mirroring all the time

03/22/17

“In all the panic of escaping Earth, I was left behind. And there I stayed. Freedom in my sight, but out of reach for ages…”

This drawing took way too long for me to finish but at least it’s finally done! Not perfect, but I’m happy with it c:

Lingerie (SugaKookie)

AN: This is a little fic I whipped up for @suga-peaches today while I was on my break between classes~ (a new trend, apparently, considering the short Taehyung fic I wrote last Wednesday while on the same break lmao) 

For anyone on tumblr who doesn’t follow me on AO3, here it is~

Words: 1,072


There are certain signs—certain actions and expressions that let Yoongi know Jungkook is feeling anxious. Before concerts he covers it up by bouncing around—smacking butts and breathing deep, mentally preparing himself for what’s about to come. Even years in stage fright still gets to all of them from time to time, but they have their own ways of handling it.

And then there are times where Jungkook’s anxiety rests under the surface. He gets quiet—thinking too much, mirroring the shy boy his hyungs met all that time ago, too afraid to speak what’s on his mind. But the hyungs have learned, and during those times one of them usually sits next to him, hugging him and comforting him quietly, allowing him to speak his mind if he feels like it, and distracting him with little stories if he doesn’t.

And then there’s the third kind of anxious. The kind that Yoongi, personally, is the most familiar with. The kind that has Jungkook’s leg bouncing or toes wiggling. The kind that has is face eerily blank, yet concentrated. The signs are usually so minimal that most of his hyungs don’t even notice. But Yoongi notices—because he knows his boy well. He knows when Jungkook’s mind is running rampant, straying to topics that, if any of his hyungs ask, have his ears turning red even as he responds calmly.

Right now, Jungkook is the third kind of anxious, and Yoongi watches the maknae from the doorframe of the kitchen, coffee mug pressed to his lips as he side-eyes the brown haired boy. Whatever Jungkook is looking at, it’s got him riled up—and more so than usual. He’s seated on the couch, phone illuminating his face and his bottom lips gently caught between his teeth. His cheeks are pink, feet tucked on the couch beside him and rubbing against the fabric methodically.

Humming quietly, lips quirking as endearment pricks at Yoongi’s heart, the elder male turns to fully regard the younger, moving the mug to rest warmly between his palms. Jungkook jumps at the little sound, bottom lip slipping from between his teeth. His eyes flit up to meet Yoongi’s stare, cheeks deepening when it occurs to him that Yoongi had likely been watching him for some time now. He’d been so immersed that he’d nearly forgotten the rapper’s presence amongst the silence of the dorm—the other boys out catching a drink together.

“What are you looking at, hmm?” Yoongi questions, taking a small step forward, and even the smallest advance has Jungkook’s gaze widening, the shade of his cheeks melting deeper.

“I…,” he begins hesitantly, toes curling and uncurling. “Earlier I was on Instagram and stumbled across some accounts…and…”

“What kind of accounts, baby?” Yoongi questions calmly, yet the pet name has Jungkook shivering, his muscles flexing instinctively.

“They’re, ah…l-lingerie accounts?” he responds, not sounding too sure of himself, embarrassment eating at him. At that, Yoongi pauses in his slow advances, brows raising in surprise, yet he continues to listen as Jungkook rambles on.

“They’ve got all sorts of cute, lacy shit on them, a-and I know that they’re for girls but—but I started thinking of you,” Jungkook breathes, flushing deeper, and Yoongi feels his neck heat up as well. Fuck, Jungkook always tells Yoongi that’s he’s pretty but…Yoongi gulps. Him wearing some kind of scandalous, frilly piece of lingerie for Jungkook? Shit—

“And then I s-started thinking of if you’d like it on me and I–,” Jungkook continues, but that statement alone has Yoongi’s mind soaring straight into hell. He imagines Jungkook laid out before him, dressed up prettily. So soft and vulnerable—blushing head to toe…

“Kookie,” Yoongi breathes, breaking out of his thoughts. His gaze meets Jungkook’s, and the boy is on the brink of tears, pressed onto his knees, phone gripped tightly in his palm and his hands fidgeting in his lap.

Moving forward, Yoongi presses a knee into the couch cushion and immediately cages Jungkook in, his finger curling under the younger’s chin. And Jungkook doesn’t resist, his head obediently angling to the side as Yoongi leans down to nip at the nearly invisible marks that are already peppering Jungkook’s neck.

“You want me to dress you up in cute lingerie like that, don’t you baby?” Yoongi whispers, free hand cupping Jungkook’s ribs, his thumb teasingly ghosting over one of the maknae’s sensitive nipple. Jungkook gasps, his even breaths quickening, and Yoongi continues.

“Imagine how good you’d look for me. Those fucking quads, and your pecks, fuck–,” Yoongi growls, the imagery assaulting his mind. He laps his tongue over the fresh blotches on Jungkook’s neck, soaking in the maknae’s shaky breaths and short, needy whines. And, it doesn’t take more than Yoongi slipping his hand under Jungkook’s shirt, the digits previously gripping his chin moving to press sternly into Jungkook’s throat, for Jungkook’s chest to shake—a sob sneaking past his parted lips.

“Shit,” Yoongi curses at the sound, nails lightly digging into the skin of Jungkook’s torso. He’s made Jungkook cry before, considering the younger doesn’t take well to teasing, denial, or overstimulation (though he loves all three, Yoongi will argue)—but never has Jungkook been brought to tears this fast. And all because he’d been imagining Yoongi dressing him up in cute little lingerie, of all things.

“H-Hyung, please,” Jungkook begs, hiccupping when Yoongi flicks his nipple, his entire body jumping at the feeling.

“Please what?”

“We need—I mean—fuck—”

“You want me to buy some lingerie to dress you up in, baby boy?”

Please,” Jungkook groans, biting his lip as more tears well in his eyes. Yoongi moves to kiss him, groaning into the younger’s mouth. Jungkook reciprocates, reaching up to tug Yoongi close. However, before Yoongi can say anything else—make any promises—his phone buzzes loudly in his pocket. Eyes sliding open, he continues kissing Jungkook even as he removes his hand from beneath the maknae’s shirt, his fingers snagging his phone from his pants.

It’s a text from J-Hope. They’d just left the bar. Fuck.

Kisses softening, Jungkook whines in disappointment, still very much hot and bothered.

“The others will be back soon, we can’t tonight,” Yoongi tells him, mouth setting in a sympathetic frown. If only he’d already thought to buy some lingerie for his cute little Kookie…dammit. But—, “I’ll look into it though, for next time. That I promise.”

anonymous asked:

What would be your perfect gintama ending?

Everyone achieving peace, happiness, and good health – all that jazz.

I haven’t thought too deeply on their futures except for what I use in fan fic. I know everyone’s scared to death of it ending like Bleach and Naruto, but I doubt Sorachi will go that route. If anything, he’ll poke fun at such endings through jokes and gags, as usual.

I mainly want to see everything go back to relative normalcy. The Amanto aren’t going to go away and the government is shifting in new directions all the time. Considering how the timeline of Gintama mirrors (but not exactly) real history in different ways, we know there will be some significant changes in certain characters’ lives. Nevertheless, with life changing as it inevitably does, I hope that everyone will be able to find a purpose in life, whether it’s fighting for social and political change, protecting the people, doing odd jobs, or simply living with a true smile on their face in spite of past hardships.

I’m sure Sorachi will come up with a great ending. I also hope that the Yorozuya will be on the last page – to end, more or less, as they began.

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.
Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.