I know you were mad at me because I wasn’t telling you the things you wanted to hear after your break up. I just didn’t really bother because I knew that no matter how good or bad my advice was, you would have never taken it to heart. You would have still taken him back, and guess what? You fucking did. I knew it was hopeless, and yet, I found myself feeling disappointed and overly frustrated by you again.

But I was still going to be there for you like all the other times before. I know I probably came off like I wasn’t, but Ana, I have always been there for you through each break up (at least the ones you’ve told me). I can still remember the first time you guys broke up, I came in the band hall one morning and you were sitting in a chair, you were catatonic, this awful detached look on your face like you had died. It was terrible. But I was there. The second time you guys broke up, we were in band practice in the parking lot in the hot fucking sun. You finally showed up to practice, and you came to me and hugged me, and I asked if you were ok. When I asked that, your face broke for a second, about to cry, and you hid your face on my shoulder but you held it together and continued to practice like nothing had happened. Third time, I was in my room I saw the post that you guys weren’t together and I texted you if everything was ok. It wasn’t. And now this one, you told me while I was AWAY. I was in Mexico, dying of cold, and yet I wanted to vomit when I read your text because all I could think was about that horrible sight from your first break up. I was hella worried.

But it was just a pattern, I knew you were going to take him back because history has a funny way of repeating itself, and it did. Also, the communication between us faltered. You were so hesitant and secretive about this break up with me and I didn't get why? Because you knew I was going to tell you to get your shit together and move on for like the 100th time? Isn't that what really good friends do to one another? Never lie to one another? I wasn't lying when I said all those things to you, I knew you could move on from him but did you believe that? No, because you are so far up his ass. Sorry to say it like that, but you are. But you used to be this mean to me when I wanted to get back with Julie. And bitch, you know that hoe was crazy, and yet my dumbass would go back. But did I ever get mad at you for talking to me harshly like the best friend you are and supposed to be? No way. I would just be like 'You right, but imma go back lmao'. Then why did you get mad at me when I pulled that on you?

Was it because you were so used to me being soft on you? C'mon, you know I was. EVERYONE KNEW HOW SOFT I WAS. Too soft. For the love of God, I even fell in love with you, HOW SOFT COULD I GET??? lmao I get that I should have been there for you, I really tried, but it always seemed that you just hated me more whenever I talked about you moving on. I mean HELLO, that is what you're supposed to do after a breakup! I don't know man. This whole shit has been bothering me for the entire year. I DON'T KNOW WHAT WENT WRONG BECAUSE YOU CUT ME OUT. YOU DIDN'T COMMUNICATE WITH ME, YOU REFUSED TO. You had me in the dark, and I didn't know why. Do you not ever understand my feelings towards you? You were my everything, my other half, the only person I could trust with everything despite how awful I was? But you looked at me differently, you made me feel different. You were different. I loved you more than anyone in my life, and you had the nerve to cut me off like I was no one. You didn't even give me a chance, or breather to explain. Nothing. You dumped me. You kicked my heart in the ass and disappeared. You were a coward.

That's another thing. How could you betray me like that? How could you cut me out like a snap of a finger but not your lame ass boyfriend, who's hurt you WAYYYYYY more than I ever hurt you? He and I have the same timelapse in your life, about ten years. And in those ten years, who has hurt you the most? Me or Him? I have never disrespected your name, your life, your family, your blood, whatever! I never took you for granted, I always tried to give you the best. I always tried to treat you like you were my own girlfriend even though you never were. People used to think we were hella gay together because I was always so smooshy with you. I was whipped, everyone knew that. I wanted you to feel like I was a safe place you could always confide in, and laugh so much, and just be happy. And I think I did too good of a job because the second I wouldn't give you your way, you would always ignore me. And after I called you a fucking idiot on that last text for going back to him, guess what? You ignored me, as I had predicted.

Except here's the plot twist: I didn't come around to fix the obvious problem between us, which was that you were mad at me.

I acted like everything was fine, I even sent those text about HBD to your family members because I wanted to see if you were still going to be mad and you were. I never received a text back. Which was fine, I was letting you sulk in anger. But I was testing you, I was being dumbass, I was trying to see if you were going to confront me about what I had done wrong instead of the usual, me coming to you telling you about what I did wrong and then apologizing. But you never did. You didn't even bother. You didn't do the effort to talk to me about how you felt instead you were just like "you know what, fuck you, I don't need this shit in my life!" and blocked me so you could think you ended whatever bad friend I was.

No. You were the bad friend. I was just sooooo tired of the usual, you getting mad and I always looking for you whether it was my fault or your fault. It was always me fixing whatever bad was between us, I would always be the one to have to send a stupid ass fucking text about how it was obvious there was something wrong between us and we should fix it now because I valued our friendship over anything. Then you would finally express your issues, and I would finally understand what you were feeling, and how I could fix it and blah blah. But it was ALWAYS me. NEVER you. When did I ever receive a text from you like: "Hey, I think we should talk because there's something up between us?" NEVER. Even when I was mad at you, I would be the one to have to spell out to you to see why I was mad at you because you would always be oblivious to my feelings. It always felt like you didn't care about our friendship. It always felt like I was the one who was holding onto this friendship while you were just like whatever, if it fails it fails. And that's exactly what happened! The one time I didn't come looking for you to fix our problems, and you were like ">:O fuck you, Jenny! I'm cutting you off, you fake ass hoe!"

You will never never NEVER understand how hurt I was this fucking summer. Especially when I noticed you had unfriended me through our social medias. That felt like a bullet to the heart. Did you hate me that much to do that? Was I that awful? Was I a monster to you? No, I was not. Even now, I don't have the heart to call you a monster because the tragic side of me still thinks there is hope for you, that'll you'll come around and look for me, but that will never happen. Your pride is too big to see who truly values you as a person. Even now, if you ever find this. I am the one reaching out, I am the one typing this long ass post, so maybe one day you can contact me and we can have closure. Because I am not an idiot, I know this still bothers you. I've seen your post on facebook, and it's November of 2018. It's been about seven months since we last talked.

Maybe you're not even mad about your relationship. Maybe you're mad about something else. I will never fucking know because you NEVER communicated your feelings towards me. I would always have to ask you, and even then you would falter. This isn't a letter about me hating on you, this is a letter coming from the love I still have for you. Do you really think I am writing to you out of hate or out of love? I love you, you're still my best friend. You've helped me through a lot of tough shit in my life that I will never forget about. I don't want to feel these things for you, I don't want to keep thinking there is still good in you, that'll you'll wake up one day, and just try to talk with me. I don't want to feel any of that because that just makes me hold onto false hope. You just meant the world to me. At some point, you were my world. I just wish you wouldn't be so... aggressive? Like I wish you didn't hold onto shit with your dear life, and for once, try to work out. If you could work shit out with your boyfriend, I am 100% you could work out things with me... *sips tea* I'm jk, I ain't trying to be petty. I just want my best friend back.

I used to think that regardless of how bad it would get between us, we could get through anything. I mean we got through the whole love triangle shit in high school, and that was hella tough on me, you, and our relationships. But we still made it. But now, I don't know about that. I know that me being the dumbass, I would try to work things out, but I don't know about you. You're too hard headed lol and I am too soft. If you were still in my life, you would be shocked how incredibly soft I have become. I think the pain of this year changed me in excruciating ways. Not just the pain I went because of you, but other stuff from this year. I'm surprised I didn't kill myself, even my family was worried. It was just tough. Especially without you. The only person who I wanted to talk to was gone. I had to act like my own best friend and man that was tough, but I love me more than ever. Now, I know I can definitely pick myself up with just my own damn self. But it doesn't hurt having your friends, too. It always is better with friends.

Anyways, if you read this in a few days, weeks, or years, or never. I hope these words get by to you someday. I hope you know I will always love you despite everything. I don't know how to let go off you even when my heart knows you're bad, but maybe now I can understand how you've always felt with Gustavo. You and I love the bad in a person because we think we can change it, but hell nah, only they can fix it themselves.

If whatever happens, remember, I did, I do, and I will love you. Always.