#i also have to lock in and make some kind of art portfolio if i wanna get into like. any. program i actually wanna do 💀 which bites | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dairy-farmer · 2 years

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Damian draws Tim in porn-like scenarios with his head buried in a bush of hair from the base of a cock, reverse-cowgirl with his pussy being filled, etc. All very detailed photos- the photos of wheoever's fucking him is very unclear bur gradually gets more detailed. It's Damian, Jason, Dick, Kon, Clark, Bruce, Jon, anyone and everyone with a cock. This continues until Damian is over 18 and then someone finds it and makes everyone else aware of it. The drawings are all almost perfect, very realistic in size scars, etc, so scary realistic it almost seems like Damian took pictures as reference of all of them naked. (He didn't, he guessed) the only thing really wrong is... Tim doesn't have a pussy.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG !!!!!!!!!!! YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!!!!!!

the reveal i imagine would come from jon. he's the closes to damian, he has the most reason to be in damian's room and going through his things and maybe jon finds it one day.

and he's....enamored. after he works himself through the incredulous feeling and realization that wayne boys are bold.

he felt a weird twist in his stomach seeing drawings of his dad but that was overshadowed by what he feels seeing pictures- no, drawings (but they're good enough to be pictures) of him throat fucking his brother's best friend.

jon has known tim for awhile. sometimes he spends the night over at ma and pa's in the summer when jon is also there. he spends the night in kon's room because the two of them are close. he recalls growing up and hearing the rumors about how tim and kon were more than just friends even though jon had denied it when jon asked him if they were true.

jon had always felt some kind of way about it, the idea of kon and tim being together, getting married. it made him sort of excited, the thought of being related to damian in that kind of way.

sure they're friends but jon had always liked the romantic aspect of it.

jon does feel guilty about taking the sketchbook, especially since it'd been so well hidden. but his superhearing let him hear damian's familiar footsteps coming back and he'd panicked!

by the time he was back home it was burning a hole in his backpack.

jon had closed his bedroom door and turned the lock to make sure he couldn't be distrubed before shakily opening the beaten up, leather bound sketchbook again.

the first page is one of tim and another one of damian's brothers that he recognizes as dick.

tim is seated on dick's lap while dick is seated on a chair that looks like one of the ones from the dining room in wayne manor. that seems to be the case because there'e a lightly shaded dining room table digging into tim's spine while his front is covered by dick who's pressing their cheeks together, both faces turned to the viewer.

tim seems trapped between the table and dick, pinned almost.

jon marvels over the arch of tim's back as he almost looks like he wants to get away from dick, soft face creased in distress, eyes closed and brow furrowed. he's biting down on his bottom lip, almost like he's resisting the urge to cry out.

dick's hands look like they're squeezing tim's arms, which are down at his side, painfully tight. jon can see how dick's fingers have flesh overflowing in the spaces between them. jon can see the veins coloring the back of dick's hands. it's all impeccably detailed and jon can really see how talented damian is at art.

it must be why he's going to be attending school for it in italy come the fall. jon still remembers how mr. wayne had looked so proud at the graduation party for damian.

jon recalls how it was also the reason why jon stumbled across the sketchbook in the first place. damian had pulled out all of his drawings, sketches, and paintings and had been asking jon for help in deciding what to include in his portfolio.

the sketchbook had been one of many buried in a big pile of them, some of which had been identical. it had been in the pile of things damian had already sorted and he was going to take with him.

jon had been nosy and that was why the shetchbook was now sitting heavy in his lap as he kept staring at the drawing of damian's brothers fucking.

damian's first sketch in the book had been of his oldest brother cooing with an almost condescending look on his face as he pushed his cock into tim's parting pussy.

tim's toes were curled, every line of his body beautifully detailed. the cunt that had jon popping a tent in his jeans was shaded with some highlighting to imply it's wetness.

jon's mouth went dry at the individual strands of hair on tim's cunt. there was a thin landing strip of hair, it looked like a brazilian if jon was recalling the terminology correctly.

every page was like that. but some of them- oh some of them just had detailed drawings of tim's pussy. thick, calloused fingers were on each cheek, spreading tim open and exposing his hole that was leaking globs of thick, white cum that dripped all down the curve of his ass.

jon was breathing hard, near panting with each page.

it was basically porn just without the audio.

he only started touching himself when he came to his pages, gripping his leaking cock and desperately trying to keep his voice down because in a house of people who have super hearing- there is no privacy.

he's jacking off to a number of small number of drawings on one page of tim bouncing on his cock and riding jon when he spots it. a darkened bit of shading right on jon's right calf. it's something that appears in all sketches of him.

that's when jon suddenly snaps to attention and notices other thins. the dimple in jon's smile, the way it's parted the same each time in each drawing.

there's that little scar above jason's lip on drawings of him. there's also the slight burns on his inner arms where he'd caught a burning metal drum to stop it from hitting a pool of chemicals they were standing on.

damian's dad has a slightly crooked nose and strong chin along with a criss cross and array of long, thin scars from what looked like swords and knives. little punched wounds from bullet holes littered his body as well.

the ones jon notices the most are his dad and and kon. their features taken and almost photocopied into that book.

jon had thought damian's skills of observation were just too good but...drawings of his dick. ones where he's pulling out of tim's cunt with droplets of cum dripping off....

jon's cock looks identical to the one on the page.

---

jon's not good at keeping secrets.

well...not the kinds where he stile something from his friend.

kon notices it because kon's really perceptive and he manages to get it out of jon in minutes. he folds and shows kon.

jon hopes won't freak out about damian drawing porn of him with his best friend.

but he doesn't. he kind of goes still and just stares at the page for a long time.

he's on the page where tim's blush runs down his cheek and to his chest, where his eyes are big and almost kidlike as his mouth is wrapped around a massive cock without a body though based on the girth and length, jon is pretty sure it's supposed to be mr. wayne's.

kon swallowed thickly as he eyes dart back and forth on the page, taking in every detail.

jon is still feeling guilty and it's eating him up, he confessed to kon in hope he'd get some guidance about what to do but now it seemed like he was as absorbed as jon had been.

jon had been trying to keep it under wraps, to stop from spreading it around too much because he was hugely violating damian's privacy from just stealing the book in the first place.

but kon had asked if he could 'borrow' it for the day and jon had really hesitated, his stomach had already been in knots since he took it but he agreed. afterall, it was already the afternoon and kon promised to hand it to him before bed time.

but then he got caught jacking off in the bathroom with the book because their dad decided to bust in on kon because he was taking too long.

and one thing that their dad picked up from ma and pa, was confiscating items from them. kon had gotten porn magazines taken before and their dad hadn't thought it different until he'd actually looked down at what he was seeing.

kon had just so happened to have it open on a page where tim's stomach was bulging from the side of mr. wayne's massive fucking cock.

jon was near tears as he begged his dad to not call mr. wayne but his dad's cheeks were red as he stared down at the open book in his hands, turning a page occasionally.

he squirmed a finger into his collared shirt and tugged at it like he was letting out some steam.

mr. wayne picks up.

jon squirmed from where he was seated on a chair at wayne manor. the same one depicted from the first page of damian's sketchbook.

damian along with tim were both away in san francisco because damian was helping set up a new titans branch in europe that he'd be in charge of under tim's distant supervision.

damian's other brothers were present because it was sort of a big deal that all the powered up kents were dropping in.

his dad was handing the sketchbook to mr.wayne and saying something about how he brought both conner and jonathon here to apologize for the things contained within the book.

mr. wayne opens it and both his sons peek over his shoulder. their brows shoot up and jon wants to crawl into a hole and die.

---

jon does not get punished.

mostly because he throws damian under the bus through tearful eyes. everything is spilling out and kon is patting him on the shoulder as he confessed and apologized to mr. wayne for masturbating to the thought of his son.

there's a strange sort of fascination in the air where everyone is not so subtly trying to gain custody of the book.

dick seems to be having fun announcing to everyone who appears on the pages. so far they've gone through every titan, every justice leaguer, and he's listing off the rogues though he chokes and stops when he reaches Deathstroke.

some of the drawings of them as civilians but others are of them in their suits so mr. wayne is considering it a security risk since many of the scars on suit and suitless drawings have similar identifying features.

that's also when they register how scars, moles, burns, and marks aren't the only things that damian got right.

dick's interest was reignited and he was 'oooing' and 'aaahhing' over all the different cocks. especially his.

he kept flipping back and forth with other pages of him and other people, smiling with satisfaction when he confirmed that he was bigger.

jason was trying to do the same and attempting to grab at it.

their cheeks carried cherry red blushes and jon could hear the pump of their hearts and the rush of their blood that was slowed through some strange pattern of breathing he could hear from all of them.

not that it did much good because they were in the company of kryptonian's who could all tell.

they're all sort of passing the book around or crowding together with some among them maintaining an image of it being for a bigger purpose while others like kon are snapping pictures so they can keep it.

jon tries to be a middle ground by talking about how good damian's art is, the shading, the highlighting, the skill in anatomy-

it's almost like damian took a picture and was able to record it all on paper.

they all kind of go silent at that. shifting eyes and looking down at it.

all of them are sort of coming the terms with the fact that the others now know what they each look like below the belt and that they also know what...tim looks like below the belt.

dick is blushing the hottest and he's holding the sketchbook, fingers tracing the black ink drawing and swallowing thickly before-

"well timmy's got a nice pussy- that's all i have to say on that." jason shrugs and dodges the red-faced smack from dick.

"that's your brother you're talking about jason, have some respect." mr. wayne grunts at him, mouth line unhappy.

"what?" jason asked, shrugging and still dodging, "it's not like he actually has one, it's just damian's 'artistic vision' or something."

"and how would you know that?" dick asks, frowning deeply, "damian got the rest of us right, why not tim too?"

"one, i have a sixth sense for good pussy and two, this sketchbook is old, i'm guessing older than when he and timmy started getting along so damian defintly gave him a cunt as a way to 'humiliate' him by casting him in the role of a woman because he used to be a fucking misogynistic pig-"

"jason stop speculating over your brother's gender identity, it's rude...and don't call your brother names."

"well then you tell us the truth big man," jason shot back to mr. wayne, "you must've scraped that kid off the pavement a few times, tell us what he's packing why don't you?"

mr. wayne shifted uncomfortably and tightened his jaw like he was clenching his teeth.

"tim's never had an injury that necessitated stripping him nude. he once sprained his groin but i offered him ice and that was the extent of my help."

it turns into an argument, somewhat of a debate.

jon feels a little odd listening to others talk about tim's pussy when it's all jon's been thinking about for days.

he hopes it's real. he hopes one day he can see it himself.

maybe he'll have to ask damian-

damian doesn't know.

apparently, his brothers had cornered him after he returned and forced it out of him.

damian was very much pro-pussy.

he argued to jon over the phone about how timothy's disposition, temper, and body all leant credence to the fact that he should posses a cunt. one that was neat and as prettily maintained as the rest of him, one that would stretch to accommodate monstrous girths and vicious fuckings from the hands of others.

he manages to convert jon to his side very easily and jon recruits kon.

kon tells him that he's never seen robin fully naked. he's seen him in his underwear and there was definitely some equipment to imply he was packing but that also could've been a cup or even a fake one - he'd heard they sold those.

kon nodded along and murmured agreement as damian went on a rant about how timothy was built to be fucked, how the pitch of his voice implied he had a nice vocal range for moaning and whining. timothy's natural determination meant he wouldn't be daunted or deterred by challenges such as fucking himself on a cock thicked than his wrist.

how despite his strength and years of experience, timothy was more adept at the mental arts: strategizing, problem-solving, and detective work. timothy was in a minority of vigilantes that used nothing but their brains to gain the upper hand meaning he was at a physical disadvantage to nearly everyone else. this made him someone who could be bent and folded to whatever position necessary.

also timothy took on a massive load of responsibility most of the time both in his personal and professional life. wouldn't this in turn mean that he'd have a deep desire to have deeply hidden parts of himself offloaded for him.

this made him an ideal candidate for someone who desire to be 'fucked stupid' so to speak.

jon had to hang up when his dad knocked and peeked a red face in to inform him and kon that it was time for bed.

of course he'd been listening, super hearing.

jon wonders sometimes if tim is aware of how many people deeply desire to see him pantsless. to get a confirmation.

damian grumbles to him about father cheating because he's thinking of instituting mandatory physical evaluations.

in the end timothy does find out their curiosity and fascination about his pussy

but not because of damian's sketchbook.

a magic user leaves a trail of destruction starting in baltimore and ending in gotham city.

tim, apparently, gets hit with something during it but nothing that keeps him down.

unfortunately, since he's not in immediate danger the gathered magic users decide to develop a magical prison for the rampaging extradimensional witch and then deal with side effects.

most of them disappear by the end of the week. lamposts, sidewalks, the sides of brick buildings and all manner of things that had been shifted and changed.

but tim was one of the few organic things that were hit. he along with a bunch of collapsed pine trees were still effected only tim wouldn't say what it was that changed about him.

he kept dodging the question and turning red before stammering that it was humiliating and he'd rather not discuss it.

jon was present when they were pressuring him for answers again. he was with damian and watching as tim finally snapped from all of mr. waynes, dick's. and jason's needling.

jon was chewing on one of mr. pennyworth's chocolate chip cookies when tim shot up, glared at his family and started unbuckling his belt and opened his jeans.

jon choked, breathing in a chunk of mashed up food as timothy pulled down his boxers and jeans in a single move.

well...it seemed that damian was wrong about one thing.

tim didn't seem to care more for grooming.

the hair of his cunt was thin and only needed a light shave, not like the thick and dark curls that damian liked to draw tim with.

damian sucked in a sharp breath beside him and jon could see as the rest of the family froze, all their eyes locked on tim's sweetly pink cunt.

"i have a fucking pussy, alright? that's what that crazy witch did, alright? she gave me a fucking pussy and now i have to pee sitting down!"

tim stormed off, an angered flush painting his cheeks while one of his hands half tugged his pants on enough for him to watch.

the room was dead silent and when jonathon didn't dare try to hack up that piece of pastry slowly choking him to death.

"wow," jason said somewhat breathlessly, "it's better than the pictures."

nobody hit him this time. just some scattered nods and murmured agreements.

before anyone could say anything more, jason turned on his heel and began following after tim.

"tim! wait! i blinked and i didn't get to see! plus we should probably get your checked out- make sure everything's okay and working like it should!"

jon couldn't say anything about that (really, he physically couldn't). all he could think of was what had been running through his mind everyday since he found that sketchbook.

wayne boys are bold.

#anonymous #asks #answered asks

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hollyharper · 3 years

Text

The Bachelor- Damian Wayne x Female Reader

Part 1-

How you got here is still a blur. It had started with your friend submitting your portfolio to the waynes and ended where you are now, in the Wayne’s version of the Bachelor. Bruce would never trust his beloved son in the hands of media producers. For why Bruce made this decision, there are a thousand accounts. The one you had been told was that Damian had been an adverse to dating from the start, and his father was attempting to ignite that flame. You had seen hundreds of photos of Bruce Wayne’s eighteen year old heir, in everyone he was frowning. Now, you stand in Wayne Manor’s rarely used ballroom. About fourteen other girls wait with you. How long will you be here? Your best friend had gotten you this far. You can still remember her face as she hugged you goodbye. You both knew nothing would ever be the same after this.

Cameras are everywhere. You force yourself to stand up straight. Your dress falls down to the floor in gentle waves. It’s turquoise color highlights your skin tone, but that color does that for any tone. You had been wise to do so. To your surprise, you’re the only girl in blue. The rest are clothed in dark reds and greens. While you had chosen a more elegant dress, the other girls had taken a more sexy appearance. It’s saddening. The others dress as if the only thing that matters in this ‘contest’ is body shape. At least, you stand out in that way. The entire Wayne family, not counting Damian himself, are here. The girls disperse throughout the room. You find yourself nervously watching from the corner as all the others make small talk with the family and each other. This could be your family one day. The idea hits hard. If you win, if you somehow manage to win the heart of the richest teen in the world, you could have Wayne as your last name. You shake your head, what are the chances?

“Hello.”

You jump at the unexpected voice. You whirl around, and find yourself face to face with Damian Wayne.

“H-hi.” You stammer.

A lock of hair falls from your bun and into your face. You tuck it behind your ear, your hands shaking.

“I’m Y/n.” You whisper.

“It’s an honor to meet you.” He says flatly. It is clearly a practiced response.

A giggle erupts from your mouth. Your face flushes red. His frown deeps towards a scowl.

“Where are you from?” He asks, probably another rehurashed question.

“You've probably never heard of it.” You manage.

Did he look this hot before? His hair had clearly been slicked back with gel, but slowly, it’s breaking free. His jaw is well defined, his nose thin and regal, and his emerald green eyes, are the most alluring thing you’ve ever seen.

“What are your interests?” He asks.

“I like art.” You choke out. You fidget with the fabric of your skirt.

His eye brows arch. “What kind of art?”

“Acrylic, Watercolor, sketching. I also do a little digital work.” The anxiety bleeds away somewhat, as you ramble.

“I’d love to see your work some time.” Damian says, with something closer to a smile than his earlier scowl.

“R-really?” Your stammer returns.

“Of course. I dabble in art myself.” The corners of his mouth turn up a little more.

“That’s cool.” You raise your chin a little more. “What d-”

“Damian!”

He turns from you, his expression falling back into dislike. “Yes, Father?”

Bruce meets your eyes, then stumps to whisper in his son’s ear. Damian flat out scowls. Bruce patts his son’s shoulder before whisking away to greet some of the other girls. Damian’s scowl stay’s planted.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

He scoffs. “I’m supposed to greet all the others.”

“Oh.” He looks eager for any escape.

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x female reader #Damian Wayne x fem!reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #fanfic #damian wayne fanfiction #fanfciton

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sunmoonandeddie · 3 years

Text

oh, captain, my captain

pairing: professor!steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,090

summary: Steve Rogers got bored in his retirement, so he picked up the hobby of teaching art. But he still feels restless until his missing piece comes along.

warnings: swearing, little bit of smutty smut, dub-con, drinking, manipulation, steve is a little dark but reader is into it in the end

a/n: This is... a little darker than what most people expect from me. But I wrote this for a dear friend, so I really, really hope you all enjoy it!! Also, please read the warnings. I'm not responsible for your media consumption <3

Life after the Avengers was mundane.

Not that Steve didn’t like the quiet days, where he knew he wasn’t going to be running off and risking his life at any moment, mind you. In fact, he was finding that retirement rather suited him.

Except for the fact that he was bored.

Bucky and Sam were always busy on some kind of mission together, saving the world and splitting their time between Brooklyn, Washington D.C., and New Orleans. Or NOLA, as Buck liked to call it now.

Perhaps the boredom was why he took up art again. He did go to art school, after all, and had even graduated. It was after his first official professional art show that the university contacted him.

They wanted him to teach young minds how to make art.

It was the perfect solution to his boredom problem.

Of course, he should’ve realized that getting a new job wouldn’t make him feel complete. No, unfortunately, he hasn’t found the missing piece in his hundred years.

At least until you walked into his classroom on the first day.

Steve’s eyes focused on you immediately, enamored by the curve of your legs and the Cupid’s bow of your upper lip. “Hello, you,” he mumbled softly under his breath as he watched you sit down to what appeared to be a friend of yours. He scrolled through his attendance on the school supplied computer in front of him, raising his brows as he found the name next to your university ID picture.

A perfect name for a perfect girl.

Suddenly he felt the need to have a few figure drawing classes. Privately. With you. With your clothes off.

And maybe his clothes would be off, too.

He stood up as the clock finally hit one in the afternoon, holding his laptop. “Alright, please let me know if you’re here as I call your names,” he said, before going through the roster quickly.

When he called your name, and you responded with a soft, “Here!” he almost fucking came in his pants.

“Alright. In this class, as with many art classes, we’re going to get very… personal,” he said as he started to walk through the easels and those sitting in front of them. “So on the first day, rather than reading through the syllabus that’s readily available on your phone, I like to do some ice breakers.” He couldn’t help but grin at the collective groan that rang through the class. “I know, I know. But like I said, this class is going to get very personal. So come on, let’s all get in a little closer.”

“Do you mind?” You asked quietly as you scooted her stool in between two others that he couldn’t remember the names of. You gave them a blinding smile as they made room, perching in your seat like a little angel.

His little angel.

Everything seemed to be a blur as he led them in a series of questions, but he barely retained any information from anyone except you. At least he had his phone secretly recording in his pocket so he could go back and relisten later (even if it was mostly just to hear your voice.)

Favorite color?

“Green.”

Favorite holiday?

“New Year’s Eve.”

Favorite artist?

“Marilyn Minter.”

That was interesting to him. That showed that you had a naughty side.

A side he so desperately wanted to get to know.

The only issue was that he needed to find a way to get you alone, and that was going to take trust built up over time.

He was truthfully, absolutely amazed that it only took a few weeks before you were coming to him with wonder-filled eyes, asking him if you could please schedule some time during his office hours to go over some of your portfolio.

Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Hey, you made it,” he said when you walked in after a light knock on the door, your portfolio in hand. Steve stood and immediately pulled out the chair for you like a proper gentleman. Subtly, he took in a deep breath as the cloud of your perfume enveloped him like a warm hug.

It was something classy. Something you had clearly splurged on.

Perhaps Gucci or Valentino or something.

“I’m sorry for being late,” you said as Steve glanced at the clock.

You were maybe three minutes late at the most.

“The subway was delayed, and unfortunately, I can’t control when the subway stops and goes,” you continued, letting out a nervous laugh as you opened up your portfolio. “Did you get my email with my previous pieces?”

“Yes, I did!” He said as he sat back down at his desk. “And honestly, I haven’t been this impressed in a long, long time. I would love to possibly mentor you? Of course, that means a lot more hours spent with an old man like me.” Eyes crinkling, he couldn’t help but laugh when you laughed.

He was sure that he almost had you right where he wanted you. The corner you were backing yourself into was almost too perfect.

You seemed… amazed. Absolutely flabbergasted by his offer. “Really?” You breathed out, leaning closer, elbows resting on your knees. “You’d really do that? That would be… I… Thank you.” Shaking your head, you scooted your chair a little closer. “How much should I pay you? I’ve never had a personal mentor before.”

And there it was. The corner he wanted you in.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry about money,” he insisted as he looked deep into your eyes. It would be so easy to just get lost in them… “But, I do need assistance with something.”

“Of course!” You were like a doe-eyed little fawn, chasing him—the magnificent stag—through a field of wildflowers. “Whatever you want!”

Steve put on the most bashful, boy next door look he could muster. “Well… I’ve been trying to get back into figure drawing, but you’d be surprised at how hard it is finding a class to take that won’t freak out that I’m… you know. Steve Rogers.”

The look on you face let him know immediately there was no way you were going to say no. Hell, you were looking at him like he was the last puppy on the side of the road in a box that had ‘FREE’ written on the side.

In the rain.

“When do we start?”

Steve got everything set up in his home studio that night, only to sit until Friday night, when he’d planned for you to come over. Admittedly, he may have gone a little overboard with the mood lighting and the bottle of red wine that he’d left open on the counter to breathe, two crystal wine glasses resting next to it.

The good crystal.

He practically ran to the door when he heard the doorbell. “Hey, I was a little worried you would have trouble finding it,” he said as he guided you inside, a large hand coming to rest on the small of your back.

“Oh, I just Ubered,” you said, ducking your head as you let him lead you into his large home. “I don’t have a car. It’s too expensive and there’s no point when I live in the city. Though, the drive out here was absolutely gorgeous. I can see why you got a place a little bit upstate.”

Steve grinned, fighting the urge to say that it could also be your place. But that was for the future. “Yeah, the views and the quiet is worth the forty-five minutes or so I commute everyday.” He opened up the door to his home studio, all the windows wide open.

You wandered around the room, looking at the various art supplies and canvases scattered haphazardly around the room. In the very center was a chaise lounge with a blanket draped across it. “This is amazing… God, if I had my own art studio at home, I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

He poured out two glasses of wine, gently pressing one into your hands. “Well, you can always use this one. I have more space than I could probably ever use.” He sipped at his own wine, watching the way the glass pressed to your lips, watching the way you swallowed down the sweet liquid.

He couldn’t get drunk, but you certainly could.

It was around your third glass that he finally got to the point of why you were there. “So, I really want to paint you lying on this chaise,” he said as he guided you back. “But… Would it be possible for you to pose in the nude? You have just… the most natural beauty. I want to be able to only focus on that.”

“Oh my god, yeah!” You said as you set your glass of wine on the little table. With your inhibitions lowered, there was no hesitation as you stripped out of your clothing, tossing it all to the side. “You just move me how you want me.”

Oh, he would.

His own wine glass was set to the side before he moved closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Yeah?” He guided you to lie down on the bed, letting his fingers drift over your soft skin. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous… Could just look at you forever…” His thumb brushed over one of your hard nipples, teasing the little peak as his cock ached inside his sweats. “I could never paint anything else except for you… and I’d die the happiest man in the world.” Carefully, gently, he moved your legs so one of your knees was bent, your legs spread wide for him.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your skin feeling flushed from the wine and the excitement of this god-like man touching you. “Mmm… Professor…”

Steve’s eyes were locked in on the prize, that blooming flower between your thighs, glistening with sweet nectar. “I always love a hands on approach,” he cooed as he ran a single finger through your folds, gathering up your slick.

The taste was exquisite.

Pretty moans fell from your lips, your back arching as your legs instinctively spread wider for him. “Please…”

He knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. It was fate, you walking into his class.

“Do you want me to touch you, baby girl?” He asked, loving the purr that rumbled in your chest as he found your swollen clit. “So needy… When’s the last time your pretty little kitty got so much attention, angel? You’ve been neglecting her, haven’t you?”

At your nod, you tried sitting up a bit, lip caught between your teeth. “Y-Yes. Please… Please.”

Steve quickly realized you didn’t even know what you were asking for.

“So innocent. So sweet,” he said as he wrapped his hands around your waist to pull you to the edge of the chaise. He leaned in and took in a deep breath, groaning. “I wanna be able to smell you for days.” At the first lick of his tongue, he knew he had you wrapped around his fingers.

And when you finally orgasmed, soaking his beard with your juices? Fuck. He was even more of a goner than he was before.

Steve loved the way that you laid limbless on the chaise, foot lazily bouncing as you dozed. It was easily a sight that he could get very, very used to very quickly. This was going to be so much easier than he thought it was going to be.

While he knew he was the right one for you, being able to know that you weren’t going to fight him gave him an amazing sense of relief.

The next week, he stood at his desk, making notes on his laptop. At five minutes to one, the door opened as the first student to arrive entered.

Immediately looking up, his heart sank. It wasn’t you.

Did you panic after you left his place the next morning? Nothing more had happened that night. Surely getting an orgasm wouldn’t freak you out, right?

His hands were starting to tremble when the door opened again, and he felt someone standing right next to him.

“Professor Rogers?”

His head snapped up, relief flooding him when he saw you. “H-Hello. How can I help you?”

A mischievous smile spread across your face, even though you were clearly trying to contain it. “Is there any possible way you have some free time during your office hours for me to swing by? I’d love to schedule our next figure painting session.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x you

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jeonsjiddies · 4 years

Text

apodyopsis (m) | jjk

summary- apodyopsis (n.) ; the act of mentally undressing someone

alternatively, Jungkook is a nude model in your art class

rating- explicit / 18+ word count- 12k pairing- jungkook x reader genre- smut Warnings- daddy kink, slight degrading?, mild health concerns, very light bdsm?, masturbation, oral (female and male receiving), rough sex, kind of dom!jungkook, a little name calling?, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it bb)

a/n: our lovechild is born! We worked so hard on this, we hope you love it as much as we do. Currently thanking my lucky stars that @blkjmn agreed to collab with me, and that she saved my life with that glorious sex scene because I can’t seem to stop writing mushy fluffy smut. I love you so much thank you for being by my side and co-writing this with me. <3

“There’s one last thing we need to discuss before you are signed, Mr. Jeon. Do we need to backtrack for a moment to review, or shall we continue on?” The business contractor asked, using his thumb and index finger to push his glasses up further onto his nose bridge.

Jungkook wasn’t registering a single word that left the man’s mouth. His eyes were glued to the fine print on the page that described the job he’d be keeping for likely most of his (young adult) life, or at least until he was able to successfully rid himself of the guilt that's been resting on his broad shoulders for the last ten years.

He would never be able to forget the way his mother’s face fell every time he was discharged from the hospital. Not only did she have no answers and a still sick child to take home, but she also had a weighty hospital bill to add to the others that she received about once a month. She worked her ass off to take care of him as best she could, even with the gigantic debt she kept under her belt for the entirety of his childhood.

All of this was hidden from Jungkook until he was told he had celiac disease at the age of ten. His symptoms had gotten worse the longer his condition remained unnoticed, even though he would complain to his mother of constant pain everyday, tearful eyes locking with hers as if begging for her to give him any sort of relief.

“Mommy, my stomach hurts!”

“I’m not hungry! It makes it worse to eat!”

“Can you please make it stop, mama?”

He cringes every time he thinks about what he must’ve put his mother through as a child, and how she always managed to push a smile even though she was fighting to make ends meet.

Even after all of that, he was hesitating on signing this contract because he was too shy? Bullshit. He’d be selfish if he were to deny this opportunity because of his underlying fear of being seen naked in front of a large audience of people.

He knew he had no real reason to be afraid, though. After constant teasing in school for being extremely thin due to his illness, he built up the courage to get himself a gym membership when his condition became less overbearing.

He ate more often, built up more muscle, and managed to become more confident in himself and his abilities.

So, what did he have to be nervous for?

Jungkook no longer had any issues with stripping himself down. His body was sculpted perfectly, and he had a massive dick to accompany the figure he had worked for so many years towards.

Sure, everything was all set for him, but not for his mom. Jungkook knew that she barely managed to make her rent last month.

He needed to sign this contract.

“Mr. Jeon?” Jungkok’s glossy eyes were blown wide. He hadn’t moved an inch in the past minute.

“Mr. Jeon…” The man rolled his eyes, obviously knowing that it would take a bit more than calling the young man’s name to get him out of whatever trance he’d put himself in. He slammed his fist down onto the table, and Jungkook’s eyes crossed for a moment before he jolted to his senses.

He cleared his throat, and immediately began sputtering apologies.

“I-I’m so sorry. I’m not quite sure what came over me, I-” The contractor held his hand up, effectively silencing the boy as he picked up the pen that sat to the right of him while offering it to Jungkook with a raised brow.

“If this is something that you are not going to take seriously, then you may escort yourself out of my office. If you’d like to begin your career in this field, then take this pen and sign this contract.” Jungkook didn’t hesitate in grabbing the pen from the man, immediately apologizing for the way he snatched it out of his grasp.

He gnawed on his bottom lip, eyes scanning over the words on the thin paper as if he hadn’t been in this chair reviewing them for the past three hours.

This job paid well, and he had nothing to risk.

Except for the probable denial of any office job he’d try to apply to.

Why would he want an office job anyway?

Probably because--

“Any day now, Mr. Jeon.” He cast an annoyed glance toward the man. Couldn’t he see that he was contemplating on signing the damn thing?

He sighed, stretched his neck from side to side, and lifted the pen to the paper with a shaking hand.

The moment he finished signing, the crumpled sheet was ripped from under his fingertips, and tucked away into the desk of who Jungkook really hoped wouldn’t be his boss.

“It’s nice to have you along, kid.” Jungkook smiled nervously.

“You’ve got a great look, but of course, nude modeling is about what’s under the clothes.” His face instantly began to pale as he gripped the armrests of the chair he sat in.

Was this old dude asking to see him naked? Right now?

“You can step inside of the bathroom behind me to change. There should be a robe hanging on the door. Put it on, meet me outside, and we’ll take a few pictures for your portfolio.”

Jungkook sat still in the chair, staring at the man across from him with those adorable eyes widened in slight panic.

He was trying to pull himself up so he wouldn’t look like a fumbling idiot, but he couldn’t move a limb.

There was no turning back now, and he was fully aware of that.

“Am I… am I supposed to be naked for the f-first photo shoot?” Jungkook asked, his voice weak.

The contractor raised an eyebrow. It was normal for newcomers to be nervous, but he couldn’t understand why it was so difficult for him to follow directions.

In due time, he supposed.

“No, Jungkook.” The contractor sighed, pressing his thumb and middle finger against his temples in distress. Jungkook noted that this was the first time the man had addressed him formally as well, so it was probably in his best interest to go get changed if he didn’t want to get fired before he officially started the job.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He said, standing from the chair as he looked over the contractor’s shoulder to the bathroom. It seemed to be decently sized, and he could really use some time alone to get his nerves settled before he had to… well, pose naked for the camera.

Well, not naked. Not this time. That’s what the contractor said.

He looked toward the man one last time, before he began pushing himself in the direction of the bathroom. Upon approaching it, he could pick up the smell of lavender coming from the candles that were lit inside.

He opened the door, and immediately turned around to close and lock it.

He checked to make sure the door was locked before he pulled his shirt over his head and carefully pulled each of his shoes off.

He checked once more as he unbuckled his pants.

He checked one final time as he threw his belt to the floor.

Jungkook slid his thumbs in between his hips and the fabric of the jeans as he tugged them down toward the ground. He had no issue with this as of yet, seeing as he was still in his boxers.

He pressed his body up against the wall, giving himself something to lean up against as he took his jeans off and threw them toward the pile of his clothes he created on the floor.

The boxers were all that were left.

“Come on, man.” He whispered to himself, glaring at his reflection in the mirror as he began to get annoyed at his own anxiousness.

It was just a couple of pictures, and he’d be covered by a robe. He was acting like a wreck for no reason.

He closed his eyes and yanked the boxers down in one swift motion, knowing that if he hesitated, he probably would’ve just left them on.

Jungkook shivered as the cold air went straight to his dick, and he almost knocked one of the candles over and sent the bathroom up into flames as he lunged for the robe that was near the door.

It was soft and fluffy, and it also carried the faint scent of the lavender that engulfed his senses. It was warm as well, like a heated towel.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad, then.

He noticed that there were a pair of flimsy sandals sitting near the door as he prepared to leave. He was never told to put them on, or to mess with them at all, but he’d rather not walk around with his bare feet, so he slid them on anyway.

He checked his reflection once more, adjusting the robe a bit so it hung loosely around his waist, and so more of his chest could be exposed.

Sure, he was nervous, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to put on a good show.

He ran his hands down his sides, purposely brushing them over his cock as he considered giving it a few quick pumps before he made his way outside.

That’d be sure to leave a great first impression, which was what he was going for, but it’d be obvious that he was touching himself because his face would blush bright red.

He reached down to grab his clothes, folding them somewhat neatly. He grabbed his shoes and sat them on top of the stack of clothes he’d made.

Worry began to bubble in his stomach once he stepped out of the bathroom to find himself alone in the large office room, but he quickly remembered that he was told to meet the guy outside.

He hummed a small tune as he took quick steps toward the office door, placing his large hand upon the knob and opening it slowly, just in case his boss (Jungkook decided to assume that’s who this man was going to become. It’s better to wish for the worst anyway, right?) was right in front of the door.

Once he didn’t feel any force being pressed against the door, he opened it carefully and shimmied his way out of the office. He pressed his back against it to close it, and this small action caught the attention of his boss, who was sitting on a small bench a few feet away from the office.

“Great! You’re all changed.” The man smiled gently at him, clapping his hands together as he stood up and quickly approached Jungkook.

Jungkook stumbled back a few steps, confused by this sudden change of behavior. Was it because he was finally complying, or was it because he was about to be used for profit?

Either way, he didn’t mind. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to work in a less stressful environment, so he’d take what he could get.

“Uh, yeah… I wasn’t sure of where to put my clothes,” Jungkook began, holding up his clothes as he spoke, “so I decided to—“

“Ah, thank you for the reminder!” The man spoke, retreating back toward the bench he sat on to fetch an unmarked black bookbag from behind it.

He handed it to Jungkook, who took it thankfully and with a small smile.

“When do I return this to you?” Jungkook asked, not bothering to look toward his boss as he spoke as he was busy stuffing his belongings into the bag.

“It’s yours to keep, son.” Jungkook closed the bag and stood up, tossing it lazily over one of his shoulders as he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, thank you so much.�� He smiled sincerely. He was especially thankful that it was unmarked, because if he were to wear the bag out in public, he’d hate for someone to actually read the company name and google it, only to find pictures of him covered with only a robe on the home page.

He shivered at the thought.

“The studio is actually on this floor, so we haven’t got far of a walk at all.” His boss began to walk, and Jungkook followed a few feet behind him as he began to survey his surroundings at each turn they took.

“Now, there will be a handful of people in this room with you. Other models, photographers, of course, lighting specialists, stylists, and a few possible employers.” Jungkook hummed as the man spoke, ignoring every word that was coming out of his mouth as his heart began to thud loudly in his chest.

He didn’t need this explanation, anyway. The average person knows a little something about how a photo shoot works.

Even though he was a considerable distance away from his boss, he was almost sure that he could hear the thudding in his chest.

“Every single one of the people waiting in this room are going to do their best to make you look good, so there’s no need to worry. Relax, and you focus on making the company look good.” He laughed throatily, and Jungkook laughed stiffly from behind him.

‘Make the company look good my ass,’ Jungkook thought.

He rolled his eyes, almost crashing directly into the short man in front of him as they abruptly stopped at a door tucked away into the corner of the hallway they were on.

“This is it. Do you have anything else to ask of me?” Jungkook hurriedly said no, his nerves being replaced by the excitement to show himself off a bit.

“Alright.” The man nodded once before he opened the door, and once again, Jungkook was slapped in the dick with a blast of cold air.

He raised his eyebrows in interest as he surveyed the few models that were scattered about the different sets that were spread apart in the room. One set was sexy and seductive, dripping in elements of crimson and black, another was a bit more fun, which used orange and yellow to contrast against the white, and Jungkook couldn’t even conjure up the words to describe the other sets.

He continued to watch the models pose as if this was natural for them, flinching every now and then at the bright light that would flash every time a picture was taken.

He also noted that all of the models were nude.

They seemed to be masters of their talents, so maybe Jungkook got to leave the robe on because he was an amateur?

“Shit.” Jungkook cursed under his breath. Another cool draft of wind ran through the room, and he scurried to look down and pull the robe over his thighs.

Jungkook heaved a sigh of relief once he successfully covered himself, and his boss quickly strolled over to him to grab the bag off of his shoulder. Jungkook immediately looked over to ask him what he was doing, but before he got the chance, he was being whisked away by a manicured hand.

Everything moved quickly, but this should’ve been what Jungkook was expecting. This wasn’t just about his money.

He was thrown onto a couch near the center of the room, which was white just like the walls.

As soon as his ass touched the couch cushions, there were at least four people crowding over him to add some blush to his cheeks, and add some hairspray to his hair.

He was startled, but he didn’t mind the chaotic environment. It reminded him very much of the hospital he frequented when he was younger, and the thought of him finally being able to help his mom out after so long brought a smile to his face.

After the clutter of bodies went away, Jungkook was left alone on the couch with a camera pointed directly at him.

He gulped, his mouth suddenly dry.

The man behind the camera snapped a few shots of Jungkook to test the quality of the photos, and once he was pleased with what he saw, he stared expectantly at Jungkook with a raised brow.

“Uh…” Jungkook began.

“Take your robe off.” He stated bluntly. Jungkook choked, and immediately looked to where he saw his boss last, but he was nowhere to be found.

That fucker.

“I—I thought that I—“

“You may want to be quick about it, too. Time is money, and the more pictures we take of you, the better your chances are at being promoted.” Jungkook sighed.

If there was one thing he needed, it was money.

Hell, that’s what he got the job for.

He slowly brought his hands down to the sash that was holding the robe together and undid it, tossing it next to him on the couch.

He smirked lightly when he heard a few of the women standing behind the photographer gasp, quickly scanning every one of their faces to see their shocked expressions.

Jungkook could read the women easily. They all bit their lips, winked, or waved flirtatiously as he made eye contact with them, except for one woman.

She smiled teasingly at him, although she was seemingly unimpressed with his level of confidence. She raised an eyebrow tauntingly, pretending as if she didn’t understand why everyone was reacting as if they’d never seen a penis before. Though her cool exterior radiated disinterest, Jungkook could see past her facade, her eyes gave everything away. He could see the desire in her y/e/c irises. Jungkook understood, he felt it too.

Jungkook returned the smile, oddly at ease by her presence. He absentmindedly licked his lips as he raked his eyes up and down the curves of her figure.

She wore a long sleeved shirt that hugged her frame perfectly, a tight skirt that rested a few inches above her knees, and a pair of black heels that made her legs look absolutely stunning from where Jungkook was sitting.

He was sure they’d still look delicious if he were to take a closer look, which he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

His mind wandered, images of her naked body flashing behind his eyelids. He lost himself in his daydreams of kissing up her legs while she squirmed underneath him.

What the hell is wrong with him? He was made to be the one receiving suggestive glances, but here he was, blatantly checking out the cute girl that was just trying to make him comfortable.

The girl broke eye contact with him, and he immediately looked away as well, squirming slightly in his seat as he felt his cock harden between his legs.

He made no effort to hide it, but he did close his legs a bit to make it less obvious.

He did not just get a boner because he made eye contact with a pretty girl.

Well, on the bright side, he didn’t have to worry about getting himself hard in the bathroom.

He glanced over in the lady’s direction once more, pouting once he noticed that she was no longer paying any attention to him, instead scribbling something down on a notepad she held in her small hands.

Why did he want her attention so bad?

“Alright,” The photographer began, bringing Jungkook back down to earth, “Keep it natural. The more relaxed you feel, the better your photos will turn out.” Jungkook nodded, a bit more eager than he should’ve been to begin his first session.

“Perfect!” The photographer yelled, snapping one last photo of Jungkook before he closed the lens of his camera and began to pack up his equipment.

Most of the other models and workers filed out already, and Jungkook was overly thankful that it would be his turn to leave this room next.

Jungkook thought the shoot went very well, as it was very easy for him to… keep himself encouraged throughout, thanks to that pretty lady.

He relaxed from his position, in which he was leaned forward, his elbows propped onto his knees as he smirked cockily at the camera.

He wasn’t sure of what to do just yet, waiting for his liar of a boss to make himself shown again.

Especially considering that the man had his clothes and shoes.

Jungkook sighed and closed his eyes, pressing his back into the couch as he breathed in and out slowly. He continued like this for a few moments, until he could hear heels tapping against the floor in his direction.

He opened one of his eyes, taking a peek at who was walking toward him.

Jungkook immediately sat up upon noticing that it was the woman with the sexy legs that kept his dick hard through the entirety of his shoot.

She approached him with a friendly smile, and Jungkook returned her sincerity with a smile of his own.

“Could I take a seat?” She motioned toward the empty spot on the couch next to him. Jungkook nodded once.

“Of course.” He moved over a bit, his cock swinging against his inner thigh as he did so.

It was then that he realized that he was absolutely naked still, so he grabbed the robe that laid over the arm of the couch and threw it on, as if the woman hadn’t already seen everything he had to offer— and more.

“Thank you!” She smiled at him. ”I’m Y/N.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I’m Jungkook.” She chuckled at this. Jungkook was confused as to what she found funny, maybe his name?

He gripped the robe between his fingers, nervously running the pads of them over the soft material as he pondered over what could’ve made the tempting woman in front of him giggle so sweetly.

“Why’re you laughing?” She noticed his nerves return, a knowing smirk on her lips as she watched the way he shyly avoided eye contact with her.

“I already know who you are, Mr. Jeon.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. It’s almost as if she knew she was enticing.

“You did some great work today, you know?” She flashed him an adorable smile again.

It was something about the way that ‘Mr. Jeon’ rolled off of her tongue that was driving Jungkook up the wall.

“Look, I know this may seem a bit forward, but you radiate great potential.” Jungkook nodded, thanking her quietly, as she pulled out that notepad that she was scribbling in when she was too busy to give him attention while he was posing sexily.

“I conduct an art class at a community center, and I’d love it if you were to drop by and model for me a bit, since you’ve gotten the swing of things fairly quickly.” She giggled, as she ripped out the page from the small book and handed it to him gently.

“Please, feel free to decline if you’re uncomfortable, but if you’d like to give it a try then give me a call.” She eyed him carefully as he picked up the paper and read over it.

“That’s my personal number, so you can call me whenever you’d like.” Something about that sentence put an image into Jungkook’s head.

“Alright, I’ll get out of your hair now.” She stood up, collecting her belongings as she did so.

“If I never run into you again, then it’s been a pleasure, Jungkook.” She proceeded to walk away, leaving him on the couch alone.

Jungkook lingered just outside the door of the art room, his stomach twisting with nerves. When he’d first been approached about modeling, he’d laughed it off. It started off with easy stuff, brand deals and commercial advertisements. How did he end up here? Posing nude in front of a group of strangers to pick apart his body for their art? This was the best paying gig he’d ever been presented with… the small advertising gigs had been a couple hundred at best but this one would put a sizable dent in his mother’s debt, easing her misfortune. Jungkook had to do this. For her.

He held his head high and strolled into the room with a confident air, any trace of his uneasiness washed away. He glanced around at the unfamiliar faces, carefully watching his every move. He smiled in a greeting, until his eyes landed on you. His face lit up at seeing your familiar face and your heart clenched at the sight. Should Jungkook have found comfort in your deceptively soft eyes? No. Did he? Absolutely. Your sharp tongue didn’t phase him too badly, not when he could see the tenderness in your eyes.

“Good morning, Mr. Jeon.” you smiled, extending your hand in an invitation.

Jungkook reached out, enveloping your small hand in his own larger one, shaking it professionally. He reveled at how soft your skin was.

“Good morning, Ms. Y/L/N.” he greeted. “Good morning, everyone.” he addressed the rest of the room. “Please call me Jungkook.”

“Alright. Jungkook here is going to be our model. Long gone are the days of fruit baskets. Here is where the fun begins.” you smirked, sending a raised eyebrow Jungkook’s way.

In spite of himself, Jungkook blushed under your suggestive gaze.

“Now, don’t forget that this is for art.” you emphasized. “The human body is a work of art and I expect you to treat it as such. Take this seriously. Okay?”

Most heads nodded automatically, a few older women rolled their eyes or stole looks from each other, mocking you. You were placing a young, muscular man in front of them without clothes. How did you expect them not to ogle?

“For this particular piece, we’re going to be exploring how to use charcoal to get those little details. Don’t forget your shading!” you chimed happily. “Ready, Jungkook?”

“I think so.” he smiled.

“Show us what you got.” you grinned, stepping back and sitting at your own easel.

Jungkook’s hands trembled a bit as he unbuttoned his shirt, trying his best to 1. Not look like a total basket case and 2. Not make it super sensual. Deft fingers worked their way down his shirt and soon the material was sliding off his body in a way he felt was unceremoniously, but judging from the mouths hanging open around the room, might’ve been a bit more enticing than he’d intended.

Jungkook’s chest was absolutely flawless, in your opinion. You were one of the few who managed to keep your tongue inside your mouth for the show, but that didn’t stop your eyes from wandering over his toned physique. Sure you’d seen him at his photography shoot, but he was wearing a robe and you were trying to be professional. Now, hidden behind your easel, you were free to really take him in.

His chiseled chest, the deep ridges of his toned abs, the smoothness of his skin, the light dusting of hair that teased its way under his jeans. He was a walking wet dream. Your mouth watered as your gaze followed the lines of his V. Jungkook popped open the button of his jeans, tugging the zipper down as well. You’d never been so entranced by a simple movement in your life. The man radiated sexual energy.

He shimmied his hips free of the denim, his every movement captivating his audience. Firm hip bones, luscious thick thighs, deliciously tanned skin were all slowly revealed as he tugged the jeans off in one fluid motion. Maybe he should be a stripper instead of a model… You shook the thought away, but it lingered. Jungkooks movements faltered for a moment, his eyes seeking yours for comfort. You smiled reassuringly at him, and that was all he needed to tug his boxers over his delicious thighs and let his glorious cock free.

“Holy shit.” you heard from somewhere behind you.

“He reminds me of a lover I once had in Prague. I’d sneak him into my hotel room and we’d make love until the sun came up. I miss being young.”

Jungkook coughed and brought his arm up to cover the flush spreading across his cheeks at the older woman’s inappropriate comment. You bit back a laugh.

“Alright Jungkook, just make yourself comfortable and we’ll start drawing you, okay?” you instructed, attempting to take his mind off of the earlier comment.

“Okay.” he nodded, settling himself on the stool you’d set out for him, resisting the urge to strike a pose he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold.

The room grew quiet save for the scratch of charcoal on canvas as the class began attempting to do justice to Jungkook’s beauty in their renditions of him. You began by tracing an outline of his body, opting not to attempt any details yet. The pink tint that rested upon the apple of your cheeks was hard to ignore, and you weren’t sure you could handle trying to get details of certain areas just yet.

You did your best to ignore the effect Jungkook’s naked body was having on your own fully clothed one. He was ethereal, beautiful, the kind of man you could lose yourself in. He had charisma, a way about him that just drew people in. Or maybe it was just you. Every time your eyes locked with his, it was like he was the only thing you could focus on. Everything else was obsolete.

Jungkook held a power over you that honestly scared you a little, and he didn’t even know he did. He didn’t understand how magnetic he was. Sure, he was sexy and he knew it. He’d obviously spent hours painstakingly sculpting his body to perfection, but it wasn’t even just his flawless physique, it wasn’t just his gorgeous, greek-god-like face. His power was inside of him, his strength, his determination, that spark in his gaze.

Jungkook was different from the rest, whether he realized it or not. He was special. Everything about him invited you in and coaxed you to give all of yourself to him. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from wondering as you lazily sketched the outline of him. How would his skin feel under your touch? Heat flooded your veins as you imagined what his touch might feel like in return. You shook these thoughts away, focusing on the task at hand and trying to see Jungkook as nothing more than art you were depicting. You were going to make certain you got every detail correct. And for that, you needed to focus.

Jungkook forced himself to look anywhere but at the people who were gawking at his naked frame. He couldn’t stop himself from watching you though. He found himself wondering what you thought of him. He wanted to see what you were doing on your canvas. He wanted you to look at him. As if reading his thoughts, you lifted your gaze and faltered when you found his already upon you. When your eyes met and he bit his lip in a nervous smile, you knew you were screwed.

The next time you saw Jungkook was a week later. Your class had nearly doubled in size as word spread of the toned man with the impressive cargo. You rolled your eyes to yourself but greeted your new arrivals with the same professional smile. You couldn’t blame them, not really. Would you have passed up the opportunity to see him naked again? Hell no. He was already undressed when you’d arrived, running late after a meeting with the program director congratulating you on your ability to gain interest in your class.

“Sorry I’m late!” you announced to the class, then to Jungkook specifically with an apologetic look.

“That’s alright dearie.” one of the older women commented, and you sent her a gracious smile.

“So! For those of you who are new, you can partner up with someone and observe or you can find your own Canvas located on the tables in the back. If you need any help please let me know, since you weren’t here for the introductory lessons.”

“Does she really think we’re here just to draw?” you heard a whisper from the back of the room.

“I know. I didn’t believe Karen when she told me an asian boy with a giant dong was modeling for her community center art class. I had to see for myself.” another voice giggled.

“If I were 15 years younger, I would climb that boy like a tree. I may be old enough to be his mother, but I could still give him a run for his money.”

“Mmm.. I wonder what he can do with those fingers. I bet he has stamina for days.”

You glanced up at Jungkook, who was actively trying to hide his discomfort, shifting a little on the stool as he attempted to stay still. You cleared your throat, loudly, sending a pointed look to the two women in the back.

“I just want to remind our newcomers that this class is about art, not objectification. Please remain respectful. If you can’t manage that, I’m sure you can manage to find the door.” you nearly hissed.

They shrugged sheepishly and grew quiet. You huffed in annoyance, glancing back at Jungkook again, who sent you an appreciative smile. You nodded, focusing on your canvas in front of you once more.

Once class was over and the others had filed out, you walked up to Jungkook as he was buttoning his jeans. He looked up from his task and greeted you with a warm smile.

“Hey, Y/N.” he grinned, apparently forgetting he still needed to put a shirt on.

You used every brain cell you had to keep yourself from staring at his chiseled chest.

“Hey Jungkook.” you smiled. “Are you okay? Did those women make you uncomfortable? I can ask them not to come back.”

“Oh it’s okay!” he assured you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I appreciate the offer but I don’t want to be a bother. It did make me kind of uncomfortable but they stopped so it’s okay.”

“Are you sure? They said some pretty inappropriate things.” you pressed.

“I don’t mind that what they said was inappropriate,” he explained, “it’s more that they were talking about me like I wasn’t even here. Like I was some sex doll or something. I don’t mind women finding me attractive, but I do have sustenance.”

“I get it. You shouldn’t be objectified while you’re doing your job.” you told him.

“Kind of hard to remind people I have dignity when I’m standing in front of them in all my naked glory. I can see how that might be distracting.” he winked playfully.

“Ah, there’s that cocky personality.” you threw back at him with a grin.

“Seriously though. Thank you for being on my side.” he told you sincerely.

Electricity shot through your body when he leaned in and gave you a gentle hug. You took a deep breath to steady yourself but that only resulted in breathing in the scent of him, musky and woodsy, yet sweet. It reminded you of cinnamon. It was intoxicating.

You desperately ignored the ache between your thighs and wrapped your arms around him to reciprocate his affections. His body seemed to relax against yours and the embrace lasted a little longer than a hug between mostly strangers should. He pulled away but held you at arms length to watch your features for a moment.

“See, now that’s the kind of look I don’t mind from a woman. Especially one as beautiful as you.” he smirked, turning and grabbing his shirt off the stool before sauntering away and shooting you a shit eating grin as you stand frozen in place.

You shot up, waking with a fright. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath. Images flashing through your mind once more. Your subconscious thoughts led way to the hottest sex dream you’d ever experienced, and of course the star was your male model. You couldn’t stop picturing his mouth on you, his hands on you. You shook your head to clear it. Alone in your bed, you couldn’t get that cocky grin out of your mind. You tried to fight it, you really did. You tried to redirect your mind anywhere but his plump lips, his perfectly sculpted jaw, the way his warm skin felt against yours when he’d hugged you…

Shrouded in shame but overcome with desire, you let your hand dance down your stomach underneath the elastic of your pajama shorts, your fingers finding their way to your slit. You closed your eyes, imagining it was Jungkook’s fingers inside you instead. You pumped them slowly in and out of yourself.

“Ungh… fuck. Jungkook.” you whined, writhing against your fingers, trying to find that spot that drove you crazy.

You picked up the pace, letting your fingers find a delicious rhythm inside of you, wondering what it would feel like if it were Jungkook inside of you instead. His cock was so pretty. It took everything you had not to stand up and start sucking it every time you saw it.

“Jungkook.” left your lips as your whines got louder, moving your attention to circle at your clit with your juices as lubrication.

You wished you had a picture of him to look at while you pleasured yourself to the idea of him, but you let your imagination take control, replaying images from your dream, and creating new fantasies about the model with the sultry eyes. You were close, and the closer you got to the edge, the louder you became. You swore you could almost hear the faint sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing along with your own, but it must’ve been your imagination running wild.

Your orgasm crashed over you, Jungkook’s name leaving your lips repeatedly, like he was the only thought you could muster when your brain turned off and your high took over. You fucked yourself through it, soft whimpers leaving your mouth as you pulled your fingers out. You padded your way to the bathroom to wash up, climbing back into bed not nearly as satiated as you’d hoped to have been. You drifted to sleep anyway, thoughts of Jungkook and the hope of seeing him again soon on the forefront of your mind when unconsciousness took over.

Jungkook was early today, you noticed as you walked into the art room. You were the first two to have arrived, you wanted to make up for being late the previous week.

“Hey. What are you doing here so early?” you asked, setting your bag down as you made your way over to him.

“Needed to talk to you.” he responded, voice low and husky.

“Everything okay?” you asked, concern filling your chest.

“No. Everything is not okay.” he hissed, trapping you against the wall.

You shivered at the sudden change in his demeanor, at his body so close to yours, at the dominating tone of his voice.

“I’ve been horny as hell all week.” he grunted, rutting his hips into yours.

“O-oh.” was all you could muster for a response, your body immediately reacting to his movements and sending moisture to your core.

“Imagine my surprise when I got a call from you late Saturday night.” he smirked, lips ghosting over the hollow of your throat, allowing his cool breath to fan against the area. He watched your skin flush crimson and felt your heart rate pick up.

Saturday night? You hadn’t called him. Saturday night you were… oh.

“Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you sound when you’re moaning my name?” he teased, rolling his hips and pulling them back before pinning you to the wall with them once more, his erection pressed firmly against your aching heat.

“I-” you began to explain, but he cut you off.

“Fuck, the way you sound when you cum… I nearly came too. Listening to you fuck yourself for me. Tell me, what were you thinking about when your fingers sunk into that pretty little pussy? Was it my mouth?” he questioned, letting his lips graze along the shell of your ear.

“Was it my cock?” he ground his hardened member into you once more. “Maybe it was my tongue.” he mused, licking a bold stripe from the swell of your breasts to your collarbone.

A whimper was forced from your throat at his ministrations. You were hyper aware of every breath Jungkook took, feeling his body move against yours. You were also aware that at any moment, people were going to start filing through the door for class.

“Jungkook.” you breathed, a warning.

Or was it a promise?

Jungkook groaned, biting down on the side of your neck and sucking a purple bruise into the exposed flesh, then blowing cold air over the injured spot to soothe it. Your entire body shivered. Jungkook’s head turned as he heard footsteps approach the door. With a pointed look directly into your eyes, he stepped back from you and put much needed space between his body and yours, just in time for the first arrival to walk through the door.

You must’ve been a sight to behold, flushed and breathing heavily while pressed up against the wall. You hadn’t been able to make yourself move after Jungkook stepped away. He looked unbothered, but you were about to burst. You could feel your arousal slipping down your leg. You cursed yourself for wearing a skirt.

Jungkook, however, was thrilled with your outfit choice for the day. Especially since once you’d taken your seat at your easel, he had a front row view of your white lacy panties. Jungkook had already stripped naked for today’s modeling session, having put all of his effort into calming his dick down so he wasn’t hard in front of everyone. However, his efforts were moot when he noticed the dark wet patch imprinted on the ivory fabric that covered your heat.

Jungkook bit down on his lip, nearly drawing blood as his eyes latched onto your core. You shifted in your seat, attempting to press your thighs together to find some relief, an action which made Jungkook smirk to himself. Until his cock started reacting. In front of everyone. Jungkook wasn’t sure if he was more turned on or more embarrassed when he noticed your gaze unwavering on his hardening member. Your mouth hung open slightly, drool pooling at the edges. Jungkook chuckled to himself.

The other members of the class were just as astonished as you were, but Jungkook paid them no mind. All he could think about was getting inside of you. He couldn’t stop picturing the way your pupils had blown out just at his words, the way your breath hitched when he touched you. He bet you’d be so responsive when his fingers came to tease along your folds. He wondered how tight you were, if you’d be as loud as you were on the phone or even louder? Surely he could make you scream if you’d been that loud with just your own fingers?

Jungkook gave up trying to control his raging boner the moment he saw your arousal pooled at your core on display for him. Suddenly, he saw your hand sneak between your legs and tease along the ivory fabric. His gaze snapped up to your face, your eyes alight with mischief when they met his own. Your fingers pushed the damp fabric aside and began circling around your clit. Jungkook was the only one who could see from his position at the front of the room.

You were putting on a show for him, torturing him when he could do nothing about it. His eyes narrowed as he glared at you, but your face remained impassive, the epitome of feigned innocence. But like always, Jungkook saw the real you behind your heavy lidded gaze. You couldn’t hide from him, he could read you like an open book. There was nothing innocent about the way you were licking your lips, slowly dragging the swollen flesh between your teeth teasingly.

Your fingers spread your folds so Jungkook had a perfect view of your clit as you began rubbing it in slow circles. Jungkook’s eyes were glued to your bundle of nerves and the way your fingers teased at it. You gathered some of your slick to coat your fingers and lubricate them so they slid along your cunt with ease. Your digits were shiny, covered in your arousal. Jungkook nearly came when he watched in agony as you inserted two fingers into your entrance, pulling them back out and twisting them so he could watch the light reflect off your wetness. You stuck them in your mouth and sucked your juices off seductively before going back to your sketch.

Jungkook could not wait to punish your naughty behavior. He couldn’t wait to wipe that satisfied smirk off your face with an expert flick of his tongue. You had an attitude now, but once he was balls deep inside that soaking wet pussy he was sure you wouldn’t be quite so eager to tease him. You weren’t going to cum until you were crying and begging for it, he’d already made up his mind.

The minutes ticked by excruciatingly slow, each passing second felt like an eternity as Jungkook waited for class to be over. It felt like his dick twitched every time the little hand on the clock did. No matter what he did, no matter what he thought of, Jungkook could not get his erection to subside. His thoughts only led back to the lewd way you’d sucked your own arousal off your fingers.

Jungkook thought he might cry tears of joy when you finally dismissed the class with a chipper wave of your hand and a sweet smile. The second the last person walked out the door, Jungkook shut it and you heard the click of the lock echo throughout the empty room. You swallowed nervously, bending over to grab your bag, earning a hearty laugh from Jungkook.

“Oh baby girl… you really think I’m just going to let you leave after the little show you put on for me?” he purred, advancing toward you quickly until his body was flush against yours, breath tickling the space below your ear. “So naughty, teasing daddy like that.” he tsked.

His fingers trailed their way up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You shivered under his touch, though it was barely even there. His skin danced along yours, coming to rest at the curve of your breasts.

“Mmm… I think I’d like to taste these.” he grinned, suddenly yanking your tank top down so that both of your nipples were exposed to the bitter cold of the room.

A smirk played on his lips at the gasp that snuck its way past yours. His head dipped, and you thought he’d immediately take one of your nipples in his mouth, you were salivating over the thought of his warm, wet mouth on your perky buds. Instead, his pillow soft lips found yours, his tongue roaming along until you parted your lips and granted him access.

His tongue danced with yours as he brought his hips closer to grind into your aching center. You had never wanted anyone as badly as you wanted Jungkook. The man pressed against you had you brainless and ready to do anything he asked with a simple roll of his hips.

Jungkook decided he didn’t like being the only naked one, and pulled your shirt above your head. Were you shivering from the cold air or Jungkook’s predatory gaze? Hell if you knew. Jungkook’s nimble fingers had your bra unhooked in a suspiciously short amount of time but you paid that no mind. He flung it across the room and his mouth was on your breast in an instant. Slick tongue working against your erect nipple while the other was massaged by his large hand. Every movement of his tongue, every playful pinch of his forefinger and thumb against your sensitive skin was sending lightning bolts straight down to your heat.

Jungkook’s mouth left your breast with an audible “pop!” since he sucked the flesh as he pulled away, switching his efforts to the neglected side, this time mixing it up by grazing his teeth ever so softly along the most sensitive part. Soft whimpers left you and you effectively became putty in his hands... and mouth. His tongue darted out to give a final flick against your sensitive bud before his hot kisses descended south. He kissed along the expanse of your stomach, slowly working his way down, sucking and nibbling as he went to leave small bruises dotted over your skin. He flipped your skirt up, exposing the lacy white panties that had been taunting him for hours, and the dark wet patch where your arousal soaked through them. Jungkook let out a growl, ripping the ivory fabric from your body and tossing it aside, revealing your pussy to him.

“So fucking beautiful. Better than I’d imagined.” He praised.

Without warning, his tongue darted out and swiped along your folds. Your knees buckled but Jungkook’s strong arms held you up, hands on either of your hips to keep you still and pressed against the wall while he worked his tongue along your slit then against your throbbing clit.

“Shit!” You cried out, body jolting forward and hands coming to rest on his shoulders when his plump lips wrapped around the sensitive bundle and sucked harshly.

Jungkook showed no mercy, devouring your cunt like it was his death row meal, the final wish of a man with nothing to lose. He lapped at your juices as if it were the last thing he’d ever do. Your entire body was thrumming, shaking violently as your orgasm was wretched out of you with no warning.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer, or a curse, you weren’t sure. The only thing you could focus on was the blinding white euphoria his tongue had shoved you headfirst into. You would’ve collapsed if Jungkook hadn’t held you up, allowing you to slowly sink to your knees to meet his posture as your body twitched and shook at the aftermath of your mind blowing high. Your breathing ragged and your eyes wide, you watched the satisfied smile appear on his angelic face. Cocky bastard. Sexy, skilled, ridiculously beautiful cocky bastard.

“Still feeling like a tease?” Jungkook asked, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as he raised an eyebrow at you. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly, and all of his words sounded like another language at the moment.

“What?” You asked, causing him to laugh a bit at your clearly fucked out state of mind. Although the both of you were stripped down to almost nothing (save your skirt) and on your knees in the ground, it was clear who held the power between the two of you.

“You wanna taste yourself on my tongue?” He offered, already beginning to lean forward as he reached his arm out to pull your body closer to his, but you shook your head, an idea playing in the back of your head as you quickly conjured up a plan that’d have him weak and panting instead.

“I’d rather taste you on my own. Stand up.” You ordered.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your cute attempt at telling him what to do as if he hadn’t successfully put you in your place a minute or two ago. He stood nonetheless, vaguely interested in whatever you had up your sleeve. His goal was to make you suffer, but he supposed you could have a bit of fun before he fucked you brainless over that desk that sat a few feet away from the two of you.

You shifted yourself around a bit, as did he, so he now had his back pressed against the wall. You sat submissively under him, although Jungkook was anything but while he had ravaged your sweetness with his tongue.

“You’re pretty with your thighs around my face, but there’s just something about you on your knees.” Jungkook teased, his cockiness never failing to make an appearance as he ran a hand through your hair in appreciation.

You hummed to thank him, a sly smile of your own playing on your lips as you slowly lifted your small hand up to his cock. This small action alone had him tensing up completely, hissing quietly as you squeezed your hand loosely against his length repeatedly until he had to intertwine his fingers with your locks and pull your head up.

“You’d better stop unless you want to walk out of this room with my cum dripping down your face.” He warned.

You shrugged, leaning forward a bit, placing your free hand on his thigh while you stroked his cock slowly, your eyes honing in on the clear liquid that leaked from the tip of his length. You licked your lips at the thought of swiping it away with your tongue, but you weren’t supposed to give in this easily. This wasn’t a part of your plan, but you’d give anything just to keep seeing the expression of pure ecstasy on his face.

You continued to stroke him with your hand, purposely digging your nails into his thigh to see if it’d bring a reaction out of him. A shiver ran from his spine to the tips of his toes as you did this, and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past your lips.

“You like a little pain?” You teased, narrowing your eyes at him in defiance as you stuck your tongue out, pressing it slowly against his shaft.

You licked a stripe from his balls to the angry tip, looking up at him through your lashes as you swiped the precum away like you originally intended.

It was just as salty as you expected it to be, but you didn’t mind at all. You closed your eyes as you brought your tongue back into your mouth, pressing your lips together and swallowing slowly as you allowed the taste of him to burn down your throat.

“You taste just as good as you look.” You commented seductively, pressing a chaste kiss to his cock head and swirling your tongue around it once more before you began to spread your lips over the expanse of his cock.

Now, you’d definitely had your experience with this sort of thing once or twice before, but Jungkook was big, and there was no way you were fitting your pretty mouth over all of him, no matter how desperately you wanted to. As much as you were dying to get all of him in your mouth, for your own safety and wellbeing, you opted to use your hand to continue to apply some relief to what you couldn’t quite reach with your mouth.

“Oh, shit. That’s so good, baby.” You weren’t sure if he was just in the moment, but your heart fluttered a bit at the pet name.

You hollowed your cheeks as you struggled to take more of him into your mouth. You gagged a handful of times, but Jungkook didn’t seem to mind. He even pulled all of your hair into his hands, using it as a sort of makeshift leash as he pushed you further down onto his cock, wanting to hear you gag on him again.

You worked quickly with your mouth, alternating the flicks of your wrists with your hand to keep Jungkook guessing. He had pressed his weight fully against the wall behind him, his leg twitching occasionally whenever you ‘accidentally’ dragged your teeth along the underside of his dick, not enough to cause any real harm, just enough to ignite a spark.

“Oh my God…” He whimpered.

You did yourself the favor of looking up at him while your mouth was stuffed full, your pussy spasming at the sight. His mouth was hung open in a silent moan, his eyes were screwed shut in pleasure, and a few of his sweaty black locks were stuck to his forehead. You figured you could make him cum just like this, but you’d rather be his personal cumbucket. Was it a bit selfish? Maybe, but you couldn’t care less at the moment. He looked absolutely delectable above you.

He cracked his eyes open just as you slid his cock out of your mouth, gathering up the saliva that built up while your lips were stretched around him and spitting it back out onto his manhood. You were deliberately slow with this, wanting him to feel it the moment it made contact with his head. You watched his face as your saliva spilled down onto his shaft, using this as lubrication as you continued to pump your fist against him.

You sank down further onto your knees, only able to give his balls a few licks with your tongue, and a short lived massage before you were yanked backward, head first. Your immediate reaction to this was a rough squeeze to his cock, since it was the only thing in your grasp at the moment. You let out a strangled groan as he clenched his jaw while looking down at you, cock standing at attention as he debated his next movement.

“Get the fuck up.” He commanded you, although he pulled you up off of the ground by the grip he had on your hair on his own.

He pressed your back to his chest, ensuring you felt every ripple of his muscles pressed against your naked skin. Making a path with his hand from your stomach, in between your breasts, then finally to your neck, he held you firmly against him, so you had no space between your flushed bodies. You felt every rise and fall of his toned chest, his breathing just as ragged as yours.

“I’m going to bend you over that desk there, alright?” He whispered into your ear, his cool breath fanning over your cheek as you nodded eagerly, just wanting him to follow through with his plan instead of telling you the process. After all, actions do speak louder than words.

“When I let you go, I want you to walk over there like a good little slut and bend over. Flip that skirt up and show me your cunt. Can you do that for me?” You felt his cock twitch against your inner thigh, and you nodded again with a quiet moan.

“Go.” He let you go with one word, watching you swiftly walk over toward the desk as he took his length in his right hand and stroked it quickly while approaching you with loud, threatening footsteps.

You weren’t sure how that was possible since he didn’t have shoes on, but it only excited you further. You complied with his orders easily, pressing your cheek against the cold surface of the desk. You hiked the skirt up a bit around your waist and wiggled your ass teasingly as you waited for him to come ravage you.

“You’re cute, but you’re so annoying.” He grunted from behind you, slapping both of your ass cheeks with his heavy hands, massaging them afterward before delivering two more harsh slaps.

“You work me up in front of a room full of people, and then try to collect your stuff afterward as if you weren’t practically begging me to use you? Bullshit.” He spanked your ass again, relishing in the way you hissed after every hit and gripped the edge of the desk tighter.

“I’m going to make a mess out of you, you know that?” He pressed his chest against your back, pushing his weight onto you as he whispered into your ear.

You nodded, his eyes scanning over the expanse of your back as his long fingers momentarily kneaded your muscles.

“What’re you waiting for, then?” You quipped, although your voice sounded a bit flat because of Jungkook’s body weight. He laughed as he pulled himself up off of you.

Silently, he grabbed his cock and lined it up with your pussy as he pressed the head against your tight hole. You moaned at this, inhaling sharply as he just barely slipped himself inside of you. You whimpered in defeat as he pulled out quickly afterward, not wanting to give you the time to savor the feeling of being stretched out by his length.

“I swear, if you wait any longer then I’m going to fuck myself on your dick.” You threatened shakily, to which he smirked at.

“Is that so?” He let go of his cock. “Be my guest, then.” He shrugged, although you couldn’t see him.

You turned around swiftly, beyond irritated at whatever game he was trying to play. You were turned on, and you wanted to be fucked silly, but he was acting like a brat.

“You know what? Fine, I will.” You challenged, looking over your shoulder at him to see the intrigued smile on his face.

You rolled your eyes, roughly grabbing his cock and pushing yourself back onto him hastily. Jungkook disapproved of this, landing a sharp slap to your right ass cheek he gripped your hips roughly. He held you securely, preventing you from sliding back any further onto his cock.

“You’d better slow down, sweetheart.” He warned shakily, his nails leaving small imprints on your skin as he moved his hands down to your ass. “I haven’t cum yet, and your little hole is so inviting.”

You gulped, although something about his threat to cum inside of you was one step closer to pushing you over the edge.

“Take it slowly. Take me in slowly, so I can feel you.” With this he let go of your ass, watching with lidded eyes as your arousal coated more than half of his manhood.

He licked his lips at this, loving the way your juices spilled onto him, and onto the desk. Perhaps he’d make you lick his cock clean afterwards. That’d be a sight to see.

Your hips stuttered before you could take the last few inches, which sent a gigantic boost to Jungkook’s ego. Of course, he knew he was big, but something about seeing you struggle to take him in fully even after you talked all of that shit previously was egging him on.

“You at your limit, baby?” He mocked you, and as soon as you tried to respond, your voice cracked.

He hummed, chuckling slightly as he slid his hands up from your ass to your back, scratching his stubby nails at your flesh before threading his fingers in your hair once more. He roughly yanked your head back with a malicious smile. Your body jolted at this, which sent the rest of his cock plunging into you in one go.

“God, that’s fucking it. Look at you, swallowing Daddy’s dick like a good girl. You look so pretty stuffed full like this.” You were incomprehensive, your entire being filled with thoughts of Jungkook pummeling your pussy out of existence.

“Not so eager to use that fucking mouth now, are you? Hm?” He asked, pulling your head back a bit further.

Your back was so arched that you could see the ceiling and a bit of his face, and this new position made it so much easier for his cock to brush against that spot that made you a mumbling mess.

“You should be ashamed, really.” He said, dropping his head down to look at your ass as he slowly began to work his hips against it. “Have you got anything to say for yourself?” You were taking him so well, but he couldn’t let his unbothered persona falter just yet.

“Well?” He let go of your hair, and you immediately dropped your head forward, your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you struggled to hold yourself up on your elbows while he ruthlessly fucked you.

“You’re s-so fucking big.” You mumbled pathetically, causing Jungkook to twitch inside of you.

“I know. You like Daddy’s big fat cock inside that tight little pussy. Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you like it. Tell me how good you feel.” He pushed one of his hands down against your back, silently telling you to press your breasts against the desk. You obeyed, hissing as your nipples hardened instantly after making contact with the cool surface.

“I like—o-oh, oh shit.” Your jaw fell slack as Jungkook began to pick up the pace of his thrusts, his expert hips moving with such sharpness that you could feel it each time he pulled back a bit to fuck himself into you again. Although you didn’t do what he asked of you, he didn’t pressure you any further, his only goal to use you as his cute little cocksleeve.

“Spread your legs for me.” You immediately moved to follow his request, unable to balance yourself on your feet now. This was no problem, as Jungkook easily took a secure grip around your waist to keep you pressed against the desk.

“You feel so good around me like that, oh shit.” Jungkook whimpered, his tongue hanging out of his mouth slightly as he jabbed his fingers into your sides and pulled you onto the tips of your toes. You were startled at the sudden change, although it allowed for him to drive deeper inside of you.

“Put your hands on the edge of the desk now. Do it right fucking now.” He growled like some sort of feral animal. You scurried to follow his orders, just as he began to slam his cock so powerfully inside of your cunt that your hips banged against the metal desk with every other thrust, and you knew there would be bruises.

“F-fuck!” You screamed, and Jungkook responded quickly by throwing his hand messily over your mouth to quiet your moans.

“Shh, Y/N. We can’t let you get caught being a little slut.” He chuckled breathlessly, short moans and growls leaving the back of his throat as he continued to piston his hips in and out of you, your ass slapping against his abdomen every time the two of you connected. You were teetering over the edge, desperately wanting to lose control underneath him.

“I’m cumming, I’m gonna c—JUNGKOOK!” You yelled out in frustration as he slipped his cock out of you.

He grunted, pushing some of the clutter on the desk away before picking you up and setting you on top of it, so he could see your face.

“One,” He said, his voice raspy which caused you to shiver, “You’re not cumming unless I get to see your face when you do. Two,” He continued, slipping himself back into you with ease due to how fucking soaked you were, “You’re not cumming until you beg for it.” He reached for one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, gripping onto it as he sustained the rapid pace of his manhood plunging into your inviting heat.

“I-I wanna cum, Daddy.” You whispered in defeat, a twinkle in Jungkook’s eyes as he was beginning to finally get you where he wanted you. You weren’t begging just yet, though, which was unfortunate for you because you wouldn’t get an orgasm, and Jungkook was going to cum inside you either way.

“You do, Princess?” He whispered back, still holding your leg while his other hand moved to the back of your head. He pressed your forehead against his, your noses bumping as Jungkook fucked you. You nodded, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes at having to hold your orgasm back.

“You aren’t begging for me, baby. Beg me to give you permission to cum on this dick.” You cried out weakly, knowing that you’d have to give in to his rules in order to achieve that sweet release. It was right in the tip of your tongue.

You placed your arms around his neck, hanging them there loosely as you gazed into his eyes, which were full of lust and carnal desire.

“Can I cum o-on your c-cock—a-ah!” You failed miserably to finish your sentence, as Jungkook began pistoning his cock inside of your cunt with such force that the desk began to screech against the ground a bit, knocking at one of the metal racks behind it.

“I’m so close to cumming, pretty girl. Talk fast.” He warned, thrusts quickly becoming unorganized. You nodded.

“Please let me cum! I-Iv’e learned my lesson, I swear I have! I’m so close Jungkook, p-please!” He grunted his approval, nodding once and delivering about a dozen more thrusts before he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, biting down on the skin there as he began to shoot rope after rope of his cum deep inside of your greedy cunt.

You came with him, your body tensing up for a few moments before your release smacked you like a bus, heavy and unapologetic. Due to the wild fuckfest the two of you had, though, a few utensils hit the ground, and a can of paint was wobbling on the edge of the rack that the desk was smashing against a few seconds ago. Jungkook finally lifted his head up, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. He placed one final kiss to your forehead before locking eye contact with you.

“I know for a fact that was the best fuck of your life.” You laughed, shaking your head at the fact that his cocky attitude would never settle. Not even after using up (what you assumed was) all of his stamina.

You didn’t mind it, though. In fact, you were starting to grow fond of it.

“It certainly was, but look at all the—“

The can of paint gave way to the pull of gravity, and tumbled to the ground with a deafening crack, the contents of the can flying out and splattering directly onto you and Jungkook. You knew what it was as soon as it hit your skin, and you immediately wondered why someone would leave a damn can of open paint on the top shelf.

It was brief, a big splash, so neither of you really had time to react to it. When you finally lifted your head up, Jungkook’s chest was covered in black paint, as were your legs and skirt. Seriously, the one fucking day you decide to wear pink?

“—Mess. Look at all the mess.” You finished your sentence with a giggle, thankful that you kept towels in the room during your classes. It’d never come out of your skirt, but at least you could wipe it off of your skin.

Your gaze met Jungkooks and you both burst out in a fit of giggles. You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, the polar opposite of the domineering man who’d just rocked your world minutes before. This Jungkook was soft, open, lighter. His laughter was the most beautiful melody that had ever graced your ears and you wouldn’t have minded listening to it for a very long time. His joy was contagious, and you couldn’t stop the goofy smile from spreading across your lips as he wrapped his arms around you in a playful hug.

Though his touch still sent electricity through you, this was different. It was sweet and gentle. You let yourself melt in his embrace, drinking in the way he made you feel so secure, so wanted. You sighed happily. You grinned mischievously then, collecting some of the paint off of the surface of the desk and wiping a thick stripe of it across his cheek. He froze in shock then glared at you, a hint of a smile playing on those gorgeous lips.

He reached out to grab you, but you were too fast, shrieking in delight as you ran away from him. Jungkook chased you around the small art studio, his laughter floating through the air like your favorite song. His arms snaked around you and he pulled you close, rubbing his cheek against yours to spread the paint over your skin. Your giggles dissolved as he placed a tender kiss to your lips.

Pulling away and placing a peck on his nose, you began pulling your clothes back on. Jungkook watched you, admiring the way your body moved, how much sweeter you were once your attitude had been properly taken care of. You smiled at him over your shoulder, and he couldn’t recall a time when he’d ever seen such a beautiful smile on any other woman. He couldn’t recall seeing another woman who even compared to you.

Then realization brought a similar smile onto his own lips, and Jungkook thought to himself, that he just might have found the one.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x you #bts jungkook #jeon jeongguk

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sadpotatoondrugs · 4 years

Text

Time For a Change [Ch.2]

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Ever since receiving the letter from École des Beaux-Arts, the life in the Dupain-Cheng household has been pretty hectic.

Sabine and Tom, although believing in their daughter’s great talent, began taking on more difficult orders in case the scholarship wouldn’t be granted. They wanted the best for their daughter, and were determined to do anything to make that girl’s smile permanent. The tuition wasn’t the lowest, but they could manage to pay for it. Granted, they might not be able to go on a vacation when summer strikes as they normally would, but that was the price they were willing to pay to ease the troubles their daughter had been having in the past couple of months.

Marinette, on the other hand, had been locked in her room for the majority of her days. Going outside was either because of school, or because her other persona was needed in the streets of Paris. Occasionally, she also helped out in the bakery, noticing her parents’ obvious effort in making more money for the tuition. But she was still focused on her studies the most.

Her classmates noticed the sudden change in the ravenette’s mood. Going from the straight-faced ‘I don’t care’ attitude to one reminding them of the old Marinette. Of the Marinette that wasn’t a bully. Of their Everyday Ladybug.

At first, they were hopeful that she finally came to her senses. That she finally chose to drop the jealousy and realized that Lila is actually not as bad as she thought. They even approached the girl with hopeful smiles on their faces, acting as if there were never any problems between them. Their faces fell right after the smile on Marinette’s face turned into a disgusted gesture and she asked them harshly what they wanted.

After a bit of a fight happening, they returned to their seats. They were curious as to why their class’ newest bully appeared so happy all of a sudden, but shrugged it off. They shouldn’t care about her, she didn’t deserve their attention. Not until she changed her attitude.

For Marinette, nothing has changed in school. There were still the occasional attempts to trip her as she minded her business in school, the occasional fights, and so on, so on. As the days continued, though, she became more and more excited to be out of the school. She was almost finished with the essay and she was satisfied with her portfolio.

Now, only to retrieve the school documents.

Sabine made her way through the empty school as quickly as possible, choosing to evade any encounter with her daughter’s soon to be ex-classmates. She swiftly made her way towards the headmaster’s office and entered after hearing a brief ‘come in’.

“Ah! Good afternoon, Madame Cheng. How may I help you?” Mister Damocles seemed surprised to see her, she noticed.

“Good afternoon, Monsieur Damocles. I apologize for not calling the school first, but this is a matter I hope will be handled quickly.” She started politely, although she wanted to scream at the corrupted headmaster for everything that he let happen to her daughter. But she knew better. “I came here to retrieve my daughter’s files. All of them. And hand in the documentation about my daughter’s transfer, as she will no longer be attending this school.” The headmaster’s face immediately switched to a shock. Clearing his throat, he calmly asked why her daughter doesn’t want to attend the school anymore. Sabine smiled sweetly.

“Well, there are many reasons. The school she will attend is giving my daughter more opportunities to pursue her future career than your school ever did. The programs they offer are simply perfect for our daughter. And of course, they really prioritize their students, their privacy, and most importantly, their security. Which is something I recall your school is greatly lacking, seeing as you expelled my daughter without even checking the security cameras or neglected how my daughter has been bullied for the majority of her school days here. So, the real question is for me; why didn’t I let my daughter transfer out of this school earlier?” The headmaster was flabbergasted, staring at the parent with a bit of sweat pouring down his forehead as he realized the truth behind the woman’s words.

“So, the documents, please?”

“Of- Of course. Erm” Begrudgingly, the headmaster reached into the appropriate cupboard where the students’ folders were kept and, after a little bit of searching, pulled out a slightly full folder labeled “Dupain-Cheng” and gave it to Sabine.

“Thank you, Monsieur Damocles, and goodbye.” Hearing the door close and the sound of footsteps slowly retreating, he sighed out and turned to do the appropriate paperwork. The teacher would be notified after the classes are over.

Sabine made her way outside just as the school bell rang. Sighing in relief, she swiftly went towards the bakery, missing the curious stares of a few students coming out of the school.

The documents, along with the essay and the portfolio, were sent the exact same day they were retrieved. The family waited patiently for a response, with Marinette finally taking a breather and only helping out in the bakery to relax. She didn’t worry about school anymore ever since her mom retrieved her folder from them.

Honestly, when she saw her mom with her folders in her hands, she felt immediate relief. She had no idea how much she dreaded coming to Francois Dupont until she felt the happiness from leaving. The documents were a sign. A sign that it was finally over. A sign that she was about to start anew.

A sign she was more than happy for.

She wondered, was there any other solution to this problem? Was there any other way she could’ve handled this ‘Lie-la situation’?

She would never know. But if this solution was the one to bring her a normal life again, she was more than happy to take it.

“Marinette? There’s a customer in the bakery.”

“On it, maman!” Putting her apron away, she entered the bakery to come face to face with a blonde woman. She smiled politely. “Good afternoon, Madame. How may I help you?” The woman smiled in response, offering her a hand to shake.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, correct?” Marinette nodded and took her hand, “I’m Elaina Callier, one of the guidance counselor of École des Beaux-Arts. I will be the one to interview you.” Marinette looked shocked. She didn’t expect the sudden appearance. She wasn’t prepared! She was covered in flour and her hair was a mess, she was sure she had a fork stuck somewhere in her hair- it was a terrible first impression.

“I- Em- Oh! Em- I am so, so sorry. I didn’t know you were supposed to arrive today! I must’ve not gotten the email or perhaps, it must’ve fallen into spam…”

“Do not worry, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. My arrival wasn’t announced to you. In fact, I am not here to interview you yet.” Marinette stopped her mumbling, turning to face the woman with a confused expression.

“Oh… You’re not?” The woman chuckled.

“I’m sorry if I caused your panic. I was going to contact you and arrange the date, time and place of the interview. But I planned to come to your bakery anyway.” Said girl smiled and waved it off.

“Oh- I understand.” The two then talked about an appropriate date and settled with meeting two days later in a small café close to the school she was hoping to attend. After giving the woman what she wanted, which was precisely twenty rolls and four croissants covered in chocolate.

When Marinette told her parents, they were confused as to why was the meeting place not the school, which Marinette realized is a good question.

The days leading up to the day were excruciatingly slow but when the day came, Marinette couldn’t be more excited. And more nervous.

She wasn’t sure which was dominating.

She passed by the café a few times when helping her parents deliver something, but never actually went inside. It was a small but cozy café with only about ten tables inside. She was pleasantly surprised to see that it was a cat-themed café, meaning that there were numerous cats and kittens inside available for the customers to pet and cuddle with. The overall design of the café was warm, intended to be as if you were in a modern cottage.

She spotted the blonde woman already inside with a cup of coffee in her hand and a small kitten on her lap. She made sure she looked presentable and made her way towards the woman. She looked up upon hearing the chair in front of her screech and smiled kindly at the young girl. They greeted each other and began discussing the school as soon as the waiter took Marinette’s order.

“First things first, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable here. I don’t want this to feel like an interrogation. It is far from it. This is only a formality that needs to be done. Consider this more of a… Friendly talk rather than a professional meeting, please. We are both equal here.” The woman seemed to be really kind and talkative. Marinette could sense a calming aura around her, which instantly made her feel relaxed.

“Now, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng, we don’t often get any request to transfer in the middle of the school year, what made you switch schools and join us?” The waiter brought back Marinette’s order, hot chocolate with marshmallow and cinnamon. She thanked him before responding.

“Well… There were some problems with my old school that made us consider transferring. Then I stumbled upon your school and once I read more about it, I found out it’s actually better than my old school. It would help me actually improve my skill in designing and sewing. With the courses provided, I would be able to focus on my future career.” The woman perked at the mention of her hobby.

“So you are passionate in fashion. How far would you say you are, skill based?” The girl nodded

“I’ve been designing ever since I was young, at first it was just for fun, then I thought ‘why not try and make it’ and two days later, I was hanging around the bakery in my newly made dress.” The girl laughed, reminiscing the memory “Let’s just say I misunderstood the laughing of the customers as a form of a compliment. I worked hard to get better at designing as well as sewing and right now, I can say I am proud of how far I’ve come.” The woman smiled at the girl, taking sip of her own beverage before tapping away on her phone before sliding it over to Marinette.

“You know, I thought I heard your name somewhere before…” Taking a glance at the phone, Marinette slightly blushed as it revealed an article about Jagged Stone. Specifically, an article about the girl who designed Jagged Stone’s glasses, album covers and (as jagged himself revealed) even his clothing. “That was you, right?”

This is not bragging. You are not acting like Lila. This is a fact. This is your own, true, accomplishment. “Yes, that was me. After designing the glasses, Jagged Stone actually kept in contact with me and would occasionally commission me for some work. At first, it was just for a few ideas on his Albums, until it escalated and he asked me to make him a suit for a gala he was to attend. He’s been sending me commissions ever since.” The woman didn’t hide her awe. She was impressed by the girl’s accomplishments at such young age and wasn’t ashamed of letting it show.

“That’s really impressive. Do you work with any other celebrity like you do with Jagged?”

“Well, I do know a few, though I am not as close with any of them as I am with Jagged. I’ve worked with Clara Nightingale in the past, as well as Gabriel Agreste. Though, I cannot really count that as ‘Work with’, but I did win a contest of his and my work has been displayed in one of his fashion shows.”

“You have a lot of accomplishments for somebody so young. From what I’ve seen on the internet, you have an impressive amount of talent, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng. Our school would be honored to call you our student.”

That was it.

Marinette felt like she could die right then and there.

From happiness, of course. And perhaps shock or even relief. In that moment, all the anxiety she felt in the past couple of months, weeks, hours, just vanished. Or perhaps, her mind just pushed it aside for a little while. She didn’t care at the moment. She was just glad.

“But before we move on, there is something we must discuss.”

And just like that, it was back. Madame Callier put on a serious face as she pulled out a file from her bag. Marinette nodded when the woman looked up, indicating to keep going. “Your grades are flawless, you were really one of the top students at your previous school. And while your attendance is tainted with a lot of late, it is nothing to hold against you, seeing as it did improve in the last couple of months. But,” She slid the file over to Marinette, turning it upside down so that the girl could actually read it’s content. As soon as Marinette’s eyes read the first couple of words, she felt the anxiety in the back of her mind amplifying.

There, on her school report, was the incident from the previous year.

There had been numerous reports regarding Marinette Dupain Cheng and her fellow classmate, Lila Rossi. Marinette had been presumably bullying said classmate ever since the girl transferred from her home country. Various other classmates of theirs reported various acts throughout the year, worrying about the sudden change in Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng’s behavior. They confirmed that Lila often opened up to them about how Marinette had been treating her and demanded something to be done. It was until the second semester of the year did Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng step up her shameful acts.

On March 20, Lila Rossi was seen at the bottom of the staircase, with Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng standing right at the top. Mademoiselle Rossi had been hurt in the process and her knee had to be taken care of by the school nurse. After calling Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng’s parents, Mademoiselle Rossi finally informed us about the situation that had been going on. Marinette had been verbally assaulting Mademoiselle Rossi repeatedly, until it slowly evolved into physical harassment.

Mademoiselle Rossi also stated that Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng stole a family heirloom, which was later confirmed when it fell out of Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng’s locker.

Such behavior couldn��t be overlooked and Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng was immediately expelled from the school.

She didn’t understand. How could this still be in her report? The whole thing had been exposed as nothing but Lila’s lie because of her supposed ‘Lying disorder’. Why was it still there? Was Lila going to actually follow her life everywhere she went? Was she going to actually lose her only chance at getting into the school because of Lila’s lies?

No, she couldn’t let it. She couldn’t let her.

She sighed and looked the woman in the eyes. She saw her eyes widen slightly before softening. And she could guess why. She could feel the tears in the corners of her eyes, but she did everything she could to push every ounce of sadness and fear back.

“I’m sorry. That- Everything in that report is a lie.” And so, she explained everything. She explained her whole situation in school- leaving out any unnecessary details, of course. She couldn’t let Lila win and let her ruin her chance.

She took notice of every change on Madame Callier’s face. Sympathy, anger, confusion. Those were the most prominent ones. Halfway through explaining, a small black kitty with a white dot in the middle of it’s forehead jumped onto her lap and purred. She had no idea whether it just randomly wanted to be petted or if it felt the girl’s sadness and came to her comfort.

Either way, she appreciated the little kitty and knew that if she were to come back, this kitty would surely be her favorite.

By the end of her little biography, both her and Madame Callier’s cups were empty and the kittens in their laps sound asleep.

“We will have to check this with your previous school, as well as your guardians before we remove that report from your card, but you don’t need to worry about it permanently being on there.” She assured with a small smile. “We had our doubts about the report when we first read it. There are too many holes in the story, as well as the lack of evidence. We will consult this with your previous school and further investigation will be done. If the school neglected something, we will contact the school board to investigate the whole school.”

“Thank you… You have no idea how much relief hearing this brings me…” The woman smiled and nodded slightly.

“We do not tolerate bullying of any sort at our school, which is why we were concerned about the report in the first place. I apologize for doubting you, but it is easy to put a mask on nowadays. We knew you mentioned bullying as one of the reasons you wanted to leave your school, but I had no idea how serious it was. I apologize for that. Rest assure that you won’t find such behavior at our school.” A tear escaped Marinette’s eye, which she quickly wiped away.

“Thank you, Madame Callier.”

“No need to thank me, dear.” Marinette smiled at the drop of formalities. After the heartfelt discussion, it finally felt more as a friendly talk than an interview. “We will still need to check the story with your guardians and your previous school. Not that I do not trust you, but we must follow standard procedures.” She put away the file before making some notes on her phone. The kitty in Marinette’s lap suddenly jerked up, stretching and moving to a more comfortable position.

“Why did we meet up in this café, anyway?” She mumbled, eyeing the kitty closely “I mean… Aren’t interviews usually taken care of on school grounds? In an office?” Madame Callier looked up from her phone.

“It is quite simple. Unauthorized people are not allowed on campus. We do not allow random people to walk onto the school grounds due to security reasons. We upgraded our security even more when Hawkmoth began terrorizing the city. And even without Hawkmoth, there are many dangerous people out there. You even mentioned one yourself just a moment ago. We intend to keep such people out of our school for the safety of our students. You and your parents will get permission to enter once you are a student of ours.”

Marinette nodded and Madame Callier went back to taking notes for a while, before switching her focus back to the girl. The two conversed for a few more minutes before they parted ways. As she was walking home, Marinette couldn’t help but feel as if a heavy burden had been lifted off of her shoulders.

She didn’t know whether it was because she was actually accepted, because she would no longer be in that toxic environment, because she would no longer have to worry about her own safety..

Or perhaps, because she finally opened up, and she had a place where Lila’s lies wouldn’t reach her.

After all this time.

She finally felt free.

[masterlist]

#time for a change #Marinette #marinette dupain cheng #MLB #fanfic #mlb fanfic #ml salt #salt #felinette #felix culpa #felix graham de vanily #Felix #ml class salt #lila salt #marinette deserves better

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skrltwtch · 4 years

Text

Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine #fun fact #I wrote this story in early october last year #and it's kind of truth in television for me now

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anotherkindofmindpod · 5 years

Note

this isn’t related to a specific episode but I’m confused about the beginning of John & Yoko’s relationship. I’ve heard so many different things about when/how it started- from she was stalking him to meeting at a gallery to Paul’s manuscripts (or pictures of Paul’s butt?!) to they were sleeping together two weeks after meeting- also varying dates on the 2 Virgins night (before or after NYC?) And was he really pining after her in India? Did he try to bring her? I trust you guys- what’s the deal?

Hello listener, thanks for the ask!

Regarding John & Yoko’s origins: some stories are inconsistent, and some things are unknowable (i.e. internal emotions), but we’ll do our best to lay out what we do know.

Yoko approached Paul first, through a contact (probably Dunbar) related to Indica Bookshop and Gallery. Since Paul was a patron, supporter and friend of Indica and was somewhat known within the art community as a rich celebrity with a growing interest in the avant-garde (music, films and art) he was an obvious choice for an artist seeking funding/exposure. Yoko was an avant-garde artist (performance, gallery and film) whose biggest claim to fame at that point was working with John Cage. This was the credential/name drop with which she approached Paul at his house in Cavendish sometime in late 1965. Paul (being Paul) invited her inside to make her pitch: she was collecting manuscripts from various composers as a birthday gift to Cage. Paul declined. (For the record, Paul has never suggested or intimated that Yoko came onto him at that first meeting, so let’s assume she didn’t and this was strictly business) The following year, in November of 1966, Indica hosted an exhibition of Yoko’s work. This is where John Lennon first met Yoko, when he was introduced to her by Indica co-owner John Dunbar.

This was Yoko’s initiation into the Beatles’ world and it should ALWAYS be told like this, FULL STOP, END OF STORY. Anyone in 2020 who tells the story any other way is a bald-faced liar and a coward.

Does this sound like an overreaction? Is Paul’s part in this story really SUCH a big deal? Let’s reverse things and imagine….

In 1965, John Lennon develops a keen interest in photography. He immerses himself in the photography world, creates a dark room in his house and brings his photo influences into the Beatles’ artwork. John also finances and helps launch a photography gallery in Weybridge.

One day, photographer Linda Eastman shows up at Kenwood to show John her portfolio and ask for one of John’s original photographs. John declines. Paul later meets Linda at her exhibition at Weybridge Gallery. 18 months later, Paul starts dating her, calls her his new partner, declares her the greatest influence in his life, and brings her to every Beatles session. Paul and Linda have a joint photography exhibit at the Weybridge Gallery in 1968, hosted by one of John’s closest friends and mentors.

Paul then loudly and repeatedly proclaims that he was the only Beatle ever interested in photography, he’s responsible for all the visual art in the Beatles oeuvre and implies that John couldn’t stimulate him anymore because he was too square and conservative to understand or appreciate photography.

Be honest and try to imagine that. No one would EVER let Paul and Linda get away with that level of bullshit, but for some reason, Jean Jackets are slavishly obedient to whatever John and Yoko say, regardless of facts.

So anyway, back to those facts...

After the meeting in November 1966, Yoko began to pursue John Lennon at his home, the studio and even Brian’s office. She constantly asked for funding and money, but was probably seeking publicity as well. There are rumors that she was also pursuing John sexually, but to our best knowledge they are unsubstantiated. In 1967, Yoko was REALLY trying hard to get her career off the ground and/or get famous; there are numerous accounts from multiple people in the Beatles circle (Hunter Davies, Michael Lindsay Hogg, Robert Fraser, Barry Miles) that Yoko was hustling nonstop at that time. So while Lennon was her main target, our impression is that she was probably just trying to make inroads with anyone who could help her become famous. Accounts consistently suggest that John intermittently found her intriguing (when he didn’t find her scary or annoying), so I imagine she kept soliciting him because that’s where she made the most progress. Anyway, her stalking is a matter of fact, corroborated by EVERYONE. Also corroborated by everyone is the fact that John began to sometimes talk to her and occasionally let her inside (the same way the Beatles treated other Apple Scruffs), starting in/around late 1967.

Tony Bramwell tells a very bizarre story about John being panicked one day in late ‘67, regretful and paranoid after giving Yoko a hand-written letter and a lock of his hair (?). A frightened John asked Tony to retrieve the items from Yoko. Considering the fact that John believed (until his death) that Yoko had magical powers, it sounds as if John asked her to make some sort of voodoo/love potion. Perhaps their early friendship began as sorceress/client (but who knows? That’s just a guess).

We know that John continued to receive tons of mail from Yoko while he was on retreat in India. According to John, he eventually began to really look forward to receiving these items. Yoko would send bizarre, artsy stuff like a maxipad with a drop of red paint in the middle. Who wouldn’t enjoy weird mail like that? :) According to John (in both 1970 AND 1980), he still only thought of Yoko as a weird artist by that point. He insists he was NOT interested in her sexually or romantically, only intellectually, and there is nothing to suggest that he was lying about that. More importantly, John was having some kind of emotional breakdown in India; he wrote and talked about feeling suicidal in Maharishi's camp. John never specified the exact cause of his breakdown, although he did later pinpoint ongoing feelings of self-hatred and worthlessness.

After returning from India, John was highly emotional, erratic, depressed, and abusing drugs and alcohol at an alarming rate. Derek Taylor recounts John taking some acid trips at his house over two weekends. During one of these weekends, John’s now-friend Yoko (who he still insists he wasn’t sexually interested in) showed up and helped “rebuild John’s ego.” In other words, Yoko threw John a life raft and helped pull him out of the darkest, bleakest depression of his life.

Then in May, after months of erratic behavior, John declared he was Jesus in an Apple board meeting (!). The following night, with Cynthia away for the weekend, John invited Yoko over (or had Mal invite her) and the two of them dropped acid, made some tapes and had sex for the first time. As far as we can tell, this information is accurate as it is corroborated by Pete Shotten (who was making the tapes with John before Yoko came over and replaced him!). Pete said in the morning John came downstairs and shocked Pete by saying Yoko was the answer to all his problems and he was so certain he’d go off and live in a tent with her. That sounds shocking until you realize John was on acid at the time (in that light, not quite as shocking). :) In any event, after that point John and Yoko became basically inseparable for the next 5 years.

There are rumors/theories that John and Yoko were already having sex for months, but so as far as we can tell these are based on nothing but speculation. We believe John’s initial interest in Yoko was intellectual and personal rather than sexual, as he contends. We think John slowly warmed to Yoko over that 18 month period; while initially he might’ve found her annoying, frightening and disturbing, eventually he began to find her quirky, intriguing and charming. We believe their relationship was founded in friendship and that Yoko’s emotional support (and her professed admiration for him as an artist) during that acid trip at Derek’s was vitally important to their bond.

Now, here’s where things get murky.

John was also later quoted as saying that in retrospect he realized he was unconsciously falling in love with her from afar whilst in India - which may or may not have been the case. It is certainly common to look back with fondness on one’s own courtship and also possible to fall in love before you realize you are in love (John described experiencing something similar in 1964) so debating this is kinda pointless and we choose not to nitpick this particular point. However, people have since used this to extrapolate that John was, as you put it, “pining for Yoko in India” which is simply not what John described. John described gradually looking forward to her wacky mail and developing a strictly platonic curiosity about her. If you are highly invested in the John & Yoko love story, it’s easy to spin this into secret “pining,” but when you consider that John was, as he put it, suicidal and going insane, it doesn’t quite make sense. What makes even less sense is why John wouldn’t immediately ask Yoko out upon returning to London in early April, especially since she was aggressively pursuing him at that point. Yoko was present for at least one of the Derek Taylor acid trips in May. Why did John wait an entire month to initiate a private moment with her?

John also said (in Lennon Remembers, I believe) that he privately considered “bringing” Yoko to India (though not as a love interest, but rather in her contemporaneous role as amusing curiosity, i.e. Magic Alex 2.0). Once again, this may or may not be true, but we have no reason to doubt him. Nevertheless, this has also been spun fannishly into “John was pining for Yoko as a girlfriend” which (again) isn’t what he said. :)

To be perfectly candid, John & Yoko’s public persona is almost entirely artificially crafted. THIS is corroborated (and detailed) by nearly everyone close to them- May Pang, Ray Connolly, the Dakota staff, etc. That doesn’t mean their love was fake, just that their relationship was much different from how they portrayed/sold it (or how fanboys like Lewisohn portray it). At the end of the day, they are just celebrities who we don’t actually know. We want things to make sense, which is why I think the “John was secretly pining for Yoko for years and his mind was obliterated by love” appeals to some people. It’s a cleaner, more familiar boy-meets-girl story.

Rumors and conspiracy theories are plentiful and can lead you down all kinds of rabbit holes (fun or infuriating, depending on your POV). The “John & Yoko were secret lovers” one makes things a bit sleazier and sexier (I believe Albert Goldman really leaned into this one!). But if you really want to consider everything, you should also consider this: Yoko’s Tarot card reader John Green insists that Yoko claims Paul was the one she wanted all along.

She told him: Paul was her first choice (as boyfriend), which is why she approached him first. She moved on to John only to make Paul jealous (!), which ultimately backfired when Paul then refused to make advances on John’s new girlfriend. According to Yoko, Paul’s sense of propriety (?!) ironically prevented him from being with Yoko (even though Yoko KNEW Paul was always in love with her)! So Yoko inadvertently got stuck with John, who she didn’t really want. Also she was convinced, in the late 70s that Paul was still in love with her and only married Linda because he was devastated he couldn’t have Yoko!

Green swears this is what Yoko told him (for the record, she also thought Mick Jagger was in love with her). Do we believe Yoko said it, that she believed it? Who knows, maybe?!? Green’s credibility is certainly questionable. But it’s no crazier than much of the nonsense in Goldman’s book (or Francie Schwartz’s), and Green is alleging to quote Yoko directly. Parts of this account do ring oddly true; Yoko does seems interested in Paul in the contemporaneous audio/footage from the late 60s. John did ask Paul not to sleep with Yoko (which Paul seemed a bit nonplussed by). John and Yoko are bizarrely convinced in the early 70s that Paul and Linda’s marriage is doomed (is it because Yoko convinced John that Paul is actually in love with her???). Many believe Yoko was jealous of John’s affection for Paul; could Yoko also be jealous of Paul’s affection and respect for John? Maybe. But this story blatantly contradicts the entire John & Yoko Myth and is so over the top weird... there’s just no room in our understanding for this alternate reality where Paul and Yoko are the true star-crossed lovers :)

The point is that you can’t believe ALL the theories and rumors because they often directly contradict each other. Sometimes you just have to use your own best judgment. We hope this was helpful and that we didn’t just confuse you further. Thanks again for writing in! -Phoebe and the crew

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jeon-googi · 4 years

Text

Winter Bear

— pairing: Photographer!Taehyung X Artist!Reader

— genre: Slice of life, Romance

— words: 4k

— rating: SFW

— warnings: none~

— notes: I think this may be my favorite one so far, I kind of just woke up last night and started writing and tbh I’m really happy with the outcome. I hope you all like it as well

You hadn’t exactly noticed him at first. You mean, at your small arts college you were well into your third year and could name almost everyone by now. Yet somehow in the corner of the class, one nameless student sat. His hair was shaggy and it covered his eyes and most often his clothes were oversized, making his hands look like small paws as he fiddled with his camera. His camera seemed to be the one thing permanently stuck to his body as you noticed, it never left his hands. In class as the professor would demonstrate, you notice rather than looking with his own eyes, he liked to look through the eyes of the camera lense instead, as if it somehow made more sense to him this way.

You found all this out from one class period. Soon the professor dismissed the class and you began to slowly pack your belongings, still captivated by the nameless boy. He too quickly packed up his belongings, a canvas tote with some sketch pads and his pencils, and left with his camera in hand. Now you wouldn’t consider yourself a stalker so to say, but he most definitely caught your attention. Leaving the classroom only a few paces behind him, you kept a discreet eye on him, as he floated through the halls of the art building. He liked to stop occasionally, at windows, and peer through the camera. You figured he was taking photos, as he would pull back and glance at the screen, either a slight scowl or a neutral look on his face. You followed for as long as you could, before he reached the large stairs leading to the roof. There was no way you could follow without suspicion so you turned around quickly and left down the hall, unaware of the camera angled back at you, the gleam in the photographer's eye as he captured the way your hair moved in the sunlight.

Your second day of classes noticing the camera boy went as uneventful as the first one, but today, you learned his name was Taehyung.

“Taehyung, how does the composition of this painting make you feel the artist's emotions?”

Your ears perked up at the mention of his name as you glanced at him from across the classroom, Taehyung deep in thought as he toyed with the strap of his camera. He seemed to be deep in thought as he stared at his desk, but soon enough his head shot up to look at the board.

“The composition isn’t what makes you feel the emotion, it resides with the colors.”

Your eyes widened a bit, you weren’t expecting his voice to be so deep. Your teacher nodded in agreement, “Good I am glad you caught on. See class this painting in particular-”

The rest of the lecture droned on for you, but you couldn’t help but be so curious about Taehyung. You hands absentmindedly sketched down every aspect you watched, the profile of his face, his hands, the hair in his eyes. To be quite honest, you weren’t expecting to feel so inspired.

‘Maybe it’s a sign…’ you thought, as the class ended and everyone began to pack up their things. The teacher had written on the board the final date for your classes end of the year exhibition, and so far, this boy in class was the only thing striking your creative nerve. Making sure you threw everything into your bag, you mustered up enough courage to quickly make your way over to him. Up close, he still didn’t even acknowledge your presence fixated on his notes in front of him, until you gently tapped him on the shoulder, shaking him from his daze.

“Um hey?” You smiled, gripping the strap of your tote bag nervously. He stared at you wide eyed as he nodded a greeting back to you.

“I know this is a little embarrassing, but I’m Y/n...and I was wondering if for my exhibition, you would model for me?” You asked quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. “You see..I’ve been in quite a rut lately and well, right now your kind of like...my muse?” You explained, trying not to sound like a weirdo. You dug through your bag quickly and pulled out the few pages you had sketched and laid them out on the table before him. “I mostly focus on sketches and charcoal, so I wouldn’t need too much of your time...”

Taehyung’s eyes carefully scanned over your work, his hands lightly brushing the lines on the page as he recognized them as his own. His eyes went a little wide as he stared back at you. “You really...want to sketch me for your final grade?” He asked, almost in disbelief. You nodded vigorously. “Yes!”

He smiled a bit at your excitement before collecting your sketches and passing them back to you. “Alright, I guess I’ll do it then.” You really couldn't contain your excitement as you thanked him fervently. You both planned to meet after classes on select days of the week, after all, you didn’t want to take up too much of his time since you knew he would also need to prepare for his final project as well. You used an old classroom on the third floor of the art building that never was used anymore, so you made it your own personal studio. You couldn’t lie, you were nervous. After all, it would be your first time alone with Taehyung. As you began to set up your easel and supplies, the door softly creaked open. Taehyung's head appeared through the door, giving you a boxy smile when he saw you.

“Hey Taehyung!” You smiled, pulling out the last few pieces of your supplies. He entered the room, dressed in a black turtleneck and denim jacket, a small pair of glasses resting gently on his face. He was handsome. That was easy enough, but there was some sort of poeticness to everything he did, from the way he fidgeted with a ring on his finger, or how he fixed his hair. You were utterly captivated by Kim Taehyung.

“I’ll just have you take a seat, and I’ll start the first round of sketches.” you instructed, pointing him in the direction of the chair. He nodded and sat down quickly, his hands placed in his lap. You tapped your pencil to your lip gently as you examined his position. “You look just a little too...stiff. How about we try this?” You walked over to the chair, motioning him to stand up. Quickly you flipped the chair around, sitting with the back against your chest, resting your head on your arms with your fingers gently dangling.

“I think this will be most comfortable for you, and I will get the points I want.” You smiled. Taehyung nodded as he mimicked your position on the chair, glancing at you to make sure he got it right. “Perfect.” you smiled and began to sketch. The silence at first was awkward, more so for Taehyung as he had nothing to do except not move. You realized this a little too late into the session and felt bad immediately.

“So Taehyung...what program are you in right now?” you asked, glancing at him from behind the easel.

“Photography.” he answered simply, moving his eyes so he could look at you a little bit better. You cocked your head as you looked back at your sketch. “If you are in the photography program, why are you in the painting class then?�� You asked curiously. “I realized I had never seen you before so I was curious.” you added. He nodded, “Well it’s all relative isn’t it? I like understanding the emotions of painting so I could replicate it in my photography.” You nodded in understanding as you placed your tools down, stretching your arms out. “That does make sense. Maybe you are a genius Kim Taehyung.” you teased as you stood up, grabbing a water for yourself and one for him as well. He gratefully took the drink as he stretched his arms out, groaning from the stiffness of his body. You pulled a chair up next to him and slumped down exhausted. “That should be enough for today. It’s already looking like how I pictured.” You admitted, wiping your hands clean on your jeans. Taehyung smiled politely, “I’m glad I could be of some help to you.” You watched him carefully, excited at the opportunity to see him so close. “What do you think you're going to do for your final project?” You asked, standing up so you could start packing up your belongings. Taehyung gave a shrug, “I started a few different portfolios throughout the year, I’m just not sure which one I will use.” You nodded in understanding. “What do you like to photograph the most then?” Taehyung thought for a moment as he helped clean up. “People probably. I like seeing what others can’t.” You bit back a smile at his remark. “How very philosophical Taehyung.” You grinned as he chuckled sheepishly. “Well why do you like sketching? Specifically me?” He asked with a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes as you took the paper off your easel, rolling it up into your tote. “Don’t flatter yourself, you just happened to be there when my inspiration struck.” Both of you laughed as you finished cleaning and locking up the room behind you. “See you next time!” You smiled as you gave him a wave goodbye. Taehyung nodded his goodbye as he left down the other end of the hall.

That night you stared at the sketch.

“It really doesn’t capture enough of...him.” You decided as you examined it closely. Sure, you captured his anatomy to the best of your ability but it didn’t scream Kim Taehyung. You started closely at the fine lines of his hands before you realized what was missing.

The next session, Taehyung positioned himself in his original spot, but cocked his head as he heard your request.

“My camera…?”

You nodded, “The sketch is fine but it’s missing some sort of… Taehyung essence if you will.” You explained. “You always have your camera with you, I think that would help in my sketch.” Taehyung nodded, listening to your explanation. He stood up to go to his bag on the nearby table, rummaging through it until the silver device appeared. Putting himself back into the same position but now, from his hand dangled the camera. You stared transfixed on him, now this was exactly what you were missing. Starting to work you quickly sketched the camera into his hand, relishing in the new soul within your piece. Focused on your work, you didn’t even notice his finger moving until his camera shuttered and flashed. You glanced over at him, a mischievous smile on his face. “My hand slipped.” You rolled your eyes as you continued your work, “So Taehyung, you like to photograph people. Who are your favorite people to photograph?”

You could see his eyes flit back and forth as he thought of an answer. “My friends. They inspire me a lot.” He admitted as you nodded to encourage him to continue. He started to name off his group, Jimin and Hoseok from the dance program, and Jungkook who was also in photography. Yoongi from music production. Namjoon from political science and Jin from management. “We’ve all been friends since freshman year.. I’m not sure what I would do without them.” His words were so earnest and full of love it made you feel a bit emotional towards these people you never met. “They sound like really great people Taehyung.” You smiled, setting down your charcoal and wiping your hands on your pants. “We can take a break now.” You smiled, walking back over to him. He smiled his thanks as he stretched out from the chair, groaning with pleasure.

The sunlight shone in from the large window at the front of the classroom, golden dust particles dancing in the air between you two. The sun caressed Taehyung's face gently, casting him in a golden glow. Smiling you glanced away, your heart fluttering gently. “Thanks for taking the time to pose for me. How about we go get some lunch? My treat?” You offered, collecting your bag from off of the floor. Taehyung nodded, “Sounds perfect.” As he collected his own belongings. Leaving the room you both made your way outside onto your school's campus, the trees swaying gently in the spring breeze. You both found out you loved coffee and pastries, loved reading and watching movies, and enjoyed the same music. There was a cafe nearby and you two took some seats on the patio across from each other. Taehyung quickly pulled out his camera and started looking through the lense at the scenery before him.

“Why do you do that?” You asked, sipping on your coffee. He glanced at you with a raised eyebrow, “Do what?” You motioned to the camera, “You always just look through the lense, you’re not even taking pictures” He glanced at his camera and made an ah sound. “Well you never know when the perfect picture could happen. I like to look around and see if anything looks worth shooting-” He resumed his position of looking through his camera before abruptly turning it to you, quickly capturing a photo. You looked at him bewildered as he glanced at the preview on the screen. “Perfect…” He mumbled with a smile, his eyes glancing up to yours. The blush on your face was immediate as you huffed it off, taking a sip of your coffee. Taehyung grinned as well, not taking his eyes off of you and you quickly changed the subject.

Before you knew it, it was the end of the semester, only a few more days before your final exhibition. You were so excited to finally be able to relax and take a break but soon you also realized, you only had one more sketch session with Taehyung. Over the course of the last few weeks, the two of you grew close. The air seemed to change between you two during the last few sessions, Taehyung's eyes somehow always finding yours and when you would call him over to see your work, he would lean in close, one hand one the back of your chair and his face close to yours. After sessions you would stare at your work, a twinge of sadness creeping into your mind.

The last session with Taehyung came quick. You found yourself slowly setting up this time around, your hands lingering on the easel and on the paper before you. You almost didn’t even hear the door open before Taehyung crept in.

“Are you excited Y/n?” He asked with a smile, taking his seat in the center of the room. You cocked your head before he laughed softly, “It’s our last session, your project will be done soon!” Your smile faltered a bit before you were able to nod your head excited, “I’m ready for a break! How about you? Your portfolio coming along?” You two chatted and discussed while you began your warm up sketch, the daylight casting long shadows throughout the room. Before you knew it, the room was starting to grow dark.

‘No...no, no, no.’ As quick as it began, your last session with Taehyung had to end.

“Wow Y/n these are amazing. I can’t wait to see the final project!” He smiled at you, collecting his belongings. You nodded quietly, rolling up the paper into your bag. It was all too much. You didn’t realize how much you enjoyed his company, how quickly he became a constant in your life. You didn't realize a few tears started falling past your lashes, and Taehyung's demeanor changed quickly. Placing his bag on the nearest table he jogged over to you, your head hanging low as you gripped your tote.

“Y/n, Y/n what's wrong?” He asked concerned, his hand gently reaching for your face, gently lifting your face to his.

“I-t’s nothing…” You sniffled, trying to wipe your face quickly. Taehyung shook his head, “No what is wrong? You wouldn’t be crying if you were fine.” He said softly, his thumb gently tracing soothing patterns on your cheeks.

‘How can I tell him?’

‘Does he feel the same way?’

Your eyes glanced towards the floor before putting on a fake smile, “I’ve just grown so used to seeing you, I’m sad I won’t see my friend as often.”

Taehyung watched carefully as he lowered his hands, “Ah...well were still going to be friends. We can see each other soon.” He said with a smile, “But don’t be sad because of that. Let's get going.”

You couldn’t tell exactly what happened, but Taehyung's demeanor dropped. Mentally punishing yourself for making things awkward you two parted ways in the hall, giving one last wave to each other. It felt as though you were leaving something important behind, but he was right, you could see him anytime, after all he even said you were friends. But that was the issue. In your room, you flopped onto your bed staring at your ceiling.

You didn't want to be friends with him.

You were in love with Kim Taehyung.

The day of your final exhibition was here, and you stood in the classroom carefully arranging your sketches on your display. The class was set up in a museum style, allowing everyone to browse around and visit each other's works, you were even allowed to invite people from other classes. You smiled as some friends came over to see your work before you paused, hearing an all to familiar voice.

“Jungkook bring them in here!”

Taehyung entered the room, his gray sweater rolled up at the sleeves and a brown coat in his hands. A tall boy entered the room, carrying a large easel.

“Namjoon has the other prints, and Jimin and the others are on their way.” ‘Jungkook’ said, placing the large easel down with ease.

‘So that’s Jungkook…’ you thought with a smile, watching the two interact like siblings. Your heart sped up as Taehyung caught your eye, saying something quickly to Jungkook and waving your way. Jungkook turned around as well, giving you a friendly nod. You waved back shyly before returning to arranging your sketches.

Soon the class started, and the chatter and mingling began. A lot of people gave you praise for your work, loving the different poses and points you chose to work on. You smiled as you waved off their praise before a deep voice interrupted your conversations.

“You’re Y/n?”

You looked up, a taller individual looking at you.

“Yeah I am? You are..?”

“Namjoon.” He smiled looking at your work. “You really drew a lot of great pictures of our Tae.” He said, your eyes widening at his compliment.

“He was a great model, I’m really lucky he accepted my offer.” Namjoon nodded as he listened to you, “Have you gone to check his portfolio out yet?” he asked. You shook your head, confused. Namjoon smiled as he covered his mouth trying to hold back a laugh. “Well I think you should, he worked really hard and would appreciate your feedback.” You nodded, excusing yourself from the conversation to find Taehyung's table. His booth was laid out neatly, a single binder on the table. In elegant cursive the name of the portfolio was on the front of the book.

Winter Bear.

Turning the first page you smiled, it was indeed full of candid photos of his friends, all in places they seemed to love. Jungkooks photos were of him in nature and with other friends, Hoseoks was on the dance floor, Jimins at the beach. You were filled with a sense of youth and nostalgia, your eyes watering at the blatant love Taehyung had for his friends. You bit back a smile at a conversation with him that rushed to your mind

“What do you like to photograph the most then?” Taehyung thought for a moment as he helped clean up. “People probably. I like seeing what others can’t.”

Turning the last few pages you realized there were a few extra photos at the end, and some of them struck a vaguely familiar. There was a figure sitting in a chair, a hand delicately reaching towards an easel, the face was focused on the art before them. You paused, staring closer at the work. Was that..you? You quickly looked at the other photos and indeed there was no denying it, the last individual in Taehyung's portfolio was you. There was the photo he took of you at the cafe as well as others you didn’t know of. Tons from you in your studio, some from your walks to the cafe, one from the hallway outside of the classroom. You couldn't help your eyes watering as you reached the final page, a simple quote written in the same cursive.

All the bad days

They’re nothing to me

With you

-Taehyung

Quickly looking around you searched for his familiar head of hair. Namjoon seemed to notice you looking and you caught a discreet motion to the hallway outside of the class. Giving him a smile, you ran out of the room looking up and down the hall for Taehyung.

‘Where could he be?’

You started to panic, unable to think of where he would go to before one idea came to mind. It was worth a shot. Quickly heading up the stairs, you ran to your studio, noticing the door slightly ajar. You paused in front of the door, out of breath, before softly sliding it open.

Taehyung was there. His back against the door, leaning against one of the tables in the room, his hand gently tracing over the easel you had used so many times before.

“Taehyung…” You called, a look of shock on his face as he glanced up at you.

“Y/n what are you doing here?” He asked, his brows furrowed in confusion. You made your way to him quickly, causing Taehyung to lean back against the table.

“I saw your...portfolio.” You said out of breath, looking him in the eyes. He seemed to grow a bit shy as he glanced away from you.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you... I hope you’re okay with it it’s just..” He started but stopped, his voice growing soft as he fiddled with his fingers. You quickly reached out your own hand, taking his hand in yours. His eyes grew wide as he stared at you, “It’s just what Tae?” you pressed.

He let out a shaky breath, “I never wanted to be just friends with you. You inspire me, you make me so happy Y/n but I just...I just didn’t know how to tell you.” He answered, squeezing your hand gently. He looked shocked as you sniffled, your eyes watering.

“You really like me?” you asked.

Taehyung chuckled as he took his hands back, placing them on your cheeks to wipe your tears away. “Very much.” He whispered as he leaned in closer, placing his lips gently against yours. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was going to explode as you placed your hands on his, your mouth moving against his. Pulling back you rested your foreheads against each other, basking in the silence of each other. He glanced at you before smiling, “But how did you know I was up here?” You sniffled before laughing as well, “I met Namjoon...he told me.” Taehyung let out a heartfelt laugh, making a mental note to thank him later. Pulling you into his chest, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, placing a kiss on your head. You nuzzled your head deeper into his chest as he smiled, closing his eyes. You two stayed together like this, the sunlight warming your bodies and the golden dust dancing around you two until you left the studio, hand in hand. The door shut gently, putting the room back into a state of slumber.

You sleep so happily I wish you good night, good night, good night Good night, good night

#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung imagine #taehyung fanfic #bts taehyung

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cecilspeaks · 4 years

Text

164 - The Faceless Old Woman (Live)

[applause]

Jeffrey Cranor: I’m really excited, we wrote this script recently coming up in this last performance for tonight. And I got real excited for writing it, cause we haven’t written like a, to do a live show full length in a new voice. And it was a lot of fun to do.

Joseph Fink: Yeah so tonight we are presenting the first Welcome to Night Vale show that is entirely from the point of view of someone who is not Cecil, this is the time when the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home gets to step out from her secret.. place in your home. [laughter] And tell you a little bit about herself.

Jeffrey: One of my favorite things about writing the Faceless Old Woman stuff is cause the way Joseph and I work is that we’ll write episodes or write parts of episodes and pass it to the other and that person will, sometimes have questions but oftentimes just maybe like add something to it. So a lot of times it’s either, when I get stuff back from Joseph and I dunno if he feels the same way getting stuff back form me, with the Faceless Old Woman script it was always either something really hilarious for something really upsetting. [laughter] And I really love that a lot.

Joseph: This is maybe the most upsetting thing we’ve ever written, I hope you guys enjoy it. [laughter]

Jeffrey: Have fun, good night! [applause]

Joseph: I guess we should start that show we talked about.

Jeffrey: Let’s do it. You guys, let’s welcome to the stage your friend and ours, Mara Wilson!

[applause] [long silence]

Mara Wilson: I am the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. Hello. You don’t know me, but I know you. I know you very well. I’ve been going through your medicine cabinet. You take too much Advil. Do you realize how hard that is on your digestion? I know a couple gelcaps and a glass of water before bed can alleviate a morning hangover, but it also puts you in a bad mood, because you don’t get good sleep with all that extra stress you put on your guts. You know what’s a better hangover cure? Not drinking like it’s the last day of community college. I replaced your vodka with clear Windex, and your Advil with Ipecac. This won’t help your hangovers, but it certainly will be more entertaining for me. I don’t sleep, so I need better late night entertainment than Netflix. I’ve already watched every episode of “Money Heist” and “Criminal Man” and “Planet documentary”, I have to spice it up a little bit.

Which reminds me, sorry about the tarantula incident last week. And here I’m speaking specifically to you, Tony. Yes you, in the shirt. The one hoping I’m not talking about you. I’m not sorry you woke up with a tarantula covering your face, nor that it bit you, causing your eyelids to swell up like Kinder eggs filled with purulent discharge instead of toys. I am sorry that I forgot to turn the flash off of my camera, which alarmed both you and the spider, and I never got a good photo. I’ve been building up my portfolio for an art exhibit I call “Gross Things on a Sleeping Tony”. It’s going up June 1, exclusively in your living room. I’ve already gotten “Open-mouthed Centipede Bouquet” framed. You’re gonna find this show absolutely terrific. Wait no, not terrific, what’s the word? Terrifying.

Tony, you’re one of my favorites in Night Vale. I know you hate your direct marketing job selling high interest credit cards to twenty-somethings, but the benefits are great. You have health care, a 401k, and you get to take advantage of people less fortunate than you. Everything is its own reward. But I’ve read your poetry, you love poetry. To be fair, there isn’t a big job market for poets, but you need to explore what makes you happy. I tattooed one of my favorite lines of poetry on you last month. It’s by Mary Oliver. “Instructions for living a life. Close your eyes. Be scared. Good luck.” And then I drew a little butterfly next to the words. I’m not the best artists, though, so it kind of looks like a radish or a sarcoma. Doesn’t matter, you still haven’t noticed. It’s just right below your right shoulder blade, don’t try to find it now, it’s still healing and given that I used the metal rod from that fondue set in your closet as the needle, it’s possible it’s infected. Better to leave it alone.

Tony, look at me. Imagine where my eyes would be. You have a lot to work through. I’m here to help you, I really am. I’ll prove it by giving you some advice. If a venomous arthropod is on your face, don’t scream.

Anyway, it’s not you Tony who’s bothering me, it’s the new people. They are elderly, like me, and they just moved into a house in the center of Night Vale. Or maybe this is decades from now, time is a little hazy for me. I’ve never been in this house nor noticed it before they moved in. it’s a one bedroom and there are three of them. I thought polyamory, but they have three separate beds and they never speak to each other, rarely look at each other, and never leave the home. The first night I secretly lived in their home, I realized they never slept either. They brushed their teeth, put on pajamas and get into bed. But they all lie there, eyes open, through silent hours of darkness.

I tried whispering to them but got no response. Usually when I reveal myself in the dark, I get the thrill of witnessing horror dawn across a person’s distorted mouth and bulging eyes as they see my faceless face pressed up against their own. One of the best parts of visiting new residents. But not these three. For once, I’m the frightened one.

Speaking of frightening, did you get your taxes (-) [0:08:20] on time Alex? You, you’re Alex. You with the shoes. I had to file for an extension. I don’t owe any money because I have no income, but I’m over 200 years old, never got a social security number, have no permanent address and I wasn’t born in this country, it’s a lot of paperwork. And Alex, you know your Wi-Fi is terrible and I was having a hard time downloading the forms I needed, so I just wrote my name on some yellowish-black Boston lettuce you’ve left in the crisper for the last three weeks. But the leaves kept falling apart, I think more like melting. After about 20 minutes, I got frustrated and just made myself a salad. Also, I used the last of your parmesan cheese, but don’t worry, I replaced it with dried skin I’ve been collecting from your bed sheets. Don’t be grossed out, Alex. Same texture and nutritional value, you won’t know the difference. I got the idea from a Food Network’s “Beat Bobby Flay”, where this one winner tied up Bobby and ran a (micro-) [0:09:17] across his forehead to make a chimichurri sauce.

I love that show, but I’m a bigger fan of HGTV’s “House Hunters”, the desert dystopian version. That’s where I met you, Addie. Yes you, with the face. You were shopping for a new home here in Night Vale. You told the realtor - who was inside of a living deer, its belly horrifically distended and quivering with every one of the agent’s words and gesticulation – that you wanted three bedrooms, a back yard, and something close to an outdoor community space. The first home, the yard was not in good shape, lots of (- remains) [0:09:55] and the lawn was glowing, perhaps from underground radiation testing. It was well under your budget, but you would have had to spend your savings on fixing it up. Also, in the bathroom mirror you saw, crawling across the ceiling, a faceless old woman devouring what looked like a rat. You didn’t need to worry about a rat infestation, Addie. It was a chipmunk. The second home was a condo right in the heart of the arts district. You loved the design: a simple large black cube, no doors, no windows, no interior. A true closed floor plan, so popular these days. But you weren’t sure there was enough room for entertaining, or anything else at all. The house you selected was perfect. Three bedrooms, a Jacuzzi en suite, and a large patio backyard. Plus it was right in the middle of town next to a community dog park. Although you would be disappointed later to learn that your dog had been arrested for domestic espionage after peeing inside the park’s forbidden walls. I think you made the right choice, Addie, but I can’t help wondering every time I watch “House Hunters”, who is this person running away from? You left Queens to move to Night Vale. Queens is where your family lives, where your best friend lives, and your girlfriend of two years. Are you afraid of stasis, Addie? Of being loved, of commitment? You might be afraid of that pinkish ooze coming out of your ear, might wanna see an ENT about that. Or if not an ENT, an entomologist.

Speaking of putting woodboring beetles inside orifices, I tried a similar thing with the elderly room mates who recently moved to town, or will move to town many years from now, again time is strange to me. But these room mates are also so strange. When I went to put a beetle into one of their ears, I noticed a lot of scar tissue there, making the hole too small. In my haste, the beetle scurried away and I got kind of desperate and just made a bunch of spooky moans and hisses like this: [moans, hisses] but not one of the three responded to me. They continued their meaningless pantomime of sleeping, and in the morning they got up and each went quietly about their days. One of them made coffee, but did not drink it. They then went to the window and waved at their neighbor, Susan Willman, who was on her porch stretching before her morning run. Susan looked at the figure in the window next to her and froze. She stared in terror, then darted back into her home and locked the door. Susan has always been unfriendly. I ran her bed sheets through her office shredder as a reminder to be more open and loving toward the world.

The other two room mates climbed into the shower at the same time. I’m not one to get off on others’ sexual activities, I just thought I might see something new, something human here. But no, they stood side by side, cleaning their cold gravity-defeated bodies, not once looking at each other let alone speaking. A squelch and a squish and grey water falling around yellow toenails. They toweled off, but when they hung the towels up, those towels were completely dry.

I’m used to being the one who does inexplicable and disturbing things. Last year during the community players’ production of “Romeo and Juliet”, I decided it would be more fun if they used actual poison. But it was a last minute idea, so the only poison I could find was Borax. Which just gave the two kids playing the leads several unhappy hours in the bathroom on the night after the show ended, so I don’t know. I could have made a stronger directorial choice. But so could the actual director, I get that Shakespeare plays are long, but he cut out all the best parts like the train robbery, and also Tybalt winning his bowling league. Although I did appreciate that they left in Juliet’s famous line: “Good night, good night, your blood and guts and marrow, which worms shall eat inside your grave so narrow.” It’s a classic story. Kids these days just don’t try to fake their own deaths anymore.

Oh. And Morgan. Yes Morgan, I’m talking to you, you with the fingernail sand the teeth. I need to explain something to you. You tip 20 per cent. You can afford it, stop using it as a measure of how much you approve of the restaurant service. A 20 per cent tip is not bonus, it’s a fee. Restaurant owners don’t pay their staffs, instead they make the diners pay their employees through this idiotic notion of capitalist meritocracy. I don’t care how bad the service, tip them. You have money, Morgan. I would also tell you to stop asking to speak to a manager every time your Long Island Ice Tea is a bit like, but I got out your tongue last month, so they wouldn’t understand you anymore anyway. Do you know what a cut human tongue tastes like, Morgan? Yes you do. You just don’t know that you do. Remember Applebee’s last week? You ordered soup. It was a beef base with little onions and little perfectly sautéed flecks of your own tongue that you had used to lash out at a manager the last time you ate there. You could blame them for poorly expediting your orders, but really the onus is on you for going to Applebee’s. Which serves neither of the items its name promises. It’s false advertising. It’s like an egg cream soda, or Taco Bell.

Speaking of eating, the elderly room mates made lunch together, but not for each other. They were all in the kitchen at the same time making separate meals in silence. They sat around the dining room table together and ate. They carved and stabbed and pushed foods quickly into their mouths, but their eyes were empty. One of them began to spit out their food. No one seemed to care or notice. They all began to vomit, but not with muscular heaves of shoulders and necks, the vomit spurted out like water from a hand pump, their torsos and heads perfectly still. After each bodily rejection of food, they would start shoveling it back to their mouths, repeating the same process. Eventually one of them stood up and threw their plate into the kitchen window, glass bursting everywhere. That person leaned into the hole and began punching the jagged shards out with their clenched fists as blood poured out of their forearms and wrists. They screamed mournfully into the suburban street. Neighbors and passers-by passed only briefly, as if they had barely heard the sad howls spreading across the valley. Susan’s lemon tree next door died instantly and all the lemons fell with wet plops to the ground. The fruit pealed open and inside of each was a fleshy crimson pulp, like meat that has been ground for too long. The other two room mates kept eating and vomiting, not even noticing the shattered glass being subsumed by the growing pool of blood on the floor.

You know, I wasn’t always like this, faceless or old. Secretly living anywhere. Once I was born upon warm water. The smell I remember is sharp citrus and the peppery sting of grass. The salt funk of ocean. I was once a child. I grieved once. I smelled blood. Once I was a thief. I lived among thieves, I saw empires rise and fall, centuries cast themselves upon infinity as fruitlessly as waves upon cliffs. Once I was a recluse. I lived amongst bandits and farmers, I spoke a different language then. I’ve spoken many languages.

Once I was under the sea. That was a quiet time. I lived amongst the coral and dead-eyed fish. Once I was a wanderer. I’ve seen the (head) [0:18:14] waters of the Mississippi and I’ve seen the cobbled streets of Paris and I’ve seen the empty arches of Franchia. But I’ve never seen anything like those three room mates. Of all the things I've been – child, thief, recluse, wandered, faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, I’ll tell you this: I’ve never been more scared.

Fear is in the unknowing and the mystery. Fear is seeing everything about an old woman except her face. Fear is the uncertainty of her secretly living in your home. Fear is not the spider you see on the wall. It’s the spider you no longer see on the wall when you look back again.

In the unnerving din of shattered glass and mournful howls of that house, I found the loose thread that unraveled this mystery. The room mate who screamed had no tongue. And one of the others had an ear swollen shut from a previous surgery. And the other had a red mark, like a radish or sarcoma adorned with poetry drawn upon their shoulder blade. I realized I knew these three strange room mates. They are you, Tony, the special tattoo I gave you. And they are you, Addie, with your oral scar tissue from the beetle I jammed in there. And you, Morgan, with your tongue removed and digested. The three of you do not exactly live together in that home, not at the same time. You are living three different lifetimes in that same space. You do not speak or respond, because you are dead. Each of you alone in that house together, or you will be, time is confusing for me. Decades from now after you die, your souls will be trapped in the house, because something in this world is unresolved for you. You know this, paranormal neuroscience is required for all high school freshmen. But what they don’t teach you is how to resolve it. I know how and when each one of you die. I wrote it down on the back pages of your journals. Iv’e done this for everybody, but nobody ever reads it, because while people always think they’ll write every day, after a few pages they fall off the wagon and never see the lsat pages of their journals. Except Jonathan Franzen. He didn’t seem bothered by what he read. But he did cross out all my adverbs and added some Oxford commas. In case you’re wondering how Jonathan Franzen dies, here’s the answer: he doesn’t.

I am the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home. You might find this ambiguous, after all the word “home” is singular. So whose home is it that I secretly live in? Listen, some things in this tangled world are simple. I live in your home, and your home, and your home, I live in all of your homes simultaneously. I am many. [echo] I am many. I am one. [echo] I am one. You all live such different lives, teeming, that’s what you are: teeming. And I am there watching you.

You, Tony, you dream of being a poet. Resolve the unresolved. The worst that can happen is crushing disappointment and public mockery, and eviction when you can’t pay your rent. Many more awful things after that, get to it!

And you, Addie, you fled your previous city to escape a murder charge. Strangely, you didn’t commit the murder you were charged with, but you have committed murder. Weird choice to go on “House Hunters” as a wanted fugitive, but maybe it was a good first step to healing your soul.

And you, Morgan. You have an idea that could save us all, an epic defining idea, one of the greats, but you don’t know which one. You have so many ideas. I can tell you this: most of them are not important. One of them is vitally important. Good luck. Also, tip 20 per cent.

And you, I forgot your name, you tweet too much. We all tweet too much, but that doesn’t let you off the hook. That’s why I ate your phone. You can thank me later. You can all thank me later. Because you all will be seeing me soon. I think that tonight is the night to let slip my secret. You’ll soon see me fumbling wet and gray from out of the bathroom mirror, or folded up strangely loose skin and mashed bones in the bottom drawer of your dresser. Or you will see me scuttle on your walls, the hair hanging down from my faceless face. Or you will look out your kitchen window and there will be someone standing in your driveway, and it will be me, and there will be no one in the driveway and instead, I will be next to you in the kitchen. Faceless and so very very old. Won’t that be nice?

I’m the Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home. And your home. And your home. And every home. And I will be seeing you very, very soon.

[music, applause]

Today’s proverb: Never judge a book by its cover. Judge it by the title page instead.

#welcome to night vale #wtnv transcripts #episode 164 #the faceless old woman #the faceless old woman live #finally #thanks for your patience #there might be more mistakes bc there were many big words

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