#so idk somewhere between five and ten? eight? six? no idea.

[alphabetboyluvr]

throttle │ jjk - two

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - just a littleeee (read: mostly) smut... fingering, titty sucking (his fave <3), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (female), creampie, post-creampie-pussy-eating, cum swapping, a little spitting i guess, titty worship, ?? more, maybe ??, idk, you get the idea. oh, and also dangerous driving and jk being down bad within like 5 seconds flat

word count - 13.4k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

Jungkook's cheeks are red, his nose blushed from the chill of the wind by the time you reach his place. It's just on the outskirts of town, past the jewellers' district and out towards the station, and it has you wondering why he's always getting fuel from your neck of the woods. It seems inconvenient, and if you were sober, you'd be questioning it. 

Sober, you might have even made assumptions about it.

Hell, you know you would be making assumptions about it.

But you're not sober, and he's got a hold on your hand like you're one of the priceless jewels in the windows you've just walked past.

You're gold dust; a diamond in amongst the rough of downtown Daegu.

In fact, he's holding you so tightly that it's almost as if there's a price on your head, and he wants to be the one to reap the rewards. No sharing. His, all his.

He doesn't loosen his grip on your hand as he begins to punch in the code to his apartment door. It's steel, and robust, hiding everything that Jungkook is behind it. You don't know him, not really - not like you want to - but there's something so painfully intimate about being invited into his space. Has you thinking that maybe you'll get the chance to know him. For a few hours, at least.

The lock beeps, a mechanical whir sounding as the bolt retracts, but he pauses as he puts pressure down on the handle.

"Can you, like, close your eyes?" He grimaces, glancing back around at you. His tongue is tipsy, about to make admissions he never would do sober. "I left in a rush, and there are clothes everywhere 'cause I couldn't decide what to wear and I-"

"Wait, wait, wait," you grin, eyes centred on his. "Did someone get pre-date nerves?"

Jungkook presses his eyes shut, smiling as he rolls his head back. He's never nervous. Always cool, calm, collected - but he can hear your little drunk giggles, and his heart rate is up, and shit, he thinks he might be nervous.

He knows he was nervous before he left. 

"I just-" he says with a frustrated groan, too exasperated to finish his sentence before he starts laughing, too. 

You're both a little tipsy, swaying, drawing closer to one another. It's innate, the way your body leans into his, with zero resistance from Jungkook as your hands grip the front of his coat for support.

"Shuuuush," he whispers, all giddy and coy, holding his index finger to your lips. It's almost as if he gives a fuck about his neighbours.

He doesn't.

He's just using it as an excuse to get closer to you.

"You shush!" You whisper back, mirroring his actions and holding your finger to his lips, too. 

His smile is so big that his dimples are on full display. They're as deep as his eyes are dark, and you just know he must have broken his fair share of hearts in the past. His hands cup your jaw, thumbs resting on the edges of your smile as if he's framing a work of art. He'd argue that he is. 

You look so dainty in his hold, and he finds himself overwhelmed with the need to savour your pretty little laugh. It'll taste just like his, but he doesn't care. Thinks it'll be sweeter coming from your lips. 

And, so, somewhere between your simpering laugh and his darting eyes, as a flickering light in his hallway beats in unison with your hearts, his lips find yours. 

He's still telling you to shush as he does so, and you tell him it back -  but neither of you actually shush until your tongues are in each other's mouths. 

He fumbles the keypad of his door again, getting you both through the threshold and into his tiny studio before you can even look at the mess of clothes everywhere.

The nerves he once had are gone, because he's confident about this; about you.

The movements of your bodies bleed into one another, neither one of you taking the lead. Instead, it's as if you're a pair of figure skaters gliding through his apartment, eyes closed - not that it makes much of a difference. The lights are off, and a string of fairy lights left up since Christmas provides the only source of illumination. 

Jungkook hadn't entirely planned on stumbling home drunk with you, but he knew he'd be stumbling home in some capacity, so leaving them on had seemed like a good idea at the time. He's proven right.  

And even though this night hasn't gone exactly how he had planned, he's not complaining. Especially not when your hands begin to fumble with his jacket. You undo it, push it off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor. 

Casual arrogance graces his lips as he smirks against you, unbuttoning the top of your skirt.

"I don't fuck on first dates," you tell him, but you don't stop him as he pushes the black denim over your hips and lets it fall to the floor. In fact, you're kind of giving him mixed signals as you reach for his belt, sliding the leather through its buckle.

"We've had, like, 300 GS25 dates," he mumbles into your lips between kisses, so casually that it's almost believable.

He pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it to the floor, and grabs your face just to kiss you again as soon as he can. 

It's about now, just after he's finished evaluating your 'dating' history, that you notice the pressure of two small metal balls flicking against your tongue. They're evenly spaced across the centre of his own tongue, and the mere acknowledgement of them has your legs clenching together. The lip ring was bad enough, but a tongue piercing? Fuck. 

He smiles as you moan into his lips, and assures you: "I think it's okay if we fuck."

Your hands are in his hair, his gripping onto your waistline before he rids you of your sweater, and all you can do is nod. Playing hard to get is a game for fools, and you're not really sure why you tried it in the first place. You're gonna be winning either way.

"Yeah, you're right," you mumble into his mouth. "We're basically married."

He laughs, and for a second you think that he must have been made by the Gods. It's the only way to explain how a human could be created so heavenly, even when they're about to commit enough sins to send them straight down to the pits.

"Happy honeymoon," he smirks, assisting you as you begin to push his jeans past his ass and down his thighs. Teamwork makes the dream work, after all.

You're both in your underwear, yet neither of you have even looked at the other's bodies yet. Too preoccupied. Too eager. Too consumed by the overwhelming need to feel one another.

His skin is warm, but the ridges of his torso are so hard that you'd be forgiven for thinking he's carved from stone.

Nudging his parted lips against yours, you gasp as his fingers curl in your hair.  Jungkook just claims your breaths as his own, pressing his lips firmly shut against yours.

One hand clasps your throat, keeping you secure, as the other trails up your thighs.

"Sure you wanna consummate this marriage?" He asks a little breathlessly, playing on the narrative you built up for this moment, just checking before he does anything he can't take back.

But you're impatient, and you don't think you could be any clearer even if you tried.

"Oh my god," you whine. "Just finger me already." 

Your words have him laughing all over again. He likes this, likes that you're not afraid to ask for what you want. He hadn't expected anything less, but it's satisfying to have his assumptions proven right. He kind of gets why you like making so many of them, now.

He fumbles about a little bit, not bothering to turn on the lights. It's not his first rodeo, and he doesn't think it's yours either - in fact, he knows it isn't. You wouldn't be so bold if it was. He doesn't embarrass easy, and knows that there are lessons to be learned with every new woman he acquaints himself with. You're no exception. 

"Gotta tell me what you like," he notes as he presses a kiss against your neck, the smell of your perfume so divine that he thinks you must be some kind of lorelei. It's like a meeting of black cherry and vanilla, but when his nose nestles into your hair, he can smell gasoline - and he thinks it might just be the hottest thing about you. 

You hum a response, the anticipation causing your heart to beat a mile a minute. He pushes the lace of your underwear to the side, his middle finger running between your folds. You're slick from his kisses alone, but so is he is. As you palm at the bulge in his pants, you can feel the wetness of precum leaking from his tip. He wants this just as much as you do.

"You can do better, little miss clutch control," he teases you. "Speak up."

Part of you wants to kick him in the balls. He's so sexy but so fucking annoying - he can hear how much you're enjoying his touch. He doesn't need confirmation - he just wants the gratification of hearing you say it. It's a power trip for him. You don't like giving men power.

"I like it when you shut the fuck up," you reply, hands in his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. If your words won't do it, then at least your lips will. The vibration of his laugh hums into your mouth, before he pulls away - only by an inch or so.

"That's more like it."

His lips return to yours, as quickly as they left, while he continues to roam. His fingers stay in your underwear, the very tip of his index finger mapping you out. Your body shudders when he brushes your clit, the direct contact a little too much.

He dips down to your entrance, pauses, and says "been thinking about this since the moment I met you," and then pushes two of his fingers into your cunt.

Your walls are tight and hot, but oh-so fucking wet. There's nothing about your pussy that he doesn't love. His thick knuckles are celestial inside of you, just as cosmic as the reflection of his fairy lights in his eyes, and you find yourself thinking that maybe those tattooed hands of his are something special, after all.

"Bra off," he husks, and you do as you're told. He'd have done it himself, but his hands are a little preoccupied. 

He adjusts the pair of you as your bra hits the floor, encouraging your legs around his waist.  Hoisting you up before you really have a chance to comprehend what he's doing, you're pretty certain that this is just an excuse to display his strength. You're impressed, so it's working, but you're also unable to really think about anything other than the way he feels inside of you.

Your back is against the wall, the weight of his body keeping you pinned in position as he fucks his fingers into you. There's no real calculation to his movements, just an awareness that he absolutely cannot fuck you yet. He'll simply finish too quickly. 

It's not that he doesn't enjoy a quickie - truth be told, he finds them far more convenient - it's just that it would be mortifying. 

He's not sure he'd actually be able to show up at the gas station ever again if you heard him whine like a little bitch and unload himself in five seconds flat.

Equally, he doesn't want you to dread his car coming into the forecourt. 

He wants you daydreaming about him, all hazy-eyed, like you are when you're drunk, waiting for his car to roll in. He wants you musing about the way his tongue feels against your neck, and your coworker asking why you're smiling so much. He wants you blushing as you try to think of a justification, and he wants you excusing yourself to go to the bathroom to sort out the wetness pooling in your underwear. 

So, yeah. A quickie simply won't do.

He grips onto the side of your neck with his spare hand as he sinks his fingers into your pussy again. The way you gasp is like music to his ears, every single one of his senses overrun by the entity that you are. 

It's mutual though. You're consumed by everything that he is; his scent, the sound of his laboured grunts, the taste of his tongue and the feel of his hands all over your body. The only sense he isn't violating is your sight - but it's only 'cause he's making you feel so good that your eyes are forced to rest shut. 

Jungkook, on the other hand, exclusively watches you. He marvels at the way your head leans back against the wall, neck exposed for him to leave a trail of pretty purple bruises. He knows he shouldn't. Knows he shouldn't leave a single mark on your skin. Knows better than to leave evidence of his crimes, but it's a sin he thinks he'd quite like to commit over and over again.

You're pretty good at faking it. A string of careless lovers, of whom you used to entertain prior to learning your worth, had helped you to perfect a moan. You can manipulate your body, make your chest heave with exertion, your pussy throb around their fingers, their cocks. You can make it leak, get yourself looking like a fucking mess for them, as if it's because of them. It's a fine art. 

Botticelli would admire you, you think. His Venus couldn't compete with you. Femme fatal; a kisser of jaws, a killer of the men you have to let down gently because they fall too in love with you for your liking. Understandably, given what you can do. You've mastered it. Mastered men.

And it's for this reason, that you don't fake anymore. If someone isn't pleasing you, you let them know. You view it as a way of helping humanity - or their future girlfriends, at least. Why waste time letting someone else think they're getting you off, when it's you doing all the hard work?

You'd gone into this prepared; ready to remedy what would inevitably be a disappointing shag with a near stranger.

But you're not throbbing around Jungkook's fingers - you're trembling. There's no self-made stutter in your chest, but there's one a little lower down, one that you've got absolutely no jurisdiction over. Y'see, the way you're gasping, like you're struggling against a riptide, caught in the wave that is Jeon Jungkook, can't be faked. 

It's what has him smirking as he puts pressure behind the kisses he's placing on your neck. It's the fact that every time you try and speak, even if it's just a curse or the sound of his name, it's cut short. You've no control. Fuck all. It's all on him, on account of him being inside you. If he's learnt anything about you in the short time that he's known you, it's that you're never speechless. Always getting that last word in. 

But you can't even formulate one now, his fingers pumping into you at such a speed, that the lewd wet noise is almost louder than your moans. Almost.

Jungkook isn't a jealous kind of guy, especially not when it comes to casual hookups - but he kind of thinks he's jealous of his own fucking fingers. 

Every single part of him wants your pussy; his tongue, his cock. You feel so good around him that he regrets not making a move sooner. Should have asked to fuck you as soon as you started talking about his car on his first visit to the gas station. Lord knows he thought about it.

His lips are on yours, not really kissing you, resting open, his breaths heavy and laboured. The way he's pushing into you, deeper, deeper, has you mirroring his expression, small moans pouring into his mouth. He wants to eat them up, devour them, use them as fuel.

You loosen the grip you have in his pale hair, gripping onto his neck with one hand, the other falling to his bicep. He likes the scratch of your nails against his bare skin, but there's a distance between you both that he wants to close. He pulls his hand from beneath your ass, relying on his core strength alone to keep you pressed into the wall, and reaches for your fingers. Intertwining them, he places his hand, with yours beneath it, back against the wall, above your head. 

The change in position has your chest lifting, almost as if your tits are begging to have his lips around them - and who is he to refuse?

His tongue finds your nipple, flicking against the hardened nub before sucking it between his lips. The vibration of his studs against your sensitive bud has your back arching. He sucks you further into his mouth, tongue lapping against you, before he releases your nipple - but it's so puffy, and wet, and perfect, and fuck- he can't help himself, teasing at it again with his tongue. 

So fixated on how you feel in his mouth, he's forgotten that he meant to be fucking you. His cock throbs beneath his boxers, as his fingers are kept warm by your walls, slick wetness creaming around the base of his knuckles and dripping down his palm.

His apartment is small, so it only takes him a moment to move you from the wall and toss you down into his sheets. There's a waft of his fabric conditioner as he does so, floral and soft. It's hard to imagine a man so broad, so handsome, so god damn irresistible, paying any attention to laundry - but you suppose it must just add to his charm.

"C'mere," you whine, as he takes a moment to take in the sight of you. Missing the way he feels, you pull him down onto the bed -  but he's scared that even just rutting against you will have him spilling himself all over your stomach. Instead, he places himself beside you, and gets to work.

There's a familiarity now, his mouth taking your nipple again, wet and wanting, as his fingers toy with your pussy. He's not sure which he prefers, your pussy or tits, but he's more than happy to play with them both. His thumb presses on your swollen clit, and you writhe beneath him. "You like that, huh?"

You try and respond, but his thumb begins to rub languid circles against you. If you couldn't muster a word before, then like fuck can you speak now.

"Huh?" he teases, teeth grazing your hardened nipple, now. His finger strokes at your walls as he sinks into you once more, on the hunt for something that no one has ever been able to find, except you. The way your legs are tensing lets him know he's close. 

"I asked if you like that." He's only a knuckle deep, stroking pretty little circles against your walls. Closer. You whine. "Don't go all shy on me now, doll."

Your body writhes beneath his, toes curling, teeth digging down on his shoulder in a failed attempt at keeping quiet. He hopes you'll leave a mark. His thumb presses a little harder against your clit, encircling it with pressure so deep that you're almost certain you'll die from his touch.

"Don't stop," is all you can manage. "Don't stop- fuck."

"Better," he says, pressing a kiss into your neck. You can feel his precum leaking onto your thigh, and the idea of him dirtying you has you insatiable. He can tell you're at his level now, so close to finishing that it won't be embarrassing when he's done in five-seconds-flat -  but the way you're putty in his hands has him unable to stop himself. He's gotta make you cum. Needs to. 

He presses his thumb down, fingers up, as if he's pinching them together, and then he's stroking and - "Oh, fuck it. Right there. Right fucking there." - he's found it. 

He's fucking found it, the little ridge in your pussy that up until now has been just for you. You've lied before, told guys they've hit your g-spot and faked a little something that convinces them of it - but it's never been like this. Ever. Not even when you find it. 

Jungkook follows your commands. He won't stop, doesn't stop, not even when your nails grab at his wrist because the pleasure is so unbearable, so intense, that it fucking hurts. 

"Like that," you encourage, knowing your grip probably says otherwise. "Like that, fuck."

He does as he's told, and keeps like that, lips latching onto your nipple, sucking just as hard as his fingers are massaging. The slickness of your walls compared with the texture of your g-spot has him going insane. He doesn't think it's his first time finding such a sacred spot, but it's never been this easy, and the reaction has never been this good. 

You moan out his name, 'cause he's all you can think about. Any and all articulation of your pleasure goes on him.

"Yeah, baby?" he asks, forgetting that he doesn't know you nearly well enough to be addressing you like that, but he doesn't slow down. You just moan. He can call you whatever the fuck he wants at this point. It's too good. Too much.

"Kook, I-" you try, but your hips are bucking, and there's fuck all you can do to stop it.

"Just a little more, baby," he promises you. 

He will make you cum. Will do whatever it takes, if needs be. The tip of his cock is red and leaky against your thigh, ready to fuck into you, but he doesn't give a shit. Your walls are hot. Burning hot. And then they're throbbing, and your torso begins to tense. You whisper his name like a secret prayer, legs trying to close around the welcome intrusion of his hand. 

"That's it," he keens. "Cum for me, doll. All over my fingers. That's it."

You're fucking mewling as your body shudders against his. There's no dignity left in your body. It's pooling in the palm of his hand, slick and slippery, just where he wants it.

"You're unreal," he hums, drawing the last of your little death from you. "Fucking insane, babe. So fucking hot."

Turns out the Grim Reaper had made an appearance that evening, just in the form of a 6-foot adonis, who knows his way around a pussy like he does a bloody electric switchboard. 

You're panting, and so is he, his lips curving against your skin. Neither of you speaks for a minute, both casually aware that it - this, the night - isn't over yet. 

And then Jungkook just thinks to hell with acting coy, or playing it cool. You're naked in his bed, and so is he. No point in beating around the bush (unless you're into it).

"Wanna eat you out," he says as he presses a kiss into your neck, placing himself more centrally over you. Your chest is still heaving, and the thought of cumming again makes you feel all dizzy. His elbows are rested by your head, cock stiff against your tummy. You wrap your arms around his neck, toying with his pretty blonde hair. "Wanna fuck you first, though."

There's a logistical step to be taken there. You're on birth control, and the subject of regularly testing had come up during a particularly suggestive conversation over dinner. You both know he'll be fucking you raw - which means he's finishing raw, too.

"But-"

"I don't care," he mumbles into your lips, a little rough, claiming them as his own. He really doesn't give a fuck if it means eating his own cum. Not like he hasn't done it before. He's probably just gonna spit it into your mouth, anyways.

He pulls his hips back to line himself up. The tip of his cock nudges into you slowly, gently, and then he eases himself forward. It burns, the thickness of his shaft spreading you in a way that his fingers couldn't. It's bliss. Divine. Heavenly, and yet absolute sin. 

He revels in the way you feel, for a moment, letting your walls stretch before he sinks into you fully. You curse as he does so, the pain overridden by pleasure. His hips begin to pick up pace, eyes on yours to make sure that you're okay as he ploughs into you. 

It's like he's digging for diamonds, almost. Funny thing is, when you gasp, eyes all wide and focused on his, it's looks like he's found them in your eyes. It's just the reflection of his fairy lights, but the illusion fools him.

Looking at you is too much for him to handle, so Jungkook kisses you as his hips begin to stall. He really wasn't kidding when he figured he'd finish in no time at all. His brows are creased, moans muffled against your lips. His torso shudders, abdomen as tight as his balls.

"Gonna make me cum," he drowsily mewls, fucking himself into you like it's where he belongs. 

His body is clammy against yours, stamina impressive but dwindling. His thrusts are getting sloppy, and so are his kisses, but you kind of love it like this; Jungkook so out of control he isn't even trying to keep a pace anymore. The rhythm of your body beneath his, the way he fits inside of you, how soft and warm your tits are as they pillow against his chest, it's all too much for him. 

He's so deep he's practically kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock, and yet he still hooks your leg over his elbow. He needs to be deeper. 

"Gonna make me cum so much. You want that, huh? Wanna be the reason I cum?" he grunts, and then his words become needy. "Tell me you want it, doll. Tell me."

He licks into your mouth, toying with your tongue before you even get a chance to respond.

"Don't want it," you pant, his harsh thrusts interrupting your words. He's about to be offended, all needy and pouty while he's buried inside you, but you're biting down on your lip and - oh, god - he's obsessed. "Need it. Cum for me. Want it so bad."

He smiles against your cheek as his hips move languidly between your legs. One of his hands comes down to your hip to help him control himself, but he can't. Not when he can feel you smiling, too. He laughs a little, soft and mellow against your skin - and when you do the same thing back, Jungkook knows he's absolutely done for.

"I'm gonna-" he rasps, unable to finish his sentence. "Where? Where do you want me?"

You don't say anything, just tighten the grip of your legs around his waist. You're a fucking mess, mentally, physically. He's ruined you in every sense of the word.

"Sure?"

"Sure," you pant against his skin, before repeating your earlier claim. "Need it. Need you."

It's a lie. You don't. You barely know him - but you feel so in tune, so aligned, when he's inside you that it feels like your pussy is the only place his cum deserves to be. It'd be wasted on your tits (though Jungkook would definitely disagree).

"God," he groans. "Don't say shit like that."

Jungkook has severely underestimated just how much of a little bitch you can be.

"Like what?" you pout as his thrusts get even sloppier, his skin slapping against yours. "What can't I say? How much I need you?"

He curses your name, lips showering you in pretty kisses. His tongue finds its home inside your mouth, but it's just an attempt to shut you up. A pretty good one, in all fairness. The way his studs feel against your tongue has you dripping around the base of his cock.

You can hear it; Jungkook slipping in and out of your soaked pussy like you're fire and he's ice.

"Need you," you simper again, just to fuck with him a little more. "Need to feel you fill me up."

"You want it that bad, huh?"

He pulls himself back a little, sitting up on his heels, holding onto your hips as he fucks himself into you. Your tits pillow on your chest, bouncing in time with his thrusts, hypnotising him, almost. You're smiling as your forearms cover your eyes, a little shameful of being caught in such a compromising position, but loving it nonetheless.

"Looking a little shy, there," he says, but his tone is so low it almost sounds like a growl. You pull your arms away, and he's amazed that you can still manage to raise a brow and throw him a pissed off glare even when he's balls deep in you. Truth be told, it just makes him want you even more. He's fond as he smiles at you. "There she is."

Even if you can't fake your orgasms for him, you can still fake annoyance.

"You gonna cum, or what?" You sigh, and then he's laughing, sinking back down, elbows either side of your head as he kisses you. "All men do is lie."

"Not gonna cum," he says, and you're right - it is a lie. "Just gonna keep fucking you forever."

"I have work tomorrow."

"Fuck if I care," he sinks his tongue back into your mouth, briefly, just to remind you who's really in control here. "Said I'll fuck you forever, so forever it is."

There's a bell chiming in your tummy, and you're not able to convince yourself that it's just another building orgasm. It's still him, though, in a round about way.

"We're not allowed to bring our pets to work," you deadpan. "No can do."

Jungkook stops thrusting, and pulls his head back, almost to look at you in disbelief. He's smiling, and he's so desperately turned on that his balls fucking hurt, but he's never been more perplexed in bed. You're equal parts a siren and a little shit.

You're grinning too, pleased to have rendered him speechless. "What is it, huh? Cat got your tongue?"

He smirks, now. "Nah. Not yet. But it will."

And then he's back at it, hips erratic, building such a pace that you can't even think, let alone come out with some dumb remark.  

"Still need it, huh?" He recites your words back to you, voice raspy and hushed, so close it feels like his body could give out at any second. He's edging himself, trying to make it last just a little bit longer, but it's so wet, and you're so fucking tight, and he's throbbing, and grunting and - fuck - it's so fucking good he might just die. 

"You're gonna look so pretty when I fill you up," he moans, before correcting himself. "Already pretty. So fucking pretty."

His hips slap against yours, once, twice, and then it's happening. 

He buries himself in you, body tense as a shiver runs down his spine. Your nails dig into his back, a hushed whine escaping from his mouth and getting lost in your hair. 

His cock unloads thick creamy spurts with every stroke of your pussy, coating you with the very essence of everything that he is. It's overindulgent and unrestrained. Fuck if it isn't the most full you've ever felt, ropes of thick cum spurting into you like he was built to fucking breed.

He pumps himself gently inside you for a moment or so, just to ease the remainder of his hot cum into you. The sound is lewd as he adjusts, his job very much done.

Neither of you speak for a moment, hedonism taking heed. The way his heart beats in his chest is unlike anything you've ever felt before. In fact, you're almost in a state of shock, and so is he.

Only for a moment, though. He's not actually done yet.

Your first orgasm was cute - but there's no way he's letting you see him that pathetic, that weak, without making sure you end up in the exact same state. 

He presses a few kisses to your damp neck, laughing softly. "Get what you wanted?"

Looking at you, brown eyes all big and sparkling, he pulls his torso back up, ass resting on his heels, before checking the state of his cock as he withdraws himself. 

You're smiling as you watch him stare at where the pair of you meet with such devotion that it's hard not to feel a little enamoured with him. Even if it is just a casual fuck.

"Got what I wanted." Your voice is light and airy, like you're a Disney princess waking up from centuries of slumber. Might not have had true loves kiss, but you bet none of them has ever had a fuck like Jungkook. 

You pout a little when he finishes pulling out, sad to have lost the feeling of fullness. He catches your expression, and smiles. 

"Cute," he says a little mindlessly, articulating a thought that wasn't meant to be shared.

"Shut up," you reply, embarrassed, but he doesn't mind. Not in the slightest. In fact, he loves that you didn't want him to leave. Kind of wishes that he could have kept his cock buried inside you, instead.

But Jungkook is a man of convictions, and a firm believer that he'll simply die if he can't eat you out.

You sort of think the moment has passed, that it was something he said in the heat of the moment. Figure now he's orgasmed, he's finished - but Jungkook is an endurance athlete, not a sprinter. There's still a hurdle left to jump.

He presses your legs apart so that he can look at you. Your hole is creamy and fucked out, his load slowly seeping out of you with every beat of your heart. His fingers dip just beneath your entrance, collecting his cum on them, before he pushes it back into you. He doesn't look at you, just your cunt, as he says, "told you you'd look pretty full of my cum."

The way he's staring at you, like a man who hasn't eaten for days being presented with a three course meal, has you feeling all hot and bothered.

You're satisfied. The sex you just had was enough. More than enough - but you're getting weak at the knees again, his desire infectious. You can't remember a time you've ever wanted someone as badly as you want him. Not for any deeper reason than the selfish fact that he makes you feel good. It's pure lust, no romance about it.

His fingers continue to push his cum into you, stroking up and down your walls, applying just enough pressure to let you know he's there.

He moves his body back, keeping his fingers snug inside you - and then he lowers his body, just a couple of inches from you. His breath feels cold against the slick wetness covering your pussy. 

"Also told you I wanted to eat you," he adds, as if you need reminding.

His spare hand strokes down the inside of your thigh before it reaches your hot core, and he begins to toy with your pussy. He spreads your lips open, just like he did your legs, and then he's studying you. Figuring out ways he can get your squirming. 

The first initial contact is brief; the tip of his tongue licking across the top of your clit. A parched moan escapes your lips, and he smiles. "There?"

"There," you moan, eyes closed, head pushed back into his pillows. 

He does it again, tongue a little flatter, a little firmer. You feel his piercing against you this time, smooth and hard. Your clit is snug between the two studs, like it was made to be there. He does it again. Wetter, deeper. And again. Slower, harder - and then his speed builds. 

He licks up and down across your clit, rolling it beneath his tongue, once, twice- and then you lose count, so lost in ecstasy that all you can think about is his tongue lapping at your cum-filled cunt, plugged with his fingers.

Occasionally, he sucks gently on your clit, just to earn a little extra moan from you. It works every single time.

You're leaking around his fingers at this point, so close to cumming again that it's impossible to keep your legs open. He feels the pressure of your thighs against his head, and it only serves to encourage him. His speed builds, both his tongue and his fingers meeting with your pussy at such divine speeds that you're sure you'll cum in such an undignified manner that'll he'll perhaps regret his choices.

As your muscles begin to tense, his head in a literal death grip, he smiles, dimples deep and lips pretty against your pussy. Jungkook is utterly enthralled with how it feels to have his face between your thighs. 

He keeps his eyes closed, letting himself experience the sensations of your body completely unadulterated. If he could see you, he'd be so obsessed with the view that he might not savour you in the way that he wants to. He wants to taste you, to smell you, to feel how soft and warm you are. If he wasn't obsessed before (which he was), then he definitely is, now.

The pressure builds, his tongue lapping against you, one of your hands tangled in his messy blonde hair, the other holding one of your boobs for a little moral support. 

You're too far gone to even let him know you're about to come undone all over again. He knows, though. He can feel you pulsing, and then you're gasping, and panting, and mewling and fuck, he loves the way you sound.

Your muscles throb as he brings you to orgasm. It's so undignified that you're certain you'll never cum like this again. Your abdomen flexes involuntarily, making sure your orgasm is signed, sealed, delivered to you. He pushes your legs apart again, glancing up towards you as he licks one final stripe up your exposed mess.

You ignore the slick on his fingers that's now coating your thigh as he spreads them apart, too busy with the fact his chin is soaked, hair a mess, nose blushed. He's watching your entrance seep; a mixture of himself and you. 

It's hard to know what belongs to who, but as he dips down and licks it up with the tip of his pointed tongue, the ownership is clear. It doesn't matter whose is whose, because your pussy belongs to him, now. 

It's all his. 

He gathers the creamy slick on his tongue, and then he pulls on your hand to encourage you into a sitting position.

You're putty in his hands, doing whatever he tells you, which is albeit very little. In fact, he doesn't say anything - just looks at your lips, then your eyes, and clasps your jaw. 

He opens his mouth and pools his tongue, letting the mess that you've both made sit prettily in his mouth, dancing over his studs. He nods gently, moving his thumb from your jaw to your pillowy bottom lip, pressing down on it. 

Open. 

He's insatiable. Wants his cum on your tongue, but wants yours on his, too.

You spread your lips apart, eyes exclusively on his. Your tongue flicks against his thumb.

And then you nod.

Please.

Jungkook is slow in his approach, tentative as he holds your jaw, bringing your closer to him. His tongue licks into your mouth, swiping against yours, swapping his cum between the pair of you. It's a languid exchange, slow and sensual, neither of you caring for the boundaries that are being crossed. 

He pulls away from you, hand gripping your jaw again. You open your mouth instinctively, just like he wants you to. Neither of you pay any attention to his phone, which is flashing on the floor next to his bed. 

Spit gathers in his mouth, rinsing himself of the pair of you as he draws you closer to him, your mouth still resting open. He spits directly into it. You whimper a little as he does so, his grip on your jaw keeping your mouth open for him to observe just how messy it is; all thanks to him.

"Swallow," he tells you, easing his grip, and so you do. 

Lips closed, you swallow everything; his spit, his cum, your cum, all of it. When he grips your jaw again, you know the drill, but it doesn't stop him from commanding you. 

"Open."

He's pleased when you do, mouth all pretty and clean for him to ruin again - but instead, he just kisses you softly, hands on your cheeks, pushing your bodies back down into his sheets. There's a tenderness to the way in which he touches you; as if he realises you sacrificed a little dignity for him, so he's trying to restore it.

He's hard again - had never really softened, in all honesty - but he's too sensitive to do anything about it.

"Stay," he mumbles against your lips. Your hands are in his hair, keeping him close, as your legs wrap around his waist. "Stay the night. Wanna wake up to this."

You moan into his lips. His cock is firmly pressed into your stomach, his naked body warm against yours. 

There's something about the weight of his body, the firmness of his muscular chest against the soft pillow of your own, that is unrivalled by any other sleeping arrangement you could think of.

And despite knowing exactly what he's saying, and being far too skeptical to think he means anything other than sex, you still choose to toy with him a little.

"Wake up to what?" You purr into his lips, aware that your hips are languidly rolling against him again. 

He kisses down your neck, laughing softly to himself. His smile vibrates against your skin, and, for a moment, it's your favourite feeling in the whole entire world.

"To you."

You're pretty sure he can feel the way your pulse skips a beat in your neck. But again, you're difficult. And this arrangement definitely isn't anything more than just sex.

"You mean to my pussy, right?"

He presses pretty little kisses back up your neck, along your jaw and into your lips. They're cute. Kind. Romantic, even. 

"Oh, a hundred percent," he grins against your lips, and then you're laughing too.

"You're so mean," you pout, as if you weren't the one to put the words into his mouth. There's a dimple etched into his cheek, eyes all hazy and sparkling as he shakes his head. He thinks you look adorable when you pout. So damn cute. He steals another kiss, and protests.

"Made you cum twice," Jungkook says, and has the audacity to scrunch his nose, acting all cute and shit. You're embarrassed, bringing your hands from his hair to cover your face, which you just know is flaming red. "I think that's actually pretty nice of me." 

He pulls one of your hands away from your face, and kisses your knuckles. His smile matches yours - because while yes, you're embarrassed, you're still riding the post-fuck high, too.

"You also spat in mouth," you remind him, and then he's cringing. Jekyll and Hyde have nothing on Jungkook when it comes to him and, well, him in bed. "That's not very nice."

He covers his eyes with his hands, but his teeth are still on show, smile prevailing. "Shut up."

And then he's kissing you again, 'cause fuck it, he just can't stop himself. 

It's been a while since he last got like this. In fact, he probably hasn't been this giddy post-fuck since he was a teenager. He's normally in the shower by this point, ridding himself of whoever he's been inside - but he doesn't have the compulsion to do that with you.

He knows that when he breaks from the spell you've cast upon him, he'll be back to reality. The fairy dust will settle on the ground like ashes, and the magic that once was will become nothing but malice.

There's a bridge to be crossed.

Jungkook has been fixing it up - repairing the cracks, making it sturdy - but he's not sure he wants what's on the other side, anymore. Not when you're in his bed, not when he can feel your chest wobble with every little laugh you do, and not when your nails are tenderly scratching at his scalp.

See, he likes being on this side of the bridge. Likes being with you.

But if he doesn't cross it, the trolls beneath it will inevitably come for him.

And so he asks you to stay again, but this time he says it like he means it.

"I want you to stay with me," he speaks quietly, rolling off of you and curling up beside you, reaching for the duvet that ended up at the end of his bed. He brings it back over your bodies, as if he's locking you in. You have to stay now.

You turn to face him, curling up too, mirroring him. Your fingers delicately tuck strands of his beautiful blonde hair behind his ear, ignoring the way his eyes are focused on you. Instead, you watch your hand as it moves, curiously touched by the fact he wants you to stay. You don't peg him as guy who often wants a girl to stay.

You're right to assume that.

Right to assume that he normally doesn't do this.

One night stands? Yeah, sure. He's had a handful - but never at his place. He doesn't like inviting people back to his apartment. It feels too personal. He likes being able to leave. He doesn't do the whole waking up together thing - no matter how much he likes morning sex (of which he does ( a LOT)).

But Jungkook's thinking about that bridge again.

He's thinking about the fact he knows shouldn't be at home right now.

He's thinking about the fact that you should be at home right now.

He's thinking about the fact his phone is on silent, and that Namjoon is probably cursing him out on voicemail right now.

But then you kiss him, and for a moment, he forgets again.

"I get grouchy when I'm hungover," you warn him, giving him an out, just in case he wants to retract his offer.

"Mhmm," he hums, pulling you into his chest. Your legs intertwine as he squeezes you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You're grouchy when you're not hungover."

You laugh, cheeks plump and full, resting right where his heart is pumping a little faster than usual.

"You're lucky you're a good fuck, or else I'd be out of that door ASAP."

It's a lie, and you both know it.

"Thank god for my cock," he says, grinning like an absolute twat. 

He decides that he's still really drunk. It's the only way to explain how his body feels all disjointed but perfectly together at the same time.

"Thank god for your cock."

────────────

You're still awake as the sun begins to rise. He's mumbling, saying something about how a town in Alaska has a cat for a mayor, while your head rests on his bare chest.

He's a little clammy, the smell of sex stuck to him. Neither of you have showered yet. You enjoy the way your bodies are a little sticky, skin on skin, as if you're made for his bed; for him.

Every now and again, his hands roam out of the realm of safety, and you find your breath hitching, toes curling, lips parting. It's always accompanied by the sound of an airy smirk from Jungkook.

You learn that he's obsessed with your chest. Your tits, more specifically. So pillowy, so soft. A gift bestowed upon you from Venus herself, he thinks, or at least he would, if he knew who Venus was.

He just wants to hold them forever. In his hands, in his mouth, he doesn't care. He'll put his dick between them too, eventually. Another time. He's too sensitive right now. But definitely one day, and definitely soon.

A little sunlight pours in, and you watch speckles of dust as they dance around in the air. When he laughs, soft and serene in the hazy atmosphere of a post-fuck come down, it's nice. You imagine that you'd quite like to do this again. You hope he feels the same.

"Just think it's funny," he says, toying with your fingers. "How a cat can do a better job than fully grown men."

"Pussy power," you smile, and so does he, before he presses a kiss into your hair. It still smells like gasoline and he still thinks it's the sexiest thing in the world. It's funny, 'cause if you knew it smelt that way, you'd feel insecure about it. It's why he doesn't mention it. Doesn't want you withdrawing from his touch.

He nestles down, shifts his naked body beneath his duvet but keeps you close. His legs interlock with yours and his lips find a home on the curve of your shoulder. "I'm really glad you said yes."

The comment seems out of the blue, but it's not. Your thoughts have been echoing in his mind, too. It sounds a lot like vulnerability. To him, it feels more like he's laying down a safety net. Making his intentions clear. Doesn't want you second-guessing. Not this, at least. He knows the way you like to theorise.

"You didn't really give me a choice," you rib, as if that chime isn't back in your diaphragm.

He squeezes you tightly. "Don't say that. You could have said no."

You shuffle down, tilt your head, and press a kiss into his chest, just between his pecks. Sweet like honey, your lips trail across, placing delicate kisses in pride of place.

His firm muscle; one, two. His dark nipple; a flick of your tongue, one, two. Just above his beating heart; one, two, three.

Your lips feather across his collarbone and land where tattoo leaks ever so slightly onto the top of his chest. You sign the art with your kisses like the ultimate thief. Stolen. Yours, now.

"You'd have still shown up regardless."

And you're right, he would have done.

Not for any grand romantic gesture, nor to coerce you into something you didn't want. He's just got a job to do, that's all.

He doesn't respond, but you don't really notice.

By the time you're dressed and leaving his apartment, the 503 is running. He offers to pay for your fare, but you tell him that it's fine, and hop on the bus as if your insides don't burn. It's been a while since you had a workout that vigorous.

There are a few old women and a middle-aged man in a business suit taking the same journey as you.

Your cheeks flush crimson when you start to think about the ache in the pit of your stomach, right beneath that little chime that likes to ding every now and again. That feeling? The one that made you quietly gasp as you sat down? That's Jungkook.

The acknowledgement ruminates. It's insidious. Has you feeling all dirty.

You wonder if they know. The people on the bus, the one's sat around you. They couldn't possibly know, not really, but you brood over the notion that you give off an aura; one that says you've just been fucked by the most beautiful man you've ever laid eyes upon.

You wonder if the old ladies glance at you and long for the days when they'd go home with strangers.

You wonder if the middle-aged man is responding to the pheromones you're releasing without realising it, cock a little plump in his pants.

It's a morbid curiosity, but one that makes you feel all hot, and sticky, and sordid. Makes you feel good, too. A little dangerous. A little bit like you wanna get off the 503 and leg it back to Jungkook's place.

It has you reaching for your phone, pulling up kakaotalk and clicking through on your most recent contact. There's still a message at the top of your thread, warning about spam, or fraud, or whatever it is. You don't read it. Too busy typing away.

You're about to press send on a poorly thought out message when your phone vibrates in your palm. You pause. Cringe. Are aware that Jungkook will have seen how quickly you read his own message that's just come through to you.

꾹:  i wanna do that again.

You: the galbi or the sex?

꾹: both.

꾹: mainly the sex, though.

꾹: the galbi i can take or leave.

Your legs press together, and realise you're squirming in your seat. It's subtle, but anyone who's looking at you must know.

You: funny, im the opposite.

You:  id die for the galbi.

You:  sex was alright.

꾹: wow, a glowing review.

꾹: can i add it to my tinder profile?

Like fuck you can, you think to yourself. If he's still active on tinder after the night you had together, you'll do the reasonable thing and learn witchcraft just so you can hex him. You tell yourself you're just joking, but honestly, the idea is tempting.

You: uh-huh.

You: you can put it right beneath a bullet point where you let them know how much you like eating your own cum :)

꾹:  technically, you ate it.

꾹: i just delivered it :)

You: thank you for your services.

꾹: any time.

You: tonight?

꾹: please.

And so he arrives at the gas station just before nine, hood up, angelic strands of blonde hair tickling over his eyes. He's got a mask on, like he usually does, a black turtle neck resting prettily around his throat. An earth-toned flannel shirt peeks out from the bottom of his jacket, where the hem meets a pair of black jeans. He has a charm about him that makes the world stop turning for a moment when you first look at him.

He's not really sure how to greet you. With a kiss? A high five? Neither of these seems like a good idea, so he just does an awkward half-bow, which leaves cringing.

"Just gotta cash up," you smile from behind the kiosk. "You walked?"

He shakes his head. "Parked around the corner again. Didn't wanna block the forecourt."

It's a reasonable enough excuse, even if a little weird. You finish what you're doing, cash up, give Jieun the keys (and ignore the way she's grinning at you) and then toss your jacket over your shoulders. He walks beside you as you leave the store, popping your hood up again just like he did the night before. "It's windy."

The forecast said it would rain, too, but Jungkook doesn't know this. Doesn't actually give a shit about the weather. Just needs excuses to put your hood up.

"So I've been thinking," he says as you make your way to the side lane.

"Dangerous," you quip, but he ignores it - though he does nudge you a little. You let your body move in accordance with his, swaying back into him slightly. Like a swinging pendulum, you're about to recoil, but Jungkook's arm drapes around your shoulders, keeping you close. The scent of his clothes is a mix of fresh cotton and WD-40. It makes you laugh, how much a walking juxtaposition he really is.

"I've been thinking," he reinforces, and pauses just in case you're planning on interrupting again - but you don't. You want to hear his thoughts. All of them. No matter how big or small. "What if... What if we skip the sex tonight?"

You don't respond immediately, walking around to the passenger's side of his car. He clicks down on his key, opening up the locks. The lights flood your features, illuminating you in warm hues, reds and oranges, as if to send Jungkook a warning: she's dangerous.

"Skip the sex?" You raise a brow, ignoring the butterfly atrium that has spontaneously constructed beneath your ribs. "You lured me here under false pretences, Mr Gimbap."

He doesn't question the nickname. Figures he'll find out its origins this evening. After all, all he wants to do is talk.

Talk about you, where you come from, where you plan on going. He wants to know more; what makes you tick, your favourite chocolate bar wrapper joke, if you really meant what you said about not fucking on first dates. Wants to know if he's special. Wants to know if he gets to you the same way you do to him.

He'll ask you about your favourite Shakespeare play, and he'll hope that you'll say Romeo & Juliet. It's the only one he's read.

You'll tell him that it's not a representation of love, and he'll say he knows. He doesn't - he just won't want you to think that he bases his idea of romance on such ill-fated endeavours. Thinks it's about stars-crossing, illicit affairs, love that prevails. Shit like that.

He isn't really sure what it all means, but he's seen the Baz Luhrmann adaptation, and that's enough.

You'll say that Romeo is an ass, and he'll feign offence and tell you that you'll never be his Juliet. It'll earn him a laugh from you. That's fine; you never wanted to be her.

You're a Beatrice in search of her Benedict, after all - and the way that the pair of you bicker, it seems like you might have just found him - even if he does think he's a Romeo. Twat.

"I didn't," he laughs in response to your earlier statement. "I just like to know the girls I'm sticking my dick in, that's all."

"Ohh, romance," you whistle through pursed lips, throwing him a coy smile.

He nods towards the buckle by your seat and tells you to do the belt up, as his key turns in the ignition. There's a small rumble, his exhaust rattling as fumes begin to bluster around the end of the pipe. He's listening again, revving the engine ever so gently, foot on the throttle.

The way he cares for his motor makes you laugh. He's so temperate, so careful - but you know he abuses the engine like no tomorrow whenever he races it. He treats it almost as if it's a racehorse; something with actual feelings.

You do as you're told, clicking the belt into place, and remind him to do the same.

"The girls?" You question as he passes you the aux. "Multiple?"

There's a static click as you plug it into your phone, before your playlist starts up again. His hands move like machines, smooth and automatic as he slips into first gear.

"The girls," he echoes, eyes flicking up to the rear-view mirror, and then over his shoulder to check the blind spots, before easing onto the main road.

"Charming," you say dryly.

It's not like you hadn't assumed this already. You had already decided that he at least had a friend with benefits lurking about (even if she had become too clingy (actually, no, especially if she had become too clingy)).

You'd figured that it was where he had been on the night that he was a no show - but then he'd shown up all apologetic and shit. You had let his innocent eyes win your skeptical mind over.

"Guys aren't really my thing," he follows up, sensing your discomfort. He knows he's beating around the bush, not giving you the answer that you want - and he also knows that you're getting in your head about it. Knows you'll be questioning what he means, and if he's sleeping with anyone else. He'd be within his right to. You barely know each other. Where he sticks his dick isn't really any of your business. "And I'm hardly a virgin, am I?"

"Gasp," you say. "You're not?! Could have fooled me."

He's smiling again.

You like how much he does that around you. Wonder if he's like that around other girls, too.

"Was I really that bad?" He flirts.

Jungkook knows how to fuck. He's been given enough positive reviews to know that he's anything but bad. Although... he kinda is. But in a good way. In the way that you want him to be bad.

"I've had better."

Liar.

"Ouch," he laughs as he presses down on his indicator for the next left. "Guess I'll just have to keep practising."

City lights cascade over the pair of you as his car rolls through the quiet streets, splintering like refractions of a mirror ball. He hates that he has to keep his eyes on the road. Wants to drink in the way you look almost as much as he wants to drink up the way you taste again. The night is dark, the moon hiding behind a fluffy cloud that looks like charcoal cotton candy beneath its radiant light. Jungkook loves nights like these; likes them even better with you in his passenger seat.

Green flashes over your features as he passes beneath a traffic light. You cross your legs, adjusting your posture. It's so subtle that you don't even realise you're doing it - but Jungkook does.

"On your other girls?"

There she is, he thinks. It's what he's been waiting for. Confirmation that the idea of him fucking other girls irritates you. He reaches across and taps your knee. He enjoys the predictability of you.

You resist the gentle nudge of his hand, the pads of his thumb and fingers resting on your kneecap. Your legs remain crossed, just as his hand remains on your knee. The stretch of road you're on is straight, requiring no gear change for a little while. He can play this game, if you really want him to.

"No," he says. There's pressure beneath his fingertips now. "Be a waste of time, wouldn't it? Everyone's different. If I wanna get better at fucking you, specifically, then I gotta keep fucking you."

He's not wrong. You can't fault his logic, and in all honesty, the way he's talking is so abrasive, so raw, that it's got you feeling all hot and bothered again. He may as well be stroking your pussy, not your knee, with the impact he's having on you.

His grip tightens, then pulls your knee back over. Commanding, not requesting. Your legs part for him, because of course they do. There's something about knowing he has options, knowing that he could be with someone else, but is choosing to be with you that gives you a little ego boost.

"Maybe I've changed my mind," you feign indifference, but Jungkook knows there's a handful of feelings beneath your words. "Maybe I don't wanna fuck you anymore."

He strokes his broad palm along the inside of your thigh. It's warm, wrapped in the sheer nylon cover of tights, and he'd obsessed with the way they feel. So smooth, so soft, so perfectly pristine. He wonders if you're making a mess of them. Hopes you are.

"I don't like maybes," he says. "Either you wanna fuck me or you don't."

"I don't like fucking boys who fuck other girls."

"Who said I was fucking other girls?" he smirks, and lets his hand trail a little further up. He squeezes the flesh of your thigh, getting a feel for you.

"You did."

"No," he corrects. "I said I've fucked other girls. Past tense. Never said I'm currently fucking other girls. You really gotta stop making assumptions, little Miss Clutch Control."

"I hate you," you say with a smile, and you really do mean it.

"I like girls who hate me. Makes the sex so much hotter."

"Despise you."

"Ugh," he grins, as he lets his hand reach the top of your thigh. He squeezes again, and you hum a little moan for him. "Doesn't sound like you hate me."

You giggle, soft and serene in the safety of his car. Reaching a junction, he pulls his hand back to change gear. You're at a four-way intersection, the light only just hitting amber, so he reckons he has a least a couple of minutes to toy with you.

When his hand returns to your thigh, just like you hoped it would, it's beneath your skirt. Right at the top. Right where it belongs. The pressure beneath his palm is firm, fingers sinking into the softness of your leg.

"But I do," you say, voice quiet, anticipation lacing your breath.

His pinky finger stretches out a little, just to stoke over the mound that rests between your legs. He can already feel the heat, but what surprises him - and excites him - is the slick that's seeped through your panties and onto the outer side of your tights.

"Doesn't feel like you hate me, either."

"No?" You toy. "Feel again."

And so he does. He points his index and middle finger, and holds them flat against you. They're instantly met with a slippery mess. He slides them up and down, once, twice, three times, and then cups your pussy with his palm. You're fucking pulsing in his touch.

"See?" You speak as if you don't wanna whine his name. "Loathe you."

"So you do," he mumbles as he presses his palm tight against you, inhaling sharply as he does so. One glance at his lap and you can tell he's just as turned on as you are. His cock is solid beneath his trousers, jeans tight, keeping him concealed. Part of you feels a little bad. Looks painful. He's too big to be confined by such unforgiving material.

"Still wanna skip the sex?"

Jungkook presses in index finger against where he can feel your entrance is. You're so wet that his fingers are already coated in everything that you are. He wants more. Wants your tights gone. Wants his fingers inside you.

But he's a stubborn asshole, and hates being proven wrong.

"Sex?" he pulls his fingers back, and rests the heel of his palm on the top of his steering wheel. They're covered in your juices. He considers licking them clean, but figures that might be a bit too brash - and then thinks fuck it, and does it anyway. There's a sweetness to your taste, one that has him holding back a moan. Absolutely fucking divine. You don't even realise that you're staring at his hands - the way they sink into his mouth - until he pulls them back out. He looks at you. Shrugs. "Yeah. Not really in the mood."

"Thank god," you say, not skipping a beat. Even when your need to fuck him is so intense that it manifests into a physical form and leaks onto his passenger seat, you're still able to bicker with him. It satisfies him like nothing else. Makes his cock so hard. "Me either."

The light turns to green, his hand is back on his gear stick. You stick to looking out the window, not favouring looking at him. The temptation to palm his crotch is overwhelming, but you're just as stubborn as he is. If you've said you don't wanna fuck, then you're damn well gonna act like you don't wanna fuck, until you simply can't take it anymore.

"Glad we agree," he says. "So let's talk."

You half wonder if this was his plan all along. You actually do think you hate him - but only cause he makes you feel weak. You don't enjoy that feeling, but you enjoy him.

"I'm an open book," you lie.

He flicks his eyes to the rearview and mutters under his breath, "shit."

"What is it?" you glance over your shoulder, noticing a pair of headlights flashing Jungkook. You can't make the car out. Its lamps are on full-beam. Blinding.

Jungkook leans over, the fingers that had been stroking against your pussy now pressing down into your buckle. There's a click as it releases, before he moves down and pulls up on the lever by the front of your seat, dragging you forward.

"Get in the back," he says, as if he isn't still driving. You go to question him, but he cuts you off. "In the back. Now. Middle seat."

You stare for a second, until he glances over to you, jaw tense, with no hint of a smile. "Don't argue with me, now. Middle seat. C'mon."

"Kook-"

"Now."

And as unsafe as it feels, you find yourself twisting, hands gripping onto the back of the passenger seat as you bring your legs up to crouch.

"Quickly, babe," he says, his hand reaching over to tap your ass gently. Your back is to the windshield, and Jungkook's terrified that the fucker behind him isn't gonna wait for a respectable start - but he's also anxiously aware of the fact he isn't explaining himself to you, and that it's gonna make you hesitant. "Please. Trust me."

And so you do. You wobble a little as your leg dips over the centre console, his hand still on your ass to keep you stable.

"That's it," he encourages. You make your way into the back, a little squeal as you leap soundtracking the move. "Seat belt. Now."

The leather of the backseat is cold against your tight-covered thighs, legs pressed together, feet firmly on the raised centre of the footwell. You do as you're told, all rather quickly.

"Hands on the seats," he tells you again, and you don't question it, even though it's all that you want to do. There's a time and a place for bickering with him, and while it's the perfect place, the urgency of his commands suggest that now isn't the right time. You grip onto the seats in front of you, and Jungkook reaches up to feel your hand, just to make sure it's where he wants it. His hand is clammy and warm, safe against yours. He lingers for a second, not wanting to lose the way your feel against his skin. "Hold tight."

He slows to a near stop, and you almost laugh when you realise where you are. That fucking bridge, again. The car behind you pulls up beside him, but it's hard to make it out through his back windows. They're so intensely tinted that all you can figure out is the rough shape. "Is that-"

"Yep," he cuts you off, knowing what you'll ask. "Car from the last time. It's cool. I got this. I will warn you, though, he's a little pissed with me at the moment."

"A little?"

You can hear the engine revving. Sounds more than just a little pissed.

"We're friends. It's okay."

Friends is a loose description. It would have been the right term, once. Jungkook thinks of him more as a colleague these days. A pain in his ass.

"Doesn't sound very friendly."

"I'ma need you to be quiet, babe," he says, voice soft. He isn't trying to be rude, he just needs to concentrate. Needs to win this. Needs to get Namjoon off his back. Needs to get you away from, well, here.

"Noted."

Jungkook watches the lights. It's how races like these work; the impromptu kind that first got him acquainted with Namjoon. They wait for the lights to shift, throttle teasing on amber, rubber-burning on green.

His gaze is on the lights and the lights only. The leather binding of his wheel almost squeaks as he grips against it, shoulders rolling back ever so slightly. Glancing over to the black SsangYong, he nods, and then his eyes are back on the lights. The lack of a flagger has never bothered them. In fact, Jungkook prefers racing without one. Fewer variables. Less chance of things going wrong. He knows the time of the lights. Trusts them. Trusts his muscle memory to do the hard work for him.

You can feel that chime in your stomach again - but it's different this time. It's a warning bell. The kind that tells you to get out of the situation you're in. Fat fucking chance.

There's a purr as the lights flicker into amber, Jungkook's rev count building. The sound of the SsangYong rips through the windows, letting you know just how powerful it is. Ain't no way Jungkook's fucking Pony is beating it. His grip adjusts, foot sinking further down onto his throttle. He builds it, 2, 3, 4 - and then the light is green.

The way Jungkook moves is as if he's at one with his car.

His movements are slick, well-oiled.

There's no hesitation, just an innate understanding of what needs to be done. His car tears from the starting line, and you forget all about the SsangYong he's racing.

It's hard to think about anything at all, in all honesty. Hard to comprehend the speed he's built so quickly; the control he has. There's a rush pulsing through you that you haven't felt since, well, ever. You don't enjoy racing, not really. You hate it whenever Yoongi rags his car about, but you trust him.

And you find yourself trusting Jungkook, too.

Maybe it's because you've already seen him tame his car when it's been out of control, or maybe it's because you've already trusted him with your body, so what difference does your life make?

His tyres are almost silent, moving at such a pace that there's no chance for anything to reverb. He grunts a little, pushing the car up to fifth, building, building and then -

"Corner," he braces you.

You're pretty certain you're going to throw up.

It's a route that Jungkook knows well, just a short circuit, over the bridge, sharp left out along the riverside road until they reach Kang's. Same every time. Hasn't yet thought about what he's gonna do when he gets there. Just knows he has to get there first to buy himself a little time.

He knocks the car into neutral, clutch down, brakes too, and then he's turning the wheel just a little. Not too sharp. Doesn't wanna oversteer. He coasts it round the bend, knowing better than to be in neutral, but he isn't thinking about that right now. He's thinking about the fact that Namjoon's car is fucking faster, and he needs every gain he can get.

Your hands grip into the padding of his seats, desperately trying to stop yourself from toppling over. Elbows locked, it's hard to determine the sheer amount of force you're putting behind your bones.

There's a screech as the tyres burn against the road, no doubt leaving thick black streaks on the tarmac. You're so used to seeing them on your way to work that you never really consider how they get there. Now you know.

He pummels the car forward, knocking it back into third, and then up into fourth. It's a miscalculation. Should have jumped right up into fifth - but he can lament that later.

He corrects his mistake. Strikes it into fifth. Namjoon is trailing. Jungkook has got this.

Eyes hard against the horizon line, Jungkook has no time to think. He flicks his eyes up to the rearview, catching sight of the SsangYong's bonnet. He's miles ahead.

Well, no. Not even a metre - but it may as well be miles. He just needs to keep up this pace.

Foot to the floor, he's tanking it. The shops you dart past become a blur of neon lights, nothing for your eyes to absorb other than the chaos of light beneath a dark sky. In the distance, you see Kang's.

"Shit," he hisses as the light at the intersection ahead begins to flash amber.

"Hold on," he says, as if you've even thought about letting go. Hands clammy from nerves, you adjust your grip. Tighter. So tight, your nails will leave prints in his leather.

He pushes further, further, further, but the lights are flashing quicker, quicker, quicker. "C'mon, beauty. C'mon."

He hits the junction line.

The lights are still amber.

And then he switches from gas to clutch. Easy does it.

Jungkook pulls the handbrake up. Clicks it into place. Pulls the car round with a single hand on his steering wheel.

He has full control over the vehicle as it roars into position right in the middle of the cross-section.

There's a blaring horn sounding behind you - but it's not directed at the Pony.

It's directed at the SsangYong, which has screeched to a halt. The oncoming traffic has been set free, lights fully changed. Jungkook made it just in time.

"He's stuck," you tell Jungkook, head over your shoulder, making sure that the SsangYong hasn't moved. "Can't get past the traffic. You're good."

You expect Jungkook to ease off the throttle, but he doesn't. He takes a sharp right instead, and begins to tunnel down back allies. Right, then left. Then left again, and another right. Takes so many rogue turns that you don't even know which direction you're facing in by the time he comes to a stop. It's been nearly five minutes since you lost the SsangYong - and yet he just won't ease off the gas. Not until he's certain Namjoon isn't lurking in the shadows of his exhaust fumes.

By the time he does eventually stop, his chest is heaving. Breathless.

You're down a back alley, across the other side of town. You don't recognise it.

Pressing down into the buckle, you undo your belt and clamber forward into the passenger seat again, feet up, body facing towards him.

He doesn't look at you for a while. Just stares ahead. Inhale, exhale. You can see his jugular vein beating.

"Hey," you reach out to his wrist, and stroke on his arm gently. He doesn't respond instantly. Just lets his eyes close. It's nice, the way you're so gentle with him, he thinks. So nice. So soothing.

And then his body acts before his mind does. He pulls on your wrist, grip firm, as his other hand pushes down the lever by the front of his seat. Weight on his feet, he pushes himself back, making space for you in his lap.

The way you clamber over the centre console is less than elegant, but he doesn't care. Just needs you on his thighs. Needs to suffocate in the scent of your gasoline tainted hair, and taste the sweetness of your tongue in his mouth. Needs to remember everything that you are, so he can forget who he is.

His hungry lips find yours, a hand in your hair, the other on your cheek.

There's really not enough room, your legs straddled over his, trapped by the door on one side, the gear stick on the other. It's tight and claustrophobic, but he likes it. Likes how ensnared he is by you. Wants to be even more trapped.

He licks against your lips and begs for permission to enter - as if you'd ever refuse. His tongue strokes against yours, the studs you'd (somehow) forgotten about making you whimper. He's rough and aggressive with his kisses, the adrenaline manifesting itself in the form of intimacy.

"I lied," he says breathlessly. "About the sex. I want it. Let me fuck you."

He wants to lose himself in you. Needs to.

"Backseat?" you moan into his lips as he begins to encourage the movement of your hips against his painfully hard crotch.

"Backseat."

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

[slowandsteddie]

So, um.

I know I had y’all vote to help me decide what I was going to write.

But a thing happened.

That this is called “I have been binge watching Law and Order: Special Victims Unit for months and now I’m on season nineteen and I cannot help myself.”

A few weeks ago (a month??), I took a break from SVU to binge watch Stranger Things in like 2-3 days before going back to Olivia Benson. (When will Elliott, my love, return from The War??)

But, um. Doing so made my brain come up with a lot of ideas and this SVU!au (crossover? Idk what to call it, it’s four am and I am SLEPY.) kind of just happened. Without my permission, it took over. Which means I ended up writing this one (that had the least votes, my bad friendos!!) instead.

So, to make my brain happy, I will be posting a sneak peak of “No. No. It can’t be you. I trusted you.”

I’m going to write the winner of my poll, “You’re going to make me fall in love with you.” / “Keep it in your pants.” and I’ll post that before I actually post my AU that is nearly ready.

But, uh. Yeah. Sneak peak time.

Steve and Eddie had been dating since about a month after Nancy had dumped him, after a party where she drank so much, called everything bullshit, and confessed that she was just pretending to love him. He had been in a pretty dark place and happened to know someone who sold weed. It turned to friendship almost instantly. Then one night, when they were both pretty high, one of them had leaned in and the other hadn’t moved again.

It was electric.

It was everything.

It was the eighties and they lived in a small town. So, they were stuck having to pretend that they were just friends. Stuck having to express their love in secret because of all the small minded hicks that they couldn’t wait to get away from.

“We’re going to graduate this year, Eddie. And we’re just going to disappear to somewhere no one knows our names.”

It became a countdown.

Nine months.

Eight months.

Seven months.

Six months.

Five months.

Four months.

Three months.

Two months.

One month.

Three weeks.

Two weeks.

One week.

In between each line of the countdown, there is a little snippet of their lives where they are talking about where they should move to. After the one week, it cuts to ten years later when they find each other again (that’s all I’m going to say. It’s all I can say without giving away the plot).

Because this one is an SVU based idea, I hope it goes without saying that y’all need to read the CW before continuing when I do eventually post it.

Okay. I love you and I’m incredibly sleep deprived so I go night night now.

[bi-demon-ium]

Constance Contraire and the no good very bad terrible day.

i mean there's the obvious place to start which is Constance Is Having A Bad Fucking Day, Man. but i think it would be about a) her relationship to the other kids, and how she often feels isolated from them even as she pushes them away herself (her antagonism with sticky, her fragile budding mutual respect/friendship with kate, and reynie's earnest but clumsy attempts to include her that sometimes do more harm than good--i imagine she sometimes sees them as more pity/just him doing it for himself "to feel good"/"be a goody two shoes" rather than actually liking her, so she might feel it's condescending--etc) and b) her relationship to mr benedict (who she genuinely has grown to like and feel safe with, but also is in the unique position of him being both a paternal figure and someone she's very, very aware of like. the flaws/issues he has, how he himself is a hurting, imperfect person. + her attempts to distance herself from him, too, like refusing the adoption, despite the fact part of her wants to stay, and how he reacts to that differently than the kids do)

so like. i think first it would start with her having a bad day in little ways--little, stupid things going wrong--and then it just builds and builds, she ends up first getting into fights with the other kids unintentionally (they think she's fucking with them and she's genuinely not and really annoyed) and then just sort of picking fights because she's upset and tense and it's all built up and she ends up storming off and then--there's mr benedict. and he tries to help, and maybe normally it would have worked. but constance is just. she is having the worst fucking day. (i think maybe it's even an anniversary no one else knows about--like the day her parents left, or something.) so she ends up snapping at him, and not just her usual mildly amusing rudeness. something really meant to hurt. and his eyes go wide and. i mean. constance is psychic. even if his voice hadn't gone a little wobbly before he forced it calm she would have known he was hurt. but fuck. it's so much worse when you're Literally Psychic bc she can almost feel it. and it's like. fuck. he's very good at pretending to be fine and keeping his face and voice steady but she ends up... well, does she quietly, while backing away, stutter out an apology? (uncharacteristic but she is extremely upset) or does she just run out right then and there? or does she keep up the uncaring facade a little longer, arms crossed, and calmly excuse herself? maybe he actually collapses, falls asleep, and she's gone when he wakes up. (does she leave him a pillow under his head, or does she just run?) whatever the case, she flees, and feels. even more awful.

maybe it's then she talks to one of the other adults--milligan's a great choice, or perhaps rhonda. or maybe she ends up talking to reynie (great choice) or sticky (to continue that theme of their relationship being a little rocky and him, now with more confidence, basically telling her while her rudeness has its charms, she can be genuinely hurtful, and she has to come to terms with that--but that it doesn't mean they want her to change entirely or suddenly be a reynie clone in braids. although... i think reynie would be too nice to tell her the first part but sticky is too close to it tell her the second part. hm.) (also i want to be clear i adore constance and her mean poetry and bluntness and contrariness, and i don't think she should change, but she can be genuinely hurtful or cause unnecessary tension, just like the other kids have their own issues. but also she's like twelve i'm not saying she's a bad person she is a traumatized isolated orphan and a whole child 😩)

anyway. constance introspection time. interiority and all. thinking about why and maybe even how she developed these coping mechanisms. she's not going to suddenly be super nice or anything, but like. she quietly slips into mr. benedict's study. maybe he's talking with one of the other adults, maybe he's silently reading or taking notes, but he stills when she comes in, even though she was silent. and then he looks up and--he's not mad. he greets her like always does, and she can feel that he's tired but genuinely glad to see her. she doesn't get it. maybe she confronts him about this (oh, constance, my dear. i'm not angry with you. and a little shouting like that certainly isn't enough to drive me away.) or maybe she just. sits. quietly next to him. he scoots over a little to give her more room, gently nudges her shoulder and offers her a biscuit. when she--very quietly, almost reluctantly--says i'm sorry, it's not reluctant or begrudging or angry, but almost a little ashamed. very unlike her. mr benedict (desperate desire to hug her vs respecting her boundaries: fight) says it's alright, my dear. it's alright. maybe one of them quietly moves forward one of the pieces on the chessboard--i think mr benedict, eyes twinkling, and constance says i will destroy you, old man, and then winces, but he only laughs, loud and delighted, then collapses back for a moment. it's nice--no longer overstimulating, in the quiet of the study. none of the others to deal with, although she isn't sure if mr benedict has somehow asked one of the adults to keep them out.

and--it's not such a bad end to the day. playing chess together quietly. maybe, after a few games, when it's a little late, constance even begins to talk.

[sparrow-flies-south]

Ten Things [4]

Fandom: Sanders Sides Pairings: Anxceit, Royality Intrulogical Summary: Ten Things I Hate About You AU When Roman Prince learns that Patton Foster isn’t allowed to date until his older brother, Virgil, is, Roman is crushed. Roman’s twin brother Remus, however, comes up with a plan: find someone who is willing to date Virgil. And who better to ask than Janus Verona, who according to rumours is willing to do anything for the right price? Taglist (ask to be added!) @glitchybina @imlikeaghostzombiejesus  @someone-idk-is-here @anxiety-ismy-name @ellietempest Warnings: Underage drinking, description of a panic attack, implied references to sexual assault (though it's never outright stated that that's what the character is worrying about) Notes: This is one of the chapters I've been looking forward to writing since I started planning this thing, so I hope you like it!

AO3 Link - Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six

This was a bad idea.

Scratch that, this was a terrible idea, and Virgil was clearly insane for ever agreeing to it.

They were parked outside Brad’s house, or at least, as close to it as they could get - the street was littered with cars. Virgil’s hands were still clutched tight around the steering wheel, and he was trying to keep his breathing even.

“Virgil?” Patton said. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Virgil said.

“Crowds do heighten your anxiety,” Logan observed from the backseat. “Perhaps it would be best if you don’t come with us.”

Virgil shook his head. “I promised Dad I’d keep an eye on you.”

Patton had not asked for permission so much as told Remy that they were going, and they had Virgil with them, and surely Remy trusted Virgil to keep an eye on them. Remy had agreed to let them go with the look of a man who was trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“Falsehood,” Logan said. “You promised your father you’d keep an eye on Patton. You are under no such obligations to me.”

Virgil rolled his eyes fondly. Perhaps he didn’t have any official responsibility for Logan, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to look out for him. With how much time Logan and Patton spent together, Logan was practically another brother at this point.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Virgil said, getting out of the car before he could change his mind.

Inside turned out to be just as crowded and loud as Virgil had feared. Teens spilled out of rooms, holding drinks and yelling to be heard over the music that was blaring as if this was a club rather than just a house party. In short, it was Virgil’s idea of hell.

“Oh!” Patton shouted. “There’s Roman.”

Virgil tried to look in the direction Patton had indicated, but it was too crowded to make out who Patton was talking about. People were all around them at this point, boxing them in.

Patton grabbed Logan and made his way through the crowd. Virgil watched them go, unsure if he should follow them. He didn’t like the thought of Patton being off by himself somewhere like this, where anything could happen. But he also didn’t want to ruin Patton’s fun by hanging over his like an embarrassing shadow.

He began to move through the crowd, looking for somewhere he could breathe. Logan was with Patton, and Logan wouldn’t let Patton do anything stupid. Virgil would check in on them every now and again, but otherwise leave them alone.

The crush of bodies was making the air thinner. His fingertips were tingling. He spotted a door that looked like a bathroom, and pushed towards it, barely aware of his surroundings. When he reached it, he nearly fell against it in relief.

He tried the handle. Locked. He’d have to find somewhere else.

He needed to get away from the crowd. He couldn’t breathe, and his head felt like it was going to split in two. Maybe there was another bathroom upstairs. He pushed his way towards the hallway, but people were everywhere, pressing in on him, trapping him.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and Virgil swung around. His shoulder buzzed, as if even his cells were trying to escape the sudden touch.

“You made it,” Janus said, a small smile on his face.

Virgil should say something, had to say something, before Janus thought he was a weirdo, but conversation was well out of the window by now. He just stared, as if that would make the world fit back in place. Janus frowned.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

That was something he could answer. He shook his head, tears blurring his vision.

Janus placed a hand around Virgil’s wrist. “Come on.”

Janus moved through the crowd and Virgil staggered behind him. They moved easier now that Janus was leading him, the difference between wading through a swimming pool and fighting against the current of a stormy sea. Janus’ hand stayed firm on Virgil’s wrist, an anchor, stopping them from getting separated.

Cool air hit Virgil face, and the world opened up around him. They were outside, now. Janus led Virgil to a swing bench, and Virgil collapsed onto it. He pulled his knees up tight to his body and buried his face in them.

Even here, in the open air, he still couldn’t breathe.

“Virgil.” Janus’ voice was quiet but firm. “I need you to breathe with me. Is that okay?”

Virgil nodded.

“Is there a breathing exercise you normally use?”

“Four seven eight,” Virgil mumbled into his jeans.

“Okay. We’re going to breathe in for four, okay?”

Janus quietly counted out each step. He didn’t manage to hold for seven the first two times, but Janus didn’t comment, just adjusted his counting and kept going, quietly telling him he was doing well in between each step.

Slowly, the pain in his chest fell away, replaced by an uncomfortable numbness that made his fingertips buzz, and then that, too, faded.

“Fuck,” Virgil muttered.

He really couldn’t go five minutes without a panic attack. And, as if that wasn’t humiliating enough, he’d really just made the boy he liked take him outside and look after him, like he was some little kid.

“It’s okay,” Janus said.

“It’s not. I can’t believe I did that.”

“Yes, how inconsiderate of you to have a panic attack. I’m sure you just love feeling like you’re dying at the most inconvenient times.”

Virgil slowly uncurled himself. It was surprisingly quiet outside. It made the party feel like it was in another world. Virgil was in a new one now, and he and Janus were the only two people in it.

“I’m okay now,” Virgil said.

“Good.” Janus made no attempt to move.

“So you can go,” Virgil clarified. “Enjoy the party. Hope I didn’t ruin it too badly.”

“Watching a bunch of teenagers get belligerently drunk and make terrible decisions does sound like fun,” Janus mused. “But I think I’d rather stay with you.”

Virgil shook his head. “Why?”

“Again with the cynicism,” Janus sighed. “I thought we’d already covered that I want to spend time with you.”

“Ordinarily, maybe,” Virgil said, though he still wasn’t sure why. “But I’m not exactly fun to be around.”

“On the contrary, I’d say you were far better company than any of the imbeciles in there.” Janus looked Virgil in the eyes. “If you’re trying to get me to leave because you don’t want me around, then I will go. But I have a feeling that’s not the case.”

If Janus left, Virgil would be alone. He’d either have to wait outside like a weirdo, or go back inside and act like he wasn’t completely out of place. He didn’t know which option was worse.

“You can stay,” Virgil grumbled.

Janus tilted his head back so he was looking at the sky. In the light from the house, Virgil could only just make out the raised skin of the scar that covered the left side of his face. “How generous of you,” he remarked with a smile.

 “I think you should stop for now,” Logan said.

Roman looked over to see that Patton had gotten hold of yet another drink, and was downing it quickly. What was that, his third? Fourth? Either way Logan was probably right.

“It’s fine, Lo!” Patton said when he came up for air. “I feel fine!”

“You’ll probably feel less fine tomorrow,” Remus remarked. Even he looked concerned, which meant that Logan was definitely right.

Roman took the cup out of Patton’s hands and held it out of his reach. Patton pouted and made grabby hands, but Roman refused to be swayed.

“How about we dance for a bit instead?” Roman offered.

The pout instantly disappeared, replaced by the kind of smile that could blind a guy from ten feet away. “Sure!”

They made their way to the living room, which had been turned into an impromptu dance floor, the furniture pushed against the wall to make more space. Patton held Roman’s hand as they went, and Roman tried his hardest to keep calm. He would not swoon just because he was holding hands with a pretty boy.

They found a slightly less crowded spot, and began moving in time with the music. Roman lifted their still joined hands in the air, and Patton spun underneath them.

Patton stumbled as he finished, almost falling into Roman’s chest. He giggled. “Oopsie.”

Roman smiled, though it seemed that dancing might not be the best activity at present, even if it did keep Patton from drinking. He looked around for Logan and Remus, but they must have stayed in the other room.

He turned back to Patton, about to suggest they get some air, only to find Patton was staring at him intently.

Before he could ask what was wrong, Patton stood on his tip-toes and leaned in to kiss him.

Roman wanted to kiss Patton. He really, really did. But he wasn’t going to have their first kiss when Patton was drunk, when he couldn’t tell if this was what Patton really wanted or just a lack of inhibitions.

He took a step back, and pressed his hand against Patton’s shoulder to stop him from closing the gap.

For a moment, Patton just looked confused, and then realisation and hurt rushed in.

“Oh,” Patton squeaked as he took a step back.

Distantly, Roman was aware that the people around them had stopped dancing and were staring. But all he could focus on was the way Patton looked like Roman had just torn his heart of his chest.

“Patton,” Roman began, unsure what to say.

“I’m sorry,” Patton said, tears filling his eyes.

Roman took a step forwards, reaching out to him, but Patton had already turned away. He plunged into the crowd, pulled away from the current.

Roman could only watch, unsure how things had gone so terrible so fast.

“Way out of his league,” someone said, and Roman glared in the direction it had come from.

A group of girls were huddled together, watching. One of them, at least, had the decency to look guilty.

Roman turned away and pushed through the crowd, leaving them behind. Arguing with them would do nothing except waste time. Right now, all that mattered was finding Patton and making it up to him.

 ***

“How come you were so good at that?” Virgil asked.

“I’m good at many things,” Janus replied, his lips curving into a smug smile. It would be infuriating, if Virgil didn’t secretly think it was cute. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Virgil gestured towards himself. “That. Most people take way longer to figure out what’s going on.”

Janus turned away. “Panic attacks are awful, aren’t they?”

Virgil was about to ask what that meant, but Janus cut him off. “I will admit this isn’t going completely how I had planned.”

Virgil snorted. “You mean you didn’t plan on wasting your evening out here?”

“I don’t usually plan first dates with the intention of causing the other person to have a panic attack,” Janus clarified.

Virgil’s mouth went dry. So this was a date? He stared at his feet, humiliation hot against his ribcage. So he’d got his wish, only to ruin it so badly there wasn’t going to be another one. That was some kind of monkeys paw bullshit.

“I suppose you’ll have to choose what we do for the next one. It’s clearly one area I’m not skilled in,” Janus continued, and Virgil’s head shot back up.

“Next one?” Virgil echoed.

“First dates are traditionally followed by a second, yes,” Janus said, as if Virgil was the one not making any sense.

Virgil was about to reply when a figure stumbled out of the house and dropped to the ground. A very familiar figure.

“What the fuck,” Virgil hissed.

Janus’ eyes widened, confusion and hurt flickering across his face, but Virgil was already moving, racing across the lawn to where the figure was sat crumpled on the grass.

“Patton?” Virgil asked.

Patton looked up, tears coating his face. He was hugging his cat cardigan tight to his body. Virgil crouched down in front of him, scanning over him. Not injured, thank God, but what the hell had happened?

“Virgil?” Patton asked, voice breaking. “Can- can we go home now?”

Virgil nodded, anxiety crawling up his chest and blocking his throat. What was wrong with him? And where was Logan?

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, Pat. Come on.” He reached out a hand, and helped Patton to his feet. Patton wobbled slightly as he got up, he must be drunk, and Virgil’s mind flashed through a hundred possibilities, each one worse than the last.

Had someone done something to Patton? How was Virgil supposed to ask?

“Is everything alright?” Janus asked, coming over.

Just the sight of someone else, someone who wasn’t panicking, filled Virgil with a sense of relief.

“I- I need to take Patton home,” he said. “But first I need to find Logan. Do you know where he is?”

Patton shook his head. “He was with Remus, I think?”

Remus probably meant Remus Prince, and that just opened up a whole other load of questions.

“Okay,” Virgil said. He’d have to go back inside to look for Logan, but that would mean leaving Patton alone.

“Go,” Janus said quietly. “I’ll look after him.”

Virgil nodded, and squeezed Patton’s arm. “I’ll be right out,” he promised, and headed back into the house.

Inside that crowd pressed upon him immediately, a Virgil felt as if a static cloud was surrounding him, electrifying him. He forced himself to keep moving, keep pushing his way through the room. Why did there have to be so many people? It was just making it harder for him to get back to Patton.

He pushed into the living room, scanning for Logan. Remus Prince seemed like the kind of guy who would be at the centre of attention, but Logan was the complete opposite. Who would win out between them?

A hand grabbed his arm, and a voice shouted “Virgil!”

Virgil spun, and tore his arm away from the boy in front of him, who was dressed in a white t-shirt under a red jacket.

“Have you seen Patton?” the boy shouted. “He ran off- I can’t him.”

Virgil’s hands clenched into fists. There was only one person this boy could be, and it wasn’t someone Virgil wanted to see. “Roman Prince?”

The boy - Roman – nodded.

Virgil put one hand in the centre of the Roman’s chest and shoved, sending him staggering back, almost colliding with a group of dancers.

“I don’t know what you did and you better pray you don’t find out,” Virgil snarled, stalking forwards. Roman’s eyes widened. The dancers had turned to see what was going on, but Virgil didn’t care. There was no room for anything but anger in him now. “Stay the fuck away from my brother.”

He pushed past the stunned Roman, and the crowd parted easily. He left the living room, and entered the dining room, where the crowd became thick like molasses again. Finally, he was able to push his way into the kitchen, where it was easier to breathe.

Logan was stood next to the sink, drink in hand, talking to a boy who was perched on a counter top.

Virgil saw red. He began to march over there to rip Roman away from Logan, until his brain registered that this boy was dressed in a green and black crop top, and was wearing purple eyeshadow. Not Roman. Which meant that this must be Remus.

Remus Prince might not be much better than Roman.

“Hey,” Virgil called as he got near. Logan and Remus both looked over. “I’m taking Patton home.”

Logan frowned, his brow furrowing. “Is he alright?”

Just like that, his anger disappeared, replaced by overwhelming exhaustion. “I don’t know. He came out crying, and I’m pretty sure he’s drunk.”

“Yes, I noticed he was drinking rather quickly.” Logan’s voice sounded even, but Virgil could see the way he tugged at his collar. “I should have tried harder to stop him.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Remus said, nudging Logan. “Pattycake can make his own decisions. Besides, Roman was with him.” He turned to Virgil. “What happened?”

“Why don’t you ask your brother that,” Virgil spat, and Remus reeled back.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means Roman did something to my brother!”

Remus shook his head. “Roman would never-.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to trust you on that?”

“Enough!” Logan snapped, stepping between the two of them. “This isn’t helping. Virgil, did Patton say what happened?”

Virgil shook his head, teeth clamped tight together.

“Then there is no point in speculating. Once we know what really happened, we can figure out what to do about it.”

He was right, and Virgil knew it. He forced himself to let out a deep breath. “Fine,” he muttered.

Logan nodded. “I assume you came to let me know you were leaving?”

“Yeah.  Are you coming with us?”

“That would just add an unnecessary detour to your journey. I will find my own way home.”

Virgil shot a suspicious glance at Remus. “Are you sure? I don’t like the idea of you getting a lift with someone else. Maybe I could come back and pick you up?”

“Again, it’s appreciated but unnecessary. I have a standing agreement with my mothers that should it be necessary, they will pick me up from anywhere I require.”

Remus leaned closer to Logan. “I’ll stay with you while you wait,” he offered. “By the way, has anyone ever told you you’re hot when you take charge like that?”

Logan shot him an exasperated look, but didn’t object.

That was something to overthink another time. Virgil gave a quick salute to Logan, and then hurried out of the house.

He froze in place outside of the door, because Janus and Patton were gone. There was no sign of them anywhere in the yard. The panic that flooded through him knocked his breath away, and his hands shook as pulled his phone out to call them. There was text from Patton already there; Virgil must have missed the notification.

This is Janus, it read. Patton and I are going to your car to wait for you.

Relief flooded through him, and Virgil took a shaky breath as he rushed to his car. They were fine. He’d drive Patton home, and then everything would fine. And if it wasn’t fine, then Virgil was going to murder Roman Prince.

Janus and Patton were waiting together, Janus looking rather out of place. Patton was still hugging his chest, but he’d stopped crying at least. Virgil was torn between interrogating him about what had happened right there in the street, and putting him straight to bed to sleep it off.

“Logan’s getting a lift from his mother,” Virgil told Patton. He turned to Janus. “Thank you for staying with him.”

“It was a total inconvenience and I expect to be compensated for every second of it,” Janus replied. His face was perfectly deadpan, but Virgil was pretty sure he was kidding. He held out his hand. “Give me your keys, I’ll drive you back.”

Virgil shook his head. “I’m fine, I didn’t drink anything.”

“You’re shaking,” Janus said, and Virgil lifted one hand to see it tremble. “I’ll drive.”

That would just add another way Virgil was bothering Janus. How long until Janus got fed up with him, and decided he never wanted to see him again?

But what if he did drive, and have a panic attack and not be able to control the car and roll off a cliff or something. Sure, there weren’t any cliffs in the area, but it could still happen-

Okay, yeah, maybe Virgil was panicking.

He handed his keys over, and then went to help Patton into the backseat, before getting in the car himself.

It was weird, sitting in the passenger seat of his own car. Janus pulled away from the curb, and Virgil plugged his address into his phone’s GPS. Once he was done, he twisted in his seat to look at Patton.

“You okay, Pat?”

“Dad’s going to kill me,” Patton replied miserably.

“No he’s not,” Virgil assured him. “Dad’s, like, incapable of staying mad at you. He’ll probably just kill me for not keeping an eye on you.”

“If you’re referring to Patton being drunk,” Janus said, “Then your father doesn’t have to know.”

Virgil shook his head. “We don’t lie to each other,” he said firmly.

“So you tell him everything about your life then?” Janus asked. “What are his thoughts on Mr Williams?”

Virgil glared. Remy knew that he didn’t like his English teacher, but that was it. He wasn’t going to add to his father’s worries. Besides it wasn’t like anything would come of it. Mr Williams could do what he wanted.

“That’s not the same thing,” Virgil snapped.

“Isn’t it?” Janus asked. “So long as Patton is okay, which he will be, what good does telling him do?”

“That’s not the point,” Virgil argued, crossing his arms. “Besides, what if he finds out?”

“While that is a risk,” Janus admitted, “It’s a low one. How would your father find out?”

Virgil shook his head. “Whatever,” he muttered. He glanced back at Patton in the rear-view mirror. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow, okay?”

Patton nodded, though he still looked miserable.

They drove through the twisting streets of the town in silence. Several times, Virgil wanted to speak, but each time the words died before they reached his throat. What was he supposed to say?

“Virgil?” Patton asked after a while.

“Yeah?”

“Why is Janus driving your car?”

Virgil’s cheeks inexplicably heated, and Janus laughed.

“That, Patton, is because I have taken a liking to your dear brother,” Janus said. “And so I would rather he didn’t die in a fiery wreck.”

Patton nodded, looking thoughtful. He leaned closer to Virgil’s seat.

“Virgil?” he whispered, or at least, tried to whisper. He apparently didn’t have much control over his volume, so it was more of a stage whisper.

Virgil glanced at Janus, who just looked amused. “What?” he stage whispered back.

“Is Janus the thing?”

Virgil had to be bright red now. Janus raised an eyebrow. “Thing?” he asked.

“Hey, how about some music,” Virgil said loudly, fiddling with his phone.

Janus shook his head at the music that came out through the speakers. “Why am I not surprised this is what you listen to?”

“Because I have excellent taste, duh.” Virgil said.

“Well, then I suppose I should be flattered that you spent your evening with me.”

“Correction: I have excellent taste in music,” Virgil shot back, and Janus smiled.

Virgil shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Seriously, though,” he added. “Thanks. For everything you did tonight. It was pretty cool of you.”

Janus just nodded in response, his attention focused on the road, hands tight around the steering wheel. His expression was unreadable. Had Virgil said something wrong?  Had Janus just been taking pity on Virgil and was now trying to figure out a way to gently tell him he wasn’t interested?

“Virgil!” Patton shouted from the back. “You should play this with your band!”

Janus’ mouth twitched. At least now he looked amused. “Band?”

“I don’t have a band,” Virgil said quickly. “Not yet, anyway. Maybe one day.”

“Let me guess: you will be the guitar player.”

Virgil nodded. “That and write music. Not that I’m much good at either.”

This wasn’t something he talked to anyone outside of his family about. It was too embarrassing, too easy to make fun of.

But it didn’t feel embarrassing, in the car with Janus.

“What about you?” Virgil said, changing the subject before he could think too hard about what that meant. “Do you play any instruments?”

“Piano and violin when I was a child,” Janus answered. “My parent’s idea. They claimed that it would be useful for my development. The fact that it gave them another two hours each week away from me had nothing to do with it, I’m sure.”

Virgil had never heard anything about Janus’ parents. In fact, it had never really occurred to him that Janus had parents. It felt as if Janus had just appeared at school one day, fully formed and ready to blackmail people.

Virgil knew what shitty parents were like. His birth parents had been great, but he’d spent enough time in the foster system after they’d died to get the full spectrum of shittiness. He wanted to say something, to commiserate, maybe, but Janus cut him off.

“Oh, look,” he said. “I believe this is your street. Which house is yours?”

“The blue one,” Virgil answered, letting the subject drop. “Just park in the driveway.”

Janus pulled in and turned off the engine.

“Thanks,” Virgil said, unbuckling his seat belt. He paused, hand on the door handle. “Wait, how are you going to get home?”

“I left my bike at the party,” Janus said. “I’ll walk back there and get it.”

Virgil shook his head. “No way. I’ll drive you there.”

“Virgil, the whole point of me doing this was so that you wouldn’t have to drive. It’s fine, I can walk.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Virgil protested.

“This is hardly a dangerous area.”

“Stay here.”

Janus looked incredulously at him, and Virgil felt his cheeks heat as he realised what he’d just said.

“Stay here,” he continued, forcing his voice steady. “I can drive you back tomorrow.”

“Will your father approve of you having a strange boy over?” Janus asked.

“What was that you said about him not having to know everything?”

Still, Janus looked hesitant.

“If you leave, I’ll just worry,” Virgil said, which was perhaps underhand move but it was still true.

“Fine,” Janus said at last.

Satisfied, Virgil got out of the car. He hovered close to Patton as the three of them went up the driveway, ready in case Patton stumbled.

“We’re back,” Virgil shouted as he pushed open the door.

Upstairs, floorboards creaked. Remy must be moving to greet them.

“Were going straight to bed,” Virgil added hurriedly.

“You better not have done anything I wouldn’t do,” Remy called.

Virgil glanced at Janus, standing next to a red-rimmed Patton. “No,” he called, thinking back to the many cautionary tales he’d heard about Remy’s teenage exploits.

“Alright,” Remy called back, and Virgil breathed a sigh of relief.

Upstairs, Virgil pointed Janus in the direction of his bedroom, and then took Patton to his.

Patton dropped down on the bed, looking like he was going to fall asleep right then and there. Virgil shook his head fondly.

“You need to get out of your clothes,” he said.

“Don’t wanna,” Patton mumbled.

Virgil sighed, but didn’t bother to fight. He sat down next to Patton and began to untie his laces.

“Virge?” Patton mumbled.

“Yeah?” Virgil replied, easing the first shoe off Patton’s foot.

“I tried to kiss Roman.”

Virgil’s throat tightened. “What happened?”

Patton flipped onto his stomach, and buried his face in the pillow. “He didn’t want me.”

Virgil sighed, and pushed Patton onto his side. Rejection wasn’t as bad as some of the things Virgil had imagined, but that didn’t mean Roman Prince could hurt his brother and get away with it.

“Want me to kill him for you?” Virgil offered.

Patton shook his head. “I want him to want me back,” he said, voice breaking.

Yeah, Virgil was definitely going to murder Roman Prince. “If he doesn’t want you, that’s his problem, not yours.”

“Feels like it is mine, though.” Patton covered his face with an arm. “Can today just be over?”

“Pretty sure it is by now,” Virgil commented. He rubbed his hand along Patton’s arm. “Go to sleep, Pat.”

“’Kay,” Patton mumbled, and closed his eyes.

Virgil waited a moment longer, but Patton didn’t move. He was either asleep already, or he just didn’t want to talk.

Virgil stroked Patton’s hair, just like he had that first time, only a few weeks after Virgil had joined the family, when he’d crept into Virgil’s bed after a nightmare. Virgil had felt frozen in place as Patton had curled up beside him. He’d never had a brother before. He’d had no idea what to do or say to make it better, and he’d still been terrified that if he didn’t do the right thing, he’d get kicked out.

Seven years later, and he still didn’t know what to do to make everything okay.

“Love you Pat,” he whispered, then crept to his room.

There was nothing more he could do about Patton tonight. He had a whole other problem to deal with.

The other problem was sat on Virgil’s bed, looking at the posters that covered the walls. Virgil quickly grabbed his pyjamas.

“I’m going to get changed,” he explained. “You can take the bed.”

But when he got back, Janus was lying on the floor, his jacket bundled up to use as a pillow.

“I said you could take the bed,” Virgil said.

“It’s your house,” Janus answered.

Virgil should probably try to fight it, but he was far too tired. He crawled into bed and turned out the light.

Sleep never came easily, and someone else in his room only made it worse. After what felt like hours of staring at the ceiling, he rolled onto his side to look at Janus.

Janus didn’t seem to be asleep either, though Virgil couldn’t see his eyes. He was shivering in just his t-shirt, and it couldn’t be comfortable on the floor.

His bed was a double, there was plenty of room. And it was a hell of a lot warmer than the floor.

Was he really going to this?

“It’s a big bed,” Virgil said, and then rolled onto the other side so he didn’t have to look at Janus. Yep, apparently he was doing this.

“I mean, you could stay on one side and I could stay on the other. We wouldn’t even notice the other was there.”

There was silence, and Virgil felt like he was going to combust from the awkwardness. Great, now Janus probably thought he was a weirdo or a pervert or something.

There was the rustling of covers, and Virgil shut his eyes. He hardly dared breathe, but then realised that probably made him look like even more of a creep, so he tried to adjust his breathing. What the hell was a normal amount to breathe?

He felt the mattress dip as Janus got in next to him. He forced himself not to react, as if a cute boy crawling into his bed was something that happened all the time.

The only sound was Janus’ even breathing next to him. Virgil stared at the wall and tried not to think about how close the two of them were to each other.

Yeah, there was no way he getting any sleep tonight.

[cosmictulips]

I've got no problem with you posting the reading, and as for any other oracles decks, I'm perfectly fine with just the botanical one. Once again, and I can not stress it enough, tysm for your time especially considering all the reading requests you get 😊❤

weee woooo weee wooo

Tipped Reading alert lol. 

gorl this thing is like 8 pages long.  so if you want a copy of your own I’ll be pasting a link here and it’ll be free for you to download for the next... idk 72 hours I guess xD 

You’ve read the disclaimer hopefully when tipping so like, I’ll just jump right into the reading. and here’s the link in case you want a pdf or something of it and hopefully it’s easier to read xD  lemme know if that link doesn’t work xD

In your reading the numbers 2,3,5 , 6 and 8  kept showing up in your reading the most.  So let’s talk about it.   Think of these numbers as energies.  These will be or are currently prominent in your life and in the ares you are asking for.  

So the number two represents cooperation, always aiming to bring peace and balance back to a relationship or situation.  It is partnerships -- the coming together or balancing of two or more people, concepts, or things. While it holds great power over any situation, it wields diplomacy and tact that the result is not control and authority, but harmony and teamwork. 

And then we have the number Three.  It is about positivity, communication. It goes hand and hand with the number two if you think about it lol. It is about creativity and balance.  This will help you get the ideas you need, and help you communicate them in any situation and to any person. We also have five and six. Which are the numbers of freedom,  being able to choose, and unconditional love.  These two numbers are unafraid of the world around them.  They seek connection with loved ones, and adventures.  They are ready for what lies ahead of them.  Much like two and three, they work extremely well together.  

Lastly we have eight. The number of achievements.  This is your sign that what you and your team and your loved ones put forth,  comes back to you in rewards.  Like I say in the reading, the universe hears you and sees your struggles and this is telling you that you are close to your achievements.  You must keep working for them.  You will build solid foundations with people and with what you want.  You will be able to connect, communicate and reach that goal.  You got this ;) but it’s not going to come without it’s strife and struggles.

Relationship Reading.

For your relationship, I asked what was coming forward to you both in the future and I pulled: Nine of Wands, Judgement, The World, The Moon,  four of swords, Two of cups, Eight of Cups, 6 of swords in reverse, seven of swords 

For the Oracles I drew  Night Light,  Sage, Castor Bean, Mandrake, Usnea and the Veiled Lady 

So let’s begin with the Tarot.   Nine of wands starts us off and this tells me that you two have probably been going through some stuff.  Whether through the relationship or just outside life things,  you both are pretty tired lol.  Which is fair given what has been happening in the world.  This is a message of positive growth though.  This is saying you two are so close to the finish line and to keep pushing.  There’s a lot of responsibilities that are being thrown at you but after this card comes the 10 of wands.  A lot of work sure,  but this story is about people who triumph over the pain and that heavy burden. 

We then have Judgement, the World, and the Moon.  A cycle is ending here.  Something is coming to its completion. And you two are awakening to that.  To a new idea of sorts,  to the idea that something doesn’t last forever.  I can also see this as an awakening to a better emotional connection here.  Between yourselves, the world around you and within your own body.   This does tell me and confirm to me that you both have you know, been pushing lol.  And it’s a lot of work but you two are growing.  As a couple,  as individuals and where you fit in the cosmic plane. The universe is hearing you and giving you divine guidance by connecting to each other and within yourselves. 

It seems like the rest of these cards is advice.  We have the four of swords,  6 of swords in reverse,  seven of swords, 2 and 8 of cups.  So the two of cups straight up is people offering their love.  It could be between the two of you,  it could be your support group, it could be your higher selves wanting to connect with you more.  Either way, there’s a new foundation for love that is coming in for you two.   The Eight of cups is about walking away from something.   Which I’ll come back to because before I get to that let’s talk about the six and seven of swords here.   Six of swords, generally means you are leaving something behind.  It’s kind of like the 8 of cups, but think of this as on the mental plane.  The eight of cups is the emotional one,  and the 6 of swords is the mental.  Our thought process, issues we can’t let go of, stuff like that.  And so,  when I see these two cards together,  this is telling me,  that someone is holding onto something that is no longer serving them.  There’s a baggage,  a feeling, a thought that you can’t let go of.  Like it seems like you have an emotional tie to it which is probably why the 8 of cups is hear.  

So here’s what I’m thinking.  There’s pain somewhere.  And you’re deceiving yourself -or the other person or you both-  into thinking it’s not causing you emotional pain.  You’ve detached yourself from it emotionally so now all you have left is this thought.  This memory,  this.. Distant emotional attachment that someone has to deal with.  And that’s probably why we have all these major arcana.  This is a process of you, them or you both,  going through this six of swords.  This wound you have detached yourselves,  and walking away from it once and for all.  Step out of the seven of swords.  This card tells me that yea, you kind of want to face it but as quickly as possible.  You want to sneak around the true meaning of it so you can finally go back to the two of cups and the Moon.  

The advice here though,  is the four of swords.  Judgement takes time.  Connecting to the Moon, takes time.  This seems like something that has really caused you guys some strife -9 of wands-  and it’s finally tiring you both out to the point where the four of swords is like,  hey really sit down and breathe lol.  I see that if you two can, or whoever it is,  can work through this,  you know it’s not going to suddenly go away but it’s really going to open doors for you two to come together and to connect back with yourself emotionally. 

So  now, let’s talk about your Oracles.

 I always like to start with the Mushrooms LOL I think mushrooms are so cool.  You got two for this one.  You got the Veiled Lady and the Night Light -which is probably my favorite because it fucking glows-.  The biggest meaning to mushrooms in general is change and capability.  Night Light is represented by the number 2.  Coincidentally -maybe ;) - number two is associated with the moon and emotions.   So this tells me, much like the tarot cards you, or the both of you, or them,  is going to go through a deeper emotional connection.  Because you also have the moon,  and we talked about the cups and the swords.  This mushroom is here to remind you of light within the darkness.  It’s okay to feel lost,  just know you are guided.  You will find your light again.   Then we have the Veiled Lady.  she is represented by the number 8.  This talks about balance and harmony, and even this mushroom itself talks about beauty and harmony. A lot of cultures view this mushroom as a sacred symbol and the fact that it looks like it’s wearing… well a veil of some sort.  This tells me a couple of things.  There is control here,  there is beauty in your relationship and in your future.  You two work well together.  And this could even be seen as you two unveiling yourselves to the universe and forming a deeper connection. 

I want to get the “Scary” plants out of the way so lets talk about the poisons that showed up.  Poisons here represent potential.  So it’s really not that scary lol.  Mandrake and castor bean.  It’s interesting that castor bean showed up because the oil itself when processed isn’t toxic but when it’s not, and it’s in its natural state, it is.   I feel like this really ties into what I was saying back in the tarot.  There’s something one of you, or both of you have detached yourself from.  There’s still a connection to it, that hasn’t been processed yet.  Someone wants it merely to be pushed away but it’s still tethered to the emotional realm by that 8 of cups.  This poison is also represented by the number two for it’s duality. 

Then we have mandrake which is represented by the number six as well in its suit.  The mandrake symbolism is of infamy, legends and myths.   Perhaps there’s something that lives in someone or the both of you, i don’t know ;),   that… has almost taken on this role of infamy.  Right,  it’s been so long that brining it up now might lead to some uh… whiplash so to speak.  I can’t really describe it other than a story so maybe you’ll understand what I’m meaning.  So when I was growing up I was always afraid to speak up.  And this lasted up until a few years ago.  Everytime I did I was always fought on it.  I was lead to believe that me talking about my feelings just made me seem like a dramatic asshole and that no one ever cared to listen to me.  See where I’m going with this?  It’s that myth that I was led to believe that made me never want to face what was bothering me.  But by facing my “mandrake”  so to speak,  I was able to start the healing process.  

So then we got Medicines and Herbs.  For Medicine we have Usnea which is represented by the number six in its suit.  For Herbs we have Sage which is represented by the number ten.  So lets start with herbs.  Herbs in this deck represent encouragement and support.  And you have the best one of all, SAGE!  Well, maybe not the best one I’m a bit biased lol -see my username xD-.  But sage is represented by 10 which is the universal number for completion and cycles.  Some say it’s the number that helps you connect to the universe.  And I mean, sage is what we use to cleanse -if you use… sage… I use… white candles anyway-  and this talks about wisdom and experience.  You both have grown and are growing through this experience.  It has its ups and downs but sage wants you to know that you will come through with this =) it’s going to be okay. 

Then we have medicines.  Medicines here represent protection and healing.  As… they should lol.  For your medicine card we have Usnea.  This is also represented by six in its suit lol.  And this is all about purity and breathing.  Much like the four of swords this card is telling you to relax.  To take a breather and really rest your bodies.  You are doing the best that you both can and with time, the answers will come to you.  You have put so much work in and you guys are so close to the finish line. 

Gaming Company Ask

For that I drew the: Three of Pentacles, King of Wands, the Sun, Eight of Swords,  Five of Cups, Page of cups and We also got the Wheel of Fortune. 

For Oracles I drew the: Seedling -the unknown-,   Lemongrass, Common sundew, Cobra Lily, Wild Sage, Echinacea

So now let’s talk about the gaming ask.  I think I read your question right xD you want to develop games and start a company of some sorts right? xD  so overall this is a positive reading.  I see this working out for you guys and really having the opportunity to grow the business.  It is not without it’s trials though.  So let’s get into it with the three of pentacles.    The three of pentacles is collaboration.  So whoever -I think you mentioned someone else too-  you work with on this endevoar I 10/10 recommend and so wouldn’t the universe.  It’s going to be this collaboration that’s really going to help you guys propel this thing forward.  I see you all being represented by the King of Wands.  So people who are leaders, innovators. I really see this with the person you guys want to work with.  This is a type of person who is really going to go at it with a 100 percent.  Like this person is dedicated. And that’s fantastic because we also have the sun.  the sun, and the king of wands??? Talk about a dynamic duo lol.  We got all the perks of being a good leader,  plus the confidence of a god lol.   They really are going to put their heart and soul into this.  They are proud of this lol. 

Then we have the problematic cards ;) five of cups and eight of swords.  These two cards talk about fears.  In a business sense,  these two cards talk about fears of leaving a job -because you know as you develop this business idea yall are going to need money-  and thinking that this is going to wind up getting you nowhere.  Like,  there’s almost a fear here that you aren’t going to be successful and that you can’t juggle all of lifes challenges and that you’re going to lose your job.  You know, typical job things lol.   I also really, strongly heard “not being heard”  so be careful of that.  Make sure all of you are being heard when talking and working things out.  Things aren’t going to go well if none of you are on the same page. 

Then we got the page of cups and wheel of fortune.  If you ever need a sign that something is going to be done well and successfully.  This is it lol. This is the “Hell yea!”  card when asking for a yes or no from the universe lol.  This is happy endings, fulfillment.  This is working hard and ending that cycle so you can finally enjoy the abundance you worked for.  This is going to work out beautifully for all of you.   Just keep in mind what I  mentioned with the last two cards ;) obviously life isn’t without its bumps but y’all have a real good chance at making this work.  So I say go for it. 

So let’s talk about your cards =D this will be more straightforward since you know about the general gist of what each suit represents.  Oh just kidding we have a new addition and that’s carnivorous plants.  These cards represent evolution and opportunity so don’t fear them too much ;)  so we’ll start with those.  You have the Cobra Lily and the Common Sundew.  These numbers are three and five. So there’s a theme with these two about dependence and struggle.  Which I mean,  is kind of fair when you’re trying to get something off the ground and rolling.  Both these plants require help of some sort to eat their prey. And it’s okay to need help and to receive it.   Just be warned that this journey obviously isn’t going to be easy ;) struggle is going to happen but much like these plants, you will thrive.

Then we have medicines again! We have Echinacea and Wild sage which is represented by the number 8.  We got two very different meanings going on here.  With Wild Sage it is connecting to “the dark goddess” aka artemis. But I work with Artemis and I swear I’ve never heard someone call her that lol. Anyway,  this herb is about power, repulsion and darkness.  I think this is kind of a warning to not get too -or someone is going to-  over headed here.  It’s going to be easy to want to take the regions but it’s teamwork that’s going to get you guys where you need to be.  ANd Echinacea is actually a plant that used to be used for cold and flu symptoms.  Here it’s represented as encouragement and engagement.  So don’t be afraid to step up and have your voice be heard.  -on all sides lol-  keeping yourselves in a constant chat about what yall want and need, is really going to help you.

And then we have an Herb and a Seedling.  Lemongrass is your herb and it’s represented by the number 9. Nine’s is all about wisdom and responsibility. And another theme is forgiveness ;) so be ready to forgive here.  And be responsible with you have to do.  Lemongrass is a symbol of protection.  So do not be afraid of speaking up.  You are protected and people will want to listen to you.   Then we have what I dub “the unknown”  the seedling.  Such as a seedling, you are stepping into the unknown.  There’s an infinite number of possibilities here and I’m just telling you at max maybe like two or three things that could happen.  Ultimately it is your journey and theirs.  Your success is up to you, and so isn’t your failure.

I firmly believe that you guys will succeed so long as you work together and tough through challenges.  Much like life, there is a lot of unknowns.  But that’s truly the fun of it, ain’t it? ;) I hope this reading helps you and if you any more questions please let me know =D

[artificialqueens]

And so we run (prologue) (Adore x Laganja) - Traumathicc

A/N: Hooooly heck I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ve been meaning to submit to this blog for a while, but I never really knew what to write about I guess?

Anyways, I was just dicking around in HGS because I’m stuck in 2015 and I got some Ideas. This might turn out horribly Idk. But we’ll see.

Also Adore x Laganja is an underrated ship.

”Ten”

Flashes of a childhood gone by flicker behind her trembling eyelids.

”Nine”

Summers working in the field.

Exploring the woods.

Finding stray dogs and adopting them.

Getting into petty arguments with her family.

Crying over trivial things.

Ignoring curfews to run around with-

“Eight”

Her eyes are open now. She finds herself searching for her gaze again. A familiar habit, she supposes.

“Seven”

There.

Something familiar.

Something warm.

Something brown.

She looks at Adore and Adore is looking back.

And she’s smiling.

She almost breaks down again. Adore is so strong. The strongest person she knows.

At least Adore will live through this.

Why does she have to be such a coward?

“Six”

“Hey”

She looks up at her again. Wonders if she’s scared too, despite her smile. Adore’s hand is semi-reached out, ghosting the air between them.

“Five”

“Run, Ganja. You’ve always been fast. I won’t let them get to you. Just remember; Run and don’t look back.”

She can hear Adore’s voice trembling now. And that scares her more than anything.

“Four”

Around them some of the others are setting themselves up to sprint. One of the girls five podiums down is sobbing loudly into her hands, earning a few sneers from her neighbors.

“Three”

She can feel something rising in her throat. If throwing up on national television is the last thing she does before she dies she could never forgive herself.

Instead she swallows and sets her jaw.

She looks away from Adore and the others and out into the woods in front of them.

“Two”

The other girl finally stops wailing. Everything goes silent.

“One”

In these final moments she somehow manages to promise herself she won’t go down without trying.

A loud *bang* sounds off somewhere.

And she runs.

[hibiscusangel15]

Thirty Question Ask Meme

Tagged by @jouleia! Thanks, dude!

one. how tall are you?

5′1″ lmao I’m short af. :’(

two. what color and style is your hair?

Black, straight, medium-length, I guess? It ends just past my shoulders and my part is all over the place lol. 

three. what color are your eyes?

Dark brown.

four. do you wear glasses?

Yeah.

five. do you wear braces?

...Yeah, Invisalign ones. I got them just last year because I’ve had this gap between my front teeth since I was a kid because I didn’t believe people when they said wiggling your loose tooth would make your teeth crooked, so.... Thanks, seven year old me.

six. what is your fashion style?

Usually jeans and a t-shirt, with a jacket or hoodie thrown on that in winter.

seven. any freckles/moles/beauty marks?

Moles, yeah. One beauty mark on my face.

eight. when were you born?

June 28, 1996

nine. how old are you?

20 (holy shit i’m gonna be 21 this year halp)

ten. where do you live?

California, near the Sacramento area

eleven. do you have siblings?

Three younger sisters. I’m the oldest, but everyone thinks my younger sister born after me is the oldest lol.

twelve. do you go to school?

Yeah. I’m a junior and and English major at Sac State.

thirteen. what kind of student are you?

That one quiet, awkward kid who people think is smart af but is really a clueless, little shit making things up as she goes along. Procrastinating master. I will avoid doing essays until absolutely necessary, and even then, I will go on Tumblr or find something else to do. I study both too much and not enough.

fourteen. what are your favorite tv shows?

...Does anime/cartoons count because I have a long af list.... The only other shows I like that aren’t animated are The Walking Dead (I’m not caught up with Season 7, though), Criminal Minds, and Scorpion.

Recently, I just finished watching the first season of Boku no Hero Academia, Erased, and I’m currently watching Mob Psycho 100.

fifteen. favorite past time?

Writing, reading, listening to music, watching movies/anime/cartoons/Youtube videos (recently, I’ve been watching I Hate Everything. He’s so great. If you like sarcastic humor, you’ll like him. Basically, I need more people t talk to about him, so please watch his vids and talk to me about them), playing video games, and drawing.

sixteen. what is your dream job?

I’m trying to become an editor for fiction books, but I would be ecstatic if I could be a financially stable author one day, too.

seventeen. would you like to get married one day?

Yeah.

eighteen. would you like kids one day?

Maybe? idk.

nineteen. girly girl or tomboy?

Tomboy af.

twenty. do you like shopping?

At cons, yeah, lol

twenty-one. what countries have you visited so far?

Just the Philippines. I would like to visit more someday.

twenty-two. what’s the scariest nightmare you’ve had?

I’ve had several zombie apocalypse dreams that were pretty freaky. I hate the idea of being in a zombie apocalypse situation, but I really like The Walking Dead??? idk man.

Anyway, one of the scariest dreams that I had was when I was 10. I was in my great aunt’s old house in the dream. For some reason, they were going somewhere, and they had left me alone in their house. Out of nowhere, it gets really dark and a bunch of long, dark hair starts spilling from cracks in the ceiling, and suddenly, that one ghost from the Grudge is in the house and is crawling after me, and I can’t get out of the house for some reason.

I remember waking up completely paralyzed with fear, and that dream still haunts me today.

twenty-three. do you have enemies?

My anxiety, lol “Enemies” is a pretty cheesy way to put it, but there are definitely people irl that I absolutely despise.

twenty-four. do you have a significant other?

Nope.

twenty-five. if not, do you want one? eventually?

Yeah, I think it’d be nice. I mean, it sounds nice.

twenty-six. are you open about your feelings?

Depends on the person I’m talking to, tbh. I can be kinda open about my feelings online, but I usually end up deleting posts that get to be too much.

twenty-seven. what’s your family like?

My mom and dad are pretty weird and funny (like we all have inside jokes with each other that are practically memes lmao). They can be kinda strict, and they have some “traditional” views I don’t agree with, so I don’t talk about those topics with them. Both my parents work in the Bay Area, my dad as a machinist, my mom as a nurse, so my sisters and I don’t see them home every day. In fact, we only see my dad on the weekends or holidays or random days he gets to come home early. They both tend to talk while we’re in the middle of doing something and they tend to repeat things they’ve already said on top of that, which can get irritating, especially if I’m trying to think.

My three younger sisters and I all like the same things, pretty much. I have two sisters still in high school (one of which is gonna graduate this year), and one in middle school. The sister born after me irritates me a lot, but we also can understand each other with a look. Like we exchange glances and just know. Because she’s taller than me, a lot of people assume she’s the older one, lol.

My younger sister after her can be kind of clueless about things, but she’s also very caring and passionate about the things she likes, which I admire ‘cause I was not even like that at fifteen, lol.

My youngest sister is a complete savage in that she has the most beautifully sarcastic quips for anything. It’s so funny that a freaking twelve year-old delivers all these great one-liners. I even ask her for comebacks in my fics when I need them ‘cause I’m not the best at comebacks. 

My grandma that lives with us doesn’t understand much English, and my sisters and I don’t speak any Tagalog or Ilocano, so there’s a really obvious language gap. It doesn’t help that she has hearing problems, either. But she helps around the house a lot and helps us when she can, which is nice. We’re not very close, though.

My uncle that recently came from the Philippines is much the same way as my grandma. He does know more English than her, though, and he likes to randomly burst out in song when he’s bored, which took some getting used to because no one else in my immediate family does that.

My pet bunny Chappy is an albino (we’re not sure what breed she is exactly since she was given to my dad by his coworker). She’s getting pretty chubby ‘cause we spoil her with fruit and food, and she’s both super lazy and super mischievous. When we try to get her to exercise, she’ll just lie down on our carpet instead, and when we’re not paying attention, she’ll try to hop upstairs and go to places she clearly knows she’s not supposed to go.

And she’ll look you dead in the eye when you yell “No!” and do it anyway, lmao. I love her so much. She’s the cutest thing in existence.

This pic is almost two years old, but look at her:

twenty-eight. would you date someone your family didn’t approve of?

It depends? If I like them enough and know what kind of person they really are, then maybe?

twenty-nine. any pet peeves?

I hate it when people touch me without permission, even with people I know. I know there are probably more because I get annoyed really easily, but I can’t think of any rn?

thirty. do you believe in astrology?

No, but it’s fun to look up my sign and see what results I get on stuff, lol.

Tagging (if you want to do this): @leviprime, @luna-of-legend, @tsunemorichan, @voiceactresskurutta, @belcherchild, @two-braiins, @penileqweef

[chelsorz07]

two in a row...must have been a rough week back in 2010

Old me/new me. I’m in a shitty mood so I have a feeling it’s mostly the same me.

Who sits next to you in english?

not in school. Haven’t been in school for over ten years so now I don’t even remember.

If someone liked you what would be the best way to let you know?

um, tell me? Just don’t. 

Who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night?

my dad. My cats because I have very little human contact.

Would you consider your parents to be strict?

not anymore. they don't care. My dad got way more chill over the years. My mother will never change, even though I’m almost 30.

Have you ever tackled someone to the ground?

probably. I really don’t think so.

Is your last name longer than 6 letters?

it is six. Nope. It’s 5 letters now.

What was the last thing you wore that was black?

bra. My current pants.

Do you say the F word a lot?

all the time. Like every other word.

What happened a year ago in this month?

fuck you. Idk probably a lot of me working and being alone.

What’s the last thing that went into your mouth?

mike's hard lemonade. Cigarette.

When was the last time you laughed really hard that you cried?

tonight. I don’t even remember.

Do you have a mirror in your room?

yup. No. There’s one in the cats’ bedroom though.

How about a tv?

yeah it's a piece. Yeah it’s the same POS I had seven years ago. And two years before that. Actually there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just tiny.

Do you have alcohol in your house?

quite a bit. Little bit of wine, even littler bit of whiskey, and a lot of beer. None of it will be consumed.

Did you like anyone last summer?

FUCK YOU. I mean I’m married so.

Do you think you can last in a relationship for 3 months?

fuuuuuuuhuck you. Try eight and a half years.

If someone told you that you were a player, what would you say back?

i'm gonna become one. cuz i'm fucking sick of getting screwed over. I’d say that’s hilarious because I’ve only ever really been with one person.

How old will you be in 5 years?

26. 33.

What happened at 09:00 am today?

gave randa some breakfast. I was at work. And it’s after midnight so it was technically yesterday. But I have to work again this morning. Morning shifts can suck my crank.

Is any part of your body sore?

all of it since i started working out. My entire body hurts all the time. Psoriatic arthritis probs.

Last night you felt?

like shit again. go figure. Tired, depressed, annoyed, in pain, bored. 

Are you taller than 5’5”?

yep. An inch.

Stayed single almost the whole year?

SHUT THE FUCK UP. Haven’t been single since the last time I took this survey.

Told your parents you were going somewhere but went somewhere else?

i don't even tell them where i'm going anymore. they don't care. I’m an adult.

What if the last person you texted told you they had feelings for you?

he has. he does. sucks to be him that i can't get over the last person i was with before him. I’d say what we’ve both been saying for years, that we should have just married each other. That way we could fuck who we want and not worry about screwing each other over because she’s my hetero life mate fo lyfe.

What are you drinking?

mike's hard lemonade. Nothing. I’m waiting for the Mountain Dew I put in the fridge to get cold.

Do you have clothes that are not yours?

i still have dave's sweatpants that he let me wear on new years last year....depressing as fuck. Dave and I share clothes all the time. And I have some t-shirts that I stole from my sister like fifteen years ago and she’s never getting them back.

Is sex the most important thing in a relationship?

no. Apparently it doesn’t even chart.

If someone cheated on you, would you take them back if you really loved them?

ugh. one person. no matter what anyone says. or what i say. I have. Twice.

Got in any fights this year, 2010?

not physical ones. verbal, pretty much every day. I don’t get in fights. It’s not worth it.

Have you ever liked someone who treated you super shitty?

every day of my fucking life. Every day of my fucking life.

What do you look like right now?

like a drunk ass bitch with issues. Like I need a nap and a shower.

Cried recently?

daily. Last time I cried was yesterday morning because I put on the wrong jeans and they didn’t fit and I didn’t have time so I had a mental breakdown and left late.

Do you like sushi?

no. I do not eat fish of any kind.

Do you find it weird that some people brush their teeth in the shower?

kind of. Yeah I’ve tried it. I don’t like the sensation of brushing my teeth with hot water.

Describe how you’re feeling today:

dr. unk. Like shit.

Connection between you and the last person who text messaged you?

pretty sure it was chele. and she's like my best friend. and future roommate. It was Amanda. And like I said, hetero life mate.

Have you ever been in a hotel room with a friend of the opposite sex?

yepppppppp. You know, I cannot for the life of me remember who besides my family I could’ve ever been in a hotel room with at that point in my life. But I have several times since then.

Has anybody ever given you butterflies?

yeah. I guess.

Do you hate when people smoke around you?

no. No but I’m sure they hate it when I smoke around them.

You have to get a facial piercing, what do you get?

lip. I’ve always toyed with the idea but don’t think I’d actually do it.

What would your mom do if she read all your text messages?

it's really not her business, no matter what they say. so i don't care what she'd do. Tell me I’m nuts like she does when she reads my facebook posts.

Do you like cuddling?

yes. Depends on my mood. Sometimes I’m just like, don’t fucking touch me.

Do you dislike anyone right now?

i dislike everyone. That’s still pretty accurate.

How long does it take for you to fall asleep at night?

i don't sleep anymore. If it even is night when I try to sleep, several hours.

What's running through your mind right now?

i hate my life. What’s gonna happen to our house fund when Dave decides he just has to have a brand new Cadillac when he’s already put over 60 grand into the one he has now.

Would you ever live with anyone of your friends?

i plan to, very soon. I have lived with some of them.

What are you listening to?

nothing. Supernatural.

Who was your last text from?

chele i think. Text, Dave. But more recently I was facebook messaging Amanda.

Do you currently have a hickey? Where?

no. it's been over a month. I haven’t had a hickey since (apparently) over a month before the last time I took this survey.

Anything you would change about your life right now?

EVERYTHING. Where I live.

What color are your eyes?

hazel. I mean yeah but they’re more green.

Are you wearing any jewelry?

my lion silly band. if that counts. hope he's wearing his too. Wedding ring, engagement ring, antique ring on the other hand, and Dave’s wedding ring on a necklace because he’s not allowed to wear it at work.

How often do you give out second chances?

to one person and one person only. Anymore? I don’t.

A random person you don't know says they like you, what do you say?

don't care. Still don’t care.

Are you dating the last person you kissed on the lips?

not really. kinda hard to date from 700 miles away. We’re married.

Have you ever kissed more than one person in the same night?

nope. Actually yeah lol...one time we were all shitty on Four Loko and Teej tried to make out with me (he’s gay but kisses everyone when he’s drunk) and I was with Dave the same night.

Do you always answer your phone?

hardly ever. I don’t answer my phone. Like if you can’t text me, you don’t need to talk to me. Don’t call.

Someone phones you at 3:00 AM. Who do you expect it to be?

don't care. If anyone is gonna call me at all, let alone at that hour, it better be an emergency. So I’d expect it to be my family. Even though I hope that never happens.

Were you dating anyone this time of year last year?

i seriously hate you. I was married to someone this time of year last year.

Has anyone ever crawled through your window?

yep. Yes.

Do you tell your best friend everything?

aside from how much i'm falling apart, yeah. Hahahaha now I tell her that too.

If you were to die today would your life be complete?

no. No but my life will never be complete so.

Can you honestly say you loved your last ex?

no. but that relationship lasted all of five days. the one before that, yes. absolutely. and i still do. and always will. I did and I do. Other than Amanda, he’s my best friend in this world. I just don’t have the same feelings for him that he has for me.

Are you a jealous person?

no. Yeah.

Has anyone ever told you that you have pretty eyes?

yeah. Kinda like all the time. I mostly agree. That’s the only thing about my appearance that I actually like.

When was the last time you talked to your most recent ex?

just a few minutes ago. Couple days ago.

Have you ever broken someones heart?

yeah right. nobody cares enough about me to be heartbroken. Supposedly.

Without saying names, what's one thing about the last person you kissed?

he SUCKS at foreplay. He’s having a midlife crisis and worrying about him and our relationship is stressing me the fuck out and making my anxiety and depression worse.

Congratulations ! You just had a daughter. What's her name?

HELL no. I’m leaning towards Jenna.

Are you going to see Alice in Wonderland?

my former answer stands. I don’t do Disney.

Do you think people talk about you?

i know they do. don't really give a shit. Yeah. Still don’t care.

Hows 2010 been for you?

worst year of my life. especially the last four months. and three days. 2010 was bad but 2017 pretty much fucking sucks too.

Is there one person you look at and automatically smile?

yeah. A couple.

Honestly, if you could go back one month and change something would you?

stfu. I mean not a lot has happened in the past month. 

This past October, what was your love life like?

oh my god. kill me now. Same as it is now.

Can you recall the last time you liked someone a lot?

NOW. Now.

Compared to this time last year, are you happier or sadder?

i'm completely empty. Way worse.

Did you kiss, hug, or hold hands with anyone today?

no. I am alone.

Are you a forgiving person?

unfortunately. Not so much these days.

Is your life drama filled enough to be in a reality show?

i try to avoid it but somehow the people around me seem to start it constantly. No but I should have my own show anyway because I’m hilarious.

Have you ever just laid outside and looked at the stars?

yeah. Yeah but it’s been a really long time.

Is there someone that you're attracted to?

sigh. My husband.

Who was the first person to text you this morning?

i have no idea. erica i think. Amanda.

Would you prefer skittles or starbursts?

starbursts cuz they last longer. Starburst.

Did you do something mean to someone today?

i'm mean every day. I doubt it. Fake retail me is a peach.

Is any part of you happy at all?

not even remotely. Not really.

What do you mainly want right now, that would just make your week?

for david lipps to realize that canadian midgets with illegitimate children who don't actually love him and like to play with his mind aren't worth giving up the girl who would die for him at a moment's notice and would give anything to have him back. To find a house and move back home like immediately if not sooner.

Would it be hard seeing someone kiss the person you like?

UGH. I’d kill them because he’s mine.

Does it bother you when someone lies to you?

i'm used to it. no one tells the truth anymore. It shouldn’t surprise me but somehow I still get blindsided.

When will your next kiss take place?

never. Probably October 19 when Dave gets home.

Do hugs help when you're sad?

they make things worse. I stand by this. Because then I’m like if you’re being this nice to me right now why can’t you be this nice to me all the time, even though I’m a piece of shit and don’t deserve it. So then I break down even harder and embarrass myself.

Any nicknames?

not anymore. my former so-called friends called me titties. Chelsorz. But I hardly ever see the person who calls me that.

I bet you kissed someone today, right?

randa. I really didn’t.

Did you wake up in the middle of the night last night?

i didn't sleep at all. That’s an every day thing.

Have you kissed someone in the past week?

randa. Yes.

How many drugs are in your system?

alcohol. Nicotine.

Would you say your an understanding person?

no. and i hate your lack of grammar knowledge. God that still bugs me. And no, I’m not.

Who do you miss and why?

i miss feeling like i had a future with the man i love. even if it was all lies. I miss home.