#this is absolute garbage

It's just better if you don't think about it.

Don't think about the way Hisoka’s arms flex around your head as he cages you against the wall of the alleyway.

Don't think about the way that his body feels as he presses himself up against you, his hot breath fanning against your cheek as you turn your head to avoid his lips.

His hands feel rough when he grabs your face, forcing your head straight into a bruising kiss. Don’t think about the way your body betrays you as desire begins to pool when his grip on your jaw moves to your neck; the way he smirks into your mouth at the whimper that escapes you, his other hand slipping under your shirt to grope at your chest.

It’s better to obey him when he tells you to not make a sound, teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh of your neck as he marks you. Don’t think about the jolt of sick pleasure that gets sent straight to your core when he bites down hard enough to draw blood, his tongue licking up the beads of red that flow from the wound.

Don’t think about how unbelievably hot he looks when he gives you his signature grin, the red staining his teeth making the gold of his irises that much more intense. His grip becomes more possessive at the tears that well up in your eyes. You don’t know if it’s from the fear or the anticipation.

When he commands you to get on your knees, it’s best not to think about how the pavement digs into your skin. He pinches your jaw to force it open as he shoves his cock into your mouth. Don’t think about the way his hands fist in your hair as he hits the back of your throat making you gag, the tears finally spilling over.

Definitely don’t think about the way his moans get louder as he continues to fuck your face, your drool pooling out of your mouth down his length, dripping onto your chest. It’s best to just obey when he tells you to swallow around him and to ignore how your throat is becoming sore from how harsh his thrusts are.

Don’t resist as he pulls you off his cock and drags you to your feet, shoving you back against the wall. Don’t think about his hand as it drags up your thigh and rubs against your clothed cunt. It’s hard to ignore the comments he makes on how wet you are for him. How you must have been wanting him to manhandle you like this based on how you’re practically dripping all over his hand.

Don’t think about how you didn’t even know him before this encounter as he rips your clothes from your body.

He slides his fingers against your slick folds; his eyes never leaving yours as he presses two fingers inside of you, your body flinching at the forced entry.

Hisoka's other hand tightens around your neck once again as you bite back your moans. It’s better to just nod when he asks if you’re going to be a good girl for him as the lewd sounds of his fingers slipping in and out of your squelching cunt echo through the alley.

Don’t think about how you whine when he suddenly withdraws his hand from you core, and definitely don’t think about the way your breath hitches into a chocked sob when you feel him hook one of your legs around his waist and shove his cock into your sopping wet cut, making you thrash against him at the intrusion.

Oh god, don’t think about how good it feels when his cock drags along your walls, his hips angling each thrust to hit that spongy spot inside of you that makes you cry out in breathless moans every time. The way he makes you clench around him when he licks a stripe up your neck to your ear, growling that you belong to him. Your body, your mind, your soul. All of it his, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Let your eyes roll back into your head when he brings a hand down to circle your clit, his back breaking pace never wavering as he continues to slam into your needy cunt. Don’t think about the orgasm that had been threatening to wash over you finally start to bubble to the surface.

Don’t think about the way he hisses from the way you tighten even more around him, the bites he leaves on your neck as he tells you to give in to the pleasure; lifting your leg higher in order to penetrate you deeper.

Don’t think.

Just feel.

Spot walks into his room.

And immediately groans. "I'm rooming with you?" He questions.

Jack looks up at him, a smirk appearing on his face. "Don't look too annoyed, Conlon. At least your roommate is hot."

Spot rolls his eyes, placing his bag on the floor. "I wouldn't go that far, Kelly." He looks him up and down. "Though, You're not that bad looking," he mutters.

A small bit of blush appeared on Jack's face, but he smirks. "What brings you to 'the World High School'?" He asks, making a sarcastic gesture with his hands at the school name.

Spot shoots him a look, sitting down in a chair next to a desk on his side of the room. "I'm pretty sure you know." He responds.

There was a fire at Spot's school, the Sun High School.

That was the way to put it bluntly.

Basically, some idiot had set part of it on fire, so the students and certain teachers were sent to the World High School for a few months until they could go back.

They were all assigned roommates with kids who went to the World High School, and Spot was stuck with Jack.

"Ohhh, right." Jack looks up at him. "The school caught on fire cause you're too smoking hot." He winks.

Spot felt his face heat up. He gets up. "I know I'm hot." He smirks at Jack, winking, and the walks out the door.

Jack's mouth falls open, gaping at Spot, his cheeks dusted with blush.

Oh, it is so on, Conlon.

~little time skip to later that day~

Jack walks over to Spot and his group.

"I swear I'm rooming with Jack Kel-" he heard Spot telling them, annoyed.

"You make that seem like a horrible thing." Jack comments, holding his books in one hand.

Spot whips around, immediately noticing Jack's smirk.

He glares at him. "You're just everywhere, aren't you , Kelly?" He questions.

Jack smirks, "Only wherever you are." He responds.

Spot glares at him even more, ignoring the blush creeping up his neck.

"Do us all a favor and kiss." Hotshot enters their conversation from behind Spot.

Spot turns to face him, his eyes wide.

Jack's smirk only grew wider. "I wouldn't mind it." He responds.

"No, no." Spot shakes his head, shutting down the idea. "Absolutely not."

Jack just chuckles.

"You know what," Spot starts, grabbing his bag. "I'm leaving."

With that he walks off. (wow what a drama queen)

"What's up with him?" Jack asks, knowing full well that Spot could still hear him. "I was just expressing my love like Romeo tells me to do."

He heard grumbled curses from Spot. And he chuckles.

Ace looks him up and down. "You've fallen hard." He mutters. "Don't hurt him." He pulls out his blade, pointing it at Jack.

Jack's eyes widen. "I'd never." He responds, his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

Ace nods, flipping the blade closed and putting it away.

Jack exhales slowly.

He turns and walks the opposite way that Spot had.

~another little time skip~

Jack and Spot were in their room, sitting in silence.

Jack was working on an art piece, one of his earbuds in his left ear and the other hanging by his table.

Spot was doing homework, English homework.

Spot grumbles, pulling his hair in annoyance. "What the heck are the seven common types of poems?" He mutters.

"Poetry unit?" Jack asks, his eyes fixated on his drawing as he sketched the eyes out.

"Yeah." Spot grumbles. "Stupid poetry unit."

"The seven common types of poems are Haiku poems, Free verse poems, Cinquains, Epic poems, Ballad poems, Acrostic poems, and Sonnets." Jack informs him.

Spot looks at him. "Never took you as one to pay attention in class." He comments.

"Was going to be kicked out of my Arts classes if I didn't pass." Jack mutters in response, still focused on his drawing.

Spot nods, writing the kinds of poems down.

After a minute, he speaks up again. "And there are 50 types of poems?" He asks, checking to make sure.

"Yup." Jack answers, subconsciously popping the 'p'.

"Thanks." Spot mutters, writing the answer down. "You like art?" He asks.

"Yeah." Jack answers, his back turned to Spot's back. "It's kinda like my stress relief." He explains.

Spot nods. "Race says you're good at it." He says softly.

"You never realize Race talks good about you until you're not listening." Jack comments.

Spot nods.

"He's exaggerating a bit though." Jack adds. "He thinks my art is so much better than it is." He tells Spot.

"I'm sure he's not exaggerating." Spot responds, slipping his English homework into his folder and closing it.

Jack finally looks away from is drawing, turning to face Spot. "You're a lot nicer and calmer right now." He points out.

"It's the coffee wearing off." Spot responds, leaning back in his chair. "Don't get used to it."

Jack chuckles. "Got it."

Jack grabs his sketch book, facing Spot as he continues drawing.

Spot just played games on his phone.

However, he couldn't help but steal a few glances at Jack every so often.

And by 'a few', he meant a lot, and by 'every so often', he meant every other second.

Jack notices after a few minutes. "See something you like, Conlon?" He asks. "You're looking at me the same way that I look at pieces of art in an art museum."

Spot may or may not have zoned out while staring at Jack.

Spot shakes himself out of it, blushing a bit. "Maybe I do." He responds, sitting up. "What are you going to do about it?" He questions.

Jack chuckles, standing up.

Spot stands up as well.

Jack steps towards Spot, causing Spot's heart to speed up.

He gently lifts Spot's chin. "Your'e quite cute, you know that?" He asks.

"May have been told a few times." Spot answers quietly, his confidence from earlier seemingly drained out of his body. "Why?" He asks.

Jack laughs. "Cause I feel myself more drawn to you every time I see you." He whispers, his thumb gently running across Spot's bottom lip.

Spot blushes. "Well, why don't you do something about it?" He asks quietly.

Jack laughed again, gently pulling Spot into a kiss.

Spot't eyes closed on their won, his mind getting lost in the kiss.

They pull away.

Spot's face was flushed and he looked awed.

Jack's face had a bit of blush, but not as much as Spot did.

Jack chuckles when he sees Spot, pulling away.

Spot felt a loss when Jack left him.

He watches Jack sit back down in his chair.

Spot sits down in his chair, laying his head on the desk as he tries to process what just happened.

Then, he noticed a picture that hadn't been there before.

It was a drawing of him.

Spot's eyes widen, his face turning red as he looks back at Jack.

Jack was playing on his phone, not looking at Spot, but there was still an unmistakable smirk on his face.

Spot blushes, looking back at the drawing.