#this is such a cute one so ty again for the tag angel!!!!

[rosieofcorona]

people i want to get to know better tag meme

tagged by the delightful @collegeoflore!! tysm my darling!! 😘💕

i feel like i may have done this one and tagged a bunch of folks already (idk bc i have a goldfish memory), so i am going to let y’all participate at will. 

last song?

favorite color?

pink forever 💕

currently watching?

just finished the new ep of true detective: night country and when i tell you this season is everything to meeee

last movie?

hmmm, i feel like it was godzilla minus one (and it was excellent! i was pleasantly surprised bc i knew almost nothing going into it)

currently reading?

i am cycling between a re-read of carmilla, a re-read of all the living and the dead, and a first readthrough of gideon the ninth (SO hype for this one, all the hottest people i know love gideon the ninth)

sweet/spicy/savory?

prob spicy but i will eat anything on this earth

relationship status?

engaged baybee

current interests?

i feel like if you’ve been on my blog for even one millisecond you are clued into my current interests BUT bg3, dragon age, and succession are hiiiiigh up there atm

last thing you googled?

king lear bc i am gathering Inspo™ for a succession concept, lol

selfie or another pic you took?

this is my most recent and i’m p sure it’s already on tumblr but o well

[chocum]

KARMA !

— brat taming the jjk men feat. choso kamo, kento nanami, toji fushiguro.

WARNINGS. femdom!reader, f!reader (she/her), brat taming, cock slaps, crying, handjob, choking, p in v, riding, overstim, lingerie, lollll slotted toji out :33, recording, finger sucking. ( 2k ) note. hellloooooo hope u all enjoy this. i had fun writing bc i loveee the idea of making big strong men crumble mhmhmhm. anywaysss reblogs are appreciated thank youuu love u all. repost bc last night it didn’t show in the tags 💔 but i edited it and added alottt so if you already saw it feel free to read again !! ty

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 CHOSO KAMO

“ma— make m— ooohh fuck. wai—wait” his voice trembled so cutely that it was barely coherent, crumbling into a pretty whine that drowns out his pathetic attempt (if you could even call it that) at being a defiant little brat, making you giggle, your slicked up thumbs pushing and rubbing down on the slit of his leaky tip, sending jolts of pain masked as pleasure up his bony spine, “make you?”

immediately he knows he’s fucked up. the air between you growing thick.

he didn’t know what came over him, really. maybe he had been watching too much porn, fantasizing too much, because the idea of getting tamed by you— god, just the thought of getting put in his place, turned him on so much. so, so much.

but having to actually disobey you, he couldn’t. he believes he was only put on this earth to serve you and please you. to be good. his head hurriedly shakes side to side, making each strand of ravened silky hair jump and dance before resting to frame his flushed face, “‘m sorry didn’t me—”

you land a heavy, hard slap to his cock, the sound pounding in his flushed ears blending with the beat of his heart, making his body tense up and jerk underneath you. his breaths come out in ragged little gasps, each one such a struggle as his fuzzy brain short circuits under your warm palms.

it really is cute, you think. cute how easy it is to break him. the pretty tears that drip down his puffed-up, blushed cheeks remind you of that. he’s choking on his sobs when you move to cup his face and kiss the corners of his eyes, and his cheeks. crying and sniffling because he hates when you’re mad. hates disappointing you.

“‘m sorry, i don’t— just wanna be so good for you. i’ll be— wanna be your good boy.”

“i know,” you coo, petting him like the pretty pet he is, “wanna try again for me, hm?”

and oh, he’s nodding so sweetly, cock throbbing for you, his big glassy eyes heart-shaped, staring up. so ready to be yours, ready to be the good boy you’ve trained him to be.

so you tell him again, “fuck my fists, make yourself cum, pretty boy. and look me in my eyes.”

his hips buck up, the salty tears on his cheeks warming and dried as he uses your sticky hands like a fleshlight, whining prettily when you tighten your grip around him, “‘m sorry” he babbles over and over, drooling out the corners of his parted puffy lips.

he’s so good. staring into the blown pupils of your pretty eyes without fault, like you told him to. because you told him to.

and his thighs burn, his legs shaking and trembling against the silky sheets as he gets closer and closer. the pain almost urging him on, “are you gonna cum for me? baby? gonna give it all to me hm?”

“yes, ple— please. please, can i cum can—”

you pull your hands off him.

drawing out the prettiest whine to ever be heard. like a song of the angels. his head falling back against the wooden headboard, hips bucking up in search of something to ease the ache that overwhelms in his tummy. those hot tears making a special reappearance.

“aww baby,” you hum, feigning sympathy, massaging his warm— full, heavy balls, “did you really think you’d get to cum after that, hm? did you?”

his eyes widen in desperation, disappointment. he tries to speak, to plead, to beg, but all that comes out are broken little sobs and whimpers.

the look on his face is almost pitiful. furrowed brows, pout, and his mouth hangs open.

you bend to lean in closer, your breath so warm against the shell of his sensitive ear, “you have to earn it, baby. good boys get rewarded. brats get punished.”

for you, he nods weakly, his voice barely a whisper as he chokes, “i’ll be so good, pro— promise. please, let me cum. let me show you how good i am”

so pretty. your fingers slip down to massage his aching balls, applying just enough pressure to keep him on that edge he loves to dangle over without giving him the sweet, sweet release he craves. “nuh uh, not yet,” you hum softly, your tone both firm but oh so gentle. “show me how much you want it.”

his hips buck up involuntarily, humping the air in search of your grip— relief, eyes locking onto yours, colored irises filled with adoration. he’s completely at your mercy, every nerve and ending in his body on fire, every muscle tensed up in anticipation.

and you can see the struggle in his eyes. it’s really a beautiful sight, and you savor every moment of it. “that’s it,” mumuring, “keep looking at me like that. show me how much you need it.”

his breaths come in short little, ragged gasps, his chest heaving and caving, thighs burning from fucking the air.

but finally, after what feels like an eternity, you decide to grant him some mercy, your hands moving back around his throbbing cock, stroking him just how he likes it, “cum for me, pretty boy,” you command, a soft, seductive purr. “give it all to me.”

with a strangled, gargled cry, he obeys. his body convulsing, every muscle tightening as he finally, finally finds his release, his cum spilling all over your hands in thick, hot, sticky spurts. and he’s so obedient, his eyes remaining locked on yours, even as his vision blurs and fuzes with pleasure.

“there you go,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “such a good boy.”

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 KENTO NANAMI

the tie that usually wrapped snug around the collar of nanami’s shirt adding that signature pop of yellow to his suits now decorates his flushed neck, constricting it, the tail of it clutched tightly in your fists as you ride his cock, your hips rolling and jerking against him relentlessly.

thick cum drips down to his balls, pooling underneath him, a swirl of your mess and his. he’s cum two–no, four? he doesn’t even know how many loads he’s stuffed into your warm cunt— or how many you’ve forced and sucked out of him, his cock so sensitive it fucking hurts, every time you snap back down on him sending poky jolts of overstimulation through his entire body.

“fu—fuck, honey, please. i don’t have— ngh— don’t have anything left to give. fuckin’ drained me already— can’t—”

you tug on the silky fabric, making him choke on his words, gargling on warm, foamy spit. his hands reaching to grab at the curve of your waist, but he’s flinching, remembering how you said, no touching. remembering why he’s in the position in the first place.

because he doesn’t listen.

refused to keep his hands to himself, your body begging to be touched, in his words. as if he didn’t take you seriously, just kept grabbing at you, digging his slim fingers into your plush skin.

so, obviously, there’s some sort of misunderstanding .. some sort of disconnect. he must have forgotten who was in charge.

you don’t even give him a response, ignoring the prickly burn in your thighs to fuck him dumb. maybe then, ironically, he’ll learn how to act. each jerk of your hips move to push him further to the edge, to remind him of his place.

his body is weak, just sitting pretty, twitchy, letting you do as you please, sweetly hiccuping under your frame, “hah— please, my fucking god i— i’m sorry” he’s all gone and sucked up, cock crying, drooling pathetic tears of salty cum in your cruel walls. sweat peppering his forehead, slicking the ridges of his chest, making him glisten.

“please, i’m fucking begging i’ll— hah, won’t disobey you again. i’ll— i’ll be good. i’ll be yours”

aw, there it is.

and you hum, stilling your hips, letting his cock fill you all the way up, “mhm that’s all i needed to hear. now give me onee more load. just one. know you can do it pretty boy, give it to me”

even though his body is spent, just the true definition of exhaustion, he responds, his pretty cock twitching inside you as he drags against his own warm cum in your spongy walls. and it doesn’t take long before he’s giving into you. balls so empty, just a few little spurts drooling out, but it feels just as intense, maybe even more than any of his other orgasms. “good boy”

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 TOJI FUSHIGURO

“toj’ my pretty boy” your finger draws across the pink lacy lingerie that does a pathetic job of covering his cock. poking out, leaking and drooling all over the fabric, almost ripping through it with just how hard he is, “you look so good like this”

he grunts, blush growing across his cheeks, a deep, deep crimson, turning his head to avoid your gaze, avoid your phone brightly flashing, recording him.

“so hard too, aw” mumuring, you move closer, recording every detail of how he bulges through the set you so perfectly picked out for him. the pink complementing his tanned skin so well, truly a work of art “touch yourself for me”

another grunt escapes his lips, and he’s fidgeting, dragging his balls against the bed, rutting like a fucking dog, pulling at the ropes that hold and confine him, caging him against himself, “need your ..”

“yeah, need what?” you prompt with a smile, watching through your screen how he struggles to say it, pouting as his brows furrow up.

“need your help”

theres a wicked little glint in your eyes, pulling back at the stretchy band of the pretty underwear, letting go so it snaps back against the sensitive underside of his thick cock, making him whine, his broad body shaking and twitching, muscles clenching up.

humming, you bring your palm to his face, telling him to lick, and he listens, immediately.

licking a long stripe up your warm palm, but oh, he gets carried away. stretching to wrap his scarred lips around your fingers, bobbing his head up and down, drool dripping down from around his pursed lips, letting his tongue lay flat. “look at you, so eager”

he comes off with a pop, smirking because he knows you love when he’s so good like this for you.

you press your slick fingers against his covered perky nipples, watching as he twitched, before moving to stoke him through the pretty lingerie, “don’t fu—fucking tease”

you ignore him, let him get away with the little back talk because he just looks toooo cute, eyes all big, looking up into the flash of the camera, leaking through the lingerie like such a pretty boy. all for you.

you flick your wrist faster, leaning to spit on his clothed cock, sending thousands of shivers up the nerves on his spine, making him croon, his ass raising up off the bed to buck into your palms, giving the camera such a good show.

“gonna cum, shit— i’m so close. fuck— please”

he’s babbling, his voice all high and whiney.

“mhm go ahead, baby”

with a final, desperate thrust, he’s shooting against the fabric, babbling your name as it oozes through making a sticky little mess before you’re leaning down to lap at his clad tip. to clean him up.

then you come off him, stopping the video. and tojis looking up at you through glassy eyes as you press against your phone, smiling.

“what— hah, what are you doing”

“sending it to shiu”

[madschiavelique]

Please please please please

I beg for Yandere!Peter x reader x Yandere!Miguel

Where Miguel ties us down, they both fuck us senseless, and then Peter takes care of our rope burns and cleaning us up physically while Miguel brings the supplies for said care and snacks for after, and I feel like I'm getting too specific with my request but feel free to do whatever! 💛✨

OMG YESSS dw anon i love when i get specific requests !!

pairing : miguel o'hara x reader x peter b parker summary : after tying you down and fucking you senseless, Miguel and Peter take care of you content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, harddom!miguel, softdom!peter, sub!reader, ropes, pnv sex, double penetration, praise kink, degradation kink, choke kink, no use of Y/N word count : 1,4k tag list : @fandom-ash

"Look at you, all naked and tied up just for us. What should we do with you first?" smiled Peter.

The lines of rope tightening your body prevented you from making any movement to get out of the situation. Your legs were folded and bound, Miguel caressing the skin of your sensitive thighs following your many orgasms that evening.

"You look kind of cute all tied up like that, like a present just for us." approved Peter against your ear, having just finished tying your arms together behind your back.

Miguel came to kiss your lips, his hand moving up to your inner thighs as Peter kissed your shoulders. His fingers reached your wet folds, brushing your still-sensitive clit from your previous highs in such a delicious way that you closed your thighs over his hand.

"Stop wiggling around," Miguel warned. "Spread your legs."

You obeyed, and to prevent this from happening again, Peter gently came and grabbed your knees to bring them closer against your breasts.

"All spread out like that..." he said in a honeyed tone against your ear, "you should see how good you look right now."

Miguel returned to caressing you, kissing your cheek as he slipped his first finger inside you, your moans starting. The two of them kissed your skin, marking it gently, caressing it with their hands as tenderly as firmly.

Miguel added a second finger, kissing the crook of your neck as Peter took your chin to turn your head and kiss your lips, reveling in every sound you made.

"So fucking wet, nena," Miguel murmured as he curved his fingers inside you, touching the perfect spot.

You felt Peter's cock in your back, against your bound hands, starting to slowly move back and forth against the skin of them. Miguel brought his against you, rubbing against your clit and your lips, covering himself with you as he bit your chin gently.

Your legs spread and folded up, pressing your cunt between them in a most adorable way, Miguel only pushing his tip between your lips and never going any further. You wiggled slightly, the urge in your lower belly to be filled.

The emptiness was becoming too unpleasant, your walls enveloping nothing but themselves as you tried to push your pelvis against him and make him sink into you.

"Don't be impatient, or you'll get nothing," Miguel advised, grabbing your thigh and immobilizing you.

You breathed softly, regaining yourself and stopping the movements of your hips.

"Come on bunny, just one last time, okay?" encouraged Peter.

Miguel filled you at last, slowly sinking his full length, letting out a low groan contrasting with the almost plaintive moan that pierced your lips.

"So tight," he said with a sigh against your neck.

You felt Peter still humping behind you, and changed the position of your hands, wrapping them around him as you could, just right.

"This feels so good angel, you're so good for us," he whispered against your ear, gently kissing your skin.

Miguel began to move inside you, not in a slow, gentle rhythm. Slow rhythms weren't really his strong point, but he became a master of them whenever he was teasing and edging you.

The position you were in gave you the impression that he was sinking even deeper into you, touching the perfect places, filling you perfectly as you had so longed. Peter was also slightly accelerating the rhythm between your fingers.

"Pet', wanna get a taste?" offered Miguel.

He grabbed your buttocks, elevating you slightly as he kept you encircled around him, a little moan almost of surprise filling you.

"Hmm," sighed Peter, caressing your hands as he gently released himself from their embrace, "You can take another, can't you bunny?" he kissed the skin of your nape, coming to rest against Miguel's cock, "We're both dying to be inside you."

Miguel looked into your slightly worried eyes, the hardness of his gaze breaking slightly as if to say "it'll be okay."

You gave a little nod, and he chuckled before glancing at Peter and giving him a wink. He grabbed the lub for good measure and applied it over you and their two cocks, because the last thing in the world either of them wanted was to hurt you.

You felt Peter's dick press against Miguel's, and, gently, insert itself into you. You inhaled sharply as you tried to relax, both of them kissing your cheeks and stroking your hair, encouraging you.

Impossible not to feel completely full, the sensation of being so full and of them touching all the right places with both of their cocks in you was tearing you apart in the most sublime way.

"You're doing such a good job for us," Peter kissed as he began a slow back-and-forth inside you, making you moan loudly.

Both of them were in you, touching all of you, and both of them grunted and sighed as they felt your warmth around them as much as their own skin touching.

The two of them began a slow rhythm, wringing a moan from every thrust from your lips. One of Peter's hands came to take your breast in hand, playing with your nipple, while his other laced itself through your hair to pull it back.

You were arched between their two warm bodies and covered in a film of sweat, the movements they made in you gradually tightening the knot that was being created in your belly.

"Had i known you were gonna take it like a good little bitch i would have brought you a collar," Miguel growled as he gripped your throat in his hand, watching the mess they'd both made of you, "but I guess my hand will have to do for now."

And he pressed gently, little stars bursting in your eyes and belly.

The burn of the strings was beginning to tingle your skin under the sweat of your body. Miguel had tightened slightly too hard perhaps, the material pressing against your flesh and bulging it between each separation.

But it was another sensation that was taking over your mind. Their rhythm quickened, and soon you felt the orgasm coming, your breath rushing and your voice rising in pitch.

Peter brought his hand down to your clit, caressing it as he moaned against your ear: "Come for us, angel."

And you waited no longer, a moan rising from the depths of your being as a sun-warm current of electricity coursed through you. Miguel and Peter grunted in unison as your walls clenched tightly around them.

Your thighs began to tremble as you let your head fall back on Peter's shoulder. Their hands roamed your body with tenderness, kissing your skin, drinking from it, cajoling you.

"You did so good," Peter murmured.

When the power of your orgasm had subsided, they delicately pulled out of you, beginning to undo your ropes.

Miguel's watchful eyes took in the marks left by the ropes, which matched those they'd made with their lips. They laid you down gently on the mattress, Miguel heading for the bathroom.

Peter was on your side, stroking your hair. You looked down at your arms and legs, bringing your fingers to one of the straight lines that had been left on your skin. You breathed in through your teeth as you touched it and immediately removed your hand from your skin, frowning.

"Shh," said Peter, coming to kiss your temple, "Let us take care of it."

You smiled softly, Miguel returning to the room with some aloe vera, which he handed to Peter. As Peter applied it to his fingers, Miguel kissed your lips softly:

"Tell me your cravings, whatever you want, you've earned it," he said, caressing your cheek.

You smiled wider, a slight shiver of surprise and breath running through you as Peter began to apply the relief to your skin.

You then named the snack you wanted most, and Miguel kissed you one last time before getting up again to look for what you wanted.

Peter caressed your skin with tenderness, taking great care to apply the aloe vera to every trace, kissing them all individually with warm tenderness before the coolness of the viscous lotion replaced the feeling.

Miguel returned again with the snacks and clean clothes for each of you, and Peter said to him without looking away from the marks:

"I think next time we should use our own webs."

Miguel raised an eyebrow in interest. When the application was finished, they helped you get dressed before they both lay down, letting you lie on top of them as you happily ate your snack.

Hours of cuddling followed.

[goodomensjail]

GOOD OMENS SPOILERS BELOW if you reblog it TAG IT DAMMIT. Entire Job Sequence to the Best of my inebriated (thank you Bulleit Bourbon for sponsoring) memory:

It was not entirely clear at the  Brooklyn screening when episode 1 ended; there were no end credits but i think its fairly obvious that Job flashback is the cold open of Episode 2 because the entire audience was a bit surprised when Opening Credits played again right after the first Job scene. 

Also note that the Job story is INTERCUT at apparently key moments of the main/present day plot, but it will take a second viewing for me to see exactly what they were going for/getting at. So HERE i am going to try and write the Job minisode IN ORDER without the cuts to present day because it will help my memory. 

We open on Bearded (yes that bearded) Crowley about to sacrifice a herd of goats. (note that none of the dialogue is exact, even if i put it in quotes, its just what i can recall; the dialogue throughout is delightful and funny and theres no way i can remember it all nor would it be worth it without the performances). 

Aziraphale appears in a golden light from the sky in a “stay thy hand, demon!” type way, dramatic and biblical, before he realizes “o its just you Crawley”; Aziraphale says they have not seen one another since “the flood”. 

Crowley shows Aziraphale he has “a permit” to torment Job, God’s favorite human, because Satan and God have a bet to see if Job will curse God. Aziraphale is not happy. He takes the permit to heaven to show the Archangels who delightedly tell him YES, God is allowing blameless and good Job to be tormented by demons in a bet with Satan, but ITS OKAY because of course God will win the bet and reward Job three fold!

Aziraphale is at first glad, then stunned to hear that heaven does NOT intend to raise Job’s children from the dead, however. Job’s wife Sitis will have 7 NEW CHILDREN! Yay! (this is cute as well because Aziraphale appears to be the only angel who understands human birth and that maybe Sitis doesn't want to be pregnant and give birth 7 more times? as a mom with natural births i appreciate this, neil gaiman. the archangels are oblivious to this... they just think thats what humans do: they breed and multiply). 

As Crowley in stomping through Job’s courtyard to find his three children, Aziraphale appears to reason with him. Aziraphale appeals to knowing that Crowley doesn't want to harm Job’s children because he knew him as an Angel, to which Crowley is not impressed; he is not an angel anymore. So instead, Aziraphale pivots to “i know you” and references the flood and how Crowley was shocked that God intended to kill the children. Crowley tells Aziraphale, “you do not know me”. 

And then the pigeons in the courtyard start baa-ing. Aziraphale waves his hand and the pigeons transform into a herd of goats....Crowley didn't kill them at all, he hid them away. Aziraphale looks at Crowley smugly. 

They meet the three children of Job, Ty Tennant plays a flirtatious Ennon who comes on a bit to Aziraphale. Aziraphale explains they are in danger, but the kids are not impressed because “don't you know our father? Job? he is God’s favorite”. Crowley transports all of them to the basement while a storm rages and destroys the home above; Aziraphale realizes Crowley always intended to get to the kids first and protect them from the destruction. 

While they wait out the storm, Crowley tempts Aziraphale into eating human food for the first time. Aziraphale resists at first, but we then cut to him DIGGIN IN FORACIOUSLY to some meat, while a smiling Crowley lounges nearby watching him. The kids are annoying them both, and at some point Crowley turns them all into three small lizards. The two discuss how Crowley is not really bad and doesnt really listen to hell, and Aziraphale remarks it must be lonely living as Crowley does. Crowley tell him “not really”

God wins the bet, and give some rambling messages to Job as a prophet (which he doesn't understand or appreciate, he and Sitis just want to know where the children are). The angels, with Aziraphale in tow, arrive to announce Job will be rewarded with three times wealth, and NEW CHILDREN! Job and Sitis are horrified. 

Crowley bursts in; none of the angels recognize him, he claims to be a human cobbler (its a pun for some ancient city dont worry about it) and Aziraphale jumps in to call him DOCTOR, a famous obstetrician who delivers babies. The archangels have no idea where babies come from... Aziraphale flatters Gabriel by saying well YOU were there when Eve was “born” youve seen it before. 

Crowley understand the cue, and pretends to “deliver” Job and Sitis’ new children by having Sitis pull three ribs out of Job (the animal ribs from the meat Aziraphale was eating) and transforms them into three children (the lizards hidden in Jobs robes turn into his three children).

Michael is suspicious because arent humans supposed to have “babies”, but Aziraphale cues Gabriel to tell them about Eve being fully grown. The kids are confused and almost give away the bit, but Job and Sitis play along. Gabriel turns to Aziraphale and point blank asks : “Are these their old children?” to which a PAINED Aziraphale after a look to Crowley LIES to the angels and says “no these are their new children”

We cut to Aziraphale from afar and behind (the ocean and rock shot) and Crowley comes to join him. Aziraphale is crying. (DIALOGUE THAT FOLLOWS IS NO ACCURATE ITS THE GIST)

A: “Im ready for you to take me”

C:”Take you where?” or “Where are we going” something to that effect, he is amused in a bittersweet way

A: “I lied to the archangels and foiled the plans of God. Im ready to go to hell with you”

C: amused in such a kind way, tells him something to the effect of “Youre not going to hell. I wont tell if you wont”

A: sitting on the rock next to Crowley, still teary, “How can i keep on obeying heaven?”

C: “You will take it as far as you can take it, and youll do it your way when you need”

A: “You said it wasnt lonely”

C: “I’m a demon. I lied”

Gorgeous scene of them sitting together on the rock and cut to black 

[lilykatelyn-blog]

Nights Like This

Pairing: Seungmin x reader. Genre: angst? Idek, please tell me if you want me to redo it in a diff genre 😭 I only heard break ups and all. Song: Nights Like This - Kehlani (feat. Ty Dollar $ign). tag: @sxnset-angel

you act like you need remindin’, tryin’ to do it over, bring it back, and rewind it.

You know you shouldn’t, but you just couldn’t help it. The wine touched your lips as you stared at the wilted roses on your kitchen counter.

thought you was mine, but you decided to be with him, though.

You stared at your phone, the most dangerous tool near you. You thought you two were forever, but he seemed to have different plans. He took your feelings and threw them out the window as if they were garbage. He has your heart though, always has, always will. You picked the phone up, clicking on his contact, labeled ‘Seung 🐶’. You held your thumb over the call button.

if I called, would you pick it up?

All the lies, everything. All of it was just a ploy to stop spending time with you in hopes you would break up with him first. Why? Why did he do it? He led you on and got your hopes so high.

just ‘gon get my hopes high, girl.

This keeps happening. You call, make up for a few hours, he comes over, you have sex, drink wine, and he leaves with a pathetic message saying ‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’

On some nights like this, I just want to text you, but for what?

It’s always the cute ones. You put your phone off and pour the rest of the wine down the drain, ignoring his ‘I miss you.’ text. You got his contact and deleted it, blocking the number and turning your phone off. You knew that in your 3rd drawer you had his number, you knew you’d use it again and call him up tomorrow night, but tonight you deserved peace. You’d always have time tomorrow.

On some nights like this, shorty, I can’t help but think of us. On some nights like this, I just want to text you, but for what?

[thewanderer-000]

Grandpa

Music Sunday

Tagged by @cassietrn @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @simplegenius042 I can't remember who has tagged me in a music thing, this was something I wrote that had music kinda involved. My severe ADHD itdn't focused at the moment lol or hasn't been focused for a long while, actually it's a bit of a roller-coaster in the creative department lol

Deputy Penelope Thompson sat tying her shoe getting ready to leave after her one of her many flings with Jacob. Penelope couldn't help it but hum the song she had stuck in her head, Jacob looked at her wondering what was the song. It sounded familiar but he couldn't place it for the life of him, definitely wasn't something he's heard in long, long time.

"Did daddies really never go away?

Whoa, whoa, grandpa, tell me 'bout the good old days

Whoa, whoa, grandpa, tell me 'bout the good old days" Penelope sang as she fastened her bullet proof vest, she heard me roll on to my side to hear her better.

"Hm, what is that?" I asked, Penelope looked confused like she forgot what she was singing. She pulled a t-shirt over covering her vest, Pen looked around my office room like she'd find the name here. Cute, she's kinda forgetful.

"I don't remember the name but the tune and some lyrics are in my head at the moment" she says have finally given up on remembering the song and artist.

"Pen, you know you looked cute trying to find the answer in this room, still waking up angel" I tease, she gave an eye roll and turned away.

"Whatever, big talk from a man sitting naked in bed still" I swat at her ass, Penelope giggled, I pulled her by the pants pocket to sit on my bed.

"How about you sing more of that song, well, what you remember?" She looked at me annoyed but also like she was trying to focus on the lyrics.

"Uh, that's all I remember, unfortunately" Penelope assured me with a little smirk on her lips, lips that I wanted to kiss, so I did. She immediately pulled away.

"I have to go, Eli has me busy with the resistance, remember" I gather her in my arms and nod no as I continue to keep her.

"Mmm, Jacob. Mmm-I, mm-have-to-mmm-Ja-" I have her on my lap and she doesn't try to leave again, I have her where I want. Til she pulled away quickly with a little excited look on her face as she nestled into me.

"Hey, what-"

"It's a Judds song, uh- Grandpa! You don'tknow how long that was plaguing me not remembering the artist and song" she said happily, relief on her face.

"Do you fall in love and stay?" I sing remembering that one part of the song, Penelope rolled her eyes and laughed.

"Shut up. You're cute, you know that?" She giggled and kissed my forehead and tried to leave again.

"Not happening. I worked so hard and come to find out I had time to lay back for a day or so you are staying here" I say holding her to me, she laughed and lay against me.

"Oh, well if that's how I get a naked Jacob why not say sooner" she said slipping her hands under her clothes to take off her bullet proof vest. I let her then she got it off and tossed it away, and got comfortable with me.

"Hm, you like this old naked bod?" I question, Penelope softly smacked my arm, and made a noise that I chuckled at.

"Don't say a derogatory word about my babe" she said and looked at me with little angry eyes, and I laughed at her cute face.

"You're sweet on me, I think too long in this shit pit of a bunker may have warped your lovely brain there darlin'" I teased, and she bite me but it was hot, so I slap her beautiful butt, she stopped to laugh.

"I don't think so" she just kissed my face a moment and lay back down, cuddling me, enjoying our time together.

"But I do have to go get someone to cover my shift if I'm going to be here with you, instead of occupying the shooting range" I sigh but smile and release Penelope, but not before trying to keep her on top of me. She kisses my forehead, her hands holding me still and then push me into the bed as she jumps off me.

"I'll be back Big Daddy Jake Cakes" Penelope says casually before she leaves my room making my face & ears hot and beet red. This woman will be the death of me, but I can't wait for her to get back.

[zhouxiangs]

10 BL Boys I Want Carnally

or as close to that as i can get, tagged by @bunnakit !

i had to look deep in my soul and tumblr gifs for this so please enjoy the boys, under a cut to keep the mystery alive for two more seconds

i am very ace so the concept is nebulous, let's just say i feel some type of way... and if you see me call these men my sons it's bc they are, ty for your time <3 also the order is kinda eehhhh general idea, i don't actually keep a mental list it took me hours to make this one 😭

10. pete (kiss me again/dark blue kiss)

do not ask me why idk either... there's just Something i can't explain. also it was between him and knock from together with me so i'm choosing the one that committed less crimes, anyway *holds him up like a potato* i just think he's neat

9. vegas (kinnporsche)

my little meow meow,, my explanation for most of these is just "do i not have eyes", but some (like vegas) are special jsjs in his case kp was the first thai bl i watched, as soon as he became remotely relevant i was obsessed with him and then a rewatch made me finally fall into thai bl as a whole so... thank you for your service

8. gong gil (the king and the clown)

my baby my darling my angel and the reason i even know about lee joongi, the actor i've been following the longest that i remember. i haven't watched tkatk in a while so i don't remember the details that well but i've always loved him, pretty sure he's my first bl boy too

7. xie'er (word of honor)

does he count? is this cheating? idc he's staying either way, MY XIE'ER 😭 will never get over him or his killer eyeliner

6. gaipa (moonlight chicken)

possibly the cutest 30yo man out there, that alone endeared me to him but also the way he is with his mother is just so 🥺 he's so special to me (also the fact that he's 30 AND cute as heck it's just so personal to me)

5. wen (moonlight chicken)

god i wish i could explain what he DOES TO MY BRAIN. some of it is the mix effect but i was normal about mix before wen so... he's so beautiful so magnetic i want to bite him

4. black (not me)

listen- he's my lil murder raccoon i know there's plenty of reasons for him to be as angry as he is for the 90% of his screen time and they're all sad but he's just so attractive like that (even though i'm more of a white girlie most of the time)

3. karan (cherry magic th)

i've only had him for two eps but if anything happened to him i would kill everyone in this room and then myself, etc. he's perfect and a nerd and i would love him for any of those two things alone, but they're combined into such a gentle beautiful (inside and out) and sensitive character i jsut love him so much

2. way (pit babe)

so i am definitely not babe, here supporting way's rights and wrongs from day 1. is he pretty? yes. is he evil? quite possibly. do i still want him? also yes. he hasn't touched me so pretty sure his big sad eyes are doing something. to me.

1. sand (only friends)

The Only Man, which is how my non bl friends know him bc i've apparently called him 'the only man i would like if i liked men' more than once ? HIM

special entry: tharn (the sign), yeah this one is definitely cheating

(using the only gif i've made of him so far which isn't great for this but...)

he's so tiny and efficient... like a fiat 500

if you see this and want to do it consider yourself tagged by me <3

[celestie0]

Hi ellie sweetie im so sorry abt that anon and that u receive that kind of pressure regularly

You and your mutual did not deserve that bullshit

If you dont mind tagging their account then id like to check it out im sure their a very talented writer just like you

You’ve built this platform for yourself and us and im very proud of you seriously I find it incredible what you do because again i’ve sent an ask previously about how much I adore kickoff it’s literally become the love of my life rn and it hurts that it’s not published bc obviously I want to have my favourite book displayed on a shelf

I’m so grateful that I discovered this gem (and you too 😘) meanwhile your just another human being somewhere else in the world living your own life and choosing to share your work with us for free and that’s not something that should be taken for granted so ty bby for giving us your time and gracing us with your immaculate brain (*smooches* 🧠)

anyway it was probably just some bratty little 13 year olds sending those kinds of asks because they haven’t yet figured out that the world doesn’t revolve around them so please don’t let it get to you

Tbh I was wondering why you hadn’t been responding to asks very recently but only because interacting with you has become a cute little part of my day so I was just a little bummed to not hear from you

Mainly I just panicked that I’d accidentally been blocked or something lol

and ofc I’ve been waiting for chapter 11 of kickoff and also the ihm update as well and I’m really excited for that but you take your time love it’s your precious work

hi babe!! i saw your follow up ask too and yes indeed my mutual is the one that writes symptoms & causes!! @/lostfracturess <3 HIGHLY RECOMMEND THE SERIES IT’s one of my FAVE fics ever!!

omg idk why but u saying you are proud of me hit me in my titty 😭💕 in like a wholesome way LOL…yea these entitled anons can make us feel like slaves sometimes but thank you for giving me a feeling of being proud of my platform i’ve built n my works too :”) that’s so sweet. and PLS tysm for the love for kickoff too aaa <33

it’s my pleasure to share my works w my lovely readers like you :”) it’s hard to stay positive w hate n negtivity but i remind myself most of my readers are literally walking angels on earth so PLEASE!! i should be thanking YOU!!

and hahah yes darling also referring to your follow up ask, i was just a lil busy on vacation so i’ve been hella behind on asks 💀 sorry to cause any concern!! i’m so happy to hear interacting w me is a cute part of your day pls 😭💕 you’re adorable

i’m so glad you’re looking forward to my updates bb <3 so sorry this ask took me a while to respomd to but i had such a huge smile on my face when i read it for the first tiem :”) sm love from me <33

[yesloulou]

hi guys i made an

F1 gif maker ask game!!! 💖

Which drivers do you mainly make gifs for? please share one gif you've made of each :) daniel sharl and max

Out of the above (if more than 1), who's your fav to make gifs for and why 😈 atm it's daniel bc sometimes you get him in tailored suits w gold chains sometimes you get him in party shirts and slutty shorts sometimes you get him in cute fluffy sweat sets sometimes you get him in race suits accentuating his birthing hips it's all just very fun 😉

Link the fav gif set you've made and tell me a lil about it: this very pissed off fallen angel sharl i mean technically it's only one gif but it's the hottest ive seen him

Link your fav gif set from another creator: @norstappen's dts max it was such a cool shot of max emerging from the dark. the coloring and sharpening here literally had me go 😳 holy shit. so well executed

Off the top of your head!! tell me about the most memorable tag you've received recently: i asked what did they say to daniel wrong answers only and @formulahs said #did you know the devil pulls mens hairlines back 5 centimeters every time they say they dont read the news (iconic 😭)

Which f1 media source (post race interviews, sf full accesses, no brakes, sharl's vlogs, tiktoks, etc) is your fav to make gifs from? as much as i hate mclaren... mclaren unboxed. but honestly as long as it's 2160p 4k i'll take anything

tag someone else!! @dutchgp @iguessricciardo @screwderia @ricciardo-is-thriving @steadykoalamentality @danthropologie @nobrakes @tangledlove @norstappen @princemick @yuleneverwalkalone @leclercpiastri @dr3smile @userhamilton (only if you want to ofc!!)

(ok this is my first time making ask games hope this works!! ty for reading and again dw if you don't want to 😌 also if you're an f1 gif maker and you're reading this you're like actually automatically tagged by me soz 🪤)

[mourambles]

AUUUGHH TYSM MAYO!!!! DOUBLE THANKS FOR THE EXCUSE TO GUSH HEHE….. *rubbing my hands together devilishly*

Hotaru makes her first real “friend” in the agency when she meets Naomi! They both help each other out a lot around the office, particularly on Naomi’s part when Hotaru joins missions. Hotaru always literally drops to her knees to thank her for this lol, just on the ground like “THANK YOU NAOMI YOU ARE MY ANGEL 😭😭🙏 HOW CAN I EVER REPAY YOUUU” (the answer is always a trip to the cafe for a little treat, and sometimes Junichiro joins them :3 )

I also imagine she’s pretty close with Yosano. Idk why but I can see them discussing literature together! They talk about it while doing the grocery shopping together! It’s sort of a little tradition of theirs…. :3c

Dazai she already knows, not just because of Kunikida’s excessive complaining, but because they’ve actually ran into each other before! Usually when she’s with Kunikida. Dazai would just appear randomly like “heeyy it’s the Kunikidas! I was just on my way to jump off a bridge but we should all totally go get ice cream!”

^She thinks he’s a little weird but she knows he’s actually super valuable to the agency, so she respects him anyway

Her relationship with Kunikida is kinda silly; she’s super nice to everyone but him lol (sibling moment). And he definitely returns the favor…

Kunikida is also the only one who tries to stop her from coming on missions (because 1. she’s not technically an agent (yet 😈) and 2. big brother protectiveness). Everyone else is always cool with her tagging along; they’re even grateful for the extra help!

And ofc she thinks Ranpo is the coolest ever!! She gets super shy around him though, so they don’t really interact a lot at first. But he thinks it’s cute 😌 just like her WHO SAID THAT

Ermm I think that’s it for her relationships within the agency!! She’s pretty normal about everyone else (like Kenji, Junichiro, Atsushi, etc), meaning she’s just nice to them and they’re nice back :) she’s pretty well-liked, and she doesn’t hate anyone (in the agency at least….)

TY AGAIN FOR THE FREE GUSH TICKET MAYO!!! 💖💖💖 And if you do make a bsd oc you GOTTA let me know so they can be friends *rubbing my hands together devilishly again*

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Criss Angel Is a Douche Bag

Welcome to “Abracadabra or Whatever: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

Up today, s4e12: Criss Angel Is a Douche Bag.

“The boys investigate a series of strange deaths at a magic (as in tricks and shows) convention, and they may have met their matches in three seasoned and weathered and jaded and not-to-be-underestimated veteran magicians. It turns out that one of the trio of old friends has discovered Real Magic and is using it in a bid for immortality. Will his friends choose living forever with him or to doing the Right Thing? LOTS of parallels here between the story of the three magicians and our two brothers, weighing lifestyle choices and doing what is right vs what is easy, dying young while fighting the fight or trying for a long life. Maaaaybe the writers of the last episode should have revisited this one? *sigh*”

Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here. Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

[and we begin:]

Lor:

Lance needs to drown in his drink

Mace:

Yep

Mace:

that is the mayor of NYC, sir. Show some respect

Lor:

lol

Lor:

okay, the dude on stage *is* a jerk but it's not because of his eyeliner. his eyeliner is lovely

Mace:

Ha!

Lor:

byyyye, Lance

Mace:

So sad

Lor:

Tears in my beer

Mace:

snork

Mace:

he may be a douchebag but he’s a cute one

Lor:

right?

Lor:

omg Dean's eyebrows. and then Sam's face!

Mace:

YES

Mace:

“It was a phase” yeah, right, Sammy. It’s okay - own up to your hobby

Lor:

yeah, it's okay, Sammy, we won't judge. show us your tricks

Lor:

I love that Dean is OFFENDED

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

oh, Lance's name is Vance. improves nothing

Mace:

I see no difference

Lor:

exactly

Mace:

Dean fits right in with the old dudes

Lor:

aww, Dean and the old dude

Mace:

adorable

Lor:

HAHAHAHA

Mace:

YES

Lor:

did they just send him to nowhere?

Mace:

of course not they’re good dudes

Mace:

he’s gonna touch something

Lor:

always

Lor:

oh wait is it the BDSM dude?

Lor:

yep

Mace:

oh has there been a misunderstanding, Dean? Has there?

Lor:

yes HAS THERE?

Lor:

the only misunderstanding is that that's not the Dom he wants

Mace:

omg sam and those rolled sleeves

Lor:

YES

Lor:

and now his hands in his pocketsesss

Mace:

YES

Lor:

aw, lookit the Lying Brothers

Mace:

they’re just scamps

Lor:

"we con people for a living, son"

Mace:

YAS

Mace:

“rings and doves and…rings”

Mace:

smooth, Dean. Smooth

Lor:

aw, he's still all flustered. not on his game

Lor:

omg anytime they do a hovering inanimate object like this is just makes me laugh

Mace:

snork

Lor:

oh hello Dean's hands with the ring

Mace:

YES

Lor:

oh boys

Mace:

ooof, Dean “I hope I die before I get old"

Lor:

someone please hold him

Lor:

ooof the way he says "Sammy"

Mace:

yeah

Lor:

omg Sam cross your arms like that more often please

Mace:

YES

Lor:

omg the peering around the corner together

Mace:

YES

Lor:

um, boys

Lor:

do they really think tying him up is going keep him?

Mace:

snork

Lor:

"guess we shoulda seen that one coming" correct, Dean

Mace:

yep

Mace:

i love the parallels between these old magic “brothers”

Mace:

and sam and dean

Lor:

YES

Lor:

"everything he owns is in this room"

Lor:

well that resonates with the boys

Mace:

yep

Mace:

there are parallels between what Sammy’s doing with Ruby here, too, and Dean’s sense of betrayal

Lor:

YES

Mace:

Fuck 932

Mace:

“what’s the price tag on immortality”

Lor:

ALWAYS

Lor:

omg Cocoon

Mace:

HA

Lor:

maybe someone could cut down that one stranger?!

Lor:

THANK you

Mace:

HA

Mace:

he’s fine

Lor:

it's good to know that he can strangle for minutes and be just fine but a little rebar to the back noooooo

Mace:

well, he may have had some conditioning with the minor strangling earlier in the week...

Lor:

snork

Lor:

the parallel stick is out again

Mace:

yep

Lor:

oh Sammy don't reject Dean's offer to get a beer sads

Mace:

right?

Mace:

ooooof

Lor:

man that was another really good fuck 327 right there

Mace:

YEP

[reinventboy]

2, 11, 17, and 28 for the asks! love u senseless 🤍📮💌

hey kendall!! love you extensively 💌🤍🍓

2. pepsi box blue or cheetos bag orange?

pepsi box blue for sure, i don’t like pepsi but the color blue? so good

11. bass or drums?

hmmm ok, i’m gonna go with bass, i love drums but bass and just guitars in general have my heart <3 like i remember getting my first acoustic guitar when i was a kid from this shitty little pawn shop with money i had saved up and i was so ecstatic

17. an earliest obsession you remember?

from ages like 6-11 i was simultaneously obsessed with tim burton movies (and subsequently johnny depp and winona ryder) and also hello kitty, it was a really juxtaposing 6 years lmao like any time i was given a gift, for the longest time it was either tim burton/johnny depp or hello kitty related

28. an unusual song that’s your favorite?

this is such a fun question, ok, i think it has to be feed my ego or mom jeans by mickey darling. their lyrics are just so ??? sometimes and it’s so great, oh and the samples they use are so funny, especially the ones in feed my ego in the beginning and end

[bloomingforerza]

Erza Scarlet and Mirajane Strauss NSFW head cannons

note from bloom: hiii!! thanks for the love i’ve been getting. after i upload these i’m going to start a levi x reader oneshot!! stay tuned for that this weekend :)

TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ PLS??? NSFW, i stan soft dom erza, strap ons, toys of all kinds, bdsm, degradation, praise, pet names, mira w aftercare, hard dom mira, shibari, overstimulation, edging, fuck does this list end, slight ass play (erza), hair pulling, cunnilingus, lots of teasing, yeahh i think that might be it

Erza Scarlet

Erza can be a switch, I feel like

She definitely has a competition kink though. However, this only applies to you.

She/d definitely enjoy sparring with you, and most times she’d win. I mean, it’s not easy to beat Erza in a swordfight. This usually led you both to being absolutely needy for each other.

When she’d win, the absolute passion she showed you in her dominance was indescribable. Erza loved to make you say her name.

She’d definitely like to use things like vibrators on you, but on extra hard days, Erza might just pull out the strap on. She loves watching you writhe underneath her, having you at her mercy.

She’ would enjoy calling you sweet names like princess and angel.

“Princess, are you going to cum? Look at me, what’s my name?”

She loves to tease you. She’ll pull your hair, bite your neck, and even leave a hickey or two. Erza loves to leave marks on you. You’re hers.

But when you do when, she eats up your attention.

Erza loves to be praised. She loves when you tell her how good she’s taking it.

Erza would definitely be the whiney sub. She’d love when you edged her, and you’d make her beg for it. Only to have to repeat the process of bringing her to her climax, and rip it out of her grasp.

She’s very needy when she subs, she loves using butt plugs and she loves when you spank her.

She likes when you sit on her face as well. You’d been topping her, you were soaking and finally needed relief. “I’m going to sit on your face now, so be a good girl and make me cum if you want me to fuck you.”

She’d whine and obey, of course. And she’d get her promised reward.

Sex with Erza was always fun yet passionate.

Mirajane Strauss

Mira is a dom and there’s no questioning it. She takes so much shit from her guildmates all day, hiding it behind a smile.

But when she comes home with you, it’s not the same Mira.

She’s super kinky. Mira would love to tease you for hours before actually even touching you where you want her to.

She’s definitely into shibari. I can see her tying you up, edging you with a vibrator.

I think Mira would be into all kinds of BDSM, from whipping to blindfolding to slapping you across your pretty face, she wants to ruin you and make you hers.

She’d also be into calling you petnames. She’d like to call you baby, flower and missy when she thinks you’re out of line.

She’s the queen of degrading you. She’ll have you all tied up, writhing against her fingers, while she fucks you with her strap on.

“Oh, aren’t you cute. You really think I’m going to just let you cum? Such a thoughtless, dumb baby. You’re going to have to try harder.

Super having you eat her out. But believe me, she is not letting up her hold on you. She’s telling you what to do the entire time.

And if you test her, she’s going to punish you.

If you make her cum after she tells you not to, god won’t even be able to save you. She’ll overstimulate her for hours, and will not stop until you’ve been reduced to silent screams and violent tremurs.

But, don’t even think about trying to edge her without her permission. The one time you tried to edge her, she edged you for 5 hours straight. After that, you didn’t dare to try it again.

But as frightening as she can be between the sheets, she’s also super sweet and doting afterwards.

She’s so big into aftercare, she knows shes rough and likes to take her frustrations out on you, she needs you to know she loves you so much.

Sex with Mirajane is rough but sensational, you feel alive and regenerated afterwards.

[1-800-iluvhockey]

ig edit of Jack with Luke’s childhood bestie?

oooooh this one is just going to be fun :-)

let the chaos begin!

( Again, this is a work of fiction and these pictures are not mine! Y/n & Luke are sophomores and she is going to school in NJ! & Jack is 21 with the devs. skylar st. james & taylor andersen are her high school girl best friends!! )

liked by @elblue06 , @tysmith24 , @nicohischier & others

jackhughes86 - been in love with you since you hit moose with a mini stick when you were four and I was six❤️🏒 #instaofficial

tagged @/ yourusername

view top comments

lhughes_06 - what in the hell is this ?!

quinnhughes_ - oh my god no way

elblue06 - EEK it’s happening!!!!

dawsonmercer - took you long enough man!

tysmith24 - now I’m the certified third wheel until luke moves up to nj 🤠

lhughes_06 - NO THIRD WHEELING BECAUSE THIS ISNT HAPPENING

trevorzegras - ohhhh jacky you’re in trouble !! 😆

_alexturcotte - awe I remember when you never shut up about her when —

↳ jackhughes86 - HUSH TURCS !!

yourusername - oh you are so telling me later ;)

↳ jackhughes86 - never 😉

↳ lhughes_06 - YOURE RIGHT, NEVER !!!

liked by @elblue06 , @_alexturcotte , @skylarstjames & others

yourusername - just how fast the night changes <3 swipe to see a throwback to the NTDP days (because baby pictures were just too cute and I didn’t want to share)

I love you jack rowden, it’s always been you !!

tagged @/ jackhughes86

view top comments

jackhughes86 - just wanna pick you up and never let you go! here’s to many more years with you (and maybe a last name change in the future?)

↳ elblue06 - @jackhughes86 MY HEART !! ^^ & @yourusername this is just the best! We are all very happy for you both! ❤️

lhughes_06 - I am not @elblue06 !!! Y/N ANSWER YOUR PHONE

quinnhughes_ - dukes needs to take a chill pill because we all knew it was coming lol

skylarstjames - dukes, you may be her childhood best firmed, but man you are clueless !! so glad that high school y/n’s wish came true :-)

↳ yourusername - I love and miss you sky! (yes she is very happy about her wish coming true)

_alexturcotte - ah 🥲 the night has changed not only because of you two…. but what you’re drinking lol

taylorandersen - oh what a throwback!!!! can’t wait for to see the future for the two of you! 😆

↳ yourusername - I can’t wait for it either, it seems pretty sweet! <33

liked by @tysmith24 , @njdevils , @elblue06 & others

jackhughes86 - big night at the rock = pizza dinner date after the game! (ty got booted to the back seat and took that picture lol) #weloveourthirdwheel #W

tagged @/ yourusername , tysmith24 & njdevils

view top comments

tysmith24 - third wheel but I got free pizza so I don’t care :-)

yourusername - it was a good night tonight! (jack remembered my pizza order that I shared with lu lu growing up and made me cry because I miss lu lu 🥺)

jackhughes86 - truly was a good night @njdevils !!

njdevils - @lhughes_06 get your sh*t together and make up with Y/n !!!!! #westany/nandjack #wearetheirbiggestfans

↳ lhughes_06 - eventually I will @yourusername & @njdevils

nicohischier13 - you two!!!! ❤️❤️ (and ty LOL)

dawsonmercer - my favorite couple !!!

↳ jackhughes86 - love ya guys @nicohischier13 & @dawsonmercer

elblue06 - keep y/n close & @lhughes_06 make up with them NOW! I can’t stand you three fighting about this 🥲

liked by @_alexturcotte , elblue06 , @skylarstjames & others

yourusername - date night w/ j >

tagged @/ jackhughes86

view top comments

skylarstjames - girl that dress is gorgeous!!!! 🤩🤩

taylorandersen - you are glowing !!!

↳ yourusername - glowing because I am so damn happy

jackhughes86 - you look like an angel in that dress..... maybe in the future I can buy you another type of white dress

↳ yourusername - I freaking adore you, j

↳ elblue06 - oh my gosh!! you look stunning & @jackhughes86 please do!!!

trevorzegras - they grew up @lhughes_06 how do you feel right now??

↳ lhughes_06 - I love my best friend and my brother, but this is still weird lol & COVER UP Y/N/N DAMN

↳ yourusername - I love you too lu lu, I've missed you

-----------

abbster's taglist: @owenpwr @hockeyboysarehot @pulpfixion @bellaguarneri @studsccsnackavoybambi @juliasahoshughes @hockey-lover86 @yorkshirespirlo @the-stars-shine-above-us @dylandukerr @pierrelucduboiis

[shu-ramyeonz]

so are we getting the titles thing

replying to this anon, sorry for anyone uncfomortable with being tagged KGVHJFUGHB i will bow down and teleport to ur house to worship you in return - btw ty for this question , it seems super interesting 😭😭 ive never done anything like this before idrk how this will work side note: these are only ppl ik, i obviously havent talked to EVERYONE on enhablr so im so sorry, also ill be making my moots list soon so expect to be tagged once more IM SORRY JASOFJJDID

@heeseongism - enhablr’s it girl: i have explain this before but the unnecessary hate for being funny AND pretty just proves that shes a celebrity atp

@jaylaxies - enhablr’s leader: yk the 4th gen leader things, i rlly dont think ur on enhablr if u dont know aria, shes honestly the ariana grande of this app ( OH SHIT I JUST REALIZED THERES ARIA IN ARIANA, praise my play on words pls ) anyways she literally is our president KEOSIDUSJ and shes so humble despite being one of the biggest blogs give this woman an award

@hee-pster - enhablr’s first love: not just cuz she was one of my first friends but she just gives off those vibes , plus her smuts are unforgettable like ur first love, also she cant be replaced ( no matter how many rebounds u try to find THERE IS ONLY ONE JAN ) shes so unique and also so mature too UGH CMON everyones ideal type srsly

@svnoohe4rts - enhablr’s sunshine: shes honestly so cute and KOSJDONS idk i love her sm , shes just super silly and easy going i feel like if she walked past me id melt into the floor, she just makes everyones day

@aminatalks - enhablr’s baby: idk dont ask me, this is a genereliazed statement but everyone honestly just loves amina cmon now, shes so precious everyone here TREASURES this woman and im ready to defend her 24/7

@end-hyphen - enhablr’s older sister: i was gonna go for enhablr’s best friend, i think that fits too - but little sister fits better because she’s always there to listen and she’s superrrrrr supportive, the no.1 hype girl honestly, she’s just super funny and chill and someone ppl feel safe w

@donghoonie-3 - enhablr’s icon: she just inspires so many people, and makes everyone day honestly, everything she says makes me laugh but also dont be distracted bcuz she has the most sexy asf hard thoughts?? then somehow shes the sweetest funniest person after?? duality indeed

@forjongseong - enhablr’s girlboss: she has NOOOOOO misses on any of her posts/comments/interactions, super interesting to talk too and also she’s so mature while also being so friendly? she’s just the type of girl id envy if i saw her cuz she has such an amazing personality and she is the sweetest person on this app, HER AND ONLY HER END OF CONVO

@thots4hee - enhablr’s angel: once again dont be fooled bcuz when she gets horny she gets WHOREEEEEENYYYYY, but aside from that she’s so funny and sweet and she talks in the most precious way i need to put her in my pocket fr

@hyunjinsr - enhablr’s happy virus : honestly she just has an adorable smile and she’s so wholesome to talk to, i feel like knowing/seeing her happy just makes me happy too and she adds sm positivity to the dashboard its INSANE how a person can make my day

@criceofpain - enhablr’s happy pill: this one is different bcuz she’s so funny to me, specially when she talks in filo and she just swears like 100x million times, she also writes smuts that make me wanna drown myself bcuz its THAT GOOD,

@vivvys - enhablr’s sassy/duality queen: i dont think ppl understand, viv is so so insanely funny, shes up there when it comes to people who have made me laugh, LIKE A LAUGH NOT JUST A “hehe thats funni” a real “BWGAHSHSKASHA” ykwim? but then i see her defend herself and her friends and speak out on what she believes in and it’s like okay she will not take y’alls disrespect, she’s also the coolest person ever, like i idolize her honestly

@jojayke - enhablr’s little brother: WE HAVENT TALKED ONCE LMFAO, but i do follow his blog and support on the sidelines thru anons, but anyway i feel like ely is just such an amazinggggggggg writer that its like seeing ur little brother grow up to be such a talented and creative person? how honestly pls step up to the mic and teach us how 🎤🎤

[yeojaa]

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

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

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

pairing.  tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

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

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

wc.  7.6k.

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you take walk-ins?”

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

Still, it never hurt to try, right? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

“You like cats?”

You do.  “She looks like mine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

One breath.  Two. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is it.  Right here.”

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

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

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

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?”  You’d misheard that, right? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was that weird?  I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.” 

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

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

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

“I think so too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like?”  

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what’re you thinking?”  

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

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

“I think so.”

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

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

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

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

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You’d been mistaken.)

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

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

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

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

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

“Wouldn’t I?  I’m leaving anyway.”

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

“Leaving?”  

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

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

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

“Gonna miss me?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

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

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

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

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

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

“Dibs on what?  Tattooing me?”

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

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

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

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”  

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

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

“That’s what I said!”

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

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

“Don’t be rude!”  

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

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

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

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

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

Were you?  You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

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

“Should I have expected it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Same difference.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, so?”

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

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

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose. 

“Do it again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope.”  

“Sounds good.”

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

You can do this.

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

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You say yes anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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