#like do I need therapy or a paper to doodle on

[buckevantommy]

so i googled 'marker art landscape tutorial' and this video got me started. i like warm colours (and my marker collection is limited) so i chose this reference pic. 

#i made a art #my stuff #marker art #sunset #🌅 #i mainly do photo edits but I've been wanting to try my hand at irl stuff for a while #i used to doodle a lot growing up but it was always abstract and i want to learn #how to make art that looks like a real thing #bought a bunch of markers at OW for 50c sale but i know I'm gonna need dozens more #right now my palette is restricted to sunset bc all i have are yellows and a pink and green and blue and gray #and thee lightest pink ever and shade '0' which is white ink that does Not show up on white paper so #gonna have to figure out what the point of that one is #artists on tumblr #btw: that sketchbook is smaller than my palm. all i have are a variety of mini sketchbooks #bc they're cute and cheap and teen me used retail therapy to try and combat depression emptiness and misery #and crushing loneliness and yet. never arted in them. glad i didn't throw them out though. #10-15yrs later they've come in handy. at last! XD

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 8

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | You make the poor choice of teasing Dr. Crane, so obviously he has to punish you.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, kissing, hickeys, praise, edging, crying (but in a hot way), consensual sex, orgasm denial, cockwarming?, emotions? idk, neither does he tbh, bestie has no idea how to comfort you💀

Words | 3.6k

Notes | Trying really hard to keep his character accurate😓 lmk what y’all think lol

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 7

Neither of you mentioned his confession again. He seemed to be acting mostly normal and only a little awkward and withdrawn so you tried to remain the same to assure him that nothing changed. You were sitting on the couch, doodling with a spare piece of paper he found as well as an extra pencil, when you broke the silence. 

“Where are you planning on sleeping?” You asked, eyeing the large space that was empty save for a desk, a chair, and a couch. 

“The couch.” He said, not looking up from what he was working on. 

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” You asked, making him sigh and turn his gaze to you. “For now you may sleep on the couch, I doubt I’ll be sleeping much anyway.” 

“Oh. Don’t you have an apartment? A bed?” 

“The cops are going to be looking for everyone that escaped, including myself- especially myself, because I created what caused all of that.” 

“Oh… What if I go? I can bring you back some clothes so you don’t have to stay in that and anything else you need? I doubt I can lift a mattress on my own though.” 

“You want to go to my apartment in the middle of town, wearing that?” He asked, raising his brows. You looked down at your outfit and frowned, just now remembering that you’re wearing it still. 

“People are dumb enough to hang their laundry up outside. I’ll just take something before getting downtown.” You suggested, but back tracked when he was silent for a moment. “I don’t have to, it was just an idea.” 

“What will you do if the police show up?” 

“Um… I’ll tell them you’re my boyfriend and I left something there that I need.” That made him scoff. 

“They won’t believe that.” 

“Fine. Ex boyfriend. Who’s been so busy working that I had to just go there myself.” You shrugged and he narrowed his eyes at you for a moment. 

“Fine. Know that if you get caught, I have no power or leverage anymore to help you.” Honestly you didn’t expect him to agree. You figured he might want to keep you within his sight at all times but that wasn’t the case. Trying not to read into this new found trust, you were going over the plan in your head. 

“Wait, is it even within walking distance?” You realized, worried the whole plan just fell apart. 

“It’s not on this island, so no. And the train is still down because of the bat.” 

“Oh… I can probably walk, it’ll just take me longer I guess.” The sun was rising anyway, so it’ll probably be fine. “Or I’ll ask someone for a ride.” 

“Do not do that.” He said sternly, making you frown. 

“Why not?” 

“Because this is Gotham and you are a young, attractive woman. You will more than likely be kidnapped, raped, or killed.” 

“What am I supposed to do then?” He let out a heavy sigh, and got something out of his desk drawer. When he told you to come to him, you stood, leaving the pencil and paper, and walked over. 

“Give me your hand.” You held your arm out to him and he gently grabbed your hand to put on a very weird shaped bracelet on your wrist. “In case you don’t have time to put the mask on, point it away from your face and hold your breath, then push this.” He pointed to a lever near the heel of your hand and you reached for it, trying to test the motion and get used to it, but he stopped you. 

“Not- now.” He strained, uncurling your fingers. 

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly. 

Then you were leaving, finding clothes that looked about the right size and changing in an alley behind a dumpster. The tricky part was the shoes but they’re subtle enough that they shouldn’t draw very much attention. You found an empty paper bag near the dumpster and put the mask in it then started looking for someone to drive you. You spotted an older woman getting into a car and immediately walked toward her. 

“Excuse me?” You said, making her pause. 

“No change, sorry.” 

“Oh no, I was actually hoping you could give me a ride. I have a job interview downtown and it probably wouldn’t make a good impression to show up all sweaty. But I understand if it’s too much trouble…” 

She only hesitated for a moment before agreeing, telling you to get in the back and asking for the address. You read it off the paper to her and ten minutes later you were pulling up in front of an apartment building. 

“You sure this is it?” 

“It’s for a small business.” You explained, quickly getting out of the car. “Thank you so much.” You dropped the smile as soon as you turned around to walk into the building. “Fuck,” You groaned, “I don’t have a fucking key.” How could you have forgotten that part? You decided to just walk inside, breathing a sigh of relief when you spotted a front desk. 

“Hi, I lost my key and my boyfriend’s out of town and I’m supposed to feed his cat,” 

“What number?” The man asked, bored. 

“178.” He reached back and grabbed a key, handing it to you impatiently. “Thanks...” He wasn’t lying when he said everyone and everything is corrupt or just doesn’t care. 

You made your way to the elevator and pushed 17. As you waited, you went over the list he gave you. Most of the stuff was easy, an extra pair of glasses in his desk drawer, a few pairs of clothes, shoes, a toothbrush as well as the extra one under the sink for yourself, etc. But you were mostly worried about the safe and the papers he wanted. What if you can’t open it? What if you grab the wrong ones?

The elevator opening with a ding removed you from your thoughts and you made your way to his door. You worked quickly, not wanting to increase your chances of getting caught, but you took the time to fold his suits, worried he’d be upset if you just threw them in his duffel bag. You opened the safe on the second try, putting the money that was in there in the duffel bag. 

Then you made your way to the desk. Even though the rest of the place was completely tidy, the desk was covered in different papers. He said they would be on top, not in a drawer, so you grabbed everything just to be safe. 

Before leaving, you went through his dresser, praying he wouldn’t be pissed, and got some shirts and sweatpants for yourself, as well as a hoodie and socks. 

The ride back was much easier since you had money to take a cab, but you still had to walk a few minutes, not wanting to be dropped off right in front of his “hideout” just in case. 

“No trouble?” He asked, barely glancing up from what he was writing. 

“Well I realized I forgot to ask about a key- speaking of which, you should probably move because the guy at the front desk just gave it to me.” The corners of his lips turned up and your cheeks went red, still not used to it. 

“Good job.” You stared at him in shock, feeling your cheeks heat up even more, but you tried to play it off. 

“Did you just compliment me?” You scoffed teasingly. 

“Don’t get used to it. Did you bring the papers I asked for?” 

“Oh- yeah.” You set the duffel bag on the desk and he opened it to inspect the contents. “I- I hope it’s okay, I brought just a few shirts and pants for myself too.” You said nervously. When he didn’t respond, you figured that meant it was okay. He started looking through the papers, then turned to you with raised brows. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bring the wrong thing so I just took all of it.”

“Thank you.” He said, making your eyes widen. 

“Mhm.” Was all you could say in response. “Oh- here.” You said, suddenly remembering the wristband and taking it off to give it back. 

“Keep it.”

“What?” You choked out. “You- you’re not worried I’ll use it on you or something?” You asked, staring at him with furrowed brows. 

“Of course not.” He scoffed, then set the papers down and took out a suit and the shoes as you just waited awkwardly, not sure what to do. “Are you just going to watch?” He was teasing you, but there was still an edge to his voice. 

“N- no, sorry.” You blushed, turning around and staring at the ground, listening to the sound of clothes rustling behind you and thinking about how you’ve only ever seen his face, neck, hands, and cock- nothing else. The thought made you frown. “Unless it’s okay… then I’d like to watch.” You said quietly and the rustling stopped. 

“Why?” His tone was guarded. 

“I just- I haven’t seen you yet and you’ve seen all of me.” You explained meekly. “Nevermind, sorry.” You waited anxiously as you heard no movement from the man behind you. 

“Go ahead.” He said in a measured tone. You tentatively turned around, finding him in just a pair of dress pants, straight jacket on the floor and shirt in hand. The first thing you noticed was how lean he looks without his suit. The second were the small scars littering his torso. The third was his happy trail, leading down into his pants, teasing you. 

“Satisfied?” You looked up at him when you heard his voice, not able to read his expression. When all you could do was nod, his lips curled up into a small smirk. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll fuck you stupid over the desk.” He warned, voice laced with arousal. 

“Is that a promise, doctor?” You purred, stepping closer to him, setting the wristband on the desk to have both hands free. He stiffened, but allowed you to move until you were right in front of him. Staring deep into icy blue eyes, you slowly raised your hands, as if you were approaching a wild animal who could attack at any second. His eyes moved to your hands, watching, but he didn’t say anything. So you slowly moved them closer until you could almost feel the heat from his body against your palms. His eyes moved back to yours and you searched them for a deterrent. When you found nothing, you placed your hands on his chest, sliding them down his stomach, making sure not to linger on any scars. You reached his pants and brushed over the button teasingly before snaking them back up his body. 

“You’re playing with fire.” He said lowly. Your hands reached his shoulders and you trailed them down his arms. Once you reached his hands, you grabbed the shirt and set it on the desk, then took both of his hands in yours, moving them around your waist. 

“On the contrary, Dr. Crane. I’m getting exactly what I want.” You placed your hands on his stomach again to snake around to his back. 

“Oh? And what’s that?” He said coyly, playing along. 

“You can let me keep teasing you to my heart's content or you can punish me. Either way I win.” You smirked, moving your hands down his back to his pants and following the waist line around his body until they met at the button. 

“You think you’ll enjoy however I choose to punish you?” He scoffed. 

“You said it yourself, doctor. You don’t want to hurt me. So I’m sure I can take it.” His hands moved to your hips, gripping tight enough to make you wince as he pushed you against the desk. 

“Foolish girl. You underestimate my desire to watch you crying and begging for my forgiveness. I have no problem torturing you, in fact, I’ll enjoy it.” You faltered at that. “Does that frighten you?” He asked, tilting his head. 

“You don’t scare me anymore.” You said quietly, feeling the arousal in your stomach quickly make its way between your legs. 

“That’s not what I asked.” He teased and you swallowed thickly, squirming under his gaze. 

“No.” You tried to keep your voice steady. 

“Maybe not yet. But I’m sure it will soon.” He reached a hand up to wrap around your neck, squeezing and pulling you forward as your breath hitched. “I don’t have to hurt you to torture you. You should know that by now.” He said quietly, gaze straying to your lips. 

“I can take it.” You said, equally as quiet, not even believing the words as they left your mouth. 

“You think so?” He cooed and you nodded in response. “I guess we’ll find out then.” He took a step back and you whined at the loss of his touch, reaching out for him. “Pick it up.” He said, gesturing to the straight jacket. Your eyes moved anxiously between him and the garment, hesitating. “This is the only warning I’m giving you— You don’t want me to tell you again.” You leaned down and picked up the straight jacket, then waited for his next command. 

“Put it on.” 

“Dr. Crane,” You whined, but he raised his brows, making you close your mouth and reluctantly slide it on. He stepped closer again then started buckling the restraints. 

“You seem to think that pain is the only form of punishment I’ll inflict. I guess given my history I shouldn’t be surprised but you need to get that idea out of your head right now or things will only get worse for you.” You stared at him with wide eyes but his gaze remained on the task of restraining you. “There are plenty of ways I can punish you.” He said clinically, like a doctor explaining something to a patient. “Like denial, for example. Not just orgasm denial… You can’t touch me either.”  

“Please- I’m sorry.” You whined, giving him puppy dog eyes that did not work at all. 

“I bet you are. I bet you’ll say whatever it is you think I want to hear right now. Unfortunately, the only sounds I want from you are moans and cries.” He led you over to the couch and kneeled in front of you to pull down your pants and underwear before having you sit. He discarded your shoes so he could fully remove your clothes, then pulled you forward to the edge of the couch and spread your legs embarrassingly wide. 

“I think you also underestimate my patience. I am more than willing to do this as long as it takes.” He started dragging his hands up and down your thighs, teasing you, never getting close to where you wanted him.   

“Please.” You whined as your hips started squirming. 

“Come now… We haven’t even started and you’re already begging? At least save that until the actual torture begins.” 

“Don’t want torture.” You muttered. 

“No? I thought you said this would be a win for you? That you can take it.”

“Please.” You whined, much brattier this time— all but throwing a fit.  

“There’s that attitude.” He chuckled. “Keep that up. It makes it more fun for me when you break.” His hands snaked up your thighs, then back down, teasing you. You whined and squirmed, but surprisingly, it worked. He moved a hand between your legs, swiftly pushing in two fingers and rapidly curling them against your walls. You let out a choked moan from the sudden pleasure as your head rolled back onto the couch and your hips bucked. He pulled you even farther down the couch, then leaned down and took your clit in his mouth. 

“Oh fuck,” You said through a moan, hips flinching as he groaned against you in response. Lifting your head to look down at him, you found his eyes already on you, making you blush and squirm under his gaze. After getting so turned on and not coming when you sucked him off before, your orgasm approached quickly. The volume of your moans increased as you started trying to rut against his face. He suddenly pulled back, his fingers halting, making you whine. 

“Please, I was so close.” You pouted. 

“I know.” He leaned back down, resuming the motions of his fingers as he started working your clit over in his mouth again. Your breathing grew heavier as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, but you let out a choked sob when he stopped. 

“Please!” You cried. 

“Shh. Be a good girl and take your punishment.” He muttered before leaning back down and continuing. You weren’t sure how many times you were on the cusp of pleasure before it was ripped away from you, but you knew it was at least five— after that you weren’t able to concentrate on counting through your crying and desperation. He pulled back but continued moving his fingers as you babbled out incoherent pleas. 

“I have to admit, my patience is wearing thin so I’ll only keep this up for a little longer.” You sobbed in relief at his words. “Once I’m ready to come, I’m gonna fuck your ass. Remember how much you liked it before? It won’t be nearly as pleasurable this time and you certainly won’t be able to come from it.” 

“No- no, please.” You said, panicked. The thought of being empty was enough to intensify your crying. “Please- I don’t care if I don’t come, just please fuck me.” You whimpered. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He said softly, but you just shook your head. 

“No, I- I need your cock- please!” 

“How do I know you won’t come?” He asked, slowing his fingers to a stop before removing them, making you whimper at the emptiness. 

“I won’t! Please- I promise I won’t!” He watched you cry for a moment before cursing under his breath and working on taking his cock out of his pants. 

“Can’t fucking say no to you.” He muttered, helping you to lay down on the couch as he crawled over you. The second he pushed in, you let out a relieved sob that turned into a whine when you tried to move your arms. 

“Please- I want to touch you. Please let me touch you.” You whimpered, watching the way his brows furrowed as his mouth opened in a silent moan when he was all the way in. 

“I can’t, you still need to be punished.” He said breathlessly and you sobbed the hardest you have all night so far.  

“Please! Please- I’m sorry!” You cried and he shushed you as he brought a hand up to wipe away the tears on your cheeks. 

“I know, it’s okay.” He cupped your cheek and leaned down to kiss you as he slowly started moving. Trailing kisses up your jaw to your ear, he whispered, “You’re doing so well, little one. Making me feel so good.” You sobbed harder at the pet name— not used to such affection from him. 

“Oh god,” You moaned, already feeling close again. When he picked up the pace and began kissing and marking your neck, you started panting again. You tried to at least tone down your sobbing a little bit, but after you started, it was really hard to stop. 

“Fuck- I’m already close.” He whined, rutting into you desperately now. His hands never left your body as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting out quiet moans and shaky breaths. When he stilled with a low groan, your cunt ached at the way his cock was twitching inside you, painting your walls with his come. After a moment, his moans stopped and he was panting heavily into your shoulder. When he started pulling out, you sobbing intensified. 

“No! Please- please don’t- not yet.” You whimpered. 

“I need to get this off of you.” He said, lifting his head from your neck to look at the straight jacket. 

“I don’t care- just please don’t leave yet.” You cried. 

“Okay- It’s okay. Sit up like this.” He maneuvered you so that he was sitting on the couch and you were straddling his hips, his cock never leaving you. He started working on the straight jacket, unbuckling all of it until he could slip it off if you and toss it on the floor. Now that your hands were free, you realized that you couldn’t even do anything with them, not without making him uncomfortable. So you continued crying. 

“Okay, just- come here.” He muttered, pulling you down to lay on his chest. Your hands gripped his shoulders tight as you turned your cheek, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the warmth of his skin. His hands fumbled around for a moment before eventually settling on your hips and you knew that he was probably miserable right now. Honestly you’re surprised he didn’t just throw you off of him instead. 

“I’m sorry- I…” He shushed you, not letting you continue babbling out apologies. 

“Just breathe.” He said softly and you couldn’t help but obey. You let out a slow shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. “That’s it. Just focus on breathing. You did so well for me, I’m very proud.” You let out another quiet sob at the praise and shushed you again as he moved a hand up to your hair, lightly stroking it to soothe you. 

“You’re okay.” He said softly. “Just breathe— you’re okay.”

Part 9

(For the sake of the plot, bestie is no longer taking oral contraceptives because he had her get an iud or something back in Arkham lol)

#jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow x reader smut #scarecrow #exposure therapy

[bleucaesura]

STOLITZØ - FIFTY THREE

After some brief and teary reunions, everyone had gathered in Blitzø’s room. The doctor had done a thorough examination of Blitzø a short while beforehand and was now ready to go over Blitzø’s prognosis and next steps with everyone.

The doctor paced in the middle of the room flipping through Blitzø’s chart while the others watched and waited.

Stolas stood at the head of the bed to Blitzø’s left, Fizzarolli to the right and Asmodeus lurked behind him.

Loona sat to Blitzø’s right. The M&Ms were to his left. Millie sat on the bed by his legs, Moxxie stood on a chair in front of Stolas.

Octavia chose the armchair out of the way, feeling less like part of the family, but still wanting to be there with everyone.

“What’s the matter with his eye?” Blitzø mumbled to no one in particular as he watched the doctor pace absentmindedly.

Asmodeus snorted and leaned down. “You hit him in your sleep.”

Blitzø looked up at him in surprise. “Did he deserve it?”

“We think so.” Fizzarolli grumbled.

“Good for me then,” Blitzø laughed.

His laugh startled the doctor and he seemed to realize he was still in a room full of people. Remembering he was supposed to be doing something the little goat began.

“We are going to need to keep Mr. Blitzø here for another two to four weeks during his initial recovery.”

“I’m sorry but WHAT?” Blitzø snapped.

“Darling. Please.” Stolas touched his shoulder and looked down at him pleadingly. Blitzø felt guilty so he sighed and shut his mouth.

“A head trauma and surgery like yours is serious.” The doctor continued. “Initial recovery is at least four to six weeks. And you’ll need to continue therapies for several months afterwards as well as…”

“MONTHS?!” Blitzø jolted upright. “The F*CK you SAY!”

“Dad!” Loona snapped at him.

Blitzø cringed. “Loony…?” He’d never seen her look at him like that before.

“Just listen to him.” Loona’s voice cracked. “Please.”

Blitzø saw the raw pain in her eyes.

I f*cked up…

He took her hand, squeezed it and smiled apologetically.

Stolas’s heart ached as he watched their exchange. “Please. Continue.” He told the doctor.

“Oh. Um. Yes.” The doctor blustered a moment and flipped through his papers. “As I was saying. During your initial recovery here at the hospital, we will run daily tests. We will have you doing congestive exercises to assess your mental well-being…”

Fizzarolli snorted.

Blitzø shot him a look and grinned.

Fizzarolli sat up ramrod straight, crossed his arms tight, sucked in his lips, and looked around in feigned surprise like “Oh my goodness! Who could have made that noise! How very rude of them!”

Blitzø rolled his eyes.

The doctor hadn’t noticed their exchange and had continued on, Blitzø having missed a chunk of information.

“That’s why it’ll be important for Mr. Blitzø to engage in activities that will stimulate his mind. Such as puzzles. Or interactive games. Doing art is also suggested.”

“Hear that, dad?” Loona squeezed his hand. “You can start doing your horsie doodles again!”

Blitzø smiled warmly back at her.

“Yes. Sure. Drawing is helpful.” The doctor said dismissively. “Listening to classical music or sometimes those broadway musicals is found to be helpful.”

Moxxie gasped and his eyes lit up. He slowly turned to look at Blitzø with his hands to his mouth.

Oh f*ck me…

“Siiiiiiir….” He was practically vibrating with excitement.

Satan f*cking dammit…

“F*ck. Okay FINE, Moxxie.” Blitzø heaved a dramatic sigh. “You can show me more of your SH*T…”

“REALLY SIR?!” Moxxie’s eyes were the size of saucers.

“F*cking doctor’s orders I guess…” Blitzø shrugged and rolled his eyes.

Moxxie squealed and clapped excitedly. He started whispering to Millie about things he thought he should share with Blitzø. Millie smiled and basked in her husband’s joy.

Blitzø smiled to himself.

So f*cking easy to please…

“Just please avoid too much screen time and loud sounds. Moderation is key.”

“Anything else doctor?” Stolas asked.

“No physical exertion or over-stimulation.” He said offhandedly while looking through Blitzø’s file.

Everyone shunted a shifty eye at Blitzø and then Stolas. Blitzø didn’t notice. Stolas did and blushed horribly.

“Otherwise, that’s about it. I’ll be back in a few hours to check on you. And someone will be by to help with the catheter and possible bathing.”

Blitzø cringed at the mention of his catheter but tried to play it off. “Oooo. Sponge bath? I hope I’ve at least been getting bathed by a sexy nurse this whole time.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Everyone giggled and snickered.

“What?” Blitzø looked around at everyone. “What am I missing?”

“Absolutely nothing, dad.” Loona patted him on the leg. “I think Via and I are gonna hit the caf for a coffee.” She gave Stolas a wink as she and Via headed out.

Blitzø turned to look at Stolas.

The f*ck is she on about…

Stolas was beet red.

Oh. OOOOH…

Blitzø blushed and quickly looked away.

Millie grinned watching the two of them being embarrassed.

“Come on, Mox. Why don’t we pop on home and you can get some of your stuff together for Blitzø?” She hopped off the bed and gestured to the door.

“Great idea!” He jumped off the chair, then turned to wave to Blitzø. “We’ll be back later!”

The M&Ms scuttled off into the hall, Moxxie excitedly chattering to Millie about everything he wanted to grab from home for Blitzø.

“Whelp! That’s our cue!” Fizzarolli leaned over and hugged Blitzø, and whispered “I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Thanks, Fizz.” Blitzø hugged him tight.

Asmodeus gave an amiable nod and scooped Fizzarolli up in his arms as they walked out of the room.

Stolas and Blitzø existed in awkward silence.

“So… You bathed me, huh?” Blitzø peeked up at Stolas.

“I uh… Well you see… I didn’t…” Stolas babbled and stammered. He couldn’t find the words. He felt like he was floundering.

Blitzø started to laugh. He laughed so hard he began to cry.

Stolas stood there dumbfounded.

“Oh f*ck!” Blitzø grabbed his head. “Ok… Add ‘Don’t laugh too hard’ to the list of stuff I’m not supposed to do.”

Blitzø cringed, held his head and looked up at Stolas sheepishly.

Stolas smiled meekly and shook his head.

Blitzø reached out and took one of his hands. “I’m giving you a hard time.”

Stolas blushed.

“Truth be told, I’d definitely rather have had you tending to me than some stranger.”

Stolas sat down beside his bed. “I wanted to maintain as much of your privacy as possible. There was no need for you to be exposed or on display…” His voice trailed off.

“Jealous?” Blitzø waggled his eyebrows jokingly.

Stolas averted his gaze, feeling ashamed.

Oh sh*t…

Blitzø blushed.

“Yes. I was…” Stolas mumbled. “I’m sorry I was so small and petty.”

Blitzø reached out and touched Stolas’s chin, turning his head so Stolas had to face him. Blitzø smiled tenderly.

“I’d be jealous too.”

Stolas stared at him in wide-eyed bewilderment.

Blitzø raised an eyebrow. “You look confused?”

“I must admit… I am a little…” Stolas said quietly.

Blitzø closed his eyes, sighed and shook his head.

“Wh…What is it?” Stolas stammered.

Blitzø grabbed his chin and pulled him down into a kiss.

Stolas melted. It had been so long since they’d kissed. His mind went blank and all there was was the two of them.

Stolas leaned over the bed, reached out a shaking hand and stroked Blitzø’s cheek.

Blitzø sighed and opened his mouth to kiss him deeper.

Stolas moaned.

Blitzø let go of Stolas’s chin and ran both his hands through Stolas’s feathers, grabbing the back of his head and neck to pull him closer; kiss him even deeper.

They could feel each other’s heartbeats racing. The air grew thick and heavy.

Stolas began to feel light headed and an alarm bell went off in his head “No over-exertion or over-stimulation!”.

So just as abruptly as it began, it ended. Stolas broke the kiss. They looked at each other with bleary, dazed, lustful eyes.

Blitzø took a ragged breath and touched his forehead to Stolas’s.

“I’d be jealous too.” Blitzø whispered. “Cuz you’re too f*cking pretty, Stolas. I’ll never want to share you with anyone else.”

*****

#helluva boss #blitzø #stolas #stolitz #fanfic #vivzieverse #vivziepop #vivienne medrano #brandon rogers

[lolabangtan]

STAY | 16

It’s time you step up and talk things out with Jungkook.

index • previous

Word count: 12k

Warnings: smut.

# hurt/comfort, themed grad party where things happen 👀, not as dramatic as you’d think, Ari Besto Friendo, lovemaking *ugly sobs*, ‘spanking’, ‘rough’ handjob, mommy kink, spitting, squirting, overstimulation, “choking”, orgasm denial, unprotected vaginal sex, soft degrading kink.

A/N: this is the end. See you in therapy. Also, I recommend you to listen to the playlist while reading, it gets you.

“What happened with Ms Min?”

Seokjin looks to the side and says, “She got caught up with work and asked me to step in for her.”

“Oh, I see…” Professor Choi murmurs. Then he nods, beckoning him to take a seat. “We were just starting with the meeting. Thank you for joining us, Mr Kim. So, as I was saying, the most voted theme for the graduation party…”

The looks of curiosity are heavy on his nape as Seokjin walks across the class. There’s only one seat left and, unfortunately, it’s right next to Jeon Jungkook.

“Hey,” he whispers.

The boy, of course, doesn’t answer.

Seokjin takes a seat anyways and waits for the professor to pick up the meeting where it left off before the interruption. As Mr Choi informs them, the graduation theme is, by almost unanimous choice, a prom with nostalgic airs. There is nothing better than reliving one’s youth, as long as it was pleasant, and since the sufferers did not dare to say that it was hell for them, that is how the vote stood.

The committee gets down to work once everything is discussed; from where the party will be held to what drinks will be served, everyone works as a team.

Jungkook, however, feels pressure in his chest.

He won’t be coming, he’s sure of that. Can’t even imagine the idea of getting drunk in public again. And he doesn’t know what’s worse, the fact that he almost slept with someone or the fact that there was no reason he shouldn’t have. If you had truly not broken up, wouldn’t you have come to him already, screaming blue murder?

As he makes a quick doodle of the table layout under a senior’s supervision, Seokjin leans into him from his side; he’s been annoyingly trying to get closer to him ever since the meeting started. Jungkook moves his arm and covers the paper.

“Oh, oppa, can you take care of him?” the girl asks. “You remember best how’s the pavilion, and I have no idea how many tables we can fit in there!”

“Sure.”

They wait until their classmate is gone. “I don’t need your stupid help.”

“Ugh, God—” The eldest crosses his arms. “How much longer are you gonna act up like this? You’re just making people uncomfortable, and you’re self-sabotaging. I’m sure you’re smarter than that.”

“Are you calling me dumb?” Jungkook blurts out.

“Is that what you think I’m trying to say?”

But Jungkook makes no answer – instead, he takes his drawing and brings it to another of the seniors who is more familiar with the layout of the pavilion. He no longer needs Kim Seokjin and his stupid help, and he’s not the only one who knows the place better than a sophomore who’s never stepped in there.

The meeting ends half an hour later. Everyone is released to go to their classes, and Jungkook hurries off to lock himself in his room and not return. He just hopes that his nemesis has unfinished business to do on the other side of campus, or even better, the other side of town.

Today, however, is not his lucky day.

“Hey, Jungkook-ssi.” Seokjin comes in seconds after and closes the door with care. “Can we talk?”

The youngest is lying face down on the bed. If he doesn’t move, it would look like he’s asleep, and his senior would leave him alone; Jungkook doesn’t want to listen to any of the silly excuses he has to make.

“I know you’re awake, you’re still wearing your outdoor clothes. Can’t even imagine all that dirt impregnating your clean sheets right now…”

Don’t fall for it.

“Oh, and it’s the first time I see your shoes on the bed too!”

Okay, that’s the last straw.

Jungkook jumps off the bed and kicks his shoes off, overwhelmed by the ick. Then he slumps into it again, and Seokjin manages to sit by him like a mother ready to try and make her teenage son come to his senses, making sure to take his shoes off first.

“What’s your fucking problem!” he finally cries out. “What? Are you— are you obsessed with making me miserable or something?”

At his outburst, Seokjin stares at him in silence, totally shocked; it wasn’t his intention to push him to his limits like that, but maybe that’s the only way there is to get him to sit down and talk things out. And it’s a very needed thing, to discuss what the hell is going on – there have been too many victims already, and Jin would like to freeze the number of casualties.

“Now I’m the one who’s got a problem?” Seokjin barks back.

Jungkook grimaces. “Yeah! You—!”

“I what?”

With his breath hitching in his throat and his face colouring in frustration, the youngest goes silent. He’s looking for the words, all those things he’s been wanting to yell at this guy for weeks, and now that he has the chance, Jungkook is beginning to realise he doesn’t even know what to say – and he probably won’t until he figures out what he feels. Right now, his mouth is babbling, and his heart is just as confused.

“You…! Y/N-noona…!” And then he bursts into tears, and Seokjin grimaces in utter pity, suddenly forgetting all the pain this boy has caused you. “She dumped me for you! It’s all your fault! I’m sorry I’m—!”

“What—?”

But Jungkook rambles on, “And now she hates me, and I just can’t forget about her! I love her and she hates me!”

“Okay, o— listen! Man, you got it all wrong!” Seokjin suddenly exclaims, and he stops. “I’m not with Y/N, okay? We’re friends, that’s it! God, isn’t she dating you? How could she be with me?”

All the heat that came to his cheeks disappears in an instant. His brain hasn’t fully processed Seokjin’s words, but there’s a pinch of hope at what they could mean.

“But— but I heard you,” he babbles.

“Heard us?”

“Yeah! You… you told her you love her and that you wanted to be with her!”

Jin frowns – he’s totally lost. “And when was this?”

“It was… the day you came to practice,” Jungkook replies, his voice weaker than ever. “We, uh, had a little quarrel with our friends—”

“The bet, I know all about it. You found out about the bet,” Jin sums up.

“Yeah, and noona said she ‘needed time’, so she left. She also wouldn’t answer my calls, and she texted me that she’d call me back, but she never did. Then I came back home because it was late, and I heard you talking in our room— and you asked her to get back together!”

“Oh, Jesus Christ…”

Rubbing his face with a tired groan, Seokjin sits back down on the bed. His body is suddenly ten years older, and his heart is ten kilos heavier. This is a much bigger deal than he thought it would be.

“Dude, you got it all wrong,” he finally says.

“You said you love her—!”

“Listen, Jungkook-ssi,” Seokjin cuts him off, “I didn’t mean it… romantically! We used to be friends, you know, but Y/N really resented me after we broke up,” he explains then. “I messed up and hurt her. So, I was, uh, apologising? I love her, that’s true. She’s a very important person to me; important enough for me to want her forgiveness and to want to be friends again.”

“No…”

Suddenly cold, Jungkook has to sit on the bed in front of him; his hands are cold, his chest is pumping and beating like crazy, and his mind is working at such a speed that he can’t even recognise the thoughts passing by anymore. The only thing in his mind is the biggest relief at the discovery that you did not, in fact, dump him, and the gruesome realisation that this is probably the time he has fucked up the most.

“B-but you’re with her all the time!”  he cries out in a poor attempt at defending himself. “And she— and she wouldn’t talk to me!”

“Well, yeah? You were the one to ignore her first!”

“Fuck!”

Jungkook buries his face in his hands and lets out a mournful groan. Now that he’s letting all go, now that he’s finally allowing himself to feel betrayed and hurt and confused, it’s when he finally realises that he was wrong all along.

“Shit…” His whimpers make Seokjin cringe with pity. “I fucked up, I really fucked up— she’s never gonna forgive me.”

The eldest sighs. “I think you’re still in time.”

“Huh?”

“You still have time now that she hasn’t stopped trying to find an explanation for your shitty behaviour. Y/N is the first one who wants to work things out, I’m sure,” Jin continues.

“She said that?”

“Uh, not exactly, but I know her, and I am sure that she wants you back.”

The consequences of his own actions are beginning to weigh on his shoulders. There had always been a fear, disguised as hope, that it had all been a mistake, a misunderstanding of some kind. Of course, Jungkook had decided to keep it inside in case he had to unlearn his grudge, but it never crossed his mind that, in the process, he was hurting you back, and that you could obviously resent him for it too.

In his mind, you had been this giant fortress all these days; an ice-cold barrier without feelings or even the ability to love or be merciful. In Jungkook’s mind, of course, everything you had done had been to hurt him and to let him know that his actual place in your life wasn’t inside your heart but dragged on the floor.

And even then, he couldn’t stop loving you.

He wants to cry, kiss you all over your face, kneel before you, kiss your hands, hug your lap, beg you to take him.

“Hey, don’t look so defeated,” Seokjin says, snapping him out of his depressing self-absorption. “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’ll help you make it up to her.”

“Why?”

But the eldest only shrugs. “She’s hurting too,” he murmurs then, “and I was your age once.”

It’s not like he’s much older than him, but this is the first time in a while someone tries to make him feel better without taking the guilt off him – he’s going to learn from this, but he won’t beat himself up over it. You wouldn’t want that anyway.

“You don’t need to do this.”

“I know,” he says, “but I want to. Besides, it’s not like you’ve killed someone, you know— and Y/N knows you didn’t sleep with that girl.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, half-relieved.

“Yeah, she heard the rumours, but she didn’t believe them since, well, in her head you were still dating, so she asked Jimin, and he told her.” Well, it’s good to know he still has good friends out there, but he’s weirdly glad. “Try to process it: she didn’t believe them to the point that she called Jimin to confirm them. Man, she’s desperately fishing for a chance to forgive you.”

Full of renewed strength and hope, Jungkook gets up and grabs his backpack, turning to the other guy with an awkward stance.

“Thank you, uh…”

“You can call me Jin-hyung,” he jokes.

But Jungkook smiles. “Thank you, hyung! See ya!”

And then he storms off, leaving his hyung half-confused, half-amused, and a bit hopeful on the bed. Then he remembers he’s got a class to attend too, and he grabs his stuff to leave.

“Who is it?”

You got up as soon as the intercom rang all across the flat; you were wearing your ugliest yet most comfortable clothes, devouring a jar of Greek yoghurt, and naturally, not expecting any visitors. So, leaving the jar on the kitchen counter, you walk up to the entrance door and push the button.

“It’s me.” Ari is standing on the other side, as you can see through the peephole “Can you open up?”

Your heart doesn’t really have the energy to talk to her, but your brain doesn’t have the energy to even make up an excuse.

You push the entrance button. “Yeah, come in.”

The minutes it takes to enter the doorway and walk up to your landing take forever. Pressing, your heart has begun to beat, heavy, in your chest, and after a while, you regret not having hung up instantly.

“Hey, nice to see you,” Ari says when she shows up at the door.

“What do you want?” You don’t want to be rude, not on purpose, but you really want to know that. “Sorry, uh… How can I, hm, help you?”

Suddenly, Ari stifles a chuckle, and although against your will – you want to be composed and cold – you follow her, feeling incredibly awkward; a friendship like yours wasn’t made to be solemn. You’ve never been silent with each other. Angry, perhaps, or upset – but never silent.

“Sit anywhere you like,” you tell her then, stepping back to let her in.

“Thanks.”

“Do you want a drink?” you ask on your way to the kitchen.

“No, thanks!” Ari exclaims from the living room, and you peek over the counter; she’s holding up two Frappuccinos. “I brought you something, though.”

You shake your head and come back. “You didn’t have to— okay, thanks. It’s my favourite, how did you know?” you joke, and surprisingly, Ari laughs. Maybe this won’t be as awkward, and maybe it’s time to cut straight to the point. “Thanks. So… I guess you came to talk, right? What do you want to talk about?”

Ari takes a deep breath.

“I know you and Jimin talked the other day,” she says, “he told me. He also told me what actually happened…” You stare at her, expectantly. “I came to apologise. What we did was awful, even if we didn’t do it with bad intentions. The… fact that the possibility didn’t even cross my mind was very uncaring, and I think it’s a reflection of how little I’ve tried to understand your feelings,” she continues, and you stay quiet, feeling heavier and heavier. “But it terrified me, to think that you would be unhappy forever.” It’s only when her voice cracks that you let out a heavy puff of breath. “I thought that I wasn’t doing enough. Like I wasn’t caring about it enough.”

You take a few seconds to think about what to say, about what you want to say; the fact that she has finally acknowledged your feelings immediately takes a heavy weight off your chest.

But you also feel so frustrated that it took so long. You’re so frustrated that you had to literally shut down for someone to even suspect that there was something wrong with you. And you’re frustrated that you really didn’t have much idea that you felt like this until now. How hurt you are, how sad, how you long for closeness and intimacy. How you miss being vulnerable, and how much it terrifies you at the same time.

“There was never anything wrong with you,” you say. “You… were there, believe it or not. I always felt you with me, I was the one pushing you all away.” With a soft smile, she makes an attempt to stroke your cheek, and you tilt down your head. “I just… hate being so weak and having no control over it,” you continue.

“What are you even talking about?” Ari asks with a frown, still stroking your cheek. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop joking—”

“It’s true. I admire you, Y/N.”

Your heart aches and cries and sobs and shrinks in your chest out of pure excitement. You feel loved, she makes you feel loved.

“I…” And then your voice cracks, and you start crying. “I just…! Fuck, I wish I could’ve been able to handle it all. All the pain, and the heartbreak, and— I wish nothing of this had affected me this much! I’m tired, I’m literally so tired!”

“Why should you have been able to? What gave you that experience – age, hard work, life, your youth?”

“I don’t know.”

Ari scoots closer to you and hugs you, resting her cheek on your shoulder. She’s looking away, her eyes fixed on some spot in the living room; her face is blank, but you feel she’s serious.

“I’m sorry about the bet. I didn’t know any better,” she murmurs. “I’ve learned from it, though, and I’ve also learned that I have to give you space. Be there for you, if you want me back. Give away my shoulder to your tears even if it falls off. I don’t know more about life than you do— but I want to learn with you.”

You find comfort in her arms, it’s a kind of closeness you have missed madly. It’s been a long time since you last felt loved by her; seen, known, acknowledged. While she walked away after half-finding out about the bet, you pushed her even further too.

“What are you going to do about Jungkook?” she asks again.

“He still doesn’t know it was all in his head,” you say, “if Jimin hasn’t told him, that is.” Ari shakes her head. “So… I guess I’ll wait to see if he comes back asking for my forgiveness.”

“What he did was unfair, but don’t you think he deserves some sympathy too?”

You shake your head as well. “Why should I be the bigger person? Am I not allowed to be hurt? When I was a cheating bitch, oh, then everyone would judge me— but know he deserves my sympathy?”

Ari shrugs. “Not forcing you, it’s up to you whether you do it or not.”

“Even giving me the choice feels unfair.”

Then she looks up at you; her eyes watch you carefully at first, as if she was eyeing an animal, but then they soften, and a smile creeps to her lips.

“Treat him as kindly as you wanted to be treated yourself. That is your only free choice in this world.”

But your pride won’t let you. You’ve been hurt and beaten and humiliated so many times, and you were so little used to it, that your pride is swollen and wounded. It hurts just to think about giving it up and forgiving him; the mourning part of you wants him to suffer as much as he made you suffer. But then— then you think of the way he cried when he thought you had left him, and you remember that he only acts like a jerk when he feels the threat of heartbreak, and you think about how scared he must have been back then.

Then you think of all the times you have cried yourself, wondering why everyone is so cold and unfeeling with each other. Trying to mimic them. All those times you hated yourself for not being strong, that relentless you who never did anything stupid, who never hurt anyone out of fear. You were never that person.

Neither is Jungkook.

Some part of you wants him to suffer, yes. It’s the same voice that whispers that you deserve it too; all the pain and despair and loneliness in the world for not knowing any better. You’re just like him, you realise.

Does he technically deserve it? Well, no. But again, it’s true that kindness is not something to be deserving of, to earn; it’s blind. Love, too, is blind. You can’t see shit right now.

“I just need some time,” you murmur.

“Well, if it helps, I think everyone is doomed to make mistakes,” Ari says again as she gets up. “It’s hard to be perfect when you’ve got feelings.”

“Where are you going?”

“Uh, I’d better go home and get ready for the party,” she says with a grimace.

You frown. “What party—? Oh, the graduation party?”

“Yeah… It starts in an hour, and I promised Jimin I would be on time to help him choose the tie.”

“I totally forgot,” you murmur, looking away. “It’s prom-themed, isn’t it? I think Seokjin told me… Do you think Professor Choi will mind if I don’t come? I’m not feeling like going to any parties right now.”

“He won’t,” Ari replies.

You nod, and she gets her purse.

“I’ll be on my way now.” She kisses your forehead and runs back to the door. “Hit me up if you end up coming!”

“Sure.”

And now, with the door slamming shut behind her, Ari’s gone. Suddenly you’re back to being alone in your empty flat, sulking and pondering. You’re such a mess, you have no idea what to think or feel – or rather, you can’t make up your mind between being mad and relieved that it was all a misunderstanding.

What are you supposed to do with the pain, then? Gulp it down and swallow it? Pretend that it never happened, that you never suffered? But, you know, pretending has become too hard lately.

Somehow, you wander around the house and end up in your bedroom.

Jungkook must have come to take the rest of his stuff since most of his things are missing; even his platform boots, which he’d keep under your bed due to their side – and because you’d trip over them all the time – are not there anymore. His skin care products have disappeared from the bathroom, and the flat no longer smells of his body lotion. It’s as if his presence had said goodbye and closed the door behind it.

There are not too many options here, though: you can either forgive him or not. You can either take him back and punish him for it or not.

Jungkook hurt you, that is true. You were in pain because of his actions. But something inside you can’t help connecting with his pain, too; you know that feeling far too well – of not being enough, of thinking yourself to be deserving of being treated badly, of having earned the pain.

So, even now, when you’re trying to picture all the reasons why you’re angry at him, you can’t help but fish for excuses. You feel stupid, and you know yourself to be in love. Not the first fool on this planet to be either.

But, at this point, perhaps you’ve become too familiar with the pain, and especially, with the possibility of it. You’re no longer afraid of being hurt. It could be because you’re numb, but also because Ari is right: you’re stronger than what you give yourself credit for. Maybe this is the worst decision of your life, or maybe not. You’ll see— for now, you want to see Jungkook.

You get up from your bed, where you had been sitting during your reflection. Your wardrobe is right in front of you. You open it and browse through what you might wear to the party you’ve supposedly helped plan.

Actually, there isn’t anything you could possibly wear to a ‘prom’ except for a minidress and a pair of heels, and that isn’t exactly prom-like.

Then you remember when you and Jungkook looked at your high school pictures, back when you were crowned prom queen. You were wearing a long pearl-white satin dress that is probably rotting in a thrift shop box somewhere, and you had borrowed a pair of heeled sandals from your mother which you ended up breaking. She was furious.

You might not have that dress with you anymore, but it’s not like you’d ever wear that again.

God, it was ugly.

So, you grab whatever feels comfortable. You’re gonna be looking hot anyways, and it’s supposed to be for the seniors. Then you text Ari asking her to pick you up, and by the time she gets here, you’re ready.

“I was honestly so sure you wouldn’t come,” she says, getting back into the car as you take a seat next to her. “What changed your mind?”

You keep your eyes straight forward. “I don’t know… I guess this whole thing started to feel a bit silly.”

“You better vote Namjoon for prom king.”

“I didn’t know we were doing that,” you reply with a chuckle, and Ari rolls her eyes. “The greatest party planner in the world, that’s what I am. Just so you know, Seokjin was supposed to keep me posted, and he didn’t.”

“Poor you.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, Y/N, you look nice—”

You let out the most screeching, freaked-out, and high-pitched scream when Jimin, dressed in a burgundy suit, sits up in the back seat and suddenly enters your field of vision as the coat covering him slides down his body. Truly, it leaves you on the verge of a heart attack, and you turn towards him intending to glare at him to death.

“Jesus Christ,” you cry out. “Were you there all along?”

“Yeah… I didn’t sleep very well yesterday, so I was taking a nap in the car to get me through the evening.”

You roll your eyes. “Cool.”

Jimin scoots closer to the back of your seat and hugs it. He’s wearing an aquamarine blue tie and looks as handsome as ever. He must be up to something.

“So,” he begins, and you stifle a sigh, “can we talk about Jungkook already? Or is he still taboo?”

“Yes, we can and must talk about Jungkook,” Ari says.

“Is he coming?” She nods. “Good—”

“Yes! That’s my girl!” she shouts out then, raising her free arm in celebration. “Ugh, I can’t believe this is all coming to an end! Finally—!” You stare at her, and it makes her quiet down her enthusiasm. “Finally, the consequences of our own actions…”

Jimin snickers and shrugs. “But you have to thank us; technically, you wouldn’t have found the love of your life if we hadn’t forced him into your flat.” He’s so shameless that you can only laugh at his words, though. “What? Don’t laugh! It’s true! Our brilliant plan worked! You can’t deny it!”

“Yeah, it did, it did…”

“And Tae’s idea to pretend you overheard us? Chef’s kiss,” he says then, and you glance at him.

“Don’t brag now that she has forgiven us, idiot,” Ari groans.

“Yeah, idiot.”

It doesn’t take the three of you long to reach the sports hall, where the graduation party is being held. You see a couple of students handing out ballots to everyone who enters the building, and a handful of professors, decked out to the gills, are keeping a wary eye on the area. Ari is lucky to spot an empty parking space, so she pulls in and parks the car there.

“Okay, are you ready?” Jimin helps her step out of the car, and then he rushes to help you too. “Really, you two look really pretty.”

You look down at your outfit.

“Thanks, I wasn’t sure I’d be decent looking for tonight…”

“Nonsense, you look great,” Ari says, taking your arm and walking you to the entrance. “Stunning, beautiful, breathtaking, lovely. Drop-dead gorgeous.”

You let out a chuckle. “Jeez, a ‘you look fine’ would’ve been enough, but thank you.”

“Fine? That wouldn’t have done you justice.”

You're fidgety as you walk into the pavilion; the halls and rooms are considerably darker now, colourful lamps lighted up and hanging from the ceiling. Some glitter balls blind everyone they catch with their glare, shoving their rainbow beams in their faces.

Your body gets used to the music quickly, and suddenly you find yourself doing a little dance as you survey the spacious room.

“Do you want us to leave?”

“Yeah, you can go dancing, don’t worry about me,” you reply with a smile over the music.

Ari smiles and nods, and a second later she’s dragging a happy Jimin across the dancefloor. You, for your part, continue to weave through the tide of people bordering around the floor. Your eyes search and search, hoping to find your target, but apart from a few familiar faces from class and people you remember passing in the corridors, there is no sign of Jeon Jungkook.

Maybe he’s left already. After all, the party has been going on for a while now since your friends like to be ‘fashionably late’. So, he could be back in his room right now, or even out of town for an early weekend.

Now that you think about it, this is the last place where you’d think you’d find him.

All these bodies crammed together, this music so loud you can barely make it out from their voices, all these sweaty, half-drunk people who keep waving at you and offering you a drink. This is really the last place in the world that heartbroken Jungkook would want to be.

But he came, that much you know. Jungkook was here at some point.

And you can imagine where he is now.

You rush to put your ballot with Namjoon’s name on it into the box and look for a way out. You have to squeeze yourself past some people, but you manage to get out – and get some fresh air.

“No way I would’ve survived in there for four hours.”

In less than a couple of minutes, you cross the lawn and enter the other building. You walk past the outdoor swimming pool, which is covered by a blue tarpaulin so that no idiots can jump in. Although, of course, there will be.

The lights at the entrance of the natatorium are all off. You can barely make out the lockers or the floor thanks to the little sunlight that filters through the small windows at the top. And there’s an acrid, harsh smell that kind of throws you off. But whatever, you know the place like the back of your hand, and by straining your eyes, you make your way through the corridors to the stairs.

The natatorium is completely silent by the time you arrive. The water ripples calmly, and the amber evening light floods the four walls from the huge glass panels both above and to the sides.

You make your way to the bleachers and go down the steps.

At first, you see only a tangle of metal poles, an endless vision of silver lines crisscrossing each other. For a second, it crosses your mind that perhaps you don’t know him as well as you thought you did. But then you notice a black figure in the background, hidden and crouched, and you walk up to it out of instinct.

“Jungkook?”

The boy stands up out of surprise, hitting himself on the head with one of the bars above him. Before he can even say hi, Jungkook crouches down, whining in pain.

“Oh, dear!” You rush to his side, worried, although smiling. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

He nods slowly. “Huh, it doesn’t hurt much… How did you know I’d be here?” he asks, finally looking up at you.

You shrug.

“Call it a hunch. It really doesn’t hurt?”

“Yeah, I’m good, really,” Jungkook murmurs then, and a soft blush appears on his cheeks. He can’t help smiling at your worried tone. He was deprived of it for too long.

You sit next to him on the floor instead. Jungkook seems to shrink at your closeness and expand towards you at the same time. Like a reactive mass, unable to ignore you – both terrified of your presence and doomed to crave it like an idiot. So, you sit down with him, and he stays still.

There are so many things crossing his mind right now; why are you here, why did you come? To tell him that he’s an asshole and an idiot and you don’t want to be with him anymore? This silence is wiping his last bits of hope out, it’s annihilating his patience and his mental stability. Can you please say something already? Jesus! Did you come here only to torture him with your silence—?

“I know all about it,” you whisper. “Baby, I know. Don’t worry.”

He feels cold all over out of a sudden.

“What?”

“How could you think I’d ever do such a thing?” you ask then, taking his face in your hands so that he’ll look at you.

Your stomach twists with anticipation, and you are short of breath. There are too many emotions mixed up inside you, and you don’t know exactly how to manage them, but right now, your top priority is Jungkook.

That’s the one thing you’re sure of; to show him that you’re still here and that it’s not the end of the world.

Jungkook’s breath hatches. “You were so upset after what happened… And because— it made sense. It made sense that you’d dump me.”

“No, it did not.”

You pull him into a hug, the tightest hug you think you remember ever giving. You hunger for his warmth, which seeps through the fabric of your clothes and into your body. He still smells soft and mellow. You tighten your arms around him, and he does the same, and suddenly you’re out of breath but so, so happy that you feel you’re about to cry.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” you hear him murmur against your cheek.

Jungkook’s voice is low with shame. You only chuckle, pressing harder against him as your hands dance up and down his back at a soothing pace.

“It’s okay,” you reply, “I forgive you.”

Maybe you could’ve just shrugged it off, maybe that would have made him feel better. Maybe you could have responded with a sorry of your own, an apology for not coming up to him earlier, but you don’t think that’s what he needs to hear. It certainly is not what you want to say.

Jungkook lets out a soft sob and whimpers, “I was such a jerk, I— I even tried to—” Tears follow a second later, cutting him off. “Shit, I’m so sorry…”

“I know.”

“It was so childish of me—! I should’ve talked to you first, I’m so sorry I was such a jerk,” he insists.

“Yes, you should have.”

Suddenly Jungkook goes silent, his doe eyes fixed on yours in an attempt to look through you; won’t you tell him off? Won’t you scream at him, tell him to fuck off? He fucked up badly this time; he has totally ruined any kind of trust you had in him before.

“Why—? Please,” he pleads out of the blue, tears running down his cheeks, “hate me, yell at me, do something!” His heart is aching at the mere possibility of you breaking up with him. What else could your tender, understanding words mean? Only that you will spare him without much cruelty. “D-don’t just— don’t just keep talking nonsense! I was an asshole! Just t-tell me if you want me back!”

You smile softly and cup his cheeks. “Never said I didn’t.”

“Fuck—”

So, he almost had sex with another girl, and this is your reaction? Gentle smiles and tender caresses and loving looks? Do you really care so little about him?

“Yes, you made a mistake, one that hurt me,” you whisper then, “but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be hated or yelled at. And I never stopped wanting you.” It hurts to say those words, but you know it’s for the best – you know it’s your brain screaming in fear. “I love you, Jungkook. None of your mistakes will change the way I feel about you.”

You’ve never seen such a shocked, tender, endearing look before; the way his eyes widen in surprise as your words sink in, the way his bottom lips tremble, or how his body instinctively budges forward chasing yours.

“But I hurt you—”

“Yes” – your hands find his wet cheeks again – “and I forgive you.”

Your heart still aches, waiting to hear him say those words back, but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen. So, you accept the situation and pull your hand away, but Jungkook takes it between his fingers just to stare at you. There’s this look of tenacity in them—

“Are you done, noona?”

It’s started to rain. The gentle drops falling on you become stronger and stronger, seeping through your clothes. You haven’t brought a jacket, and the dress you’re wearing doesn’t exactly do a very good job of keeping you warm. A shiver runs down your spine. It’s a pity that summer is coming to an end.

“What—?”

“Are you done with all this bullshit?” he cuts you off.

The harshness makes you halt. Any intention of being sweet and understanding vanishes, and you’re left frozen in his arms. You frown, but that’s about it; Jungkook remains silent with a stern look, one of steady passion, at your quietness. He’s adamant about tearing the pain off you.

Maybe it’s the silence, you think again. Maybe that’s why your mind keeps processing thoughts, overwhelmed by the nothingness, unrelentingly trying to find some meaning to his words – since he won’t explain himself.

A puff of air comes out through your lips, followed by a whimper, and you burst out in tears.

“Don’t—” Your breath hitches amidst sobs, and you hit his chest with clenched fists but no strength at all. “Don’t ever do this to me again, okay?” Jungkook smiles as he holds you, ignoring how your tears smear down his wet cheeks. “You were so fucking unfair! It hurt so fucking much—!”

He waits until you calm down to stroke your face with a soft gaze. “Y/N?” You look at him. “I love you too.”

Your heart aches with emotion.

“You better do.”

“I love you,” Jungkook repeats, raising his voice as it echoes through the rooftop, and kisses you on the lips, holding you tight and close, “I love you! I love you, noona! And I want everyone to know!”

“You’re such an idiot,” you let out with a soft laugh.

“Oh my god—!” His sudden exclamation makes you jump, and he sits up as he takes off his suit jacket. “Put this on, noona, or you’ll get sick. I can’t believe I didn’t notice! You must be freezing.”

You shrug. “We’re both drenched, Jungkook. I think we should get going.”

“Yeah, let’s go to my room.” Jungkook gets up first and holds out his hand to help you up. “I can lend you some dry clothes there so, you’ll be comfier.”

“Thanks— wait,” you let out and grab his hand, making Jungkook stop in his tracks. “Aren’t we, uh, indoors? How come it’s raining—? Oh, it’s the fire alarm, it’s gone off,” you realise, looking at him with an amused smile. “I swear, for a moment I thought it was raining. It suited the moment so well that I didn’t even stop to think about it.”

“Yeah, you’re so silly, noona,” he giggles.

You hug his waist and let him walk you up the steps. “Don’t lie, you didn’t notice either.”

“But it makes for a pretty picture,” Jungkook jokes. “A love confession in the rain. Wherever the rain comes from, well, let’s just take it as it is.”

An angry exclamation echoes from the other side of the natatorium; the janitor is dragging some students out of the changing rooms, and one of them throws a cigarette on the floor. That must have been what you smelled on the way up. With his third ninja eye, the old man suddenly turns to where you’re hiding, but Jungkook is quick and ducks.

“Anyone still there?” he yells. “C’mon, everyone back to the party! I don’t wanna see anybody here!”

You wait until the old man is done sending off the kids to come out of your hideout.

There is no one left in the pavilion by the time you leave; the janitor has gone to his sentry box and the students, probably scared off by him, must have returned to the main building to re-join the party.

Jungkook’s hand is tightly wrapped around yours as you walk out. Unseen by either your friends or other students, you head to the dorms in comfortable silence, cringing at the feeling of damp fabric sticking to your skin. You want to tear it off immediately, but you have to wait until you get to his room.

Once you arrive, he opens the door and steps back to let you in first.

“Make yourself at home.”

With growing curiosity, you enter his room and take a look around; you can recognise most of his figurines and posters, and his swimming cap hanging from the wardrobe door.

“I didn’t know you had a roommate,” you say, turning back to him. “Is he a freshman too?”

Jungkook looks away. “Not exactly…” At his vague response, you frown, increasingly confused. “Let’s not worry about it now, noona— you’ll see him at some point. Want a drink or something? I have juice and milkshakes—”

“I’ll settle for some dry clothes for now.”

Jungkook sticks his head out of the mini fridge. “Oh—! Shit, I forgot, yeah…”

You chuckle softly as he stands up and rushes to his drawers, looking perhaps for a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie to lend you. When he finally finds something that fits you, he gives it to you and takes out something to change into. Jungkook is still squatting on the floor, so he looks up at you when you take off your top.

You didn’t put on a bra, and your clothes were cold on your skin, so he gets greeted by the view of your hardened nipples instead.

He must have been staring since he hears you chuckle.

“You make all this fuss and still think you’re gonna hit it tonight?” you joke, tragically getting turned on.

But his face turns an adorable shade of deep red, and Jungkook looks away, either embarrassed or ashamed of his own intentions. His eyes are now fixed on the basic tee in his hands, and he puts it aside to unbutton the dress shirt he was wearing and practically peel it off his skin.

His back muscles bulge and flex under the skin-tight fabric as it struggles to slide down his back. Some of his tattoos peak from under the shirt, and Jungkook uncovers them when he takes it off, neatly folding it before realising that it’s actually going directly into the laundry basket along with your clothes. As for you, your eyes are still glued to him.

Seems like you’re no better than a man.

Jungkook is about to take off his pants when you approach him. Surprised, his body instinctively turns in your direction, hungry for your closeness.

“Let me help you with that,” you practically purr.

Although still shy, he smiles and looks at you. “Don’t you think that’s mean? There’s no need to tease me either.”

Jungkook lets you get your way despite his words; the belt buckle expertly undoes itself in your hands, and you slide the leather through the loops until it’s completely tangled in your hands. A couple of ideas visibly flash through Jungkook’s eyes, but for the time being, he is silent as his bare chest rises and falls. His breath feels hot against your face, he feels hot against your body.

You knew you had missed him like crazy all these weeks, but now you realise that you were sick with want. How you’ve longed to just have him with you again. It hurt so much to be apart.

And, surprisingly, you don’t resent him.

You thought you would, honestly; you thought you’d struggle to forgive him for making his troubles and fears yours. For dragging you down his path of self-inflicted pain. Just like it took you years to forgive Seokjin or your friends.

But, instead, you’re faced with a warm feeling of sympathy – of love. Jungkook whipped himself way more than he should have, imagined you would never take him back after fucking it up so much. You don’t want him to do that, you want him to learn and be nice to himself. For the first time in, perhaps, forever, the thought of loving someone doesn’t feel like a one-way ticket to getting hurt and betrayed but rather like a chance of being loved back.

Jungkook grows fidgety under your silent gaze, melting into a heart-shaped puddle at how lovingly you’re eyeing him. He’s restless with how much he wants to show you how much he actually loves you, and he knows you well enough to know that you’ve got something in mind regarding that.

And your instinct is to kiss each other.

Sliding your hand under his head to grab his nape and push him against your lips, you run your tongue against the corner of his mouth first. A heavy puff of air leaves him, and you take the chance to move away just a little.

His chocolate eyes lock with yours as you try to calm down. Your lips are barely touching each other, and his bated breaths fan against you.

“I adore you,” you whisper.

He feels dizzy. Jungkook shivers in your arms. “Noona—”

“Jungkook, I need you.”

“F-fuck—”

With his entire body trembling with anticipation, he sits you on the bed and hovers over you, his eyes heart-shaped as he melts into you. Those words have a grip on him, the mere sound of your voice saying them was so sweet that his heart is beating like crazy now and his brain is scrambled with affection and longing.

“Oh, bunny,” you coo, and Jungkook keeps leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, “did that get you excited?”

As an answer, he just shoves his hips against yours. His half-hard cock is clearly noticeable under his pants as he humps your clothed thigh, whimpers spilling from his mouth.

You roll your tongue over his with your hands splaying across his back in an attempt to pull him closer. Like a beast being fed, your body is relentlessly oozing hormones, drawing you to each other, quenching your need for each other’s warmth, and soothing an ache after being apart.

Jungkook lets out a puff of air against your neck. “S-shit, I’m so hard—”

“Don’t worry, baby,” you whisper as you kiss from his lips down to his chest. “Let mommy take care of you, okay?”

You notice him going tense on top of you, even if his head remains hidden in the crook of your neck. His cock twitches, too, under the fabric of his pants. The way his hands move quickly to the zip to lower it is a sign that he is not displeased; on the contrary, when Jungkook takes off his pants, shimmying between your legs, his cock is pretty red and wet with precum.

“Missed this too,” you groan between kisses as your hand wraps around his length. It’s hot, and Jungkook whimpers, sinking onto you. “Huh? Hard and ready for mommy.”

He looks up at you with his lips pressed to your neck. “F-fuck, mommy—”

You take off your skirt while he finishes pulling down his trousers, and you both get rid of what’s left of your clothes.

Your hand returns to his cock, and you start pumping him, smearing the precum with your thumb. Jungkook’s hitched breath fans against your chest, leaving a trail of kisses on the valley of your breasts – his cheeks are stained with the red shape of your lips.

“Shit, so good—” he moans. His hips stutter and buck into your hand; there’s a constant wave of pleasure going down his spine. It expands from his toes up to his fingertips, and the more you touch him, the wetter his cock gets. “Oh, God, yes! Fuck, mommy, I— I missed you too, missed you so much—!”

A moan of pure want escapes your lips. “Yeah?”

“Yes, yes—”

You cut him off with another kiss, rolling your tongues over each other and hooking your legs around his waist. With another groan, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, and Jungkook moans.

“Bunny, I’m so wet,” you whisper to his ear as your hand picks up a faster pace.

Probably, Jungkook can even hear your heart beating loudly in your chest. The ache between your thighs only grows tighter, making your cunt drip and smear your arousal against his balls as he bucks his hips onto his stomach.

He suddenly whimpers. “I’m c-close.”

It’s easy to tell, judging by the sweat covering his skin and his dilated pupils. You love the way the engorged tip of his cock peeks from between your fingers.

“Mommy, m-mommy—” Jungkook chants then, fucking your hand. When he reaches the tipping point, you let out a wicked giggle and move away your hand, ruining his climax. “No! Please, please, p-please! Please, b-bunny cum, bunny— p-please!” he cries out as his body writhes on top of you in pure frustration.

You peck him on the lips. “You had this one coming, babe.”

Jungkook tries to calm down as he writhes over you, so you start running your hands up and down his back, stroking him with a gentle smile. His face is alight with a lovely blush, eyes glassy and locked with yours.

Hot and heavy against your palm, his cock gets even harder, desperate for the friction of your ministrations to return.

You let out a soft chuckle. “What are you doing—?”

He has begun to leave a trail of kisses down to your chest, where he finally rests his head. As his lips reach one of your nipples, Jungkook shuts his eyes and holds your breast, his breath fanning harshly through his nose. It’s physically impossible, but you shift on the mattress to fix your posture until your core is right beneath his cock.

That’s all the encouragement he needs before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. The contact sends shivers down your spine, you’re getting impatient.

Greedily, Jungkook moves to your other tit without daring to neglect the other and flicks your sensitive nub between his fingers, kneading the tender flesh. You let out a low groan, and your hand slaps his butt out of instinct.

“God,” he gasps, completely out of breath, “I fucking love your tits.”

“Baby likes mommy’s tits, understandably.”

“Shit,” Jungkook moans again as his hips start rutting against your dripping folds, “y-yeah, baby likes mommy’s tits, mommy’s— mommy’s cunt, mommy’s e-everything.”

You look down at him and spank him again. “Getting worked up, aren’t we?”

He then sucks on your nipple.

“Been worked up since you took your top off.”

For some reason, you’re really liking this sudden outburst of confidence in him. It’s like you’re no longer ashamed of doing things to him, of wanting to do things to him; that shameless sparkle in his eyes, one of total, blatant desperation, as if he’d let you do anything as long as you let him touch and enjoy you. Like he’s truly enjoying himself this time without getting anxious about his performance.

“Thought so,” you groan. You can feel his teeth sinking into the side of your boob. “I’m worked up too, bunny, eat me out—”

“Fuck yes.”

In a second, he’s kneeling on the mattress between your spread legs, staring at your folds as if he’s never seen one before. His pupils are dilated, a certain sense of desperation taking over him; he needs to have your cunt against his tongue right now.

Peppering featherlight kisses along your inner thighs, Jungkook makes eye contact with you just to see how you begin to lose composure, pushing his head. He lets out an amused ‘sorry’ and sticks out his tongue, parting your folds and delving his tongue into your entrance. Your taste is as good as he remembers, your arousal taking over his poor scrambled brain. Your skin is so warm, too, thighs tightening around his head when he starts flicking his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, bunny—” you groan and throw your head back on the pillow.

With your juices smeared all over his face and saliva running down his chin, Jungkook is desperate about making you come – there’s nothing else on his mind right now.

He grips your ass to shove his face on your cunt and starts fucking you with his tongue. His nose rubs against your sensitive nub, and you can’t help but grab his hair and pull with a loud moan escaping your lips.

“Shit, shit— baby, don’t stop, d-don’t,” you manage to tell him, “Mommy’s gonna cum—”

Tongue lapping your pussy like crazy, Jungkook does as told and doesn’t stop sucking on your clit. His eyes have lost focus.

“F-fuck, good boy—”

“Good boy,” he repeats without thinking.

You spread your legs even more and push your knees against your chest, hoping to reduce any distance between your body and his to zero. Jungkook gets it immediately and grabs your hips. Now he’s lifting you and drawing his lips down to your entrance more easily just to give your pussy broad strokes with his tongue flat.

“Mommy,” he suddenly whines, “I— you’re s-so wet, shit, so, so—”

“So what, bunny?” you manage to ask.

“Fuck, I could slide right in,” Jungkook says as he kisses your clit, “so wet and hot, could slide my cock right in—”

You resist the urge to moan. “Y-yeah? Think you could fuck me with your dumb cock?”

“Fuck, yes—”

“You’d spill your pretty cum all over me in a second, bunny,” you say with feigned pity, feeling breathless and euphoric as your climax starts to build in the pit of your stomach. “Your dumb bunny cock couldn’t hold it— y-you’d fill me up in no time!”

Your back arches when the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. Jungkook isn’t even bothering to wipe your juices off his eyelashes; rather go blind than miss a second of devouring your pussy. He lets you rest a bit when he goes back to fucking you with his tongue, but as soon as you’re not oversensitive, he returns to your clit with puckered lips.

“You’re going to make me cum, Jungkook—”

He just moans at your words. “Please, please, wanna have mommy coming all— all over my face!”

“So greedy,” you mock him.

That’s when you stop talking and melt into the coiling tension in the pit of your stomach; with a moan, you feel it engorge, expand across your body, and grip your very core as you come. He goes on a frenzy, slurping your arousal to help you ride out your climax.

“Fuck, baby,” you let out, “you’re— you’re such a good boy.”

Jungkook climbs up to you and smashes his lips against yours, moving away barely a few inches before he says, “Your good boy, a-always.”

With a soft, tired smile, you rake your nails through his hair.

“Mine...”

The both of you use the next second to catch your breath. It’s crazy how much you’ve missed feeling his body and his warmth, having him lie down next to you, just the chance to spoil him rotten with kisses all over his cheeks and lips. After such an intense moment, it’s nice to allow yourself to take a break to pamper each other.

“How are you doing, bunny? Hm? All good?”

“Well...” Jungkook looks away from you, and you raise an eyebrow. “I really, really wanna come, mommy—”

“Sit up,” you say, doing the same.

He sits up on his knees and waits patiently, almost like an obedient puppy, for your next order. You can see the way his pierced cock springs up against his tummy, swollen, red, and dripping precum.

You grip his hips and beckon him to lie down on his back.

“You had your bit of fun, baby. Time for mommy to take charge. Arms up and stay still.”

Doing as told, Jungkook raises his arms with expectation. You leave kisses on his cheeks, neck, and chest, licking over his nipples and quivering under your touch. Feeling a little playful, you nibble on his ribcage and continue down his happy trail until you reach his crotch. He’s leaking already but, making eye contact, you let a trickle of saliva drip on his engorged tip. Not content, however, you get more comfortable over him and spit directly on his cock.

“That’s all you get, bunny,” you groan, voice low with arousal.

Jungkook’s pupils shiver, and his mouth is parted, unable to close it. The mere thought of you spitting anywhere on him is far more exciting than he first thought.

“Quiet now?” With your thumb pressing on the barbell, you let out a quiet chuckle. “Thought you’d be babbling and whining like a bitch.”

It finally snaps him out. “Please— please, I wanna come—”

“Shut up.”

And you finally swallow around his length. Your press your head down as you feel his cock slide into your parted lips, and Jungkook sobs, overwhelmed by the feeling of your wet heat around him. His hips jerk and buck into your mouth, but you’re quick to pin them down on the bed with a glare.

“S-sorry, mommy, ugh!” Jungkook grips the sheets around his head for balance. “Oh fuck, o-oh, shit!”

Heat pools in his lower back, too much tension pent up after suffering from your teasing and ministrations. Nobody touches him the way you do, nobody turns him on the way you do, nobody makes his heart flutter the way you do.

An entire iceberg could melt against his burning cheeks. Using hands and lips together, you play gently with his balls while dipping your tongue into his slit and flickering your tongue on the barbell.

With hollowed cheeks, you bob your head up and down Jungkook’s cock, never looking away. You couldn’t miss the tears flowing down his cheeks or the way his heart-shaped pupils stare at you with the utmost adoration. He’s trying to hold back his moans when you swirl your tongue and engulf him again, but it’s to no avail because his shaky breaths slip out anyway. He’s a trembling prey under your control, waiting to be devoured.

You slide his cock out of your mouth for a second. Your lips look red and swollen, and Jungkook pictures how you looked with his cum all over them.

When you notice he’s close to cumming again, you give his tip one last lick and a peck. He whines and begs you not to stop, but you sit on his lap without taking notice of any of his words.

“Tongue.”

It takes him a few seconds, but Jungkook obeys and sticks his tongue out, unsure but totally in.

Grabbing his chin, you smirk and force him to look up at you before you spit directly in his mouth. He doesn’t have much time to process it before you’re kissing him hard, hands tangling around his neck, but you can feel his cock twitching against your inner thigh.

As the kiss grows in passion, Jungkook melts into you, no longer aware of any part of the universe that is not you or him. You suck on his tongue while getting comfortable on his lap, and your hand wraps around his length again, resuming its movements as it pumps it up and down without mercy.

“Jungkook I wanna ride your cock,” you let out in a deep breath between kisses.

He fixes your seat on top of him when something pops up in his head:

“I-I don’t— I don’t have any condoms.”

You kiss him again with your hand on his nape. “Don’t care, I’m on the pill, and I’m clean. What do you think?”

“But mommy, I’m not gonna last then,” he cries out.

“I don’t fucking care.”

You place your hands on his chest and straddle his hips. This way, his hard cock aligns with your entrance, and all you have to do is sink down onto him.

“Oh, fuck, bunny—”

His cock stretches you out with only a slight hint of pain, the good kind, as it works you open as you adjust to his size. Jungkook squints his eyes when he sees his length disappear into your body, and the contact is so raw and wet and hot and fuck, you’re dripping, you’re actually leaking arousal down your thighs, and now he’s swallowed by your warmth. He’s never going to get over this, he thinks as you bend down to leave a trail of kisses down his neck.

“I’m— I’m going mad,” he whispers. “M-mommy’s cunt feels so fucking good, wanna fill you up— until you’re leaking— ugh!”

You’ve started rolling your hips, bouncing up and down his cock. His eyes are glued to your folds, it’s really incredible the way you’re taking him. His tip bumps into your sweet spot incessantly, sounds of smacking flesh flooding the otherwise quiet room.

Jungkook tries to pound back up into you, let his balls swing against your ass as he fucks you.

“Fuck, bunny, I love your cock, it was made for me,” you moan. The pace that your hips pick up becomes brutal almost. “My bunny, my baby— mine alone, no one else’s, r-right? Say it—”

“Yours,” he struggles to say.

You kiss him again, harshly this time. “Mine… Mine to touch, to kiss, to fuck—” you grunt; your skin heats up as your climax builds in, and Jungkook can only try to survive his approaching orgasm. “Mommy’s only, t-this cock is mommy’s only. Only— only you can fuck mommy.”

He throbs inside of you instantly, his face contorted in pure pleasure as you keep bouncing on his cock.

It slides into your dripping cunt so easily, of course, you waited a long time for this; your swollen clit rubs against his pubic bone, throwing you closer to the edge.

“Slow, please,” Jungkook cries out, “slow down. Fuck, mommy, I’m— coming, Y/N, shit, shit—!”

But his sudden panic is nothing but amusing to you, who takes this chance to start riding him faster and flick his nipples between your fingertips. Jungkook lets out a shaky breath and begs you to slow down even only a bit, begs you to let him last longer, but then his breath hitches and he is no longer able to plead for mercy.

His cock twitches again, and this time his hips can’t follow its rhythm, stuttering and bucking without any control. His breathy moans turn into whines, and with one last powerful thrust down onto his length, Jungkook’s eyes roll back, and he goes still.

Jungkook smacks his hands around your hips and fucks into you, bouncing you up and down his cock.

“F-fucking Christ! Mommy! Oh fuck!”

You feel him emptying himself inside of you, and shit, it’s way better than you imagined – his cum fills you up to the brim, warm and lovely, and leaks down your inner thighs as soon as he’s done spilling his load.

But your hips never stop rolling down onto him, clit rubbing against his pubic bone in search of friction. With his doe eyes, Jungkook looks up at you, confused and frowning at the overstimulation. You only chuckle in response and bend down to get momentum, wrapping your hand around his neck.

“Not gonna stop till you make me come, bunny.”

He blinks. “W-what?”

“I’ll keep fucking you and making you come until you use the words,” you grunt and bite his neck, making him yelp, “understood?”

“Fuck, f-fuck—”

His softened cock doesn’t take long before getting hard inside of you again, rubbing against your walls. It hurts like hell, makes him squirm and writhe on the bed under your cruel lovemaking, but Jungkook feels so utterly yours, and that alone is enough to get him hard.

You stroke his wet hair.

“Don’t worry, I’m close,” you groan then. “You’re such a good boy, baby, so good for mommy… Shit, fucking me open with your big dumb cock.” He thanks you for the praise with a thrust up into you. “I love you so much, Kookie, s-so much, let’s— let’s finish together, huh? Want you to fill me up until I’m dripping with your—”

“C-can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because… it’s wrong!” he whimpers, already teetering on the edge again.

You kiss his lips and repeat, “Why?”

“Because if I come— come inside, we’ll m-make a baby!”

Even if Jungkook, with his high-pitched voice and his trembling body, tries to warn you about something that already happened a few minutes ago, you can’t help thinking that he’s a bit too much into the idea anyway, judging by the way that his cock twitches inside of you at the mere mention.

You can’t help chuckling.

“And we don’t want that, huh? We don’t want all your cum leaking out of my cunt because you came so hard,” you grunt to his ear. “That’d be a pity, such a waste…”

His cock throbs between your walls, and you can’t help clenching around him in excitement.

“M-mommy,” Jungkook cries again, nuzzling your neck.

The ache between your legs grows again, it builds so deep you think you might cum properly tonight. You keep letting out shaking breaths as you let him help you up and down his cock, your thighs too tired to keep doing all the work. He’s practically fucking himself into you, faster and faster as the both of you chase your and each other’s climax.

“S-such a pity you don’t wanna fill mommy up, bunny. I’d love to fuck you and make you cum inside again and again.” Your nails find his bronzed chest, nails sinking into the tight, sweaty flesh. He’s so handsome. “Until you’re a babbling mess that can’t even beg me to stop.”

“I love you too—”

“Yeah?”

Jungkook has to close his eyes this time. “S-so much, I love you, fuck!”

“That’s it, g-good boy,” you praise him in a moan and roll your hips once again. “Jungkook,” you suddenly warn him, looking down at him, “j-just so you know— I’m not pissing myself, okay?”

He looks up and you as he understands. “Y-you— for real?” You nod. “Shit, yes, please, please, mommy, spill it all over me—”

“So dirty.”

The pleasure in the pit of your stomach builds and grows. You ride him faster despite the burn in your thighs, and you cover your mouth to silence any loud sounds. His cock slides into you and bumps gently against your cervix, rubbing your sweet spot again and again.

Then, your muscles tighten.

“Fuck, I’m coming, bunny, wanna do it w-with me?”

Jungkook nods eagerly, probably already on the verge too, and grips your hand before placing it on his chest, never letting go of them. Finally, with the sparkle exploding inside the both of you and a loud moan, the shockwaves of your climax grip your body, and you let yourself go, stopping the pressure and spilling all over his pubis and cock. Jungkook comes barely a few seconds later with your walls clenching around him, emptying himself inside you with his eyes glued to the clear fluids spilled on him.

He lets out a whimper. “S-stop, please, stop, that’s—”

Once you’re done milking every last drop of his seed, you slide off his cock and collapse on top of him. You feel as if a truck had run you over.

“Didn’t know you could squirt,” Jungkook murmurs, wrapping himself around your body.

“Didn’t know you were into knocking me up.”

He turns an adorable shade of red and hides his face between your breasts. First, you coo at him, but then you feel his tongue poking out and licking one of your nipples, and you tap him on the head to get his attention.

“Can’t wait for a second round?” you say. “Either that or use your hand.”

“Getting old, huh?”

Silence settles between you; as you calmly catch your breath and let your fingernails scratch his head, Jungkook gets up to grab some towels and clean you up. When he returns to the bed, he lies back down with you.

“I know the bed is small, but don’t go, please,” Jungkook whispers, gently resting his forehead against yours. As he pulls you closer, his pupils tremble, always so strong-willed. “Stay…”

However, this time, you don’t have the energy to fight him. Nor the intention – his arms feel warm around you, and his skin is ever so soothing. You don’t want him to move either; want him curled against you, talking sweetly, peppering kisses across your shoulders. But you’re tired, you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, not after such long sleepless nights and anxious days. This time, you lose the battle, and you don’t care.

There’s someone in the room when you wake up. Slowly, you regain your ability to think and spot a figure tidying a backpack with his back turned to you. It takes you a few seconds to remember that you are lying naked on Jungkook’s bed, but once you catch on to the situation, you quickly snatch the sheets to cover yourself up to your nose.

“Oh, sorry, did I wake you up?” Seokjin doesn’t turn to look at you, still focused on his backpack’s contents. “It’s okay, I’ll leave in a second.”

“Don’t worry…”

Okay, so this is Jungkook’s mysterious new roommate... Now you get why he didn't want to talk about it last night. But if they’re okay with the situation, you won't say anything.

That’s when you notice Jungkook’s heavy, overly warm body stir behind you. He’s muttering something you don’t quite make out, and soon you feel his lips kissing your shoulders as his groggy arms wrap around you.

“Good morning, noona,” he says with a smile. “Did you sleep well? You know, my ass still hurts.”

As he chuckles at his own words, you can’t help sighing. Seokjin laughs too and, finally aware of his presence, Jungkook sits up. You glance sideways at him over your shoulder smiling, amused by his soft blush. Well, at least you’re not the only mortified loser here, are you? And he’s always so cute when he gets flustered.

“I-I completely forgot you’d be here, hyung,” he mutters.

‘Hyung’? You look at Seokjin, arching an eyebrow. Since when does Jungkook call him ‘hyung’? That’s suspicious.

But Seokjin simply lets out a natural laugh. “Where else should I be? It’s nine in the morning, and some of us have things to do, you know; people to see, places to go.”

“Well, I had things to go, too, places to see,” Jungkook says then, looking at you and kissing your jaw, “people to do.” But you nudge him, making him let out a groan of pain mixed with a breathless chuckle. “I was just joking, noona, don’t get mad—”

“How come you two are such good friends now?” you ask, squinting your eyes. “I thought you’d be at each other’s throats.”

“Seokjin-hyung told me what actually happened at the flat. Sorry I wouldn’t listen.”

“You better be,” you purr in his ear, a bit louder than you should if you in fact didn’t want Seokjin to hear; “I can’t believe you’d rather listen to the evil ex-boyfriend than your poor, innocent girlfriend.”

“I might have listened to her if I had a girlfriend like that,” he teases you instead.

“You must be a very faithful man, then— begging for mercy from someone you know has none at all.”

You lean in for a kiss, cupping his cheek as Jungkook reciprocates, his eyes fluttering closed. You brush your lips against his before biting down on them, drink up his little whimper, and take the chance to swirl your tongues together. Jungkook shifts on the mattress so that he can hug your waist, his chest warming up against your skin.

“I guess that’s my clue to get out.” Shit, you completely forgot about Seokjin. “Don’t be too loud and use protection. I’ll see you at practice!” he says to Jungkook. “And Y/N, I will see you around.”

Then the door closes behind him.

“That was weird.”

But the two of you seem to have very different conversation priorities in mind.

“You know, yesterday, um, we didn’t have time to fully talk things out,” he murmurs once Seokjin is gone, lowering his eyes.

You leave a playful peck on his jaw. “Guess our mouths were too busy—”

“N-no, I mean it.” Jungkook gently pushes you away to look into your eyes. “Are we— are we going out now? Like, going out together? As in… formally dating each other?” Your chuckle makes his pupils tremble. “I mean…! I guess it’s okay if you need some time to—”

But you kiss him again instead of saying anything; you cup his cheeks with both of your hands and deepen the contact, shutting him up. The smile doesn’t disappear from your face, though, so you’re looking down at him like a love-drunk idiot when you pull away. He’s just so adorable and precious and sexy and cute and literally your everything.

“Didn’t I just say I’m your girlfriend?” you say then, still grinning. “I was kind of hoping that’d make you my boyfriend in return.”

Jungkook lets out a relieved chuckle and takes your hand when it runs down onto his chest.

“So, do you wanna stay over? We could order some food, watch a movie,” he asks quietly, still emotionally squishy because of the confession, “take a nap, anything you want.”

You smile.

“Of course I’ll stay.”

Don’t hesitate to like, reblog, and leave some feedback if you liked it! It’s always good and encouraging to know what you think <3

“STAY” is copyright ²⁰²² Lola Bangtan, all rights reserved.

#stay jjk #jungkook smut #sub!jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook college au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook bts #sub!bts #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook x noona #bts enemies to lovers #bts college au #jungkook roommates au #bts roommates au

[adrianasunderworld]

So you know how Yuu is the therapist of NRC? I like to think that she somehow ended up extending her services to the villainous henchmen of the House of Mouse. Like there's just a table where she sits down with the hyenas, the card soldiers, Ratigan's minions, Sir Hiss, Pain, Panic, Maleficent's goblin goon things and they all just complain about their bosses as she just nods sympathetically (I bet some of them even refer to her as 'boss lady'). Every day is a constant battle between Iago, Diablo and Queen Grimhilde's crow over who gets to perch on her shoulder.

Sometimes Dr Facilier's shadow comes to cause trouble - when he's not too busy chasing Peter Pan's shadow that is.

It's a repeat of that time they had to do therapy for RSA.

Yuu sets up a space in the backstage section of the club with one of Minnies clipboards.

Yuu: So tell me Mr.Smee about your villain employer. This...Captain Hook, was it?

Smee: He's so obsessed with the idea of getting Peter Pan that he doesn't listen to the wants and needs of the crew, and I'm left to communicate their frustrations to him but he won't listen despite how hard I try to be a good first mate.

Yuu jotting down notes but it's just doodles on a the paper: Uh huh, I see and how does that make you feel?

Smee: At first I didn't mind, but lately I've been a bit frustrated and *sniffle* Unappreciated! 😭

Yuu hands him some tissues: There there, let it all out. This is a safe space.

Smee: Its just, I do so much everyday, without so much as a thank you. I'm a simple guy, I don't need much! I don't think I'm asking a lot!

Meanwhile Mickey walks in, sees this, walks right out.

#twisted wonderland #house of mouse au

[gaysontodd]

april's notebook

i transcribed april's notebook from mutant mayhem. anything in [brackets] im not 100% sure of; part of the top was cut off from the first page so i only have a sentence fragment. enjoy! page one: [cut off] other diseases? - Have you caught covid? (Can you get sick) - Are you the source of covid?

on the right side of the page are a few words with emphasis marks around them and several are underlined. i cant read any of them :(

- Are the weapons from Hot Topic? Pawn shop? Self made?

-How many people has the red bandana turtle stabbed? Does he need therapy? - Can you [indistinct] my apartment [cut off] (clogs a lot)

Unrelated: How much toilet paper is too much for the sewer to handle? - Can you guys be good ninjas if I've seen you [indistinct] (Will you have to kill me now?)

on the left side of the page is a drawing of a turtle foot with an arrow beneath it pointing down to two pictures of turtle hands, one of which is poorly draw and crossed out. the other has '3 FINGERS? HANDLES OR [cut off]' written beneath it in all caps.

page two:

- Do you have superhuman (turtle?) strength? - What do you eat besides pizza? Are there any pizza spots you'd recommend? - Does your blood have acid-like properties?

- What's your lifespan?

- Do your shells molt? - Does your rat dad molt? - Do you have ears? They think they have ears

around the page are various doodles of pizza slices, ninja stars, and a teenage mutant ninja turtle's head, as well as april's signature. thanks @boom-reblogs for the correction on the acid-like blood!

#leo.txt #tmnt #mutant mayhem #april o'neil

[zelphin124]

DISCLAIMER: I do not know much about Therapist!Sans, but I was bored so I thought I'd write a lil script with him giving therapy to Ink!Sans (which I think would be very chaotic)

Also, I've never been to therapy before so I don't know how this technically works 😅

Therapist!Sans belongs to @tehrogueva

Ink!Sans belongs to @comyet

Enjoy!

The room was still. There was no breeze, no sound, and no darkness. Every part of the room was lit with a dim light overhead, erasing the shadows from all of the objects. There was only a wooden chair to the left of the room which was accompanied with a small desk by its side. In front of this chair was a maroon sofa. A rectangular carpet with a pine tree design laid between the furniture.

There wasn't much to observe. In fact, the tan walls of the room were quite barren. Occasionally, there were small papers with green and brown designs hung across the room. There was a small billboard above the desk with a few drawings on them. The door was darker than all the browns in the area. It reflected off the yellow-tinted light. The lights themselves were small lightbulbs hung by a single chain on the ceiling. The air would've been heavy and filled with stench if it wasn't for the air conditioner in the corner.

The dark brown door opened as Ink stepped inside. His eyes lit with curiosity as he observed the room. He wasn't sure why he needed therapy. Heck, he didn't even remember how he got there. Why was he here again?

He checked the notes on his scarf. He tried to make out what he wrote. Ah, there it was. He had gone to therapy because _____ told him to go. He couldn't make out the smudged word of who told him to come here. However, Ink trusted whoever it was; he wouldn't have written it down if the person wasn't someone he trusted.

Or did Error tell him to go to therapy as an insult and he wanted to remember it?

Ink patted himself down when he forgot what he was thinking about. Where was his sketchbook? Did he leave it in the doodle sphere again? He didn't like being bored and had no intention to stay bored. He would've started to draw on the billboard, but he couldn't find the right markers to do so.

The room reminded the guardian of the Anti-Void. He didn't care for big open spaces. He wanted to fill such empty expanses with light, color, and beauty. At least, that's what he wanted to do if he drank his vials.

To his relief, it wasn't completely barren. However, the walls were lacking any decoration. Maybe it was to keep people from being distracted, or it was a new office and it hadn't been decorated yet.

No matter! Ink loved making decorations. He could assist with drawing the pictures and hanging them up! This place would look more vibrant in no time. All he needed was his brush...

His brush that he left outside the office.

Why did he leave it out there again? Ink checked his scarf again. Something about it being too big and whacking things... As well as covering the area in paint...

He eyes glanced back down to the notes he previously read. Someone had told him to go to therapy after he burned down an AU.

Wait... I did WHAT?!

"Good afternoon," an unfamiliar voice said softly behind him. "I apologize for being late. Please, take a seat."

Ink spun around to find a skeleton he had never seen before. He was a variation of Sans like himself. He had large eyes and a genuine smile. Green glasses rested on his non-existent nose; Ink noticed they were taped to the side of his head. Ink could tell he was tired, but not the sleepy kind of tired. It was more the-past-week-has-felt-like-one-giant-day tired.

Ink loved the soft colors that bounced off the skeleton's attire. He wore an off-white wool cardigan and dark brown gloves. His green turtleneck shirt complimented his glasses. The blue shorts on his legs possessed green stripes and visually led onlookers down to his pink slippers. His small hands held a clipboard and a pen made from a small bone. Although Ink saw that he was more expressive than Classic, he could tell the skeleton's shoulders were tense despite his fatigue.

"Hello!" Ink greeted, waving his hand before extending it. "I'm Ink! It's nice to meet you, what's your name?"

"You can call me Doc, Ink," Doc shook Ink's hand before signaling for him to sit down. "Tell me a bit about yourself. I heard that you love art."

"Who told you that? Because loving art is a total understatement," Ink adjusted his clothes as he sat down on the sofa. "I adore it! It's one of the best things in the world! In fact, I wouldn't be here without art! Creativity is a beautiful thing that should inspire others and be shared!"

"Indeed it should," Doc nodded as he wrote something down on his clipboard. "What else do you like to do?"

"Well, I love to inspire others. When I'm not battling Error or chilling with Dream and Swap, I adore going to different AUs and observing people's creations! Sometimes I talk with the creators of the AUs themselves to help them out. Like one time I inspired my friend named XGaster..." Ink trailed off, glancing at the billboard with the small green and brown drawing. "What were we talking about again?"

Doc scribbled more things on his paper before giving a warm smile. "I'm asking some ice-breaker questions before we get started on your therapy," he answered. "I'm here to help you with your problems."

"What problems?" Colorful question marks glimmered in Ink's eyes. Why was it so hard to remember simple things today? He knew his memory was bad, but surely it wasn't always this bad. Is it getting worse? Ink asked himself in his head.

The therapist stared at Ink for a long time. To Ink's surprise, he didn't find the silence uncomfortable. He was perfectly content with the skeleton staring at him and not saying anything at all. Had it been anyone else, Ink would've started to become nervous.

"I have an idea," Doc set his clipboard down. "Why don't we draw something to hang up on my walls? I would love to display some of your art here. Plus, while we are drawing, you can tell me what's been happening in your life recently."

"Oh that would be great!" Joy surged through Ink's mind. "I was going to comment about the emptiness of the room. I wondered why it was so barren."

"This office is new, so I haven't had much time to hang things up yet," Doc answered before he informed Ink he would return with art supplies.

When the therapist returned, Ink wasted no time, grabbing the acrylic paints as quickly as he could. He had so many ideas on what he wanted to draw. He eventually decided he was going to draw a pine forest to match the aesthetic of the room. Doc sat his clipboard by his side as he watched Ink's brush fly across the paper.

Doc didn't even have to ask any questions. Ink started to ramble about his day... At least what he could remember of it. He talked about having tea with Dream and Swap before mentioning his battle with Error. He went on and on about how beautiful OuterTale was before he lost his train of thought.

Doc listened intently, drawing a cliffed landscape and taking notes. "You mentioned Dream and Swap, are these your friends?"

"Oh yeah. We are the Star Sanses. We fight for the AUs and their happiness. We work together a lot," Ink stroked the brown paint on the trunks of his trees. "Although we've been separating lately."

"How does that make you feel?"

Ink glanced away from his art up at the therapist. What an odd question; no one had asked him that before. He started to twitch with his fingers before replying. "I don't know how to answer that question, Doc. I don't really feel anything about it." He glanced down at his vials. "I don't have emotions. I'm given emotions through these vials, but they're fake. Nothing that I feel is actually real. I don't have a soul to feel things."

"I see," Doc picked up his pen and wrote it down on his paper.

"Me and Dream have different motives and intentions for the AUs sometimes. Swap wanted to go home and assist his brother more. I spend most of my time bugging Error about his love for chocolate and the truce he forced me to accept. Although we both kinda broke that recently."

"Tell me more about Error."

Ink told the Doc all that he could recall about the glitched skeleton. He described how they met, how they became enemies, and how the truce was agreed upon. He backtracked to find moments with Error and memorable fights between them. Ink tried to explain to Doc how Error was the only skeleton who could understand him, and yet they were complete opposites, driving them apart.

About an hour had passed. The therapist listened to the guardian closely, however, he stopped Ink when black tears started to run down his face. Ink had gotten emotional when he recalled how Error destroyed most if not all the AUs.

"I... I didn't feel anything at the time," Ink wiped his face. He glanced in confusion at his fingers. Am I crying? "I didn't drink my vials so I felt nothing when Error destroyed the multiverse. But now... It hurts to even think about."

The Doc sat his drawing aside and picked up his clipboard. "Why do you think that is?"

Ink's tears fell onto his drawing. They covered the trees in various patches. He wondered how he could incorporate them into his forest drawing. "I guess... Because I love the AUs and their creativity. I wouldn't want anyone's inspiration to be crushed. I wouldn't want to harm an AU..." He glanced at his scarf. "It says on my scarf I came here because I burned down an AU though..."

"What do you think about that?"

"It doesn't help my reputation..." Ink wiped his face again. "I'm portrayed as a villain now. A lot of people don't like me after certain actions-" He wiped his face again. He didn't like crying. He didn't even know why he was crying, let alone in front of a Sans he didn't know. He didn't feel sad on the inside, but it was as if something inside him had shattered. Did he regret his actions? Was he mourning for the loss of the AUs? Was all the talk about him being a murderous psychopath with no emotions getting to him? He couldn't say. His emotions were confusing as they were. If he couldn't figure himself out, how could Doc Sans figure him out?

"This is good for you to acknowledge all of this," Doc Sans broke his thoughts. His voice was soothing and slow. "There's a lot to unpack here. I would love to meet with you on a regular basis so we can work through all this. Can you meet the same time next week?"

The tears had stopped flowing from the guardians eyes. "Time is a little hard for me to grasp since I love outside of it."

"Oh, yes of course," the therapist replied. "In that case, I'll talk with the office to find a way to signal you to come back when it's time. But might I reassure you in one thing today?"

Ink shrugged. "Go for it."

"You don't just drink one of your vials, right? You drink all of them at once."

Ink glanced down at his paint vials. They glowed with intensity according to their designated color. All of them were nearly empty. "Yeah, I drink all of them."

"So that means you feel all the emotions and they can alternate your mood depending on the situation. I wouldn't call your emotions fake. You're not forcing yourself to drink one vial to feel that way. You drink all of them at once, making your emotions as real as anyone else's; constantly present."

"Really?" Ink exclaimed before he vomited a bunch of ink from his mouth. He stared blankly at the Doc before looking back at his drawing. Whew, the ink missed his paper entirely.

"I'll uh... call someone to come clean that up," the smile on the therapist's face faded. He glanced over at Ink's drawing. "You're very talented, Ink. Can I hang that on my wall?"

Ink nodded. Doc knelt down and picked up the drawing. The smile returned to his face. "Look at these black streaks across the trees that you made with your tears."

Ink was quite proud of how we wove his tears into his art. They created shadows across the forest and shade between the leaves. There were millions of shades of greens and browns in the pine forest that he drew. The painting would look lovely under the dim lights of the office.

"That's what we are going to do with everything you've bottled up," Doc explained. "We are going to take that pain and weave it into the beautiful story of your life. No story is complete without suffering. Here's your first lesson, Ink."

For the first time in his life, Ink had nothing to say. He wanted to listen to Doc talk. His fingers twitched as he waited for the therapist to continue.

"Suffering is necessary in our lives. Because without it, the happiest moments of our lives wouldn't be so sweet as they are," he explained. "Our lives will never be perfect. Just like paintings are never perfect. But our lives, like these paintings, aren't supposed to show us perfection. They reflect who we are, and the progress we made."

What an interesting take. It was as if Doc was talking like they had run out of time.

Wait... they had run out of time.

Was the session already over? Ink didn't feel like he spent an entire hour talking. Was that what therapy was? Just talking until stuff comes up?

Ink wasn't sure how to feel about the whole therapy thing. He enjoyed drawing and talking to the new Sans, but it was odd for him to feel things so raw when he recalled memories. He never felt such strong emotions about any memories before, why had it struck him now? What was all of that hidden pain Doc was talking about? Did he really have bottled up pain like all the rest of the Sanses?

He lost his trail of thought, only remembering what the therapist had said Ink grabbed a pen and started to write down what the therapist said on his scarf. "I bet all of that was important, I just don't understand it right now."

Doc chuckled softly. "You'll understand more as we work through your life together. I'll be in touch with you shortly, thank you for coming."

Ink finished writing down what the therapist had said. "Thanks for having me, Doc! I'll see you next time!"

The guardians gaze went from Doc's warm smile to the painting Ink drew within the hour. It wasn't perfect, no, but it reminded Ink about what the therapist had said before he exited the room.

It's not about about perfection... But about the progress I make.

#therapist!sans #doc sans #docs #DocSans #therapist sans #ink!sans #ink sans #therapy #i tried #fandom #this is not canon #ITS ELEVEN FRICKIN O'CLOCK AT NIGHT #Dont expect good writing from me at this hour :3

[fictionalstoryteller]

How the Main Characters of LMK Would Babysit Your Kid

Fandom: Lego Monkie Kid

Characters: MK, Mei, Sandy, Tang, & Pigsy

TW: none at all! Just wholesome fluff here ^^

Hello there new people! Yes yes, welcome to my first post on Tumblr. These are just some personal head cannons of mine, so if you have any critiques or questions please ask me about them in the comments. I also plan to do this for the side characters and antagonists of the show, so be on the lookout for that! Now let’s get this show on the road 🚗💨

MK:

With all due respect, why would you let him babysit your kid?! He’s the main protagonist! Something bad is bound to happen, no matter how good of a job he does

Ok but in all seriousness he’s probably going to take his job super seriously. So seriously, in fact, that he’ll swear off any crazy adventures for the day I doubt that’ll stop the antagonists from messing with him though

Knowing MK he’ll get slightly freaked out by the notion of letting you down

When you finally drop your kid off MK has already set aside some crayons and paper on the counter

They both do some doodling, order some noodles, and talk about how cool Monkey king is

If it’s a good day for it then MK might even take the kid to visit Monkey King! He’s got good connections man 

Mk gets distracted super easily so he definitely lost the kid at LEAST once

Overall I’d rate him a 6.8/10. He has an energetic and lovable personality, and he will definitely will give it his all. That being said he can’t focus to save his life. And he’s the main protagonist. So there’s a 50/50 chance that he’ll end up taking the kid on some wacky adventure of his on accident 

Mei:

Yes this is definitely a good idea. The hyper green skittle themed teen with parent issues will totally make a good babysitter! What? No of course I’m not being sarcastic! Whatever gave you that idea? 🤭

Mei probably volunteered for the job because she likes your kid, after all she definitely isn’t in need of any money 

You’ll have to drop your kid off at Pigsy’s Noodles since Mei wouldn’t want the kid to break anything at her parents place

She doesn’t really have a plan for the day, so they start off the babysitting session playing Monkey Mech, the arcade machine game in front of Pigsy’s noodles

Mei definitely offered to take the kid on a ride on her motorcycle. But don’t worry! I’m sure she had an extra helmet! Heh…

Ok let’s be honest, Mei gave your kid a crap ton of sugar. Like your kid is gonna need to brush their teeth at least three times before going to bed-

Luckily your kid ends up running all of the sugar out of their system before you pick them up thanks to Mei’s liveliness

No way your kids going to be bored. After all, Mei is super energetic and basically radiates cool older sister energy! But there are some negatives, especially because she does less then… responsible things at times. (Like letting a kid ride a motorcycle) she means well! She just doesn’t want to be as boring as her parents were. I’d give her a solid 6/10

Sandy:

Sandy couldn’t be happier that you chose HIM of all people to babysit your precious little angel. 

This overgrown Smurf already bought a ton of stuff for your kid to use while at his place, even though they’re only going to be there for a couple of hours

You’ll have to drop your kid off at Sandy’s houseboat for babysitting time

If your kid is allergic to cats then your out of luck, because he has 28 cats besides Mo. (and yes… this is canon…) BUT if your kid loves cats they’ll practically be in heaven. Especially since they’re all technically therapy cats, so they’re bound to be nice! Heh- Right?

This man has the best type of snacks for your kid, a mixture of salty and savory stuff! And if you want him to he can also pull out some tea for the kid. No one’s going home hungry today. No one.

If Sandy ever got distracted Mo would be there to make sure your kid wouldn’t do anything dangerous

Since Sandy’s house radiates calm energy there’s a good chance that they end up falling asleep on his couch at some point

Sandy is a literal icon. He has so many activities for them to do, like painting, yoga, and crafts. (And don’t pretend like he wouldn’t play all game they asked him to play) He also has delicious food that’s healthy, and he has cats! But for some kids that’s just not their cup of tea, hence why I’m not giving him a perfect score. After all, kids can be absolute menaces when cooped up in one place for a long period of time. Therefore I’m giving papa Smurf here an 9.5/10!

Tang:

Just to be clear Tang ain’t doing this for free. He’s either asking for some moola, sacred texts, or ramen. Tsk tsk, Tang is so greedy 😔 

Tang has so much experience dealing with MK, so he totally knows what type of stories your kid would love. Most of them are probably going to be about past legends and what-not

If he’s in a generous mood he might take your kid to see a museum! If your kid isn’t into that sort of stuff then he’ll consider some other fun activities. This could be exploring the town, visiting a library, things like that

Tang would totally take your kid out for some Pigsy’s Noodles when they got hungry, and he might even teach them a few tactics that’ll help them get some free food… (Pigsy would be LIVID)

If your kid is a bookworm Tang might share a few of his favorite books. And if he likes the kid enough he might even let them borrow the books until the next babysitting session

Tang is a simple man with simple needs, unlike most kids. He’s a bookworm who has a cool kid complex, clearly the most normal out of everyone in the gang. Because of this, your kid will be completely out of harms way! But that doesn’t change the fact that he might appear a bit boring… at least in the beginning of the babysitting session. But I have no doubt that as time goes on your kid will grow to appreciate his swindling ways and his logical thought processes! After all, MK practically idolizes him, and he’s practically just a kid in a teenagers body. That being said it’ll definitely cost you some pocket change to hire him. Anyways, Tang is getting a 7.5/10 from me!

Pigsy:

Pigsy probably has the most experience with kids out of anyone in the gang since he basically raised MK

I imagine Pigsy wouldn’t want to take a day off to babysit, and so he’d probably get MK to help work in the kitchen so he can focus on your kid without getting too distracted. And if MK is busy he’ll just ask someone else in the gang! Though, he probably won’t be happy about it-

After you drop your kid off at Pigsy’s restaurant he’ll have two options for them to choose from: Help out in the kitchen or hang out at a table

If your kid wants to help in the back he’ll teach them all the basics of noodle making! But if your kid is a slow learner he’ll probably just give ‘em some dough to play with while he works.

If your kid just wants to hang out at a table, Pigsy will bring them some of MK’s crayons and let them do some drawing. Don’t worry, he’ll occasionally peek out of the kitchen to check on them

Pigsy is kind but stern, so your kid should be prepared to get yelled at lectured at least once 😅 (I’m kidding ofc, I don’t think he’d really yell unless he was in a panic or REALLY upset. Something tells me he has a soft spot for kids)

Whoever is helping him work would also get to hang out with your kid during their breaks, so it’s like 2 babysitters for the cost of 1!

I love Pigsy, and I’m sure other people do as well! He has experience and is fairly responsible, he definitely wouldn’t let your kid get away with doing something bad. He can be tense at times, so if your kid is sensitive he might not be the best babysitter for them. But I’d like to point out HE DEFINITELY HAS A SOFT SPOT FOR KIDS which means he might be nicer than normal. Because of this I’m rating his babysitting services an 8/10!

#Lmk #lego monkie kid #kids #babysitting #reader insert #headcanon #lmk headcanon #mk lmk #tang lmk #pigsy lmk #mei lmk #sandy lmk

[guiltygearconfessions]

Faust is my favorite character of all time, I think about him every day and this whole essay isn't even the tip of the iceberg of how much he means to me.

[Warnings: ABSURDLY long text, mentions of suicide, mentions of antidepressants]

My goodness fucking gracious, I absolutely adore this guy. I don't care if he isn't real, he's so damn gorgeous and I would kiss him every day, every night and anytime.

I feel like those weeb guys with their anime girlfriends, but honestly? I don't care anymore. I want to hug him and cuddle with him, give him a box of the best donuts I can afford, listen to anything he has to say, tell him how important he's to me, take him to therapy and why not, marry him.

This weird and chaotic doctor saved my life. This is not a joke, this is not an hyperbole: I have this... executive dysfunction and DPDR disorder. I struggle to do what I want to and instead I just sit there, reading or doing small things because my mental health... isn't the best (I get to almost evey place really late because I can't even move)... but this man, yes, the bald guy from the met fighting game truly is helping me overcome this problem. I even reduced my antidepressant dose - which I've been on for almost two years.

I also have identity issues, a complicated relationship with my past self, an "I NEED to help people" mentality and tried to end my life many times (reminder: he almost committed suicide in Missing Link). Can you imagine how I reacted to the Another Story ending? I. Cried. Three. Times.

The moment I saw that official art from the Skullgirls gallery (indeed, I'm the same guy, hello) I said, internally: "Wow! I really like his design. Where is he from, though?" Then I forgot about it for a while until I... don't remember, I won't lie. However, I hyperfixated to a concerning extent with him and now... here I am, listening to his soundtracks, doodling him, collecting paper bags (I already did that before knowing about his existence, though), having almost 600 fanarts in my phone, planning to cosplay him in January for a convention, sewing a mini Faust plushie and... writing this.

So... we can summarize this by saying fifteen words: I love him so much, his story saved my life and he really deserves best.

Live your truth, people.

- A (signing this just because it's funny :])

-

#tw suicide #that's really lovely anon! #confessions #faust #guilty gear

[rocksandrobots]

PotP Ch 49 - Therapy, Tempers, and Triangles: Part 3

"Mr. Quirinson.... a word, if you please."

Varian stalled when he heard Granville's voice behind him. She didn't sound happy.

He closed the door to his lab and turned to greet her. "Yes, Professor?"

She frowned and held up a piece of paper covered in his handwriting, a bunch of math equations, and various symbols.

"While I'm impressed by your knowledge of ancient typography from antiquity, you can't use alchemy symbols in place of real words."

Varian sighed and tilted his head towards the ceiling. Granville ignored this as she read the paper once more.

"You have cutesy Sun and Moon doodles in place of gold and silver.... and... what is this?"

She pointed to a drawing of a black pointy spike.

"It's.... um... a rock..." He admitted.

"And what do rocks have to do with a time machine?"

Varian bit his lip, unwilling to answer.

Now it was Granville's turn to sigh in exasperation.

"Varian this is not presentable work. I can't turn this into the editor at the American Scientific Magazine, nor can it even move on to being peer reviewed yet...."

She stopped suddenly as a thought crossed her mind.

"And wasn't young Mr. Hamada supposed to be helping you write this essay? Are you not claiming equal ownership of this project?"

Varian really didn't want to answer that question.

"Listen... Hiro can have all the credit. He can write the essay and take all the glory, b-but I just don't have time to fool with this."

"That is not an acceptable response Mr. Quirison."

Varian paused in his escape, but refused to turn around and face the dean.

She didn't give him a choice as she walked around to meet him.

"Do you really think I'm just going to let you give up after hitting a single speed bump?"

"I'm not giving up on the portal." He insisted. "Far from it. I need to focus on getting it to work how I need it to, and I can't keep getting distracted by essays and interviews."

"Distractions?" Granville raised an eyebrow. "Is that how you see this?"

She pointed back at the paper.

"Varian, this is your future we're talking about here. Do you have any idea what this can do for you, for your career, or for the entire scientific community?"

Varian didn't respond, still refusing to look at her.

"Varian this could win you a Nobel Prize! Do you understand what that means? That's one of the highest honors that can be bestowed upon a scientist for his work. It could lead to government grants, tenure at a university of your choice, maybe even a team to study under you and assist in future projects... You'll have the ability to continue your work and research without worry of losing funds and could revolutionize the entire field of physics. Why it's more than any scientist could ever hope for-"

"But not me. I don't want it."

Granville looked aghast, but Varian continued on before she could say anything more.

"Look, I'm sure everything you're talking about is really, really nice, but it's not what I'm here for. You said, if I attended SFIT that I would be granted the means to build a portal home. I didn't agree to any of ... of this."

He gestured towards the essay.

"I don't mean to disappoint you, but I just do not care about any prizes or tenures."

Granville straightened a little and her jaw tightened. Varian could tell she was about to launch into another lecture. He didn't let her.

"Get Hiro to do it. He can have all of those great things and you can still have a prize student show off, just like you want."

He pushed past her, ignoring her offended expression, and hurried down the hall before she could get another word in edgewise.

                                                 ------------------------

Having made his escape from Granville, Varian was almost home free. All he needed to do was make a quick stop at the chim-lab to 'borrow' a spectrograph, and then he would be on his way to meet with Salma again.

However, he slowed as he heard a familiar voice as he passed by the communal labs.

"Varian did that?" Wasabi asked aghast.

"Ummm... yeah." Came Tadashi's hesitant reply.

Varian couldn't help but peek inside, being very careful not to be seen.

Tadashi was showing everyone his now bandaged wrist as the rest of their friends looked on with concern.

"I don't think he meant to do it." Tadashi continued. "He just... doesn't know his own strength."

Varian only felt shame at that. It'd have been much easier to stay angry at Tadashi had the other teen placed all the blame on him, but he didn't and Varian was quickly running out of self-justifications.

"But still..." Wasabi shook his head disapprovingly.

"What were you fighting over?" Fred asked.

"I kinda of told him about the studies we did on the amber." He sheepishly admitted.

Gogo rolled her eyes and face palmed.

"Really, Tadashi? What made you think that was a good idea?"

"I knew we shouldn't have taken it." Honey Lemon pouted, and Varian was hit with the sinking realization that they were all involved in taking the amber.

"We need to know what it is?" Tadashi insisted.

"Why?" Wasabi asked.

"Varian claims that it's the key to opening the portal. What if he's right? What do we do then?"

"I think what Wasabi means is... why do we need to know what it's made of?" Fred offered. "It's magic. Same as everything else in his world. What really matters is how do we stop him from leaving without us?"

Tadashi hung his head and pouted.

"I guess..." He finally admitted. "B-but it wouldn't hurt to know, surely. If they are connected to these rocks, maybe the answer to stopping them lies with with it?"

"Since when are we trying to stop these rocks?" Gogo asked. "I thought we were just trying to keep Varian safe?"

"We are... but... maybe helping him requires stopping the thing that caused it to all go wrong in the first place? After all that's the whole reason why that Rapunzel woman came here to begin with."

"So you think, that if we solve the problem with the rocks and save their home, then... th-then they won't come after Varian anymore." Honey Lemon mused.

"Exactly."

"Sounds reasonable." Wasabi shrugged.

Varian's heart pounded in his ears. They hadn't a clue what they were getting into and he didn't know how to stop them.

"Yeah, it does... but Varian isn't reasonable."

Everyone turned to look to Hiro. He had quietly sat in the back up till now.

Those words stung, and Varian's breath hitched.

"I... I don't know if.... If there's any point in trying to stop him from leaving."

.....

Honey Lemon was the first to break the shocked silence. "Y-you can mean that."

"We can't just let our bestest bud go back there alone!" Fred challenged.

"Hiro..." Tadashi sighed. "I know that you're upset bu-"

"No 'buts' Tadashi. You can't keep making excuses for him. He wants to go, and every time we try to help, he just lashes out at us. And if he wants to be that way... then fine! Let him go! It's his choice."

Varian didn't want to hear the rest.

He ran down the hall; tears blinding his eyes.

He thought he heard someone yell for him, or maybe it was only wishful thinking.

It didn't matter. He just needed to get out of here and be with someone who understood.

                                                ------------------------

Varian composed himself before making his way up to Salma's apartment.

So what if the guys were giving up trying to stop him? That was what he had wanted, wasn't it?

It'd be safer this way. He won't have to look out for them or risk them getting underfoot. They won't be in the path of the rocks or Frederic's wrath. And, most importantly, they would never need to know of his past.

Though, reason as he may, it still hurt.

He took one last shuddering breath before knocking on the door.

There was no answer.

He tried again.

And a third time.

Worried, he sent her a text, letting her know that he was there.

Finally, after about ten minutes he tried one last time.

"Salma? Are you there?..... It's me, Varian. Are you ready to go?"

he placed his ear to the door, listing for any response.

All he heard was a soft sobbing sound as if someone was crying.

He knocked louder.  

"Salma? Salma!? Are you alright?"

He tried to open the door in a panic. It was locked. He took to banging instead.

"Salma, are.. are you hurt?"

"Please... p-please go away." Came her muffled reply.

Those words were barely audible through the door, but they cut through Varian's heart like a knife.

He sunk to the floor, his legs suddenly no longer wanting to support himself.

"Salma p-please...." He whispered back. He tried to remain calm even as his last strand of hope began to slip through his fingers. "Please, tell me what's wrong.... Are... are you mad at me?"

He was only answered by more sobs.

Finally he got up and left without another word.

He made it all the way down the stairs and almost was to his car again when he stopped and gave a parting wistful glance back up at the window that led to Salma's apartment.

That's when he noticed the drain pipe.

                                                ------------------------

Salma laid on the sofa crying.

She felt awful about telling Varian to leave, but she couldn't face him right now.

She couldn't face anyone.

She just wanted to disappear.

She desperately wished for the world to stop turning, just a moment, so that she didn't have to engage in it and acknowledge the terrible truth.

"Please Allah… please…. Don't let it be real." She whispered to herself over and over again.

That's when she heard a noise coming from her window.

She finally looked up, confused, as the noise became only louder.

It sounded like a person grunting from exertion.

Then a hand latched onto the window sill.

Salma gasped as a second hand joined the first; her tears momentarily forgotten in her shock.

Then Varian's head popped up into view.

"H-hi…uh, S-salma!" He grinned with effort as he struggled to maintain his hold on the window.

Salma screamed and Varian almost let go in surprise. That hadn't been the reaction he was expecting.

Upon seeing him almost fall, Salma gathered her wits and rushed to help pull him inside.

It took several heart racing minutes to get him to safety, and both parties had to pause a moment to breathe.

"Boy… th-that to a lot of work…" Varian wheezed, before flashing her a smile.

Said smile fell away quickly when he noticed Salma's furious expression.

"What the hell were you thinking!?"

Varian's eyes went wide at the uncharacteristic swear. He then stumbled backwards as she continued to berate him.

"We're fifteen stories up! How… How did you even manage to climb that!? Why did you climb that!? Of all the stupid, irresponsible, low-down things to do! I asked you to leave!"

"B-but Sal-"

"No buts! You expressly ignored my wishes, and almost got yourself killed! And for what!? Aagrah… why must you men always be so, s-so, sooooooohhh!"

She stomped her foot as her rant gave way to an unintelligible scream.

Varian was completely at a loss. He had never seen her this angry before. He stood there dumbly as she fumed, and then suddenly she looked back up, touched her hair, and gasped in horror as if she just realized something.

She ran to her bed over in the opposite corner of the studio apartment. She pulled a blanket off it and threw it around her, covering her head and wrapping her shoulders with it.

Varian was only even more confused by this action.

However he didn't wish to upset her any further, so he turned his back to her as she readjusted the makeshift head covering. His eyes glanced about the room as he did so.

This was his first time seeing the inside of the apartment. It was a small space. Larger than Wasabi's dorm but not as big as the loft apartment that Gogo and Honey Lemon shared.

It featured an open kitchen that took up one wall, a small round table with two chairs, a low to the ground sofa with a short bookcase next to it separated the living space from the sleeping area, and he figured the door behind him led to a bathroom.

"H-how did your f-finals go?" He casually asked, trying to change the subject.

"Fine." She gave a curt reply, still not looking at him while she composed herself.

"Th-hat's good. My Intro to Economics was a killer." He joked.

He walked over to the table, and casually glanced at what he thought were study materials laying across it. He quickly realized that they were not.

It was an assortment of letters, photographs, and documents. There was a medal of some kind lying on top of the notebook and other odds and ends we're strewn about; a watch, some dice, and another copy of Salma's religious text, only this one more worn and small enough to be carried inside a pocket.

Then there were the pictures, some of Salma and others of what Varian assumed were her family. One young man in particular kept repeating in all of them. He looked to be only a few years older than himself.

Varian took all of this in at a glance. He had a vague idea of who the young man in photos might be. Then his eyes settled on one particular wrinkled and creased letter. Unlike the rest of the papers, this one was in Russian.

"Moya Devochka…." He read out loud.

Salma stiffened.

Varian paused.

He didn't need to read any further. This was clearly a personal letter sent by one of her family members. Perhaps her grandfather. Yet… he knew whatever was in it was connected to the young man in the photographs, and was the source of Salma's misery.

"This is about your brother… right?" He said simply, as he pieced together the clues.

"Please go." Salma answered.

"I… I just want to help."

She finally turned to look at him; her face dripping with incredulity.

"How? How can you help? How do you even begin to call this help!?"

"It's not good to be alone Salma!"

She paused, as if she had never considered that idea.

"I know what it's like to lose a family member." Varian continued. "And… sure, I get it, you hate the world right now. You have right to, b-but just sitting here crying alone. Th-that won't make things better."

Salma pursed her lips, and Varian knew his words had not reached her.

"What does it matter?"

"What do you mean, what does it matter?"

Salma shook her head as more tears started to fall.

"N-nothing is going to make this better…" she sobbed. "So what does it matter what I do?"

"That's… that's not true..."

"You can't bring him back."

"That doesn't mean things won't get better."

She had no reply. Her voice caught in her throat and she heaved her shoulders as her body wracked with sobs.

Varian ran to her, to hold her, but she backed away from him and held up her hand to stop him from nearing.

"No." She managed to whisper.

"Wh-what… what do you need me to do then?"

"L-leave."

"I'm…. I'm afraid to leave you alone though."

She looked at him, confused.

"Y-you need to talk to someone; be with someone." Varian pressed. "You don't want to talk to me… fine. Then call Dr. Brown or your aunt. You have people that care about you still, and they're worried about you."

Salma seemed to reflect on this, as she cast her eyes downwards and fiddled with a blanket in her hands.

"He… he went missing… two months ago…" she finally answered. "The military gave up looking for him. I only got the letter today."

"I'm sorry."

He moved again to hug her, but once more she pulled away from him.

"I told you, now please go."

Varian was taken aback by the forcefulness of her voice. He thought her opening up meant that she was ready to reconcile and receive help, but that was now clearly not the case.

"B-but I care-"

"Go!"

She marched to the door and held it open for him.

He stood there stunned for a moment, but she remained resolute.

"O-okay…." Only to pause at the doorway before leaving. "Will you at least call your aunt though?"

She nodded.

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Th-then will you call me later?"

She shook her head firmly and Varian frowned.

She stood up straight, looked him firmly in the eyes, and said, "No."

"No, I will not be calling you. No, you may not call me. And no, I never ever want to see you again."

And with that she slammed the door in his face.

He stood there, his heart shattered on the floor, as he heard Salma begin sobbing again from the other side of the door.

#varian #tangled #big hero six #of rocks and robots

[thekrows-nest]

Also!! I'm sorry if this has been asked before, buuuuuut!! How old was Krow when he started developing an interest in art? And what inspired him to pick up the hobby? Does he have a favourite/preferred medium? I want 2 live inside his brain kjsksghj

He got into it pretty young (like 4? 5?) because he needed to occupy his time with... something. He had seen other kids do it, and he enjoyed it a lot. He'd gather up whatever he could from home to draw on/with (cardboard, card stock, printer paper, abandoned pencils, pens, markers...) then go find some place and just doodle. This led to him getting interested in other mediums, although it wasn't so easy to do at home so he only got the chance to do them at school. Of all of the art mediums, he likes painting the most, and prefers to use oils over acrylics. But sometimes he does get bored of painting and will do something else for a while, usually that ends up being widdling some chunk of wood with whatever knife he has on hand. (He enjoys knives, a lot, has quite the collection of them; something he likes about knives is how versatile they are. People may think of them as a weapon, but Krow sees it as a tool. You can use it in cooking, art, survival if need be, it has a lot of uses.)

So it really was killing him when he fell into an artblock not long after... leaving from home. Art had always been his life and his passion, as well as the only therapy he could seek out for... things going on in his life. To be without it was torture.

Dove coming into his life and giving him that spark of inspiration is life saving to him.

#about krow #krow asked and answered #the krow's nest

[cowandcalf]

Notebook

for @space-ace-ravenclaw-demigod because you’re the absolut Queen of headcanons for the boys. This one is for you, babe.

“You’re too early!” Steve enters through the lanai rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Half past we agreed.” Danny parks his butt against the old chest of drawers next to the dining table, nipping at a steaming coffee.

Steve throws the towel over his shoulder and without even batting an eye he reaches for the coffee mug and gently removes it from Danny’s hand. “You made coffee? How long are you already here? You’re not an early bird. I am. Nervous?”

Danny elevates his eyebrows. “You have no manners. That’s my coffee - “ He touches his lips with the fingers Steve just brushed with his own ocean-wrinkled fingers a second ago.

“It’s my house, my mug, my coffee maker - “ Steve just watches Danny over the rim of the mug like observing a target through spyglasses about two miles away.

Still, Danny can’t tell if this is worth something to lose a night’s sleep over. “Sometimes you’re a child.”

Steve laughs and walks away with Danny’s coffee.

“And just for the record. I’m not nervous. It’s court. Nothing I haven’t seen before. It’s important today though. I want this asshole behind bars. We need to be on time.”

“I’m always on time. Gimme me five minutes. Three to shower, two to get dressed. Get the files, would you? On the desk by the window. I made some further notes just in case.”

Danny listens to Steve’s retreating steps, follows him in his mind to his bedroom, hears the opening of the closet doors, and then the low snick of the bathroom door closing. The running water makes him heave a sigh. He forces his mind off those images he has no right to think about. He turns to get the files and grabs them only to stare at a notebook Steve must have left by accident. It has a look that doesn’t fit Steve’s image of a neat freak and a we-do-it-the-Navy-way nerd. It’s well-used with dog ears and rings of coffee cups. It looks like it has been pushed one too many times in the back pocket of some pants without a care in the world how it would survive. It looks maltreated. It’s so unfamiliar to see this piece lying on the desk next to a stack of plain white paper, pens and other writing utensils neatly orderd, books, and other things a man needs to keep his affairs in order.

Danny knows it’s wrong but he has no control over his hand that touches the notebook. It’s the kind of cheap notebook one can buy in any shop. No title. He opens it. The first page is filled with doodles and just drawings, nothing makes sense. Some single words are written repeatedly like ‘sun’, or ‘wind’, or ‘brothers’. The next three pages are empty except the circles. All kinds of shaped circles. The most interesting page is full of hand-written text and the title says ‘what makes me happy’ with a skull sketch right next to it.

Danny knows he should close it. This is private, intimate to a level he has no right to pry about but the way the letters move together and form that sentence tugs at something inside his chest. Steve must go to therapy and this is one of his homework he has been ordered to do. He has never mentioned therapy sessions. Danny feels a sting of hurt because yeah, because he wishes Steve would trust him with this.

Steve’s handwriting is always full of self-esteem, accurate and solid. But this here . . . these screams of insecurity and feeling at a loss of words to express something he has been forced to do. Danny knows how Steve hates such mind-befuddling stuff. He loathes head shrinks and what comes with it. But he is willing to go with the load of homework. It must be serious then.

The water has stopped running.

Danny blinks and inhales deeply. He wants to look away but his eyes catch the words that are written mushed together on the page with too high pressure on the pen. ‘Beachbeachsunsandfoodlotsoffoodbeachsunsandfoodlotsofoodwhatthefuckdoiknowidontwantthis...’ and there in between was one word, crossed out a few times almost unreadable but Danny recognizes his name in the middle of this worm of linked up words. The understanding causes a sharp pain piercing through his chest and he jerks back when he hears Steve thundering down the stairs.

“Ready! Are you coming?” Steve shouts in his direction but Danny is already at the door, looking strictly ahead and pulling it open.

“Took you long enough,” Danny complains unnessecarily and keeps the car keys out of Steve’s reach. “I’m driving.” His heart still hiccups in his chest. Steve wears a fragrance like amber and spice and the ache in his chest ups.

“Don’t be a dick. You waited exactly five minutes.” Steve grumbles and makes a scene about his long legs that don’t fit in the too small foot space of the passenger seat.

“Don’t even try to be difficult. And don’t whine about getting car sick. Today, I’m driving. I’ll take you out to lunch after court. What say you?”

“Just you and me?” Steve sounds tense.

“Yeah, just us.” Danny hopes he says it casually enough and, of course, he catches the strain in Steve’s muscles. He doesn’t know what to do with this.

“You’re paying?” Steve twists in his seat.

“Was my plan, yeah. Why? Got a problem with being invited?” Danny just has decided that he has a new goal every day: to pull a smile from Steve. A real one. The rare one. He shifts gear. “You never have your wallet on you. Got used to it. So? Deal?”

“Yeah, deal but I’m buying. You’re driving. Partners share.” Steve doesn’t meet Danny’s eyes and kicks with his feet into the end of the foot space.

“Okay, fair enough and stop with the kicking already. You’re like a child.” Danny filters into the morning traffic. His heart doesn’t want to calm down. Steve just offered to pay for lunch. He gets lost in thoughts. That’s a fucking new one.

“You okay?” Steve asks after a while into the silence.

“Yeah, good. All good. Just getting ready for court. Mentally ready.” Danny tries to pull his inner eyes from the picture of Steve’s handwriting. The non-verbal message left an imprint on his heart.

Steve side-eyes him more than once. Danny’s stomach doesn’t unknot.

“What are you doing? Why are you looking at me like that, huh? I won’t jump from any fucking roof because you’re paying for lunch later. I don’t owe you a favor because of it.” Danny rants at Steve feeling already better.

“What? You think I’m that guy? Seriously, Danny? That’s mean, even for you.No, especially from you.” Steve moves his legs and crosses his arms over his chest but Danny sees the smile that tugs at his lips.

Danny shuts up but his fingers tingle with the urge to reach over and touch Steve. They’re going to have lunch today. He’d say it’s a start.

#h50 #mcdanno #ficlet #something pre-slash #boys in love #a gift for you babe #hope you're okay #lots of love #getting ready for the NaNo vibe

[may2022therevamp]

Opened up my old notepad to write out some of my own thoughts on paper- it hurts to see your writing in it. i saw the page where you took notes during your interview- and on the top of the page you doodled my name…. You doodled. My name. Feels Iike a million years ago that could have even be possible.

I also found pages filled- FILLED with notes of me talking myself through the anxiety I was dealing with when it felt like you were floating away slowly with someone else. I read a couple lines and shook my head to myself- I was hurting so much and the person I needed most was the one causing it. It’s hard to place blame some days- I want to think you’re a monster but I know you’re not. I know you just did whatcha wanted and I was the collateral damage. I know that is just the way it goes, that’s life- but I see those pages bud pages of me trying to hard to fix it all in my head. Me believing- like you told me- that it was really just me spinning out of control, and if I could just get it together, if I could just regulate my concerns and fears and jealousy that we could be us again- and it was me who was making a mess of it. And I know now, with ease and clarity- that was never the case. But it was somehow easier for me to scramble to fix the anxiety (which was absolutely warranted!!!) through changing my meds, going back to therapy, crying my heart out alone on the street at midnight on my walks from work- it was easier to put me through that than to just say you were falling out of love. Ironically, I still don’t believe that entirely. And I know how that sounds, but it’s true. Or maybe I can’t accept that it was really all the change in those few months that started that process- because that is where I have to accept what I did. What I didn’t do.

I guess all in all, it doesn’t matter- I know that I am healing because I didn’t read more than two lines of my old entries- no sense reliving it all. What’s done is done. Somehow writing out the thoughts here isn’t reliving it for me- it’s working through it. But seeing my own hand writing and being able to recall that pain so well is too much. Maybe it’s pity. I absolutely pity myself. My heart breaks for myself. In this weird, out of body way, I’m firsthand heartbroken- but I also pity myself so much from this like, removed place. I guess the point is- it felt good to not re-read it all. To just see it, acknowledge it, and not open up the wound unnecessarily. This aftermath is a weird balance of not letting reminiscing torture me, but knowing that healing and growth and ending up on the other side of this also only happen by confronting the stuff that’s hard to look at…

[gojology]

— gojo, megumi, yuuji | crushing on dense fem reader

the request :

pairing : gojo, megumi, and yuuji x dense fem! reader warnings : cursing, no proof reading wordcount : 1212 a/n : anon i cant believe u asked for hcs when im this bad at writing them ... girl r u good ?

GOJO SATORU  ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Now, Gojo is as straightforward as it gets with relationships. 

☆ When Gojo first realized he had a thing for you, he was all for it! I mean, what’s not to like about you? 

☆ He obviously forgot how dense you are. Any expression of love towards you was fruitless, it was like you didn’t give another thought. 

☆ He would wrap a hand around your waist, call you affectionate nicknames, show you off to a very disgusted  and uninterested Yuuji and Nobara. Rarely did Megumi join in, he was probably off doing his own thing.

☆ You just thought he was being friendly. 

☆ He finds your density kind of enduring, often finding himself studying you, just to make sure no one’s hurting you. 

☆ Gojo felt like some sort of guardian angel looking after you 24/7, but he doesn’t mind watching you.

☆ I feel like sometimes he just straight up says, “I like you.” you chalk it up as some sort of... twisted joke. And he’s getting frustrated at this point.

☆ When you’re off campus, off doing your own thing, he discusses with Shoko, asking her what his best chances are. 

☆ Gojo absolutely follows every advice Shoko gives him, even if it’s stupid, because honestly he hasn’t got any experience with a girl as dumb as you. He’s tried everything at this point!

☆ When you and Gojo are doing your own thing, alone, he leans in real close to you, and it takes everything in him to not kiss your lips. That’s what Shoko thinks might work, near physical contact was enough of a sign to say, “Hey! I like you.” 

☆ Shoko always says that you probably won’t realize any approach other then a direct one, and this was direct enough right?

☆ This piece of advice he particularly ignores, though. He doesn’t go all the way with the advice, he’s scared of ruining the friendship, no matter what Shoko says.

☆ He values you as a friend so deeply, you always seem to forget that he’s the most powerful, and he enjoys the normal relationship between the two of you.

☆ Gojo never, ever wants to lose that. He’d rather call you pumpkin then the rest of his life, while you obliviously stared back, then call you another friendship gone haywire. 

☆ So you two just look at each other, all silent. You’re obviously curious why he’s staring at you with a starving pair of eyes, but eventually he laughs it off and hands you his favorite candy that he always kept in his pocket. 

☆ He hands you your favorite flavor, because he always remembers it. 

☆ You walk away, chewing and rolling the candy around on your tongue, and he wishes he could taste how your mouth tastes afterward. 

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆ Poor Megumi over here, he’s basically a tsundere.

☆ Megumi hate’s confrontation, so he does EVERYTHING in his power so he doesn’t have to tell you directly.

☆ Nonetheless, he has a horribly bad crush on you. He also has trouble hiding it.

☆ Thing is, he doesn’t want to fuck up the friendship. After all, he was your “study partner”. 

☆ You’d often find yourself in his room, analyzing old Jujutsu writings for Gojo’s homework assignments. (Why the guy assigned homework, you have no idea.)

☆ Megumi was silent. He didn’t like speaking unless being spoken to. This changed with you. 

☆ While you’re writing or doodling in your journal, he sneaks glances at you. 

☆ Once in a while, he’ll realize you’re writing a word incorrectly.

☆ Instead of taking an eraser like any normal person does, Megumi insists that he would help you write out the words

☆ Holding your hand, he’d guide you, muttering the letters under his breath.

☆ He wishes he could hold your hand forever, it’s warm compared to his cold ones, and then his mind wanders.

☆ Wondering just how warm your cuddles get. 

☆ Blushing ferociously now, he looks down at the paper, and you look at him, confused as to why he stopped writing. 

☆ He’s incredibly stiff, he doesn’t wanna think about that while you’re right in front of him. You tap him a few times, and he jolts back to Earth. 

☆ You ask him what he was doing, but he doesn’t reply, instead stroking your hand’s skin and grumbling words you couldn’t understand. 

☆ You sit there, maybe he has anxiety, that’s why he’s stroking you like a therapy cat. 

☆ Megumi’s weighing out the positives and negatives of asking you out right this second, but his anxiety prevents him. He touches your skin subconsciously. 

☆ Negatives always seem to win though, he doesn’t wanna risk losing his friend. He turns back to look at your face once more, fluttering his long eyelashes, taking a deep breath in, and continuing the assignment. 

☆ “Next time” is all that echoes in the back of his mind.

☆ You just think it’s a bit weird, to be honest. Why does he look at you that way?

☆ You just think that he has his moments of too intensely thinking. 

ITADORI YUUJI ‧₊˚✩彡.

☆Like you, Yuuji’s also dense. ☆ Unlike you, he has the power and the courage of asking Gojo what these feelings were. ☆ “Yuuji-kun, have you ever felt love for someone special before?” ☆ “No, what’s that, Gojo-senpai?”  ☆ “That’s the feeling you get around (Y/N). You think she’s cute, I bet that.” ☆ That’s how the bastard found out he had a crush on you, through his equally as stupid teacher. ☆ This clearly spelled out disaster. ☆ Whenever you and Yuuji went out on missions, Yuuji would offer to cover for your role in the mission as well, claiming that you needed a break. ☆ “Why?” you’d ask ☆ “Because, I like you.” ☆ “Wow, Itadori-kun! You’re really nice!” you say, a smile on your lips, “Honestly though that’s a lot of work on your shoulders, I think I’ll-” ☆ He would stop you in his tracks, and kind of look at you. ☆ Yuuji thinks your work ethic is precious, and he deeply admires that. ☆ He also thinks your density is really cute, but he worries that he’s not masculine enough for you. ☆ This is why he tries to appear more, “macho” as he says it, around you ☆ But inside, he’s soft, and soft for you only. ☆ Despite his usual friendly and carefree personality, he would punt someone into the horizon if they looked at you different. He was overprotective that way. ☆ But you never truly got the hint, and he always was upset by this, in which Gojo would comfort him, and the cycle would restart. ☆ But here’s the problem: he doesn’t want to ruin the relationship. As much as he trusts Gojo, nothing was showing out of his obvious flirting, and eventually his confidence wore out. ☆ Sometimes he still tries talking to you in that flirty manner, but you just tilt your head and kinda go, “What?” ☆ Giving you a big, reassuring grin, he gives you a thumbs up. ☆ He sighs as he does so, telling you, “Nevermind.” and talks about something else. ☆ Deep down, he’s cursing himself out, he thinks it’s all his fault and not you just being stupid.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jjk headcanon #jjk headcanons #jjk hcs #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo satoru hcs #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #jjk gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro hcs #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x y/n #jujutsu kaisen megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi fushiguro #itadori yuuji hcs #itadori yuuji #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji x you

[xoxopeter]

My first mutual! Can i request Peter walking in on you playing guitar and singing and he didnt know you could sing???? And he’s floored???? Thanks!! 🥺 - justnotforbread🕸🍞

A/N: thank you for this request I loved every second of writing this! Hope you like it!

Beautiful Stranger

Y/N was someone who was naturally very artistic and creative. Classes would be spent by drawing little doodles in her notebook or on whatever piece of paper was on her desk at the time. Teachers would often discourage it, knowing it meant that she hadn’t been paying attention at the time. She took art as her elective several times over even though she had been encouraged by school counselors to branch out and try other things. She always customized whatever she could to her liking, especially the things she wore on her body. Her room had been a wall of posters and art she made and photos of things she liked and people she looked up to.

She had a notebook full of little thoughts she had and poems of all kinds. There were some poems about her parents and some about whatever boy she was crushing on at the time and some about how hard life was. It wasn’t until her later teen years that she started writing songs.

They were purely for her and used as her own creative outlet as well as a form of therapy. The navy blue notebook that she kept these songs in was buried in her backpack and hidden under the mattress, never wanting her parents to find it.

It wasn’t until she was nineteen and moved out that she picked up her first guitar at a small thrift store. It was older and had more than likely seen quite a few hands but she was drawn to it. Her little song writing hobby could become a song making hobby and she could do something with the dozens of songs she had written over the years.

Learning how to play had been harder than she thought it would be but she persisted, spending nights playing the same three chords over and over again until she had them down to a muscle memory. Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water had been the first song she learned and was able to play without messing up once and that fueled her to persist with the goal of being able to craft her own song.

Months later and she was sitting on her bed, making her own music and writing down the chords as she went so she wouldn’t forget. More songs came after that and she kept them in the same navy blue notebook she’d had for years that was specifically reserved for songs lyrics, and now the music to go along with those lyrics.

Singing was something she enjoyed as well. She knew she could hold a tune but she didn’t think she was the best singer or anything, and it didn’t matter. She sang for herself so to her it didn’t matter if she wasn’t amazing. It wasn’t like American Idol was in her future dreams. So she never sang in front of anyone except her childhood cat who happened to be in the room when she was singing.

There had been a couple years that she went into a lull and didn’t write as many songs as she once had, especially not after her guitar was stolen when her apartment was broken into while she was at school one day.

Then she met Peter Parker.

Peter with those eyes that reminded her of fall leaves and warm sweaters and baked goods and his hugs that made her feel like she was stepping out into the sunlight and the way he called her sweetheart in the middle of the night when he was getting into bed after patrol and she was half awake and welcoming him into their bed. Peter with his desperate need to do good and a hero complex that was so strong it put the weight of the world on his shoulders. Peter who kissed the tip of her nose when it was red from the northern cold and woke up early before her to make her coffee for her so that it would be ready when she woke up and always let her have the last Oreo.

Peter Parker had y/n writing songs again. They ranged from the way he made her wanna crack her chest open for him and give him her heart and how he was like a sun drop that slipped from the sun itself to light up her world and how his pleasurable touch made her wonder if that was what dying felt like. Some got specific like the one titled His Jacket about the night they went out and she didn’t bring a jacket but got cold and he gave her his green one. It had been far too big on her and the sleeves went past her hands but it was so warm and smelled like him. It made her feel oddly safe even though he was right next to her and she hadn’t wanted to take it off. When he wasn’t home she would sometimes wear it and just feel so warm and safe. Some weren’t as specific and more about their relationship in a broad sense, going on about how they would sometimes just look at one another and know what the other was feeling. Some of the songs were proper songs with three verses and three choruses and some were quite short with just a short verse and a chorus and a repeat of the chorus once more before ending.

It was late February when y/n got her tax refund and she eagerly made her way to the pawn shop down the street after work, buying a used acoustic before heading home to the empty apartment. Peter had plans to go on patrol right after his work day was done due to a serial rapist who had started upstate and in the last few days made his way down to the city. It had kept Peter up at night. She was worried about him but trusted Spider-Man to make sure Peter Parker came home to her every night.

As soon as she was home she was grabbing her notebook and fishing a new pick out of the pack she had just bought and made a workspace out of the living room floor, notebook out and open.

The feeling of the strings on her fingertips was so familiar but still a little out of place. It was like visiting somewhere that you once frequented but hadn’t been there in years so it felt different yet the same all at once.

Forming the song only took a couple hours or so before she was running through her first play through. It took a few more run-through's before she felt comfortable with the order of the chords.

After a short break to get a drink and make dinner, she was sitting back down and putting the acoustic back in her lap, pick between her fingers. She knew it was getting late but she felt like she was just getting started and she knew Peter wouldn’t be home for a while longer.

Peter landed gently on the fire escape, not wanting to wake y/n if she was already asleep. It wasn’t very late but she was known to have early nights and be out by ten so on nights that he didn’t know if she was asleep already he was extra quiet.

Slipping in through the unlocked bedroom window, he found their room empty but he had already heard her moving around in their living room when he started opening the window. Sliding past the curtain, he was in the bedroom and closed and locked the window behind him before taking off his mask.

He had had an early night, catching the upstate rapist much earlier in his shift. He had been trying to catch the guy for the last week and finally got him before he could ruin another woman's life. He felt relief in knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed that night wondering if the serial rapist was out there and hurting someone. Spider-Man had made New York a safer place for at least tonight and that would grant Peter a good night's sleep- if just for tonight.

As Peter was heading to leave the room, he heard the strum of a guitar and stopped, listening and wondering why he was hearing a guitar. He only counted one heartbeat so it wasn’t someone else playing. It had to be y/n.

The strum turned into a song and he took the remaining steps to be able to see out into the living room past the corner. Y/N was sitting on the floor with an acoustic guitar in her lap, looking down at it and fingers moving nimbly across the strings.

Leaning against the door frame, Peter watched and wondered why she had never told him she knew how to play. How had they been together for an entire year and he didn’t know this about her? The guitar had to be new because she didn’t have one before. He had personally moved most of her stuff when they were moving in.

Peter’s breath fell from his lungs when she started to sing.

“I grab your hand and then we run to the car, singin’ in the street and playing air guitar. Stuck between my teeth just like a candy bar and I wonder if it goes too far to say I’ve never recognized a purer face. You stopped me in my tracks and put me right in my place. Used to think that lovin’ meant a painful chase but you’re right here now and I think you’ll stay.” She sang.

He was just in awe; he was wonderstruck. Her voice was so soft and so beautiful and steady and he hated that he hadn’t been graced by it for the last year. Then there was the matter of the lyrical content that made his heart feel like it might turn into goo. It was absolutely her own original song that was about them because a couple months ago they had been at one of y/n’s friends’ parties and they were leaving when a song that they both loved came on. The music was so loud they could still hear it from outside and had jammed out to it together, air guitar having been part of that. It was one of his favorite moments in time with her and now one of his fondest memories.

He didn’t understand why she was working her current nine to five job when she had this talent.

He tried not to be a little hurt that he didn’t know anything about this but he also knew that he had hidden Spider-Man from her for the first six months. He couldn’t exactly judge her.

“Oh we’re dacin’ in my livin’ room and up come my fists and I say I’m only playing but the truth is this: I’ve never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss. And I’m terrified but the truth is this: I said beautiful stranger here you are in my arms and I know that beautiful strangers only come along to do me wrong. And I hope, beautiful stranger here you are in my arms and I think it’s finally, finally, finally, finally, finally safe for me to fall.”

Peter’s eyes pricked with tears as he leaned against the door frame, throat tight and wanting nothing more than to drop to his knees in front of her and kiss her so hard that it would be able to make her feel what he was feeling which was awe, astonishment, adoration to name a few. He was also incredibly overwhelmed by how beautiful she was; sitting there in that black NYU hoodie that he knew she’d gotten on her first day with a strand of her hair falling in her face from the bun that was piled on her head and her face clear of any makeup and singing about she felt safe enough to fall because she knew he would catch her. He would always catch her. At the end of the day his most important job was protecting her. Spider-Man meant nothing if he couldn’t keep y/n safe. The final strum made him wipe at his glassy eyes and he eyed the blue notebook that was open in front of her. He had seen it a couple times but assumed it was something to do with work like a planner or a calendar. It apparently harbored every feeling she had ever felt about him, about them.

Not wanting to startle her, he breathed her name.

Still, she jumped and her head whipped in his direction. “Jesus.” She gasped. “What the fuck are you doing home so early?”

“Finished early tonight. Thought I might come home and try to see you before you went to sleep.”

Y/N was silent for a moment before nodding. “How long have you been standing there?”

He smiled fondly. “Long enough to hear the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard in my life.”

Y/N groaned and buried her face behind her guitar in her lap.

Stalking forward, Peter sat across from her. “Why didn’t you tell me about…any of this?”

She looked up, ears red with embarrassment and lips pursed. “I’ve never shared it with anyone.” She shrugged. “Not even my parents. It’s something I do for me and when I met you…I was more inspired than I ever have been in my life. I may not be the best singer or songwriter but it’s so therapeutic.”

Cupping her face, he brushed the strand of hair away with his thumb. “I feel like I should have paid admission to see that that’s how beautiful your voice is. And that song? You wrote that?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Wrote it the morning after Anna’s party. You were still sleeping and I just…you make me feel so safe, Pete.”

“Well, I am Spider-Man.” he chuckled.

“That’s not it. I know you’re not gonna break my heart. I just know it. I don’t know how but I do. You have no idea how many songs I’ve written about us and-and about you. Last year this thing wasn’t even halfway filled and now it’s only got a few blank pages left.”

He closed the gap and kissed her hard in a mismatch of lips and the need to show her how much he loved her in a way he could. He didn’t know how to make a song but he wanted to so badly in that moment just so she could truly understand how he felt about her because what he just heard made him know truly how she felt about him.

“Play it again.” He breathed against her lips.

“I’ll play it as many times as you want.”

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker #andrewgarfield!spiderman #andrew!peter imagine #andrew garfield spiderman #andrew garfield #andrew!peter fanfiction #peter parker x y/n #tasm #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter parker #the amazing spider man #spider man #spider-man

[bloody-bee-tea]

Tattoo

Jiang Cheng decides to get his first tattoo the night he resolves to move out.

There has been a huge fight—yet again—where his father was more concerned with talking about Wei Wuxian, who wasn’t even part of this fight, and where his mother listed every single inadequacy Jiang Cheng apparently had.

And it’s enough.

He’s tired of feeling like shit in his own home and he’s tired of being made to feel like shit and he wants a change.

Which is going to start with him getting a tattoo.

His parents hate tattoos—one of the few things they can agree upon—and Jiang Cheng feels a little thrill going down his back just thinking about getting one.

But soon thinking about it turns into actively imagining, then into planning, and all of a sudden he finds himself in front of a tattoo studio.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t go in that first day; he simply can’t bring himself to. But then he spends another evening in the icy company of his parents, who are no longer speaking to him in the misguided attempt to make him apologize and Jiang Cheng decides that this is it.

He’ll get that tattoo and then he’ll get out of here.

Jiang Cheng goes back to the tattoo studio the next day, and this time he also enters. It’s not at all what he expected to look like, but he scolds himself for even thinking that. Clearly his parents and all their prejudices are way too prevalent in his life if he expected dirty corners and suspicious people everywhere.

What he sees are clean counters, tasteful pics of tattoos and not much else.

Until the most beautiful human being Jiang Cheng has ever seen steps out of a room.

“Hi, there,” the man says and Jiang Cheng does not swoon on the spot. “Do you have an appointment?”

Jiang Cheng slightly shakes his head to clear it and then he squares up.

“No, I don’t. I’d like to make one, though.”

“Alright. Sit for a moment,” the man says, pointing at a couch and then vanishing again.

Jiang Cheng does sit down, unbearably nervous now that he made that very first step and he wrings his hands in his lap. He’s so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even notice when the guy comes back.

“First time?” the guy asks as he puts a glass of water down in front of Jiang Cheng, who nods and gratefully takes the glass to take a sip.

“Yeah. That obvious?” he asks with a small smile and the guy shrugs.

“You get an eye for it, after a while. Nie Mingjue,” he then introduces himself and Jiang Cheng puts the glass back down so that he doesn’t notice how much his hands shake.

“Jiang Cheng.”

“Alright, Jiang Cheng, what do you want?” Nie Mingjue asks, a sketchbook making an appearance and Jiang Cheng swallows heavily.

“Just something small,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “Something I can hide away.”

At that Nie Mingjue pauses.

“I don’t make tattoos that have to be hidden away,” he cautiously says, already closing the sketchbook again.

“Yeah, well, I’m not asking for your opinion here,” Jiang Cheng snaps back before he clenches his jaw and scrubs a hand over his face. “I apologize,” he tacks on, much  more quietly, as he gets up. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue says, sighing himself. “That was unprofessional of me. I just think—this is art, you know. Something you chose for yourself, something you should be proud of. That’s just usually how this goes. But if it’s private, then that’s perfectly fine. I didn’t mean to be an ass.”

Jiang Cheng slowly sinks back down into the couch at those words and Nie Mingjue opens his sketchbook again.

“Alright,” he slowly says. “I want three little dog paw prints on my hip.”

He didn’t give this too much thought, honestly, but it feels right. It’s been years since he had to give his dogs away for Wei Wuxian’s sake and while he’s not mad at Wei Wuxian for that, he does resent his parents for it.

They were just puppies. There was a chance for Wei Wuxian to get acquainted with dogs that didn’t mean him harm. They could have given them to someone close by, so that Jiang Cheng could have gone there to see them every now and then.

But they didn’t do any of these things and just took the only friends away from Jiang Cheng he had at that time.

He is still resentful about that.

“Like this?” Nie Mingjue asks and shows him the sketch he quickly did.

It’s really just those three paw prints, nothing fancy about it, and Jiang Cheng thinks it’s perfect.

“Yes,” he breathes out and he can’t wait for them to be on his skin.

“This will be quick and I have time now, if you want,” Nie Mingjue offers him and that makes Jiang Cheng freeze.

He did not expect this to happen so soon, but after a moment he finds that it’s the only thing he wants.

“Yes,” he decisively says and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

Jiang Cheng did not need to know that he has dimples.

“Good,” he nods, before he falls into what Jiang Cheng suspects to be the customary first client talk.

Jiang Cheng does his best to listen and nod at the right moments, but he is distracted by Nie Mingjue and the way he talks and moves and sounds.

In the end Nie Mingjue still seems to be satisfied, because he leads Jiang Cheng towards one of the back rooms where he asks him to take his pants off.

Jiang Cheng freezes again because he did not quite make that connection yet, but of course he’d have to at least take of his pants for this. He sheds them quickly, not looking at Nie Mingjue and reminding himself that he must see this several times a day and that surely Jiang Cheng is nothing special.

He barely realizes that his hands are shaking.

“Are you okay?” Nie Mingjue lowly asks him, clearly picking up on Jiang Cheng’s nerves and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to answer him.

In the end, the truth comes spilling out.

“No,” he admits. “My parents are going to disown me for this, should they ever find out. I mean they are going to disown me either way once I move out, but—yeah,” he finishes awkwardly once he realizes that he’s rambling because Nie Mingjue absolutely did not sign up to hear about Jiang Cheng’s fucked up life.

“Are you safe at home?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng catches him quickly checking him over as if he’s looking for bruises.

“Physically yes,” Jiang Cheng gives back as his eyes start to burn. “Emotionally not so much,” he adds in a whisper, admitting to this for the first time out loud, and he sways into Nie Mingjue when he clasps his shoulder.

“But you’re taking steps,” he says and it’s not a question.

“I’m taking steps,” Jiang Cheng agrees and finally gets on the cot, ready to get this first rebellious step done.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly still worried, but also satisfied and when he starts the tattoo gun they don’t talk much more.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is struggling. He feels isolated and lonely and like his parents scathing silence is going to suffocate him one of these days, even after he moved out, and there’s only one thing Jiang Cheng can think of doing.

He finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s tattoo studio.

“Back so soon,” Nie Mingjue greets him with and Jiang Cheng realizes that it has only been three months since he got the paw prints.

It feels like so much longer, with everything that happened.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng awkwardly says and sinks down in the couch again. “I want something bigger.”

“Something you can’t hide,” Nie Mingjue replies, even as he sits down with his sketchbook. “How is that situation going?”

“I moved out. I’m not talking to my parents. But—” he trails off, unsure if he should really just unload all of his bullshit on this stranger.

“But there’s a lot of shit to unlearn and figure out for yourself, especially if this has been going on for a while,” Nie Mingjue says with an understanding nod and when Jiang Cheng stares at him, Nie Mingjue shrugs awkwardly.

“My brother has an interest in psychology and he loves using me as his sounding board. It only got worse when he took up some classes at university.”

“Ah, I see,” Jiang Cheng says and then sighs. “I’m deciding if it’s worth going to see someone,” he then admits lowly and cringes immediately afterwards. “I’m sorry, this is not what I’m here for and it’s absolutely not your job to listen to me.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised how many people see this as a therapy session,” Nie Mingjue gives back, and while Jiang Cheng would usually recoil at that, it doesn’t sound judging.

“But I’m here for this,” Jiang Cheng says and puts a slip of paper on the table.

He’s by no means an artist, but he has always enjoyed doodling and he’s perfectly capable of designing his own tattoo, especially when he gives it more than just a few days thought.

“That is bigger,” Nie Mingjue says with a raised eyebrow as he picks the paper up. “Much more difficult to hide.”

“No more hiding,” Jiang Cheng resolutely says. “I want it to curl around my arm, the head on the back of my hand.”

“Really big then. From shoulder to hand?”

“Yes.”

“Mh,” Nie Mingjue hums as he starts to sketch something.

When he turns the sketchbook to Jiang Cheng it’s still the snake and nothing fundamentally has changed, but it still looks better than the basic design Jiang Cheng came up with.

He itches with the need to get this on his arm.

“Yes,” he breathes out, reaching out to brush his hand over the sketch. “Please.”

“You’ll need an appointment for this one,” Nie Mingjue says as he gets up to schedule Jiang Cheng in.

It takes Nie Mingjue three sessions to get the snake done and Jiang Cheng loves it more than he thought possible.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng takes his time for the third tattoo. He takes his time to get used to living alone, takes his time to figure out if he really wants to go for a business degree and most importantly, he takes his time to get back together with his siblings.

They didn’t quite fall out when Jiang Cheng moved out, but he kept his distance for a while and now he doesn’t.

Now he welcomes them into his home and his new life and he sits Wei Wuxian down to have a real talk; one where he doesn’t allow Wei Wuxian to laugh everything away—either his own pain or Jiang Cheng’s—and afterwards they feel like family again.

Jiang Cheng briefly debates if he wants to do the same with his parents, but he finds that he couldn’t care less.

He can barely think about them without getting angry or nauseous or both and he figures it’s not worth it. Not now and maybe not ever.

So instead of wasting more thoughts on that Jiang Cheng finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s studio.

“It does get quite addicting, doesn’t it?” Nie Mingjue asks him with a smirk when Jiang Cheng steps inside and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Especially when you finally figure your life out for yourself,” he gives back and he has to admit that for the first time he’s not nervous as he sits down on the couch.

He knows what he wants and he knows what to expect.

It leaves him time to appreciate Nie Mingjue, though, and that makes Jiang Cheng’s stomach flutter.

There are tattoos on Nie Mingjue as well; making their way down his arms and one peeking out of the collar of his shirt. Jiang Cheng finds that he wants to see all of them.

“Okay, hit me,” Nie Mingjue says as he sits down as well and Jiang Cheng gives him his sketch.

Three lotus pods for him and his siblings. Jiang Cheng does only have good memories of them picking lotus seeds, and especially of Jiang Yanli’s soup.

“Next you’re going to learn how to tattoo yourself and then I’ll be out of a job,” Nie Mingjue grumbles as he takes the sketch and Jiang Cheng smiles with pride.

He did put an awful lot of work into this.

“I want it on my calf,” he tells Nie Mingjue who nods.

“Easy enough, but you need an appointment.”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng shrugs and his eyes drop to Nie Mingjue’s hands, which are still holding his sketch.

Honestly, Jiang Cheng did not expect his heart to beat faster at that, or the thought that Nie Mingjue will put his hands on Jiang Cheng’s skin soon enough but he’s not going to stop it either.

The pods don’t take much time at all once the appointment comes around, and soon enough Jiang Cheng is stepping out on the street with one tattoo more.

It feels like he’s reclaiming bits and pieces of himself with every tattoo that he gets and he honestly doesn’t want it to stop.

It’s only a little bit because he wants to continue seeing Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

“You’re going to be a regular soon,” Nie Mingjue says with a smile when Jiang Cheng steps into the by now so familiar studio yet again and he frowns, affronted.

“It’s my fourth time. How much more do I have to come by to be considered a regular?”

“Well, the true regulars drop by just to say hello, too,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly trying for nonchalant but Jiang Cheng sees the tension in his shoulders.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, but he still sits down on the couch. “But today I’m here for an appointment.”

“Do I even need to bring my sketchbook?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly remembering that there was nothing for him to do the last time Jiang Cheng came by but Jiang Cheng nods.

“I just have an idea. I need you to draw it.”

“Oh, alright,” Nie Mingjue says, and is quick to retrieve the book before he sits down. “What do you want?”

“I want water, or waves, under my collarbone,” Jiang Cheng says and points at the spot.

It hasn’t been that long since he started to swim again, but he already knows that it will be a big part of his life from now on.

Jiang Cheng used to love it, until his parents made it into a competition between him and Wei Wuxian and pressured him to do better and better. Jiang Cheng stopped after one too many silver medals and he never picked it up again, too afraid of falling back into old habits, of feeling like shit for doing something just for fun, no matter how much he loved it.

But he picked swimming up again, and it turns out he’s still good and he still loves it. Even more now that he can just do it for fun and challenge himself if he feels like it.

And he wants a tattoo for it as well. It’s another piece of himself he reclaimed after all.

“Like so?” Nie Mingjue asks, showing Jiang Cheng the rough sketch.

It’s a little bit too stylized for Jiang Cheng’s taste and he tells Nie Mingjue so, who turns the page and starts again.

When he shows Jiang Cheng the new sketch, it looks more realistic and it’s exactly what Jiang Cheng wants.

“Yes,” he breathes out and smiles.

That one feels just as right as his other tattoos had.

“Water, huh?” Nie Mingjue asks, quite awkwardly Jiang Cheng thinks but he smiles at Nie Mingjue.

“I recently re-found my love for swimming,” he tells him. “It helps that my parents are not yelling at me to win a gold medal.”

“Did you use to? Win gold medals?”

“No. My brother did though, which both my parents used to rub in, in very different way. I stopped because they made me dread going into the water but now that I’m just doing it for fun,” he awkwardly trails off. “I still love it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng is surprised when Nie Mingjue squeezes his shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you do look better. Definitely happier than the first time you came in.”

It makes Jiang Cheng flush, because he didn’t know that it had been that bad or that Nie Mingjue had been paying attention to him.

“I am. Better. Still on the way with a lot of things, but definitely better,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he tries very hard not to think about the fact that he still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his future or if he wants to get a dog, despite Wei Wuxian’s fear, or if he’ll ever be man enough to ask Nie Mingjue out on a date.

But slow steps. First he gets this tattoo and then he can think about what comes after.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng never gave much thought to his sexuality beyond the fact that it wouldn’t matter who he brings home; his parents were surely going to hate them, just because it was Jiang Cheng who introduced them.

He had looked at a few boys during school, but his mother had made it very clear that Jiang Cheng was going to get married to a business woman of her choosing, producing heirs for the company as soon as he could, and Jiang Cheng didn’t think much beyond that except ‘Fuck no’.

But now he has time to re-evaluate his sexuality and while he would probably label himself as bisexual at the moment he’s very definitely Nie Mingjue-sexual.

Not that he’s ever going to mention that to the man himself.

He’s standing in front of the tattoo studio yet again, even though he doesn’t have plans for a new tattoo yet. But Nie Mingjue had said regulars came by whenever, and Jiang Cheng wants to have that connection with Nie Mingjue.

He just can’t bring himself to make the first step.

So instead of going in, he walks up and down on the other side of the studio, berating himself that he just can’t bring himself to do it, but just as he is about to turn around and go home, Nie Mingjue steps out and walks straight up to him.

“Nervous?” Nie Mingjue asks with a teasing smile and Jiang Cheng deflates.

“I’m not quite sure how to make friends,” he admits and then wishes the ground would swallow him, because Nie Mingjue never said anything about being friends and it’s not quite what Jiang Cheng wants anyway.

“Usually you start talking to them,” Nie Mingjue says and steers Jiang Cheng towards a coffee shop.

“About what?” Jiang Cheng helplessly asks but he allows Nie Mingjue to lead the way.

“How was your day?” Nie Mingjue starts and Jiang Cheng finds that talking to Nie Mingjue over a cup of coffee is one of the easiest things he has done.

They start to do it weekly.

~*~*~

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue warmly greets him when Jiang Cheng steps into the studio again but he frowns when Jiang Cheng sits down on the couch. “You didn’t say anything about a new tattoo.”

It almost sounds accusing and Jiang Cheng helplessly shrugs.

“I woke up with the burning need to get one, so here I am.”

“Ah, a true addict,” Nie Mingjue says with a shake of his head, but he does get his sketchbook and sits down with him. “What’s it gonna be this time?”

Jiang Cheng takes a moment to gather his thoughts, letting his eyes wander over the tattoos on Nie Mingjue’s arms and he wonders if he can ever bring himself to ask to see them up close. To learn the story behind them.

“I want a lotus flower in the middle of my back,” Jiang Cheng finally says and it’s just because he still has his eyes on Nie Mingjue’s arms that he sees him jerk at his words.

“Between your shoulder blades?” Nie Mingjue asks to clarify and Jiang Cheng nods, finally looking up.

“Yes. And I want it in colour, too.”

It is the family crest and Jiang Cheng was torn about that for a long time, but it’s still his family and it’s still such a big part of himself that he needs to reclaim. Especially since his father does still want him as the head of the company and Jiang Cheng decided to do it.

“Oh, dear gods,” Nie Mingjue mumbles and Jiang Cheng frowns, torn out of his thoughts.

“Something wrong with that?” he wants to know but Nie Mingjue is quick to shake his head.

“No, not at all,” he says, busying himself with his pencil.

They fall into an uneasy silence and Jiang Cheng wonders what he did wrong to make Nie Mingjue respond like this, but before he can come up with a plausible explanation, Nie Mingjue gives him the sketchbook.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng breathes out. “It’s gorgeous.”

He didn’t dare imagine the design too much, because he wanted Nie Mingjue to create it, but Jiang Cheng did not imagine this.

“Yeah?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng frowns when he hears his voice crack.

“Yes! When can we do it?” he asks, suddenly eager to get it done as quickly as possible.

“I have time today, if you’re really sure,” Nie Mingjue gives back and Jiang Cheng practically beams at him, which clearly is answer enough.

“Alright, get ready then,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod of his head towards the same back room they always use and Jiang Cheng eagerly makes his way over there.

He’s just taking off his shirt when he hears Nie Mingjue come back in, mostly because he hears the muttered “Fuck”.

“Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng asks, turning around, his shirt still around his arms. “Is something wrong?”

“Wanyin, you can’t do that to me,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, his eyes trailing over first his tattoos that Nie Mingjue himself put there and then towards his shoulders and back.

“Do what?” Jiang Cheng asks, honestly confused, but there’s something in Nie Mingjue’s gaze that makes him go hot all over.

“You can’t let me mark you up all the time and then not go on a date with me,” Nie Mingjue says, finally meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes and it takes Jiang Cheng a moment to smile at him.

But once he starts, he can’t stop.

“Well, you’d have to ask for me to say yes,” he tells Nie Mingjue, finally taking his shirt off. “Why now, though?”

“Now,” Nie Mingjue huffs out and steps close, dropping a quick kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head, catching him completely off guard with that. “As if I didn’t want to ask you since that first time you came into my studio.”

Jiang Cheng can’t hide his blush, he’s sure of that, but when Nie Mingjue’s gaze goes soft, he finds that he doesn’t mind.

“Okay, but why now?” he asks again, though he couldn’t be happier despite the fact that Nie Mingjue still didn’t ask him out.

“You look happier, more grounded,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “And honestly, I’m only human. There’s only so much self-control I have, especially if you’ll allow me to mark up that masterpiece of a back.”

“I swim a lot,” Jiang Cheng says, smug as anything, because Nie Mingjue looks like he could bench press Jiang Cheng if he really wanted to and to hear that he likes how Jiang Cheng looks, that’s quite the ego boost.

“I see,” Nie Mingjue says, though he sounds strangled. “Go on a date with me, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue then says, and Jiang Cheng likes the fact that it’s not even really a question.

“Weekly dates are not enough for you?” he teases Nie Mingjue, absolutely delighted by how this is going and he enjoys seeing Nie Mingjue flounder for a bit.

“You owe me at least twelve kisses then,” Nie Mingjue finally says, sounding absolutely indignant and Jiang Cheng chuckles.

“You only want one kiss per date? That’s quite disappointing, really,” Jiang Cheng says with a smile and Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes.

“We’re working our way up, once it’s officially a date and not just coffee. But you can owe me all the kisses you want.”

“I think I like that,” Jiang Cheng happily says and leans in to get started on repaying his debt right that instant.

It leaves Jiang Cheng breathless when they part and he’s strangely relieved to see that Nie Mingjue is not doing that much better himself.

“Your hand will be steady enough for this, right?” Jiang Cheng can’t help but to ask, because he wants that tattoo now and he would be disappointed if Nie Mingjue said no.

“I’m a professional,” Nie Mingjue huffs out, even as he gently cups Jiang Cheng’s cheek in his hand. “I managed to keep a steady hand all the other times, too, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Jiang Cheng gives back and nuzzles into the hand.

They lose themselves a little bit in each other for a while, but eventually Nie Mingjue does get to prove that he has a steady hand, despite the circumstances.

Once the lotus flower on Jiang Cheng’s back is done, they go on their first official dinner date.

~*~*~

On their one year anniversary, Jiang Cheng gets Nie Mingjue to tattoo a green band around his right arm and Nie Mingjue manages to make it look like it’s shining from the inside.

Jiang Cheng catches Nie Mingjue wiping away a tear once he’s done and he would tease him for it, but since Jiang Cheng cried when Nie Mingjue revealed that the frog over his heart was for Jiang Cheng, he fears he has no leg to stand on.

Paw Prints Snake, expect imagine this spanning down the whole arm Lotus Pods Water, under Jiang Cheng's collarbone Lotus Flower, except it's in the middle of Jiang Cheng's back Green Band, there's no real pic for this, but imagine this ring as a tattoo around Jiang Cheng's forearm, because Mingjue's name is made up out of the characters for 'bright, shining' and 'jade ring' if google didn't lie to me

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #mingcheng #the untamed #mdzs #modern au #getting together #healing #tattoos #first kiss