#cell block candy
Text
Pop! Six! Squish! Uh-Uh! Cicero! Lipschitz!
He Had it Comin'!
These were fun to draw. I cannot tell you what possessed me to draw them doing the Cell Block Tango. I will not try to figure out what possessed me to draw them this way.
This is art.
#m&ms#chicago#cell block tango#musicals#crossover#sorrynotsorry#artist#cursed#he had it comin#chicago the musical#cell block candy#jellymellydraws#parody#satire#cursed art
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
the spins (explicit)
genre: smutttyyyyyy as hell (with like one angsty conversation about isolation as a trauma response, but said in much vaguer terms lol)
pairing: jungkook x reader
summary: you discover a new side to your former lab partner, frat wonder boy jeon jungkook, when you confess to him the one thing no man has ever been able to make you do.
word count: 10.3k
contains: explicit sexual content AKA porn!!!!! alcohol, minor frat house shenanigans, reader is a total bitch but in a highkey relatable way, jungkook is The Only Good Frat Boy, mentions of shitty hookups/sexual dissatisfaction/faked orgasms, an **absurdly** lengthy and gratuitous cunnilingus scene, a lil bit of teasing/begging, spitting, LOUD sex, reader’s first partnered orgasms, also JK has a tongue piercing 👀
A/N: so writing this nearly killed me,,, lmao. i have two inspiration sources that i must credit- one is jai’s @gimmethatagustd INCREDIBLE fic paint me naked, which gave me the final shove i needed to topple over into JK hard stan land (listen he’s 3 years younger than me, i had a complex about it, it’s fine). seriously go give it a read and give her some love, i fully credit her with moving college!JK into my brain where he now lives rent-free.
the other source of inspiration is this insaaaaane imagine audio (WARNING, extremely NSFW and will literally ruin your life!!!!!) that hooked me on the idea that JK would be competitive about eating pussy and….. yep, smack those two things together and ta-da, this porn was born. godspeed and thanks as always for reading 💜
this is now (finally) on AO3!
~*~
You really don’t know why you came to this party. It’s so crowded, bodies pressed together, people screaming to be heard over the noise, or just because they’re white girl wasted. The music is terrible, the floor weirdly sticky, the container of jungle juice in the kitchen extremely suspicious. You opted for tequila instead, the last of which you now drain from the bottom of your red solo cup. The whole place smells like cheap beer, vape smoke, and frat boy cologne.
Yet another Jack Harlow song comes on over the bass-boosted speakers and you roll your eyes. That’s it. Time to go home and actually finish the psych paper you’re putting off.
You shove your way into the kitchen, trying to be the only upstanding citizen in this godforsaken frat house and actually put your trash in a trash can. You spot one in the corner– nearly overflowing, but still good enough, except that a whole circle of Brads and Chads block your path. You do your best to squeeze past them, but because they don’t do anything except live at the gym and snort protein powder, they might as well be a brick wall.
“Excuse me,” you try. Nothing.
“I need to get through,” you say with a gentle push. It’s like talking to a brick wall, too.
“Alright, fuck it.” You roll your eyes and decide to just fucking go for it. You’ve had enough liquor that you won’t feel the pain until tomorrow anyway.
The circle breaks apart in confusion, not a brain cell in sight, as you slam your way through. They part so quickly that your plan works too well, and the excess momentum shoots you forward. You stumble, losing your footing, already cringing because you’re about to faceplant on the nasty floor of this nasty frat house kitchen.
“Hey, whoa!” A voice way too close to your ear for comfort shouts, but then an arm snakes around your waist and saves you from your doom, gripping you tightly. “Careful!”
You glance up, wondering if this guy is going to try to turn the moment into some attempt at flirtation, the world’s worst meet cute, but then you see big round eyes staring back at you with legitimate concern. Oh, fuck. You know those Disney princess eyes. Your stomach drops.
“Whaaaaaaaat!” Holding you in one arm, an unopened 18-rack of beer hoisted up on his shoulder with the other, grinning like a kid in a candy store, is none other than frat wonder boy Jeon Jungkook.
Ah, shit. You knew he was in a frat, of course. He doesn’t shut up about it. But you didn���t know it was this one– well, actually, you don’t even know which frat house you’re in right now. Alpha Beta Omega? They’re all the same to you. You don’t really understand why they have factions anyway instead of all just living together, but that would probably be too gay.
“I didn’t know you partied!” Jungkook is still smiling a smile that takes up his whole face, clearly unable to believe that you’re standing here in his disgusting frat house kitchen in your leather jacket and your combat boots.
You huff a laugh as he slowly unloops his arm from around you, assessing to see if you’re stable enough to stay upright. You shoot him a look as if to say I’m fine, dumbass. Uncoordinated, not intoxicated. There’s a difference.
“I do not party,” you correct him. “Never once in my life have I partied. I merely come to the parties, stand on the edges and observe, get my free alcohol, and then depart. Like I’m doing right now.” You aim your solo cup at the trash can and miss by about a foot.
“You– hang on,” he pauses, turning back to offload the fresh case of beer onto the kitchen counter. There’s a clamor of excitement from the Brads and Chads as they crowd around to slap him on the back, shouting things like “okay, JK!” and “let’s fucking gooooo!”
You have to get out of here, you think to yourself, and then you watch Jungkook bring his tattooed hand up to rip the cardboard front of the case off effortlessly, and that is lowkey kind of hot.
Quiet, you tell your tequila brain. No lusting after frat boys. Not even the one you sat next to for an entire semester in bio lab, the one who was actually way smarter than anticipated and didn’t just use you for an easy A, who genuinely seemed like he cared about the way you answered “How was your weekend?” every time he asked, and who didn’t even say one problematic thing the whole semester.
Just because he’s the exemplary form of his species doesn’t make him not what he is, you remind yourself. Even the best frat boy is still a frat boy.
Jungkook returns as the rest of the bros swarm the counter and proceed to decimate the case of beer. That must have been the reason they were waiting here, at their proverbial watering hole, because they circle up and dissolve back into the party, several of them clapping Jungkook on the back again in thanks as they leave.
You realize he doesn’t have to yell to be heard anymore as he says, “You’re leaving already?”
“Yes, Jungkook,” you sigh. “I have a paper to write.”
He scrunches up his face, knowing he can’t argue with academic excellence. “It’s still early. What if you just have one more drink, and then go? I haven’t even gotten to enjoy the party yet. The pledges severely underestimated how much alcohol it takes to run this place.”
You roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m so terribly sorry that your child servants who literally give you money in exchange for friendship got something wrong.”
The words feel biting as they leave your mouth, and you honestly expect him to protest, but he only shrugs. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re right. The whole thing is stupid.” For a moment you wonder how on earth he’s immune, what it is about him that allows him to live in the cradle of toxic masculinity and still be so regular, so good.
“Will you stay?” He asks again. You try to purse your lips to hide your smile, but it doesn’t work, and then he’s smiling too.
“Fine.”
The kid literally fist pumps, and your laugh bubbles up before you can stop it. He gestures broadly to the kitchen counters which are a veritable nightmare of liquor bottles and beer cans. “What’ll it be? Don’t say the jungle juice,” he warns with a laugh.
You look at him like he’s gone entirely insane. “I would never say the jungle juice. Tequila, please.”
Jungkook moves fluidly, as if he’s imitating those ridiculous Las Vegas bartenders who do tricks while they pour your obscenely overpriced drink. He shakes a solo cup off the stack and throws it up, spinning on his heels and catching it in his other hand, and you’re laughing again because he’s such a fucking dork.
He crosses to open the freezer and scoops up some ice in your cup, then pours a healthy amount of tequila in. “And mixer?” He looks back at you over his shoulder.
You pause. “Uh, just ice is good.”
He puts the bottle down and turns to squint at you in disbelief. “You drink straight tequila and you’re telling me you don’t party?”
You falter, a little flustered. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m drinking it for the taste, you know?”
“Can I show you what you’re missing out on?” He asks, and you don’t know why the question makes you swallow hard. “Seriously.” He picks the bottle of tequila back up, eyeing the brand with distaste. “This stuff is… not great.”
Your instinct is to joke about him slipping something in your drink, but you bite the words back– because first of all, not funny. But you also genuinely don’t think he would ever do something like that, and you don’t want to give off the impression that you do.
“Alright,” you say instead, lifting your hands in surrender.
He opens the fridge door and crouches down, digging around through what you can only imagine is a Costco-sized amount of egg cartons and packages of chicken breasts. Finding what he’s looking for, he pulls away with a carton that’s been Sharpie’d to death, “JK ONLY DO NOT DRINK” on all sides. It’s really every bro for himself out here, you think.
“Grapefruit okay?” Jungkook double-checks, and you give a shrug and a nod. He pours a little, inspects the cup, then adds a splash more. “It’s not too sweet.”
He passes the cup off to you and returns his juice to the fridge, shuts the door, then seems to realize he forgot to make himself a drink and repeats the entire process again, spinning in a full circle which has you hiding your giggle in the rim of your cup. Once he’s made himself a matching drink to yours, he leans against the counter and takes a sip, surveying you.
You mirror him– the drink is admittedly a lot better than straight bottom-shelf, and you like how the sour taste lingers on the back of your tongue.
“Thank you,” you remember to say after a few sips, and he waves it off as if to say it’s no big deal.
“So, why are you here? Observing us in our natural habitat?” He puts on a voice for the last part, in a clear imitation of you, and you smirk. It does sound like something you would say.
“I’m an agent of chaos,” you say and he gives you a look like he’s waiting for the real answer. You choose that moment to take a long swallow of your drink, buying time. He continues to wait patiently, so you finally just shrug and make a face. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to do my paper. I saw a thing for it on insta. And I was tired of rotting away in my dorm room.”
He nods thoughtfully. “I tried inviting you to stuff when we were lab partners.” You wonder if the tequila is making you imagine that he sounds a little hurt. “You never seemed into it.”
At that, you laugh, because he’s being kind. Jungkook did invite you regularly to whatever mixers or ragers his frat was planning, and every time you would tell him no, directly to his face, like the bitch that you are. You eventually started trying to come up with as many creative ways to phrase it as you could: no, nope, never, not in a million years, when hell freezes over. He took them all like a champ, and that was one of the first things you remember liking about him. A frat boy who can respect when someone says no and not try to push it– now that is a rarity.
You want to apologize, but you really have no explanation for what makes tonight any different, at least not one you can say eloquently. How do you tell him you’re fucking sick of staring at the walls, feeling like “the best years of your life” are passing you by and leaving you with nothing to show for it? That you’ve painted sarcasm and an “I don’t give a fuck” attitude over your life for so long that now it feels like you’re backed into a corner where you can’t give a shit about anybody because there’s nobody left to give a shit about? So you were neck deep in insta stories on a Friday night like a fucking loser, and you saw a stupid post about a stupid frat party by some girl you swore was going to be your bestie the first week of freshman year who you promptly never spoke to again, and something in you snapped and said, “fuck it”?
Oof, tequila coming in strong, you think to yourself. You decide to spare Jungkook the emotional word vomit.
He keeps going when you don’t respond. “I just figured you had better things to do. Like ride motorcycles, or be in a mosh pit.”
You roll your eyes. “Motorcycles are giant metal death traps. Hard pass. And I don’t like getting punched in the face by nazis, so I don’t mosh.” You take a sip of your drink and size him up. “You’re one to talk, little alt boy.”
He’s playing with his lip ring when you say it, and the blush that creeps up his neck is honestly cute. Thoroughly unfazed by your words, he rolls up the right sleeve of his eyesore of a button down until his arm is fully exposed. “Check it out! Finally filled in the shoulder piece.”
You step closer to admire the fresh ink. Jungkook’s sleeve is, admittedly, really fucking cool. You still remember the first time you saw it in bio lab. It was the first day where the temperature crept up to an actual tolerable degree after what felt like a winter that would never end. You’d only known him in hoodies up to that point, so when he rolled into class that day in a baggy t-shirt and you saw the hint of lettering and shading peeking out from under his sleeve, your jaw nearly hit the floor.
“It’s rude to stare,” he’d said with a soft laugh and a cheeky-ass wink.
You wonder now if maybe you stepped too close, because you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. He holds his arm up for you, rotating it to show off the whole thing. Throughout the rest of the semester, you’d watched as he slowly started to fill in the blank spaces, but now it’s even more cohesive; he’s nearly finished it in the time since you last got a good look.
“Just need something on my wrist. And I might do the back of my hand. I haven’t decided.” He squeezes his hand into a fist and flexes with a put-on grunt, and you laugh even as the swell of his bicep makes your heart jump in your chest.
Emboldened by how close you are to him, and also the tequila, you trace your finger along the words that wrap across his forearm– rather be dead than cool. “That one’s my favorite,” you say softly.
When you glance up, he’s already looking at you, and now your heart’s in your throat. “I swear this thing’s the only reason you like me,” he says, the non-pierced corner of his mouth crooking up in a barely-there smile.
You open your mouth to protest when the kitchen is suddenly alive with noise as a mass of bodies crash through the doorway. A girl in a minidress that has ridden dangerously far up her thighs is nearly carried in by two of her friends, with several more trailing in right at their heels, and her name must be Hannah because they all say it about a thousand times in six seconds. A couple of dudebros shuffle in behind them, shouting for everyone to step back and give her space.
Nowhere else to go, you’re forced that much closer to Jungkook as far too many people try to squeeze into the tiny kitchen. You’ve basically got him pinned against the counter, and you look away, then look back, extremely uncomfortable.
“Sorry,” you mouth, and he shakes his head like it’s not a big deal.
He does smell really good, you realize now that he’s this close. Not like he took a bath in Axe body spray or Drakkar Noir, as most of his frat bros do, just… warm and clean, with a hint of the good kind of boy musk, salt and skin. It’s a welcome distraction from the unbridled chaos of Hannah and her entourage.
“She’s gonna be sick,” someone warns, and you wince in preparation.
“Hannah, aim for the sink!” Another girl coaxes. You turn over your shoulder and watch as Hannah takes a few steps forward, legs quivering like a baby deer, then does a last-second pivot and vomits directly into the jungle juice.
“Oh, party foul!” One of the bros yells.
You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head, and then Jungkook’s breath is ghosting over your neck and you can’t think about anything else. “Do you want to go to my room?” His voice is low, his lips inches from your ear.
You look up at him over the rim of your cup. “Yes, please.”
It’s only once you start walking that your mind is able to process what’s happening, and the panic sets in. Jeon Jungkook is guiding you through his packed frat house, his hand on the small of your back. Of course the crowds part for you like the fucking red sea, no throwing elbows required, because everybody loves him.
His bros greet him as he passes, “‘sup JK!”, and you try to avoid eye contact. You wonder how regularly they see this, him leading some wide-eyed girl up to his room to do what frat boys do best. Your stomach twists as you wonder what his expectations are, and what the fuck it is that you’ve just agreed to by saying yes.
You climb the stairs, his hand still pressed to your back, and he leads you to the first room on the left when you reach the top. When he opens the door and motions for you to step through, you’re surprised.
For one, it doesn’t reek of weed. It just smells like he does, but stronger, with a hint of fresh laundry. His bed isn’t made, but there are also no questionable stains on the black sheets, and he has four pillows and a bed frame, not just a mattress and box spring on the ground with one sad rectangle. There are some cups on the nightstand, but no ash tray overflowing with burnt out ends of blunts, no empty beer cans, and you can actually see the floor.
Not bad, you think to yourself, and then the anxiety presses in again as he shuts the door behind you. Nope. You are absolutely not doing this.
“Sorry about that,” he says with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “These things get really crazy around finals season. I guess people need an escape in the form of mild alcohol poisoning.”
You cross your arms, unable to continue the polite conversation. “Look, I don’t know what you think is going to happen in here, but it’s not going to happen, okay?”
He steps back, his brow instantly furrowing. “Wait, what? Are you mad at me right now? I just figured you’d want to get out of the kitchen, since a girl was actively puking.”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” you say, not buying it.
“I-I’m not.” Jungkook seems genuinely flustered, enough that you realize he’s probably not acting. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he starts, and then he sighs, like he’s correcting himself. “But, I guess my intentions really don’t matter, because it seems like I did. So I’m sorry.”
You squint at him, wondering who the fuck taught this boy how to apologize so damn well. This is the first time you’ve ever heard a frat boy say “sorry” without it being immediately followed by “but” and then something so offensive that it negates the entire thing.
He waits for you to respond, then gestures to the door. “If you want to go, you can go. I just wanted to talk to you. I haven’t seen you at all since last semester, and I’m really glad you came out.”
The thought of going back downstairs is slightly more anxiety-inducing than staying in this room. At least here it’s quiet, and it smells nice, and he apparently is not actually trying to get into your pants. It really does seem like you read him wrong, you admit to yourself, and then you unceremoniously plop down on his carpet.
Jungkook doesn’t even try to hide the big smile on his face as he joins you on the floor, and you both lean back against the foot of his bed. He slips his feet out of his slides and you lean forward to pull your boots off.
“Like I said, I’ve been rotting away in my dorm room,” you remind him with a dry laugh.
“You should’ve texted me. I would’ve come rot with you.”
His words make you smile a little, but you’re still suspicious. “Uh-huh,” you intone as he takes another sip of his drink. “And what would we have done, Jungkook?” The question nearly makes you cringe; it’s like reading a bad sext out loud. You don’t know why you keep pushing him on this.
Maybe, a tiny part of your tequila brain whispers to you, you’re goading him so hard into saying that he wants to hook up because for a split second back there in the kitchen, you realized that’s what you want. But you’re a hyper-independent bitch who can’t ever admit to needing anything from anybody, so you need him to say it first.
You grit your teeth and give your head a nearly imperceptible shake, trying to shut that brain cell up.
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug, like he really doesn’t. “Play video games?” He gestures to a Nintendo 64 in the corner of his room, hooked up to a large TV that’s mounted on the wall.
It’s certainly not the answer you expected, but you don’t hate it. You raise an eyebrow as if to challenge him. “Well, I will kick your ass in Mario Kart.”
He sucks gently on his lip ring as he looks you over, and there’s a glint in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You’ve clearly tapped into something. “Oh, I highly doubt that.”
“Then prove it.”
Dropping out of shit-talk mode for a second, Jungkook gives a laugh that almost sounds embarrassed. “I should warn you, I get pretty competitive.”
You refuse to back down. “Better work on your gracious losing face, then.”
In acceptance of your challenge, you watch as he sorts through the bin of cartridges next to the console until he finds the one he’s looking for. He brings it up to his mouth and blows on it, some strange gamer ritual you’ve seen before but have never understood, and a shiver runs through you.
“Here,” he says, tossing you a dark blue controller, letting the cord unravel and plugging it into the port. “You can even use my favorite.” You take it in your hands and smile when you see the yellow Pokémon logo stamped across the center.
“You’re going to regret that when I beat you with it,” you retort, shrugging out of your jacket for optimum mobility. He’s grinning as he settles back next to you and the menu music starts up.
It turns out you’re pretty evenly matched in the Mario Kart skills department. You sail past him on the first course, easily finishing in first, but get entirely wrecked by a blue shell in course two and he’s able to clinch it no problem.
You would’ve expected more shit-talking based on his warning, but instead he’s just so focused, eyes wide, mouth wiggling his lip ring back and forth. It’s a little endearing. A lot endearing, really. You keep sneaking glances over at him as you start up the third and final course, wondering why he has to be so goddamn cute, why you’re incapable of finding a single flaw in him no matter how hard you try.
Forcing yourself to focus, you return your attention back to the screen, only to see that he has flown right by you and is far ahead in the lead. Oh, this simply will not do, you think to yourself, and then an item box hands you a perfectly-timed golden mushroom, and you see your path to victory.
You drift around the sharp corners, giving yourself a speed boost each time, and it’s just enough. “Get fucked,” you say with a giggle as Princess Peach cruises her way past Bowser into first place. You use the last few seconds of your mushroom power to put a solid amount of distance between your characters. There’s less than half a lap left, and absolutely nothing he can do to deny you of your win.
Or so you think, until he reaches over and drags his hand across your controller, forcing your joystick in the opposite direction and causing Peach to start driving in circles on the screen.
“What the fuck!” You scream, trying to smack his hand away, but he closes one of your hands in his and forces that down on the joystick, making your car go fully backwards. “You fucking cheater!”
“You’re the cheater,” he grunts, which doesn’t even make any sense, but pisses you off enough to reach for his controller to mimic his strategy. However, you fail to account for his evolutionary advantage of having longer arms than you; he’s easily able to scoot away while keeping his hand pressed down on your own. You see in the game that he’s inches away from overtaking you now, the fingers of his other hand stretching to work joystick and button at once.
“No!” You cry out in frustration, desperately trying to wriggle your hand free. You can’t just sit here and watch him steal this out from under you, so you dive hard to one side and yank the controller away at the same time.
It’s only a little too late that you realize you have once again made an uncoordinated lunge and ended up with far too much leftover momentum. He does not relent, and you underestimated the severity of his grip on your hand because when you fall over he comes with you, both of you toppling onto the carpet as the controller flies out of your grasp.
You end up flat on your back, and his reflexes are only barely fast enough to respond, his hands bracing the floor on either side of your head so he can avoid landing on top of you.
But that’s even worse, because now Jungkook is hovering over you, and you’re both breathing heavy, and his hair is falling in his eyes, and you don’t even know how but his thigh has managed to end up pressed between your legs.
For a moment, you don’t move or say anything, and neither does he. You just stay like that, staring at each other. Your eyes drop to his mouth, and then he cracks a smug grin.
“I told you I don’t like to lose.”
Your stomach flips as your panic rears back in full force, and you meet his gaze again. “Am I still supposed to believe you didn’t bring me up here to hook up?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper.
The smile drops off his face as his eyes search yours. “What do you want?” He asks, and you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “Because you’re the one who keeps talking about it.”
You falter, unable to come up with any witty retort because you know he’s right. Jungkook moves away from you and you sit up with a sigh. He scoots back a few more inches, giving you plenty of space, and reaches for the remote to mute the TV.
“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, your voice still soft. You can’t look at him, so you stare at the carpet instead. “That’s just alcohol and adolescent sex drive talking. It’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?” He doesn’t sound mad, but confused, like he wants to understand your thought process. Good fucking luck, you think to yourself.
You give him a look. “Because I’m not an idiot. Hooking up with a frat boy in his frat house is never a good idea.”
The way his face falls makes you feel like the biggest bitch on planet earth, and you desperately wish you could shove the words back in your mouth, that you were capable of shutting up for once in your goddamn life.
“Is that really how you see me?”
Of course it’s not. You know it’s not, and you hope he knows it too, despite your inability to ever actually say what you fucking mean. But you can’t stop yourself. The defense mechanism is fully engaged now.
“Jungkook, you are literally a frat boy. We are literally in a frat house. This is not a perception character judgment thing. It’s an objective facts of reality thing.”
He fixes you in his gaze, saying nothing, then sighs. “Why do you do that?”
Your heart sinks. “Do what?”
He shakes his head, worrying at his lip ring again, clearly a nervous habit. “I don’t know, it’s like… Sometimes I think you like me, but then you always throw a wall up at the last second. I just wish I knew why.”
That makes two of us, you think bitterly, but your heart is simultaneously cracking apart at how vulnerable he’s being with no hesitation. You’re almost jealous that he can just move through life like this, open and honest, so unafraid.
“I do like you,” you admit, and you open your mouth to add the qualifier, to put the wall up, but he speaks first.
“I like you, too. I’ve liked you for a long time.” This kid is going to be the death of you. “I’m not just looking to score, or whatever."
You pull your knees to your chest, crossing your arms over them, trying to shrink until you no longer exist. You start to shake your head. “Jungkook, I don’t–”
“See,” he cuts you off, “you’re doing it right now.” You groan and bury your face in your arms. “What is that? We like each other, why can’t that be enough?”
The question hangs heavy, because you know there’s no good answer.
Finally, you look up at him and sigh. “Because,” you start decisively. “You’re… you. And I’m me.” You gesture between the two of you. “We’re from different worlds.”
His face scrunches up a little, and it’s his turn to shake his head slowly. “I really don’t think we are. I think you’re just telling yourself that.” You can see he’s getting frustrated and you don’t fucking blame him. “And I don’t get how you can complain about sitting by yourself in your dorm room, but then keep blocking everyone out so that you’re always alone.”
“I like being alone!” The lie comes out reflexively before you can even think to stop it. You’ve said it so many times at this point that it almost feels true. “Alone is best.” You pause, and for a second you really wonder if you’re going to cry right now, on the floor of Jeon Jungkook’s bedroom, in his stupid frat house. “You can’t get hurt, or disappointed, or left behind if you’re alone,” you conclude. There it is. The truth, kind of.
“I wouldn’t do any of those things to you,” he says softly.
You just stare at him for a moment. The promise is too good to be true. It always is. “You can’t know that.”
He pauses, then nods once, staring back at you. “You’re right. But I don’t want to do those things. And I would try really hard not to. I just want to make you feel good. Whatever that looks like.”
You can’t help where your stupid tequila brain immediately takes the idea, and you let out a dry laugh. “Well, if that’s what you’re after, there’s really no chance.”
His brows pinch together, clearly not understanding. “What does that mean?”
“Many have tried, none have succeeded,” you say with a roll of your eyes, stretching your legs back out. “I am a puzzle that no man can solve.”
The realization slowly dawns on him, and his eyes widen. “Wait, are you saying you’ve never had a–”
You wave a hand in the air as if to shush him, and you cut him off. “Stop. Don’t be dramatic. I’ve had plenty of orgasms, courtesy of my vibrator and my showerhead.” Your face is a little hot from talking about this in front of him. “Just… only alone. The running theme here, apparently.”
He tilts his head, processing this new information. “So do you fake it?” You tell yourself you’re just imagining that he sounds a little upset.
You grimace. “With my high school boyfriend, yeah. He was my first everything, and we were so young. I was too embarrassed to say it, so I just let him believe he had a magical dick that brought me to orgasm at the exact same time as him every time.”
Jungkook huffs a laugh of disbelief.
“And after that,” you continue, looking down in embarrassment, “I don’t know, it’s pretty much just been hookups, and most usually don’t bother to ask. Some have tried for a while, and then given up…” The memories make you cringe. “It’s just uncomfortable. Hence the alone thing.” You give a half shrug. “It’s okay. My vibrator is nice.”
He says nothing, and you mentally kick yourself for oversharing. This is why the wall goes up, you think, but when you look at him, he’s already looking at you, and not in the way you expected.
In fact, you’re surprised to see that glint in his eyes again. He licks his lips, and you realize your pulse is racing.
“The way I see it,” he begins slowly, his voice low and even, “we have two options.” You raise an eyebrow, your interest piqued, and he continues. “Option one. You let me know, for real, that you’re not interested. You don’t have to tell me why, but you do have to mean it. And I’ll leave you alone, and you can go home and write your paper.”
Your mouth goes dry as you try to prepare for what might come next.
“Or, option two.” You swear his eyes darken as he says it. “You admit to me that you like me, and that you want me. And you let me take care of you. Which includes keeping you in my bed for as long as it takes me to make you come. I don’t care if it takes hours. I’ve got hours.”
He shrugs like he hasn’t just said the most devastating thing you’ve ever heard. “We can figure out the rest after. It doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. But it’s your call. I won’t be mad, whatever you choose. I just need to know.” He leans back on his hands, awaiting your choice.
“Jungkook,” you breathe. “You don’t know how tempting that offer is.” You try to say more, but he’s faster.
“Then say yes.”
You want to scream at him that it’s not that simple, that letting people all the way in is a door you slammed shut long ago, never to be opened again. But despite your best attempts, this cheeky, dorky, pierced and tattooed frat wonder boy has managed to wedge that door back open, just an inch. And it’s enough that now you can’t help but wonder what’s on the other side.
Maybe he’s right. Maybe it really can be that simple with him. Maybe safe doesn’t always have to mean alone. Isn’t that why you came to this party in the first place?
You let out a slow exhale, and then for the first time in your life, you decide to get out of your own way.
“Okay,” you say, and you have to work to keep your voice from shaking. “Yes. But,” you quickly add before he has a chance to react, “I don’t want this to turn into a big thing if…” you trail off. “You know. If I can’t.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” He says with a self-assured smile, and you hate that it’s so hot. “I have a secret weapon.”
And then he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, and the end of a silver barbell winks at you.
Your jaw drops. “I’m sorry, you have a tongue piercing?!”
He smirks. “Got it a couple months ago. It’s fully healed now, so you get to be my maiden voyage.” You cringe and he laughs self-consciously. “Sorry, that sounded cooler in my head.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re laughing too as his hands reach for your ankles. He gently starts to pull you towards him and you cross your legs, scooting the rest of the way forward until your knees are touching his.
“Can I please kiss you now?” Jungkook asks, but you take his face in your hands and beat him to it.
Given his competitive streak, a part of you had expected everything about this to be rough and hard, but the way he kisses you is so gentle, it’s romantic. You’d forgotten what it’s like to be kissed like this, intimate and slow, not just a tongue shoved down your throat. Jungkook is continuing to prove to you what he already has time and time again: he is nothing like any man you’ve ever met.
You are really curious about that piercing, though, so you tilt your head and tentatively lick into his mouth. When you bump against the metal post he whines a little, and goddamn, you need to be in his bed right fucking now.
He must have the same thought because his hands run firmly over your hips and you both maneuver to your feet without breaking apart. You let him guide you backwards until your knees hit the end of the bed, and you sit down and gaze up at him, breathless from his kisses.
You’re a little nervous, you realize, but then you see the way he’s looking at you. “God, you are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your face flushes.
Jungkook ducks his head to kiss you again, moving you to lay down, and his hand finds the small of your back beneath you. You can’t help but smile when he uses the arm wrapped around you to effortlessly lift you up and scoot you backwards to the head of the bed. You lean against the pillows as his tongue returns to your mouth.
His fingers start to play gently at the hem of your shirt as if asking a question. You nod and he pushes it up, your lips breaking apart only for as long as it takes to pull it over your head before finding each other again.
You reach to do the same for him, but he makes an “uh-uh” noise into your mouth, then pulls away. “I want this to be about you.”
You can’t help but laugh. “Jungkook, that is incredibly sweet, and it can absolutely be about me. But I think you will severely hurt your chances of bringing me to orgasm if you’re wearing that creamsicle nightmare shirt while you’re doing it."
He raises his eyebrows for a split second like he’s weighing whether or not he should accept that challenge, but then he shrugs with a grin and pulls his shirt off over his head. His body is ridiculous, lithe and toned, and he inhales sharply when you run your hands up his chest.
You realize now, as he unhooks your bra and tosses it off the edge of the bed, then starts to kiss down your jaw, that Jungkook is vocal. He makes these breathy little sighs against your skin as he goes, and when you do something like scratch your nails over his back or dip your head to trace your tongue along his neck, he outright moans. The low, raw sound makes your pussy throb.
Noise during sex has always been weird for you; you felt like guys expected you to be loud, which is hard to do convincingly when you’re nowhere near satisfied. But none of the sounds he’s making now seem in any way performative. You can tell it’s just him enjoying your shared pleasure the same way he does everything– unashamedly.
So when he sucks gently at the place where your neck and shoulder meet, lightly running his piercing over the sensitive skin there, your eyes flutter closed, and you don’t hold back the noise he pulls out of you.
“Fuck, Jungkook,” you breathe, and you feel him smile.
You’re overwhelmed by all the different sensations his mouth can make against your skin. He kisses, licks, drags his tongue ring, and bites along your neck and your collarbones, working you until you couldn’t keep quiet even if you wanted to. His hands slide up your waist, coming to cup your breasts, and he tries similar experiments with his thumbs over your nipples: barely-there tapping, then firmer pressure in slow circles, then light pinches that make you gasp and writhe.
He’s clearly educating himself, paying close attention to your responses to figure out the best ways to touch you and take you apart. No one has ever cared this much about what actually felt good to you before; this is a far cry from the half-hearted two minutes of foreplay you’re accustomed to. He really does act like he’s got all the time in the world.
The thought of him touching and kissing you like this for hours is dizzying. Even if he can’t make you come, you don’t fucking care, everything he’s doing still feels incredible. It’s a hell of a lot better than writing a paper.
Jungkook groans into your skin as he mouths down to your breasts, and when he shifts, you can feel his erection grind against your thigh. The knowledge that he’s just as turned on by this as you are, paired with a deft flick of his piercing over your nipple, makes you whine loudly. Your core is already aching to be touched, licked, fucked– anything.
He reaches to unbutton your pants while his lips and tongue still work at the bud of your breast in his mouth. Your hips lift up at his touch and he pulls your jeans down, dropping your nipple from between his teeth so you can kick them the rest of the way off.
His hands slip under the band of your panties with a grunt so heady it’s nearly a growl, but instead of pulling them down, he loops the fabric around his fingers once and pulls up, so the lace is pressed tight against your dripping cunt. Even that small amount of friction makes you whimper, your hips rocking in desperate search of relief.
“Can I take these off?” He pairs the question with another firm tug, so the lace rubs right over your clit as your hips circle.
You don’t even have the breath to answer, you want it so bad; you can only nod.
He pulls your panties off, tossing them to join the rest of your clothes on the floor before moving down between your spread legs. You’re so wet for him now that just his breath on your core is enough to make you moan.
You brush his hair off his forehead and watch as he brings his mouth to your thighs, trailing lips and teeth upwards. With each pass, he comes so close to where you want him, where you need him, but deliberately stops just shy, teasing you. He runs his tongue along the crease where your hip and thigh meet, and the drag of his piercing on your skin makes you cry out, delirious with anticipation.
But then his mouth goes in the wrong direction. Rather than close the small amount of distance left to finally, finally make contact with your cunt, he shifts away from it. His lips and tongue trail back over your hips, your stomach, and up the valley between your breasts. You lift your head in disbelief to watch him, and you don’t think you’re going to make it– you’ve never been denied pleasure like this before. Your eyes start to sting like they might well up with tears.
He keeps going, lips moving from your neck to your jaw and then finally back to your mouth. You turn your head to the side, your breathing ragged.
“Jungkook,” you nearly sob, “please.”
His voice is hoarse when he murmurs in your ear with a dark laugh, “I was wondering how long it would take you to beg for it. You really held out on me.” He kisses you again and you whine in frustration as he sucks on your bottom lip. He pulls away with a smile. “Talk to me. Tell me what you need.”
Your head swims; you try to form words through your desperation. “I– fuck, anything, anything. Please, Jungkook, please.” You sound so wrecked, so needy, but if he wants you to beg, you’ll do it, gladly. You’re going to die if he doesn’t touch you soon. Your hips shudder up against his, your nails dragging down his back.
“Good girl, love it when you say my name like that,” he groans into the crook of your neck, and your pussy clenches around nothing, your brain short-circuiting at the praise.
He doesn’t drag it out any longer– you don’t think you’d survive if he did– and instead just shifts to settle back between your legs. His hands come to your thighs and you’re so keyed up that you jump under his touch as he spreads you wide open. You’re nearly clawing at the bedsheets in preparation to finally feel him after so long, but instead of his fingers or his tongue, something wet hits your clit.
It takes a second for your brain to process that he spit on you. Fuck.
You look up to see him looking at you, wide-eyed, like he’s only just realized what he did. “Sorry, I should’ve asked first. Was that okay?”
It was fucking hot, actually, but you’re so far gone that you can’t make the words happen. You can only nod and roll your hips up toward him.
“Jungkook, please,” you manage to whimper one final time, and he dips his head to press a kiss to your inner thigh.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs against your skin, “I’ve got you.” And then he closes his lips around your clit.
“Oh my fucking god,” you moan, relief flooding through you like a shot in the arm. His movements aren’t that different from how he first kissed you, gentle and sweet, and your clit throbs when his lip ring rolls over it.
Jungkook’s mouth falls into a steady rhythm, and he’s groaning against your pussy like it feels good for him, too. Enthusiastic is the only way to describe the way he eats you out; you really do believe he could do this all day.
Alternating with the movement of his lips, he starts to incorporate long, slow licks of his tongue across your folds. There’s enough spit and slickness that his piercing slides right over your clit, and it’s a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before that has you bucking against his mouth. He whines mid-lick when you do, and the vibration rips through you, your back arching in response.
That earns you two of his fingers slipped into your cunt, and for the second time tonight, you think you might die. Your legs start to shake as his fingers curl inside you.
“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you groan. You don’t recognize your own voice; you’ve never made noise like this before, but nothing’s ever felt this good. You’re coming undone in his hands, under his tongue.
He changes up the rhythm on your clit, moving between fluidly swirling his piercing over it and pulling it into his mouth for hard suction. The pleasure is still overwhelming, but something about the switch-up takes you out of your body and into your head, and you falter for a moment.
He’s been at this for a while, and he does seem to be enjoying himself, but even so, you start to feel self-conscious. Are you taking too long? Is his tongue getting tired? What if you still can’t come from this?
Your momentary silence and lack of movement must be enough to send Jungkook’s competitive edge into overdrive, because he grabs your thigh with his free hand as if to pull you even closer and fully buries his face in your cunt.
He flattens his tongue against you and starts to shake his head aggressively, wiggling his tongue with it, and the barbell tapping rhythmically at your clit has you gasping for air and grabbing at the bedsheets.
As if that wasn’t enough, he adds a third finger inside you, slowing down for just a moment to make sure you’re accustomed to the stretch. He runs his free hand up your thigh and lays it flat below your stomach, pressing down firmly on your lower abdomen. You don’t know what to expect– no one’s ever done it to you before, but when he resumes rocking his fingers back and forth against your front wall under that extra pressure, you nearly drench his hand in arousal, it feels so good.
“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck!” You moan, and you wonder if the whole party downstairs can hear. You sound like a goddamn pornstar, the kind of noises that are so ridiculous you’d think they were fake if you weren’t experiencing the insane, all-encompassing pleasure yourself firsthand. Here, in Jungkook’s bed, in his fucking frat house, getting eaten out like you’re his last fucking meal.
You can’t even remember what you were worrying about now. There’s no space left in your brain for it, and your pussy is already starting to flutter around his fingers as you feel the pressure building in your core.
Out of sheer desperation, you wind a hand through his hair and lift your hips up against his mouth, matching his rhythm. He looks up at you and moans around your clit, nodding his head, clearly trying to encourage you without letting his tempo slow.
His breathing is ragged and loud as you grip his hair and rock your hips, bumping your clit against his pierced tongue again and again and again, exactly the way you need it.
Your moans increase in pitch and pace as you feel your orgasm crest. He responds back in time, encouraging you, his voice coming from some raw, primal place as he grunts open-mouthed, “uh-huh, uh-huh” against your clit, and you can hear his fingers working your cunt so well, and it’s all too fucking much.
You come so hard, it makes you question if you’ve ever actually had an orgasm before. Hands gripping at the sheets, toes curling, legs shaking violently, back arching up off the mattress, all with a loud moan that’s more like a sob. You have never in your life felt anything this good.
Jungkook slows but doesn’t stop as the aftershocks roll through you, slowly moving his head up and down to lick flat, long stripes over your clit as you continue to shudder against his face. Your thighs pull together reflexively when you become too sensitive, and that’s when he finally relents, pulling off and out of you.
You stare up at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe and wondering if you really did die after all. There’s a loud bang on the door, but you’re too blissed out to even give a fuck, and it’s just one of his frat bros yelling “alright, JK!” from the other side.
At least they’re supportive of a woman’s pleasure, you think, and then you can’t help but laugh at the sheer insanity of it all. Jungkook slides up the bed to lay next to you, and he’s smiling as he wipes his face with his hand.
“I guess you didn’t fake that one, huh?”
You can only shake your head as you struggle to get your breath back.
“Holy shit, I feel like I should say thank you,” you eventually manage, and he laughs his perfect laugh. You roll over to bury your face in his shoulder. “What the fuck, Jungkook– I think I saw my life flash before my eyes. That was fucking crazy.”
Jungkook flips onto his side facing you, propped up on one arm, his other hand gently running back and forth along the curve of your waist. “What can I say? I play to win.” He can’t hide his satisfied smile as the official winner of your first ever non-solo orgasm.
You lean against him, allowing your eyes to close again as your pulse slows, and you sigh contentedly as he presses his lips to your hairline.
“What time is it?” He asks after a few minutes. “Do you need to go write your paper?”
You tilt back to shoot him a death glare. “Do not mention my fucking paper right now, Jeon Jungkook. I’m trying to bask in the glow here.”
He laughs again and pulls you closer. “My bad.”
“And besides,” your face softens, and your eyes trace down to his hand that’s now gently palming over the front of his pants, where you can see the bulge of his erection. “I believe you promised me hours.”
He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Oh, I’ll give you hours.”
Your pussy doesn’t feel anywhere near recovered, but you’re somehow also aching for him to fuck you. If that was only his head game, you genuinely don’t think you’ll survive sex with Jungkook. But you’re willing to die trying.
“Come here,” his voice returns to that near-growl and he crawls over you, one hand cupping your jaw as he brings his lips to yours.
This time when his thigh presses between your legs, it’s on purpose. Your clit still twitches at the contact, but the pressure is indirect enough that it only feels good, and you rock your hips slowly into him.
You’re desperate to see him, touch him, return the favor, and your hand slips between your bodies to grab him through his pants. You whine against his lips when you feel how thick he is in your hand, and you pull little gasps out of him as you slowly start to pump him over the fabric.
“Please fuck me, Jungkook,” you whisper when you break apart, begging for it the way you’ve learned he likes, your hand still working him.
He bites down hard on your neck with a laugh, like he can’t believe you’re real.
You start to unbutton and push down his pants and then he flips onto his back to do the rest, shedding pants and boxers at the same time. You can’t help but giggle a little at his apparent urgency, pleased that he needs you just as bad, as he yanks his nightstand drawer out, retrieves a condom, and rips it open with his teeth.
But that urgency is gone once he’s hovering over you, cock teasing at your entrance, your knees bent and legs spread for him. It’s replaced by that same look in his eyes, those same gentle kisses, and arousal pooling in your belly at the realization that he really could do this for hours. But you need him now.
“Please,” you whisper one more time, and he groans against your throat as he pushes into you.
His pace is slow, hips rolling fluidly, and you’re still so sensitive that your walls flutter around him with each thrust. The thickness of his cock feels just as good as you thought it would. You moan loudly, arching back against the pillow, as his head drags over your sweet spot.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice ragged. He keeps rolling his hips, stroking so slow and deep that it’s pleasure and torture all in one.
Jungkook must be a fast learner, because when he thrusts into you one more time and you whine in response, the same strangled noise you made when he teased your cunt, he knows what you need. You don’t even have to beg for it.
His hands slide along the backs of your thighs and he pushes, just a little, folding your legs up so your pelvis tilts to give him full access to your cunt. And then he picks up the pace.
The pleasure is overwhelming as he bottoms out inside you over and over, and you’re already close to the edge of a second climax. You rake your nails down his back and his hips move even faster, both of you moaning with every thrust. The sound of skin on skin is so loud it’s obscene; there’s no way the whole party doesn’t know what you’re up to by now.
You don’t give a shit. You hope they’re all jealous.
Your legs start to shake as the pressure in your core builds, and you’re suddenly in dire need of release all over again. You move to reach a hand down between your legs, but Jungkook doesn’t miss a thing.
He lets go of one of your thighs to knock your hand away, replacing it with his own, his thrusts never slowing. You watch this time as he spits on your clit again, and then starts to rub circles over it.
It’s a touch you’ve felt before, fast and hard, usually performed by a guy who has no idea what he’s doing, and usually painful as all hell.
But Jungkook is very obviously a fucking expert in his field, and he must know that when you’re as slick as you are from his mouth and your own arousal, and you’ve already come once, and you’re this insanely turned on and desperate for it, it doesn’t hurt at all. Your hips lift up off the bed because right now, it’s fucking perfect.
“Oh my fucking god, Jungkook, fuck, yes, don’t stop–” you cry out, and your last moan is nearly a scream as you come all the way undone for him. Your cunt squeezes tightly around his length, and he only has to rut into you a few more times before he’s coming, too, with a loud groan of your name.
His head drops onto your shoulder as he finishes, gasping for breath. You lean back against the pillows, still shuddering a little but entirely spent, fucked out of your mind.
You’re only vaguely aware of what’s happening when he pulls out of you, or when the bed shifts as he gets up to dispose of the condom, then collapses back down next to you with a dazed sigh.
You roll into him, still lost for words, and he wraps both arms around you. You can hear his heart thudding hard in his chest, the same tempo as yours.
A laugh rips through you as you play the last few moments back and remember his hand shoving your own away. You look up at him. “So what are you, in charge of my orgasms now? Did I sign a contract tonight?”
“No,” he gives a small smile, and you see a blush creep up his neck at the reminder of something done clearly in the heat of the moment. “I don’t know. No one had ever made you come once before, so… I just wanted to do it twice. Set a new number to beat.”
You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the grin on your face. “I’m not a video game, Jungkook.”
“Nope,” he laughs, tightening his grip around you. “You are so much better.” He ducks down to kiss you gently.
You’re still smiling when he moves to rest his chin on your head. “And you are better than my vibrator.”
There’s a comfortable pause, and then you decide you may as well do what you do best and ruin everything. “So, is now the time when I ask you the phrase that every frat boy dreads to hear?” You start, and he’s already looking at you when you glance up again. “What are we?”
He shrugs, looking totally nonplussed. “That’s up to you. I will literally go out there right now and announce to the entire party that you’re my girlfriend and I’m the first man to ever make you come, if that’s what you want.”
You press your face to his chest and laugh self-consciously. “Well, I think they already know about the second part. I wasn’t exactly quiet.”
His lips brush against your temple. “Don’t be. I want them all to know who’s fucking you right.”
You sigh, wondering how on earth this kid is real. There’s a big part of you, especially with the high of two orgasms rattling around in your brain, that wants to take the leap right now, straight into the unknown. You want to trust him fully, but you’re still scared of the uncertainty, the potential for disaster. It’s been a long time since you let someone all the way in.
“But the G word…” you say nervously. “That’s a lot for me, at least right now.”
“Okay,” Jungkook says simply, and when you meet his gaze, the look on his face betrays no hurt feelings or hidden agenda. It makes you feel like it really is okay. “We can be whatever you want,” he continues. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You can feel yourself getting emotional, and you bring your cheek to his chest again, hoping he can’t tell. “Well, whatever label we put on it, you are eating me out like that at least once a week.”
“Once a week?” He huffs softly. “How about once a day?” He shifts slightly to trail kisses along your neck. “Actually,” he murmurs in your ear, “I could go for seconds right now…”
You laugh and shove against his chest. “Hey, I’m still getting used to this brave new world over here. If you make me come again tonight I think I might literally die in your bed.” He relents with a smug smile and a kiss pressed to your cheek.
“But if you wanted to wake me up that way tomorrow…” you offer, and he gets that goddamn look in his eyes, the one that may forever be known as the look that ruined your life.
“Oh, I think we can make that happen.”
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
Introducing: Rook “Duke” Alistair
(Just a little character intro before she makes a proper appearance in the SpecGru fic)
It’s 2am.
It’s 2am and Kate’s phone is buzzing. A rapid, violent bzzt-bzzt-bzzzzzzt pattern that shakes the few other items on the nightstand. Incessant. Important.
She plucks it off the charger already wide awake, propped on one elbow to block some of the screen light from reaching the other side of the bed.
“Laswell,” she answers, hushed.
The voice on the other end is not. “Gooood mornin’, boss.”
“It’s 2am, Duke.”
“It’s 2:17 to be precise.”
Kate doesn’t bother to check the clock. “You're calling for a good reason, I assume.”
“Of course!” In the background, there’s a computerized ding. Then the clacking of a keyboard. Duke continues, still bright as birdsong, “I have a lead on that terrorist cell. Not - hold on - Nelson, put my slushee back in there I’ll get it in a damn minute! Anyway, not the one with the ugly flag. The one with the dumb name.”
Nelson, Kate thinks vaguely, is going to get mysteriously transferred if he doesn’t stop messing with a certain tech’s frozen treats. This is the third time this week.
“The Gun Fathers?” she offers.
“Haha, yeah them!” More clicking. A thump and a yelp in the background. “They’re planning on taking some exchange students hostage in Russia.”
Kate’s slips out of bed, phone held in place with her shoulder. Sighs a little wistfully at her wife’s sleeping form, but duty calls. She’ll make this up to her - dinner at that nice tapas place, maybe. Duke can get them a reservation.
“What students?”
“Working on the individual files now, but it looks like a fun mix. Some Australians, some Brits, a bunch of US citizens… ooh, someone from France, that’s rough.”
Hell, that’s a lot of governments to coordinate with.
“Where?” Kate asks, tugging her socks on.
“Looks like they’re going to grab them from a hotel in the Caucuses. Caucuses? Cauc-ussies? Cucksies?”
She pauses to drop a gentle kiss to her wife’s cheek, then pads out of their bedroom. The house is dark, cool. She navigates without light, stepping into her shoes.
“How many?”
The cats stretch as she passes through the living room, snatching her shoulder holster out of the hall closet.
“16 students total, not sure how many terrorists. Aw, is Chauncey awake? Give him a smooch for me! These dummies usually go for a ratio of three innocents to one dummy though. Ugh it’s not a round number.”
More clacking. The sound of a plastic rapper through the earpiece. Duke’s broken out the candies then.
“What else have you got for me?”
“It looks like we’ve got about 35 hours until they move in. But! We confiscated their new supply of guns during that border raid soooooo—” she clicks her tongue, the typing sounds get much louder and faster for a moment. “They should be… pretty… low… on… ammo…”
A pause Duke seems to focus on something. Kate takes the opportunity to finish’s dressing, keys in her hand. She pats Chauncey and Augustus as she passes them.
“I’ll be there in fifteen,” she says.
A hum. “Eleven, actually. I have the traffic system pulled up.”
Of course she does. Laswell would tell her to stop doing that if she thought it would do any good.
“I’m sending a bunch of files your way,” Duke adds. “Drive safe and give Chauncey that damn smooch!”
The phone beeps as the call disconnects. When Kate looks at her phone screen, she’s got a small library of information waiting for her. Names, locations, pictures and security feeds - and a note promising more on the way.
103 notes
·
View notes
Note
Bro, I always go on grindr and watch all this good looking gay muscular Koreans in the map (im in germany). They are on the Otter side of the world... I overcame myself and wrote to someone to maybe get a photo or two. But he immediately freaked out and told me he would show me what it would be, to be just an eye candy to someone else... I've been feeling very strange ever since, as if something was happening to me. Do you know what's happening here?
Lunch break. Finally you find a little distraction. Eating always helps you. You can tell by the paunch you carry around that you need help a lot. Of course, you're sitting alone in the cafeteria again. And you're secretly surfing Grindr on your cell phone for lots of unavailable guys. But today you get a surprisingly large number of positive messages. All well and good, but you want to go for a walk before you have to go back to your desk. So you finish your salad with turkey breast and take another spin around the block. Including the evening run, your goal is to get 20,000 steps.
Back at the office, you close the door behind you. Sure, that's not okay during work, but you've never had so many chat requests. Your account literally explodes. Damn, was your profile name always hot_otter_dick? Sure, that's also your channel at OnlyFans. It's time for a live stream again. Turn on the camera and unbutton your shirt. You ask into the camera, grinning, whether the other lads out there are also so hot. You run your hand over your chest. Shit, where does this new self-confidence come from? Actually, you would never show your flabby chest online. Especially not when you're at work. Take it easy! Flabby? Good one! You have countless laps in the pool to thank for your slim and firm body. And it's your job to show off your chest. That's why you've set up your little studio at home.
"Lads, do you agree that it's time to trim the fur again?" The news is all over the place. Your fans love it when you trim your chest hair on camera. Don't shave it off. A little bit always has to stay. Otters are otters.
Shit, today some of your fans are really pushy and brazen. You should shake your ass, you should show your dick… Mostly Asians. Sure, with them it's already night, sitting jerking off in front of the screen. And with you is just early afternoon… Of course, this is all pure meat show… But you earn your money with it. And you earn not little…
After trimming your chest hair you go to the pool. It's not yours, of course. But it's good to have rich friends. You are pleasing to them. And you take advantage of it. Of course, in principle, you have become a whore. But let's not fool ourselves: There is not much going on with your brain, you will never be much more than eye candy for a wealthy audience.
Otter found @rawworld
147 notes
·
View notes
Note
I'm intrigued to knowing what type of music genre they all listen to, but we all know alcina likes jazz. But other than jazz, does she likes something else? 👀
Also, what type of music does Miranda even listen to? OMMGGG???
Miranda has two things she listens to. Publicly she listens to classical and like world recognized musicians. In private she listens to 80s-90s pop and yes I'm sorry to tell you she listens to Taylor Swift
She actually really likes Linkin Park
Donna likes listening to Michael Buble and Christina Perri too, people with soft voices that can be calming and as previously mentioned Mitski and Alt Rock
Cinder
for bela, she likes classical because she uses it to help her study, but she likes to a lot of angrier classical music like Dance of the Knights by Prokofiev
cassandra listens to a lot of musicals (heathers candy store is her number one song….for reasons, but she also likes cell block tango from chicago)
daniela likes listening to indie rock, old school rock, lo-fi for calmer moments when she wants to relax, but mostly she'll listen to everything, even angie's awful dj mixes
angie likes music that gets her hyper- think edm, house, rave, techno, pop music or remixes of popular songs. she hates classical because she thinks it's boring, and she also hates slow songs
alcina is mainly jazz, but she does on the occasion indulge in some swing and is surprised to find she doesn't mind electro swing but would never admit this to anyone or be caught dead listening to it
Bee
116 notes
·
View notes
Text
playlists
I made playlist for hazbin hotel characters
charlie, vaggie, alastor, angel dust, husk, niffty, sir pentious (bonus adam)
❤️ Charlie ❤️
❤️ Humility, gorillaz
❤️ Lights, ellie goulding
❤️ Gateway to the stars, skeleton staff
❤️ Cry baby, melody martinez
❤️ Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows, Lesley gore
❤️ KK bubblegum, animal crossing
❤️ Charlie’s inferno, the handsome devil
❤️ The exorcist, calypso
❤️ Space unicorns, parry gripp
❤️ Out of my league, fitz and the tantrums
❤️ Heathens, 21 pilots
❤️ Devil town, cavetown
❤️ Rat, penelope scott
💜 Vaggie 💜
💜 Saint benard, lincoln
💜 Angel with a shotgun, the cab
💜 I wouldn't mind, he is we
💜 Hell’s coming with me, poor man’s poison
💜 Mary on a cross, ghost
💜 Notion, the rare occasion
💜 Butch 4 butch, rio romeo
💜 Training wheels, melody martinez
💜 All the good girls go to hell, billie eilish
💜 Soku eye, gorillaz
💜 Spear of justice, toby fox
💜 Roar, katy perry
💜 Raincoat, studio killers
🧡 Alastor 🧡
🧡 Twisted, missio
🧡 All eyes on me, or3o
🧡 Our love is god, heathers musical
🧡 Animals, maroon 5
🧡 Dismemberment song, blue kid
🧡 Animal cannibal, karen skladany
🧡 We'll meet again, vera lynn
🧡 Terry's taxidermy, teddy hyde
🧡 Christmas kids, roar
🧡 Arms tonite, mother mother
🧡 The hunting song, tom lehrer
🧡 Necromancing dancing, bear ghost Happy face, jagwar twin
🩷 Angel Dust 🩷
🩷 Epoch, the living tombstones
🩷 Say amen (saturday night) panic! At the disco
🩷 Bad romance, lady gaga
🩷 Candy store, heathers musical
🩷 Grrrls, aviva
🩷 Take a hint, victorious cast
🩷 Bubble gum bit*h, marina and the diamonds
🩷 Baby hotline, jack starbur
🩷 Weak, AJR
🩷 Bad habits, steve lacy
🩷 Vending machine of love, the stupendium
🩷 Front street, will wood and the tapeworms
🩷 Control, halsey
🤎 Husk 🤎
🤎 Let me down slowly, alec benjamin
🤎 Dirty harry, gorillaz
🤎 Ghosting, mother mother
🤎 Hand me my shovel i am going in, will wood and the tapeworms
🤎 The good, the bad and the dirty, panic! At the disco
🤎 The gambler, kenny rogers
🤎 Let's get this over with, they might be giants
🤎 Cats, dogs, and rats, rare americans
🤎 Your gonna go far kid, the offsrping
🤎 Pardon me, he is we
🤎 Coffee, jack starbur
🤎 Look who’s inside again, bo burham
🤎 Tennessee whiskey, chris stapleton
🤍 Niffty 🤍
🤍 Girlfriend, hemlock spring
🤍 Body, mother mother
🤍 Bill waterson, lemon demon
🤍 The masochism tango, tom lehrer
🤍 The red means i love you, madds buckley
🤍 Cell block tango, Chicago musical
🤍 Runs in the family, amanda palmer
🤍 Killer queen, queen
🤍 Hello kitty, avril lavigne
🤍 Pretty little psycho, theexorcist
🤍 Cannibal, kesha
🤍 Barbie girl, aqua
🤍 Curses, crane wives
💛 Sir Pentious 💛
💛 Love like you, steven universe
💛 Give and take, poor man’s poison
💛 Oh klahoma, jack starbar
💛 I’ll rust with you, steam powered giraffe
💛 Mr blue sky, electric light orchestra
💛 Hidden in the sand, tally hall
💛 Egg and soldiers, cosmo sheldrake
💛 Rhinestone eyes, gorillaz
💛 Man made objects, lemon demon
💛 Under my skin, jukebox ghost
💛 Bang!, AJR
💛 Secrets, one republic
💛 Savior of the skies, the cog is dead
🩵 Adam 🩵
🩵 Main character, will wood and the tapeworms
🩵 Stick it to the man, school of rock
🩵 Eighth wonder, lemon demon
🩵 Verbatim, mother mother
🩵 They’re only human, death note musical
🩵 American idiot, green day
🩵 5/4, gorillaz
🩵 Punk tactics, joey valance and brae
🩵 Kiss me son of god, they might be giants
🩵 DONTTRUSTME, 3OH!3
🩵 blood//water, grandson
🩵 Another way out, hollywood undead
🩵 Modern day cain, I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME
#hazbin hotel#hellaverse#charlie morningstar#alastor#angel dust#niffty#hazbin hotel husk#sir pentious#vaggie hazbin hotel#character playlist#songs
21 notes
·
View notes
Text
✪ In This Universe ✪
paring: Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova, and their older brother
summary: when Yelena accidently gets hurt, her older brother is there to help her have fun again. and Natasha is just laughing at her brother.
warnings: i don't think any, it's just fluff/comfort
a/n: got this idea cuz last year my class went to the younger kids school and this little girl came up to me and pulled a children's makeup kit, and asked to do my makeup so i could, and i quote, "be a pretty boy" as i trans man, I wanted to cry but like, anyway. I wore that makeup look for the entire day. also, nicknames are ones my family members call me and they are definitely my favorites that people call me. kind of a weird ending but i just wanted to remind yall the pain that is Natasha knew her family was fake the entire time she was there and had to live with that.
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-
With one sister on your shoulders and the other cradled in your arms, you walk away from the playground and back to your house. Yelena hit her head on a tree, and after comforting her, you put Natalia on your shoulders and picked up the little blonde to take them home. It’s easy to hold the light girls, so you do the entire neighborhood block walk.
Your mother sees you guys from the kitchen window where she’s washing dishes, and signs before walking outside and taking Yelena from your arms. The little girl is always getting hurt, which a lot of people think proves your mother and father aren’t good parents. They aren’t wrong, but you got kicked out of your old middle school for fighting with other kids who talked crap way too often. It wasn’t about defending your reputation, but your younger sisters. Your reputation is long gone, being known as Strings in hydra due to your ability to control minds. But Natalia and Yelena, they shouldn’t have to deal with that yet. Natalia already has, and now that you guys can live in semi peace in Ohio you are determined to let her keep that peace.
You lean down a bit so Natasha doesn’t hit her head as you walk through the front door, following your mother to the living room and setting the blue haired girl down on the couch and making your way to the kitchen for an ice pack.
“What happened? Your mom asks you. “We were playing tag and she didn't notice the tree in front of her because she was focused on me behind her.” You say, and the older woman sighs and orders, “you need to start taking better care of your sisters alright?” you quietly scoff and mumble, “Right.” Being the oldest sibling and already in your teen years, it is your duty to watch over your younger sisters all day while your dad is at work and your mom simply does whatever she feels like doing that afternoon. You love the girls, but sometimes you wish you could go off and have fun like all the kids in your school get to do. But you would never complain, just out of fear that Melina- your mother- would send you back to Hydra to be locked up in a cell once again to only be used when they need you.
Yelena holds the ice pack to her own forehead and gives you a small smile. “I'm okay солнечный свет.” Sunshine. That's what the small blonde said in Russian. When you and Natasha first moved to Ohio- Yelena coming soon after that- the little girl's were the only ones who could get through your stone cold heart. That earned you the title, “Sunshine” in Russian from them, and they became known to you as: “Пчелка” and “конфеты”.
“little bee” and “candy”
Yelena is little bee, simply for the fact that she loves bees. and Natalia is candy because she loves to dye her hair different colors. It's basically just a shortened version of the nickname cotton candy.
Your mom goes back to the dishes, and you pick each little girl up in each arm and carry them to your room over your shoulders like they're sacks of potatoes. This earns you loud laughs from the children as you throw them down on your bed.
The girls have lots of their own personal stuff in your room, because they spend most nights in your bed, making you read them stories and watch cartoons with them. You're always happy to spend time with your siblings, and you try your best not to let the little voice inside your head saying, “they're not your real family and they never will be” take over.
Both girls get comfortable on your bed, and you open a book as you lay in the middle of them. Suddenly Yelena's little voice speaks up, “солнечный свет?” you hum in acknowledgement and glance up from the book for a quick second. “Can I do your makeup?” Her question catches you a bit off guard and you giggle. “Mine? Why mine?” She shrugs. “Because you let me run into a tree.” She states casually, and Natalia chuckles at the gaslighting. The little girl is learning so much from her two older siblings.
You sigh, sending her a smile and putting your book down. “Of course you can little bee. Go grab your stuff.” She runs to her own room with a giggle, and comes back with a sparkly pink children's makeup kit. Your mother got it for her a bit ago, but Yelenas never really been too interested in stuff like makeup- unless she's putting it on you of course.
She settles into Natalia's lap, and opens the kit. “So big brother, what color eyeshadow do you want?” The little girl asks, and you quickly reply with an answer you know she'll love, “The brightest pink you got kid.” Natalia helps her scan through the colors until they eventually settle on one. She uses the tiny brush to begin putting it on your now closed eyelids, and you try your best to not flinch away every time she presses the brush too hard into your eyes.
She then moves onto blush, and you peak one eye open when Natalia giggles. Yelena is pushing the makeup brush into a shimmery blue, and then draws a small circle on the middle of both your cheeks. She grabs one of the lipstick tubes, and you're just praying it isn't the one she used to draw on a tree the other day.
Natalia won't stop laughing the whole time, you open your eyes to glare at the eleven year old for a few seconds which only makes her laugh harder.
A few minutes later, Yelena says, “And…….done! you look so pretty солнечный свет!” She hands you a small mirror, and you take a moment to look at yourself in the blurry plastic. You have bright pink on your eyelids that messily goes onto your eyebrows, small blue circles acting as blush like an old timey doll, purple lipstick that barely covers your lip and goes onto the rest of your face, and a random red blob on your chin.
Even with this terrible makeup, you smile at your little sister. “I look amazing Lena!” you half lie, because it truly does look good because it was done by your sister. Anything she could do in life would be amazing to you.
Her smile grows, and you can't help but burst into laughter at the way Natalia is looking at you. Her eyes are scanning your face, and she doesn't say anything for a moment before she begins laughing too. Yelena doesn't seem to care, as she presses a kiss to your nose and giggles when you scrunch it.
Your mother calls for Yelena to come pick up her toys in the living room, and there is silence between you and Natalia until she mumbles, “Why do you love us? We're not your real siblings.” There is no harshness to her words, just curiosity. “Because it's real in another universe. And it's real to her.” She looks up at you confused, so you elaborate, “The multiverse. In another universe, we are all blood related. None of our pasts ever happened. No red room, no hydra, no Dreykov. Just us.” She smiles, a bit of hope in her eyes. “Is the multiverse real солнечный свет?” She asks. You sigh. “I don't know Tasha…..but if it was….would you rather spend an eternity searching for the perfect one, or stay in this one where we have okay lifes?” She takes a moment to think about it before she nods, “I'd rather stay here. Lena's happy, I'm pretty happy, and I think you're happy.” You chuckle and press a kiss to her forehead. “I'm very happy candy…..so happy.”
#natasha romanoff#yelena belova#sibling reader#marvel x you#marvel x reader#black widow#the black widow
30 notes
·
View notes
Note
So I found your “Violence and Timing” fic which led me to ao3 and I binge read every chapter. It is really good. Like really good. Like really fucking good. Like I was up all night last night just reading through those chapters because it’s so good. I just had to let you know because wow. I’m kinda sad I finished all the chapters so far because I feel like I just finished a tv show and I always get sad whenever I finish those. So yeah… just letting you know your writing is top tier.
It Was Supposed to Be Simple:
Captain Price x F Reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Summary: For Price, it was supposed to be a simple mission. For you, it was supposed to be the most important meeting of your life. But nothing ever goes to plan, does it?
(A/N: Thank you so much @peepawsbeardhair ! That's incredibly sweet to say. I've put a lot of excerpts from that story on Tumblr and people seem to eat it up, but I've never posted the first chapter. Maybe it's time?! )
---------------------
RUSSIA. DECEMBER 2022
---------------------
“Bravo 5 how copy?”
Captain Price’s surveillance crackled to life in his ear as Gaz responded, “Approaching Building 1 from the west now sir.”
“Rog. Ghost what’s your status?” The bitter winds burned his lunges with each deep breath.
Another crackle, “In position on the east. Ready to breach on your order Captain.”
The blizzard had made for good cover. In the ten minutes Price had occupied his overwatch position nearly half an inch of snow had gathered on his back. His fingers ached as he pinched his radio.
“Alright lads. On my order in 3, 2, 1. Go!”
For the next several minutes gun smoke, fire, and blood filled the air. The mission was simple. Enter the building, kill any armed guards, and secure the intel.
The location, albeit currently freezing Price to his very core, hadn’t been a complicated one either. An old remote KGB intelligence outpost deep in the heart of Siberia; small, run-down, minimally guarded.
“Nothing that’ll win you chest candy.” Ghost had quipped when Laswell briefed the trio on the mission.
While Price fired another sniper round into the building, he thought back to the last words Laswell had said to him before he had boarded the helo at base.
“We have solid intel the Russians are planning something John. Something big. I know this isn’t the type of job I usually ask of you boys, but we need this intel and we need it now.”
Price didn’t mind that it was a straightforward mission. In fact, he was looking forward to something simpler. Scars and nightmares often reminded Price of his more complicated missions. He hoped this trip wouldn’t add to either of his unwanted collections.
Another cackle over the comms, “Captain, the building is clear.”
“Copy you Lieutenant. You have eyes on the intel?”
“Yes sir. But Captain…” Price heard Ghost’s voice waver ever so slightly. The most minute change in pitch.
“Bloody hell Price, you’re gonna want to see this.”
---------------------
LONDON. DECEMBER 2022
---------------------
“Just a hot coffee black. You know what actually, can you add a shot of espresso in there? Sorry, yeah thanks.”
“One red-eye. Anything else today?”
“No, no that’s all thanks.”
You knew the caffeine wouldn’t help your shaky hands. The extra shot certainly wouldn’t quell your uneasy and empty stomach either, but you moved onward, grabbing your order and heading out to the street. You had more important things to worry about today.
As you took your first sip a text came through on your cell.
“In the lobby now. They want to move meeting w/ Deputy CTO up. Didn’t say why. Can you be here in 10?”
Luckily you’d been pacing around the same three London blocks for 20 minutes now.
“Be there in 2.”
You crossed the street and made your way into the towering high-rise lobby. It was crowded with businessmen. You tried to scan the room for your boss. Where the hell was he? Damn it, all these men in suits looked the same.
“Didn’t get me a coffee then?”
“Jesus! Oh my god, I didn’t see you sitting there. Why the hell did you scare me like that!?”
You nearly spilled your coffee whirling around to face your boss. He’d been quietly sitting in a corner, briefcase and winning smile in tow.
“And why are there so many people in this goddamn building right now anyway?”
You tried to calm yourself a bit. The espresso was a bad choice. Your nerves were on fire.
“Did you forget who we’re meeting with today? Half the people in here are Secret Service. We’re lucky the CTO has a few minutes to spare for us between these international summit meetings. ”
You looked around the room. Now that he’d said it, you realized there weren’t a lot of grey hair men in the lobby. Most of these guys were younger, closer to 30, and their posture was straighter than anyone who normally spent 8 hours a day slumped over a desk.
“Right, yeah that makes sense.”
“Hey.”
You looked back at your boss. He smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners.
“We got this okay. Don’t be nervous. You’ve made something that’s gonna change the world, so let’s change it okay.”
You took a deep breath and nodded.
“Okay. You’re right.”
“I’m always right.” He huffed out a low chuckle. “Let’s head to the elevators. We’re meeting on the 56th floor.”
Your boss grabbed his briefcase, you clutched your coffee, and the two of you made your way across the room. As you waited for an elevator you took a final look over the cramped lobby when you thought you saw… him. He was in a black jacket, dark jeans, boots, and a hat pulled low over his face. You were sure it was him. It couldn’t be. But it…
“You coming or what?” Your boss’s voice cut through your racing thoughts.
“Yeah, sorry. I’m coming” You entered the elevator and tried to put the man’s image out of your mind. It was probably just the coffee and your nerves. A mirage brought on by stress and anxiety. You really didn’t need that extra shot.
A very official-looking staffer met you on the 56th floor. She led you to the meeting space, a modern but sterile-looking conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows, tinted glass separating the room from the hallway, and a massive oak table with a dozen chairs.
“The Vice President and Deputy Chief Technology Officer will be with you both shortly. Please have a seat.”
“Wait the Vice President? Like the Vice President of the United States? He’s coming to our meeting? I thought we were just meeting with the Deputy?” The sentences jumped out of your mouth quicker than you would have liked.
“Yes, as you may know, the Vice President has made technology and anti-terrorism efforts a focus of his office for several years now. He’s been briefed on your work by the CTO and is eager to discuss further details with you both.”
And with that sudden news, the staffer disappeared, slipping back out into the hallway.
As you watched her figure move down the hall behind the tinted glass, the walls felt like they were starting to push in on you. Could the ceiling be dropping in on you too? You took another sip of your coffee, nerves fully on fire again.
Several more minutes of pacing and pep talks occurred before the conference room door opened again. The staffer was back with important friends this time.
After the most formal introductions of your life, your boss took over with his presentation. It’d been decided a long time ago he’d handle the flashy intro and you’d seal the deal with the demo. This was your baby after all and no one knew it better than you.
As your boss finished the pitch you stood from your chair, resting your hands firmly on the briefcase he’d brought. The leather was cool and soft.
You locked eyes with your boss. His eyes crinkled at you again. You felt the air come back into your lungs and the walls didn’t feel so close anymore. You could do this.
As you slipped your hands inside the briefcase the sound of heavy boots echoed outside. Black shadows in the shape of half a dozen men darkened the tinted glass separating the conference room and the hallway. Then came the voices; deep, angry, decidedly unAmerican.
“If you fucking muppets don’t let me into that room I promise you you’ll regret ever stepping foot in this bloody country.”
An agent whipped opened the conference door, nearly tumbling over as four combat-clad men pushed their way inside.
“Diaz, what’s going on?” The Vice President eyed the fumbling agent.
“Sir, we need to move you to…”
The agent's voice was cut off as the windows behind you exploded rocking you forward. Shards of glass rained down on your back as your ribs collided with the oak table. Every ounce of air was knocked from your lungs as you crumbled to the floor. The table toppled over onto its side in front of you while behind you the room opened up to the London skyline.
Total silence enveloped the room except for a high pitch buzzing that felt like it was crawling its way out from deep inside your ear.
Enormous pain rippled throughout your chest as you reached above you for the briefcase now precariously dangling off the edge of the table. You pulled the smooth leather to your chest.
As your braced your forearms on the ground and pushed yourself up to your full height you heard a murmur of a deep voice. Someone was trying to penetrate the ringing in your ears, but you couldn’t understand. The buzzing was still too loud.
Fully upright you came face to face with one of the foreign soldiers. He towered several inches above you, a British flag squarely on his chest. His steely blue irises glanced over your body and when his eyes came back to rest on your face his pupils were nearly double in size.
Then the soldier lunged at you.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Price wrapped one of his hands around your waist and the other on the back of your head as he tackled you to the floor. He didn’t care about the bruises he’d leave on your hip as he pressed his full weight roughly against you. He needed you on the ground now.
“Get down! Sniper on the roof across the street. Soap take him out now!”
“On it!”
Before Soap could pull out his rifle the first shot rings throughout the conference room. Price watches as it slams into a businessman’s chest ripping flesh and bone. He can taste the terribly familiar scent of coppery blood in the air.
Before the crimson cloud can even reach the carpet, another shot. This one takes down the stubborn agent who delayed Price getting into this room. A mist of blood plumes where the man once stood. Price grits his teeth.
Then another bang. This time the staffer is down.
Soap fires next. His Scottish timbre yells out, “Sniper down.”
Ropes drop down outside the building. Price knows this means the fight is just beginning. He quickly kneels removing himself from you and grabs your hand, yanking you to a seated position. He can see tears forming in your eyes. He can’t worry about exfiltrating a civilian now. Secure the high-value officials and eliminate the threat, those words repeat in his mind like a command he’s ordering to himself. There are only seconds before this room will be invaded.
But he won’t leave you here out in the open, he can’t watch another civilian die if he can stop it. So without saying a word he looks at you and points to a spot behind the overturned table. He hopes you’ll understand his wordless intention. You hadn’t answered him when he’d asked if you were alright after the blast, a shot eardrum from the blast most likely.
Price lets out a small breath as he watches you scurry to cover behind the overturned table.
He reminds himself of his own order, secure the officials. Price barks, “Gaz, Ghost get the VP and CTO out of here now! Roof’s compromised take the stairs. Go!”
“Moving now sir.” Ghost answers.
Then comes the smoke, the Russian voices, and the sound of boots crunching on carpet and broken glass. Prices slides in next to you behind the cover of the large overturned oak table, shoulders and thighs pressing up against each other. He can feel your body shaking. He doesn’t need to see your face to know that tears are down your cheeks by now.
Price peers around the table. The smoke is thick. Wait, he tells himself. The haze will thin out soon with the windows blown away. Wait … for the moment to strike. Wait… for the enemy to compromise themselves. Wait… because everything in Price’s life depends on the perfect balance of violence and timing.
One of the Russians get’s impatient and fires a rogue round into the ceiling. Patience pays off and Price shoots his pistol. One down.
The smoke is clearing fast now. Price moves from his cover behind the table. Soap emerges from the receding smoke with him. They fire and fight together, pushing their way forward toward the London skyline with bullets, knives, and brute force. Russians falling one by one in their wake.
There’s no one left in front of Price to gun down when he hears a scream from behind him. You’re standing by the door, briefcase clutched to your chest, and knife to your throat. One of the Russians must have taken the stairs from the roof down, sneaking into the room during the fighting.
Price tries to remind himself to wait. To wait for the right moment. To pair his violence with perfect timing… but your eyes. Your eyes beg him not to. Your eyes beg Price to move now, to fight now, to save you now.
So he moves. Price raises his pistol and fires. But at that same moment, you move and two bodies hit the floor.
Fuck. What had Price done?
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(Read the rest of this story here)
#call of duty#captain price#captain john price#john price#captain john price x reader#cod#call of duty fic#captain john price x you#captain price x reader#captain johnathan price
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
So..Concept Au!
Name: El3ctr4-H3art
Ship: Dreamnoblade
Dream was a hybrid of cupid, a literal cotton candy, only he did not fall in love, he stole love and in turn, he also gradually took away vital energy. In the illogical world, he was a monster, full of sugar and obsession. , with pink and curly hair. But in the human world, he was a pop star, from the band 'Electra heart', that's where he got his precious love...
Right now he was on the beaches of the illogical world, after a great concert where his amoretia cage managed to get kilos and kilos of feelings. His bare feet rested on the unreal pearly sands of the beach towards the sea. It was night and the great moon of one eye watched him. The darkness was lurking and his clothes were somewhat summery, since in the human world it was summer and he had to dress accordingly... right now he was talking on his phone with his partner: Gogy ♡
Gogy 💙
Online.
'Dream, I have to tell you something..'
- 'What could be more important than what I'm telling you? I just told you that the concert was incredible...we can eat for months!"
'Dream..We cut.'
Gogy 💙
Offline
[This user has blocked you]
..Dream stopped dead. His response was immediate, starting to run to the seashore and collapsing on the sand while crying and screaming. He broke his cell phone and with all his strength, threw it to the bottom of the sea while he continued crying.
The phone, being the latest model, was waterproof, its screen remained on even when it fell to the bottom of the ocean. Once it hit the bottom, a creature took it, one with fins. The creature took it and started swimming. even deeper, once he entered an endless void, he emerged from a pond appearing in a throne room, full of mirrors and watching eyes, all in darkness...although for the eyes of the sea creature; That was blue and black, like the seabed, The creature handed over the phone, and his boss; The Emperor of the Abyss. he took it with reluctance.
- "A disappointed boy..Dream was taken..A heartbreak cupid.. Where did you find it?"
- "In the confines of our sea.."
- "..You can leave, Squid Kid." — His protégé nods, leaving there, the pink-haired monarch looks at the phone... a heartbreak cupid... You haven't had a partner in eons... and the feelings you can gather can be useful...
Dream had stayed on the beach all night, when he woke up, he found someone offering him his hand. A handsome, handsome and strong man with white skin and pink hair with completely red eyes, from the pupils to the sclera. His clothes looked like shadows. Dream hesitates a little to accept the hand, but he ends up doing so, thanking him for the gesture.
— "Uhnm..Hi..I'm Dream.."
— "Hi, I'm Technoblade.."
To be continue.
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bracket F Matchups
Round 1
This is the Thanks I Get? (Wish) vs Heaven on Their Minds (Jesus Christ Superstar)
The Rains of Castamere (Game of Thrones) vs I'm the Bad Guy (Wander Over Yonder)
Cell Block Tango (Chicago) vs One Winged Angel (Final Fantasy VII)
Dark Riders (Star Stable Online) vs Wicked Always Wins (Once Upon a Time)
Pieces of You/Hologram Professor song (Puppet History) vs Necrostar (The Vice Quadrant by Steam Powered Giraffe)
I'm Ready (Death Note: The Musical) vs Bloody Party/Welcome to Whole Cake Island (One Piece)
The Smell of Rebellion (Matilda) vs Love is For Peasants (Barbie as the Island Princess)
A Freak Like Me Needs Company (Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark) vs The Only Thing I Know For Real (Metal Gear Rising Revengeance)
I'm Alive (Next to Normal) vs Someone Gets Hurt (Mean Girls the musical)
Penny battle theme (Pokemon Scarlet and Violet) vs I Wanna Be Like You (The Jungle Book)
All the Convoluted Reasons We Pretend to Be Divorced (Phineas and Ferb) vs We Both Reached For the Gun (Chicago)
Dressed to Oppress (Play It By Ear - The Muck of Merkmere) vs The Last Day of Summer (The Lightning Thief)
Marry the Mole (Thumbelina) vs Odin (The Bifrost Incident by The Mechanisms)
The Music of the Night (The Phantom of the Opera) vs What's Up Duloc? (Shrek the musical)
Candy Store (Heathers) vs Mother Knows Best (Tangled)
This Jesus Must Die (Jesus Christ Superstar) vs Prowler's theme (Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse)
Round 2
Heaven on Their Minds (Jesus Christ Superstar) vs I'm the Bad Guy (Wander Over Yonder)
Cell Block Tango (Chicago) vs Wicked Always Wins (Once Upon a Time)
Pieces of You/Hologram Professor song (Puppet History) vs Bloody Party/Welcome to Cake Island (One Piece)
The Smell of Rebellion (Matilda) vs The Only Things I Know For Real (Metal Gear Rising Revengeance)
Someone Gets Hurt (Mean Girls the musical) vs I Wanna Be Like You (The Jungle Book)
We Both Reached for the Gun (Chicago) vs The Last Day of Summer (The Lightning Thief)
Odin (The Bifrost Incident by The Mechanisms) vs The Music of the Night (The Phantom of the Opera)
Mother Knows Best (Tangled) vs Prowler's theme (Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse)
Round 3
I'm the Bad Guy (Wander Over Yonder) vs Cell Block Tango (Chicago)
Pieces of You/Hologram Professor song (Puppet History) vs The Smell of Rebellion (Matilda)
I Wanna Be Like You (The Jungle Book) vs We Both Reached for the Gun (Chicago)
The Music of the Night (The Phantom of the Opera) vs Mother Knows Best (Tangled)
Round 4 (Bracket Semifinals)
Cell Block Tango (Chicago) vs The Smell of Rebellion (Matilda)
We Both Reached for the Gun (Chicago) vs Mother Knows Best (Tangled)
Round 5 (Bracket Finals)
Cell Block Tango (Chicago) vs Mother Knows Best (Tangled)
Winner: Cell Block Tango (Chicago)!
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
How would Clef,Bright,Glass and Gears would react if the child!reader is just immune to anomalous effects or reality bending, heck let's even go with the amnestics. But also somehow able to make sentient scps somehow tolerate or get along with them to not kill them? Reader is a little shit and uses it to fuck with everyone or give people heart attacks and also has no sense of danger.
LMAO here's your request !
Also very sorry for the time you've haf to wait for this !! I've just had writers block while I've been preparing for art fight lolol
(As always Bright/Shaw replaced by Ambrose)
••Ambrose••
-Alright so Ambrose was assigned to you out of no where, she had been working with 049 at the time (more like slacking off though) when they got a new file put on their desk.
- 'SCP [chosen number], this SCP has the ability to remain immune towards many different SCP effects, the child also seems to be able to bend reality'
-at first Ambrose thought it was a mistake cause like?? Why would they put her on a team to work with some reality bending child? No one thought they'd try to make the kid turn the walls into candy? Or 343 forbid if Ambrose asked the kid to make another santa so there'd be twice as many presents.
-Hell the first day he went to work with the group she could feel the eyes of everyone on them.
-Eventually the group shrunk though, less and less people on the team till eventually it was just Ambrose. And for once Ambrose took their job seriously, he didn't know why really but she just enjoyed spending time with you and wanted to continue to do so
-you reminded him of TJ by a lot, maybe it was her missing TJ or maybe it was them liking how you looked up to him. After all you two always did pranks together and somehow always got away with it, or well at least you did. Somehow the 05 would find out Ambrose was at least involved.
-she laughs whenever you mess with someone, and you can't ever really spook Ambrose. Very rare occasions though you startle them and she has a good laugh afterwards
-and of course whenever he has their crazy ideas (cough cough making an entire super hero team, fight club etc) you're always involved since you never play fair.
-You and Ambrose get along fan-fucking-tastically as Ambrose would put it, hell pretty sure it she could they'd adopt you already.
••Clef••
-So Clef, oh boy.
-Clef had (similar to Ambrose) been assigned to you out of no where. Coming back with a bloody ukulele after beating the [REDACTED INFORMATION] he found a file on his desk with your number on it.
-he had already heard of you and wasn't exactly over the moon to be dealing with another reality bender, in fact he already had a distaste for you.
-that's right sadly Mr ukulele doesn't like you and probably never will. He hates 239 and he hates you to.
-A week into him becoming your lead researcher and he already went to the 05 asking for your termination or to find someway to terminate you.
-Which of fucking course they denied every time he asked.
-He gets annoyed by you easily especially with you being the little shit that you are, he also deep down fears you, fears what you could do, so sadly you two never get along.
••Glass••
-Dr Glass had been assigned to you out of no where, he was a little shocked he had been assigned to an SCP that had feelings, a mind, etc. The foundation had after all tore him a new one for getting attached to the last sentient SCP he was assigned to.
-And just like the other sentient SCPs he had been assigned to in the past, he grew attached and felt awful for you. You were just a child who didn't ask to he what you were, you were just a child who should be going to school making friends growing up with parents. But instead you're stuck in a containment cell never able to see the light and watching strangers poke and prod at your abilities.
-He always snuck in stuff for you that he thought you'd like, chocolate, little toys, and some crayons with paper. He'd always get reprimanded by the others but he didn't seem to care, in his head he was doing a good thing.
-He didn't mind you being a little shit, he felt bad and thought it was your way of expressing yourself. Expressing the pain you were probably going through. You were probably scared and knew this behavior as the only way to show it.
-He always tried to stand up for you, every mistake you made, every time you escaped containment. But the 05 eventually began to listen less and less until finally you had a new lead researcher and Dr. Glass was once again not trusted around sentient scps.
••Gears••
-Finally Gears. Not much to say with him, He's a numb old man with 0 emotions towards really anything.
-Anything you do whether big or small he just kinda blinks at, if you were to take his clipboard and break it he wouldn't even bat an eye. If you were to hug him not even a small smile would crack.
-He does his job, he doesn't form an attachment or anything to you. He treats you like every other SCP, a job to be done. A task to be checked off.
-He does speak highly about your abilities to being immune to a majority of other SCPs and even suggested some tests to be done on you.
-He's not afraid of your destructive behavior either, if you start being a little shit he just calls the MTF and lets them deal with you.
-no relationship formed between y'all, He's completely neutral with you.
Hope you enjoyed! And sorry for the late response to this!!
Have a lovely day!
#scp#scp foundation#scp fandom#scp fanfiction#scp x reader#dr bright#scp dr bright#scp dr ambrose x reader#scp dr ambrose#scp dr clef#scp dr glass#scp dr gears#scp dr clef x reader#scp dr glass x reader#scp dr gears x reader
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
Lipschitz!
#m&ms#chicago#cell block tango#musicals#crossover#sorrynotsorry#artist#cursed#he had it comin#chicago the musical#cell block candy#jellymellydraws#parody#satire#cursed art
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Happiness. Simple as a glass of chocolate or tortuous as the heart. Bitter. Sweet. Alive.” —Joanne Harris
Introduction 🍫
Felix Sachishi(幸飴フェリックス) also known as Theobroma is a pastry chef and third member of Kitakyushu Division’s VIVA⭐️RIUM. An ex-convict, he has now turned a new leaf and runs the bakery Hexenhaus in the division.
…one thing that still sticks to him from the past had something to do with a certain Mad Hatter and that’s exactly why he is in this tournament.
Link to neka used
Appearance
Felix is a man in his mid-30s (he looks a bit older than what’s in the neka) of a fair complexion, just like Kokoro he has an effeminate look to him which still surprises himself. He has orange colored eyes and has wavy, caramel brown hair fading to yellow reaching his shoulders. His body is heavily scarred from his time in prison but as his clothes cover a lot of them only the two scars by the left side of his face can be seen. His ears are pierced on the lobes with a teardrop-shaped earring matching the color of his eyes.
In his bakery, he is usually seen in a black dress shirt with an orange ribbon, brown pants and short black boots. He is always wearing a frilly white apron on top of that. On his head is a black doll hat with a an orange ribbon wrapped around it and a fly brooch on the knot of the ribbon.
Outside work the apron is replaced by a white vest with a coattail.
Name Meaning
Felix - Based from the Latin word felix meaning happy/lucky
Sachi(幸) - happiness, fortune
Shi (飴) - candy
Nicknames and Aliases
Theobroma - MC Name
Uncle - Kokoro
30 Year Old Femboy - John
Witch - Kohaku
Biographical Info
Gender - Male
Age - 37
Birthday - September 13
Star Sign - Virgo
Ethnicity - Swiss-Japanese
Hair Colour - Caramel brown fading to yellow
Eye Colour - Orange
Height - 5’11”
Markings - Scars everywhere, notably one on his left eye and one on the left side of his chin
Piercings - Lobe
Family -
Mother
Father
Ex-fiancé
Voice Claim: Toshiyuki Toyonaga
Fun Facts
Occupation - Pastry Chef
Division - Kitakyushu
Team - VIVA⭐️RIUM
Position - Third Member
Favourite Food - Caramel-filled chocolate
Least Favourite Food - Gruel
Likes - Chocolate, taking care of his teammates(sometimes), seeing people like his food
Dislikes - Fusao Ise, taking care of his teammates(sometimes), people mentioning is prison days, Kokoro’s social media dependency, prison food
Image Color - Milk Chocolate (#7F4E1E)
Hypnosis Microphone
Felix’s Hypnosis Microphone takes the form of a crooked broom, the bristles acting as the stand. It is decorated with various sweets around the handle.
Felix’s speakers take the form of a panopticon building made out of sweets, the building is cut in half to reveal 4 rows of 4 cells each and a guard tower. Some of the cells contain candy people reaching out to the bars or holding speakers and some cells contain a speaker resembling an eyeball. The guard tower’s topmost windows also contain the same kind of speakers as the cell blocks.
Felix’s rap ability: Hex, makes him “cast” a random (negative) status effect on his target.
Felix’s raps contrast his teammates, being very whimsical. He often raps about fairy tales with witches involved, mainly Hänsel and Gretel with emphasis on the house of the witch which as many know— is made of sweets. He sometimes mentions his time in prison and how instead of being in a cell of a panopticon, it’s now his turn to be in the guard’s watchtower and that he can’t be stopped anytime soon.
Personality
People are intimidated by him due to his background as an ex-convict but if you put that aside, he is a very bubbly and welcoming person. Even around people he clearly dislikes, Felix keeps his cool around them. To the younger customers in his shop and participants in the DRB he usually takes the role of a guardian figure to them.
That isn’t to say that Felix doesn’t have another side to him as days spent in the prison did do a number on him after all. He is genuinely irritated by his two teammates and considers them too spoilt to take on the realities of the world. He easily forms grudges against people he doesn’t like and sometimes these grudges make him lose focus on the bigger picture of whatever situation he is in.
Background
<???>
Trivia
His birthday is on World Chocolate Day and Milton Hershey’s birthday
Okay maybe take that with a grain of salt idk when is the real chocolate day I got two different days (July 7 and September 13)
His MC Name is taken from the genus where cocoa beans(Theobroma Cacao) came from
He is the main person watching over the team’s terrarium and it’s currently occupied by a couple snails and isopods, he likes to feed them scraps from his bakery
Rumor has it that his case involved drugs
His fiancée called off the engagement by the time his arrest came
Aside from Japanese and English, he is fluent in both Swiss German and regular German
#hypmic oc#hypmic#hypnosis mic#hypnosis mic oc#kitaskyushu division#VIVA⭐️RIUM#felix sachishi#character bio#30 year old trap let’s go#crap I think I should finish the guild post frfr
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Torsten Slama, Friesenhaus mit Reetdach und Newton-Prisma, 2011,
This country home in the Frisian style offers shelter for progressive democrats of the protestant northern variety (deep sunk eyes, long nose, pallor of skin) with a taste for the traditional. The pattern designer living in this house enjoys her Bünting tea with rock candy and cream.
The house features a conventional Space Crystal accompanied by a free-moving prism made of a special ultra-clear aluminium compound, commemorating Newton's discovery of the fraction of light and his victory over Germany's Goethe with his idealistic notions about the distribution and nature of colours. The house itself is made of hardened plastic foam blocks in the style of bricks and framework. It is lightweight yet offers superb thermal insulation.
The two trees on the left are of a very rare succulent variety first described by the eminent space plant historian Rick Skrebus: Arborum Astrolobum Uitewaal-Darling.
The crystals in the foreground are of the urobilin-coloured variety. Urobilins are the breakdown products of the bile pigment bilirubin. Bilirubin is itself a breakdown product of the heme part of hemoglobin from worn-out red blood cells. Alchemists believed them to be a special transmutation of gold.
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
"you can put down the pitchforks" i am raising them higher actually. why does quackity have a room in the manipulative grooming racist's house.
Hey did you know that Brasil is actually well-known for cloning? It's kind of funny because we have a few things that we're really good at but people don't really know. I think Brasil is the best place to get an organ transplant, or at least it was when I learned about it
Also even with some of it's flaws, our voting system is one of the best in the world, I mean do you remember the hell that was on the last US election? Also I really like the laws around the voting day and how it works and I think they're actually really smart. It's kind of sad that there's still some bad and unlawful practices even with them in place
《 Anyhow, first of all, check your sources. Dream didn't groom anyone, the girl who accused him disproved her own accusations with her own posts. Second of all, he has a room because he's best friends with Dream and Sapnap and George. He's one of their closest friends, enough that they don't just want to have a extra room where he can stay in their house, they want him to have a room that is his
Also im answering like this because im a huge pussy and i dont like conflict
And this is a trap so now you need to read about cloning》
Do you know how cloning works? It's actually really cool. So when you're forming you're made of these special cells right? Now I don't know their name because I'm not a native English speaker, but these cells can turn into different cells and thats how a living being forms. But when you're older you still have some of those cells, so you can take those cells and use them to create a copy of the being you took them from by injecting them into (the egg thing? I forgot the name for it) and then injecting that into someone/something that can host that being
(Human cloning is illegal in all countries, if you're worried about that) but the big problem is that those cells that were used to create the new being are old, and on a cell level, that thing is as old as the original
That means that the new being can have diseases and complications that only older things of that species can have. The first clone actually died because of that! You know that sheep that got cloned? Yeah the clone died young of a illness only old sheep could have
In a human that could mean that if you made a clone of yourself in your 50s for example, when that clone was 20 they could have dementia because their cells are 70 years old.
But in plants its very different. For example, all bananas are clones, because bananas do not have seeds (no the black thing inside of a banana are not seeds). Its actually a huge issue because if a banana tree (idk the english name for it) has an illness, like a fungus, it can spread very very fast trough all of the farm because it's just the same tree over and over and it could spread to even other farms and cause a massive extinction
There a type of banana that actually disappeared because of that and it's the banana we used to make banana flavoring in candy, so when you eat a banana flavored candy you're tasting an extinct banana
Also that does mean that all fruits that you can buy with no seeds, grapes, watermelon, whatever, are made with cloning
To clone a tree you just need to cut a branch off and plant it again (there are specific ways to do that with some plants but you can probably find a video on yt explaining how to cut the plant you want)
There's this really cool thing where you can reattach a branch (of for example, a lemon tree) to another tree (for example, a orange tree) with some moss and eventually it will become part of the tree and you'll have a orange tree with one branch that gives lemons
《 Anyway, please don't ever be mean to me I will cry and if anyone tries to make me feel bad for being weak I will trauma dump all over you
Go enjoy your silly block men 》
#dream smp#quackity#dreamwastaken#dream situation#qsmp#dsmp#the dog barks#also do you want to hear my theory of why theres so many hero aus in the fandom?#cloning#fun facts#drama#dream drama#:]#also also do you want to know about my fairy au?#I have 2 and i love them lots#no you cannot find them on this blog prior to this#i would also love to expand of the laws around voting day in brasil and the unlawful practices that try to get around them#yes im adding more and more tags every time you look#im usually only like this when im in caretaker mode so this feels kinda crazy to me#dreamblr#quackblr#the voices
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dirty Angel
“Oh, Mikey honey, you really are a sap!” laughed Candy Nolan, notorious liquor store thief and former leader of all female gang the Dirty Angels, as she pointed his own gun at aghast prison officer Mike Driscoll. “Do you really think I would ever kiss a loser like you? Now, keys, quick!” Mike cursed himself as an idiot. How often had the hookers and woman coke heads come onto him as he locked them up, hoping for favours or even cash if they flashed him their boobs? Mike was wise to such female chicanery, but Candy had seemed different- intelligent, ironic and super sexy and she genuinely seemed to like him. Now here in solitary, he felt they could at last get to know each other better during his night shift. However, it had all been a scam, a cheap lousy trick. Infuriated, Mike looked down the barrel of his gun and then into the cold brown eyes of the female criminal. He had been well and truly trapped, he realised, with no other guards on this block and no other inmates - it was called solitary for a reason. Candy allowed herself a slight smile as she seized the cell door keys from the hapless man. “Good boy.” she told him mockingly. “Now turn around and put your arms through the bars toward me.” Mike sighed heavily . “Witch!” he spat out bitterly as he turned round.
Candy had prepared well for this night. She reached for her bunk on which were several strips of material she had torn from her uniform dress. Once Mike’s arms were safely through the cell bars, the woman put the gun down and then pulled Mike’s wrists towards her before swiftly and expertly tying them tightly together. “You’ll never get away with this, you lying tramp!” the anguished officer told the sardonically smiling woman while she bound him. “No?” replied Candy with a smug chuckle. “Just watch me, lover!” Then she cleave gagged Mike with another strip of her torn dress and then opened the cell dooor while the officer looked on in helpless impotence. Once out of the cell, Candy stood in front of the tied and gagged Mike, and ran her hands down her dress, smoothing it over her curvaceous figure. “You like the shorter style, Mike?” she taunted her captive, the ripped uniform revealing her nyloned legs way above her knee. “I figure this look will get me a ride across the state line, along with your gun of course!” She laughed, leaving the bound man fuming at his own uselessness, knowing his keys would let Candy out of every door in the block. “See you in another life, sweetheart.” was Candy’s parting shot.
My interpretation of the story behind the cover to Cell Cutie, Larry Kent Detective #96 (1961).
10 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
