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moonhoures · 1 year

Text

piano lessons

pairing: jay (enhypen) + reader (fem.)

genre: non-idol!au, (kind of?) college!au, fluff, meet cute

warnings: none!

word count: ~2.3K

synopsis: working at a music shop has its perks, like meeting cute boys who can play guitars 🤭🎸

a/n: my first fic back!! woohoo!! i hope you guys like this, i only read through it twice, so there might be some proofreading mistakes. please forgive me 😇 enjoy! 🫶🏻

a/n: for reference, this fic is heavily inspired by these tiktoks [ tiktok #1 & tiktok #2 ] and [ this ] is the song jay is playing 👍🏻

posted: july 13, 2023

Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were usually the slowest days at your job. You worked at the local music retail shop, spending most of your shifts just cashing people out, organizing instruments and equipment, or re-alphabetizing the store’s music catalog. It didn’t pay that well, but it was enough to keep you busy and get you through college.

On most days it was fine; the only real downside being dealing with older people who didn’t understand some logistics of the instruments or the younger know-it-alls that tried to mansplain the equipment you sold daily. Another downside was having to listen to people tune the instruments to their liking and/or play them awkwardly in the middle of the store.

You understood why they did it; they just want to get a feel for the instruments they want to buy. But most people either were beginners who played awfully or intermediate players who didn’t play nearly as good as they thought they did. After almost a year of working at your location, you had gotten used to the sound of the store’s center speakers being hooked up to various instruments while people tested out the sound quality or other logistics of their instruments. Today was no different.

You were in the middle of organizing some invoices at the register on a late, gloomy Tuesday afternoon in the middle of September. The faint buzz of the center speakers humming to life on the other side of the store caught your attention, but you went back to focusing on your task at hand. There was only a handful of people in the store at the moment, so it was pretty quiet aside from the very soft jazz music emitting from the speakers in the corners of the store.

After a moment of peace, the center speakers crackled. You prepared to be annoyed for the next five to ten minutes by some young kid about to play some Nirvana riff very amateurishly. However, you were surprised when the opposite happened. A single, short, sweet strum on an electric guitar rang through the shop. It wasn’t obnoxiously loud, just enough so that you could hear it from across the room. You didn’t recognize the melody that soon followed, but it was pleasant to your ears.

It was a very relaxed, R&B sound. The sound was so calming. It fit perfectly with the gray clouds and drizzling rain outside the shop. Like a soundtrack to a movie scene. You decided you had to see who this talented musician was.

You picked up a vinyl that needed to be put back in that area, and decided to use that as your excuse to go be nosey. Throughout your walk there you noticed that the elderly couple you had seen earlier was now gone, leaving very few patrons left. There was one guy who seemed to be in his mid-40’s browsing through the CD collections. And there was a high school-aged girl looking through the magazines by the door. Other than that, it was just you and your mystery guitar player.

The soulful music continued to play, growing louder as you got closer to the source. You turned the corner of the shelf just behind the speakers that the music was coming from. Your eyes travelled up to see a boy about your age. You were getting a somewhat side profile of him, but he was admittedly very handsome.

He had black hair that looked soft and untouched by the rain from outside. Rimless glasses sat on the bridge of his nose. His jawline looked as though it was sculpted by an artist. He wore average-looking clothes—khaki pants, dark blue graphic t-shirt, unbuttoned denim shirt, and converse. One of his ears were covered by the chunky headphones he brought with him, presumably listening to the song he was trying to play. You found it odd that he wasn’t using sheet music, like most people did. Perhaps he played better by ear?

The sound of the bell above the door ringing made you jump, but it was only the high school girl leaving. You clutched the vinyl in your hand, remembering that that’s what you were supposed to be doing: finding it’s home. You turned to the shelf beside you, thumbing through the albums until you found the spot you needed. The albums thumped to one side as you slid the vinyl into place before they were pushed gently back together in harmony.

It seemed the song was coming to an end, so you stood in place as the boy wrapped up the tune he was playing so elegantly. When he finished, he started inspecting the tuning pegs on the guitar in his lap. Your feet were moving before your brain could stop them. The inside of your throat felt like it was closing, but you still somehow managed to speak.

Softly, you praised him, “That was amazing.”

Dread filled your body when he didn’t so much as even look at you. Nothing signaled that he heard you, so you cleared your throat and tried again. Only this time, you took another step closer to him.

“That was amazing,” you repeated a bit louder than before.

This time he heard you, his head whipping around as if you startled him. You quickly apologized, but he shook his head.

“No, you’re fine. I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I just said that was amazing, what you played. You’re really talented.”

“Oh,” maybe it was your imagination, but it looked like the lobe of his ear was turning red. His foot fidgeted on the bar at the bottom of the stool he sat on. The fluorescent lighting in the shop casted a white glare on the edge of his glasses when he looked at you, but you could still see his brown eyes clear as day, “Thanks.”

“Was it yours?”

“Was what mine?”

“The song,” you busied yourself by picking up the sheet music left behind by previous patrons of the day and putting them back in the folder where your boss kept them. He reached up and moved the headphones down from his ears to rest around his neck.

“No,” he shook his head, “It’s a Frank Ocean song. Have you heard of him?”

“I can’t say I have,” you confessed, “But it was a beautiful song. I’ll have to look it up later so I can get the full experience of it.”

“You should. The, uh, album that it’s from is great. It’s called Blonde,” he continued to twist and tune the pegs at the end of the guitar’s neck. His fingers were proficient and gentle; you assumed that was from years of skill crafting.

“How long have you played guitar for?”

“About 5 years?” his face expressed that he was trying to recall the moment he started.

“Wow, I figured you might be a prodigy or something. You sound like a seasoned player.”

Now his ears were definitely red; there was no way it was a trick of your mind. The same rosy color also looked like it was spreading across the apples of his cheeks. His lips twitched from holding back the bashful smile that wanted to appear. He adjusted himself on his seat, getting a better grip on the instrument in his lap, “Thank you, but I’m no prodigy. Do you play anything?”

“I took a few piano lessons when I was little,” you shrugged, fingertips mindlessly and quietly tapping on top of the speaker in front of you. An almost silent hum still thrummed from it, “But I don’t play much anymore.”

“Well, if you’d like some lessons in the near future, I know a guy who’d be willing to teach you for free,” he spoke as he stood from the stool and carefully placed the Paul Reed Smith guitar back on its stand a few feet away.

“For free? Is he doing volunteer work or something?” you teased, eyes accidentally meeting his as he returned to pick up his keys from the stand he left them on. The same stand that held the speaker you were previously tapping on. You wanted to look away, but his eyes almost held you in their gaze.

“No, but he doesn’t mind teaching pretty girls like you.”

Your breath hitched for a second, and heat rushed into your cheeks. Was he seriously hitting on you? More importantly, was it working? You had to avert your eyes.

“Oh,” you mentally kicked yourself when the shy smile took over your lips, “Does he live around here? I might consider, if he’s not too far.”

“He lives in college town actually. Are you familiar with it?” his keys made a jingling noise as he swiftly slipped them into the back pockets of his pants. You watched with a twinkle in your eye as he used the same hand to carelessly card his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, it’s not too far from me actually. Does this guy know Frank Ocean’s music too? I think I’d like to hear some of that on the piano,” you said, walking alongside him as he started to walk towards the front of the store. The rain was still coming down, barely. The droplets were sparse, but the gray clouds remained, just as dark and gloomy as ten minutes ago, “I like the R&B sound of it.”

“I’m sure he’d love to play some R&B music for you on his piano,” he smirked a little, secretly loving this back-and-forth with you. He didn’t want it to end, but he did have plans with his friends soon, “I think he knows one or two Frank Ocean songs.”

“That’s good. Well, this guy sounds decent. Do you have his number? I’ll have to send him a text to set up a piano lesson with him.”

He nodded, so you took the few steps over to the front desk, pulling a notepad and pen out from next to the register. You tore the top sheet off that had scribbles of invoice numbers and customer information. Then you handed the pad and pen to him, folding the torn paper in your hands as you watched him jot down the phone number for you. He handed it back, and you carefully tore that paper out too before slipping it into your pocket where your phone rested.

“Thanks,” you walked him to the door, only now realizing that you were the only two people left in the shop. Were you really that wrapped up in this boy to notice the older guy leaving? Did he really captivate you that much? You supposed he did.

He pushed the door open, stepping out onto the sidewalk, “I guess I’ll see you around then.”

Some little voice in the back of your mind let out a sigh, expressing its disappointment of his departure. Another voice in there exclaimed a reminder to you.

“Wait!” you called out, causing the dark-haired boy to turn back towards you. He was already yards away, but you could still tell the weather was starting to make his glasses fog up, “You never told me this guy’s name.”

He smiled again, “It’s Jay. Sorry.”

You nodded in understanding, and he stopped you before you could go back inside.

“What’s your name? I should probably let him know so he can expect your text,” he reasoned, his hands burying themselves in the pockets of his denim shirt. The heel of his converse scuffed the wet concrete as he shifted his foot nervously.

“_________.”

Now he was the one nodding, “Got it. I’ll tell him to look out for a text from ________, the pretty music shop girl.”

“Thanks a lot,” you waved him off, the smile on your lips refusing to leave even after the door closed behind you. Even after a glance out the door confirmed he was so far down the sidewalk that he was now out of sight. You hummed that melodic tune he played to yourself as you started to think of what tasks still needed to be done. You had the whole shop all to yourself, and there was still a couple hours left until closing.

You decided to hijack the store’s AUX, hooking up your phone. You went to your music player, typing in ‘Blonde’ and picking the first option that came up. You let the album play from the top, immediately nodding your head along to the beat that began to play. He has good music taste, you thought to yourself.

For the remainder of your shift, you enjoyed the music playing. The store had no more customers after he left, which made for a quick and easy closing. The rain was done by the time you were locking up, which you were thankful for. Once you got to your car, you pulled your phone from your pocket along with the written digits pressed against it.

You debated acting on your thoughts so soon, but decided to do so anyway. Your fingertips tapped against your keyboard swiftly, typing the phone number into the messaging app. The cursor blinked as you thought of what to say. It took a minute or two, but you finally sent a message you deemed good enough.

you: hi, is this jay? a friend of mine said you could give me free piano lessons, is that true?

jay: is this _______?

you: it is 😊

jay: well, i have some good news and bad news

you: okay…

jay: i can give you piano lessons, but they won’t be free

you: oh, okay. what’s your price, then?

jay: for first lessons, it’ll cost you one dinner date at any local restaurant of your choosing. is that within your budget?

you: i think i can make that work. is saturday okay with you?

jay: saturday is perfect, actually!

you: cool, i’ll update you when i decide what restaurant we’ll go to 👍🏻

jay: sounds good 😊 have a good night, _______

you: goodnight, jay 🌙

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ thank you for reading! if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a like, reblog, and/or a message in my inbox! i would love to hear your feedback! ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

💌 taglist: @jaylaxies @boba-beom @bruh-changbin @bluesoobinnie

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mrwinterr · 10 months

Text

Violet!

Pairing: Kurt Kunkle x Female Reader

Summary: Basically, this is the Spree movie with you caught in the middle.

Warnings: Creeper vibes. Stalking. Language. Mentions of murder. Firearms. Unhinged behavior.

Title Inspiration: “Violet!” by Waterparks

A/N: I finally watched Spree (2020) then this song came on shuffle and it got me thinking about writing this. Neither of us asked for this, but here we are. I had to get it out of my head.

🚫 Don’t accept drinks from strangers. 🚫Don’t be afraid to say no. ❗ Be safe out there ❗

You fish your cell phone out from your back pocket, feeling it buzz and hearing it ping, alerting you that your Spree ride is approaching. You look over the license plate and squint at the tiny profile pic to get a good look at your driver’s face. Soon enough, a silver Toyota Prius comes into view and what you had to assume was your ride.

“Hi! Kurt, right?” You ask, as the driver rolls down the passenger side window. You bend forward to look inside. It was him, but you always asked your drivers regardless.

“Yep, that’s me! You must be Y/N.” He confirms with a wide friendly grin on his face.

“I am! Thanks for picking me up.” You respond and reach to open the door to the backseat, but stop when he speaks up.

“Oh, I don’t mind you sitting up front with me,” he says, patting the vacant seat next to him.

“Are you sure?” You hesitantly ask.

“Positive!” He ensures, leaning across the console to push open the passenger side door. You shrug, get inside and buckle up for the ride.

You quickly observe he had a very clean car, but what catches your attention the most are the multiple cameras installed all around it. Not wanting to encroach, you conclude that it was probably just for his safety.

“You’re welcome to change the station or play your own music,” he offers as he steers the wheel making a left turn.

“This is fine. You’re the driver, you get to pick the music,” you answer. That was kind of him? You thought to yourself.

“Nonsense! You’re my guest,” he says, waving it off.

“Really. This is ok with me. I like this band,” you insist, not having the energy to go through changing his settings or scrolling through your playlist.

“You do?” He asks, not wholly convinced. It wasn’t a widely known artist afterall, so you understood the disbelief.

“Yeah, been a fan for years,” you reply, and you’re not lying. You genuinely did know the artist currently playing.

“That’s so cool! I didn’t think I’d ever meet another fan,” he jumps at the revelation of something you both have in common. A huge smile on his face, you can’t deny he’s pretty cute, and for a second his little fan girl moment was kind of endearing.

“Well, today’s that day!” You say followed by an awkward chuckle that you intended to come out naturally, but failed…at least you weren’t convinced. Kurt didn’t see anything through it. You turn to face the window and silently mouth “what the fuck?” to yourself. That was not smooth and further solidified why you weren’t in the dating scene.

“Are you thirsty?” He asks out of the blue after a few minutes of silence that followed.

“Excuse me?” You weren’t really paying attention as you tried to forget that awkward moment, and had resorted to staring out the window, planning out the rest of the day in your head.

“Thirsty. I have a couple of water bottles for my passengers.” He says motioning to the cup holder within the side of the door. Sure enough as you looked down to where he pointed at, was a bottle of water.

“Oh, no. No, thank you. That’s very hospitable of you though.” You shake your head in response, politely declining the offer.

You pulled your phone out to see how much further your destination was and you were only halfway to the restaurant that you were meeting your best friend at. Usually, your rideshare drivers were easy to make conversation with or just didn’t speak to you at all, which you almost preferred Kurt do. Cute or not be damned.

“So, what plans do you have tonight?” He spoke again.

“Uh, well so far I just got this lunch and a show later tonight.” You answer, keeping it short.

“Oh, what kind of show?” He continued to press on.

“My friend, Jessie, she’s sort of a comedian.” You reply without thinking about it too much. Friendly conversation, right?

“Jessie. Jessie Adams?” He asks, looking over at you quickly before focusing on the road again.

“Yeah, that’s her,” you confirm, but with a hint of odd curiosity in your voice. He knew of her? Well, of course, he had to. A lot of people knew of Jessie. She’s got a pretty big following online. “Are you a fan?”

“Not really,” he replies, pausing before continuing, “I actually gave her a ride earlier.”

“Really? What a coincidence.”

“Yeah, small world, huh?”

“I guess so,” you agree.

“So what’s your @? We can follow 4 follow,” he asks, going straight to the next topic.

“Oh, you don’t want to follow me,” you say, trying to downplay your online presence.

“Why not? You seem like a cool person. Maybe we could hang someday.” He casually says while shrugging.

“Um, yeah. Sure. Okay,” you give up, feeling strange about it, but tell him your username on one platform anyways. Was it social pressure or that fact that you were bad at lying and not having the heart to say you don’t follow strangers? One more person wouldn’t hurt, right? He’d just get lost in the count or you’d probably never see him again. You were too busy to hang out or date anyways.

You see him pull his phone off the stand he had set on his dashboard, and you can tell he’s typing something in, while also driving! You hoped he wouldn’t crash the car.

“Whoa. You’ve got a lot of followers,” he exclaims, clearly scrolling through your feed, still driving.

“It’s not that much,” you insisted. It wasn’t enough to be “influencer” status.

“Are you kidding? Thousands is a big deal,” he says, maintaining this revelation about you.

“If you think so…I don’t really pay attention to it. It’s just a number. I probably will never meet that many people in my lifetime.” You weren’t sure why people were so obsessed with the amount of likes or follows they had online. None of that really mattered in the real world. The internet is a toxic place.

You looked over at him briefly and noticed a strange expression on his face. He was looking at you as if you had grown another head. He shook his head, not believing you just said something like that.

“Well, I’m @ kurtsworld96 everywhere,” is all he says to your mini monologue.

“Okay,” you say, unlocking your phone to open up the app and hit the ‘follow back’ button next to the notification. “Alright, followed! Oh, this looks like the place! Thank you for the ride!” You perk up seeing the restaurant come into view, quickly unbuckling your seatbelt, gathering your bag, a hand eagerly on the handle, ready to open the door as soon as he stops in a safe distance.

“You’re welcome. I’ll DM you!” He shouts just before the door shuts close behind you. You give a dismissive wave as you dashed inside the restaurant.

You let out a heavy sigh the moment you sat across from your friend. That had to have been the longest ride of your life. Note to self: get your car fixed right away, so you don’t have to face another driver like that anytime soon.

You were so glad to have made it and have a sense of normalcy again. You just wanted to move on and forget about that awkward ride, but your phone’s incessant buzzing wouldn’t give you peace.

“Geez, who is blowing you up?” Your friend asks, looking over at your phone that was turned upside down. You had been trying to ignore it, so you could focus your attention on your friend and the time you were spending with her.

You pick it up and turn it over, groaning at the notifications. “It’s this guy I met,” you say, visibly annoyed, revealing that it was mostly coming all from Kurt.

“What? You didn’t tell me you were talking to someone,” your friend teases.

“I’m not! It’s not like that. I promise!” you’re quick to put that out, “it’s…my Spree driver.” Boy, did that sound weird to say.

“What are you doing giving your number out to your Spree drivers?”

“I don’t! I didn’t give him my phone number. He’s liking all my posts on social.”

“Weird, but that doesn’t explain now how he follows you,” she continued to dig.

“I don’t know. He seemed alright at first. He was kind of cute, but also a little awkward.” You try defending your actions, but in reality it was a lapse in judgment and now he had one access to you.

“There’s always a catch, right?” she says sitting back in her seat, crossing her arms, a bit of disappointment at that thought.

“For sure!” you agreed, dropping the subject of conversation there as the waiter arrived with your meals.

After leaving the topic of Kurt and relationships alone, you had a great time with your friend and agreed to meet up later at the venue for Jessie’s show. Parting ways, you ordered another Spree ride home so you could relax before heading out.

While waiting for your ride, you noticed you had an alarming high number of notifications from one of your social media apps. You braced yourself, opening it and checking the activity, seeing it was all from Kurt. He liked almost every post you made dating years back.

Shit. Who had the time to do that? Your thumb hovered over his username, hesitant to click on his page, but you wanted to get a better sense of him too. When you finally tapped on it you saw a stark contrast of his page compared to your own. He had well over the amount of posts and low followers to following ratio. He considered himself as a “Public Figure” and looked to be very active. Why was he so obsessed with it?

You’re not allowed more time to scroll or click on anything else, when you start feeling the familiar vibrating pattern that your Spree driver was nearby. You click the notification, exiting from the social media app, revealing your new driver.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you say to yourself. Could you be bold enough to cancel at the last minute?

“Hey, y/n! It’s me Kurt! Two for two,” he says overjoyed to see you.

“Uh…yeah, another coincidence,” your response drags out. You’re a little creeped out, but what if it was in fact a coincidence and he just happened to be the nearest driver.

“Or fate,” he said a little too enthusiastically.

“Sure,” you say after buckling up in the seat next to him. “Thanks for picking me up…again.”

“Not a problem! Anything for a friend…and it’s kind of my job.” He was a bit too cheery for your freaked out mood right now. In a sense he was a bit smothering, and you barely knew him or spent a full hour with him to even feel that way.

“Lunch looked good,” he said so casually.

“What?” confused, you're unsure of where he’s going with this.

“Your lunch. You posted a pic of the food on your story,” he replies like it’s nothing. He already looked at your stories?

“Oh…yeah. It was good,” you confirm. He doesn’t even detect the weird or slow tone of your answers. Long gone was that friendly person he met before you entered his vehicle.

As he went on and on about something during the trek back to your place, you deduced that he wasn’t one to understand your lack of interest in whatever he was talking about no matter how many times you said “yeah” or “uh-huh” or “sure” in response. You probably signed away on your death wish and didn’t even know it, that’s how much you weren’t paying attention. You felt your headache coming back and couldn’t wait until you made it home. The ride shouldn't have been as grueling as the first one, but you survived.

You managed to do a couple of household chores around your apartment and rest a bit. Now, an hour before you planned to leave for the venue, you got cold feet. You were scared to order another driver. You suppose you could’ve used a different rideshare service, but you were just freaked out that you’d meet another Kurt or he himself could be anywhere nearby. Today had been too weird and enough for you to want to just sit this night out, but your friend was determined to hold you to your word.

“I swear, it’s like I’m watching You, but it’s about me!” You speak into your phone.

“So, you’re saying Kurt is Joe…” your friend says, amused, but trying to make sense out of your paranoia.

“Yes!” you exclaimed.

“You’re being dramatic,” she scoffs, and you know she’s trying to bring you back down, but you and she both saw the posts that had gone viral recently. You just took it more seriously than she did.

“Whatever, I’ve made my mind up. I’m staying in.” You vow once more.

“You promised Jessie you’d go!” She pushed, hoping the guilt trip tactic would work.

“I know! I just…I just don’t feel safe going out.” You admit, feeling vulnerable, “What if he pops up?” lowering your voice, you can feel the fear creeping in.

“Girl, we’ll be in a crowded room. There’ll be tons of people there. There’s no way he’d risk trying anything.” She believed, not letting a guy stand in the way, except this wasn’t an ordinary guy and you were trying to convince her of just that.

“Are you serious? I don’t think that’s going to stop this psycho!”

“Hey, come on. That’s kind of mean, even for you.”

“You’re the one trying to get me killed?”

“Calm down. Relax, okay? You watch too many movies. It’s probably fake,” she says referring to the viral posts that Kurt had live streamed.

“Are you watching the same thing as I am?” You asked, not believing the words coming out of her mouth.

You didn’t follow Bobby or obviously any of his other passengers, but finding out those cameras in his car were being broadcasted to the entire internet utterly bewildered you. Anyone who actually watched him witnessed those painful rides and a murder. You realized he never stopped streaming either. He was on 24/7. You even caught the stream of him in the shower, but the moment you saw the red on his face and his naked chest, it made you sick and you immediately closed the app.

“Yes, and you’re right he is kind of cute,” is all she had to say back.

“That’s it? That’s not the point,” you sigh, not comprehending the entire situation you were in. Here you had some very strange encounters with a guy you just met who is coincidentally tied to potential homicides. No, you were convinced they were real and they clearly showed it was him.

“Whatever! Look, I’m leaving in five, so I better see you there or else!” Those were her final words as she hung up, not giving you another chance to decline.

“Or else I’m probably dead,” you say into the receiver, knowing she wasn’t on the other end anymore, and setting your phone down on the counter.

You wanted to go and support Jessie, but at the same time you were too convinced that it wasn’t safe right now. You weren’t allowed much more time to think about what you were going to do when there was a knock at your door.

You weren’t expecting anyone, so you quietly walked over to your door and cautiously looked through the peephole only to come eye-to-eye with a brown-eyed person. It kept its focus fixed on the hole as if they were trying hard to look through the other end.

It was beyond the point of creepy, so you backed away and ignored the person hoping they’d just leave on their own, but once the knocking kicked back in you knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“Hey, y/n! It’s me Kurt!”

What the fuck? How’d he get past the gate and on your floor? There’s a designated code for residents and their approved guests only.

“I know you’re in there!” He said loudly, voice booming in the hallway. However, you remained silent. “I just heard you on the phone!” Yeah, okay that’s not weird…but how much did he hear? “Come on. Open the door, please! What you’re doing isn’t fair!”

Realizing he wasn't going to go away on his own, now or tomorrow, who knows how long this could go on, you decided to finally confront him.

“Look, Kurt," you start off strong with a domineering tone, swinging your door open, but leaving it more than halfway closed, careful in case he decides to try something, "I don’t know how you got here or who let you up, but what do you want from me? I gave you a 5 star rating on Spree, I followed you back! What else?” but you ended up exasperated and almost desperate as you pleaded for answers and for him to back off.

“You never DM’d me back,” he answers simply, but quite frankly rather pathetically. You stared at him with a blank expression as you tried to process his response. You didn’t even have time to check your DMs, let alone reply to anyone because you were too busy worrying about your safety and avoiding him. Then your eyes traveled down his chest, noticing a little red light, and you realized he was recording everything.

“Are you seriously live right now?!” You asked incredulously, pointing to the camera strapped around his chest. "Turn that shit off!" You didn't want this to be broadcasted, even if no one was watching his stream.

“You’ve been sending me mixed signals all day,” He accuses, ignoring your question and demand entirely.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Frustration was evident in your voice, shaking your head at how ridiculous this whole exchange was.

“You liked my posts. You’ve led me to your place multiple times…” He starts listing things off defensively as if he had a legit reason to be upset at you.

“You’re my Spree driver! You’re supposed to pick me up!” You rebut, giving emphasis on his role as a Spree employee. You were pretty sure he was violating a work policy on him keeping your home address. “Also, I liked your posts because you liked mine, it’s just unspoken social media courtesy. I'm sorry if you took it a different way!”

“Where’d you learn that? That's not a real thing! It definitely isn't anywhere in The Lessons.” You swore you've never met anyone so delusional up until him.

“Huh? What? I don’t need to enroll in any lessons in social media etiquette.” Seriously, what the hell was this guy on? This whole argument was getting pointless and stupid.

“You obviously have a lot to learn,” he chastised.

“Kurt, please," you restart, lowering your voice, hoping to try and reason with him, "you seem like a nice guy, really, but I need you to leave me alone. If not, I’m going to call the cops.”

“Why would you do that?” he asks with a small sense of hurt in his demeanor from the light threat.

“Because you’re freaking me out!” You suddenly explode again. Surprising yourself with that outburst, you bring your hand up to your forehead, not only to soothe the third headache brewing in your skull, but also at yourself. Be it as it may, that might've been a bit too harsh, but he wasn't getting it.

When you finally work up the strength to face him again, you see he's looking down at his phone. You notice the confused and perplexed look on his face. Something's wrong, and you can feel it in the air.

“Did you block me?” He asks, looking up at you in disbelief with his big brown eyes. If the circumstances were different and he wasn't insane, it would've worked in his favor. Except, you forgot you did block him earlier after his incessant attempts to talk to you. Then the look in his eyes turned from a kicked puppy dog into a crazed one.

You didn’t even get to answer as your eyes widened, because the next thing you knew, you saw his hand reach behind him. As your instincts kicked in, you quickly shut the door in his face before shots were being fired at your front door.

You immediately jumped back, as the panic hit the ceiling, but you were flat down on the carpet, covering your head, praying this would end soon.

“This could’ve gone so much differently, Y/N!” Kurt yells over the sound of more gunshots, “We could’ve helped each other out…increase our following,” your ears were ringing, the more shots he fired, “...too bad, you’re actually cute and maybe we could’ve been a power couple!” You covered your ears, not wanting to hear anymore of his bullshit.

In this moment, you weren’t just scared for yourself, but also for your neighbors. And unfortunately, judging by the piercing screams outside, you knew some had now fallen victim to Kurt, someone you unintentionally lured back here, and that thought alone was breaking you as you felt the burn from the moisture and salty water that built in your eyes and streaked down your face.

You couldn’t just lie there and do nothing. Noting that the trajectory of the bullets weren’t aimed at your door anymore, you quickly got up from the floor and ran to retrieve your phone, instantly calling your friend for help.

When she finally picked up, the gunshots stopped, but your ears were still struggling to maintain its hearing balance.

“Girl, where the hell are you? Jessie is going on soon.”

“He’s here!” You screamed into the phone.

“What?”

“Kurt! He’s at my front door and he has a gun!”

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Yes. Now get some help!”

“Okay! Okay! Stay where you are. I’ll be there!”

“No!” You tried to reason with her on staying where she was at in fear of her own safety should Kurt still be around, but she hung up before you could get another word in. You weren’t thinking clearly when deciding to call her first. You were in a panic. What you should’ve done was call the cops first instead of dragging her into this.

You didn’t leave your apartment or dared to look outside even though you figured he was gone. You were terrified. You could hear commotion outside and soon distant sirens, relieved that help was finally on the way.

“Y/N, it’s me!” Your friend rushes over banging on your door, which now had multiple slits from the bullets attempting to penetrate it.

You scrambled and bolted towards the door to your friend. You hastily grabbed and pulled her into your apartment.

“Whoa! Relax. You’re clear! He’s not here anymore!” She says holding you still so you’d calm down.

“I was going to tell you not to come here, but I panicked-” you babbled, trying to apologize for endangering her life, but she interrupted you by pulling you in for a hug, holding you close, providing comfort as you broke down and wrapped your arms tightly around her. You were clearly in a frenzy and witnessed something horrific.

When she pulled away, you saw the somber look on her face and you knew she felt bad for not listening to you earlier.

“Come on, let’s go file a complaint,” she said, grabbing your hand, “I should’ve taken you seriously the first time. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you for coming though. I’m sorry you had to miss Jessie’s set.”

“Don’t worry about that. Jessie of all people will understand. Your safety is more important,” and the genuinity in her tone helped to warm you up. You were going to be safe.

After some routine check-ups performed by the medical team, you were led to a nearby officer on-site and began retelling the entire day’s events from the moment you got inside Kurt’s car up until the shots fired at your door. You learned that the police were already in the process of tracking Kurt down, hoping this would provide some ease of mind before releasing you.

Lucky for your friend, her car was functioning perfectly, she helped you gather some of your belongings so you could spend the night with her, knowing you wouldn’t and shouldn’t be alone after everything that transpired.

As soon as you were about to join her on the couch in her living room, after taking a much needed shower, she blurted out, “holy shit!”

“What now?” You said plopping down on the empty spot next to her, covering your eyes with your forearm in exhaustion. Your friend was at a loss of words, you had to peek from under your limb to see if her reaction changed and why she wasn’t responding.

All she could do was turn her phone to your line of vision and you too couldn’t believe it. What you were looking at also left you speechless. You sat up instantly and grabbed her phone to examine the image carefully.

Jessie had posted a selfie smiling next to a deceased Kurt.

A/N: I wrote this so quickly that I didn't proofread as much as I normally would, so sorry for any typos or weird inaccuracies. I hope you enjoyed this!

Please leave a like, reblog or comment 🥺

#mrwinterr writes #kurt kunkle #kurt kunkle x reader #kurt kunkle x y/n #kurt kunkle imagine #kurt kunkle fanfic #spree #spree movie #joe keery

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iuteamstarcandy · 11 months

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[INTERVIEW] Elle Girl (November 2010)

IU, as lovely as her age

Has the time come for a change of the nation’s little sister?

Without pretending to look like an adult, or being snobby and only pretending to look cute on stage, IU is as lovely as her age.

You came for the morning photoshoot in your school uniform.

IU: It’s been awhile since I went to school, so I went to take attendance at least and met my teacher before I came.

How’s school life for you?

IU: It’s not just difficult to keep up with the pace in school, it’s practically impossible. I almost didn’t attend at all for the 1st semester and it’s about the same now too.

Back in elementary school, you came in 1st place and even became the school president, but it seems your grades have dropped a lot.

IU: I really studied hard until my 2nd year in middle school, but when I debuted in my 3rd year, my grades plummeted. While participating in my activities as an artist, I couldn’t pay attention to my studies.

You must be feeling terrible.

IU: Not at all. I’m satisfied that I managed to find my path early on. It’s not possible to do two things at once. I have to delve deep into either my studies or singing, but music is my priority right now. My friends and I are just taking our own separate paths.

Do your parents share the same sentiments?

IU: I think my mum asked me to study because she doesn’t know my talent and feels that the only thing I can do right now is to study. Now I think they feel that singing is better than studying for me. Or they’ll just have to give in to my stubbornness. Haha.

Are you close to your friends in school?

IU: My friends are not that comfortable around me.

You’re really close to F(x)’s Luna.

IU: She’s my first friend in the entertainment industry. They asked me in an interview which girl group member I wanted to get closer to, so I picked Luna. I guess that interviewer told Luna about it. At the Music Bank waiting room, Luna approached me first to make conversation. We got closer quickly as we're the same age.

There’s a photo of both of you going to Lotte World recently too.

IU: We didn’t think we would be recognised, but people took our photos and it came out in the news too, which took us by surprise. We went secretly without our managers knowing, so we got into trouble for that.

You must feel lonely being alone as your peers mostly promote in groups.

IU: I guess so. When I debuted initially, there was no one to talk to in the waiting room, so I was really bored. It’s fine now. I have Luna and because of my radio activities, I got to know many seniors. In particular, Lee Sooyoung and Park Kyungrim sunbaenim take good care of me.

Have you had thoughts that girl groups are the trend now, which is a loss for you?

IU: I think we each have our own turf. The music they do is different from the music I do, after all.

Your popularity has been rising recently. You came in 1st place on music programs with ‘Nagging’ too.

IU: I didn’t achieve it by myself and Seulong oppa has been a great help. Seulong oppa is popular to begin with. I’m in a daze after coming in 1st place without going through much difficulty during promotions. I didn’t even join the after party on that day and went straight home to sleep.

You’ve sung quite a number of duets, with Im Seulong, Sung Shi Kyung, Na Yoon Kwon and Yoo Seung Ho as well.

IU: I have 4 single albums just from the duets, so it does seem like a lot. It seems that I have a feminine voice, so it matches well with the male singers when we sing duets. I’ve received many requests and my agency intends to limit them too now. We can’t have that becoming my image.

Who did you enjoy singing a duet with the most?

IU: Each of them have their own special characteristics. I got closer to Yoon Kwon oppa through the radio show, so we had good camaraderie, Shi Kyung oppa is a good singer to begin with, so I just went with the flow. Seung Ho oppa isn’t a singer, so I led him along. With Seulong oppa, I enjoyed working together with him.

The oppas find you adorable right?

IU: Perhaps because I worked with Shi Kyung oppa recently, he contacts me frequently. He talks to me comfortably. Haha. We’ve decided to go and eat raw seafood together with Yoon Kwon oppa as well.

When will you release your own solo album?

IU: I’m going to release a mini album soon. I’ve been receiving songs recently.

Will it be a refreshing and lively concept?

IU: I’ve received a lot of love with that sort of image, so I guess it will be that way.

You said that initially the cute concept didn’t suit you?

IU: I had a tough time during ‘Boo’ and ‘Marshmallow’. Usually, I’m rather cold, to the extent that people around me feel disappointed, so of course it was tough for me to pretend to look cute on stage. Would you believe it if I told you that growing up, I’ve never been told that I’m cute? I did receive acting lessons and got better at it though. I’m fine with cute concepts too now.

I heard that you dream of becoming a singer-songwriter like Corinne Bailey Rae.

IU: I enjoy listening to Corinne Bailey Rae or John Mayer’s songs. I want to become a singer-songwriter like them. I’ve started writing songs recently, but I’m embarrassed to show them to everyone, so I’ve only let a composer oppa I know listen to two of them.

What did he say about them?

IU: He gave me courage, of course. While saying, ‘I see buds sprouting’ (t/n: meaning that he sees the start of something to come).

Try throwing a tantrum and telling your agency what kind of music you want to do.

IU: I’ve known them since I was young (t/n: during her trainee days), so they know well what I like. A song composed by me could be on my next album. I think if I work at it slowly like this, I can make it happen.

You dislike being treated like a young child right?

IU: I don’t dislike it. It’s true that I’m young.

You’re 19, so you might think you’re all grown up now.

IU: I don’t think so. My body, face and voice are all still young. I’m glad the general public seems to want to listen to the music and vocal style of my generation.

What did you do yesterday?

IU: I had a long-awaited break. I was bumming around at home, then ate cup noodles with manager oppa, my mum and my grandmother. When I’m busy, I’m like, ‘Give me some time. I want to meet friends and do all sorts of things’, but when I actually get to rest, I’m not sure what I should do.

I heard you like reading so much that it’s as if you’re in a book club.

IU: Reading is my hobby. I’ve been reading an essay compilation about New York recently.

I heard you write regularly in your diary too.

IU: I’ve been too tired recently to write long entries, but I don’t miss a single day. I would write something like, ‘Ah, I’m so tired’ at least, before I go to bed.

Isn’t it tiring filming ‘Heroes’?

IU: Now that I’ve gotten closer to the members, it’s fine. I’m just so jealous that everyone is so pretty. Jiyeon, who is my age, Kahi unnie and Sunyoung unnie all have such small faces and slim figures.

IU is pretty too. Your manager says you just need to grow taller.

IU: While losing weight, I’ve been hearing people say that too. I didn’t go on a diet. What I hate the most is skipping a meal. I get annoyed when they don’t give me food when I’m working.

You’ll have some fun at the end of the year, right?

IU: I don’t have schedules yet, but I think I’ll be appearing as a guest for a concert. I have ambitions for a concert, so I purposely go to my seniors’ concerts often. I’m going to learn a lot and use that at my own concert.

What kind of concert do you dream of having?

IU: How about a concert with only acoustic (t/n: guitar), while sitting down from start to end? I’ll gather people with the same preferences as me and have a concert in a calm and comfortable atmosphere.

What kind of adult do you want to become?

IU: I do imagine what my 30s will be like. When I’m in my 30s, I’ll be able to do as I wish without caring about being judged by others, right? Just like Harin sunbaenim, I’ll be able to sing the songs I like, do concerts, go traveling, volunteer overseas, I hope to be able to live a carefree life like that.

Translated by IUteamstarcandy

Source: [1]

#IU #elle girl #2010 #interview #magazine

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shrimplymoray · 7 months

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I was told I could request more so….

Can I have a funny Ruggie x Sapphix story, about Ruggie (or Sapphix, either one is fine lol) getting jealous over her hanging out with someone?

Like i dunno what else to ask except for maybe more sea kelp content 😭

STARES INTESIVELY AT YOU If u request Sea Kelp i will cry, ily beeeeee/p Also, hope u don't mind me taking inspo from that one drawing u did full of Sapphix and Ruggie stuff!

Ruggie Bucchi x Sapphix Laurentius - Jealousy

Sapphix was excited to come see this years VDC. She had come to the last years one, but due to how... torublesome, it was, she was afraid to attend to one of the musical performances again. However, even though left and right she had to give her autographs, she was happy to see so many interesting researches and artistic renditions of the world. And she had the company of her favorite Hyena, to make it even more fun. "Shihihi did'ya see the price those dumbasses are paying for those snacks? I could make them for half the price and it would be thrice as better." "Oh I bet it! I still remember when you made me those donuts, what did you even put on it to make them so tasty?" "Chef's secret. Buuuut every secret can be paid to be spread..." "Oh shush it!" As the duo (couple? who knew at this point!) made their way around the stands, they found the... Mountain Lovers club? What even is this? "Oh no..." Ruggie said before the tall teal haired boy gave his soft and lowkey condenscending smile at Sapphix and his Hyena almost-boyfriend.

"Hello there Sapphix-san, Ruggie-san. Would you care to hear about my research?" "Hell no, we were just going to-" "I want to! These mushrooms look so adorable, is it about them?" "Wha- Hey! He is gonna try shoving them on ya or something, i've seen Jade do that before." Jade put his hand to his chest, and looked almost hurt, though his tone didn't seem to share that same sentiment. "Your words wound me profusely, Ruggie-san. I was merely trying to explain the intricacies of this mushroom species I've so carefully and effortly cultivated myself." "Aww look Ruggie, it looks like it has a little veil on it! Let's hear it, pleeease? I'll pay you some food in return."

Ruggie mumbled and grumbled about not wanting to, but accepted nonetheless, he was actually hungry and wanted something fancy for once. "Thank you for your attention. My name is Jade Leech,, Junior from class 3-E, and I am the founder of the Mountain Lovers club. My research is solely based on the phallus Indusiatus, or Veiled Lady mushroom. You see these species [...]" Sapphix kept intringuinly looking at the examples Jade cultivated, and inquiring him about the little mushrooms, which only helped to sour Ruggie's mood even more. He wasn't really the jealous type, usually. He was pretty confident that he could do whatever he wanted if he wasn't caught, but with Sapphix it was different. He didn't want to steal from her, or do something that would hurt her. He actually, genuinely, liked to be around her and to hear her laugh and see how she would smile so cutely at him. Seeing all this attention, he is used to only seeing being given to him, given to someone else... It actually hurt.

Ruggie didn't even noticed that his ears and tail were droopy, and that he had instinctively gotten closer to Sapphix. It was like an instinct, protect the mate or whatever. One who noticed, however, is Jade, he looked at Ruggie and smiled "Would you have any questions about the mushrooms, Ruggie-san?" "No, Sapphiiiiiix can we go now, i'm starving in here hearing him ramble" His glare was clear as day, however Jade didn't retort at all. "I do believe I've finished my presentation. Hope you have a great date." "Oh, btu we aren't-" "Yeah, thanks, bye forever or whatever" ruggie pushed sapphix away into a fancy food stall, still with a pout on his lips. The girl was not dumb, and she had noticed his jealousy, but all she did now was get near him and hug him, making him all flustered. "Hey Hey! What's that for?!" "Consider this my revenge from you playing spelldrive with Vil's pupil instead of Going out shopping with me" "Wha-DO YOU MEAN EPEL? YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE?!!"

Ah yes my fave romance troupe: payback jealousy to the hyena boy. God I love ur ocs so much bee, hope u enjoy this!!

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #thanks for the request!#twst fanfic #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi #ruggie bucchi x oc #ruggie bucchi x sapphix laurentius #tena writing #beelloonn #dear moots <3

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edengreeen · 1 year

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231003 loossemble fansign in sf 💌📡

cross posting to tumblr because... i can... i had so much fun and the girls were so sweet and i wanted to talk about it again T__T all the details are below!!!

yeojin 🐻🧡 ⭐️ i asked her how she was, and that she looked really cute today! she said thank you :3 ⭐️ i then asked her that i saw on her ig she was walking around SF yesterday, and wanted to know what her favorite thing she saw was ⭐️ she said the sea lions (at pier 39!) she said that she wanted to lay with them ⭐️ i laughed and said the weather has been really good in SF, and that loossemble brought the good weather here ⭐️ she said yes but it was still a bit chilly for her

vivi 🦌💕 ⭐️ b4 the fansign started while i was in line she looked away from the table since no one was at her spot yet and no one was paying attention rly but me so we locked eyes and waved hello to each other. i teared up a little i felt so much love in my heart in that moment ⭐️ i told her i think she is the prettiest girl in the world and that i love her so much. she smiled and said that she loves me too (AHHHHH) ⭐️ i also asked her what One Piece character she thinks she is most similar to ⭐️ she said chopper! i said omg like your hat! in the album!

hyunjin 🐱💛 ⭐️ idk why but i freaked out in front of her + completely forgot what i was going to say for a second i was like ahhhh hiii how are youuuu ⭐️ she said she is good! ⭐️ i then asked if there was a different kind of concept she wants to try for loossemble in a future cb ⭐️ she said angel / devil! ⭐️ i then asked if she wanted to play rock paper scissors ⭐️ she won! i played paper she played scissors so she got excited! ⭐️ i told her that she’s the best at this!!! (i was hoping she would win so i could say this hehe)

hyeju 🐺🖤 ⭐️ i told her that i think she’s the most beautiful girl ever and that i love her a lot, and i’m glad to see her on stage again ⭐️ she smiled and said thank you ⭐️ i then asked her if there was any song that she wanted to cover in the future, vocal or dance ⭐️ …. i couldn’t quite hear so i kind of missed it :( it was a korean artist from what i remember. i’m trying my best to figure it out rn ⭐️ she also noticed that i had a chaetty keychain on my bag (gowon 10cm plush) so she asked if i liked gowon (see pic) ⭐️ i laughed a little, said yes! but i love all of loossemble too haha ⭐️ and she smirked and looked to gowon who was to the left of her

it was clipped to my bag so it was like a keychain!!~

gowon 🦋💙 ⭐️if u kno me. you know i’ll act like a fool in front of gowon she is so cutie pie irl… ⭐️ but i told her that she is my bias and that i have been here for a long time and that i love her!!! she said thank you so much ~ ⭐️ i then asked her if she could draw me a tattoo! she looked kind of surprised LOL i said anything is fine any! ⭐️ she then asked me what i liked, and i told her stars moons cats bunnies ⭐️ she drew something for a second and then told me… star cat!!!! it smudged a little 😭

^^ STAR KITTY!!!!!!!! (im so so so sad its smudged)

⭐️ i said this is super cute! thank you so much 🥹❤️ i want to try and get it soon! i’m so sad it smudged but u can still see what she was trying to do there

and that was it!!!! it moved really quickly but i had so much fun, and i was so happy to see all the girls and meet them one on one. they are so kind and i am sooooo grateful for all the opportunities i’ve had to speak with them this comeback. and thank you to saranghello in san francisco for hosting! im so happy to have seen loona in my area. my home is ur home!!! ahhhh theyre my girls forever!!!! i will always be supporting loossemble, and in turn all of loona 🥹❤️

#loossemble #gowon #hyeju #hyunjin #yeojin #vivi #loona #loossemble fansign #loossemble sf fansign #best day of my life #lomls <3 #fansign event #🐇#pinned #im more active on my twt 19thofnov

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rainbowgothdisaster · 1 year

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im rambling about webcomics i read below the cut to get it out bcuz i never talk about them but i do have feelings i wanna get out

these are just the ones i am currently reading, anything currently on hiatus or that i stopped reading during the many period of my phones being broke is not included. and we are going by the normal and correct 5 = mid bcuz that is how math works. also dont take this too seriously.

i want to be a cute anime girl- 8/10, serialized, trans coming of age story including discovery coming out and transitioning

i was concerned with the language at first but there was no need, its been genuinely delightful. her sisters and parents are lovely, she has two friends from before and a new friend/love interest and they're good. i prefer focus on the main character but the current mall trip has been fun. updates are small and for a long time were just four panels before the artist started experimenting

down to earth- 7/10, serialized, slow burn romance

the only slow burn romance where the romance is the most important aspect to me that i read, i dont usually read slow burn so im not burnt out on it. the creator is a big dickkori shipper which is very obvious in how zaida and kade interact. i want more suzy, i love her. updates are pretty big but every single one ends on a cliffhanger which makes them feel short.

lesbiampires- 8/10, episodic, lesbian vampires. obviously.

ruthless vampires so when hunting there's lots of blood which i appreciate <3, the different species of vampires are neat but i dont really pay much attention to the specifics? daph cant go into light but can turn into a giant bat monster, nika can go into light but is limited to a normal bat, the side characters have their things going on. wish yoon was more prevalent but i think im just so focused on daph and nika, and then nisha and anya have their thing i just dont end up noticing her much? updates are normal length

lore olympus- 6/10, serialized, slow burn romance and trauma recovery story

i........ have criticsms....... but the way this series deals with persephones trauma is really important to me. i dont find demeter a compelling character at all and wish wed drop the helicopter mother stuff. i think obsessing over the differences between the story and the mythos is pointless. i like when apollo gets shut down but i think we should drop him and focus on persephones recovery. idk. it makes me happy but if it suddenly stopped i dont think much would be lost. oh yeah the romance is fine, its very formulaic which is fine when you have so many other aspects to a story. updates are fairly long.

emmy the robot- 6/10, serialized, i dont fucking know how to classify this one. political?

i def preferred the before stuff but im enjoying emmy seeing what the poverty stricken areas are like and learning how privileged the delairs are. i wish the updates were longer bcuz i feel like when your updates are short its hard to have a point? i know there's a point about the difference between Madeline and the new girl and how they're growing up. but i just cant get super into it before the episode ends.

my dragon girlfriend- 5/10, mostly episodic, sapphic romances

it used to be so much better. i loved when it focused on chisty (human) and dani's (dragon) relationship. i loved it when it focused on every webtoons staple quirky girl and shy girl side character romance slow burn, especially bcuz its catgirl x vampire, that's literally made in a lab for me. callie and olive are great. love them. casey is fun. i like her being flustered around louis and discovering shes not straight (seems late considering her roommate but good for her). but the updates being 4 panels is really holding it back. like completely. character who didnt grow up in society being socially inept is fun comedy. but only for a little while. nonhuman characters being territorial is fun comedy. but only for a little while. i am so tired of it. its been going on for so many months bcuz the updates are four panels so it takes forever to get somewhere. i mean the recent thing with louis saying her fav tea is venison wouldve been funny 3 months ago but it is so bland and boring now. dani being jealous and callous is so bland and boring now. weve been on the same like 2-3 days since august. PLEASE move on.

death becomes you- 7/10, serialized, adventure fantasy with some romance slipped in their

the artist draws porn of the two main characters which is what drew me to this comic. im just not a big fan of adventure fantasy but the characters are so charming (and hot) that its fine. im really wanting the brother in law to show back up boy is fiiiine.

batman: wayne family adventures- 8/10, episodic, you know this one. just funny comedy.

this is what got me into batfam. obviously. some episodes are just not interesting to me but its saur good. i do dislike one of the artists bcuz the difference between some episodes is jarring for me (like how stiff characters can be, how...... trim? bruces face can look?), but the arts still good just not for me. i know its batfam focused but my fav episodes are when other characters show up. obviously. im a birdflash and core four shipper why WOULDNT i like their episodes?

a city called nowhere- 6/10, generally episodic but rn were on a specific storyline, its a simple horror comic.

a city with creepy stuff where the best way to stay safe is look the other way and prepare properly. nothing really stands out, it truly is a simple horror comic. a general criticsm of merryweather comics is that everyone is a big tittied anime girl, but i read for merry's writing not the artists he employs. i mean as the leader of the company he should be getting some more diversity in there (no it doesnt matter if the artists are women), but seeing as theyre silly comics im not suuuper concerned. i havent kept up with any longer series so idk if they do better in this regard.

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astrojoy · 3 years

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What Vibes Do You Give Off To Your Angel/Spirit Guides

PAC

Order of the piles

Pile 1 - Pile 2

Pile 3 - Pile 4

Pile 5 - Pile 6

•°•°• DISCLAIMER •°•°•

I do NOT own the pictures above, these were made by @tnk_gr and I do NOT take credit for them. I am simply using them for a picture to represent each card pile in an aesthetic way ^

Also if it doesn't resonate then pick another pile, maybe your intuition missed it. Sometimes none of them will resonate as well, this is a broad spectrum, and everyone has unique energies! Also some people may just not resonate with my energy, it happens and other tarot readers may have the same instances, energy is drawn to different things haha!!

This is for entertainment and I hope everyone enjoys, don't take it too seriously or if something hits you wrong them don't take it personally and remember this is for fun. Your guides love you and only want the best for you, that is why they are referred to as "guides" of course! ^-^

Pile 1

Protective - you carry a lot of burdens, sometimes other people's - "Resilient" - closed off- determined - stubborn - creative - indecisive - "go with the flow" - you may pray often, they hear you - pretty hair - really beautiful physically - if you wear makeup they are complimenting you 😳 - again, creative, we got some artists or DIY peeps here - wise - some of you could be studying or in school, they are saying you are quite smart!

Extra - 444, 222, Libra, bolt, clean, bear, pick up, clay, telephone, breaking news, Taurus, tell her, sophisticated

Pile 2

Agile - patient - graceful - the one who glows while all else has darkened - "growth" - you've been through a lot, you've learned many lessons, "we're proud of you" - observant - peacemaker - aura is beautiful - VERY wise - OML YOU LEGIT JUST GOT THE GROWTH AND WISDOM CARD WTF? (I was only looking at a card with a crane and plant before but this legit just confirmed it) - I SAID PEACEMAKERS BEFORE AND JUST GOT THE BALANCE CARD I'M DONE, oml I love my guides so much 😭 - intelligent - great healer - "one with nature" - adventurous - some of you are multitaskers, they notice this and are like "woah" - strong physically or mentally - "listen to the signs we give you" sometimes you pray and search for an answer but don't feel like you got one, they want you to pay closer attention - risk-taker - bong

Extra - 444, green ball, nature, forest, earth energy here, Libra, some of you could want to travel someday, tree on a hill, Virgo, I got the image of a girl running towards a tree feeling free, teacup, rain, garden, party, dog (ohh maybe a select few of you are party animals or wild when you are alone haha! Cute!), someone here could smoke weed, Sagittarius

Pile 3

Creative - sweet - caring - sensitive - artsy people - some of you enjoy painting - Emotional - "eat and stay hydrated!" - in your head a lot - the enjoyment of observing things, they notice this - "beautiful soul" - loving - curious - child-like - witty - studious - deep - aesthetically pleasing - hopeful - "cutie pie" - "we love you" - they notice your enjoyment of food - dependant at times

Extra - ok so I specifically got 2 guides. Literally 2. They are a couple, such mother and father figure energy oml, idk if your parents passed away but if they did then this is them, if they didn't then this is past life parents/guardians of some kind. HAHAHA oml this tickled me, they literally baby you from the spiritual realm "is she ok?" "Yes honey she's fine, wait did she eat?-" oml so so sweet. It's like a grandmother trying to feed you cookies 🥺 222, 666, birds, they sometimes check in on your when you least expect it, if you are trying to go to college then they are helping you, "you are protected dear", "open up some, it's ok!", they actually may legit come in, in spirit form to your house just to see if your ok!, Bank, Daniel?, transfer, "careful!", gemini, 5th house placements, capricorn, aquarius, Partner, ohh so that's a good point-this could be a past life partner!

Pile 4

Passionate - independent - doesn't give up easily - fierce - romantic - "feline" - cat vibes - "don't F with me and I won't F with you" - hides their emotions at times - hides sadness and puts on a mask - "these stripes made you who you are!" - hardworking - "leave what doesn't serve you" aka toxic stuff - grateful (or be more grateful) - powerful - heartfelt - enjoys pleasure - "get rid of toxic things/habits/people", hot 🥵 - such a powerful presence, some people might stare at you, "love your style" (fashion)

Extra - scorpio dominant/rising, candles, roses, sparklers, aries, 777, leo, paint, entrepreneur, fire energy, the soul glows at times or sparks, scoffing like a baddie and leaving the scene quietly, 8th/1st house placements, mars/pluto placements, 222, black and gold, red, tranformative energy, you guys were once a half but now are whole (they are proud of you), makeup, pet cat, for females (and males if you have long hair) some of you keep your hair pulled up often while others might let their hair loose and flow, capricorn

Pile 5

Observant - thirst for knowledge/experiences - looking into the future a lot - hopeful - "never give up" attitude on your journey - they are saying they notice that maybe you feel trapped in some way? - diplomatic - hero/knight in shining armor archetype towards others - psychic/spiritual block somewhere - resilient - carrying a lot of weight on your back/burdens - "trust the process" - tired - emotional at times - a feeling of disconnectedness - you may be more closed off from your guides at times than that of others - curious at heart - mischievous when being playful - many different interests - "good manifester" - sometimes you may not see opportunities they give you - they see you as someone who enjoys baths or quiet relaxing moments too - clean

Extra - leaving something behind, some of you are tall, some of you are searching for your "other half" rn, moon dominant or sign could be important, "why do we act the way we do? Why are my emotions like this?" Can be familiar, 23 and 32, learning more about yourself right now, some of you might have hidden enemies, virgo, 333, "parking", pass, "you can transform things", shapeshifting with new environments, pocketwatch?, "it's only a matter of time"

Pile 6

Consistent - "never give up" - "hard work brings achievements and success" - patient - they see how some of you are active - a select few of you are materialistic - quiet - self-reflective - "beautiful body" - calm - the monk on the mountain - you think a lot on the past sometimes - meditation - "slow and steady" - loves nature - a person who enjoys travel - deep emotions but doesn't see a reason to show them at times - "on a path of enlightenment" - philosophical - seclucive - gentle - not really argumentative

Extra - I got the image of a lamb and it reminded me of Jesus tbh. They may see you as very important in some way, you have big mountains to climb. I also get image of a mountain goat, bambi, dance, gym, swim, 2 people holding hands, monks, fire twirler, childhood friends, your spirit guide(s) are holding your hand often throughout life, they could be past life siblings or friends, some of you could legit be spiritual monks or have thought about it, some of you live far away from somewhere that you want to go, travellers of the mind, earth, and soul, some of you live in apartment buildings with balconies, 42, capricorn, Sagittarius, 9th/12th house placements, some of you legit live on mountains or something like there is so much symbolization here of it - masculine energy but the soft kind

#astrology #zodiac #tarotblr #pac reading #free readings #tarotcommunity #free tarot #tarot cards #tarot community #tarot reader #tarotreading #tarot pick a card #tarot pac #tarot reading #spirit guidance #spirit message #spirit guides #pick a card #pick a card tarot

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personasintro · 3 years

Text

friendly dates | knj drabble

⇢ 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; friendly dates sound nice... but without the friend part it'd sound even better, too bad you're too scared to face your feelings

⇢ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff, idiots to lovers au

⇢ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: explicit language

⇢ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3.7+

𝒂/𝒏: commissioned anonymously!

𝒎.𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | ☕️ | © 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 (𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅)

“So where are you going for tonight's date?”

You're in the middle of trying one of the long dresses you own when your best friend speaks up from behind you, sprawled on your bed while looking at you in the reflection of your big mirror.

You give her a look, cocking your head to the side as you look at yourself again. The dress is pretty, you actually haven't worn it out yet. You've never had the opportunity since you ordered them only a week ago.

“It's not a date,” you inform her, glancing at your friend who has a subtle grin on her face. You're not surprised to hear her calling it a date, she always does this. “How do I look?”

Turning around, she eyes your outfit and overall make-up before she, like every good friend, tells you how beautiful you look. “For a usual hang out with him, you certainly do invest a lot of time and money to look perfect.”

Rolling your eyes, you purse your lips in annoyance. “Namjoon and I are just friends. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she says back, snorting as you sport a deep scowl on your face. “Friends don't go out every Friday and weekend to a freaking museum or hang out in a bookstore, Y/N. I'm telling you, this is not just casual hanging out with your friend. We both know you've a thing for him and he certainly has a thing for you.”

You didn't know it's possible, but your scowl gets even deeper. Even though you've never admitted that you've a thing for Namjoon, your best friend knows you and no matter how subtle you're trying to act and appear all the time, she just knows. It's not that hard to tell. But Namjoon has never made any move and even though you don't like the stereotypical thought of men always doing the first move, this is more about your fear of getting rejected. Also, you don't think he has a thing for you.

Sure, he pays for your food or drinks whenever you hang out, no matter how many times you scold him for it. One time he borrowed you his jacket because it was late at night and it was freaking freezing. Namjoon has done many things that made your heart even weaker for him. But he's nice to everyone and you don't doubt he wouldn't do all these things to another girl. As much as it hurts, it's true.

And the fact he has never even hinted at the possibility of him liking you in a more serious way than just a friend who he likes to attend museums, art galleries or just casually hanging out in a bookstore or a library. As far you know, he doesn't have that many friends that share the same love for books and art like he does.

You both just clicked. You have the same interests and you hang out because you like spending time together. He's easy-going and you making plans with him almost every weekend has become a certainty. But of course, there are times when one of you can't hang out and that's completely fine.

“Well,” you clear your throat, straightening the casual yet elegant dress. “We're exactly that. Just two friends.”

“Oh, so you don't like him?” She presses. You know what she's trying to do, but you won't give her that satisfaction of being right.

“I like him… as a friend.” you point out, voice getting slightly deeper when you add the friend part.

You watch her narrow her eyes, thinking about something for a moment before she grins at you. “So you wouldn't mind if I told you I like Namjoon?”

Without realizing, you automatically tense and if you weren't so focused on the uncomfortable feeling in your chest, you'd notice the way the corners of her lips twitch.

“Since when do you like him like that?” You decide to exclaim, slightly louder than you intended.

Just like you, your best friend is easy-going too and has no problem hanging out with whoever. Even though museums and art galleries aren't her thing, or anything that you and Namjoon enjoy the most, she hung out with you and Namjoon a couple of times when you weren't exactly doing that. She'd sometimes join and none of you really minded it.

Her and Namjoon get along pretty well, but you've never noticed anything suspicious or something that could hint at her liking him that way. It definitely doesn't feel nice to hear her say it. She knows how you feel, she just wants to hear you say it. But you're stubborn and there's still a slight chance she might like him.

You mean… it's Namjoon after all.

“Why do you look so surprised? Maybe I do like him like that. I thought you liked him and well, like any good best friend, I just backed off. I mean… I'm not the one who's invited to art galleries and museums.”

“Art galleries and museums aren't even your thing.” you murmur, ignoring the jealousy bubble in your stomach.

“Did you just ignore everything I said? Hello,” she sings out, “I like Namjoon!” she exclaims and you stare at her dumbfounded, blinking a couple times. Trying to detect any emotion on her face, or whether she's serious or not, is hard and almost impossible because she just stares at you.

“What do you want me to say?” you ask her nonchalantly. “You want to hear that yes, I like him but I'm too scared to admit it because there's a high chance he doesn't like me like that? The last thing I want is to ruin our friendship.”

And then, slowly but surely, you see her corners twitching in a pleasant grin. “Yes, I actually wanted to hear that exactly.”

She got you. Oh my god. You can't believe it was this easy for her to make you admit it out loud. Your face heats up and you uncomfortably shift on your spot, but then you're met with her amused eyes and grin all over again.

So you grab the first thing you get your hands on, the other dress you had prepared as a back-up in case the ones you're wearing right now wouldn't be it, and you throw it at your best friend who starts cackling.

“Was that so hard to admit it?” she laughs, catching your dress and placing them next to her. She sits up, calming down as her features soften at your huffed face. “Look… first of all, I don't like Namjoon that way. You guys just fit together perfectly, it's hard to imagine someone else having that spark like the two of you have. However… how do you know there won't be someone who really likes Namjoon in the future? I don't mean to scare you, that's the last thing I want. But you should look at it from another side. Maybe telling him how you feel will make things easier.”

“Yeah, or worse.” you murmur.

She sighs, cocking her head slightly at you. “You never know if you won't try it. Trust me, I know Namjoon likes you. I can't say I'm hundred percent sure how things could end up, but I think it's worth a try. He's worth a try. Don't you think?”

“It's intimidating,” you admit, “I'm not the type to admit my feelings, especially not to a man when he's...” Perfect, attentive, friendly, cute, handsome, kind… “Him.”

“I don't want you to get hurt, Y/N. And I know seeing him with someone else might hurt even more than a rejection.”

You get the feeling she's right, even though you don't like hearing it.

“Oh my, look!”

You almost flinch at the loud and excited voice coming from Namjoon. You barely get the time to react when your wrist is gently grabbed by him as he's pulling you towards another room. He's gushing over the art and once you make it there, you finally realize why.

The room is filled with multiple paintings (of course) but the only difference is, that each painting is centred with each color. From bright white to dark colors such as burgundy and black. Yellow, green, red, pink, purple, blue… so many different colors. The whole room looks like a rainbow, each painting different and interesting.

“Wow,” you let out, completely amazed because it's not just very colorful but also eye-pleasing for everyone's eyes.

When you glance at Namjoon, his mouth is opened and eyes shining with complete amazement. He lets go of your wrist, leaving you slightly disappointed but it's not like you expected him to hold you there more than necessary.

You both move to the first painting, admiring the white art that portrays something like clouds and apparently wings that Namjoon notices and comments.

You're equally interested in Namjoon and his own comments, always finding his opinion and own take very interesting, just as you're interested in the art itself. Between doing this, your own mind is sometimes wandering off to a different topic and that is – your best friend's words from earlier. You can't help it, every time you hear him or look at him, it's like her words scream inside your mind.

It leaves you more quiet than usual, you mostly let Namjoon talk and hum to whatever he says. You're both standing in front of blue painting – an art that portrays most things when you think of the color blue. Water, waves, even air… all of those things can be seen in the very impressive painting. You like it, however that's the only thing that leaves your mouth as you glance at Namjoon, finding him already staring at you.

Your eyes automatically widen, surprised by his furrowed brows and even more when he lets out a silenced sigh, although you hear it very clearly.

“You don't like this, do you?” he suddenly asks, leaving you even more shocked. But before you can clarify or even ask him what does he mean by asking this, he's already talking again. “I know it's not a fancy art gallery. These paintings are painted by artists that aren't that much recognized. A lot of students actually painted most of these. Profits from the tickets are going straight to those artists, students included.”

You listen to him ramble, cheeks slightly going red when his chest heaves from how quickly he said it without taking a breath.

“No, no, I like this. I really like this art gallery,” you assure him quickly, “Why would you think otherwise?”

“Can I be honest?” he asks sweetly as usual, eyes flickering to you almost worriedly as you nod. He sighs again, fingers brushing his soft honey hair. “You're quieter than usual. I can't explain it, I feel like there's something wrong.”

Attentive as always, you're surprised and not actually surprised at the same time. Of course, he noticed there's something wrong. You're not sure whether you should be touched by that gesture or be embarrassed he figured it out.

“I… I'm sorry,” you murmur, hanging your head low for a moment before you sigh too, looking back at him. “It's not your fault… I'm just… I really like it here, okay? Please don't think I don't. I'm sorry, I'm awful right now. You bought us these tickets and I just ruined--”

“Hey,” he cuts you off softly, stepping closer as he respectfully places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. “You haven't ruined anything. You can be honest with me… or don't be. I just want to know if you're okay. If you're not feeling it tonight, we can just take a rain-check or--”

“No,” you cut him off this time, cheeks flushing at how quick you bursted those words. “I mean--I'm really happy to be here tonight. I just talked to Amia about something and that kinda got stuck in my head.”

“Did you guys have a fight?” he asks, brows furrowing in worry as you chuckle and shake your head.

You look him in the eyes, heart softening right away as you still hear her words echoing in your head. Maybe you could tell him what bothers you without telling him he's a part of it.

“No, we didn't,” you smile, bracing yourself to finally tell him the truth. Half truth, more likely. “There's just this one guy I like… and I'm kinda scared to tell him that. Amia keeps telling me I should tell him before it's too late.”

“Oh,” he lets out, dropping his hand off your shoulder immediately as he looks a little baffled. Your smile drops at that. “You like someone?”

“Yes,” You. However, you don't finish it as he gives you a slight smile. “It's stupid… I just don't know what to do.”

“Well,” he smiles again, although you don't find it honest and sweet as usual. He takes a step back, glancing at the painting as he shrugs. “You'll think of something.”

And with that he turns around and walks to another painting, leaving you with a cracking heart and open mouth.

One thing is sure… at least you didn't tell him it's him you were talking about. Because then your heart wouldn't be just cracking but it'd actually break from such a reaction

Despite what happened, the rest of your “hanging out” is going smoothly. Namjoon keeps his main focus on the paintings and just like before, you hum in response and smile his way whenever he looks at you. But you still feel a slight uncomfortable feeling in your chest. You're not sure if you're ready to cry or not… You guess you'll find out once you get back home.

Once you're about to leave, you excuse yourself to go to the restroom, to which Namjoon responds to a light and friendly “of course”. He waits for you in the lobby, fishing out his phone from the pocket of his coat in the meantime. You don't spend that much time in the restroom, you quickly do your business and join Namjoon.

You spot him almost immediately, seeing him turned with his back to you as he has a phone clutched to his ear. You stay silent, not wanting to interrupt him but you want to make your presence known, but before you can actually walk around him for him to see you, you catch a glimpse of his conversation with whoever is on the other line.

“No, it's not a date,” he groans silently. You see him lift his arm and you guess he uses it to rub his face frustratedly. “It's just… a friendly date, alright? Look, she likes someone.”

Your breath catches in your throat and for a second, you're sure you forgot how to breathe as you listen to his conversation.

“No, it's okay… I didn't exactly make it known. No, seriously. Taehyung stop--we're just friends. Nothing else.”

You bite onto your lower lip, hearing Namjoon bidding a goodbye to his friend. You take that opportunity to quickly take a few steps and stop beside him when he notices your presence. He flinches, staring at you with big eyes as he looks around himself.

“Sorry, it was Tae…” he lets out. You're not sure why he is apologizing. “He actually recommended this art gallery to me.”

He is rambling.

But you just stare at him, not really sure what to make out of his phone call. There's no doubt he was talking about you, but you're kind of puzzled what to think of it. He looks nervous, you notice right away when he keeps glancing from your eyes whenever your eye contact exceeds five seconds.

“How--how much did you hear?” he asks suddenly, gulping slightly.

You realize he knows you must've heard something. You can't see yourself, you don't even realize your features are scrunched in confusion but curiosity at the same time, but Namjoon sees it all and he almost cringes when he asks you about the phone call.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you apologize immediately, giving him a crooked smile. “I didn't hear much if that's what you're scared of. I mean… you haven't said anything that we both already didn't know.”

“What?” he breathes out.

“Well, you said we're just friends, right? That's what we are… and this,” you motion with your finger between you and him and around you, “Is just a friendly date.”

Your features turn sour, betraying you as Namjoon narrows his eyes and scans your face. He's always been very smart and you can already see the wheels turning in his head. Or it’s the bitter chuckle you let out that makes him think that you do sound almost hurt to hear him say that.

And when he looks up, the look he gives you almost scares you (not because he looks mad or something) but because he looks as if he already knows what you’re thinking. The possibility scares you and you curse at yourself for opening your mouth. You should’ve kept it shut while you had the chance.

“Somehow, you don’t seem too pleasant with that.” he tells gently, tilting his head slightly which makes your throat dry.

“With what?” you mutter. You’re stalling, knowing he already caught onto that but you act as if you didn’t know.

“With me saying that we’re just friends and this is a friendly date,” he still answers. “Would it be too bad if I said I’d be more happy without that friendly part?”

Wait—

“What?” you breathe out, eyes widening immediately. Did you hear him right?

“You know why Taehyung called me? Do you want to know what he told me?” he asks, chuckling a little at the end as he doesn’t wait for your answer. “He was trying to encourage me to tell you the truth. But I told him I can’t do that because there’s someone else in your life that you like.”

“And what is the truth, Joon?” you almost whisper, figuring out where this is going and you can’t believe it — not until you hear him say it out loud and confirm your deepest desire.

“Come on, you’re smart. You already know.” he offers softly, giving you a pained smile.

“Maybe I do want to know,” you ponder for a moment, “I want to hear you say it.”

“I like you, Y/N. A lot. And I’m a freaking coward for not telling you sooner and for always backing away whenever I had the chance to tell you how I feel.”

Your insides tremble with happiness and shock at the same time, your mouth opened and lips stretching to the biggest smile but that’s until you let out a big laugh. Namjoon looks confused, tips of ears already getting read from embarrassment. Thinking he feels the same fear of rejection that you felt at the idea of confessing, you quickly explain yourself.

“We’re both so stupid,” you shake your head, an amused grin playing on your lips as you take a step closer to Namjoon. He watches you with big curious eyes, not moving an inch. “You’re the guy I talked about. I like you too, Joon. All these evenings and days spent with you… I can’t imagine doing it with someone else. And Amia told me I should tell you but I feared you don’t see me the same way. Joon, I think we’re both idiots and cowards.”

He stares at you for a moment, not moving before he suddenly wraps his arms around your frame and hugs you tightly.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispers as you giggle, hugging him back. “All this time you liked me back?”

“Of course. I thought you wouldn’t like me back, you never made it known. You’re always sweet to anyone and apart from being the same old and amazing Namjoon, I wouldn’t be able to even guess that there’s a chance you like me.”

“Of course, I like you. You’re smart, funny and goofy. I genuinely like spending time with you.” he tells you, pulling away so you can see his honest eyes full of adoration.

Namjoon notices how skeptical you look, almost as if you don’t believe him and that’s why he decides to finally man up and take matters into his own hands. One step and he’s so close to you that your chests almost brush as you stare at him with big eyes. He cups your face, watching how your eyes grow even wider but that’s all you can do — just stare at him and thinking how this look, because it looks like he’s about to—

And then he connects your lips in an innocent kiss, soft and tender that you almost think as if you just imagined it but when you close your eyes, he’s there gently pulling away. Your lips tingle with excitement, happiness and shock at the same time and when Namjoon notices your flustered face, he chuckles.

“Sorry, I hope that wasn’t too straightforward of me,” he says, features slightly twisting to worried eyes when you don’t respond and just stare at him.

Did he really kiss you? He kissed you. Namjoon kissed you.

“I’ve been meaning to do that every time we hung out.”

“I—wow,” you breathe out, fingers slightly grazing over your lips as you smile at Namjoon. “I guess we’re both cowards. If I told you sooner too, we could’ve kissed way sooner.”

That makes Namjoon laugh, a genuine laugh as he reaches for your face and gently strokes your cheek.

“Can I take you on a date? A real date that we both consider a date?” he pleads.

Your heart is jumping with happiness, hands slightly trembling as you let out a nervous giggle. But then you reach for his hands, squeezing them while all he can see in your eyes is genuine happiness. However, it’s Namjoon’s turn to look slightly nervous as he shifts on his spot but doesn’t usher you to give him an answer. He is patient, looking at you with fondness and honesty.

And when you finally open your mouth to respond, you see the most beautiful dimpled smile that makes your whole chest tingle with so much love. Maybe it’s too soon to call it that but you already know what you’re feeling, so your answer is more than clear.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

#networkbangtan #ficswithluv #bts smut #bts fluff #bts au #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon fanfic #personasintro

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bonny-kookoo · 3 years

Text

Under Your Skin (JJK x Reader) | 🔞

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Goth/Punk!Jeon Jungkook x Secretary!Shy!Reader

Genre: Tattoo artist!AU, Badboy x Sweetgirl AU, Idk what else

Tags/Warnings: Ultimate goodboy Kook, He looks grr but is actually sweet, shy reader, smol reader, Kookers is WHIPPED, Also a tease, Dom!Jungkook because how could I not, Sub!Reader, Babygirl!Reader, Its not heavy on the whole ddlg-stuff but yeah they be having some vibes y'know, don't come @ me don't I'm not forcing you to read it lol, anyways moving on, because smut, yes I mean it's my content, and yall nasty admit it, slight hair pulling, manhandling also only a little, oral (f & m receiving), praising, mentions of emotional and physical insecurities, but Kook be supportive so we good, back to the nasty, body worship yes pls, biting, fingering, because why not, protected sex because we keep it clean in this household, light-hearted sex, kook being a romantic goof, yeah I think thats it?

Summary: Jungkook looks like absolute trouble; like one wrong look could set him off, and turn him into an absolute murderer. But oh well, ever heard the phrase 'Never judge a book by its cover'?

A/N: you might have noticed me only putting one emoji up top. I have decided to from now on only mark my adult fics with emojis (which is basically almost every single one lets be real). Also; stop reading my fucking fics if any of the tagged/warned things make you uncomfortable. I'm tired of everyone clowning in my inbox telling me how disgusting ddlg/smut content is. You can't even tell me you 'read it by accident' because that's why I'm always putting the cut underneath my fics =) so pls go finish preschool and then we can maybe shake hands. Maybe not. Covid and all. Yeah.

On the outside, Jeon Jungkook seems like absolute trouble.

He's working at a tattoo and piercing studio, dresses in all black, clattering chains and heavy boots always alerting everyone around of his presence. His long black hair is never truly tamed, his nails painted black, and his face expressionless most of the time. He's a talented artist and well trained piercer, always visiting conventions to keep up with the newest trends, styles, and equipment there is. He takes his job seriously- and is proud of it, knowing that he had proven his family wrong by now. They had been worried about him; especially his mother had scolded him that he shouldn't throw his time away trying to make it in a world of art many had already failed. But last year, he had finally invited them over to his rather nice apartment, showing them that he was living a good life, with nothing to really worry about.

Jungkook had made it.

Well, not quite.

Because as of currently, Jungkook had a new mission, a new goal.

"Ah, Jungkook!" You say, eyes sparkling as you smile at him when he enters the shop he works at. You had recently started to work there as well, since Taehyung was absolute shit at keeping files in order and track of schedules. You hadn't applied for the job specifically, that's at least what his coworker had told him- he had known you prior already, and was aware that you had wanted a change these days.

And Jungkook had been painfully crushing on you ever since you started.

"Your schedule for the week is already here- I uhm.. didn't put it on your desk cause, I didn't want to intrude your space and all.." You say, giving him a small black booklet where you always noted down his appointments. He appreciated it a lot- knowing how much of a hassle it could be to move dates back and forth just to somehow make it fit. You always made sure that he had enough time in between multiple daily pieces in case something took longer or less so you could make sure to be able to move things accordingly. You didn't want him to get overworked, you had said. He had smiled.

"Thanks- and you can go inside, no problem." He says, and you nod. "I know you don't make a mess, like someone else here." He says, hinting at Namjoon, who was known to be quite clumsy- yet a mastermind when it came to designing pieces he struggled with. Jungkook stayed at your front desk for a bit, making you tilt your head a bit, as you tried not to stare. He always took so much care of himself, you would have had to be blind not to see how attractive he actually was. But then again, you didn't get your hopes up- after all, he was nice to almost everyone around. "You've never been in there, right?" He asks, and you shake your head. You haven't been in his space at all- too scared to invade his privacy and making him upset in the process. "I mean- you got time right now? I can show you around." He casually tells you, and you look at your computer screen in front of you. Everything had been filed for today- so you probably had a bit of time to spare.

"Sure." You said, taking your phone and standing up from your chair, making sure to lock the pc so no one would accidentally make a mess out of your tabs. Or worse; close them. God knows all hell would break loose.

Jungkook had to really force himself not to let out any noise as you walked next to him.

You were so tiny next to him.

He wasn't that tall to be honest- with Namjoon and Taehyung both taller than him, he knew he was average at best. And for the longest time, he'd had a thing for tall girls, all elegant and confident. He still liked their aesthetic, yes- but now that he spotted you, he could really see the appeal of having a shorter significant other.

You were so cute.

You carefully stepped inside when Jungkook lifted the curtain that was used instead of a door, surprised to see how.. organized everything was. A little.. off- some things seemed to be randomly put somewhere, but in general, it seemed like everything had their proper spot. "I like to have it like this." He comments, and you nod your head to that, finally spotting his tattoo-gun. It was made out of purple steel- polished, and changing its hue depending on how you looked at it. It was absolutely beautiful, even though you had a rather limited understanding of these things. "Was a present from Taehyung last year." Jungkook says, sitting down on his chair. "I never asked- are you inked at all?" He asks, leaning backwards as you stand there a little awkwardly. "You can sit down somewhere, don't be so tense." He chuckles, and you look around, before you sit on the stretcher across from him. You shake your head, and Jungkook isn't surprised. Your pink converse sway back and forth as you sit on the stretcher, legs too short to reach the floor anymore as you rest your hands underneath your thighs; hem of your dress revealing more of them than he can usually see.

"I don't have any tattoos yet, but I've been talking to Namjoon about it." You said, and Jungkooks saliva tastes a little bitter at that. He doesn't want to pout or give away that it's bugging him at all that you're not talking to him about it- but he fails miserably. "Namjoon actually said I should talk to you about it, since the style I want fits you best." You say, and he can't hide his smile, bunny teeth on full display as he leans forward a bit.

"You'd let me tattoo you?" He asks, and you shrug, before nodding. "What do you have in Mind?" He instantly asks, not even bothering to hide his excitement.

If only you knew that it's because of you; and not just because he's gonna be the first to ink you.

You've both agreed on a design you want, and Jungkook can't deny that he thinks it's absolutely perfect on you.

"Are you scared?" Jungkook asks you as he prepares everything, his sweater's sleeves rolled up, revealing his own body art to you, as well as some bracelets; one that you recognize as the wooden-bead bracelet you had gifted him last year for his birthday. It was weird to see him wear it.

"I.. no. Just nervous." You say. "I'm worried I might cry and make a fool out of myself." You say with a laugh, and Jungkook chuckles, placing a reassuring and warm hand on your upper arm.

"It's fine. I've seen grown man cry like kids on this stretcher before." He casually says. "Don't worry; I won't think any less of you just because of some tears." He says with a smile, and you nod, turning your head to look at his room's walls instead; covered in drawings, sketches, and pictures of finished works he was most proud of. "Do you want anything to hold onto?" He asks, as he starts to shave the skin of your thigh to make sure he can work as best as possible. He's so into his work, so concentrated on doing everything perfect, that he doesn't even take much into account that you're laying in only your panties and oversized sweater; skirt neatly placed on a chair in the corner of the room, to get it out of the way.

"It's fine" You mumble, although you really want to. So instead you curl your fingers around the fabric of your sweater- something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, who decides not to comment on it for now. He simply throws the one-time razor away as well as the tissues used to clean your skin, before he carefully places the tracing paper onto where he seems fit.

"I think it would look great right here." He says lowly, carefully removing the paper to reveal the lines he's gonna trace with his gun in a few minutes. "You wanna look at it again?" He asks, and you shake your head. "Alright." He says, before he gets up and walks out his room; only to return with your small squishy and round unicorn plush that's usually sitting on your desk. "To hold onto." He winks, and you chuckle at that.

Jungkook really pays attention.

"So, Taehyung has told me you're a bit younger than me." Jungkook says to start casual chit-chat, trying to help your nervousness as his tattoo-gun starts to buzz to live. "Only a Year if I remember correctly." He says, and you nod.

"Yeah.." You say, and can't hide your dissapoinment flooding your voice. Jungkook, until now, only had relationships with girls older than him. He's even said before that he just likes having someone older than him around- which made you even more nervous around him.

"You sound upset about that." He chuckles, and gently holds onto your thigh as you jump a bit when he first presses the tip of the gun down. "Sorry. I'll be gentle." He lowly tells you, and you swallow.

Not the time Y/N, not the time.

"Uhm.." You say, fingers digging into the squishy plush in your hands. "I.. there's someone I like, but he.. only likes older girls, so.." You say, and Jungkook glances at you. You're already interested in someone? He continues to trace the lines, wiping afterwards to get the excess ink and blood off. "But I mean, then again I don't think I have a chance with him anyways." You chuckle, and Jungkook can't help but shake his head. Even if you're interested in someone else, he shouldn't let you have thoughts like that.

"Highly doubt that." He says. "If he doesn't see you, he's blind." He tells you, and you giggle, glad that he's able to make you feel a bit better about everything. "I'm serious." He says, and you nod at that, watching his inked arm flex every now and then as he draws with absolute concentration; black facemask hiding half of his face. You can see the way his eyebrows furrow, eyes fixated on his work as he moves with absolute routine. "Do I know the guy?" He casually asks, before he dips the tip of his gun in the tiny pot of ink again.

You don't know what to say.

He looks at you for a second, and decides not to dig. "You don't have to tell me. Sorry if I seemed nosy; didn't mean to." He apologizes, and you shake your head to let him know its fine. It's quiet for a moment afterwards, only the buzzing of his gun and your occasional whine of pain. "Sorry; it'll hurt a bit more now since I'm getting close to your inner thigh- that's always a little more sensitive." He comments, and you really hope he doesn't pay much attention to your panties.

When you can see his eyes stick to them for a second, you really want to just disappear.

He doesn't comment on it though. What is he suppsosed to say? He really doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and considering that you already have a crush on someone else, he doesn't want to get himself in too deep as well. He simply works away, finally finishing the thin and delicate outlines of your piece- the first step, before he will see you again for color and shading. He finally connects the last line, and doesn't think twice about what he says next.

"Good girl."

It takes a second that feels way too long for the both of you to register the words, and Jungkook quickly occupies himself with turning off his gun and cleaning up your skin and his workspace to get the awkwardness out of his room. You try to instantly stand up, but his palm holds onto your leg- silently ordering you to stay put, which you do. He rubs something over the piece, before he gently lifts your leg to wrap it. "I'll give you a bottle of lotion for it. Leave that bandage on for.. I'd say until tomorrow morning at least. Afterwards, apply the lotion everyday to help it heal properly." He lectures you with a gentle voice, before letting you sit up.

"Thanks." You say, grinning eagerly at the now hidden artwork on your leg. Jungkook chuckles.

"We're not done yet, but I'll take it." He says. "I uh.." He starts, as you jump off the stretcher and go to take on your skirt. "uhm, you up for some fast food?" He asks, a bit hurried, before he can chicken out again. And he hates himself for a moment, because you had literally told him just half an hour before that you already had interest in someone else. But maybe you were too innocent to get his innuendo, maybe you wouldn't get that he was asking you on a date-

"Like a date?" You ask, and he really wants to hit himself.

"I mean, if you want it to be?" He says, swallowing as he averts his gaze, a sight very weird. His hand runs through his hair, chain around his neck and piercings on his ears clattering against each other and making sounds as he moves, his combat boots nervously tapping the floor a little. "It doesn't have to be.. I know you're already-"

"I'd love to." You say however, now fully dressed again, as you grin with your bright sparkling eyes.

And Jungkook feels like he's won the lottery.

It's your third time laying on Jungkooks' stretcher like this- waiting for him to work on your art, finishing it today. But the energy is different.

Things are different between you two in general.

After some casual movie dates and rounds of overwatch, Jungkook had admitted to you that he had a crush. It was rushed, while he was driving, so he didn't have to look at you and instantly get hit by your reaction. But then, you had told him that you felt the same- and the two of you agreed to let things process from then on. Whatever would happen; you would let happen.

And Jungkook was starting to flirt with you.

It was a little weird to get close to him like that. While everyone seeing you two was a little taken aback- with your dresses and skirts, and colorful and almost childish personality, he seemed like the absolute opposite- quiet, all dark and dangerous while carrying your milkshake so you could put your phone away into your purse.

"Alright doll, let's finish this." He said with newfound enthusiasm, winking at you as you laughed at his demeanor.

"You seemed more excited than me!" You say, and he chuckles. "You're really desperate to have me gone?" You say in a playfully upset tone, and he simply huffs out a breath, before cockily looking at you for a second.

"That's not true." He says. "I'd just rather have you laid out somewhere else than in my studio, that's all." He casually says, and you shut your mouth at that, cheeks red as he laughs at your cute display of embarrassment. He routinely prepares your skin, before he starts his gun. "Too much?" He asks, and you know he's not talking about the pressure of his ink filled gun on your skin.

"No-" You start, and he now seriously speaks to you, voice a bit muffled through his facemask.

"Please tell me if I ever make you uncomfortable." He says. "You're not upsetting me if you tell me I'm going to far." He says, and you nod, knowing that he now needs a proper answer. Jungkook is way more attentive and romantic than people may think he is. He's a gentleman pulled out of a dictionary- careful and gentle with you, and always keen on getting to know you for you, and not for the person you like to portray yourself as. He wants to know what you like, what you don't like, what you dream of, and what you hate about yourself.

"Don't worry- I will." You say, watching him work on your skin. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums a reply to let you know he's listening. "Is it okay if I sleep?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"Didn't I tell you not to stay up for too long before I left yesterday?" He teasingly retorts back to you, and you pout at him- with no hard feelings behind it. He had left last night after eating with you for dinner at your place; and he did indeed tell you to go to sleep a little earlier since he knew you would have an early shift today, opening up the store. "I'm really tempted to say no." He says, eyes now on your skin again as he dips the tip of his gun in a pot of color. "You know, as punishment for not listening." He mumbles, and you almost don't catch it.

Almost.

"Jungkook?" Taehyung stands in his doorway, finally finding him sitting at his desk. "Oh?" He says in a surprised tone, spotting your sleeping figure on his coworkers lap- head resting against the inside of his shoulder, with your arms around his middle.

"Yeah?" Jungkook asks, not at all shy or fazed by the fact that Taehyung is looking at you. "What is it?" He asks again, as Taehyung smiles, giving the younger man his small booklet that you usually give him every morning.

"Nothing left for today." He said. "Just wanted to tell you good work and send you home." The older one explains, zipping up his own jacket. "Guess she'll be coming with you?" He asks teasingly, but Jungkook doesn't bite the bait at all.

"Yeah. Don't burn the house down while we're gone, you two. " He says, slipping the booklet into his pocket before he pats your back. "Come on doll, let's go home." He tells you, waking you up at least enough to put on your shoes and lead you out the store to his car.

He buckles your seatbelt as the engine comes alive, radio playing its tune softly in the background as he drives you home. "You awake doll?" He asks, and you nod your head, turning towards him with barely open eyes. "You haven't had anything proper to eat today, so I'll make us some ramen at my place, ok?" He asks, and you nod, before your eyebrows scrunch up. "What is it?" He chuckles, and you now grow more awake.

"Wait- but if we eat at yours then you're gonna have to drive me home late." You say, and he shrugs. "Noo, Kook, what if you crash the car because you're sleepy?" You tell him with a whine, genuinely concerned for him, as he has the audacity to laugh. "Kookie, it's not funny I swear to god-!" You say, and he apologizes.

"I mean." He starts, casually dropping what he had wanted to ask you for a couple of weeks now. "You could always just stay over." He tells you, and you look at him, meeting his gaze at the red light he stops at, his head turned towards you for a moment until the lights turn green again.

"We.. would have to stop at mine so I could get some stuff though.." You mumble, and Jungkook looks at you with newfound enthusiasm, setting his turning lights to enter a different road.

It's in a parking lot that you first unintentionally confront him with your biggest insecurities and flaws.

You've tripped over a stray stone you didn't see laying on the ground, leading you to fall onto your hands and scraping your knees open. Just like any normal human being, you dust yourself off, instantly hoping that Jungkook inside the shop hadn't seen you fail at something so basic as walking. You had carried some of the items you two had bought into the car while also returning the shopping cart while he had payed- and by the look on his face, he had definitely seen you.

He wasn't laughing, or hiding his grin, or anything alike. He looked concerned, taking his card back from the cashier before walking out the store, jogging towards you, who sat in the open trunk, ready to get laughed at. Even though somewhere deep in your mind you didn't think he would, past experiences had led to you now having that fear, no matter with whom. "Are you okay?" Jungkook asks, looking at you as he squats down to take a look at your bleeding knees. He reaches into one of the shopping bags, taking out a water bottle and a pack of tissues, before he wets it, one hand holding your leg by the backside of your knee, while the other carefully cleans the small wound. "You gotta be careful Baby." He chuckles a little- nothing like the laughter you had expected.

"I'm fine." You say, not looking up at him.

"It's okay to cry, you know?" He says, and you stay quiet, trying not to breathe too much as you desperately hold them back. "I won't laugh." He promises, deciding not to look at you as to give you a bit more space.

"People will stare though.." You quietly murmur towards him, and he finishes his job, before he goes to throw the now used tissue away in a nearby trashcan. When he returns, he's taking his jacket off, the item way too large on your form as he throws it over you, pulling the hood up as you look at him for the first time since your little accident, eyes sparkling with unshed tears when he pulls the sides of the hood towards him a little. "There." He says, a reassuring smile on his face. "Now no one can see you but me." He tells you. "And I will never, ever, laugh at you." He promises, and pulls your head against his chest, as you start to let go.

He really hates to see you cry- but he's glad that you're letting him in enough to let him see you this way.

Jungkook is frustrated.

He tries not to really show it, because he doesn't want to blow up in your face like that, but then again, you're kind of the reason he feels the way he does. Because even though he thought you both had a genuine connection, you're yet to let him touch you.

And not just hugging and holding hands.

It's not that he's impatient- its because he knows you, at one point, wanted him that way as well. But something happened, something he didn't notice, that made you take ten steps backwards from him. You seemed to be retreating, giving up, and he has no idea what he had done to make you react that way.

As far as he knows, he had done everything right.

But then he sees them; the messages sent back and forth between you and Hana, a returning customer at the shop- well known to flirt with everyone around here. Jungkook himself had actually considered hooking up with her once a year back, simply to make her shut up, but then again, he wasn't into one-night-stands. And she had never truly been his type anyways.

'Ah yeah, just re-schedule that then, I don't mind at all! Just make sure we have enough time together, since we haven't had time to catch up on things recently, if you know what I mean.' She had sent, a week ago; exactly the timeframe you had started to distance yourself. He knew he shouldn't look into it, but then again- this was his business too. He had the right to know.

'Sure? I can give you an appointment at around 4 PM then, so you'll be the last one. Would that be okay with you? Again, sorry for re-scheduling on such short notice.' You had written, and Jungkook can't decide if you had been oblivious to her implication (which was bullshit), or if you were simply too polite to call her out. But it's the next messages that make him fume.

'Again, no troubles. As I said, I only care that its Jungkookie, I don't really trust anyone else with my body that way ;). 4 PM is perfect, you guys still close at around 6 PM right? He's got skilled hands, I'm sure we don't need much more time, if you know what I mean.' she has the audacity to write.

But its your answer that makes him fume.

'Good to know.'

"Jungkook?" You say, looking at the screen, as you suddenly dash forwards, trying to shut the screen off- as if that would make any difference. But he catches your wrist with ease, holding it in his palm as he looks at you.

"Do you think I'm sleeping with her?" He asks, and you try to escape his grasp; and he lets you, staying at your workspace however as he keeps you locked in place with his gaze. "Y/N." He urges, making you look away from him.

"It's none of my business." You say, shrugging. "I.. No, it's-" You start, but he cuts you off.

"No, finish that sentence. 'No' what?" He says, and you've never heard him talk like that.

"I just.. didn't think you'd.. do that." You meekly say, murmuring it as he tilts your head gently upwards to look at him; his face now more relaxed as he softly smiles.

"That's good that you think that way." He tells you. "Because I don't do that at all." He says. "She likes to start drama all the time- was probably bitter I turned her down so much. You know what?" He suddenly says, turning towards the screen as he clicks to change the account, opening his own Inbox as he starts to write an E-Mail.

'Appointment is cancelled, be glad I'm not suing you for defamation. JK.'

"Jungkook-" You say, trying to get him not to send it- but it's already gone. "Why would you do that? Just because I misunderstood?" You whine, and he chuckles, shutting down the system as he looks at the clock, signaling that it's closing time.

"No." He says. "But because I don't want her around anyways, and this gives me a proper reason." He tells you, ruffling your hair as he looks at you. "You coming?" He asks, and you nod, taking your bag and coat before following him out the shop.

In the car, you finally speak up. "Jungkook?" You ask, and he hums out a reply. "Do you.. think I'm attractive?" You ask, and he clears his throat at the unexpected question.

"I- what?" He asks, unsure what you mean.

"Just.. Namjoon said, that he thinks you.. see me as a friend only? Because I'm nothing like the girls you dated before.. If I misunderstood something here then Oh my god-" You start to ramble, and Jungkook laughs suddenly.

"You think I'm not into you?" He asks, and you shrug. "Of course I want to fuck you doll." He casually comments, and you can't help but feel your cheeks redden. "Wait- did you really think I didn't?" He asks, face showing genuine horror as he looks over at you.

"I mean.. you never really initiated anything so I thought.." You started, and he groans out.

Thank god you're staying the night.

"Looks so pretty, does it?" He hums out, palm running over the tattoo on your thigh, delicate lines and well-placed shadings complimenting the colors perfectly. "You know why I love it most?" He starts, hand suddenly gripping the flesh for a moment, before he pulls you closer on his lap by the small of your back. "Because that's mine." He says, before he leans in, placing an open mouthed kiss against your pulse. "The ink that's under your skin, the design, the idea-" He mumbles against your skin. "And the body it's drawn on." You whine at his tone, dark and low, as he urges you back and forth on his clothed thigh- your panties suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "Isn't it like that, baby?" He asks, and you nod, furiously, and he chuckles. "Hm, you seem out of breath baby.." He grins at you, like a predator.

"Jungkook.." You whine, not knowing what you're asking for.

He wordlessly moves, helping you lay down on his bed before he crawls over you, his lips instantly attached to the skin of your neck, hands helping you out of your dress wordlessly, as he can't help but let his gaze linger on your body for a moment. "I can't believe that-" He says, pulling off your overknee socks. "-you'd ever think of yourself anything less than perfect." He says, placing a gentle kiss to the colorful image now forever placed under your skin by his skilled hands. He continues to display his affection over your skin, wandering over your stomach up to your chest, where he playfully bites just above your breast. He struggles with the front of your bra for a second, unsure how to open the undergarment without breaking it, as you help a little; letting them spring free. But only for a moment.

Because in the next, he's got them in his hands, palms gently moving over them, feeling their softness as he groans. "You're so sweet." he comments, as he finally kisses your lips, smile interrupting him every now and then. "So soft." Another kiss. "So delicate." Another one. "And all mine, yeah?" He asks, and you nod, smiling as he grins back, the expression making him look so young and carefree you can't help but wonder how anyone could ever think he's a bad man.

He's anything but.

He's so careful touching you, so delicate in moving his palms over your skin, as if its the most divine thing he's ever felt. He's still smiling, as if in a trance, while he can't stop kissing you. Your hands move into his hair- way softer than you thought it would be, and he groans into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers running over his scalp.

There's no urgency in anything he does.

He slowly moves again, hands opening your legs for him as he sits back on his heels, playfully pulling you closer by the backs of your knees, making you giggle. "You sound so sweet baby." He tells you, innocently, as if he's not currently placing his hand onto your center, ring finger collecting your already leaking wetness before he spreads it, moving his thumb over your most sensitive bundle of nerves while his ring finger enters you slowly. You whine at the feeling, not enough to get you as riled up as you'd like to be. Also; this is the first time you're genuinely experiencing foreplay. You don't know what to do- and Jungkook seems to pick up on that. "You good?" He asks, and you nod.

"I.." You say, breathless as he tilts his head, smile still present on his lips. "What should I do?" You ask, as his eyes widen.

"You?" He wonders, before he stops for a moment. "Don't tell me- this is your first time?" He asks, now genuinely worried he might've gone too fast.

"No.." You admit. "But uhm.. no one's ever, like.. you know, what you're doing.." You say, and that's when it clicks for him.

What kind of guys did you date before him that never gave you any attention like this? He's upset by it, but also weirdly cheered on by that simple fact; it gives him even more reason to make sure you'll get the most out of it. "Ah, I see.." He humms out, letting another finger stretch your entrance for him. "..well, I'm not like that." He explains, before he moves, face now close to your center- and you're unsure what he's going to do. "Trust me." He says, mumbles out, before his tongue places itself flat onto your clit, licking painfully slow as you move your hands over your mouth, trying to keep your noises in. "nuh-uh baby." He scolds, free hand pulling yours away. "Let me hear you." He demands, before he places his mouth back where it was.

Your mind is completely blank at this moment, the only thing you can really concentrate on being Jungkook, working you up so quickly you feel dizzy. It's new, and it's a little weird- but it's more than anything you've ever experienced before. And it brings you towards your end so suddenly you suddenly gasp out, back arching off the mattress as you grab at the sheets below, one hand grasping for Jungkooks, who lets you ride out your high to its fullest. "So pretty." He comments after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, smiling at your blissed out state.

"Kook-" You say, moving as you sit up, less shy now that your brain is still clouded by pleasure.

"Ah- you don't have to." He tells you, but you shake your head, and he lets you. He slips out of his clothes, finally bare, and you would've taken time to look at all the different pieces of art decorating his body- if it wasn't for his cock, red and ready in front of you. Usually, you would've let your insecurities and doubts get the best of you. But this was Jungkook. And you wanted to really believe that nothing you would do could ever be judged by him. So there was no hesitation as your hands reached out for him, gently moving, before you took him in, your lips wrapping themselves around his tip, before you moved downwards, fitting as much as you comfortably could. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself was steadying himself with one hand on the mattress, while the other was buried into your hair, his own head thrown back as he closed his eyes.

Of course he had fantasized about this every now and then; but he had never thought you'd actually be comfortable doing it. And even if- nothing he could've imagined would've ever compared to the real deal happening. There was something absolutely mindblowing about the way that you handled him, your sweet and pretty presence looking so divine doing such a sinful act with him. He had to pull you off by your hair, gently, because any more, and he would've been a goner. "G-Good god baby." He chuckles, pushing you a bit so you were on your back again, reaching for his bedside table to search for a condom. "I swear to god if I- HAH!" He tells you in victory, hands making quick work of opening the foil package and wrapping the safety over his length. "I swear I would've run out butt naked to buy one if I wouldn't have found this." He says with a grin, making you laugh.

"That's weird." You comment, and he chuckles, entering you slowly as to not hurt you, his breathing labored as he still kept the lighthearted energy going.

"You think?" He asks, and you nod, giggling as your eyes close, the feeling of him filling you up too good to keep them open. "Hm no." He said breathlessly. "Would've probably put on some pants maybe." He says, before he starts thrusting. "Doesn't matter if it means I'd get to fuck you." He says, and you giggle again.

"Kook!" You scold him, and he still continues to thrust into you, exhaling forcefully as he kisses your neck.

"What?" He whines high pitched as if to imitate you.

"Be serious!" You tell him, but can't help your own smile either.

"Oh, why though?" He says. "We're making love, not war baby." He whispers into your ear, and you still laugh at it.

"I can't believe you!" You complain playfully, moaning out when he suddenly thrusts with more force, obscene noises now interrupting you two as he picks up his pace, clenching his jaw.

"And-" He starts. "I can't believe how fucking good you feel." He presses out, hand now reaching between the two of you as he brings you towards an earth-shattering orgasm, making you mewl as you can feel yourself bursting. "Good girl!" He praises, watching as you squirt all over him, his own orgasm hitting him soon after as he grunts out, finally slowing down until he stills completely, his mouth attached to your neck to place gentle kisses and teasing bites near your pulse point.

"I love you." He mumbles out, and your eyes sting.

Because yeah, you love him- you absolutely do, but hearing it from him, hearing it in such an honest and warm-hearted tone, having this final proof of his own feelings towards you, makes you emotional. "Baby, why're you crying?" He chuckles out of breath, wiping your tears as you smile, and finally look at him with glossy eyes.

"Cause I love you too." You say. "So much."

And he can't help but grin at you.

You really are the sweetest thing.

You watch as Hana walks out of Taehyungs studio, arm wrapped up in clear foil as she walks towards your counter, pulling out her purse. "Taehyung agreed on 345." She says, until Taehyung yells another number out of his studio, making her eyes roll. She wasn't supposed to come back- but Taehyung had agreed to finish her piece at least. "Alright, here you go." She says, watching as you counted the money. "Does Jungkook work today?" She asks, and you nod. "I'm just gonna go say hi then. You can finish the receipt yeah?" She says overly sweet, and you're about to tell her that Jungkook doesn't want anyone entering without his permission, but he's already walking out his studio, black sweater and silver necklaces on full display as he walks towards you. "Jungkookie!" Hana exclaims, but her face drops almost chomically as she watches Jungkook walk up behind you, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder as he looks over it onto your screen.

"Oh, looks like I'm done for the day. You need anything Hana?" He asks innocently, one hand on your desk while the other rests on your chair behind your back.

"I- just wanted to apologize for uhm.. the emails. I didn't know you'd read them." She says, and you slowly close all programs, while Jungkooks humms out something.

"Yeah, I figured." He says, before he shakes his head. "As I said, I'm letting it go. No hard feelings." He says, shrugging, before he walks towards his studio again, stopping in his tracks for a second. "Ah, baby, can you text Jin-Hyung and ask him if we can come now? I'm actually starving I swear." He says, and you nod with red cheeks, pulling out your phone.

"Huh." Comes from Hana, as she takes the receipt from you. "I honestly.. would've never thought." She mumbles, before she simply leaves, without any more words.

Yeah. You would've honestly never thought either.

(c)Bonny-Kookoo. Please consider supporting me on Ko-Fi.com/bonnykookoo. Thank you for reading.

#bts imagine #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts smut #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts reactions

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next. (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

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your-nerd-is-showing · 4 years

Text

Gojo x Reader: Bath time Fun

NSFW AFTER PHOTO

Artist Credit to @Rennca_ on Twitter

“Good morning my beautiful (Y/N)!” Gojo came in waking you up with breakfast in bed. He placed the food down and jumped into bed cuddling with you.

You rolled over and kissed Gojo. “Good morning my love!”

“Eat up while I draw a bubble bath for us to share!”

“Satoru thank you!” You grabbed his hand pulling back into bed giving him another kiss.

Gojo went into the bathroom to start your bubble bath, he put a custom made cupcake scented bath bomb that had a surprise in the center of it, along with vanilla bubble bath foam to hide the gift. He hid a vibrator on the side of the tub.

He hurried his way back into the bedroom just in time as you finished breakfast to collect the tray. “I’ll be right back my love don’t move!” He winked at you as he disappeared and was back before you knew it. He picked you up and carried you to the bathroom. “Are you ready for an amazing bath my love?” He asked as he started to undress you.

“Mmmmmm y-yes I am Satoru.” You wined out as he kissed your neck and groped your breasts. “O-ohhhhhhh!” You shivered at his touch as he slipped his hand into your pajama shorts. “S-Sa-Satoruuuuuu!” Your legs started to tremble as he rubbed your clit and slipped your shorts off with his other hand.

Gently groping your butt he pushed you towards the bathtub. “Mmmmmm that’s a good girl.” He cooed as he bent you over the tub and got down on his knees.

You looked down to see Gojo under you as he dove face first into your soaking core. “Ohhhhhh Satoruuuuuu!” You moaned out as he nibbled on your clit making you almost lose your balance as your knees buckled.

“Don't worry I got you baby girl.” He held your hips as he slowly lowered you onto his face instantly making you squirt as he nipped at your clit.

You grabbed onto the tub as you grinded on his face. “Oooooooh Sa-to-ru!” Your hips started to buck as he flicked his tongue, you could feel the tension is your stomach starting to build as you grinded on his face. “F-fuck S-Satoru I'm-I'm gonna cum!” You moaned out just as you were about to reach your climax he stopped. “Wh-what the hell Satoru why did you stop!?” You yelled in frustration as you got off of him.

“You're not allowed to cum for me yet my sweet, sweet (Y/N).”

You glared at him. “….Fine….”

“Oh don’t worry I plan on having you screaming my name within the next few minutes my love.” He flashed you a sexy smile as he got undressed.

You got lost looking at his gorgeously chiseled features completely forgetting why you were mad at him. You couldn’t help but stare and stare some more at your inhumanly beautiful boyfriend. You always questioned how you got so lucky and ended up with the hottest guy in Tokyo, well you thought he was the hottest guy in Tokyo…. And according to the constant love notes he got from admirers he was definitely a catch. “How did I get so lucky?” You cooed.

“What do you mean beautiful? I’m the lucky one here.” He said as he pulled you into his arms.

You shook your head. “No I am…. I am dating the most handsome, sweet, sexy, caring, wonderful man in Tokyo….. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure this isn’t a dream!” You giggled. “Never in my life did I think someone like me could end up with someone like you Satoru.”

“What do you mean by that love?” He asked confused.

“I just never thought I was anything special, I never really stood out and from knowing you, you seemed like the type to want to date someone more interesting than me.” You chuckled.

He shrugged. “Baby girl you’re very interesting! You’re the only girl I’ve ever met who didn’t have an instant crush on me. That’s what made me want you! I hate it when girls throw themselves at me so willingly, I love a challenge in a girl.” He smirked at you.

“Well I did have an instant crush on you but I didn’t want to throw myself at you…. That seems desperate and rather unattractive. Plus I saw all those girls fawning over you so I never thought I had a chance….”

“When I saw you that first day standing in the corner away from everyone looking so shy and so cute with your little black dress on. I knew then I had to make you mine.”

“I remember that day all too well….” You laughed. “All the other girls looked like they wanted to murder me when you walked up and started talking to me completely ignoring everyone else. It was so amusing to watch their reactions as you flirted with me.”

“Honestly I wasn’t even paying any attention to any of them…. My eyes were glued to you and you alone as I watched you become a hot mess while I flirted with you.”

“Well not knowing you from a hole in the wall you were rather intimidating with those gorgeous eyes and the fact that I am so tiny compared to you. You tower over me Mr. 6’4” and lil 5’4” me I'm like a little toy compared to you Satoru.”

He picked you up and held you close. “You fit perfectly in my arms, I love small girls…. It’s kind of a fetish for me.” He chuckled. “Me being so big and tall I just love someone small that I can pick up and toss around.” He cupped your butt as you wrapped your legs around his torso moaning as his length rubbed against your slit.

“S-Satoru!” You wined out as he carried you into the bathtub and sat you in his lap facing him. You placed your legs on each side of Gojo straddling him as you leaned in kissing him passionately.

Without you noticing Gojo reached down to grab the vibrator, he slowly moved it between your legs and turned it on placing it right on your clit making you moan. He thrusted his hips perfectly sliding inside you.

“Ofh myha gabb Saaftoruuuuuuu!” You moaned into his mouth as he pounded in you. You broke the kiss and held onto his shoulders as you wildly bounced up and down on him. “Oh my God babyyyyyyy! F-fuck just like that Satoruuuuuu!” Your back arched as you slammed down on his cock feeling your walls clench around him you came.

“Mmmmm baby girl that’s it cum all over my dick, God I love the way you feel on him!” He moaned out as he held your hips thrusting deeper and harder.

You held onto Gojo for dear life as he fucked you senseless. “Sa-to-ruuuuuuu! F-fuckkkkk I love youuuuu!” You screamed out in pleasure as you rode him.

Gojo thrusted his hips faster and faster almost making you smack into his head as you bounced up and down. He held onto you pulling you in close so you wouldn’t hit your head as he went deeper.

Suddenly you took control and slowed down the pace rocking your hips savoring the feeling and Gojo's sweet whimpers.

“Ah-ahhhhhh (Y-Y/N-N) fu-fuckkkkk! That feels so-sooooo gooooood!” He moaned out as you fucked him.

“Mmmmmm you like that baby?” You said in a sultry voice.

“Y-yes baby girl please don’t stopppppop!” He howled as he thrusted into you getting in sync going nice and slow. “Fuck I love how you ride him babe.”

You held his shoulders as you kept a steady pace he leaned down and sucked on your nipple. “Ohhhhh babyyyy!”

Suddenly he picked you up and pushed you into the wall spreading your legs as he pounded into you.

“F-fuckkkk Satoruuuuuu! I'm go-gonna cummmmmm again!” You cried out as you squirted.

“Yessssss baby girl that’s it scream my name!” He kept pounding you. “Fuck (Y/N) I'm cummingggggg!” Moaned Gojo as he exploded inside you.

He kissed you. “Now let’s get squeaky clean.” He grabbed your soap and started washing your back, then your front while he played with your boobs making your horny all over again as he pinched your nipples.

“Sa-to-ru….” You wined.

“Hm? Am I turning you on again baby girl?”

You whimpered and nodded.

“Hehe oops.” He said not so innocently.

“You jerk.” You laughed.

He gave you a sexy smile. “I love you cupcake.”

“I love you too Satoru.”

“Yay!” He kissed you.

“You're such a goof.” You felt something floating behind you. “Hm?” You turned around and saw a little plastic container. “What’s this?” You asked picking it up.

“Open it baby girl! It’s the first of many amazing gifts for you today!”

You opened the container and pulled out a beautiful sterling silver necklace with a diamond moon on it. “S-Satoru oh my goodness is that a diamond!?” You stared at the giant diamond in awe, he nodded his head. Your (E/C) eyes grew wider as you looked at beautiful necklace. “It's gorgeous! Thank you so much!” You tackled Gojo tenderly kissing him on the lips.

“You're very welcome my love. Now let’s hurry up and get ready!” He said as he put the necklace on you.

The two of you quickly finished your bath.

“My love! I have something else for you!” Gojo said as he handed you a big box.

You opened the box and took out a beautiful red silk dress. “Satoru….. This is stunning!” The dress truly was stunning it was strapless with a sweetheart neckline, a layer of black lace in a rose pattern laid over the soft red silk. You kept looking through the box and took out the sexy lacy lingerie with matching thigh-high tights. The corset was completely see through and had ties attached for the tights, then you saw the thong. “Ohhhhh Satoru now is the lingerie for your pleasure or mine?” You laughed.

“Both! But mostly for me.” He smirked at you.

“Haha I figured as much!” You kissed him.

“Mmmmm baby girl gimme a lil show while you put that on.”

“Anything for you baby.” You winked at him as you shook your hips doing a sexy dance while you put the thong on. You twirled around and shook your ass in Gojo's face, he grabbed your ass with his giant hands clapping your cheeks together. “Mmmmm baby.” You moaned as he groped your ass before clapping your cheeks again. You twirled back around to face Gojo, smiling at him as you ran your finger along his collar bone, up his neck and under his chin as you pulled him in for a kiss. You broke the kiss to sit on the edge of the tub.

Gojo moved closer to you taking your leg in his grasp he placed sweet kisses all over as he worked his way up to your lips passionately kissing you. He broke the kiss and grabbed the tights slipping them on your legs. Then he grabbed the corset and stood you up to put it on you. He zipped the corset up, tightened the ribbons to give you that perfect hourglass silhouette lastly he fixed the tights so they wouldn’t fall. He gazed upon you completely lost for words as his jaw dropped. “God damn baby girl…. Is it bad that I don’t want to go out now? I could stay here all day just looking at you in that.” He cooed taking you in his arms.

You wrapped your arms around Gojo's neck, getting up on your tippy-toes very close to his lips. “No it’s not a bad thing at all my love but, we can have all the fun in the world later.” You tenderly kissed his lips. “Now let’s finish getting ready.

Gojo kept staring at you as you put the dress and heels on, you stood up so he could get the full view. His jaw almost fell on the ground as he gazed at you, that gorgeous dress hugging every curve perfectly and that corset making your boobs pop out of that sweetheart neckline Gojo started feeling very hot. “Nope I’m taking you again right now!” He scooped you up and brought you to the bedroom.

~ End

@mguqiis @milktaro-inc @sassyeahhhh

@ivorylyon

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cosmermaid · 3 years

Text

So the other night I figured out what drew me to Steven Universe. You see, when I was a younger teen in the early 2000s, I got really into Kirby. I started with Nightmare in Dreamland, and really got sucked into Amazing Mirror. You see, Kirby himself is really damn cute. Look at him.

When you’re a teenage weeaboo in the era of Japanese media still being relatively obscure and most “cutsey” merchandise out there coming off as childish or creepy, Kirby would suck you right in. But the games themselves have this surreal otherworldly fantasy vibe that makes sense for a setting called Dreamland. The artwork was beautiful, ethereal, and impossible.

Even now the games keep the imaginative setting that raises more questions when you pay attention to it. I could pull loads more examples but Tumblr’s photo formatting isn’t the best and honestly I would recommend just playing the games if you get the chance. Kirby is an innocent being, fighting off evil in a beautiful but dangerous world and it doesn’t quite feel like a common vibe. A lot of media especially for kids tries to come across more grounded and relatable, which is fine on it’s own but disappointed me greatly about it’s anime adaptation.

It’s an... alright slice of life and monster of the week style show I guess. But the colors were basic and didn’t have much thought, the landscapes are bland, and the main character was stripped of almost all of his own agency with other children to speak for him. It’s something that I’ve noticed that the fandom praises, since it did touch on real-world issues at the time and gave young girls somebody to relate to as well. But this could have been done while keeping the artistic spirit of the games and without reducing the main character to a literal baby.

Which brings me to why I brought up Steven Universe.

Steven is an innocent kid fighting off evil in a beautiful but dangerous world. The colors are almost always stunning, the settings imaginative, and when you pay attention, they raise even more questions as to why they are the way that they are.

This is very similar dreamlike vibe as the original games have. Steven Universe also touches on real world issues, showing you can keep artistic surrealism and fantasy elements and still do both. The show also has a young girl to act as Steven’s friend to learn about the world as he does. Connie adds to the series without stripping Steven of his agency as the Kirby anime did to make room for Fumu and her brother.

Anyways, TL;DR Steven Universe is a better cartoon adaptation of the Kirby Game series than the Kirby anime is.

#kirby #kirby games #kirby anime #steven universe #personal #non-cosmere #I'm typing up this rant while waiting for Dragon Age Inquisition to install #I want to appologize to both fanbases for coming out of my high-fantasy sword and sorcery bubble for a minute #I do like kawaii cartoons too but I tend to not focus on them as much #I should draw Mistborn Kirby sometime

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part VI

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader, Zeke Yeager x fem!reader wc: ~ 11.2k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, ass play, jealousy, possessive behavior, humiliation, manipulation, OC introduced (read A/N), non-con coming inside, fighting, miscommunication A/N: As I was writing this, I decided to bring original female characters in to play the “bad guys” because I didn’t wanna demonize the canon AoT girls. Just didn’t feel right. So, everyone, meet Rhi. Enjoy~

Mike is extremely fucking aware of you sitting a foot away from him on his couch. You're hunched over and whining about him beating you in Mario Kart again, and honestly, he doesn't know how he's doing it because he is so not focused on the game.

You came to the party in tight jeans and a sparkling top, and all Mike can think about is getting you out of them, spreading you out underneath him just like he used to.

But, he's not gonna say anything about it, not even gonna allude to it because he feels awful about pushing so hard at the Pike house. He never thought he'd be that type of guy, but he's been known to go a little off the rails when it comes to you.

"Have you ever played this with all banana peels?" Mike asks, trying to get his mind off of the heat he thinks he's radiating.

"What?"

"Like, you set it so all the items are bananas."

Your eyebrows raise. "That sounds nightmarish."

"Oh, it is," he agrees. "But you should experience the chaos at least once."

"Alright, fine. Nanner me up, then." Mike snorts as you sit back against the cushions, examining the Switch controller in your hand and mumbling, "Could they have made these any smaller? My hands are too big. How are you even playing?"

"Practice. We played a lot of Don't Drink and Drive my sophomore year."

He toggles to change the settings, and you both pick characters again. Mike selects Baby Park and grins too widely when you squeak.

"This is the worst possible—"

"It's the best possible track," he corrects you.

The next minute or so is spent with Mike swearing and you screeching, but a melody of giggles can be heard in between.

He stands up like it'll help him focus, and you follow suit, bouncing and leaning forward until Mike thinks you might lose your balance. It's the only match you actually beat him at, and you raise your arms in victory, acting like the terrible winner you are. You dance and poke him in the chest so that Mike rolls his eyes and shoves you with just enough force (so, not a lot) to make you fall back onto the couch.

"Wow, rude!" You exclaim with a little pout.

Mike stands next to you, a little too close as a retort forms on the tip of his tongue, but the angle is awkward, and he watches your eyes flit from his face to his waist (or what's a little below it) for just a split second, just long enough for him to notice, and he has to fight a smirk as you meet his eyes again.

He can imagine your cheeks are feeling pretty warm right now, but Mike doesn't say anything about it, just takes his place beside you. If he's sitting a little closer than before, neither of you mention it.

It's nearing one in the morning, and both of you are starting to feel it, eyes and hands too slow to keep playing the video game, so you switch to a movie. Mike doesn't think much of it when he lays down, legs hanging over the armrest, head in your lap. You tense for about two seconds before relaxing into the position you both know so well.

The first Jurassic Park plays from the TV, but Mike isn't paying any attention, too busy watching the way you're nibbling on your bottom lip. It's your thinking face, means you're lost in your own brain, just as far away from the film as he is.

It's stupid that you're both fighting this. Mike doesn't understand. If he wants it, and you want it, what the fuck is standing in the way? Zeke? That pretentious, clay-stained fuck? You don't even fit well together. In any way. He's too arrogant and philosophical (or so Erwin says). He probably doesn't appreciate your sense of humor (or so Mike says). And, he won't fuck you (so you say). How are you happy with him?

"Miche," your voice is quiet, but still loud enough to send a shiver down Mike's spine.

"Hm?"

"Stop staring at my mouth."

"You looked at my dick earlier."

"Shut up, no I didn't."

Mike laughs, turns his head to bury it in your stomach, and you start carding fingers through his hair. It's natural with the two of you. Nothing is forced. It took a while to get back into the groove of your friendship, but now you're here, and Mike is breathing in the smell of your perfume and fabric softener and you, and he wants so badly to just raise your shirt and plant kisses all over your soft skin.

Your body rises and falls with a deep breath. Your hand stops at the crown of his head. Then, you whisper the words he wants to hear most: "Just one more night?"

Mike sits up so fast, he nearly smacks into your chin with his forehead. He turns to face you again, eyes too round, voice too hopeful as he assures, "Just one more night."

He knows the only reason you're considering this is because Zeke has you all wound up, but that's okay. Mike will take care of you. He'll scratch that itch and then some—remind you of what you're missing.

"Alright, yeah, I—"

Mike is suddenly standing and taking your hand, leading you to his bedroom as the Jurassic Park theme plays you both out.

He knows you'll want to snoop—it's sort of your thing—but he doesn't give you time as he bends and catches you in a kiss, hands holding your face, tilting your head. He feels you curl your fingers into his shirt, using him for leverage as you balance on your tiptoes, and he lets you dance like that for a little while, desperate little ballerina as you open your mouth for him, but as soon as he feels your tongue against his, Mike lifts you clean off the ground. You wrap your legs around his waist, no need for straining muscles now as you both lick and suck and hold on to each other too tightly.

Mike paces over to the bed, nearly tripping over the shoes he left in the middle of his room earlier that day, but he’s able to drop you onto the mattress and catch himself above you before any real damage can be done.

You laugh out a, “Real smooth, Zacharias,” that he ignores in favor of taking his shirt off.

He can’t see well in the darkness which just will not do as you begin stripping, but then he remembers, “Oh,” and leans over you to plug in the string of lights he somehow managed to hang around the flag pinned above his headboard. “Ambience.”

You crane to look at them, suck your teeth, and say, “Let me guess. Erwin told you to do it.”

“How’d you know?”

Another little giggle as you tuck a few strands of hair behind his ear—“Because Erwin is the fairy lights type of motherfucker, but you…” You don’t finish that thought, just shake your head and tell him, “They’re cute. I like ‘em.”

Mike hums, “Good,” then leans down for another kiss. Several more, actually.

He’s missed this so fucking much, the way you taste on his tongue, the way you sigh into him, the way your body moves beneath his. It hurts to think this will be the last time he gets to experience it with you, but he plans to savor every second, never let himself forget and, hopefully, make sure you never forget either.

Cheesy or not, the lights cast incredible shadows on your body once it's bared to him. Your silhouette is something he could stare at for hours, days, a lifetime. If he were even slightly artistically inclined, he’d probably try to paint it, but as that’s not the case…

Starting at your jawline, Mike leaves a trail of little bites, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp. When he reaches your neck, though, he begins sucking, dragging his teeth over new-forming bruises so that you whimper and arch to press your chest to his. He moves slowly, barely even registering your breathy pleas as he holds a patch of skin captive between his incisors and laves over it.

A mark on your neck. One on the swell of your breast then on the side of the other. The space between two ribs. Just above your naval. The hollow of your hip bone. And, finally, the insides of both thighs.

Last time he did this, on the bed in your old room doused in moonlight, he wasn't trying to be possessive.

Tonight he is.

“M-Miche, please.” Your voice is catching as if you’re crying—as if Mike is torturing you. He supposes he is. You’re ready for relief, and all he’s doing is winding you tighter and tighter. It’s okay, baby, he thinks to himself, I’ll make it worth it.

Swiping his tongue between your folds, Mike groans at how wet you are. He almost feels sorry for you. Now, he’s gonna have to spend even more time drinking you in.

You throw your legs over his shoulders with no prompting, letting him sink further into you. Mike licks in long, deep strokes that make your thighs tremble and jump around his head. He sucks your clit into his mouth, slick and swollen against his tongue, and makes sure to move his face just enough to make a mess of the hair on his chin.

You’re begging again. For something. For nothing. He isn’t quite sure. But, when Mike moves to lick around your dripping hole and uses a finger to flick over your sensitive little bud, you sing for him, and he realizes just how pent up you are.

Oh, he can have fun with this.

Pausing to suck more bruises onto your thighs, Mike tries to calm himself down, find a way to ignore the throb between his legs, but that doesn’t seem likely judging by the way you just keep trying to spread yourself further and further, like it’ll get him to move faster.

He crawls back up your body, face level with yours as he teases your entrance with a finger. You let out the cutest sounds, brow furrowing like you’re focused as you shift your hips in a silent demand that Mike does not follow.

His face is slick with you, and he knows you can taste yourself as he forces you into another long kiss. You let out an honest-to-god sob when he pushes his finger inside of you, throwing your head back and clenching around him while praising, “Yes, yes, yes, fuck, tha—thank you.”

Mike pumps in and out a few times, finds your spot with ease and massages over it until he sees true tears leaking from your eyes.

Then, he pulls out, slaps a hand over your cunt, and warns, “Don’t thank me just yet.”

Your chest heaves as you stare at the ceiling seemingly in shock. Mike raises to his knees and wipes his chin on his shoulder, glances back just in time to see you sit up and attempt to tackle him back on the bed.

Mike snorts, catching you by the wrists and leaning in close. “What do you think you’re gonna do?”

Your eyes are a little wild, lips kiss-swollen, body marked to hell and back from Mike’s mouth. You just can’t get enough, shamelessly cock hungry, and god, he is so glad he's here to witness it. To be a part of it. Maybe he should send Zeke a gift basket, an edible arrangement or something. Thanks for letting me satisfy your girl since you can’t.

It takes no effort to lay you back down, just like it takes no effort to flip you over. Mike raises your hips, enjoys the view of you whining into his pillow for a second, then turns his sights to your ass. He gives it a couple spanks, biting his lip at the way it makes you clench your muscles, then spreads your cheeks and spits.

“M-Mi—”

“‘S’okay,” he tells you before letting more of his saliva drip from his mouth and land on your asshole. “Gonna feel good, I promise.”

He’s never done this with you before, not that he hasn’t wanted to, but he figures if there’s any night to go all out, it’s this one.

The first press of his tongue against your hole has you inhaling sharply, and the first press of his fingers into your pussy has you moaning low in your throat. Just like that, you relax for him. Mike works himself inside of you, opening you up until you’re nothing more than a drooling mess on his bed. You allow him to lick inside of you, to take in every exposed part of you as he rubs your g-spot over and over.

“Mm, gonna… gonna…” Your words are thick and wet. Mike isn’t even sure you realize that you’re speaking. He knows what you’re trying to say, though, so with a mischievous smile, he removes his face and hand, admiring his handiwork as you drop back to the bed and whine for him.

There’s a bottle of listerine in his nightstand, one he only planned on using when he would wake up in the early morning hours with that dead animal taste in his mouth. Turns out, it has more than one use. Mike takes a swig so that you won’t freak out if he tries to kiss you after eating your ass, swishes it around, then swallows.

“Not supposed to drink that,” you slur, already looking much too fucked-out for someone who hasn’t even taken his dick yet.

“Harmless in small doses, babe,” he tells you, recapping the bottle and tossing it back into the open drawer. “If I just chugged all of it, it’d be a different story.”

You let out a little scoff, mumble something he can’t hear, then ask a little louder, “You ready to fuck me yet?”

Mike smirks, pushes you to roll over again, then strokes a thumb over your face. “I am literally always ready to fuck you. Just trying to draw it out tonight.”

It makes you pout, but he thinks your eyes clear a little. Like you understand what he’s feeling. When you pull him down for another kiss, much softer than all of the previous, Mike smiles—another little snapshot he’d like to tuck away.

Without any warning, he pulls the pillows your head is resting on out from under you, snickering at the grunt that leaves you. He taps a hip, “Lift,” and shoves them underneath when you do. He should probably ask if you want him to wear a condom, but that’s nothing more than an afterthought as Mike begins to push into you.

“Ohh, thank god, thank god, thank god,” you pant, and Mike chuckles, dipping a hand down to gently stroke over the tissue stretching around his cock.

Every shallows thrust pushes more slick from you, and he can’t help but gather some on his finger and hold it to your mouth. You’re quick to lick it off, but instead of dropping his hand, Mike moves to press a thumb to your chin and hold your mouth open. You stick your tongue out, and he mumbles a low, “Such a slut,” before spitting on it.

As soon as you swallow Mike snaps his hips forward and starts a hard, fast rhythm. The way your face splits into a crooked grin almost has him coming on the spot, so fucking pleased with yourself, but he wants to make sure you’re seeing stars by the time he’s finished with you—wants to make sure you can’t even get out of his bed.

You're sucking in air through your teeth, little hisses that could be from either pain or pleasure, but the way you keep raising yourself off the pillows to meet Mike halfway is a pretty good indicator of which one it is.

While your voice seems muted at the time being, your sloppy little cunt is not—lewd, wet noises echoing through Mike's room as well as his head. That fucking squelch he hears every time he pushes in, the mirroring suck whenever he pulls out… You always get messy with him, or maybe he always makes a mess out of you—either way, it's one of the many things Mike adores about you. You were shy about it maybe the first two fucks but not anymore. Now, you wrap your legs around Mike and pull him closer, claw down his back and try your hardest to fuck yourself on his cock until he's laughing in your ear.

"Here, hold on."

You whimper when he pulls out, but it's only to flop down in his back and let you climb on top. He expects some kind of break, a single second to breathe, but you just sink down on his length and let your head hang back.

"Mmygod," you moan, taking him in as far as you can then rocking back and forth.

Mike can feel your thighs break out in goosebumps, traces a finger over your arm to find the same effect and hums. Bracing yourself on his chest, you plant your feet on the mattress and bounce like your life depends on it, that drunken smile back in place as Mike coos, "That's it, baby, take what you need."

He reaches up to grope your tits, cupping both of them, brushing calloused palms over each nipple. It makes you arch your back and gasp, but the rhythm of your hips doesn't stop. Mike can feel the way your pussy is drooling on him, slick little rivers that add to that filthy, beautiful symphony. He wants to hear it every night on repeat. Most played song of—

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," you whine, and Mike reaches between your spread legs to press a thumb against your clit, fingertips digging into the meat of your thigh as he rubs in tiny circles.

You sit and take it for several seconds before your eyes find his, widen, then roll as you start to come.

Mike takes over, lifting and lowering you on his cock as you twitch and cry for him. You're so pretty like this, hair out of place, damp with sweat and tears, thighs painted with your own orgasm. He doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want this to be the last time.

With your pussy still spasming around him, Mike switches positions again, lays you down like before and situates his head between your legs to idly lick everything that's dripped out of you. Your legs are shaking, kitten-like mewls meeting his ears. You jump whenever he runs his tongue over your clit, but you never move to stop him or swat him away.

Mike waits for you to go boneless before scooping you up and sitting on the edge of the bed. You're clumsy and slow as you straddle his lap, letting him slip inside you once more, but it's nowhere near as frantic as before.

He guides with gentle hands under your thighs, coaxes you to uncurl them from underneath you and wrap around his waist instead. Chest to chest, you rise and fall together. Mike breathes heavily into your neck as he hits that unforgiving wall inside of you. It makes you wince, but you don't shy away from him.

He's careful after that, makes sure everything he does is slow, tender, and when he sees fresh tears shining in your eyelashes, he knows it isn't from anything he's doing to you.

Mike is able to suck a few more bruises onto your neck and shoulders before he feels you nose at his cheek. Your kiss is dream-like, deep and relaxed but so full, and Mike knows he would be able to just do that all night if his orgasm wasn't about to run into him like a train.

He breaks away, looks to the ceiling only to have little fingers curl around his jaw and bring him back. You watch him with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip sucked between your teeth, and that expression—that need to see—it makes the cord in Mike's gut snap. He sees a vague twinkle in your gaze as his jaw drops then blackness as his eyes are suddenly facing the back of his god damn skull.

Every line of cum he shoots inside you has him groaning, his fingers digging into the swell of your ass as he fills you up. You purposely squeeze him, clenching on his cock to milk him of everything he has until Mike is shuddering and whispering, "Okay, okay, okay."

"Okay?" You question then squeeze him again, giggling when he grunts and twitches.

Lying back on the bed, Mike lets you pull your legs out from under him, but you remain straddling his waist as you lean forward to lay on his chest. It’s quiet for a long time. A different Jurassic Park movie is playing now, the music too intense for the deep, even breaths you’re taking, for the way you’re lightly tapping Mike’s shoulder in time with his heartbeat.

His head is beginning to clear again, the lust and excitement ebbing away into those reflective thoughts that always seem to hit him after a mindblowing orgasm. It’s mostly questions: Why are you doing this? Why is he doing this? Why can’t you keep doing this? Why didn’t you pick him? Why don’t you want—

“Okay, I gotta get up,” you grumble. “I can actually feel your cum dripping out of me.”

Mike snorts, looking over his nose at you. “Never complained about it before.”

You push yourself off of him, both of you hissing at the sensation, then Mike watches you stand and glance around, probably trying to figure out which door is for the closet and which is for the bathroom.

“It’s the one on the left,” he grunts, staring at your ass a little too long and suppressing a groan when he catches sight of white fluid streaming down your thighs. “God dammit.”

The toilet flushes, the shower starts, and Mike is left to wonder if you need the alone time or if he should treat this like any other time and join you. Are you in there trying to wash him off of you or—

“You comin’?” You peak out from the door, wet hair dripping, tired smile in place.

“Just did,” he shoots back while sitting up. Like every other time. Just keep it casual.

The water is hot, but you’re even hotter as you lather your hair in shampoo and soap up your body. Since he’s back to pretending like this is nothing more than your old routine, Mike has no problem pressing himself against you from behind, running his hands up your sides, “helping” in the bathing process by squeezing your tits, feeling the suds get caught in the webs of his fingers.

“You’re playing with fire, Zacharias,” you tell him, and he can see your lips pulling into a smirk. “You need to stop unless you wanna go for round two.”

He nips at your earlobe, uncaring of the soap that gets in his mouth. “Or three, or four.”

You laugh and turn to face him, but your eyes are shut as you rinse your hair. It gives Mike time to admire all the marks he’s left on you—too many, probably—and he doubts you’ll be very happy with him once you notice, but fuck, you’re so pretty covered in him.

The shower ends. Mike expects you to ask for a ride back to the dorms (that he doesn’t understand why you’re still living in), but it turns out you’re not all talk. After sitting on the couch for only a few minutes, trying to make sense of the dinosaur movie you’ve walked in on halfway, you’re crawling into his lap again, teeth dragging over his neck this time as your hand trails down his torso to rub over his rapidly growing cock.

“Oh, shit, I didn’t actually think you were serious,” he chuckles through a kiss.

You grind down on him, bite his lower lip, then remind him, “I told you I was frustrated.”

He smirks, gives your hair a little tug that makes you moan, then makes sure his words just ghost over your mouth when he teases, “Like a bitch in heat.”

This time he takes you over the armrest of the couch, leaves you swollen and dripping his cum again.

Another shower, the steam on top of such vigorous activity has both of you deliriously tired, and Mike is honest when he tells you, “I really shouldn’t drive now. I’m about to pass out.”

“You and me both.”

So, you slip into one of his shirts and crawl into bed with him, but neither of you get more than a couple hours of sleep before the morning sun is shining in through the window. Mike’s grumpy groan very quickly turns to one of interest when he feels you push your ass against his morning wood, and then you’re at it again. He’s never fucked this much in such a short amount of time, and he can’t imagine doing it every day or even every other day. In fact, he thinks he might be a little burnt out for a bit. Unless it’s with you, of course. He’ll always make an exception if it’s you moaning his name and hiking a leg over his hip and milking him dry. He guesses if this is the last time he gets to do this for the foreseeable future, he’s at least made it worth it.

Back in your little party outfit, you step up into Mike’s Jeep and almost doze off in the short time it takes to get to student housing, but you’re roused when he pulls into the parking lot and steps on the breaks just a little too hard.

Mike snickers when you jolt forward and grunt, cutting your eyes at him and muttering, “Fucker,” before undoing your seatbelt and leaning over to pull him into another kiss. He cradles the back of your head, holds you there for too long as he tries to make you feel everything he’s feeling through tangled tongues, little nips, and the string of spit that stretches between two bottom lips.

He thinks he’s been good at hiding it, but now as you’re about to slip out and away, those words are lodged in Mike’s throat again, and no amount of swallowing will get rid of them. He takes a deep breath and forces one of those horribly insincere smiles, and you can tell because the look you give him is thoughtful and sorry, and your voice comes out as a whisper when you say his name, “Miche.”

“Hm?”

“Uh… Thanks.”

He lets out a humorless laugh and asks, “For last night? This morning?”

“For everything. I mean, last night and this morning were incredible, like… Incredible. But, it’s more than that. For helping me with everything you have in the last year or so.”

Mike’s heart drops into his stomach, and he sits back in his seat as his mind starts racing because this doesn’t sound like gratitude; this sounds like goodbye.

But, why? He’ll see you on campus in a day or so, at the PKA parties you end up going to. You probably won’t be able to attend a ton of his games, but that’s fine. He understands. Are you just being dramatic—sad that you won’t be able to fuck him anymore?

He can’t ask any of this, settles with a half-hearted, “Yeah, no problem,” as he fights the confused frown that’s slowly taking over his face.

“I’ll see you around,” you tell him.

Mike nods and watches as you slide out and start walking to the bland building. He doesn’t like how that just ended. It doesn’t sit right in his head or his gut. It could be that you’re already regretting it. It could be that you're fearful of the consequences. It could be that you think this might be the final straw in your friendship. You’d be wrong on that one, though. Mike is willing to let you get away with a lot—too much—before he runs. You can use him in whatever way you need, and he’ll keep coming back. He just can’t help it.

That had been a bad idea. A really, really fucking bad idea. The ache in you has been completely satiated, and you loved being able to hang out (and fuck) Mike—wouldn’t really trade it—but as you walk up the stairs to Zeke’s apartment sore as all get out and see his face when he swings the door open, it really hits you—

That had been a terrible idea.

“Why the fuck did Eren say he saw you leave the party with Zacharias?”

“Alright, I’m just gonna turn around,” you say, pivoting back toward the staircase because you really don’t like the way Zeke’s tone is tying your stomach in knots and making your neck prickle. You haven’t ever been one to be scared of men, but in this moment, you would much prefer to not be anywhere near him.

“No, no, let’s talk about this,” he says with a suck of his teeth.

His grip on your arm is just shy of painful, and you take note of the way he forcefully guides you into the apartment rather than tugs you.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, setting your purse down on the counter as you follow him over to the couch. Zeke sits down at the other end facing you, as always, blue eyes narrow behind his glasses. “So, is it true?”

“Yeah,” you admit before diving headfirst into a lie, “It was just to play videogames, though. Neither of us were diggin’ the party, so—”

“That so?”

You nod. “We used to all the time.”

“And, what else did the two of you used to do?” He mocks, and you keep your mouth shut, bottom jaw sliding as your lower lip starts to quiver. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Thank whatever you want, Zeke. I was just hanging out with my best friend, okay?”

“Your best friend?” He snaps. “Tell me, sweetheart, just why might you be covered up head to fucking toe, hm?”

You cringe inwardly, taken back to the debate you’d had with yourself in front of the mirror. Your normal casual wear would show off some of the bruises Mike had littered you with—cold spoons can only do so much—but getting buttoned up would be suspicious. You had opted for the latter, hoping it would escape Zeke’s notice, but of course it didn’t.

Now, you’re sweating in your jeans and a fucking turtleneck you’ve never even worn before, and Jesus Christ, you just want to leave. Zeke is hot, but not hot enough to put up with this kind of bullshit.

“Don’t have a comeback for that one, do ya’?”

Mental note: kick Eren’s ass next time you see him. You knew that kid rubbed you the wrong way for a reason.

You don’t know who to be more upset with, the little brother or yourself. You could be irritated at Mike if you really wanted to—he hadn’t been subtle about wanting you last night, but then again, you hadn’t really expected him to, and you can’t find it in yourself to fault him for his feelings. There’s no way you could actually be mad at him.

This is your fault. You need to deal with the consequences without bringing anyone else into it.

“What d’you want me to say, Zeke? What’s the right answer here?” You ask exasperatedly.

“The fucking truth!”

“We hooked up, alright? I fucked him! ‘Cause you don’t wanna fuck me, which would be fine if you’d just tell me why, but you won’t!” You’re starting to breathe a little heavy, voice rising as you continue, “I feel like you’re just waiting to see how long it’ll take for me to lose it, and apparently it was last night, and you know what?” You grin at him, nerves on fire the more you let every frustration fly from your mouth. “It was awesome. It was so fucking good, you don’t even understand.”

Zeke’s eyebrows are high as he lets your little rant die off, obviously annoyed when he asks, “You finished?”

“I think I am,” you laugh.

“Fantastic. Take your shirt off.”

You choke on your tongue. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Take. Your shirt. Off.”

“No!"

“You just said you wanted me to fuck you, so—”

“Not right fucking now!” Even if you wanted him to, you wouldn’t be able to take him. You don’t think you’ve ever been so sore after having sex, but that could also have something to do with the multiple rounds of being impaled on Mike’s horse cock. God, you already miss it.

“Swear to god, if you don’t take it off right now—”

“You’ll do what? What’ll you do, Zeke?”

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he lunges at you, one foot planted on the ground as his other knee digs into the couch in a way that cages you in. His nails scratch against your skin as he pulls roughly at the material, and you hear the sound of threads splitting as you grunt and squirm and try to keep the terror rising in your chest at bay because this is not happening. This is not happening.

Zeke manages to rip the turtleneck off of you, and you shiver on the cushions as his eyes trace over every inch of you he can see, icy blue somehow becoming colder and colder.

“One,” he growls, shoving a finger into your neck. It smarts the way every bruise does, and you bat his hand away only for him to move it to the skin just beneath your collarbone. “Two.” He shoves your bra up to find hickeys three and four, making you wince as he digs a fingertip into both. “Five,” your ribs. “Six,” your stomach. “Seven,” your hip.

Your face is incredibly warm, tears stuck at your waterline as humiliation washes over you in waves. And naturally, it just gets worse.

“Are you gonna take your pants off, or will I have to?”

You aren’t breathing deep enough anymore, and you can feel a burning in your lungs as a result. When you don’t answer quick enough, Zeke threatens, “I’ll rip them if I have to.”

“They’re denim,” you snark, but that last piece of attitude is stomped out when he unbuttons and unzips your pants and tugs each corner, effectively tearing past the zipper.

You let out something frighteningly close to a whimper as he pulls them off, then sits between your legs and starts counting the marks dotted along your thighs.

“I’ve gotta hand it to him—Zacharias is a pretty thorough guy.” He pinches you a couple times, chuckling at the way you jump and hiss. “Did you like it when he was treating you like a fucking fire hydrant? Marking his territory like a dog?”

“Shut up,” you grit, sitting up only to get shoved back down by a hand that curls around your throat.

You stare at Zeke with huge eyes, finally letting that fear bloom inside you—what is he about to do? What is he about to do?—and as he leans over you, tears start streaming down the sides of your face.

He lets out a condescending little, "Oh," then lowers his face to run his lips over your temple and whispers, "Don't be scared. It's okay."

A gentle kiss, and then he pushes himself up, stands, then disappears into his room. You stay on the couch, trying to catch the breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Shivering as you sit up, you reach for your close only to find them ruined.

Zeke must have known that the moment he ripped them off of you (honestly, you should have known too) because when he returns, he tosses a ball of material at you—an old t-shirt and pajama pants.

"I'm gonna throw a pizza in the oven. That okay with you?"

You blink at him, unable to respond as he glances over his shoulder and makes a face like he's annoyed.

"What, are you stupid on top of slutty now? I asked if that was okay with you."

"I—Ye—I need to leave," you mumble, quickly slipping the clothes on and standing. "I'm gonna leave."

"How about you just chill and watch a movie instead?"

"Why would I want to—"

The look Zeke gives you is chilling, mouth downturned, one eyebrow raised. It's a challenge, one you don't have the energy or fight to rise to, so you drop back onto the cushions and sigh.

It’s fine. You’re fine. He didn’t go nearly as far as you thought he was about to—just got upset. He had a reason to, right? There were better ways to handle it, a fucking conversation for example, but at least now he’s giving you a little space, cooling down in the kitchen while you gather your thoughts. You could go without the name-calling, though.

He just lost his temper, wanted to remind you that it’s him you’re with. You have been for a few months now. And, until now, Zeke has been a nice albeit slightly arrogant guy. He’s personable, he’s smart, he’s funny. Most importantly, he’s level-headed. You probably just pushed him a little too far. It could have been worse. It could be worse.

You play it over and over in your head as Zeke hands you a plate with a slice of pizza on it. You play it when he sits down and throws an arm around you. Then, you play it when he walks you to your car that evening and kisses you like nothing ever happened.

Could be worse. Could be worse.

Mike curls his tongue over his bottom lip and squints at the array of cups on the table across from him, picking one out before tossing the ping pong ball with a flick of his wrist.

It bounces off one of the cups' rims, and Nile easily snatches it up and smirks at him.

"Dude," Erwin starts, frowning when Mike turns to him. "Why do you suck so much tonight?"

Mike rolls his eyes. "Man, fuck off."

"No, I'm serious. What's up with you?"

"Nothin'. Just having an off night."

"More like off week," Erwin scoffs. "Month."

Gelgar sinks his ball into the middle cup, and Mike quickly reaches forward to grab it, extracting the plastic before downing the beer.

Erwin is right, but Mike refuses to tell him that. He's been off since the last party a couple weeks ago, the last time he saw you—last time he touched you. He's spotted you around campus several times since, but you're always hanging off Zeke's arm, and Mike isn't about to pry you off him (despite how much he wants to).

Honestly, he's a little surprised at how close you still are with him, how unaffected your relationship is by the hookup. Maybe Zeke just never found out. Mike has tried to ask you about it, sent more than one text, but they've gone unanswered which is a concern all on its own. Two weeks without talking at all. Mike feels like he's going insane.

Could it be that you're mad at him, upset that you gave into temptation and you're blaming Mike instead of yourself? He understands the need to scratch that itch, but if you really hadn't wanted to fuck, you could have just said so.

Mid-terms are next week, so Mike figures if you still haven't talked to him by then, it's definitely time to worry about the state of the friendship. He's trying not to get himself worked up, but honestly, just the thought of you being upset with him is enough to make his stomach roll. He just needs one text. One everything's fine. That shouldn't be too hard for you, right?

Mike misses another shot and swears to himself, sticking a middle finger up at Erwin when he throws his arms out.

"It's just beer pong, bro. Calm down."

The party is like every other—loud music, rowdy college kids, too many girls Mike doesn't care about making eyes at him from across the room. He really just wants to go home, but he can't help but stay in hopes that you might show up. It's highly unlikely, but that slim chance keeps him rooted to the spot, missing cups left and right until Nile and Gelgar win.

Erwin is not happy as he drinks his share of the remaining beer. Once he finishes the last, he tells Mike, "You owe me for that pathetic fucking display. Tell me what's going on."

Mike comes close to just turning his back and walking away, but he can see that even through his irritation, Erwin is worried for him.

Running a hand through his hair, Mike just asks if Erwin has heard from you at all recently. "I just can't get ahold of her, and I can't tell if it's 'cause she's busy or ignoring me or what."

Erwin's thick eyebrows knit together as he shakes his head. "No, I haven't talked to her in a while. Did something happen between the two of you?"

"I mean, we hooked up at the last party—"

"Oh, that ended up happening?" Erwin asks, surprised.

Even after making up last semester, Mike has tried to keep the details of his sex life with you to himself and away from Erwin specifically. After the shit he pulled that drove the rift between them in the first place, Mike isn't willing to be quite as open about you as he previously was, but he did have to break that code at the last party when he was convinced you would end up fucking. Buzzed and excited while still at the house, Mike had asked Erwin if he'd be cool with the two of you using his room (with the promise of cleaning up, of course), before you ended up just retreating to the quietness of Mike's apartment instead.

So, Erwin knew the potential that evening had, but Mike never followed up with him until now.

"Yeah, it did."

"Well, what did Zeke think of it?"

Mike shrugs his shoulders. "Dunno. She hasn't talked to me since then."

"Shit." Erwin looks genuinely taken aback. "It's been that long?"

"Yeah. I'm trying not to freak out, but like—"

"No, I get you. If I end up hearing from her before you do, I'll let you know."

Mike nods, "Thanks, bro," and forces a smile when Erwin claps him on the back, then breaks away from his friend to mope around somewhere else.

What if something happened? What if Zeke had found out and lost his temper with you? Mike will murder him if he finds out that four-eyed fuck put his hands on you. Gruesomely murder.

If he could take back what you both shared that night, he would. Things seemed to be getting somewhat back to normal between you—talking and making dumb jokes, like you were actually comfortable around him despite your boyfriend. If Mike had known one last night would fuck that progress up, he wouldn't have ever brought it up.

Then again, you had told him. I don't wanna fuck things up with Zeke. And, he had still pushed, tried to get you to give in, and god, that's embarrassing. Mike is glad you called him out on his shit, but looking back on it still makes his face heat. That was fucked up. He fucked up.

"It's Mike, right?"

Mike's eyes snap downward, caught off guard by the girl suddenly standing in front of him, dainty fingers with painted nails clutched around a beer bottle. It's the same kind you would drink only to end up giving it to Mike.

"Uh, yeah, that's me."

The girl smiles at him. He's seen her around the college, events shared between both frats and sororities, and the more Mike looks at her face, the more he recognizes her as one of the chicks who used to hang around the baseball team a lot. In fact, he's pretty sure she's—

"I'm Rhi. You played really well yesterday. I was watching you."

"Thanks."

She bats her eyelashes at him as she returns, "You're welcome," then clicks her tongue and asks, "So, who ya' lookin' for?" in a sing-song voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've been scanning this room for the last, like, fifteen minutes. Looking like you're playing Where's Waldo or something."

Mike snorts, flipping hair from his face as he lies, "No one in particular."

He recognizes the look of satisfaction that blooms on Rhi's face, has seen it many times before on many different girls. It makes him sigh inwardly because he really could not be any less interested.

"That's good." Rhi's wide grin shrinks into a smirk before she adds, "I was hoping you'd say that."

Mike feels his mouth tug up on one side in what he's pretty sure comes off as a sad little smile.

Fuck it, though. At least she's pretty.

Things don't change all that much between you and Zeke. After spending a day or two rationalizing, you're able to look at him and smile again, to laugh at his jokes and listen to his tangents. He's back to playing with your fingers on the table while you sit face to face for lunch, back to shoving his hand in your back pocket while you walk around campus. It's like nothing ever happened.

If anything, you start spending even more time with him. He walks with you to and from class whenever he can, tells you to come watch his practices because the teammates he's closest with—his best friends—want to get to know you better. It's all normal, and you get used to the slight change in routine without a problem. You like the Galliard brothers, Marcel who plays shortstop and Porco, the catcher, so it isn't a chore to hang out with them after games and practice.

What is a chore is watching Zeke talk with his bubbly ex as he walks with her to the science building you're waiting at. Leaning against the brick wall under an awning, you squint as they approach. Rhi is looking at him with those huge, entranced eyes you know too well, a little too much pep in her step making her tits bounce in a way that's fucking impossible to ignore.

You shouldn't be territorial. If anything, you should probably still be mad for the stunt he had pulled with you, but… if he gets to be possessive, so do you. It only makes sense.

'Cause that's how healthy relationships work, you think with a snort, pushing yourself off the wall when they both stop in front of you.

"Babe, you remember Rhi," Zeke reintroduces her like you haven't been at least a little wary of her for the last couple months.

"Yeah," you nod, forcing a smile. "How are you?"

"I'm great!" She grins, looking at Zeke for one reason or another, like he needs to approve her answer, which is fucking dumb, but you also kind of understand because that's just the effect he has on people.

"Glad to hear it." You turn your attention to your boyfriend, content to ignore her from here on out, and ask, "Did you wanna grab something to eat before practice?"

“Yeah,” he nods before glancing at Rhi and offering a, “Catch you later,” that sounds too promising for your liking.

You don’t glare at the other girl as the two of you leave, but you definitely do not smile, and as Zeke drives you both to your favorite cafe, you whine to Hitch through texts.

i wouldn’t be too worried about it, she tells you. she’s in my psych class and she’s kinda dumb. i doubt zeke wants to put up with that again. probs why he dumped her in the first place

You try to appear unbothered through lunch, but you’ve had a pretty shitty day so far—woke up late, probably failed a quiz, got no response from Mike despite texting him three times in rapid succession, and then you had to witness that doe-eyed little brat blatantly pine for—

“You know, you don’t have any right to be jealous, right?” Zeke asks after swallowing a bite of salad.

You blink at him, having to process for a second before you understand what he’s saying. And, why he’s saying it. How can he just read your mind like that? You don’t think you’ll ever understand.

“‘M not jealous,” you mumble, stirring soup you really have no intention of eating.

Zeke smirks across from you. “No?”

“I’m just having a bad day. Don’t make assumptions just ‘cause I didn’t smile at your little ex.”

His expression of self-satisfaction falls into a frown, and he asks what’s going on. When you tell him, you purposely leave out the detail about Mike ignoring you because it would only further Zeke’s point about you having no right to get possessive especially considering how fucking upset you are about the matter. Why the fuck isn’t he talking to you?

“Want me to help take the edge off?” Zeke asks when you finish venting.

You look at him with one raised eyebrow, tempted to reply with a smart-aleck ‘only if you plan on seeing it through’, but that sounds like too much of an ultimatum, too manipulative. You’ve made it this long without being a shady bitch, and you have no intention of becoming one.

He can see the gears turning in your head, leans forward and grabs your hand before urging, “Come over. Skip your evening class, and we can just… Relax.”

You snort when he wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, possibly the first time you’ve smiled today. “I really shouldn’t skip. We’re reviewing for our exam next week.”

“All the more reason to. You’re not getting any new information. You can just go back over it on your own.”

He has a point. You have all the notes and PowerPoints, and the idea of just lounging and fucking is very tempting since the last time you had sex was the night with Mike.

And, just like that, your stomach is in knots again. Why won’t he just text back?

Sighing, you come to the conclusion that a distraction is exactly what you need.

“Yeah, okay. That sounds nice.”

“Oh, I’ll make sure it’s more than nice.”

Zeke finishes his meal then asks for a to-go bowl for yours, and after about fifteen minutes, you’re in his apartment.

“Let’s watch something while my food settles, and then we can you know…”

“You know,” you mimic, putting the leftovers up in the fridge then joining him on the couch.

He turns on some underground horror movie that doesn’t exactly set the mood, but you power through about half of it before all but throwing yourself at Zeke as soon as he pats his lap.

Chuckling, he helps take your shirt off, kisses your collarbone and murmurs, “Damn, should we just move straight to the bedroom?”

“I literally could not give less of a fuck. Whatever you wanna do.”

He grips your thighs and stands, making you hold onto his shoulders for dear life as he walks into the back and drops you on his bed. You immediately kick your pants off, a constant stream of ‘yes yes yes’ running through your mind. You need this. God, you need this.

But, when Zeke curls over you, he doesn’t feel broad enough, and when he kisses you, his beard is too thick, and when he trails his hands down your body, they’re barely calloused.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to turn your brain off—please, just turn off—because you should only be thinking of Zeke.

Zeke who circles your nipple with his tongue, who brushes fingers over your bare pussy and groans at how the sensation makes you arch into his mouth.

“Can’t wait to stuff this pretty cunt,” he breathes before grazing his teeth over pebbled flesh.

His voice isn’t deep enough. His blue eyes have a different shine from the green you're so used to.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, just let him—

Shimmying down your body, Zeke spreads you open and pushes spit from his mouth to land on your clit and drip downward. It makes you gasp, and you feel that familiar throb of arousal that grows when he starts rubbing soft circles over the sensitive bundle.

“Oh, shit,” you huff.

Heat pools between your legs as he continues the motion, only stopping to replace his finger with his mouth.

You let out a high-pitched moan, thinking to yourself, what about pillows? You can get a better angle with pillows. It doesn’t matter in the long run as he drags his tongue over your entrance, dipping inside for just a second before going back to swirling the muscle around your clit.

A finger is pushed into you a little too roughly. It’s not quite long enough, not quite thick enough, but it still feels good, especially once Zeke finds your g-spot and massages it until you’re whimpering and begging for more.

“You think you’re ready, sweetheart?” He speaks into your thigh, a thigh that was once littered with dark bruises from another mouth.

“Yes,” you pant. “Yes, please, please, Zeke.” Even his name feels foreign falling from your lips despite having said it hundreds of times.

You don’t understand why your mind is sabotaging you like this. You’ve been desperate for Zeke for months now, so why is it that you’re finally getting what you want but can only think about Mike? What is wrong with you?

He scissors two fingers inside of you, making sure you’re nice and stretched, and you want to tell him to hurry up, that you’ve taken someone substantially longer and thicker, because yeah, Zeke has a nice cock, big enough to be satisfying, flushed pink at the tip and dripping, but it’s doubtful that he’s gonna hurt you.

He has a lovely upward curve that drags over your spot as he slides into you, and it makes you groan, eyebrows knitting together as Zeke swears.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he breathes, giving a few experimental thrusts.

You can take him without issue, wet and stretched, and god yes, finally. Finally. His pace quickens, coarse hairs on his pelvis rubbing against your clit and causing your eyes to roll back. Locking your ankles around his waist, you grin at the new angle, and Zeke huffs out an appreciative, “So fucking sexy when you smile for me, baby.” You stick your tongue between your teeth, something between a moan and a laugh leaving your throat, and he coos another, “Feel good?”

“Ye-es.”

Your mind is finally cleared—for a few minutes, at least—until Zeke pulls out and tells you to turn over. “Hands and knees.”

You comply, and when Zeke spreads your cheeks and shoves his cock back into your wet pussy, the memory of Mike’s tongue on your asshole flashes through your brain.

“Jesus Christ,” you whine.

Zeke’s balls slap your clit with every snap of his hips, the sound of skin on skin ringing through the room. It’s so fucking lewd, the sweat breaking out on both of you only making the noises more obscene. The fingers of one hand are gripping you tightly while Zeke brings his other down on your ass with a little too much force. The burning that follows feels good, makes you hiss and push back against him.

Pulling out so that only his cockhead is inside you, Zeke stills to focus solely on spanking you, alternating between cheeks as heat radiates from them. You cry and keep moving to the best of your ability, fucking yourself on his length as you get lost in sensation.

You lose track of time. Zeke switches between abusing your ass and leaning over you to grope your tits. No matter what he’s doing, you’re moaning, and eventually your own hand travels between your legs to play with your clit, the pressure in your gut becoming too much. You need to come, need that release, and when your back arches and your muscles tense, Zeke growls against your spine, “Fuck yes, come on my cock—just wanna feel you—”

He lets out a little, “Ha,” when you pulse around him, gushing slick and leaving you overstimulated as he continues to fuck into you harshly.

Your arms give out, elbows buckling and sending you falling face first into the pillow. Every noise you make grows in volume but remains muffled. Zeke is relentless in his strokes, but he thankfully doesn’t last much longer, droplets of sweat landing on your back as he curls over you once again, breathing heavily into your ear, “Can I come inside? Lemme come inside you.”

Before you can realize what you’re doing, you shake your head, turning your cheek to the cushion and panting, “No, don’t.”

It shouldn’t matter. You’re protected, and you’ve done it before, but…

You only want to do that for one person. You don’t want to let anyone else.

“Don’t, Zeke, I—”

“Did you let him come in you?” He suddenly asks. “Did you let him fill you with cum?”

He reaches around you to pinch your clit, and you squeal and squirm, trying to get him to drop his hand, but he doesn’t, just holds it with two fingers and taps the swollen bud without mercy.

“Did you?”

“No!” You lie, voice rising. “Fuck, I didn’t let him!”

Zeke scoffs. “I don’t believe you,” pinching hard enough to make tears spring up in your eyes before letting go. He returns to your hips, blunt fingernails digging into your skin as he gives a few more thrusts and groans, spilling into you then moving you back and forth on his cock, watching his own cum get pushed further into your hole and coat the entirety of his length.

“God dammit, what the fuck, Zeke?” You speak through gritted teeth, shoving back against him suddenly and with enough force to make him lose his balance and fall backward. You can feel thick fluid dripping down your thighs and turn to glare at him only to find him smirking at you.

The space behind your eyes grows hot with tears you refuse to shed in front of him. Instead, you get up and walk to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it before sitting down on the toilet with your head in your hands.

You shouldn’t be as upset as you are, generally like the feeling of guys releasing inside of you. It’s just hot. But, you had not wanted it this time. You weren’t ready for it, and now you can’t help but feel… tainted.

You pee then hop into the shower to rinse off, to cleanse yourself and calm down, and once the hot water has drained you of most of your anger, you slip into one of Zeke’s t-shirts and go back outside. He’s in sweatpants, sipping on water as he stares at the TV.

“Feel better?” He questions without actually looking at you.

You’re free to roll your eyes, but you think you sound convincing when you answer, “Yeah, a lot.”

He hums. “Didn’t seem like it.”

“I mean,” you sigh and move to sit down next to him, one leg tucked under you as you think about how you want to word what’s on your mind. “When I ask you not to do something, I, you know, want you to actually listen."

Now, he turns to look at you wearing an expression frighteningly similar to the one he'd worn the day he humiliated you on the very couch you're sitting in.

"Oh, so you want me to respect your wishes." He doesn't sound at all sympathetic. "Kind of like I wanted you to respect mine before you went and fucked Zacharias."

"Alright," you drawl. "We're back to this again. Awesome."

He didn't ever explicitly ask you not to sleep with anyone else. At that point, you don't know if Zeke even saw you as a legitimate girlfriend. And, you understand why he's annoyed by your actions, but you're getting extremely fucking tired of him dangling it over your head.

"Uh, yeah, we are."

Taking a deep breath, you try to keep a level head, to appear collected when you tell him, "Look, I see your frustration. I get it. But, me sleeping with Mike is a little different than—"

"How?" Zeke cuts you off. "How is it different?"

"Because what you did in there was against my fucking will. I told you not to come inside me, and you still did."

Zeke is on his feet in an instant. "Is that a fucking accusation?"

"No, no," you hold your hands up in defense as you peer up at him. "I'm not trying to say that everything that happened in there was non-consensual—"

"Sounds a lot like you are."

You're starting to panic. You don't like how hostile he's getting when he isn't even trying to understand you.

"You're trying to fill in blanks that aren't there, Zeke. I'm not trying to accuse you or get you in trouble or anything. I'm trying to explain how fucked up—how scary—it is for someone to ignore your boundaries in the bedroom."

He makes a little, "Tch," then mutters, "You're blowing it out of proportion."

It's about the worst thing he could say to you. Firstly, he's the one getting offended by the situation, and secondly, it completely invalidates you.

"You're the one who was so desperate for sex you went and fucked someone else," he adds.

You massage your temples, figure you need to remove yourself before saying something you can't take back.

Your phone is still on the armrest where you left it before going to the back, and it lights up with a text—Hitch—and displays the time. It's only five. If you wanted, you could still make it to your six o'clock class.

"You know what, I'm gonna put a pin in this so we can both simmer down. We can revisit it later."

Zeke doesn't seem to like that solution, or lack thereof. You grab your shirt off the floor then pad back to the bedroom to change into the clothes you picked out for the day, texting Hitch back while you're hidden.

She had asked what you were up to, and you reply with, at Zeke's. Could you by any chance pick me up? I didn't drive and we just got into a spat.

on my way 😘

You waste a little time before deciding to brave your boyfriend again, simply telling him that you're just gonna go to class and that Hitch is coming to get you.

"Fine," he dismisses.

You think about giving him a little peck but decide against it, opting to just grab your backpack and slip on your shoes.

"I'll text you," you tell him.

He replies with a short, "Sure," and you take that as your cue to leave.

It doesn't take long for Hitch to get there and takes even less time for her to ask what happened.

At last, you give her the full scoop (barring Zeke's meltdown after originally finding out you slept with Mike). She frowns almost the whole way through, and you expect her to either soothe you or tell you that he's being an asshole, but instead, she clicks her tongue and mutters, "I don't get why you aren't just dating Mike. Like, yeah, Zeke's hot and all, but you and Mike have always had a thing. And, you both obviously like each other so whyyy," she ends in a frustrated whine.

"Because Mike and I…" You trail off. You don't really know, honestly, not for a few seconds at least, and when it hits you, it isn't some big epiphany. It's more like a natural thought. "Because Mike is long-term. If we got together it would be, like, the real deal. And, I don't think either of us are ready for that."

It feels good to admit both to Hitch and to yourself. You never thought about it in depth before, mostly because while you've known about his feelings for you for a good while, you haven't fully accepted your own.

But, if the hurt you're feeling at him not texting you back is anything to go on (not to mention how much you thought of him while fucking Zeke), your fondness for him has probably turned into something more, something deeper.

"I don't understand what's so bad about the real deal, but whatever. You guys will sort it out in your own time."

"I don't know about that," you mumble. "He hasn't talked to me since that morning. Just won't reply to any of my texts or calls."

"That's weird," Hitch thinks out loud as she pulls into the parking lot. "If anything, I thought he'd be fighting even harder now."

"Yeah, well, that is clearly not the case." You grab your bag out of the backseat, guessing, "He must be mad at me or something."

"Maybe. Maybe he's just trying to give you space."

Shrugging, you get out of the car, forcing a smile as you thank your friend for the ride.

"Any time. One more thing, though," Hitch stops you." You tilt your head in curiosity as her face grows uncharacteristically serious. "Next time Zeke uses that against you, tell him to fuck off. And, consider dumping him."

"I mean, I did fuck up by sleeping with Mike."

"Yeah, but you and Zeke aren't gonna work if he keeps holding that over you. Something like that isn't supposed to be leverage. If he can't handle it, he needs to leave."

It's rare that Hitch loses her happy go lucky attitude, so seeing her like this is a little jarring.

"I'll take it into consideration."

As you walk into the dorms, you pout about how your shitty day only got shittier. All you want to do is talk to your best friend, but that's obviously not gonna happen.

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#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #tw noncon #tw manipulation #and just to be safe #tw abuse

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