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junqkook · 6 years

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— EVERY BREATH YOU TAKE; 2 (m.)

— notes; this fic is not condoning abusive/unhealthy relationships in any way. please do not read if you are triggered by anything relating to stalkers/stalking. this is a repost from my old account.

pairing; jungkook/reader genre; stalker au, thriller, smut, angst words; 11,698 rating; explicit

— synopsis; you and jungkook are getting closer as the days go by, but the chill that goes through you every time you’re alone has you on edge; between everyone around you, who can you really trust?

contents; obsessive, toxic behavior, violence, gore. possessiveness, choking, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play, dirty talk, rough sex, biting, marking, multiple orgasms, jealousy, dom!jungkook.

— chapters; one. two. three.

“He still hasn’t asked me out!” you pouted to Hoseok, picking at your food. Hoseok groaned, smacking his lips together as he attempted to swallow down the food stuffed in his mouth.

“Will you stop whining about that?” he yelled around the food. He continued eating, rolling his eyes as you sighed for the millionth time.

“I can’t help it!” you replied, taking a bite of your food and swallowing blandly. “He texts me all the time and we even went out for food, but—”

Hoseok shot you a dirty look as he took a swig of his water. “Have you thought maybe he doesn’t want to date you?”

You tried to ignore the sting of his words, sharp little jabs into your chest. Your best friend was always completely honest with you, as per request; when you two became friends at a much younger age, you’d promised to never be fake with each other. “Shut up,” you replied quietly. “Who wouldn’t want to date me?”

Hoseok laughed and shoved your leg with his. “Yeah, you’re right; you’re a total catch.”

“See?” you huffed. “Even you’re in love with me!”

“We’d be the power couple of the century,” Hoseok agreed. “Too bad you don’t tickle my pickle.”

You scrunched your nose. “I don’t need to be thinking about your pickle, thanks.”

Hoseok hummed and shrugged. You sighed again and checked your phone, bottom lip sticking out into a pout as you saw the many messages Jungkook had sent already.

[from jungkook 11:07am] — soooo bored — what are u doin? [from jungkook 11:09am] — i miss u — still remember how good u taste

You shut your phone off again, squeezing your legs together at the insinuation of the text. You turned your eyes to Hoseok again, who reached over for the remote to turn the TV on to something else.

“… come back with the still unidentified suspect on the loose—”

Hoseok flipped the channel to a drama that had just started playing recently. You snorted and shoved at his shoulder, leaning back and laying down on his couch. “You’re such a romantic,” you whined. “Maybe I wanted to watch the news!”

Hoseok only raised an eyebrow. “Sorry, but my drama is more important than some news about some guy that got beat up in Daegu.” You simply hummed in response, the two of you lapsing into a comfortable silence as he watched his drama and you scrolled through your messages.

[to jungkook 1:05pm] — what u up to?

[from jungkook 1:05pm] — hey — just doing hw :/ — what about u?

[to jungkook 1:07pm] — just chillin

[from jungkook 1:07pm] — by yourself? — i can come help u pass the time ;)

You chuckled under your breath and peeked at Hoseok, who didn’t even bat an eyelash your way; his eyes were glued to the screen of his TV.

[to jungkook 1:08pm] — nah its fine — i’m with hoseok

Jungkook’s reply didn’t immediately come, which was odd since it usually did. When your phone finally buzzed with the response you’d been waiting for, Hoseok’s doorbell rang and he started smacking your thigh.

“Ow!” you hissed, snatching your legs toward yourself and away from his palm.

“Can you go get the door?” he asked, still not looking at you.

You rolled your eyes and got up off the couch with a loud sigh to indicate your displeasure with his request. He paid you no mind as you made your way to the front door of his apartment, swinging open the door without much thought. Your eyes widened at the person stood on the other side, his own eyes wide and focused on you.

“Uh.” you said, forcing a smile onto your face as you stepped to the side and allowed him inside. “I didn’t know you were coming over—”

“Hope didn’t mention you were here,” Yoongi replied gruffly, still glancing at your face. You ignored the flare of jealousy that lit up inside you at the nickname he used for your best friend. You made an uninterested noise from your throat and the two of you just stood awkwardly together. When you glanced at his face, his eyes were already trained on you and he shifted his gaze away and cleared his throat.

“Who was it?” Hoseok shouted from the couch.

“It’s—it’s me!” Yoongi replied, turning away from you and walking further into the apartment. You let out a long sigh and squeezed your eyes shut. You barely knew the guy, but his presence had you shaken from merely a minute of standing in the same small hall leading into the rest of your friend’s apartment.

You followed after a few seconds, finding Yoongi seated beside Hoseok. You frowned visibly and gathered up your bag and things, packing your barely eaten lunch and shoving it into your bag.

“Hey, I’m going to go home,” you informed Hoseok.

He furrowed his brows and looked up at you, matching your frown with his own. “What? Why, it’s not even two o’clock yet—”

“I have some stuff to do and I have to pick up some things for my roommate,” you lied. Hoseok pursed his lips and didn’t reply, so you straightened up and turned to make your way back to the door. You heard a scoff from behind and you bristled as you stomped over to the front door, needing all of your strength to keep you from turning and confronting your best friend’s other friend.

Once you were out of the apartment, you finally felt like you could breathe. You pulled your phone out as you walked to find numerous messages from Jungkook and you smiled as you started to type out a response, apologizing for the delay.

You’d gotten overly hostile with Yoongi in the past few days, your mood only dampened by the fact that you’d been working with Namjoon only for your past few shifts. You had exams coming up in your classes and every time you wanted to just spend some down time with Hoseok, Yoongi always showed up just in time to steal his attention away from you. You knew at this point the composer was well aware of your dislike for him, and you assumed he held you in the same regard by the looks he threw your way and the way his presence seemed to stifle your breathing.

But, to be honest, you really couldn’t care any less so long as he stayed away from you.

You stretched as you walked into the music store for your shift, excited that you’d be working with Seokjin this time. You’d been texting Jungkook on and off, slightly tired from how many texts he sent; he sure was talkative through texts for someone so quiet in real life.

Namjoon was waiting near the back door and you visibly slumped as you gave him a strained smile. “Hey,” he greeted, face impassive.

“Hi,” you replied blankly.

You tried to walk past him, but he grabbed at your elbow and you jerked back, surprised; you don’t think you’d ever touched Namjoon in the entirety of your employment here. When you looked up at him, his hand still wrapped around your arm, his eyes were harsh.

“Your boyfriend’s not allowed here anymore,” he muttered.

You furrowed your brows. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Whatever, your friend then. He’s not welcome here anymore.”

Anger bubbled in your stomach, twisting your organs around. “And why is that?” you asked, trying your hardest not to scowl.

Namjoon’s lips turned down into a frown. “He just isn’t. You’re always too distracted when he’s around. You’re at work when you’re here, you aren’t just playing around.”

“I am not!” you yelled petulantly, yanking your arm from his hold. “You can tell him that yourself! You can’t just ban a customer from coming into our store because you’re jealous—”

“Jealous?!” Namjoon scoffed, pulling his hand away from you as if you’d scalded his palm. “Get over yourself,” he growled, leaning in closer. Your heart rate sped up and you attempted to take a step back. “Your boyfriend is just a fucking psycho—”

“____!” a voice called out from behind.

You and Namjoon both turned to see Jungkook, wearing his usual hoodie but with the hood itself down around his shoulders. He was sporting a baseball cap instead, eyes trained on the close proximity between you and your coworker.

“J-Jungkook, hey,” you breathed, hands shaking.

He took a few steps forward, reaching the two of you in seconds. He brought a hand out to touch your arm, but Namjoon grabbed you and yanked you back, his palm warm and a touch of cold metal kissed your skin by one of his fingers. Your eyes were wide as you stared up at the man, half of his body in front of you. Jungkook’s eyes were ablaze as he looked at Namjoon’s fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“I remember you said you were working today and I wanted to stop by to say hi,” Jungkook said, gaze flickering between you and Namjoon. You wiggled your hand away from your coworker and paused for a split second; had you told him you were working today?

“Oh, that’s fine, I’m working unti—”

“You need to leave,” Namjoon said quietly.

“Excuse me?” Jungkook replied, tone lowering. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs as you watched the two of them in this weird pissing match. Their tones frightened you, making your hair stand on end and your fingers started to tremble.

“You heard me,” your manager told him, still half covering your body from Jungkook’s view.

You were about to intervene, grabbing at Namjoon’s arm, and Jungkook’s expression softened, eyes focusing on you. You felt a spike of something—fear?—before he showed you the same bunny smile he always did and you relaxed, fingers still grazing Namjoon’s skin. If you had peeked down at his hands, you would have seen the way they clenched into fists so tightly that his knuckles had turned white with fury.

“I’ll see you later then,” he chirped. You nodded, feeling nervous and sweat accumulating at the nape of your neck as you waved and he turned away, walking back up to the front of the store before leaving with the tell-tale ding of the door.

“What the hell was that about?” you hissed to Namjoon, who didn’t even look your way before he walked back to the front, snatching his arm away from you as quickly as you had yanked yours back. You scoffed when he ignored your question and walked into the back room, halting in your steps when you saw Seokjin putting his name tag in place.

“Jin!” you called, smiling widely. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Seokjin faced you quickly, giving you a quick smile in return. As you walked over to him and started to place your own things into an empty locker, he leaned against the small table and pursed his lips, silence engulfing the two of you for a few seconds.

“Is Jungkook coming?”

The question hung in the air awkwardly and you couldn’t help but let a frown tug the corners of your lips down. Why were both of your coworkers bringing him up?

“Why?” you asked, turning to give him an odd look as you pinned the name tag to your shirt. You made to move past him but he stopped you easily with a hand on your arm. His face looked regretful, lips pulled down and eyes downcast.

“You shouldn’t see him.”

You sighed. “I’m not seeing him, though.”

He looked up and gave you a hard look, fingers tightening around your skin. You winced. “I’m serious, ____. Stay away from that guy.”

“You’re hurting me,” you mumbled, attempting to wiggle your arm out of his hold. “What’s the big deal about him, anyway?”

Seokjin let go of your arm and stood to his full height, sighing loudly and shoving his hands in his pockets. “That day, when he came into the back after me—”

You chuckled, disbelieving that this was what everything was about. “Really? You and Namjoon are just pissy because he came into the employee only back room? I told him he could go back to ask you for that CD! It’s fine, he’s a nice guy.”

“No, listen to me—”

Namjoon’s voice cut him off, the door banging open and making the two of you flinch. “Hey! Your shifts have started, get to the front right now.”

“Coming!” You left Seokjin to groan his frustration alone in the back as you slipped past Namjoon to go to the register at the front. Namjoon was all set to leave, giving you a blank stare as you went to sit behind the cash register and counter. The two of you were silent, and then he turned to leave, scoffing under his breath as he shoved the door open and you rolled your eyes, not waiting to see his back disappear to the parking lot.

Your shift was uneventful, like it usually was, and only one customer had come in. The girl had been looking for a CD, but didn’t interact with you at all and you only spoke to her when she was checking out. After she left, you checked your phone and were surprised to see no messages from anyone, not even Hoseok.

Seokjin hadn’t left the back room and you were surprised since he usually came out to check up on you or to just goof off. The rest of the shift passed agonizingly slowly, with no other customers, no messages, and no Seokjin to brighten it up. You could feel the irritation sizzling under your skin when you finally went to the back to grab your stuff, seeing him stretching as he shut his locker.

“You can go first,” you said gruffly, glaring at his head. He faced you and your eyes darted away from him. He sighed from beside you and waited until you had gathered all of your stuff, shoving the name tag into your bag and slinging it over your shoulders. When you turned and saw him still standing, his own backpack hanging from his broad shoulders, you rolled your eyes. “I said you can go first.”

“Like hell I’m letting you go home alone,” he muttered darkly.

You didn’t address his comment until the two of you were outside of the music store and you had locked the door, handing him the keys silently. He walked along with you down the sidewalk and you finally decided to break the tension that had started festering between the two of you.

“What did you mean when you said that?” you asked, fingers trembling. Your eyes darted around nervously and you felt a chill go down your spine. You shrugged it off and waited for Seokjin to answer you.

“Your emo band liking boyfriend threatened me,” he finally said.

You furrowed your brows. “What? Wait—first of all, he’s not my boyfriend. Second of all, what the hell do you mean threatened you?”

“When he came to the back room!” Seokjin huffed, crossing his arms as the two of you stopped at the four-stop. This was where you usually parted, his place straight ahead and yours about ten minutes down the right side of the road.

“What happened?” you questioned. “He said he was going to look for a CD!”

“Listen, ____, I don’t know what the fuck he told you,” he started, eyes burning through you. The unsettled feeling remained, swirling under your skin like a snake slithering through your veins and leaving venom wherever it touched. “He didn’t come looking for a fucking CD. He came into the back room and went nuts—like some kind of psycho—and started telling me to stay away from you! The guy’s fucking crazy, ____, he hit the wall next to my head and started shoving the boxes over.”

“Why the fuck would he do that?” you asked shakily, fingers trembling.

“I don’t know!” Seokjin shouted, making you flinch. His features immediately softened and he gently gripped your shoulders in his hands. “Hey, hey—I’m sorry for yelling at you, I’m just—I’m just worried about you, okay?”

“Did you tell Namjoon?” you asked, voice barely coming out as you stared at Seokjin’s face blankly.

“What?” His brows furrowed and his grip tightened on your shoulders.

“Did you tell Namjoon?” you repeated, shrugging his hands off your body.

“Why does that—yes, I told him about it, why does that even matter—”

“Of course it matters!” you screamed, balling your hands into fists. “If he’s so fucking crazy then why the hell wouldn’t you tell me?” You were breathing heavily, skin crawling as Seokjin watched you silently, eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open in shock. “It’s been over a week since that would have happened, Seokjin! Why wouldn’t you tell me if you’re so worried about me?”

“I—I didn’t—” he sputtered, cheeks tinting pink and hand going up to scratch at his cheek.

“You didn’t what?” you hissed, seething. “You have my number, and you could’ve told me at work if you hadn’t switched shifts with Namjoon. So what other excuse do you have, huh?” Silence fell around the two of you, only the streetlights illuminating Seokjin’s face. He was gnawing on his bottom lip, eyes unable to stay focused on you. “Nothing?” you scoffed.

“____, please, it’s—it’s not like that!”

“Not like what?” you shot back, crossing your own arms across your chest. “Not like you could have just made this whole thing up and put Namjoon up to it?” At his baffled look, you continued. “How the hell am I supposed to trust you two? You’re already chummy with him, don’t think I don’t know that. And if either of you were truly worried about my safety while I was with Jungkook, one of you would have told me by now! Not—not waited over a whole week!”

Seokjin stayed silent, digging the toe of his shoe into the sidewalk.

You scoffed again. “If you didn’t like Jungkook, you could have just told me. It’s not like we’re dating, anyway.”

Seokjin sighed. “How else do you explain his hand, then?”

Your gaze silenced him and you could see the nerves starting to take hold of him under your gaze. They were radiating off of him, but instead of feeling empowered, the hairs on the back of your neck stuck up and goosebumps raised on your flesh as your mouth dried. “He already told me he hurt his hand when he was with his frat buddy, Taehyung, or something like that.”

“Taehyung?” Seokjin asked, brows furrowing again.

“Yeah, whatever,” you muttered. “I’ll see you at work, Seokjin.”

“At least let me walk you home—”

You turned away from him, shaking your head. “No, I’ll be just fine on my own.” He yelled out your name in exasperation as you started to walk toward your apartment, your stomach churning uncomfortably. “I’ll see you at work!” you called back, finality in your tone.

You didn’t hear his footsteps behind you and right before you turned the corner at the end, you turned back to look and didn’t see anyone. Sighing, you told yourself to relax, sure that Seokjin had just gone his own way home. Your body refused to listen to your mind, heart still thudding harshly against your ribs and hands still trembling slightly. Your phone was shoved somewhere deep into your bag, from where you’d angrily shoved it at the end of your shift along with your name tag. Hoseok hadn’t been waiting for you, which was becoming startlingly normal, so you now had to trudge back to your apartment alone in the dark.

Your heart rate spiked again as you passed the windows of the closed up shops on the street, the alleyways especially dark and daunting with the lack of visibility. You heard a noise somewhere behind you and you whipped around, stomach churning and throat clogging up.

Nothing.

You let out a shaky breath, knees wobbling. There wasn’t anything behind you and you swallowed past the lump in your throat roughly. Sweat broke out on your forehead and you tried to shove the thoughts of someone watching you into the back of your mind, or better yet out of your mind completely. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you breathed in deeply and your eyes darted around the deserted streets. A few cars passed by as you walked, but nothing was out of the ordinary and you kept repeating that as you neared your apartment.

There’s no one there, you told yourself. Don’t be ridiculous. The person from last time wasn’t following you. The thoughts weren’t completely helpful, as your heart continued to attempt to lodge itself into your esophagus and your hands were clenched so tightly into the fabric of your shirt that your knuckles were turning white and your fingers were starting to tingle with pain.

You heard another sound, similar to the one before, but you were too scared to look behind you. Your steps quickened and you got to the stoplight across from your apartment complex, your feet tapping incessantly against the pavement. Your breathing was coming faster and heavier, and you turned your head to face the way you’d come from, not seeing anyone or anything remotely suspicious.

“Stop being paranoid,” you told yourself quietly. You brought your hand up to your hair and scratched your ear nervously, letting out a shaky breath of relief as the crosswalk light lit up and you had to stop yourself from sprinting across the street. You continued feeling odd, your arms shaking as you hugged yourself tighter, eyes darting to your surroundings more frequently and chest tightening. The goosebumps were still spread across your body and you nearly sobbed with relief when you saw the familiar sight of your apartment complex, pulling your keys out of your bag quickly and shakily unlocked the door, the back of your neck tingling and more sweat than ever before dripping down your neck.

The glass door opened and you made your way in quickly, attempting to shove the door shut behind you. It caught on something and you looked back to see a hand gripping the side of it, holding it open. You screamed, the sound tearing through your throat painfully as your heart lurched down into your stomach.

“Jesus, ____!” a familiar voice called out, making the screams die down in your throat. You stood, baffled, as Hoseok appeared into your line of vision, coming inside and letting the door shut softly behind him. You stood with your mouth slack, blinking away the tears in your eyes as he rubbed at his ear and shook his head, as if to get the sound of your shout out of his mind. “You’d think you were getting murdered!”

“What the hell, Hoseok?” you sobbed, knees shaking.

He finally took a good look at you, seeing your no doubt distraught face, and he came closer with an alarmed expression. You fell into his arms, gripping his shirt in your fists. “Hey, hey, I’m here,” he comforted you softly, letting you cry into his sweater as he wrapped his arms around you. “What happened?”

His arms brought with them the sense of familiarity and you breathed in the smell of his cologne as you got your bearings. You removed your hands from his sweater and pulled back, his arms still loosely wrapped around you. Looking up at his worried face, you gave him a shaky smile, your lips still quivering and your nose runny from the tears.

“I’m okay,” you assured him, clearing your throat. “I’m alright, just—I was just getting a weird feeling and you scared me.”

“Weird feeling?” he questioned you. “What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing, Hoseok, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s clearly not nothing if you were screaming bloody murder,” he pushed, stepping closer and running his hand down the side of your face, wiping the tears from your cheek with his thumb. “Wait, did you walk home alone?”

You nodded your head, wiping at your eyes and accidentally dislodging his hand. He simply moved it up to smooth your hair, knowing exactly how to comfort you. “Yeah, Seokjin wanted to walk me home but we had a fight, so…”

“A fight? About what?”

You pursed your lips, not sure if you wanted to tell him. But he was your best friend, so you opened your mouth to tell him—but you stopped, eyes catching on something outside across the street.

“What is that?” you mumbled, squinting.

“What’s what?” Hoseok turned around, facing the glass doors and looking out trying to spot whatever you’d seen.

The something shifted and your blood felt like ice in your veins, freezing your limbs. Was that a person?

Hoseok muttered under his breath and shuffled forward to the door. There was a bright flash and then he exclaimed loudly. “What the fuck?” He bolted toward the door, shoving it open and rushing outside.

“Hoseok, wait!” you shouted, moving to follow after him.

“Stay inside!” he yelled at you, barely glancing at you. You swallowed and stayed put, watching him from the door. By the time he got across the street toward the greenery where you’d seen whatever or whoever that was, he was looking blindly. You knew because you could feel the frustration rolling off of him all the way from inside the building.

He left the greenery as it was and came back to you, huffing dejectedly. “You’re not staying here alone,” he told you immediately as you moved to let him inside. “I came back to give you your charger, but I’m not leaving you here by yourself with some creep out and about.”

You tried to fight off the anxiety that rushed through your body, locking your limbs in place. “Hoseok, it was probably nothing.” He gave you a look that you knew meant even he didn’t believe the lie you were trying to tell yourself. “I’ll be fine, everything is locked here! I’m safe.”

“Absolutely not. No way. Either you come stay at my place or I’m staying here.”

Relief flushed through your entire body, making your fingers tremble and tears well up in your eyes as you looked at Hoseok. He gave you a small smile and you licked your lips as you gestured behind you. “I’ll go get some of my stuff then.”

“Okay, I’ll be here,” he replied gently, waving you off.

And when you came back down, he was; the two of you left your apartment complex with his arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders and made your way down to his car, which was parked a few blocks away. You felt safe as he held you close to his side, the familiarity of him overwhelming you until everything else was pushed from your mind.

It was odd, staying with Hoseok. You’d never much stayed over at his place, nor he yours, so it was a very strange thing to get used to, seeing him so often now.

Plus, you saw Yoongi a lot more now too.

It had been a week since whatever happened outside of your apartment building, but Hoseok was adamant about keeping you close to him; There was some shit that went down in Daegu, he’d said. I’d just rather have you close and safe.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you did not, in fact, feel safe. Especially when you’d found out Yoongi came and went as he pleased since Hoseok was also his best friend. You would always catch his eye when you turned around, having to deal with the awkward silence as he darted his glance away from you. You were unsettled, preferring to leave the apartment and hang out with Jungkook instead when Hoseok wasn’t around.

The tension in the workplace hadn’t gotten better either, you and Seokjin remaining icy around each other and Namjoon treating you the same way he always had. Jungkook didn’t come to visit you at work anymore, resorting instead to just send you texts to make you smile throughout your shift.

Now, you were sitting in your class, bored out of your mind as you waited for the minutes to tick by so you could leave. You heard something clack against the floor and you looked down to see a pen rolling over by your feet. You grabbed it and looked up, meeting the pretty brown eyes of the boy seated two seats down from you, his bag occupying the spot between you two. His hair was blonde and he shook it out of his eyes as he gave you a sheepish smile.

You handed it to him and he mouthed a, “Sorry!” to you. You smiled back at him and shook your head, going back to your laptop to take notes. A few minutes rolled by and you blinked blankly at your screen, unsure of what was even happening in this class anymore.

“Hey,” the boy whispered, leaning closer to you. You faced him and lifted your eyebrows. “Which question did you pick for the paper?”

“Uh,” you turned back to your laptop and pulled up the paper prompts. “I’m trying to decide between two and three,” you whispered back. “They seem like the most straight forward. How about you?”

He hummed, nodding his head. “I’m thinking of doing four; I feel like it’s abstract enough that I can BS it and he’ll just assume I’m thinking outside the box.”

You stifled a giggle; he did have a point, though. “That’s a smart idea, actually,” you told him, smiling widely.

“I’m Jimin,” he introduced himself, smiling just as wide as you. You gave your own name and he nodded his head. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Jimin,” you replied. You pulled your thoughts away from Jimin and checked your buzzing phone, opening your messages underneath your tiny desk.

[from jungkook 12:32pm] — when are u done w/ class?

[from hobi 12:33pm] — i’m picking u up after class

You sighed, texting both boys back quickly.

[to jungkook 12:36pm] — i finish at 12:45

[to hobi 12:36pm] — ok i’m done at 12:45

Your phone vibrated again, but you gave Jimin your attention again as your professor began to dismiss everyone, handing back extended papers and everyone started to pack their stuff up and exit the classroom.

“Do you think he’ll let the BS slide?” Jimin murmured to you as he walked beside you down the steps toward the door. He gestured for you to go ahead and you stopped to the side of the door outside in the hall, smiling up at him as he stood in front of you.

“I don’t know, he’s a pretty tough grader,” you replied.

“Bold of you to assume my BS isn’t top notch,” the boy shot back, giggling as you shoved at his shoulder playfully.

“____!”

You turned around and met Jungkook’s eyes, who then smiled widely at you and came to stand beside you. Your eyes averted from him for a split second and you saw Hoseok also waiting for you along with Yoongi, whose lips were pursed.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you greeted, smiling and turning to look back at Jimin.

“Hey,” your classmate said, nodding with a small smile on his face.

Jungkook’s smile was a little more tense. “Hey, man.” There was an awkward pause and you glanced over at Hoseok and Yoongi, who seemed to be waiting for you. Jungkook’s hand slid up your back gently to your shoulder and he rested his arm atop your shoulders.

Jimin cleared his throat and gave you another sweet smile. “Well, I’ll see you in class. Good luck on your paper!”

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, waving as he took his leave. You looked up at Jungkook, but before either of you could speak Hoseok was stopping in front of you along with Yoongi, who was pointedly looking down at his phone.

Jungkook and Hoseok greeted each other with a quick nod of their heads and you wanted to roll your eyes at the boys. “You coming?” Hoseok asked you, not really looking at Jungkook. You snuck a glance at Yoongi, who did have his eyes on Jungkook. Jungkook’s fingers were playing with the fabric of your sleeve and it tickled your skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to shrug him off.

“Coming?” Jungkook piped up. He looked at you with wide eyes. “Aren’t we going out for dinner?”

“I have work, actually,” you lied to both boys easily. You willed yourself to maintain eye contact with both of them and tensed up your hands so they wouldn’t tremble with anxiety over getting caught in the lie. You stepped away from Jungkook, dislodging his arm from your shoulders, and you gave them all a shaky smile. “I’ll see you guys later, though.”

Hoseok stepped forward, reaching out and resting his palm on your upper arm. “You don’t want me to drive you? I can put off practice for a bit to take you there—”

You brought your hands up and waved them while shaking your head. “No! No, it’s really fine. I can go by myself.” You didn’t want to tell him that his overprotective actions were starting to grate on your nerves, wearing you down. You did want to spend more time with Jungkook, as the two of you had gotten closer in the past few weeks, but you couldn’t exactly blow off Hoseok right in front of him and his friend.

Without allowing any of them to say anything else, you waved goodbye and turned on your heel, walking briskly out of the building and heading down the long path toward the music store, which also happened to be the same way you usually took to get to your apartment as well.

The entire way to your apartment, you had an odd feeling that you couldn’t place. You checked your surroundings a few times, but there hadn’t been anything amiss, so you dismissed the weird churning in your gut and pushed forward toward your apartment building. Plus, walking around in broad daylight had comforted you, the busy streets filling your head with noise.

You let out a breath of relief when you saw your complex come up, the thought of seeing your own room building a sense of urgency in your limbs. You reached out for the handle and froze, your eyes focusing on your apartment’s mailbox a few feet just inside the door. You could see something taped to it. Your fingers twitched above the door’s handle and the fingers holding your keys trembled enough to clang the metal together and jolt you out of your thoughts. Something unpleasant twisted in your stomach and your throat felt clogged up, but you swallowed past the lump in your throat and shakily unlocked the door, opening it slowly and pulling it shut quickly behind you.

You glanced outside and saw nothing but groups of students walking down the streets and cars zipping down the streets. Your chest was tight and your muscles clenched as you neared the mailbox and picked off the large envelope that was taped to the metal, your apartment number glaring back at you loudly.

With trembling fingers you opened the top of the yellow envelope and looked inside; there were two sheets inside. You pulled them out, latching your eyes immediately on the one on top. Bile rose up in your throat and your eyes widened as you took in the picture staring back up at you, of you and Hoseok. More specifically, it was from that night when you’d come home from work and your best friend had scared the living daylights out of you. His arms were around your body and your head was buried in his chest, hands clenched around the fabric of his shirt. You snapped your head up, looking outside through the glass, but feet rooted to the ground where you stood, too afraid to step outside and look for any traces of who might have left the picture.

You quickly moved the picture to the back, looking at the other sheet that had been behind it. Your mouth dried and your heart lurched into your stomach when your eyes swept across the small note. Shoving the letter and the picture back into the envelope, you rushed to the stairs and up to your apartment, needing to curl up in your bed to feel safe again.

Don’t forget you’re mine. I don’t like when others touch what belongs to me.

You had no idea how you’d managed to fall asleep considering how unnerved you’d been, but you woke up a few hours later to the buzzing of your phone beside you on your bed. You sat up and rubbed at your eyes, squinting at the darkness outside your window. You quickly walked over to the window and shut the curtains, your mind still racing from the picture in the envelope, which you’d shoved in your dresser drawer.

You didn’t even want to look at your messages, the bright screen of your phone making your head throb. When you went out to the kitchen, you couldn’t find any of your favorite snacks and you grumbled as you saw the note from your roommate on the fridge door.

‘Out of snacks, pls get some!’

You waddled over to your bedroom again, grabbing your purse with your wallet stuffed inside, and slipped your phone into your pocket. When you reached the door you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys, locking the door behind you as you left your apartment.

You reached the glass door leading outside of the building and you shuffled in place for a few moments, doubt rising in the back of your mind; should you really leave tonight? How long had that envelope even been on your mailbox? Was whoever taped it there outside waiting for you right now?

Sighing, you made up your mind. You couldn’t just hide away forever out of fear—plus you were really hungry and you needed to get the snacks because you knew your roommate would bite your head off if you told her to buy them instead.

Opening the glass door hesitantly, you breathed in the cool night air. The streets were definitely not as busy and bustling as they had been hours prior, but you could still spot a few people out and about in groups. You pouted, wishing you were with Hoseok—he made you feel safe and he’d provide some much needed humor and entertainment as you went to get your snacks.

Your body tensed up and you crossed your arms over your chest as you turned a corner toward the convenience store. The lamps lighting your path did nothing to ease your nerves and your gut was swimming with bees, spreading the anxiety through your bloodstream. Your steps were moving faster, wanting to just reach the store already while your purse knocked against your hip.

You only had to walk for a few more minutes and you’d arrive at the store. You mumbled little pleas under your breath as the hair on your arms stood on end and you spared a quick glance behind you. There was nothing there.

The feeling didn’t go away as you hoped it would; instead, it seemed to get stronger. Your heart rate sped up and you could feel every thud reverberate through your chest. Your stomach clenched and your breaths came quicker. Your eyes were wide and darting around, peeking into the store windows to make sure no one was there. Your heart lurched up into your throat and you whipped around to look behind you, faltering in your steps.

Again, nothing.

“Stop being paranoid,” you chided yourself quietly, taking deep breaths to attempt to calm yourself down. Your body was still on edge, your fingers twitching and chest feeling like it was caving in the longer you walked. You glanced behind you one more time as you speed walked to the last corner you needed to turn and ran straight into another person.

A bloodcurdling scream tore itself out of your throat, your hands shoving at the chest and throwing your entire body backwards. Your jerking movements made your heel catch on the pavement and you stumbled, hands grabbing your arms and keeping you in place. You looked up into the person’s face, heart dancing in a frenzy within your chest as you barely managed to swallow down the scream.

“Yoongi?” you asked breathlessly, panting as he held your arms in his tight grip. You let your hands rest on his chest, fingers digging into the fabric as you both stared at each other. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he murmured, finally releasing you. He cleared his throat and you took a step back, head swimming.

“No—no, you can’t,” you said, leveling him with a glare. “I live a few minutes away! You live on the other side of campus, so again, what the hell are you doing here?”

He scowled at you and his glance darted away from you as he stayed silent for a few agonizing seconds; it felt like an eternity had passed as you waited for his answer. “Where are you going so late anyway?”

“That’s not a fucking answer, Yoongi,” you replied immediately. Your knees were wobbling and you were afraid that at any moment you were going to collapse.

“I don’t owe you an answer,” he told you gruffly.

You swallowed nervously, glancing around at the empty streets. Was he the one that you had felt watching you for the past few weeks? Your stomach was churning and your fingertips were tingling with static while your mouth dried.

“Did you take that picture of me?” you asked him quietly, voice shaky.

His brows furrowed. “Picture? What picture?”

“You know what picture!” you yelled, hating how hysterical you sounded even to your own ears. “That stupid picture taped to my mailbox! Were you the one that took it?”

“Listen, ____, I don’t know what picture you’re talking abou—”

You took a step back and away from him. “Just tell me if you took the picture!”

“No!” he shouted. “I didn’t take any stupid fucking pictures of you, okay?”

Your entire body was trembling; you wished you’d stayed home and just dealt with your roommate’s fury. “Why are you here?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes at you and sighed loudly. “I was coming to check up on you, okay?”

“Why?”

“Hoseok’s been texting you for hours,” he explained, shoving his hands into his pockets. “He got really worked up and I told him I’d come see if you were okay. I was on my way to your apartment since your music store’s closed already.”

You swallowed thickly, mind spinning. You had no idea what to say, what to believe. It sounded reasonable enough, and he had been heading from the direction the store was in.

“Where are you even going alone and panicky like this?” he asked when you didn’t respond, just stared blankly at him.

“I needed to buy some snacks,” you replied numbly.

He huffed and brought his hand up to ruffle his hair. “I’ll walk with you.”

You simply nodded your head in response, shuffling past him and heading down the road toward the convenience store. He stayed by your side, never letting himself fall behind you or walk ahead of you—you assumed because he wasn’t familiar with your neighborhood, so he wouldn’t have known where the convenience store was anyway.

When you’d reached it after two minutes of walking, Yoongi waited by the door outside as you collected your snacks and went up to the register to pay. The employee mindlessly scanned your snacks and asked if you wanted a bag, to which you’d said yes, and then dropped them into a bag while you dug out some money from your purse. After paying, you thanked them and took your bag of snacks, which crinkled loudly as you walked back out to see Yoongi on his phone.

“Are you going to Hoseok’s place?” you asked him, fidgeting in place.

He looked up at you with unreadable eyes, blinking owlishly at you. “We’re both going. He wants you to stay over for a few more days.”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought about said offer; it was very tempting, especially after you’d come home to a picture and an ominous note taped to your apartment’s mailbox. You nodded your head, not needing to think any longer on the subject. “Okay, but I need to get some things from home first.”

Yoongi pushed himself off the side of the store where he’d been leaning and gestured for you to lead the way. “I’ll come with you.”

The walk back was unnerving and quiet, the atmosphere between the two of you tense and uncomfortable. When you finally did reach the apartment building, you let the two of you inside and Yoongi told you to go up and he would wait for you in the lobby. You’d agreed and walked up the stairs to your floor, aimlessly making your way to the door.

Before you could unlock the door to your shared apartment, you noticed a small box and a little note taped to the side of it right outside the door. You furrowed your brows and crouched down, picking up the wrapped box in your hands and standing up again, slipping your keys onto your finger so you could pull the little folded note off of it. You stopped halfway, your skin crawling and every nerve in your body protesting what you were doing; alarms were going off in your head, but you needed to know what this was.

With trembling fingers, you opened the note the rest of the way and nearly dropped the box from the shock.

I’ll always keep you safe.

It looked the same as the first note that came alongside that picture of you and Hoseok hugging. Dread filled your belly as you stared at the lid of the small box, heart hammering against your ribs painfully. You lifted the lid slowly, an odd smell wafting immediately into your nostrils and you gagged, shutting your eyes. You blinked them open again and peered inside the box, a startled shout slipping past your lips as you let it drop from your hand and thud against the floor, flopping onto its side.

The severed finger lay beside the tiny box, dried blood smeared across it and a ring resting snugly around it.

Your back hit the wall opposite your apartment door and you slid down it until you were crouched, eyes wide and staring at the box and its contents spilled out on your floor between you and the door. Bile was building up and you had to swallow it back down, wrapping your arms around your knees as your entire body started to shiver and a violent chill ran down your spine.

A few moments later, Yoongi had appeared and you faintly heard him swear before he was touching you; you’d flinched away from the sudden feel of his skin on yours, but when you looked up at him, his expression was twisted with repulsion and concern as he helped you to your feet. You had fallen into his chest, eyes moving back to the finger, and he’d wrapped his arms around your body to hold you close.

“Don’t look,” he’d whispered into your hair, his hand sliding to the back of your head to press your face into his neck so you wouldn’t be able to see the box and what lay beside it.

When you came to your senses, thirty minutes had passed and there was a detective standing in front of you, asking you questions. Yoongi had stayed with you and you assumed he’d called the police since your brain had completely shut down in response to what you’d seen. Now, he was standing a few feet away from you speaking to a different officer.

“Miss,” the detective said, grabbing your attention again.

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked gruffly, hands on his hips as he looked at you with hard eyes.

You licked your lips and nodded. “I went out to the store and—and when I came back, that box was outside my apartment door.”

He hummed, narrowing his eyes. “And you didn’t see anyone coming or going?” He glanced back toward Yoongi and then met your gaze once more.

“No, I—Yoongi was with me when I was at the store,” you told the detective numbly.

“So you two left together and came back to this surprise?”

You shut your eyes, a headache coming on. “No, I left alone to go to the convenience store. I met Yoongi on the way and he walked with me to the store and back.”

The detective nodded his head. “So you came up here and found that box just lying there?”

“Yes,” you replied. “The note was taped to it.”

“Do you have any idea who would send you this?”

“No,” you mumbled, tears stinging in your eyes. “I don’t know, but I—recently I’ve felt like someone’s been watching me.”

The man’s eyebrow shot up. “Watching you? Did you see someone?”

You shook your head. “No, just a feeling like someone’s following me. It started a few weeks ago, I guess—oh, wait!” The yellow envelope came to the forefront of your mind and you pointed at your door, which was open with police officers moving in and out. “I got a—a note, too.”

“So this wasn’t the first time you’d gotten a gift like this?”

“Well, no, the first one was just a picture and a note.” You made your way inside of the apartment, the detective following suit and staying behind you the entire time. When you reached your bedroom, you pulled out the envelope and its contents from your drawer and handed it to the detective.

He pulled out the picture and the note and pursed his lips. “And how long ago did you get this?”

“I don’t know,” you responded. When he gave you a harsh gaze, your nerves acted up and your lips started to quiver as you forced yourself to keep talking. “A few weeks ago, I felt like someone was following me and—well, we saw a flash go off outside but didn’t find anyone—”

“I’m sorry, ‘we?’”

“Oh, right, uh, me and my best friend. When he didn’t find anyone outside, he freaked out and I’ve been staying with him the past week. I came back here earlier today for the first time to get some stuff and I found that envelope taped to my mailbox.”

“And you’re sure it was taped to your mailbox?”

Frustration built up in your lungs and you had to resist the overwhelming urge to huff and stomp your foot like a toddler. “Yes. It was taped right under my apartment number. And when I came back after leaving, I found that box right outside my door.”

The detective led you back outside to where only the officer with Yoongi remained. “Anything else you need to tell me?”

Something nagged at the back of your mind, something you knew was important, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. You tried to remember, but nothing came to mind, so you shook your head at the man. He nodded and mumbled something about keeping in touch and trying their best to catch whoever was doing this, but you knew not to keep your hopes up; stalkers were rarely ever caught in the early stages, not until they did something. You just hoped whoever was doing this would lose interest in you somehow.

You quickly looked at your phone, seeing a barrage of messages from a bunch of different people; the most were from Jungkook and Hoseok, but you spotted one from Seokjin hours ago and you clicked open the thread, something compelling your finger to touch his name.

[seokjinnie 5:28pm] — namjoon didn’t show up for his shift — can u come in and cover?

The thought that was stuck in the void of your brain came screeching to a halt at the forefront of your mind and you gasped, your heart sinking and your chest squeezing painfully.

“Detective!” you shouted down the hall, rushing toward him. He was still only a few feet away, chatting with the officer and Yoongi, presumably getting a few more pieces of information and checking to make sure your stories matched up.

Yoongi gave you a worried look and the detective raised his eyebrows at you. “Yes?”

You could feel the tremor in your fingers and knew your voice was going to be weak and shaky as you spoke your next words. “I think I know who the finger belongs to.”

You told Hoseok what had happened, of course. He was terrified for you, maybe even a tad bit more than you were, and you loved him for it. All of your friends took shifts, staying with you wherever you went, even walking you to work. You were picking up more shifts, now, to cover for Namjoon. He’d officially been labeled a missing person since you’d brought the police’s attention to the gift left for you; when they asked how you’d known, you’d answered with his ring. That familiarity knocking on the back of your brain had been telling you that you’d seen Namjoon wearing the same ring that was on the severed finger inside the box.

The atmosphere between you and Seokjin was still tense, especially when it was Jungkook walking you from class to work. Seokjin and Jungkook didn’t interact, but since Namjoon was gone the latter would come and spend time with you during your shift, sometimes even staying until closing.

Like today.

“It’s so weird,” you were saying to Jungkook as you were packing all of your things away in the front, Seokjin having waved you off when you were in the back. “I haven’t seen him in days.”

Jungkook held the door open for you and you walked through, shivering from the slight chill in the air. He fell into step beside you and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. You leaned into his warmth, smiling at him gratefully. “Haven’t seen who?”

“Jimin,” you said. “I told you already.” At his blank look, you elaborated again. “The guy from my class last week that you guys met outside.”

“Oh, him. Maybe he’s sick.”

You hummed, pouting your bottom lip out as you pondered. “Yeah, maybe. It’s just odd, you know?”

Jungkook hummed in response, rubbing his hand into your arm to help warm you up. “You wanna go back to my place?”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “I’ve never been to your place before, are you sure—”

He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s not a big deal. I usually take you to Hoseok’s place, right? But my place is a lot closer.”

You raised your eyebrows. “How much closer, though?”

Jungkook gave you a soft smile and pinched your arm. You yelped and then you two fell into a fit of giggles as you crossed the street. “A lot closer, actually. I only live a few minutes down this road.”

“Huh,” was all you said. He was pretty close to your apartment—instead of taking a left at the stop, the two of you took a right; only a few blocks away from you, you were guessing.

And you were right, as you two had reached the apartment building within only a few minutes. As he unlocked his door, you pulled out your phone.

[to hobi 9:32pm] — i’m at jungkook’s place — might not come to urs tonight!

You sent the texts to Hoseok, smiling at Jungkook as he walked in and kept the door open for you to follow. “It’s still weird,” you said as you took your shoes off and he shut the door, the click of the lock and his uninterested hum reaching your ears. “He was talking big game about the paper and then he didn’t show up for any of the important discussion days? You can’t tell me that’s not really weird—”

Your breath hitched when you felt Jungkook’s hands came to rest on your shoulders, his grip tightening and turning you around to face him before he backed you into the wall. You leaned against it and met his dark gaze.

“I think it’s weird that you’re talking about another man when you’re in my home,” he said lowly, voice sweet and tantalizing. His nose brushed against yours and your lips parted as your eyes darted down to his. He kept his eyes trained on you and it made you shiver with anticipation.

“I’m just worried,” you whispered, voice cracking. Your cheeks flushed as he chuckled quietly, breath fanning against your face. His hand moved up from your shoulder to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it gently.

“You should be worried about your punishment,” he growled, leaning the last few centimeters in and pressing his mouth roughly against yours. You gasped softly at the feeling of his soft lips on yours and he took the opportunity you presented him with, licking into your mouth and deepening the kiss. His fingers tightened around your neck and you let out a small noise, muffled by his tongue and mouth.

“J-Jungkook—” you mumbled into his mouth.

He pulled back for a second, biting down hard on your bottom lip and making you whine quietly. “My name is the only name you should be saying, baby,” he breathed out, squeezing your throat. You blinked a few times as little dots swam across your vision, the pressure of his hand around you only making heat pool between your thighs faster. You rubbed them together and it got his attention.

“Jungkook, please,” you whispered, squeezing your thighs together as an ache throbbed between them.

“Are you already wet for me, baby?” he mumbled, pressing small chaste kisses to your lips. You nodded and he brought the hand not around your neck down to your thigh, dragging his fingers up slowly until his hand was sliding the hem of your dress up. You nipped at his lip in retaliation and he snarled, digging his fingers into your inner thigh and making you whimper.

He pulled his hand away and landed a loud smack with his palm against your bare skin. A strangled sound ripped its way out of your throat and he squeezed around your windpipe gently before letting go, letting you suck in a startled breath. Jungkook slid his hand up the rest of the way and cupped you with his palm, pressing his middle finger into your slit through your panties.

“I can feel you through your underwear,” he groaned, pressing kisses into your neck. “You’re such a dirty girl; do you like being punished, baby?” You didn’t answer, too busy starting to grind into the heel of his palm, which rested directly on your clit. The layer of fabric separating his skin from yours only added friction and you shuddered as pleasure built up in your abdomen. He bit down on the skin of your shoulder, hard, and your hips stuttered in their movements. “I asked you a question,” he mumbled into your flesh, pressing the flat of his tongue against his bite mark and then sucking it into his mouth.

“Yes,” you rasped, moaning loudly when he pushed his finger up harder against you. “I like it when you punish me, Jungkook.”

He swore and pulled away from you abruptly, letting your dress fall back into place. You looked at him with warm cheeks and you could feel your panties sticking to you uncomfortably, the ache between your legs growing as you watched his expression. He took you by the hand and led you down the small hall to where you assumed his bedroom was.

Once the two of you were inside, he immediately turned to you and grabbed at your dress, reaching to the back and unzipping it. He shoved at the sleeves to get them off of your arms and then let the article of clothing slip down your body and land in a heap on the floor. He stopped for a moment, ravaging your body with his eyes before he groaned and started to unbuckle his belt.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, shoving at his pants and then kicking them off. You did as he commanded immediately, crawling up onto the bed and sitting in the middle. You watched him take his shirt off and let your eyes wander his physique as he pulled his boxers off. Your mouth watered immediately at the sight of him, your pussy throbbing at the natural curve of his dick.

Jungkook got on the bed after you, crawling up until he was towering over you. He sat on his knees and pressed his mouth onto yours, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip and pulling away just as you opened your mouth for more. He peeled your bra off and hooked his fingers into your panties and tugged them down quickly, pupils dilating at how wet you were.

“Fuck, ____,” he whispered. “You’re so wet already, I could probably just slip right in.”

You muffled a moan into your hand and felt yourself clench around nothing in anticipation.

He looked up at you sharply, pressing his hand to your shoulder and pushing you to lay down on your back on his bed. “Would you like that?” he purred, laying over you and spreading your thighs apart. His dick pressed against your folds and you moaned, clenching and rocking your hips up. He bit back a moan at the feeling of you spreading yourself all over his dick and you were so aroused that you couldn’t even be embarrassed at your own actions.

“Please,” you begged, opening your eyes and wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him down and closer to you.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he murmured, lips barely brushing yours. He pulled his hips back and lined up the head of his dick, rubbing it into your clit a few times and relishing in the sounds that bubbled out of your mouth in response. With a smirk, he pushed it inside slowly, gritting his teeth at how you clenched so tightly around him.

“It’s so big,” you whined, clenching and unclenching.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked quietly, brushing some of your hair away from your face.

“No,” you moaned, rocking your hips up and pushing yourself farther on him. He slid in half way from the sudden movement and you both groaned at the feeling. Jungkook rolled his hips a few more times until he was completely buried inside of you. He paused to let you adjust to the size since he hadn’t prepared you with his fingers first.

“You feel so good and so tight, baby, you’re such a good girl for me,” he breathed, kissing your lips quickly. You ground your hips into his as your reply, clenching as tight as you could and laughing breathlessly at the sound that came out of his mouth.

“Fuck me, Jungkook,” you whispered, closing your eyes and letting them roll to the back of your head as he pulled out until only the head was still inside.

“With pleasure,” he grunted, shoving back in roughly.

He started a brutal pace, fast and hard, the sound of your skin sticking and slapping together from how wet you were and the sweat only adding to the pleasure running through your body. Every drag of his dick against your walls built another layer of ecstasy in your abdomen and you writhed underneath him, your body moving up and down with each thrust.

“I love your pussy,” he muttered, slowing down his thrusts to hold himself still inside you for a second longer with each one. “So hungry for my cock, isn’t that right?” He shoved his dick as deep as he could inside of you, the head brushing against the rough patch on your walls and you cried out, clenching around it. “Such a good girl for me, always ready to take this cock.”

He held himself still inside of you, grinding his hips against you instead and rubbing the head of his dick into your g-spot. He brought a hand down between your bodies and ran his fingers up and down your folds around his dick, gathering your slick on the tips. Then he slid them back up and pushed them into your clit, rubbing it quickly and as hard as he could while he bucked his hips into you as if trying to reach even deeper.

You clenched around him even tighter, the fullness of his dick inside of you, pressing against you so completely, and his fingers working your clit building up your orgasm faster than ever. You came without warning, the air slipping from your lungs as you arched your back and spikes of pleasure spread to the tips of your fingers.

Jungkook started up his thrusts again when you came, pulling out halfway before shoving his dick back inside and leaning down to bite into your neck and shoulder. He rocked his hips into yours erratically, his thrusts sloppy as he chased his own orgasm and helped you ride out yours. He kept pushing slow circles into your clit as snapped his hips one more time and spurted all over your walls. Your clenching pussy milked him of every last drop while he gave a few last strokes and fucked his seed into you until it was leaking out from around his dick.

He pulled his dick out quickly, moving his fingers off of your clit and replacing them with his thumb. You yelped and tried to shift away from him.

“Jungkook, no, it—it hurts,” you whined, shutting your eyes as he continued to push his thumb against your clit, shoving it harder each time. He slipped two of his fingers inside of you and swore under his breath at how full of his come you were. You keened at the oversensitivity and clenched around his fingers hard.

“You want another orgasm, baby?” he asked sweetly, finding your g-spot quickly and rubbing the tips of his fingers into the rough patch. You mumbled something incoherent, nodding your head and lifting your arms to fist the bedsheets beside your head. Then he stopped his movements completely. “You’ll have to fuck yourself on my fingers, then.”

Your mouth fell open in shock and your cheeks flushed as he raised an eyebrow at you, smirk present on his lips.

You grit your teeth and did as he said, rocking your hips down onto his fingers repeatedly. The pad of his thumb rubbed into your clit and you let out a shaky breath as you worked yourself on his fingers, aiming for your g-spot every time. Soon, your thighs were shaking and you whimpered as you felt your second orgasm building in your abdomen.

Jungkook moved his thumb away and you started to whine at the loss so close to your high, but then the flat of his tongue pressed into your clit hard and a strangled moan left your mouth as you ground into his tongue and fingers and your orgasm washed over you hard. You slowed your hips to a stop, panting hard, and Jungkook moved away from you, pulling out his fingers and marveling at how messy you looked.

You let him look, too tired to be embarrassed enough, and he maneuvered your thighs every which way he wanted so he could watch his come slip out of you and down to his bedsheets. When he was done appreciating the sight of you stuffed full of his seed, he got up and grabbed a washcloth to clean you up.

He laid beside you, covering the both of you with his blanket. You smiled at him in a daze and he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before shutting his eyes and dozing off to sleep, just like he had the first time. You shut your eyes too, but you could not fall asleep. Your body was too wired to rest after that round of sex and you sat up in his bed, stretching and reaching for the remote on his bedside table. He had a TV directly across from the bed and you got comfortable as you switched it on and started to channel surf.

“—you for the weather, now on to the ongoing case involving Lee Jieun, who has still yet to be found after months of searching—”

You changed the channel in your haste to find something entertaining by accident, and you quickly went back to the channel, ears perking up at the news of a missing person.

“—ice have been doing everything they can, but still haven’t been able to locate her or her attacker. Their only hope was Miss Lee’s boyfriend, Kim Taehyung, to wake up from the injuries he sustained months prior in Daegu after allegedly confronting the suspect. However, in an unfortunate turn of events, Mr. Kim passed away from his injuries in the ICU earlier tonight, leaving the police with no le—”

You stopped listening, heart battering your ribcage. Had they said the name Taehyung? Your limbs felt heavy and you suddenly felt too exposed as you turned to look at the man sleeping peacefully beside you. Didn’t he say Taehyung was his friend from your university, not from Daegu?

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Jungkook, your hands shaking as you clutched the remote tightly to your chest and the sound of the news reporter’s voice becoming white noise in the back of your mind.

Was Jungkook really who he said he was?

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billyharris · 7 years

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☼ Underneath The Same Sun ☼

Chapter two y’all !! It’s time to get real. Once again, this is inspired by the amazing @t0ziers. Mel wrote their own fic, and I highly recommend you check it out !! Also, this got real long. So I think I’m going to need to do a chapter three. Otherwise, this would actually be a novel. Whoops!! I think three would be a perfect sum of the story, but we shall see. Hope y’all like it !!

✧ Chapter One ✧ Chapter Two ✧ Chapter Three

Words ;; 3,122 ･ﾟ Pairing ;; Richie Tozier / Eddie Kaspbrak & some sprinkles of Stan Uris / Bill Denbrough (It) ･ﾟ Warnings ;; ANGST BOYS, strong language, plenty of penis talk, and some 18 y/o boys phone sexing it up

❝ — Eddie Kaspbrak was Richie’s first ever boyfriend. In the past, any relationship the trashmouth had was simply a hookup or summer fling. Nothing remarkably close to how he felt now. Even though they still have yet to touch, Richie knew he was in love. His soulmate might be 2,806.6 miles away, but he’d be damned if he let that effect their now two month long relationship.

The boys were constantly messaging one another. They gave each other play by plays of their day in such detail that Richie felt like he too was freezing his ass off in New York. Richie had limited minutes when it came to texting, but UCLA had free wifi, so Tumblr was their best way of keeping in touch. That meant that Richie’s face was now permanently glued to his screen.

↪ trxshmouth - Send Nudes ?

↪ pastelgazebo - Richie It’s 2am !!

↪ trxshmouth - you’re roommates must be asleep

↪ trxshmouth - more of a reason for you to send nudes

↪ trxhsmouth - ;)

↪ pastelgazebo - Richie, I’m not going to do that. We’ve discussed this. I’m just not comfortable yet. I will be soon. I swear. I just need time.

↪ trxshmouth - [ Attached Image ]

↪ pastelgazebo - Richie I am literally a couple of feet away from Mike and Ben !! You can’t do this to me again !!

↪ trxshmouth - [ Attached Image ]

↪ pastelgazebo - BEEP BEEP

↪ trxshmouth - [ Attached Image ]

↪ pastelgazebo -OMG STOP !! I’m going to have a fucking asthma attack !!

“Must you do this right in front of us, Richie ?!” Stan was standing in the doorway of the dorm, staring down his roommate, who in one hand was holding out the fabric of his boxers and the other taking a picture of the contents. Richie honestly didn’t see Bill and Stan walk in, but it wasn’t like it mattered. He’d do it in front of them anyway. Bill wasn’t the biggest fan of his own roommate, so he practically all but moved into casa Uris/Tozier a few weeks back.

“Privacy went way out the door when Big Bill began using this dorm like a nudist colony, Stanley” The boy took his huge duvet and pulled it over his aroused state. “Not all of us live in the same state as our boyfriends, and it’s a little rude to call me out for my and Eddie’s long distance predicament.” Bill was cracking a smile now. He always did find Richie to be funny. Even if he often took it too far. He immediately saw Richie’s appeal when he began dating Stan. They bickered, and fought like a married couple, but they really cared for each other, Bill thought it was adorable. “And after I reinstated you as my best friend...tsk tsk Stan the Man.”

“I did not ask for this. Believe me. I was happy when you gave my title away. And what did I tell you about that dumb nickname. It was one time, Trashmouth. And he wasn’t even fully naked.” Stan and Bill were now sitting next to each other on the opposite bed, holding hands, their phones in the others.

“Actually I saw him come out of the shower last week.” Richie was smirking and when Stan shot his boyfriend a look all the boy could do was shrug. “It’s not my fault there is not enough fabric in the world to cover up your boyfriend’s massive penis, Stanley. You really should just embrace it.”

“I hate you both !”

“You love me.” Richie retorted, sticking his tongue out to the other and his boyfriend, before falling over on his side and getting right back to messaging Eddie and scrolling through his dash.

“You fucking wish, Tozier, you fucking wish.” But Stan was smiling, giving Bill a shove for his lack of input on the conversation.

❝ — Richie and Eddie had now been an item for around three months. They helped one another study and proofread essays for each other. They skyped everyday - sometimes for hours and hours, talking about anything and everything. Richie always woke up to a ‘good morning’ message from Eddie and a ‘good night, babe’ before he went to bed. Everything seemed to be a mirror to their previous friendship. Just labeled with a different title. It hurt that Richie couldn’t take Eddie out on a proper date. He wanted to go see a scary movie with his boyfriend. He wanted to pay for the tickets and hold the smaller boy’s hand as some killer scared the audience. He wouldn’t jump though, because he would be too transfixed with rubbing his thumb on Eddie’s soft recently sanitized hands. He craved to lean over and make out with the the boy while the plot finished up on the projector and the credits began to roll. He wished they were too wound up with each other to see the theater was now empty and some pimple covered worker was trying to get their attention to leave - so he could clean up the popcorn covered floor. They would stumble out of the cinema, a tangle of limbs, until they huddled in the back of Richie’s car and finished what they started in the closing act of ‘Scream 54.′It wasn’t too much to ask for from your boyfriend. But those 2,000 miles that separated them made their love a little hard to maintain. And that tore Richie up inside.

It was now their official three month anniversary. An Eddie had promised Richie a very special present for the occasion. He was awoken with a message: ‘↪ pastelgazebo - Good Morning, babe !! Tonight I’m ready.’ Richie nearly popped a boner right then and there. He breakfast club style fist pumped the air. “Mazel Tov to me !! Tonight I become a man !!”

“Shut up Richie.” Stan and Bill chimed in unison from their usual spooning position across the dorm. Stan would’ve thrown his pillow at his roommate, but he learned from experience it didn’t change anything. And it was just a waste of a pillow.

Eddie got Mike and Ben to evacuate their room. Stan took Bill out to some GSA club event and the two boys were finally able to get their privacy. Richie of course wanted to Skype so he could see his boyfriend’s gorgeous face as he pleased himself. The thought alone was making Richie unable to concentrate on anything else all day. But Eddie was cautious and they settled on just good ol’ phone sex. Richie sat in his boxer-briefs (The ones Bill highly recommended, but cracked that Richie wouldn’t quite be able to fill them out like he did. Richie was too proud to even be mad at the statement. ) They were both nervous. Eddie was a virgin and Richie had never sexed through the phone before. So the call was quiet for a solid minute. They two boys lying down on their beds on either coast of the country, debating on how to start the whole ordeal. “What are you wearing ??” Richie finally decided on to break the silence.

His eyes were closed to help picture Eddie’s description. “I’m naked. Aren’t you ??” Richie bit at his lip. His boyfriend never ceased to amaze him. Just when he thought Eddie was this little, nervous, innocent boy - He would sweep Richie off his feet. “Where are we, in the fantasy I mean ??”

The two stumbled around on technicalities for a little while. Eddie would correct Richie on the fact that in their current fantasy state Richie would have three hands or they would forget who was on top at the moment. But after a little while, those minor details seemed to be moot. Once the boys got going - nothing seemed to exist except for them. Richie was so lost in the fantasy, he swore he could feel Eddie’s breath on his neck and his nimble fingers pulling on his hair. Word’s alone got the thought that Richie wasn’t holding onto to himself, but Eddie’s hands or mouth was around his hard-on instead. Eds was gasping on the other end and it was making Richie’s insides come undone. The slight muffled moans through the phone were driving the boy crazy. He flipped over to bury his face into his pillow - no longer able to form actual words. The sounds Eddie were making were caused Richie to forget how to properly function. He was a mess of thrusting down into his hand and gripping onto the phone as if it were his boyfriend’s hand. At the end of it all, Richie was just tickling his pickle like he usually did. It was standard procedure when your boyfriend lived so far away. But with Eddie in his ear - everything felt super charged. It felt so real. It honestly felt better than any physical sex he had with a past partner. At some point he forgot about the fantasy they built, and Richie just focused on the fact that somewhere in New York City, his boyfriend was pleasuring himself thinking about him. It was unbelievable, almost. He couldn’t believe he was so lucky to have such an amazing partner. It was driving him wild. So wild, he ended up finishing far before Eddie. He stayed face leaned on the phone and pillow, just listening to Eddie take care of himself, the largest smile he could possibly fathom plastered on his face. Eddie called out his name when he was done and Richie almost proposed it sounded so beautiful.

After ; the same awkward silence from before returned. The two sat just breathing into the speaker of their phones, waiting for the other to speak up. Eddie took over that job. And right before he spoke, Rich could of sworn he heard him take a hit of his inhaler. “So - that was nice.”

“Eds, my dear. That was fucking fantastic.”

❝ — Classes and roommates ended up messing with the boys future attempts to repeat what they did on their anniversary three weeks ago. He was pretty hungover after Bill’s birthday party last night. Not having Eddie there was pretty hard for the boy. He usually drank, but decided getting wasted was a much better option. It helped make up for the three week long blue balls stent he was going through at the moment. After their anniversary, doing it fully alone just wasn’t enough. Nothing could come close to how good he felt that night. But Richie figured a combination of rum and weed would work for a little. Around 4am, Stan had to drag a very plastered Bill and Richie up three flights of stairs - complaining the entire time, of course. They all passed out and Richie was lucky enough to have the earliest class out of the three. It was 7am, and Richie was dosing off at his tiny desk.

But the notification pop up on his phone was enough to wake the boy up . It was a snapchat from Eddie. Most of his boyfriend’s snaps were blurry pictures of himself or some screenshot of an inside joke. So Richie thought nothing of opening it in the lecture hall. “What the fuck.” He nearly fell out of his seat, only a few people looking back at him after he whispered to himself. He didn’t even notice. How could he when instead of some fuzzy picture of math notes, Richie was looking at a beautifully framed mirror shot of his boyfriend’s bare chest, briefs pulled down, with his dick in hand. The small text on the top of the snap read ‘Fourth month anniversary soon!’ As soon as the actual work of art was there, it was gone. Richie replayed it and screenshotted it. Having a feeling he would never get another snap like that from Eds again.

The lecture ended and Richie nearly sprinted to bathroom to repay the favor. Since they started dating, the dick picks had always been one-sided. Richie didn’t mind, really. Sure he teased his boyfriend about sending him nudes all the time. But only because he thought he would never get them. Richie couldn’t stop looking at the photo. It was glorious. But he knew that Bill and Stan went through his phone all the time. They would clog up his camera roll anytime he left his phone unintended. And Richie was not going to let his friends see Eddie like that. No way. But he couldn’t just delete this once in a lifetime opportunity. He decided to draft the picture to his tumblr and then delete it. He could always look back on it this way. Plus see it on even bigger screen when given the chance. The only problem was that he didn’t draft the snapchat. Too giddy over the days events added with his insane hangover, the trashmouth accidentally queued the post instead. It ended up posting midnight California time.

Richie was awoken by ping after ping on his phone. Tumblr messages from his followers asking if it was real and hundreds of reblogs of some photo Richie had posted. But the worst was a text, not a message, but an actual text from Eddie. ‘SKYPE ME NOW!!’ That was twenty minutes ago. The brunette boy was so confused to what was going on, he threw his phone to the side of the bed and quickly flipped open his mac to skype Eddie. As it rang, he fished for his glasses and put them on. Now not blind, he was able to see the boy answer. Eddie’s cheeks were stained with tears, a consoling Bev standing behind the common room chair Eddie was sitting in. Stan and Bill were still asleep - also out of the loop of the night that just occurred. “Eds. What’s wrong ??”

“Don’t fucking call me that, Richie. Why the fuck would you do that ?! For fucking what, FAME ?! A JOKE ?! What would ever make you think that was okay ?! I just - I just wanted to be a good boyfriend and make you happy. Fuck !! What was I thinking !?”

“Eds - Eddie - I have no clue what you are talking about ?? I just woke up. Just calm down. Speak to me. We’ll get through this.” Richie was wracking his mind to what he could of done. But he had no idea.

“Check your fucking phone, asshole.” That was the first time Richie had heard Bev’s voice. Although it was distant, it felt like a punch to the face. Richie grabbed his phone and opened the tumblr app to see were all the reblogs where from. His hands shook so much he dropped the phone into his lap.

He looked up at the screen, tears of his own forming on his waterline. “Eddie - I had no idea. I swear I meant to draft that -”

Eddie cut him off, choking on his own anger. “ Delete it !! Delete it now !!” He was livid, sucking into his inhaler and matching Richie in the shakes. Richie deleted the original post - but didn’t know what else to say. He just stared at his boyfriend through the screen. “What if my mom saw, Richie ?! She doesn’t know I’m dating you - or that I’m having sex or whatever. She doesn’t know my tumblr. She’s going to kill me !! She’s going to make me drop out !!” Richie wanted to interject with the fact that maybe no one saw it. But the post already had 3,000 notes. Pings were still going off in Richie’s hand. It didn’t matter that the original was gone. It was out there. People could of saved it, re-uploaded. No matter what, it wasn’t going away. “This is so fucked !!”

“Eddie. This was a huge accident. I swear I didn’t mean to do this to you. I would never do this to you.” He was sobbing now. Liquid flying down his freckled cheeks as he weeped. Bev was shaking her head in the background and now Bill and Stan were awake and looking across the room to Richie. Both had there phones in their hands. They knew.

“People are messaging me on tumblr, Rich. They’re calling me a slut,a whore. I don’t even know what a thot is - but I assume it’s not good!! All because they know we’re dating through you. I wanted to keep our relationship private. But you had to go and talk about it on your dumb blog.” People loved how adorable Eddie and Richie were. He sometimes would get anons asking how their skype dates went or comments about how cute they were when Richie posted photos of Eddie to his blog. People were invested in some retired viner’s long distance relationship because it was 2017 and apparently this is what the world is like now.

“Eddie - I don’t know what to say. I can’t - I didn’t even think this would happen....I just...At least your face isn’t in it ?? Right ??” He sighed, not being able to see through his tear blurred eyes anymore. But he didn’t need to see. Eddie was hysterical. Choking on his own sobbing, taking hits from his inhaler every few seconds. He was falling apart and it was impossible not to blame him. “I promise we will get through this. A couple weeks from now - people will forget this ever happened and we can move on. We might even look back when we’re old and gray and laugh at it. Right ?? ‘Ha. Remember when I uploaded your dick to tumblr, Eds ?? Ha. Wasn’t that hilarious - Right, Eds ??”

“Don’t fucking call me that !! - You know what ?? Don’t fucking call at all !! I never want to hear from your trashmouth ever again !!” Eddie slammed his laptop closed and the call dropped. Richie’s head fell into his hands, loud cries muffled through his fingers filled the dead air in the dorm. All he wanted to do was savor in his boyfriend’s beauty. He thought he was protecting Eddie from anyone seeing the picture. He thought he was doing the right thing. But Richie Tozier was nothing but a fuck up. His parents made that very clear to him. Someone so amazing like Eddie didn’t deserve such a fuck up like Richie. He should of saw it coming. He should of been able to see that the best thing to ever happened to him wouldn’t last. Maybe he just deserved to be alone. This way he couldn’t fuck up anyone else’s life.

I’m going to tag all the people who asked for this chapter. Hope that’s cool - I don’t really know the protocol and I don’t want to leave anyone out. Also let me know if you want to be tagged in chapter three !! @my-son-richie-tozier @liohprincexx @rememberingtozier @lukemybieber @cupcakeatl @richie-n-eds @im-not-psychotic @dianathehorrible @fangirl-and-proud4 @aestheticlly-indie @makelovegood

#richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #reddie #reddie fic #reddie au #[ F ]

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im-coming-to-you-live · 7 years

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SquidBob- True Art

Um yeah new to this. My tumblr’s fairly new and I barely use it but a friend of mine wanted to see my fanfics on here so I might just do that. I’m not really sure what the proper format for posting fics is, but eh this looks about right? For @supericebeam I’m just going to post my SquidBob stuff first then I’ll post the others.

Title: True Art Summary: The Mayor of Bikini Bottom commissions Squidward to carve a sculpture of SpongeBob to honor his heroism in saving their town. Rated: T for Teen; 13+ Characters: SpongeBob, Squidward, the Mayor Pairing(s): SquidBob, slight Squandy Genre: Romance/ Drama Word Count: 4, 598

Fic belongs to me.

SpongeBob Musical belongs to Kyle Jarrow (who wrote the book).

[X-posted from deviantART]

A month passed after the near eruption. During Bikini Bottom’s Reconstruction period, the Mayor had asked Squidward into her office on a Sunday afternoon (which he was more than happy to oblige—after all, if the Mayor personally requests you, it must be important) and to his gratification, she offered him a commission. He perked up at the word ‘’commission’’, thinking this was his long-deserved reward for organizing that stupid concert, but his parade was soon rained on by the mention of the name ‘’SpongeBob’’. Of course. Any shard of happiness he ever had always had to be spoiled by the likes of that half-witted invertebrate. He sulked, listening to the Mayor ramble on about wanting Squidward to carve a sculpture of SpongeBob, to honor the ‘’simple sponge’’ for his bravery in saving the town. Squidward didn’t agree to it, not verbally anyhow, but the Mayor assumed all was settled and rushed Squidward into the hallway, where he bumped into the sponge himself on his way in. SpongeBob must’ve said ‘’hello’’ or something but Squidward went temporarily blind and deaf. ‘’SpongeBob, yes, do come in!’’ the Mayor waved him in her office, then turned to Squidward before closing the door and said, ‘’I just can’t wait to see your masterpiece, Mister...’’ his last name escaped her. Still glowering, he replied, ‘’Tentacles.’’ ‘’Yes, Mr. Vegetables.’’ ‘’Tentacles, with a ‘T’, ma’am,’’ he repeated, louder this time. ‘’Telephones, that’s what I said,’’ and she closed the door. ‘’THAT’S TENTACLES!’’

* * * * * * * * * *

Inside the office, neither the Mayor nor SpongeBob heard Squidward’s outburst, although SpongeBob did hear something that sounded like ‘’Professionals!’’ being screamed right outside the door. He turned to find the source of said noise but the Mayor pinched his cheek, like his Grandmother always did, forcing him to turn his attention towards her. ‘’Now, little yellow one, I have a proposition to make,’’ and she petted his hair in a forced maternal display of affection. ‘’Lollipop? Cookie? Or whatever kids eat these days?’’ With that, she pushed a bowl of sweets, which had been resting on her desk, towards him.

‘’No thank you, ma’ am, I’ve just had lunch.’’ He wouldn’t dare eye that candy neither. He was trying to act mature before the Mayor, but in reality he hadn’t quite grown out of those things. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her to see him as just a ‘’kid’’, so he straightened up, and folded his hands firmly over his lap. He had to remind himself that he was in a government official’s presence, not at his Grandmother’s. The Mayor seemed impressed and took her place behind her desk, ready to talk business with SpongeBob, one-on-one, like one adult to another.

‘’So, Mr. SquashPants,’’ she indicated. ‘’You’re not as ‘simple’ as everyone said you were. No, I see a man sitting right where you are, not a boy. Shame on Mr. Cakes for notifying me how callow you were. After all, a juvenile couldn’t be the hero of our town, now could he?’’ she laughed, expecting him to laugh with her.

He flushed scarlet, not bothering to correct her mispronunciation of his surname (and poor Mr. Krabs, thank the watery heavens he wasn’t here. He would have the mind to disregard the Mayor’s feelings and stubbornly correct her). SpongeBob knew she was generally bad with surnames and thought it best not to point this out. She meant well. ‘’Thank you, ma ‘am.’’ He said, shyly. ‘’But I’m not—‘’

‘’Nonsense!’’

* * * * * * * * * *

Squidward knew the Mayor had dismissed him but he couldn’t help but eavesdrop and found himself crouching in the hallway, his ear pressed against the door to listen. He heard SpongeBob at first politely decline the Mayor’s offer, saying he hadn’t done it for the glory but that he did it because he loved Bikini Bottom so much (this was only the half truth. After all, Squidward hoped SpongeBob didn’t forget about his initial quest on the path to praise or as he put it ‘’claim to fame’’). You little brat, Squidward thought to himself. Don’t sound so discreet. You know you want that statue as much as the next guy. I mean, who wouldn’t?

* * * * * * * * * *

Alright, so SpongeBob tried to contain his excitement, but he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t happy about it either. He was, oh so very much. At the same time, becoming a hero grew less important to him the closer he got to Mt. Humungous. He tried to tell her this, but the Mayor only lightly teased him about his humbleness. ‘’Of course you must be rewarded!’’ she said. ‘’Without you, our town would have been up in flames and burnt to a....um...’’ He saw her wracking her brain for the proper word.

‘’A crisp?’’ SpongeBob suggested.

‘’I was gonna say Herring and Pumpkin Pot Pie, you ever try one of those? ‘Course not, they sell that kind of cra- uh, stuff in Shell City. They catch you fresh and cook...uh, anyway, that works, too. What was I saying?’’

‘’That I was to have a memento, to be Squidward’s magnum opus.’’ He blushed again.

‘’Yes, because you’re a hero and thanks to your heroism we’re not pickled herring in fishy pot pie!’’

Before the Mayor could go off on a tangent once more, scatterbrained as she often was, SpongeBob then quickly requested that his friends be included into the honory monument. He couldn’t take

all

the credit—it was Sandy who invented the ‘’ingenious bubble device’’ in the first place, and Patrick who had saved him in time from falling to his death. But the Mayor either didn’t hear him or pretended not to, and before he could stop her, she had pushed him out of her office and into the arms of Squidward waiting in the hallway outside.

‘’But, Miss Mayor, ma’ am,’’ he started but she closed the door in his face. He sighed, then turned to Squidward, and nervously smiled up at him but as usual, the sour crank had a grimace and told him to be at his house tomorrow morning to model. Then he left, grumbling something about ‘’who needs heroes’’ and ‘’wouldn’t do it for the world if it didn’t mean exposure and getting some credit myself.’’

* * * * * * * * * *

‘’Turn to the left, please,’’ Squidward instructed him. SpongeBob moved his chin to the left. ‘’Your other left.’’ He did as he was told, moving instead to the right. Squidward sighed and stood from his easel. ‘’What?’’ SpongeBob asked. ‘’Let’s see your other side again. Maybe it’s your ‘good side’.’’ ‘’Both sides are my ‘good side’,’’ SpongeBob teased, but Squidward was in no mood for jokes. SpongeBob re-positioned himself on the stool and waited for further instruction. Squidward contemplated him for such a long time that SpongeBob grew restless and began to squirm, reaching to scratch a tickle on his nose. ‘’Don’t move!’’ Squidward barked. SpongeBob froze, his hand in mid-air, inches from his nose. ‘’No, I mean,’’ Squidward began, slapping his head. ‘’Forget it. Just lose the hand.’’ Lose his hand? How would he do that? SpongeBob thought for a moment, then an idea entered his head. He then proceeded to pretend to chop off his hand and throw it over his shoulder. ‘’How’s that?’’ he beamed at himself, turning to find Squidward’s approval, but instead he was met with knit brows. ‘’Cut it out. Now just be serious.’’ Serious? Gee, couldn’t Squidward make up his mind? With that, SpongeBob let his hand fall before furrowing his brow and pouting his lips, perhaps a little too much. Squidward sighed. ‘’SpongeBob? What are you doing?’’ In a deep, slow voice, SpongeBob answered, ‘’I’m. Being. Seeeerious.’’ When he saw that Squidward wrinkled his brow, either in confusion or annoyance, it was hard to tell, SpongeBob, reverting to his normal voice, inquired, ‘’No good? How’s this?’’ and he relaxed his mouth into an Abe Lincoln frown, resting his chin in his hand as though he were thinking of something very important. When Squidward didn’t say anything, SpongeBob whispered, ‘’Why so serious?’’ Squidward came over and made him go back to his first position. ‘’Stop playing around. I mean it.’’ But today he didn’t sound angry. No, in fact, he sounded very weary, as though he hadn’t slept all night. SpongeBob suddenly felt remorseful that he was giving Squidward a difficult time, and he tried extra hard not to laugh, he really did, but he couldn’t help it, not if his life depended on it. If this had been the Mayor, he knew he could act appropriately, so he didn’t know why he couldn’t get it together for Squidward. He thought for sure Squidward would scold him to ‘’Grow up!’’ any minute now, as he always did. But Squidward said nothing of the sort. He only stared at SpongeBob in his fit of snickering, then shut him up by grabbing his chin tightly in his hand and sharply turning his face once more. But the action wasn’t hurtful. Yes, Squidward was exhausted, SpongeBob could tell. He wanted to ask him if he had a rough night, but frankly, he couldn’t talk with Squidward’s fingers pressing on each side of his jaw. After a long time, Squidward finally blurted out, ‘’You have a really weird face.’’ SpongeBob giggled, thinking Squidward meant it as a joke, then exclaimed in return, ‘’So do you, Mr. Tennis Balls!’’ But Squidward didn’t hear him. He was lost in his thoughts, studying some part of SpongeBob’s features with those tired middle-aged eyes of his. SpongeBob wanted to think he was looking straight through him but the look in Squidward’s eyes suggested otherwise. It looked as though he weren’t really seeing him, but rather, looking past him. SpongeBob carefully watched as the lines on Squidward’s face grew longer. He wasn’t satisfied with what he was seeing. ‘’Should’ve used your submarine squirrel maiden instead,’’ he told him. ‘’Now that’s a profile I can work with.’’ It took SpongeBob a moment to realize he meant Sandy. ‘’She’s got a certain Nubian elegance to her,’’ Squidward continued. ‘’If she weren’t a hillbilly, she’d be the Queen of the Nile.’’ In English, that simply meant he found Sandy to be exceptionally beautiful. SpongeBob bit his bottom lip. Squidward was so beat, he probably didn’t grasp what he just said. But to SpongeBob, it was as good as a confession. ‘’I’ll tell her you said that,’’ SpongeBob joked. Again, Squidward didn’t seem to comprehend. He went on, ‘’Your eyes are too dark, almost pupiless. You have an ugly mouth, thin and lopsided, too many freckles on your arms. How does the Mayor expect me to work like this?’’ SpongeBob wasn’t offended. It was true, he had a sideways grin and he always hated his freckles. Amused, he leaned back on the stool. ‘’Anything else you have a problem with?’’ ‘’Well, now that you mention it,’’ Squidward resumed, ‘’You could use some color. You’re deathly pale. And your body—‘’ SpongeBob raised an eyebrow. ‘’What’s wrong with it?’’ ‘’See those little veins sticking out? Right there in the crease of your arm? No, the inside of your elbows. There. That’s terribly unattractive.’’ SpongeBob frowned. He understood then that Squidward wasn’t clowning around. Okay, he could agree on a few things, like his freckles for instance. And he was pasty, no matter how much sun he tried to soak up to little avail. But getting so fussy over barely noticeable veins—something everyone had, including Squidward, particularly in that same exact spot on his arms, was crossing the line a bit. In short, Squidward’s criticisms were a little too on the nose. ‘’And these knees,’’ Squidward pointed. ‘’If I had knees as shoddy as that, I’d be far too embarrassed to run around in short trousers as you do. Oh, that’s another thing. Your thighs are so thick I’m surprised you haven’t ripped your pants yet. And your ankles. They’re too skinny.’’ Squidward pulled at them, only protected by SpongeBob’s black Vans Sk8-Hi brand, the padded collar which snuggily hugged his ankles. ‘’Wearing those stupid socks with those stupid shoes don’t make it any better. In fact, it makes it worse. Who taught you how to dress anyhow?’’ SpongeBob pursed his lips, but Squidward wasn’t finished. ‘’Your shoulders are far too square. Look, they jut out like an ogre,’’ and here, Squidward gripped him around the shoulders, to demonstrate their faulty ‘’squareness.’’ ‘’What do you expect? I’m a sponge,’’ SpongeBob tried to reason but Squidward just kept talking over him. ‘’And what are all these moles on your neck?’’ ‘’My mother gave me those.’’ ‘’One reason people shouldn’t have children. They pass on their ugly hereditary traits to the poor offspring who has to suffer for it.’’ ‘’I like my ‘moles’,’’ SpongeBob rebutted, but despite this he covered the small spots on his neck, feeling a little embarrassed having been called out for it. ‘’And my mother is pretty. She calls them ‘beauty marks’, not ‘moles’.’’ ‘’Then what does she say about your big ears? They’re as red as coral.’’ ‘’She says—‘’ ‘’That you have a face only a mother can love, that’s what she says.’’ SpongeBob sighed. ‘’Are you through?’’ ‘’Not quite. Don’t get me started on your Adam’s apple. And your red eyebrows clash with your blonde hair. How in the world did that ever happen? Is that a pimple on your chin?’’ Calmly, SpongeBob questioned, ‘’How long have you been scrutinizing me to pick up on all these detailed observations?’’ ‘’Long enough,’’ was Squidward’s blunt answer. At this point, SpongeBob didn’t care if he was deprived of sleep. Maybe it was making him crazy, but SpongeBob also felt that Squidward was awake enough to know what he was saying. ‘’Now I’m in desperate requirement of eye bleach, speaking of which, have you seen it laying around somewhere?’’ In a Suffolk accent, or at least the best one SpongeBob could muster, he smugly said, ‘’Check up your arse, I’m sure it finds the view just lovely.’’ Squidward looked at him sideways, and surprised SpongeBob by not scowling, but smiling. Yes, smiling. Maybe he cracked. Gosh, he really needed to go lie down. ‘’Arse?’’ he echoed softly. ‘’I say ‘ass’, love.’’ (The ‘love’ here was clearly farce, not meant to be a term of fondness.) ‘’I’m not that English,’’ Squidward added. True, he had been living here long enough. ‘’So tell me,’’ SpongeBob queried, ‘’Is there any part of me that doesn’t need help?’’ ‘’Hm,’’ Squidward chewed on the tip of his pencil, thoughtfully. Even in his drowsy state, he loved a challenge. ‘’Your nose is alright, I suppose,’’ came his honest reply. ‘’Not too prominent, not too small. Just right.’’ SpongeBob let out a sigh of relief. Finally, a compliment and not a remark of— ‘’Except it does looks better on the right profile,’’ Squidward broke into his thoughts. ‘’Your left nostril curves down at a the most unusual angle—‘’ Geez, couldn’t Squidward come off his high sea horse already? ‘’Would it kill you not to get so obsessively analytical?’’ SpongeBob retaliated. ‘’I mean, you’re worse than Sandy.’’ And maybe, SpongeBob thought, that’s why he respected her, but he couldn’t be for certain. ‘’I know you’re an artist and all, but you make it sound like I’m a table. I’m made of flesh and blood, not wood. I’m sorry I’m not perfect—‘’ ‘’I never said that,’’ Squidward protested. ‘’All I said was that you’re little on the strange side.’’ SpongeBob rolled his eyes, not without a little grin. ‘’But Sandy’s just ideal.’’ ‘’SpongeBob, she’s a woman, of course she is.’’ ‘’What’s that got to do with it?’’ SpongeBob grumbled, and then it suddenly dawned on him. Of course, why else would Squidward— SpongeBob grinned wider, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. ‘’You fancy her or something?’’ As he predicted, Squidward’s face turned the deepest shade of red SpongeBob ever thought possible in a man who’s face was usually so colorless. When Squidward saw SpongeBob smirking ear to ear, he snapped, ‘’Will you get your mind out of the gutter? I wouldn’t dream of liking her if she were Adam and I was Eee — er- I- I mean, if s-she were Eve and I-I was...’’ SpongeBob grinned even wider, so wide, Squidward feared the boy’s face would split wide open. ‘’Will you desist in looking at me like that?!’’ Squidward demanded, trying, at all odds, to control his stutter. The complexion of his face had turned from beet red to an eggplant purple and he had to wipe the tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow with his handkerchief. ‘’No, that’s not it, but well, the female form is different, that’s all.’’ SpongeBob could tell he didn’t want to discuss Sandy—and her femininity—any further, but as Squidward delivered those words, at that exact moment, SpongeBob let his eyes wander around Squidward’s studio, and they rested on one of his marble statues—of a male nude, censored only by a mere seashell where his family jewels would be. Then he let his eyes trail over the other displayed pieces, both finished and works in progress. SpongeBob noticed a curious reoccurring theme in all his paintings, sketches, sculptures, etc. Most were self-portraits yes, but the few that weren’t still contained a male subject, usually nude. SpongeBob couldn’t help but wonder, if what Squidward said was true about the female form reigning supreme, how come she was absent in Squidward’s oeuvre? And as much as the artist treasured his late mother, Squidward didn’t even seem to possess one portrait of her (unless SpongeBob accidentally misgendered the painting on that far wall, that he felt positive was Squidward but he could be mistaken. After all, Squidward did look an awful lot like his mother). ‘’And yet,’’ SpongeBob pointed out, although he didn’t meant to say it out loud, ‘’If the female form were so ‘perfect’, as you claim, how come, in all your years of producing art, you’ve never once painted or sculpted a woman?’’ The sound of Squidward’s pencil, still in his mouth, snapping in two, startled them both. ‘’What are you accusing me of?’’ Squidward provoked. He sounded more frightened than upset, for his face turned whiter than SpongeBob’s socks. ‘’I’m not accusing you of anything,’’ SpongeBob responded. He really wasn’t. It was just a candid observation. ‘’I mean, it’s just something I noticed. It’s not a bad thing, Squidward. I mean, some of the world’s most renowned masters only painted men...sometimes both. It didn’t mean anything. I mean, Michelangelo—‘’ ‘’Was in the closet.’’ Squidward said quietly. ‘’What? No, we don’t know that. He was a devout Catholic.’’ ‘’So?’’ ‘’So, his art didn’t say anything about his sexuality. And anyway, ‘queer’ meant something different in the sixteenth century than it does now.’’ ‘’He wrote love sonnets to a 23-year-old he meant when he was fifty-seven.’’ ‘’Sure, but even if he was, historians say he was so melancholy and reclusive that his love life wouldn’t have been very physical. He could express himself through poetry, that’s all. Maybe people read too much into it.’’ When Squidward didn’t look convinced, SpongeBob tried again. ‘’Da Vinci—‘’ ‘’Was accused of sodomy at twenty-four with a notorious male prostitute. It’s also speculated that his young male apprentice who lived with him for over twenty years was probably his lover. In fact, he surrounded himself with beautiful young male assistants.’’ ‘’There weren’t any witnesses. Besides, people were always making anonymous sodomite charges like that during the Renaissance. Didn’t mean they were true.’’ ‘’He never had any known historically documented relationships with women, he never married, never had any children—‘’ ‘’Hey, there’s nothing bad about that.’’ ‘’ — he wrote in his notebooks that male-female intercourse disgusted him—‘’ ‘’Yet he drew anatomical studies of both genders.’’ ‘’Paying more attention to the male anatomy.’’ ‘’Squidward, stop! You’re missing the point.’’ Squidward flashed a cold gaze in his direction. ‘’No, I think you made your point.’’ ‘’No, look! Um...’’ and SpongeBob had to think of one painter who wasn’t gay or rumored to be gay. ‘’Francisco De Goya.’’ ‘’What about him?’’ Squidward moaned. ‘’He painted lots of guys. And women, too.’’ ‘’Not male nudes, SpongeBob, only women, and anyway he was a court painter, often commissioned by the royal family to paint their portraits, the King, Queen, their children, whoever.’’ ‘’Yeah, but you forget when he started painting the Peninsular War—‘’ ‘’I didn’t forget,’’ Squidward groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. ‘’—soldiers and people getting killed. Mostly guys.’’ ‘’Political art. Again, not nudes.’’ ‘’I wasn’t just talking about nudes.’’ ‘’Would it humor you if I said—‘’ ‘’Ugh!’’ SpongeBob threw up his hands. ‘’Don’t say it! Look, everyone and their grandmother is speculated to be gay, alright? What the heck do people know? Someone writes a letter or something to someone: ‘I like you so much, we suit each other so well, gee come see me sometime, let’s hang out, man, take a thousand embraces! Let me draw a penis at the end of this letter while I’m at it!’ Oh my goodness, he must be gay. If they were, big deal, but who cares about the sex lives of some old dead guys?’’ Squidward blinked, quietly listening to SpongeBob’s theatrical display, then said, ‘’Yet funny how you brought Da Vinci and Michelangelo into the conversation first. You could have at least mentioned Van Gogh, because although it’s rumored he had stormy love affairs with men, too, at one point, I’d be willing to agree with you because at least like him, the body of my male work contains self portraits, a fact you fail to realize.’’ No, SpongeBob hadn’t dismissed this. ‘’Squid,’’ he said, ‘’You’re taking this too far, all I said was—‘’ Squidward strode back to his easel, gripping his broken pencil in both hands. ‘’No, this conversation’s over. All the Old Masters were gay, rest your case, I get it. Gee, why doesn’t Squidward paint a woman for once? I’m not going to answer that. Maybe someday I will. Maybe I already have and you just don’t know it. Maybe my masterpiece will be a portrait of Sandy, geez, I dunno, SpongeBob. And believe me, I wouldn’t be sculpting you unless the Mayor hadn’t commissioned me in the first place. Do you think I’m enjoying this? No, it’s the worst assignment I’ve ever gotten. I wouldn’t paint you or sculpt you if you were the last person on Earth!’’ He threw down his pencil, which was now useless. But his fury dissipated quickly. He was just too fatigued to stay mad or really give an honest damn, and calmly he said, ‘’But if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right. So you’re just going to sit there like a good little boy and not move a finger and I don’t want to hear a peep out of you, got it?’’ SpongeBob obediently nodded but Squidward misinterpreted this as insolent and affixed, ‘’Look, I don’t like it anymore than you, but might as well get this over with. We’ve already wasted precious time flapping our jaws about trivial topics. The Mayor wants this done by Friday. I can finish the preliminary sketches tonight if you just cooperate.’’ SpongeBob remained as still and as quiet as a mouse while Squidward prepared. After awhile, Squidward muttered, ‘’I’d change those shabby clothes of yours if I had a choice but the Mayor wanted you in the same tattered outfit you climbed that mountain in.’’ SpongeBob didn’t say anything. He just stared ahead of him, finding some spot of interest on the wall, which wasn’t much to look at, but he refused to make eye contact with Squidward, who eventually grew bored of the silence. ‘’You can talk if you want, just don’t move your head,’’ he invited, but SpongeBob had nothing to say. Squidward didn’t ask him again after that. The only sound that broke the silence was the loud sketching of Squidward’s pencil scraping against his canvas pad. An hour or two passed before SpongeBob did think of something to say. He was vaguely reminded of the act he put on in the Mayor’s office yesterday when she perceived him as immature. ‘’When did your parents stop treating you like a kid?’’ Squidward didn’t hesitate to answer, nor did he ask why SpongeBob brought it up. Without removing his eyes from his easel, he replied, dryly, ‘’When my father left, and my mother died.’’ SpongeBob felt a pain of pity tearing at his insides. He was sorry he asked. He decided to keep his thoughts to himself and left Squidward alone to work through the uncomfortable silence. He worked through the afternoon until he had enough grand designs prepared. SpongeBob arched his spine, growing fidgety from the pain in his back for having to sit up straight for so long, and Squidward relieved him by saying, ‘’Alright, you’re free to go.’’ Finally! SpongeBob stretched his muscles, glad to be able to move again. ‘’You’re done?’’ He rubbed his neck, which was now sore and didn’t even notice that Squidward had approached him. ‘’Yeah. You can go home,’’ Squidward answered. ‘’Can I see?’’ SpongeBob eagerly crossed his legs, trying to look as cute as possible so that Squidward would unveil his rough work. It didn’t move him in the slightest. ‘’Nice try,’’ Squidward shook his head. ‘’Maybe tomorrow. I’d rather you not look yet.’’ SpongeBob pouted, but he crossed his fingers, hoping he would have something to look forward to the next day. As he was about to jump off his stool, the most peculiar thing happened. He felt Squidward bend down slightly and kiss him very delicately on the cheek. SpongeBob didn’t know why but he supposed it was Squidward’s way of apologizing which he readily accepted. ‘’You’re still ugly, except for your nose,’’ he heard Squidward say, but SpongeBob knew what he really meant was, ‘’I’m sorry for being so tough on you.’’ SpongeBob shrugged with a grin. ‘’It’s okay, Squid, I’m used to it. And I want you to know I didn’t mean you were Michelangelo.’’ Squidward smirked. ‘’Why not? He was a great painter and sculptor. I’m honored you compare me to him, gay or not.’’ SpongeBob shook his head. ‘’You’re more like Van Gogh.’’ ‘’Not yet. I still got both ears,’’ and with that Squidward nudged him off the stool and playfully shoved him to the door. On SpongeBob’s way out though, Squidward caught him around the back of his neck and whispered in his ear, ‘’Maybe next time I’ll paint you naked like Raphael’s cherubs.’’ SpongeBob’s whole face from his neck to his ears glowed like a fire but then Squidward laughed and slapped him on the back. ‘’I’m just kidding!’’ and before SpongeBob could turn to look at him, he felt Squidward push him out the door, which closed behind him with a thud. He stood in shock on Squidward’s stoop for a few moments before he slowly walked home. He wish he could say whether Squidward was only joking or not, but he knew Squidward was not one to lead him on. If he said he was kidding, he probably meant it. As SpongeBob turned the handle on his door, he stopped as a smirk crept onto his lips. Who knows? Maybe Squidward wasn’t kidding after all. Fin

#my fanfiction #the spongebob musical #squidbob #spongebob

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