#All the characters are so charming and lovable too

[octtinkk]

Just watched the first episode of Epithet Erased.

This series is the most whimsical funny thing. The music and animation is great, and I love the entire concept of an epithet as a power. Definitely gonna make an Oc when I’ve watched all the episodes.

[simpjaes]

ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT.1 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part two here!! | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT ― 20.4k

CONTENT ―  modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS―  jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor 

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring 

NOTE ― here is part one of the first vampire fic i've ever felt compelled to write in my life. shout out to me, myself, and i for being entirely deranged and coming up with on a whim based on a song a lovely anon sent to me. this is semi-proof read, and does require two parts to get the full story.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him, 

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Upon moving to this city, all you have in your mind is the future. Of what could possibly come of you here? The museum is truly beautiful, propped in the center of the historic district, a mere ten or so blocks from your newly renovated apartment. 

Years worth of study has led you here and honestly you’re sure you never would have found this city as lovable as it is if it weren’t for those credit hours you poured into art history and architecture. Truly, you feel at home here. Especially working within the historic district at that beautiful museum. 

The rest of the city is quite modern. A bit boring to look at if you’re being honest but, thankfully, your place of work offers much for the eye to devour. The museum itself is quite victorian, with rococo styling throughout. Many could call this an eye sore, but you find yourself loving every inch of the place. You feel like a willow wisp in the clutches of that museum, and honestly you’re more than excited to grow bored of seeing such beauty on a day to day basis. 

Across the street sits another old building, also victorian in style. The large and tacky sign glowing with neon lights that reads “AFTER LIFE” goes to show that it’s very clearly a club. And the attire of those who go to and fro through the doors only further proves that it’s more than just that. It’s a goth club. 

Which, arguably, high-school you would’ve died to be able to attend. Thankfully, that little goth girl inside of you still lives strong and surely the club will be a place you’ll frequent during your free time. It’s not too hard to dress the part considering you are an art loser. The majority of your clothing consists of black, colored hair, and wild make up anyway. All you gotta do is forego the ratty coveralls or the typical business quirky you go for at work and you’re good to go. 

Last but not least regarding the charm of the historic district, your favorite site. One that is so profound to you and likely everyone else who visits this town mostly because, well, there isn’t much mention of it on any website regarding the city. In fact, you weren’t aware that such a place existed here until the day you came to view your apartment for the first time. 

Seeing it loom from the apartment window very nearly had you sign the lease without so much as looking at the cabinet space or the bathroom setup. 

No, nothing in that historic district, absolutely nothing in this city, rivals that of the cathedral that towers above both the club and museum. 

There, parked just three blocks down from your place of work, sits the cathedral. Clearly old but well maintained, you can just tell that the building has seen more than enough through the passing decades. The arches are pointed and towering, and the flying buttresses only further your heart to beat with love and admiration for what men could build at one point in time. 

You’ll never understand why the preferred style these days consists of primary shapes, anyway. Boxes, cones, spheres. Never twisting hallways or nooks and crannies to hide in. You miss the depth of which buildings used to be. Inside practically a maze, outside a wondrous presentation of knife-sharp features. So intricate, so many lines to trace.

What a shame to find yourself living in a space that’s a mish-mash of perfect boxes, but it’s not so bad when the window offers a daydream, at least. 

You’re in love each time you gaze upon the building, actually. It’s a forever reminder that no human being on this earth could make you feel such excitement. Perhaps you’re just a nerd for gothic architecture though. Honestly, it’s a shame that this cathedral seems to be a forgotten gem despite how it’s blatantly visible at almost any view point in the city. 

Fortunately for you, this only goes to show that the historic district is just that. There for those who admire, and not for those who gawk. There seems to be rarely any stray humans making their way down this street without at least an inkling of interest in the ancient life that’s been breathed here. 

If anything, the streets are filled with what you can assume to be open-minded individuals. Your first day at work showed that much. Tattooed bodies, pierced faces, wild hair, even wilder attire. Yes, you feel right at home. 

And despite the excitement of living in a new city where you seem to fit like a puzzle piece, life can still grow boring after a certain amount of time has passed. For you, it’s taken about three weeks of training, well-slept nights, and cozy days. 

Even through the summer, the nights still have a chill in the air. Which is nice but even your night-time walks have become an auto-pilot task that offers nothing new to your forever hungry brain. So, with the weekend fast approaching, you figure there’s no better time than now to dust off those hot platform boots you bought on a whim years ago and have yet to wear. 

You’re going to the booming “after life”. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well.

“After life” is certainly a perfect name for the club if the intensity of the drinks alone is anything to go by. Inside is adorned with stark black walls and silver trim, loads upon loads of purple and red curtains, women and men near-nude wrapped in straps and chains. 

It only took two drinks to see the black painted walls as a beautiful void in space with wonderful dancing bodies falling into it. You can’t stop smiling through the warmth in your cheeks and dancing to deep bass with husky voiced music. Your arms stay in the air as you dance, and you welcome any dancing partner up until your third drink. 

God, the drinks are strong. Or perhaps it’s just the specific drink you’ve grown partial to. One they call “Red Death”, which according to the handsome bartender, was quite popular in the 90s. You see exactly why it was so popular, considering it basically hit you like a fucking truck in the middle of this club and has you stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering why your feet are moving in the first place. 

Unsure of how much time has passed since you got here, you nearly forget the extra five inches under your feet as you stumble your way through the heavy doors in front of the club. A kind bouncer with the whites of his eyes tattooed helps you with your balance as you step out, chuckling and noting that you’re definitely new here.

His strong hold on you is kind and gentle compared to the bouncers outside of the clubs back home, and despite how drunk you are, you still feel as safe as you do inside of your own apartment when he gives you a small “woah there.”

Thankfully, he keeps to himself after helping you regain balance, once again unlike most bouncers at clubs. You’re left to your own drunken plans now as you wobble around the building in search of a bench to sit on and sober up. Thankfully, that very bench is found sitting lonely on the backside of the building. You can still hear the muffled music from inside, but you’re currently spinning and able to hear just about anything, you think. 

You hear your ass thump to the ground when you try to take a seat, missing the bench completely and falling a full two feet with your head hitting the bricked wall behind you. 

Honestly, all you can do is laugh at yourself as you hold your head. The fall didn’t hurt, and thank fuck no one is around to have witnessed that from you. To think your senses are enhanced at this moment is quite a feat, considering you were so focused on hearing everything that you completely forgot to determine which of the two benches in your drunken vision was the real one.

And as you accept your seat on the ground as the space you’ll sober up in, your senses prove yet again to at least be slightly more amplified than usual. 

A heavy scent of cinnamon wafts through your nose as you breathe in the brisk summer air and immediately you try to adjust your eyes to whatever the scent is coming from. Or, whoever.

Then, a cold hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even see him before smelling or feeling him, but somehow, your vision adjusts immediately as if you’re not drunk at all.

In fact, looking at the man is entirely sobering. 

“Child, temptation has you by the throat.”

“I’m no child.” You scoff at the voice reaching your ears, frustrated as you try to chase the fizzling drunk feeling. A waste of money, you could say, to lose the dizzy feeling so fucking fast. 

The man stands in front of you, clad in black, offering a gentle smile. 

You can imagine you look a mess, sitting on the ground outside of a night club, but that should be expected you’d think. 

“It’s a figure of speech.” The man shrugs with a chuckle. “Now, now. Allow me to help you, my dear, you are in no shape to be left to your own devices.”

You look up at him, noting that the man appears to be a priest. What kind of priest wanders around goth clubs this time of the night? 

Then again, you don’t even know what time it is. What you do know is that you’re nearly entirely sober now for some fucking reason, and you absolutely can be left to your own devices. 

“No, I’m fine. I don’t live too far.” You shake your head at him, but he pulls you up anyway. 

Oh, a rush of woozy nausea. Your ankles buckle immediately upon trying to stand and the man simply keeps his smile aimed at you. 

“My conscience will not allow me to leave you be.” He says, taking your arm and leading you further down the street.

You’re unsure as to why you don’t fight him on it now. There’s a feeling in your body that tells you to go with him, and who are you to fight it? 

Strangely enough, your eyes sparkle as he leads you straight to that very cathedral that floods your thoughts on most weekdays during work. So big, so beautiful, so otherworldly to see so closely. 

You stare up at the towering building even as he helps you through the doors, and then your eyes immediately adjust to the vaulted ceilings and darkened stained glass windows with only the moonlight shining through. 

God, it’s more beautiful inside. 

You’re entirely mesmerized by the building, blinking up at every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s pristine inside compared to the outside, and the floors shine so beautifully even in the low-light. Your boots stomp with each step against the well-maintained floors, to the point you can feel the vibrations running from your toes to the top of your head. 

You can feel your skin tighten at the viewing experience, every hair on your body raising in euphoria, pupils growing wide and dark. You smile, feeling your face flush as if you’ve got a man between your legs. There is no man though though, no. Just big arches and echoed footsteps.

It’s simply too beautiful to comprehend with a semi-drunken brain for the first time. 

The man saunters through the building with you in tow a bit too quickly than you’d prefer though. You try to soak in the image of the main chapel before he leads you away from it, and thankfully you caught a decent look at the gold and silver adornments surrounding a centered altar. The figure within the altar didn’t quite get more than a glance, but you could have sworn it was no religious figure that you know the name of. 

And then, within three blinks, you’re in a corridor where whispering nuns look on. Their voices sound high-pitched even in a whisper but it slows your heart rate down to that of near sleep. Drowsiness overtakes you as you blink out of sync, barely able to comprehend that you should be at home rather than in this wondrous and magnificent building with a strange priest. 

Still, even as the corridor grows less and less extravagant, where the stomping of your boots on the floor turns to that of breaking up dust and weighing down creaking wood, you find it all the more beautiful behind your heavy-lidded eyes.

The deeper into the cathedral you go, the older it becomes. Where electricity turns to candles, and then candles turn to pure moonlight shining through stained glass windows. 

Even up the spiraling concrete stairs, you feel your feet carry you more than the priest with his back turned to you. He wouldn’t need to lead you through this building at all, as the feeling in your gut would likely have you explore the place inch by inch if you were given the permission. 

Still, even while your mind is sober but your body is drunk, you find it hard to believe that people still reside here. Never once seeing anyone come from the cathedral since being in this city. And trust, you have honestly stared at it day after day during work. 

That means nothing to you now though, considering you’re inside the building, being led to a small room for sleep where your sleepy eyes devour the small bed against the wall.

The man who led you here lends no more words or thoughts to you as he steps inside, presents the room to you, and then quickly leaves with that same smile he gave you outside of the club. 

A nun replaces him with light and silent footsteps, running past you to fluff the flattened pillow on the bed. Another came in behind her with a small bowl of crackers and a glass of water. She holds out the bowl and glass, urging you to take them from her. 

Naturally, you do. Popping a cracker into your mouth and instantly feeling it soak up any saliva in your mouth, leaving it feeling dry and sore before you sip the water. And with a nod from the two nuns, they leave you be. 

This room appears to be that for refuge, surely for those the church takes in when they’re in need of a warm bed and some food. 

You smile, saying nothing as you sit down on the bed and place the glass and bowl on the small ledge by the window. There, you take off your boots and flop back without so much as sinking under the thin covers, and you fall asleep as if there’s nowhere else on this earth you’d rather be. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun feels warm against your face when you stir from your slumber. Your eyes feel heavy though, so you simply lay here and breathe in the strange heavy air. Your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of the bed beneath you. Stiff, hard, uncomfortable. Clearly, you’re not at home. 

And, well, that’s when the happenings of last night dawn on you. You can barely comprehend what the helpful priest looked like, better yet how long it took for your feet to carry you to this room.

When you open your eyes and squint to look out of the stained window, most of the city is distorted through the tinted colors, but you can tell that you’re quite high up in the building. Then again, the throbbing in your feet could have probably told you that. 

Still, sitting in this bed now feels much more uncomfortable than it did when you initially laid down. Your head pounds as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squinting around the room and trying to grasp your memory. 

The only thing you remember is the cold hand that guided you here and every beautiful inch of the cathedral. Which can only mean, you have no fucking idea how to get out of here.

Oh, the horror and embarrassment of needing to search for someone to help you leave feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Surely, if you’re silent with your feet, you can search the halls until you manage to find a back door, right? At least the route would be scenic and interesting if you can manage it.

And, well, you do try. Searching for a staircase the moment you leave your room simply because you know that the only way home is down at least a hundred steps. Strangely enough, your instincts seem to know exactly where to go. 

Somehow.

Your socked feet carry you straight downstairs and to the main cathedral. You weren’t necessarily expecting to find a room full of people upon entering the space either. After all, if it were Sunday perhaps you’d have to drag your hungover ass past a crowd participating in Sunday mass. 

Despite never seeing a soul enter this cathedral save for yourself and that priest. 

Weird, there are a few people with bowed heads sitting in the pews of the main chapel. All appear to be clad in black and gold, one or two others with silver. Not entirely cloaked but still incredibly eerie from behind as you look on with each silent foot step. 

And suddenly, your body freezes. 

There, at the center of the altar stands a stoic man. Posture so straight you could argue he is nothing but an ancient statue. Behind him, you note that there is an actual statue of a figure standing much the same, far too distant to make out the face of. 

Only for a moment do you recall glancing at the statue from the night before, noting how it resembled no god nor deity that you’re aware of. It doesn’t even resemble a human the longer you stare at it, actually.

Ah. Yes. The vibes in this cathedral are off. From your feet somehow knowing the place as if it’s your own home to the silent chapel bowing their heads to an even more silent man standing frozen in the center. If at all, you feel like you’ve been caught in a photo, stuck with your feet on this single tile with the front doors just out of your reach. 

That is, until one of those whispering nuns makes her way to you, tapping your shoulder with a nod and a very quiet, “Shall I see you out?” 

And she does, opening the large doors for you and closing them behind you without so much as a sound. 

Strange, because you remember the echo of those doors closing from the night before. But whatever, you guess, as you’re assaulted with the bright afternoon sun forcing your eyes to tear up. 

You take a step through the flash-bang of summer air, slowly adjusting your eyesight to the very museum you work at. Bustling with your co-workers who are made to work this weekend, you try to avoid being seen. After all, as a new employee, the last thing you need is to be perceived as a hungover mess while walking out of that weird fucking cathedral with nothing more than socked feet and a pair of stompers held against your chest.

And so, you make the short trek home, thankful for the walkable city but entirely unthankful for the charming weather your realtor promised for this time of the year. It’s fresher than you’d like for it to be outside today, the warm sun keeping you at a perfect temperature while the cold breeze offers a shiver here and there. 

You’re not sure why it pisses you off. It’s probably the headache that only pounds harder and harder with each step you take. 

Finally, you make it to your apartment. You feel cold when you step inside the lobby and make your way up. Somehow you feel even colder when find yourself at the window, gazing at the same cathedral you just spent the night in, looking hazy in the afternoon sun. 

It looms there in the city, with its elder rooted walls and pointed arches. Still so beautiful, still so mysterious, still so fucking luring. 

Even after sleeping there, and even after you felt the vibrations inside skew your comfort, it stands out not only in the city, but in your brain. With the modern city only forcing it to stick out like a sore thumb, you can argue that the city could be just as old and still that cathedral would offer a shiver down your spine. 

Your head pulses at the sunlight shining through your window, forcing your eyes from the darkened haunt, and you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to rummage for something to help with the headache. 

And by the time you flop down on your couch, you drift back to sleep, realizing that you’re not entirely sure if you slept at all the night before. Despite waking up, despite not remembering a thing from after you laid down, and despite feeling rejuvenated in every aspect aside from sleep. 

That rejuvenation strangely drains you more as you drift to sleep, finding it so unnatural that you willingly slept in a maze filled with no face you can put a name to.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Making your first friend feels good. Weeks worth of pretending and hoping you and your co-workers would somehow become besties outside of the museum walls fell short, after all. Not that you don’t consider them friends, it’s more so just the fact that they’re all a bit too stoic and up-tight for you. 

You’re quite a bit younger as well. You can tell that they lost their spark for creating art years ago, if they ever even created it in the first place, anyway. It’s all just curating, curating, curating for them. An eye for beauty only, which is respected and appreciated but still, no eye for fun outside of these walls though. 

That’s where Jungwon comes in. A young artist with first-installation jitters dimpling his cheeks as he offers the smallest “hello” that you think you’ve ever heard from another person. 

He’s similar to you in the way he dresses. He works hard, amazing you with each piece of his collection that’s pulled from a tightly packed box, filled with bubble wrap and slammed with “FRAGILE” stickers. 

Arguably, you don’t need to be friends with your co-workers when you have artists like him coming in and out every few months. He’s quite lively, very excited, and almost clumsy in the way he carries himself. 

You were endeared with him the moment you met him and honestly just three days in, the two of you are practically attached at the hip as you push and work hard alongside him to set up the installation as perfectly as possible for the following weekend. 

And, well, the first showing went off without a hitch. His smiling face could have been seen for miles, you think, as you watch him mingle and blush at each compliment and critique of his work.

So bright. 

So full of life.

The exact person you’d want to be around. 

“Jungwon–” You elbow him in the side as he nods and shakes hands through each farewell while the museum comes to its close for the night. “It’s Friday.” You smile. 

He nods you off, paying close attention to each face that came to visit his work. And only when the halls are empty does he make his way back to you with a deep exhale and a loud, relieved groan. 

“Finally.” He huffs, blowing a strand of his hair up and into the air. “Just fifty nine more days to go.” 

You roll your eyes fondly at him already counting down until the two of you are scheduled to take down his work. 

“You do know you only need to be here for opening night, right?” You laugh.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But it’s my first installation, I worry some kid will come wipe his snotty nose all over my hard work.” 

You chuckle, he chuckles, and then you turn to face him. 

“So, it’s Friday.” 

He bounces on his feet. 

“Yeah, glad to see you seem to grasp the idea of fleeting time and whatnot.” He looks at you with a mischievous smile. “What about it?”

“We should go out. The club across the street has really strong drinks for half the price as most places.” 

You watch as Jungwon’s eyes shine when they flick behind you to glance out the window. Then his face falls, his eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head. 

“You do realize we’ve been here for like, eighteen hours straight, right?” 

You nod casually with a shrug.

“I live super close by, if we get tired, you can just crash on my couch.” 

He pretends like he thinks it over for more than two seconds before ultimately accepting the offer of fun. 

“Cool. Wanna meet me there in an hour? I should probably change and stuff first.” 

You eye over his outfit, and then give yourself a quick glance. 

“Good plan.” You smile, backing away and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “An hour. Be there.” 

You both nod in agreement and go your separate ways. Sleepy, but entirely willing to celebrate Jungwon’s huge accomplishment with drinks that have already proven to be too strong. 

The hour passes quickly, wearing that same pair of boots for a second time now that you have the perfect place and reason to stomp around in them. This time, you even go as far as darkening your lips and smearing your mascara just a smidge. After all, you’re definitely gonna get drunk and your makeup will be smeared by the end of the night regardless. 

You gasp upon seeing Jungwon’s chosen attire, offering him an “Ooooh” the second you walk up to him. He had been leaning against the front doors of the museum, as if he’s simply an on looker and not a working artist with a top-notch showcase within those walls. 

He lends you a matching “Ahhhh” upon seeing your chosen outfit. Both of you somehow match in a way that makes this appear more like a date night rather than friends getting drinks. Which is kind of cute and a welcomed idea if the two of you have one to many and accidentally start making out or something. 

It feels platonic enough to laugh off in the morning, anyway. And really, while his boots don’t lend him extra height, he stomps around in them much like you do your own. With his black knit sweater littered in frays and pulled yarn, and his hair intentionally messed up. 

“Wonnie,” You offer the nickname easily as you grab onto his arm and check the street for cars before beginning to cross. “I think some eyeliner could finish off your look.” You laugh as the two of you practically prance with heavy boots to the club. 

He smiles at the nickname, hiding his face only slightly in his sweater when he blinks back at you with sparkly eyes. 

“Really?” He smiles, dimples on full display for the tattooed bodies lined up outside, already checking out the artist. 

“Yeah, oh–” You huff, digging in your small shoulder bag. “I have some, let’s do the finishing touch.” 

And when the two of you stand at the back of the line, you do just that. Carefully holding his cheek in one hand and lining the lower lashes on his left eye. 

He doesn’t even close his eyes, and instead looks up into the night sky with that same dimple showing. Blinking every few seconds at the sensitivity, ignoring the fact that his eyes start to prickle at the feeling. 

“It tickles,” He chuckles in a hushed whisper, never having a friend be so close to his face like this before. “How do you manage to do this every day?”

“I guess you just get used to it after a while.” You focus on the way the darkened color brings his eye to seem more catty than it already was, taking your thumb and swiping the bottom lid to smear the charcoal makeup.

You note how innocent and shining his other eye looks compared. Nevertheless, you go to rest your hand on his other cheek now.

Just for a moment, his eyes flash down to look at you. So, so close to his face. Instantly, you lend him a pause and your own smile. 

“You’re blushing.” You laugh, holding your hand steady in wait as he shifts his weight to the other leg out of natural nervousness. 

“Sorry,” He whispers out, blinking frantically to prepare for his other eye to tickle. “I’m not used to being this close to someone.”

Ah, you don’t believe that for a second.

“Look up.” You instruct, already lining his other lashes. “Feels like I’m putting the finishing touches to a masterpiece.” You add in a lame chuckle, feeling a little flustered yourself the more you note how his eyes water at the tickle. They shine so pretty.

He laughs out at your comment, a hand shooting to your wrist as you smear the liner on him. Not to be intimate or anything, just simply to steady your hand more.

“I guess I am kinda the canvas like this, huh?” He comments, standing as still as he can while looking up at the moon. “Hey–”

“Hm?” You say, pulling your hand back now and doing the same with your thumb to smear the make up into perfection on his flawless little face. 

“What kind of gum is that?” He asks, blinking a few times before adjusting his eyes properly and pretending like he can’t feel the waxy substance caked on his lashes. 

“Just regular spearmint.” You give him a half smile. “Why, you want a piece?” 

He nods, mostly because if he had known you were going to get this close to his face, he probably would have already had some type of candy in his mouth.

Again, it’s not like he has feelings or anything. It’s just, well, it’s always intimate to have someone so close to you. In your space. Your bubble. No one ever gets that close unless they want to kiss. Or, he guesses, if they’re putting eyeliner on you. 

“You look really cute,” You comment now, stepping back after giving him a piece of gum and looking over how the smeared makeup really does complete his look. “Should’ve brought one of my chokers too. Now that, yeah.” 

“Huh?” He tilts his head as the two of you move up the line. “You’re really into this kind of scene aren’t you?”

You nod shyly. 

“Was a total mall goth back when I was a teenager. I would’ve stalked you around the mall if you looked like this back then, really. Totally my type.”

He lends a bashful blink and a half-hearted laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to the ground. 

“Well, when I was a teenager I looked like the person who invented calculus.” 

“And now you’re just a little work of art, huh?” You continue the cringey art-jokes, mostly because you like the way he tries to pretend they’re funny rather than utterly horrifying. 

And he does smile at it, ears flowing with heat as he blushes. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy if it weren’t for the fact that he also heard compliments all day about his art. He’s a bit sensitive right now.

“I guess so.” He accepts your compliment like all the others, lifting his shoulder to his cheek with a squinted eye. It’s nice to feel like the world’s favorite person for a night, truly.

And the conversation is even easier from here on out. Albeit, a bit flirty but it stills platonic enough to where the two of you are just…in a comfortable little bubble surrounded by faces you don’t know. Perhaps playing the part of being two individuals who came to a club together rather than separately and alone. 

As the hours pass, there are several strangers approaching the two of you. Words of “need a third?” and “well aren’t you two just fucking perfect?” 

Jungwon basks in it, snickering quietly with you but never denying a single accusation. The two of you play along. Drinking, dancing, and then more drinking. Up until Jungwon decides he’s held his bladder long enough and is off in search of a bathroom while you make your way to the bar. 

For more drinks, of course. Not to hit on the bartender you met the first time you came here.

“Another red death?” The man with inky red hair smiles at you, already grabbing a glass and starting your drink. 

“Yes but, can I actually–” You pause, glancing at the other man behind the bar. 

Red haired man laughs knowingly with a nod and a side eye before pointing silently at his co-worker and raising a brow at you.

You nod back, dipping your face only slightly when you see him take two steps back and whisper to the man. 

Instantly, you feel a bit more shy over asking to be served by this guy but goddamn. His dark hair looks slightly damp when his eyes glance to you upon whatever is being whispered in his ear, probably from something spewing in his face after being shaken up, or perhaps from sweat. 

You try to avoid eye contact under the man’s gaze when he walks over and in front of you. Sharp jaw, silver chain, loose black t-shirt revealing equally as damp collar bones.

God. The shirt is sticking to him. 

“Babe, my eyes are up here.” He laughs, holding an empty cup and leaning on the bar towards you. “Had a little too much to drink again?” 

You nod, dazed by his dark eyes before immediately shaking your head. 

“Red death, please. Two of them.” 

The man nods with a knowing smile. 

“I saw that you came here with someone.” 

He’s flirting. Mostly for tips but it’s not like he hasn’t been known to take people home from work before so, wherever it goes is where it goes for him. 

“Jay, can you grab me the-” The red haired bartender says from behind, and Jay, presumably, hands him a bottle without so much as letting him finish the sentence. 

“He’s cute.” Jay continues talking to you, enjoying the way you don’t realize how you fold in on yourself. “Any reason as to why you asked me to make your drink?”

“Um, oh,” You were gonna be bold, but you feel Jungwon suddenly clinging to you from behind, eyeing the bartender just like you are. “I just think you make them better.” 

“Did he just say I’m cute?” Jungwon whispers behind your ear, watching the man’s hands as he makes the drinks with expert knowledge. 

“You’re both cute.” The bartender smirks, looking between both of you and then offering a wink. “This round is on me.” He adds, sliding both cups forward and brushing your hand just for a moment before turning his attention to someone else. 

Honestly, it’s like you and Jungwon are the same person at this moment when you grab your drinks and you turn to face each other. 

Both of you, bouncing on your feet with whispered squeals over the hot bartender including both of you in the compliment. 

“Oh my god.” You stare forward, tasting the drink and noting that there somehow seems to be more alcohol in this one. “He’s so–”

Jungwon nods to you excitedly, sipping his drink quickly before glancing behind you and meeting the eye of the bartender again. 

“He was just looking at your ass.” He comments, flipping his body to cling to your arm and now turning his back to Jay “You think he’s gonna check mine out too?”

You nod with a snicker, the song changing and the tempo instantly drowning your thoughts. 

“I love this song!” You shout with drunken glee, already making your way from the bar but keeping that little thought that hopefully, Jay will keep glancing at the two of you simply because it’s fun to be watched by a hottie. 

And Jungwon just goes with your flow. Dancing with sticky sweet lips, eyes glazed over from the music and mood. His makeup looks more beautiful now paired with strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. 

You don’t think you’ve ever seen dimples so fucking deep before, and it’s almost painful to remember his face without that smile plastered on it. 

“Wonnie,” You grab him by the shoulder and pull him against you, ignoring how his hair dips into your drink for a moment. “I think you’re my best friend.”

And the way he pulls back with a gasp, smiling wider? It shatters your heart just so it can grow larger. 

“I am?” He does a little bounce through his dance move, eyes shining in the strobe lights, flashes of red and purple shading his cheeks, only deepening those dimples. “Really?”

Never have you enjoyed spending time with someone like this. Never without crushing hard, never without wanting to take them home and fuck them until you can’t walk. Jungwon is different though. He really does feel like a long lost best friend, like the part of you that has been missing for far too long. 

The moment you met him, you clicked in a way that didn’t involve a dick or a hole. I mean, sure you’d probably fuck him for funsies but there’s really no point in it because you feel perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled, just having him spend his free time with you. 

Surely when he has to travel back home, you’re going to cry. 

“Why do you have to live so far away?” You pause your dancing, making yourself sad at the thought that he will only be here for a few weeks. “Who am I gonna hang out with when you leave?”

Jungwon lends you a pouty sound, a coo, almost. 

“I only live an hour away.” He laughs, leaning forward and plastering his sweaty forehead to yours with a slurred shout so you can hear him clearly. “I’ll come see you all the time!” 

And with that, the mood seeps right back into your veins as the smile overtakes you. 

You dance with him, forehead to forehead for a long, long, while. Up until the club is so crowded with people that Jay couldn’t possibly be paying attention to anything other than making drinks, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention to anything other than the music vibrating the alcohol in your stomach. 

It’s almost suffocating, as you feel a pang in your chest of overheated anxiety. You breathe in, smelling the fifth piece of gum that Jungwon slipped from your pocket on his breath. You exhale, smelling your own sweet alcohol breath before pulling back and dragging Jungwon by the hand into the only corner not packed with people. 

“You okay?” Jungwon slurs as he sways in front of you, eyes trying their best to seem concerned. “You look like you might get sick.” 

You nod, feeling your mouth fill with warm saliva indicating that you should probably go to the bathroom now. 

“Okay, lets get you to-” 

You cut Jungwon off with an off balance sprint to the bathroom and somehow he keeps pace with you, gripping your shirt and refusing to lose you in the crowd. 

Unfortunately, as you press on your stomach to somehow hold down whatever is trying to come up, you notice how there’s a very long line for the bathroom. 

And it’s still suffocating in here. 

And your mouth tastes too sweet. And the music is too loud.

“Let’s go outside!” Jungwon shouts against your ear, vibrating your brain as he navigates you through the crowd himself, pressing you up against the front doors of the club before pushing you outside with him close behind.

The waft of breezy summer air instantly fills your lungs and your stomach settles at the space you have to yourself now. 

You stumble forward, making your way around the same concerned bouncer from before who only smiles at you and Jungwon struggling to find your footing. 

And, like the best friend you knew he became, he tries his best to be the sober friend right now. His voice wavers and crackers when he speaks, but his hands are firm on both of your shoulders as he presses you against the wall behind you. 

“Stay here.” Jungwon says with concern still in his voice. “I’m gonna run back in and get us some water, okay?” 

And you nod in a daze as your eyes follow him when he disappears back inside. You note how he says something to the bouncer before opening the doors, and surely he simply asked that the guy keep an eye on you. 

“You should probably eat something soon, sweetheart.” The kind bouncer comments to you in the night air, stepping closer to you and standing just against the wall next to you.

You feel protected by him, so there are no alarm bells ringing. 

“You know I can’t let you back in, right?” He chuckles as he speaks to you calmly. 

“Oh, I bet.” You laugh, breathing in the air again and again, still not regretting the fun you’ve had for the past few hours. “Just gonna sit here and wait for Wonnie, he’ll help me get home.”

“Good, good.” The bouncer confirms your words, still standing protective next to you when you hear the doors fly open and a few seconds of booming music before it’s muffled again. 

Jungwon flops down in front of you on the sidewalk now, two water bottles in hand with a smile on his face. 

“Jay gave me these.” He smiles. “He said if we can handle waiting til closing time he can drive us home.”

You laugh sheepishly. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too drunk and you know you probably wont make it another hour and a half with an additional however much time it’ll take for him to close up the club before needing to pass the fuck out. 

“I think I’ll have to take him up on that next time.” You slur your words. “You’ll help me walk home right, Wonnie? It’s a short walk.” 

Jungwon nods, still doing his best to act as sober as he can, but the bouncer shuts him down fast.

“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.” The bouncer laughs. “You’re both fucked out of your mind.” 

You laugh, Jungwon laughs, and the bouncer throws in his own hearty sigh. 

“Fuck–” You have a sudden, sober thought. “The tab. Jungwon, did we pay the tab?”

He pauses, eyes widening. 

“Shit.” He explains before jumping up on unsteady feet. “Can you help her call for a ride?” He slurs out at the bouncer, only disappearing inside again when the kind goth nods at the request.

And as you sit here in the silence after the bouncer helps you order a ride, a few minutes pass. Your eyes are out of focus as you stare up into the night sky before closing them. 

You could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk if you’re not careful. 

Another few minutes pass, now a loud slam of the doors rings in your tired ears now and you jolt out of the drowsy state, opening your eyes thinking you’ll find Jungwon rushing to you but instead, you note how suddenly you’re entirely alone. 

You don’t know how long you’ve sat here, or where the bouncer went, better yet why Jungwon isn’t back yet but what you do know is that suddenly, you’re mind is sober and fucking assaulted by the smell of cinnamon.

You glance around, trying to focus on the scent and where it’s coming from when– oh.

There, walking down the sidewalk is that fucking priest from before. Tall, clad yet again in black clothes, and he simply pauses his step in front of you. 

“Again?” The man calls out to you with an amused voice, lending you his hand, but you don’t take it. 

Instead, the doors suddenly fly open and Jungwon stumbles out again, nearly tripping over his own feet with an apology of “sorry, jay was trying to convince us to–”

“Uh, hi?” Jungwon interrupts himself as he takes note of the man standing in front of you. “The fuck are you?” He checks the man out, not quite able to focus on him in full.

The priest nods his head at both of you, staring Jungwon up and down before landing his eyes back on you. 

“Get her home safe.” He says nothing else before continuing his nightly stroll. 

And, well, you do get home safe. 

You and Jungwon are a mess of limbs in the short ride to your apartment, and an even messier pile of idiots by the time you make it inside. The couch is long forgotten by the time you close your front door, feeling Jungwon follow you all the way to your plush bed with drunken groans and giggles.

There, you flop onto the bed fully clothed without so much as a happy “goodnight” and you’re both drifting off to sleep. Jungwon’s heavy limbs are thrown on you as he loosely spoons you. Like he’s still trying to take care of you despite the fact that you no longer feel sick, and you’re both perfectly safe behind your apartment walls. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Have you no shame? 

Fuck no. 

What about Jungwon? Nah.

Both of you have a pep in your step by the next Friday, waiting for the museum to close so Jungwon can walk home with you and get all dressed up and ready for another fall into the infamous “after life”.

“We should try to stay until closing, maybe Jay will bring us home this time.” Jungwon wiggles his eyebrows as you put his eyeliner on for him again. 

“We’re gonna have to look real good then, yeah?” You smile at his pretty smeared eyes, reaching your hand up and ruffling his hair.

And you do. Both of you dress up in the darkest, blackest, sexiest fit you can find in your closet. Jungwon is sporting one of your pretty, sheer lace undershirts beneath his own unbuttoned black cardigan, pants tight and low on his waist. 

You, with another semi-transparent shirt. Sheer, showing all the goods if you hadn’t put on a nice fitting bralette under it. Cute skirt that shows your thighs, the stompers, of course. 

And the finishing touch this time? Matching chokers. 

“Cute.” You comment, leaning forward and popping a minty kiss to the tip of Jungwon’s nose. 

“You too.” He smiles, pinching your waist before turning to face your vanity mirror and checking himself out. 

Cute is right. Jay’s probably gonna fall to the floor when he gets a look at the two of you. 

And, well. The night is a blur. 

Jay does, in fact, eye the two of you with that sharp smirk like he did last weekend but you, unfortunately, drink far too much yet again. 

Jungwon slowed down a bit towards midnight but he kept an eye on you for the most part. Trying to secure the ride for both of you by orbiting around the bar and making flirty talk with both bartenders when time allowed it. 

You stayed on the dance floor through it. Sometimes dancing with Jungwon when he comes up behind you with clingy hands and updates on the Jay situation, but after a few songs he’d wander off again. 

It’s nice, kind of. Having someone with you that can maintain control through your own drunken stupidity. You don’t mind dancing alone, after all, you’re not entirely alone giving the pretty men and girls who come by to dance with you every other song when Jungwon isn’t around.

And of course, around the same time as last time, you find your mind feeling suffocated by the time the club is at capacity. 

You sway on the dance floor in search of Jungwon, unsure of which way the bar is because your eyes simply can’t adjust to the darkness and flashing lights by this point. 

Dimples. You need to find the sunshine face in this void of darkness. 

And you search. 

And search. 

Until you’re stumbling out the front doors alone, knowing that if Jungwon is looking for you, he’ll probably know you stepped out to breathe at some point. 

Just like the week before, the crip summer air outside instantly settles your stomach and breathing comes easier. You feel more sober than you thought you were as you sit here, making small talk with the bouncer who finally introduces himself to you. 

“That’s a good name for a big goth teddy bear.” You mock the man. “Balor.”

“In the flesh.” The man waves you off. 

And then, suddenly, the bouncer is stepping closer to you with a stiffened shoulder, the air outside shifting to something else for him, but you’re completely unaware of it. 

“I need to step inside for a moment, will you be alright for a few minutes?” He knows he shouldn’t step inside, but in all fairness, it’s kind of the protocol at this point. 

Considering that man has made himself very clear that if he’s near the club at all, it’s for good reason and he’s not to be interrupted. At least, that’s what code is for the bouncers here at this club. 

It’s a shame though, to know he has to leave you to the night. You’re a fun girl, peppy and sweet, not rude or hard to make small talk with on the long nights of work. Maybe you drink a little too much, but still. It’s not like the bouncer knows why he is to leave the sidewalk when a certain someone wanders by. What he does know is that more often than not, he’ll sink away inside only to resume his position alone, with no one left on the sidewalk.

Probably just a pimp. 

Or human trafficking. 

He isn’t sure, but time and time again he has been told to leave it be. That it’s nothing wretched. That it’s simply a territory that isn’t their own. 

Still, you nod to the bouncer. 

“If you see Wonnie, can you scold him for letting me get lost?” 

You miss the look of concern on the bouncer’s face. 

“Hey, come back inside, I’ll help you find him.”

“Oh, hello again.” A voice echoes from around the corner, causing the bouncer’s shoulders to fall as he immediately offers you a small “I'll find him–” before disappearing behind the heavy doors with haste. 

And then, cinnamon. The spicy scent wafting through you so fast that you’re almost dizzy. 

More dizzy than you already were, anyway.

“Have you learned nothing?” The priest walks up to you, chuckling and raising his eyebrows. 

“Weird ass priest.” You say, paying no mind to the happenings of just now, totally unaware of the energy surrounding you.

“And to what god do you believe I pray?” He tilts his head as he stands in front of you, hands behind his back, leaning down at the waist to position his face in front of yours. 

The question makes you look up at him with a skewed brow. 

“The usual one?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the silly meeting. 

Again.

A third meeting. 

“Ah, the usual one.” He mocks, nodding his head before standing back up and towering over you. “Do you seek him out?” 

You nod momentarily, having never been religious but at this moment, as drunk as you are and as alone as you feel with this strange man, only god could answer your curious question as to why you keep meeting him. 

As to why you’re always all on your own when he appears. 

As to why he forces a hope in your mind that god is really out there, and he’ll protect you when the bouncer isn’t here.

“Was that a nod?” He smiles at you, landing a cold hand on your shoulder. 

“Yes,” You whisper out, feeling heavy and more and more dizzy by the moment. Not from the alcohol but from something else. “Do you know where I can find him?” 

Your voice calls out on its own to him. You don’t recall wanting to ask him that, nor do you recall even thinking those words before saying them.

“He’s right here, love–” The priest pulls back, presenting the space in front of him before turning his hands inward and presenting himself to you. “I am God.”

You freeze, a rush of cold running through your veins. Surely you’re hearing him wrong despite that voice echoing those words in your head three, four, five, six times. 

“Isn’t that considered blasphemy?” You try to play it off in a joke, hiding the chill down your spine. 

Pretending you’re not interested. 

Wondering why it is that you are, actually. 

“Perhaps on any other street.” He confirms for you, now crouching down and showing his face plainly to you. “Do you keep secrets?” 

Your body nods before you can think to do it yourself, and you narrow your eyes for a moment at him. He’s…insane looking. Unnaturally flawless. Like those little speckles of moles on his face were placed with perfected intention. 

You’re mesmerized as he looks at you, eyes glancing to each part of your face, watching your expression change and fall, then rise and– he chuckles fondly, deeply. 

“I believe you.”

Why do you feel proud of that?

“Come back with me, yes?” 

There’s a long pause as you fight to think for yourself. If Jungwon were here with you right now, surely you’d be more grounded than you feel right now. Surely, you’d be having a heated conversation involving some sort of shared fantasy over that bartender. 

What was his name again? 

J…J-

Your eyes adjust to the face in front of you as you lose your train of thought. Something inside of you pulls. You can’t tell if it’s your heart or your thoughts but it appears to be instinctual when you replay his invitation in your head. On any other night, with any other man, you’d say no. 

Under these circumstances alone, you should be running away. 

This man. Dressed as a holy priest, walking to and fro from what you assume to be his home within that unnatural cathedral, presenting himself as god.

You should stand up and disappear into a crowd of rowdy dancers. 

You should find Jungwon and cling to him. 

You should push him away, and you should be recoiling by his cold hand that brushes your cheek. His voice shouldn’t feel so good in your ears. Like a siren, something inside of you doesn’t want you to run. 

“Temptation has you by the throat, my dear.” He smiles as his hand brushes your warm cheek again and again. “You seem rather fond of the feeling.” 

And now he flashes his teeth to you. Glistening brighter than the moon, he appears all but natural to you at this moment when you spiral internally at how fucking beautiful he is. Surely this guy is just a turbo goth that truly lives the life. Probably gives his heart to satan and only fucks during a full moon. 

And oh, wouldn’t you know.

You glance up at the sky again, the moon full and nearly pulsing in the sky like it’s a living being itself. Then your eyes fall back to the priest, his smile still present. 

A weirdo. A freak.

But…aren’t you too?

You barely feel yourself stand up and take a step forward under his arm. You follow the scent of him if nothing else. Heavy in your nose, like a hidden treasure cloaked by the darkened fabric draping over his body.

You want to smell it deeper. Maybe if he were to take off those clothes you could–

“By the throat.” He mumbles quietly as he leads you away from the club. 

Away from familiarity. Away from Jungwon. Away from the public.

There, straight back to that damned cathedral.

You’re more unnerved this time though, because the moment you step through the doors, you cannot, for the life of you, recall what you were supposed to be doing. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up with a weight on your side, you smile at the feeling of what you assume to be Jungwon next to you. As you lay here, not quite comprehending what happened in the blur of the night before, you start to take note of something. Color. 

The light behind your closed eyelids don’t match the yellow-white light of the sun shining through your bedroom window. No, you’re seeing colors. 

Blue, red, green– 

“Wonnie?” You call out, squinting your eyes open, not quite processing the room before you feel a pit in your stomach. “Wonnie?”

Holy shit. 

You thought it was a dream.

You thought coming back to this cathedral was nothing more than a drunken dream. That the weight on your side was more than just a misplaced pillow. 

And as you lay here in a room that isn’t yours, and most certainly a different room compared to the one you slept in previously here, you try to think. 

Was it not a dream? 

The way the priest held you close and inhaled you? The way he put you to bed and left you here in the darkness? The way you– oh. 

This feeling in your chest, pulling, pushing, weighing so heavy. Something inside of you wants to see him despite your uncomfortable awakening. No, you need to see him. This feeling, you know now, only becomes more aggressive when he’s near too. Which can only mean he isn’t far outside of this room. 

You think hard about him and what you can remember outside of the blur in your head. He’s attractive. His face is otherworldly, with eyes so dark you hate that you can very nearly see yourself floating in them. 

The image of his face sits clearly in your hungover brain as you try to think. The feeling of his cold skin against your face, his lips, his…

Red.

Panic washes over you when you jump out of bed, ignoring the head rush and the way you immediately topple over and onto the floor. You need to go home, you need to find Jungwon and make sure he made it somewhere safe last night. You need to find your phone, and your…purse? 

Your shoes?

Where the fuck are your things?

You plant your hands against the cold wooden floors, staring straight down as you try to think. Still, nothing comes but blurry images of the club and then solid images of Sunghoon flashing like still photographs behind your eyes.

Are you losing your goddamn mind? 

Finally, you take a deep breath and stand on your feet, rushing for the door and expecting it to open easily, just like this time. But no. It’s locked. You’re fucking locked in. Which is– fuck, you can’t think straight. And while you still recognize that you’re not expected at work today, surely Jungown is worried, right?

He’s probably looking for you. Hell, with the way his nerves get to him, you wouldn’t be surprised to know he’s plastered posters all over the city looking for you. 

He’s definitely looking for you. 

Fortunately though, only a few minutes of pure panic pass when you hear the door unlock and a pale-eyed nun opens the door for you. She instantly sees the fear in your eyes when you take a timid step back. 

“Oh, you poor dear–” She coos out, lifting her brows in pity. “Do you not remember?” 

You hear her sympathy, feeling your body shiver with relief at her safe and calm voice. Looking up at her, she can already see the question in your eyes. The need for an explanation. 

“You did request that I lock the door for you. You were just simply petrified when–”

You gasp at her choice of words, not remembering a single bit of fear from the night before. 

“Petrified?” You whisper carefully, wrapping your arms around yourself and nervously looking around the room. 

The shrouded woman purses her lips, glancing away from you. 

“I do believe Master Sunghoon startled you. He meant no harm, my dear.” She tries to calm your nerves, but the information only stiffens your shoulders more. 

“Master?” You question with hesitation. “Do you mean Father? Reverend?” 

“Oh.” She purses her lips tighter now, a small smile breaking out at the corners of her lips. “It’s worse than I thought. Please, come with me.” 

You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall. 

“It’ll only be a minute,” She waves her hand for you to come. “You’re not in danger, I assure you.” 

And as you stand here, knowing that you likely have no choice but to follow her, you hope that her words indicating no danger are truthful. You kind of need them to be, after all. 

“Come now, dear.” 

Reluctantly, you follow her. 

All the way up a too-dark spiral staircase, down two long and dark hallways with vaulted ceilings, and upon rounding a corner, you smell it and you fucking feel a tug in your chest. One that drives you to walk a bit faster, nearly in front of the nun as your feet carry you to where you feel you’re supposed to be. 

She chuckles when you reach the large double doors before she does, dipping her head at you before seemingly gliding back down the hallway in silence. 

Before you can even knock on the doors, they open with a rush of air hitting you square in your face. It nearly knocks the breath out of you at first, but you inhale deeply the same scent of cinnamon before your breath is actually caught in your throat. 

There stands the priest. Or god…or whatever he is. 

“Terrified.” He clicks a knowing tongue at you, stepping to the side to invite you into the extravagant room. “Just when I thought you I had you, too.” 

You stand in silence in front of him after stepping inside, that tug in your chest trying to pull you directly against the man. Still, you refrain with furrowed brows as you remain silent.

“And yet, here you stand.” He softens his frustrated voice, leaning comfortably against a wooden desk behind him. “The human brain truly is fascinating.” 

“Human brain.” You repeat his words to him in an attempt to process them.

“Yes, of course. Yours in particular.” The priest, in his night clothes of a loosened white shirt and long pants makes his way to a bookcase. You watch his slender fingers pull a ratty old book out before he flip through the pages. “I’ve heard about people like you.” 

You pause as you watch him push a pair of gold-trimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, a memory flooding to the forefront of your mind as you recall last night to your best ability. 

Again, red. 

“I used to be like you.” He just talks, offering no context but keeping his sharp gaze on you despite having the book open in his hands. 

You find yourself nodding as you listen, feeling your hand raise to your heart as you try to ignore the way the priest, Sunghoon, takes a deep inhale. 

There’s nothing that follows his inhale. He doesn’t release that breath as he stares at you and instead just…smirks.

“Last night, you believed me to be god.” He smiles wider now. “You stood in that very spot and undressed  yourself.” He takes a step closer to you now, tilting his head with his words. “Do you know what you did next?” 

A shaky breath leaves your lips and a shiver runs through you again and again as you shake your head at him. Forgetting just for a moment how to speak. 

“You got on your knees and you prayed.”

You drink the thick air in the room like a glass of wine, swallowing harshly, struggling to maintain any type of steady heart beat. You feel allured, aroused, mesmerized, embarrassed. 

“What–” Inhale. “Did I pray for?” 

Exhale. 

“Me.” 

Inhale.

Within a split second all the memories come crashing through your skull. Rattling images of that very instance where you were on your knees, right here, fucking praying. Your hand instinctively shoots up to your neck, and there, you feel the drainage points. Two small pricks, just like in all of those movies you watched growing up. Sore, swollen, hot to the touch. 

Well, goddamn. 

There goes your balance. Your eyes start to blur and you feel yourself fall. Only, you don’t. You can’t when you hear him drop the book to the floor and feel his cold body shoot up and against you to hold you up. 

He says nothing at first as he looks down at you, and you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. You look up at him in a daze, trying to focus, trying to think, but all you can process is the way he inhales again, deeply.

“You ran.” He whispers to you, studying your face and the way your body went from limp to almost holding up on its own in a shorter time than he expected. So strong, you are. Such a fighter.

He inhales again, seemingly drowning in the smell of you before rolling his eyes up and closing them just for a moment. Then, he groans before looking back down at you with eyes almost as dazed as yours.

“You didn’t run away, though.” He adds.

Even as he releases his hold on you, he smiles and inches his face closer and closer to yours. Almost as if he’s making an attempt to stare straight through you. 

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, love.” 

Your body feels weak as you soak in the truth of last night, your lips instinctively wanting to kiss him. No longer do you feel the need to run away, or to find Jungwon. You’re no longer afraid, even. 

Words can’t explain how you feel right now.

“Why didn’t you leave?” 

You have no answers for him when you hum out as a response. In fact, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had the ability to answer questions in the first place. 

All you feel is euphoria as he continues to talk to you, sweetly smiling and lowering his voice to something that drips like thick syrup down the walls of your brain. 

“I can trust you’ll be back then?” He hovers his lips over yours, watching you pucker them for him before backing away with another deep inhale of your scent. “Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?”

You find yourself laughing at that, smiling as you blink at him. 

God, he’s so charming. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon had shoo’d you away shortly after, and you managed to make it home in a daze of sunlight and uncanny admiration.

You’re not sure if you can ever feel normal again after that. In fact, you’re quite dissociated and disconnected to the world until you find Jungwon slumped at the entrance of your apartment, sound asleep. 

Like a guiding light, his presence grounds you so fast that you feel more dizzy than you did in Sunghoon’s arms. Like your spirit is slammed back into your body and reality is hitting you again. You crouch down in a rush with light taps to Jungwon’s face, those bright eyes widening the moment he realizes that you’re here. 

“Where were you?”  He whispered drowsily, his dry throat forcing his voice to crack as he shifts his body comfortably against your door. 

Immediately, your face is apologetic and your voice is soothing in repeated apologies. 

“I’m sorry, Wonnie–” You hiccup, nearly wanting to cry. “I ended up going home with someone, I didn’t mean to leave you there alone.” You continue, pushing your hands under his arms and hoisting him up to stand. “I’m sorry.” You continue, and continue. “I should have left my keys with you, or–”

“Hey,” He whispers sweetly, finally standing on his own and stretching his arms out with an even drier sound. “It’s okay, you’re the one who missed out.” 

You tilt your head in question as you reach for your shoulder bag, the one Sunghoon had tucked within his desk drawer, and pull out your keys. 

“Oh?” You smile at his lack of care, but part of you kind of shatters at it. 

What if you really needed help? How long would it have taken Jungwon to see the red flags? Then again, how long is it going to take for you to see the red flags?

“Oh yeah.” He nods to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you push open your door and push him inside. “Jay brought me here, he stayed for a little while, even offered to bring me back to his place.”

You’re a little jealous. You did miss out, it seems. Still, you feel…fond of what you went through last night. Despite the feeling of rot within you when you think about it. Knowing it’s weird. Strange. Unnatural.

A vampire? Really? Surely not. 

“Why didn’t you go home with him?” You ask, making your way to your room right behind Jungwon, paying no mind to him as you undress and throw on a t-shirt. “Why’d you sleep at my door?” 

Jungwon shrugs, now taking his own outfit off while rummaging through your closet for a shirt you probably got from an ex boyfriend. 

“Well,” He looks at you now, really looks at you. “I’m fine if you wanna go home with people but I was a little worried, wanted to make sure you’d actually make it home.”

You pause as you dress yourself for a second sleep, feeling something in your chest flutter out of you at his worry. So he did see the color red. 

Not as brightly as you did, but he still saw it. 

“I really am sorry.” You furrow your brows as you watch him put that over-sized shirt on and lay on your bed. “I promise, I won’t do that again.” 

“You’d better not.” He chuckles, blinking at you and waiting for you to come lay with him. 

“Let me go get us some water first, I think we have a lot to sleep off.” 

He nods happily to you, only one dimple peeking out at you when you turn to head for the kitchen.

And after that, it’s nice. Not much sleep happened though, mostly just a lot of water chugging and pillow talk before Jungwon shifts with a gasp.

“What the fuck is that?” He bolts up, hovering over you and practically pinning you to the bed as he forces your face to the side. 

You know exactly what he’s looking at and explaining it isn’t the hardest thing in the world. After all, you were very drunk last night. So drunk that you’re sure you woke up today still drunk. 

A vampire? Hah. There’s no way. You were right to think Sunghoon is just like, really goth. Embarrassingly so. Probably thinks he’s a vampire lord or something. 

That pull in your chest? The inhales with no exhales? 

It’s all an act and, well, you’re kinda into it if you’re being honest, being hunted and all. The dude is hot as hell, and you don’t mind exploring a little bit of his world. 

“Well…” You trail off, lending your looming friend with the smeared eyes an embarrassed smile. 

“Those look deep.” His voice drips in concern as he keeps your face turned. “Did it hurt?”

You feel his fingers touching the two puncture wounds. Gentle, warm fingers. They pulse at the touch and sting when he pulls them away to let you turn your face back to him.

“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling it.” You think he’d probably panic if you told the truth right now. About how you were clearly too drunk when it happened. About how you prayed to a man only for him to pierce your neck and drink you up like you did to the drinks just hours prior. You aren’t even sure if you had sex with the guy.

To you though, sober or not, you probably would have still left with Sunghoon last night. With that flawless skin and those dark eyes. Sober or not, if he’s into biting and blood, you’re into it too. More than willing to play his victim. 

The fact that you were probably far too drunk at the time doesn’t bother you much because even now, with a grasp on reality, you’d like to think you’d let him do it again. If anything, just to feed your own curiosity.

“Wow, you really are into some freaky stuff–” Jungwon comments playfully, rolling back off of you and then taking a breath. “Make sure you clean them. Who knows where the mouth that did it has been.”

All smiles when you’re with Jungwon, honestly. So much comfort and concern, so much laughing and safety. If it weren’t for him, you honestly wouldn’t know how you’d be feeling right now. And it’s nice knowing that he opts to sleep over with you again. Seemingly preferring your apartment over the home he dropped a hefty wad of cash on for a two month stay. 

The feeling of having a best friend swells inside of you with each passing day, and his presence here allows you to go to work and sleep through the night without much more thought to Sunghoon. You love this city and you love the little artist that found himself at your doorstep even more. 

Hopefully he meant it when he said he’d come visit you all the time once his time here is over. Unlike you, who changed your mind the moment you saw Jungwon asleep at your door. 

“I can trust you’ll be back then? Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?” Sunghoon had said to you. You remember it despite the state of your mind at the time, and you also remember nodding to him. 

He seemed satisfied with your confirmation, yet since then you’ve felt no push or pull. No need to have him sucking on your neck or making you feel like he’s a demon wearing the skin of an angel. 

Perhaps you’ll just need to be sure you don’t find yourself drunk and alone on the sidewalk again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By mid-week, Jungwon looks sad to know he needs to go back to his respective space for a little while. Not because he wants to, and not even because you want him to. 

It’s simply because you need to be alone. You’ve always needed to be in your own space when this happens anyway. 

Month after month after month. For years and years. 

It never gets comfortable and you’ll never understand why you’re fated to hurt so badly every twenty two days. 

Going to work is already difficult enough, bloated in your quirky outfits and smiling through the twisting knots in your gut. Having Jungwon in your space when you very nearly want to strangle every person who asks you how your day has been would only lead to more owed apologies. 

“It’s not forever, Wonnie.” You genuinely smile through the pain at his narrowed eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.” 

“Oh, I’m being dramatic?” He throws his arms up and motions at you. “You just told me you need a few days to bleed out on your kitchen floor.” 

“Well, yeah...” You laugh and he frowns. 

“I have a sister, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Who’s gonna buy you snacks and bring you microwaved water bottles?”

“Jungwon.” You land your hands on his shoulders and force him to look at you. “I really just don’t like when people are around me when I'm on my period.” 

He blows a strand of his hair up before pursing his lips, accepting the fact that maybe he’s a bit too clingy. Then again, you’re the only person in this city he knows and arguably the only person in this world he’s managed to grow so close with.

Given the fact that the two of you only met like, what? Two weeks ago? He should probably tone it down and not make an attempt to change your lifestyle just so he can sleep next to someone. 

“Fine.” He huffs, frowning harder. “But if you need snacks or–”

“I’ll call you.” You shake his shoulders before forcing him into a bear hug. “Thanks though.” 

And with that, you go your separate ways at the end of the work day and try to ignore how the pain medicine did close to nothing all day to help with the twisting in your abdomen. 

Still, you’re relieved to know you can tough out the next few days in silence due to Jungwon backing you up on your false-sickness nonsense nearing the end of your shift. 

“I feel like I’m coming down with a fever.” You whined to your boss, happy that the first day cold-sweats from your period makes it appear as just that. A fever. 

“She’s been a bit out of it all day. If you need me to help out on the down-low while she’s recovering, I don’t mind.” Jungwon had added, smiling at your boss and not at all bothered by the unpaid work he’ll probably have to do for your sake. 

A great friend he is. You’re lucky to have met him. 

An amazing friend, really. For helping you find space for yourself in crowded clubs and within your own bed. For lending a hand at work and showing up every day for your shifts despite simply being an artist that’s presenting his work there. No where is he needed within that museum outside of, well, you. 

And he’s always there. So for him to not be here now, when you’re making your way to your apartment door? It feels...wrong. Mostly because, as alone as you are when you walk inside and as silent as it is, you don’t entirely feel as alone like you once did here. 

Still, you go about your nightly routine and fall into bed with those same cramps in your gut. It’s not long before you’re drifting off, pleased to know that at least when you’re sleeping, there’s no pain in your body. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A strong scent wakes you, forcing your eyes open in the darkness of your room. 

Familiar. Warm. Spicy.

Cinnamon.

A tug, just a little pull inside of you brings you to your feet as you wander through your apartment. Straight to the front door. Straight out of the front door. 

“You know where I live?” You whisper drowsily, rubbing your eyes and walking straight into his grasp, ignoring the feeling of sticky blood leaking out of you just from getting out of bed alone.

“No.” Sunghoon speaks against your hair, rubbing your arms as he holds you against him. 

“Oh.” You accept his answer with a nonchalant feeling inside of you. Who even cares how he ended up here? 

“Come back with me?” He whispers, already taking a step back and smiling wickedly when you instantly follow, forcing your nose further against his chest and up to his neck. “I hear it dripping, love, come.”

And you do. All the way downstairs and into a car with heavily tinted windows. 

You feel comfortable, safe. 

The cramps in your belly are nowhere near as you slowly but surely come to your senses. Half-awake but feeling buzzed next to him. Still, you smile while keeping your nose planted up and against his neck even as he drives. 

You like the sound of his little laughs each time he tries to push you back to your seat, and you like even more the way he mutters to himself through it when he relents and lets you do as you please. The short drive in the dead of night doesn’t offer much in terms of danger anyway. 

And slowly still, your mind clears. Breaking out of the buzzed fog when he brings you through the cathedral

 silently. Past the pale-eyed nuns with pursed smiling lips, past the windows and hallways. 

No longer are you buzzed by the time you make it through those heavy doors of the extravagant room. The same one you prayed in. The same one you nearly fainted in. The same one you tried to forget. 

“How do you feel?” He asks just moments after the doors close. 

You can sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice when he asks you that, only now realizing that you’re in your pajamas and fucking staining them.

“What do you mean?” You ask, squeezing your legs together in an uncomfortable show of what’s happening between them. 

“Are you awake?” He asks now, still slightly hesitant in front of you. You can almost see him hold himself back. 

From something.

“As far as I know.” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “Um, can I go to the bathro–”

“Can you read that clock?” He interrupts you and points to the candle-lit wall. 

“Three thirty–” You pause, squinting to make sense of the exact minute. “three.” 

He smiles at the fact that you’re entirely awake with him this time, despite the drowsy lure he had you in when he appeared at your door. 

You’re here of your own free will, and you’re not running. 

“Do you want to go home?” 

You’re confused by the questions. As confused and drunk as you felt upon stumbling out your apartment door, you very much came here willingly. If anything, you’re just a little weirded out by the fact that you were paying such close attention to him that you missed the way blood seeped through your clothes. 

“No?” You offer back to him before taking a deep breath. “Can you show me where the bathroom is though?” 

And before you can even comprehend it, Sunghoon is right up against you. Looming and staring down as his hands rest on your shoulders before sliding down to your waist. 

“Now, now.” He chuckles, lowering his face just an inch, resting his lips on your forehead. “Why would I want to do that?” 

“Because I’m gross right now?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to take a step back but realizing that his grip on you tightens. 

“Oh, have you forgotten?” He laughs out, lowering himself more, dragging his lips all the way down your face, neck, chest. 

“Ah, wait–” You panic when you feel his nose against your stomach, threatening to go lower. “I’m like…” You’re embarrassed to say it now. 

After all, you came here with the clear indication of fucking. Period or not, you’re not afraid of a little bit of blood but…this.

“Sunghoon, I’m on my period.” You finally speak into the room, trying to push his face from your stomach. 

“I know.” He smiles, pressing his nose harder against your stomach. “Drove me crazy all day.” He dips his face down instantly, inhaling deeply between your legs.

Something inside of you is insanely turned on by his blatant interest in you. 

“All day?” You ask, hands reaching for his hair as he drags his nose straight through the mess you’ve made. 

“Could smell it, darling.” He laughs, pulling back and looking up at you. “Smells so sweet, not gross. Delicious.”

Why the fuck is the blood smeared against the tip of his nose so alluring? Jungwon was right, you really are into some freaky shit. Then again, it’s not so weird considering you’ve never done this before. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere when it comes to kinks, right? 

“Can smell something else too.” He looks back between your legs, ignoring that you are trying to act like you don’t want to let him. “You’re aroused.” 

Oh. 

And just as you’re preparing for some sort of pressure between your thighs, you feel a waft of cold air rush up your body when he stands and grabs your face with both hands. 

“You never came back.” He hisses against your lips, dragging you back and further into the room with him. “I had to sniff you out like a fucking dog.” 

Your mouth falls open at the spiteful shift in his voice, following his movements all the way into the room until he’s spinning around and pushing you from his hold. You fall back against something insanely soft, and instantly you moan at the feeling of silk against you. 

Barely able to catch your breath, he’s over you. He’s on you. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a low rumbled growl in his throat and inhaling over and over again. 

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. 

And you can feel him nose his way all the way up to your face, opening his eyes and staring straight through you with slack lips just over yours. 

You’re mesmerized by him at this moment. Never has a man acted this way with you and it’s insane to think you’d ever be satisfied with someone who wouldn’t. You almost strain your neck to kiss him, and you truly would have if it weren’t for the fact that you feel him sink his hand into your shorts.

Not even a second to truly comprehend how ice-cold his fingers feel when he slips them down and slides two of them into you. He watches your face when he does it, his own slack lips turning to a smile when you moan out at the smallest of pleasure he wants to offer you. 

“Oh, look at you,” He coos, feeling your arms shoot around his shoulders when he continues to slide the digits in and out of you. “So sticky, what a pretty little mess.” 

You groan in embarrassment at the act, knowing full well that you’ll have to face the fact that you like it at some point after he’s finished with you. You don’t mind admitting it so much now though. The way his fingers slide through the thick mess, forcing the scent of brass to mix with his own cinnamon aroma? To die for, truly. 

“I could just eat you up–” He chokes in a whisper this time, struggling to maintain his composure from the sickening sweet smell of your blood. “Would you like that?”

You lift up instantly, kissing against his slackened smile. It’s one sided, as he simply lets you do it and nothing more. Mostly because he, himself, is spiraling into a frenzy of what he needs more than what you want. It’s all pleasure the same though, as he feels your tongue trace against one of his sharpened teeth.

Just a small bite. Just a taste.

“Ah–” You pull back in a wince, the flavor of blood hitting the back of your taste buds as you look up at him with confusion.

He doesn’t allow much looking though, as you hear that same rumble from his throat right up against your lips. You feel his tongue lick you up, slurping the blood straight from your new wound and moaning through the flavor of it. 

His eyes flutter closed as he tries to hold down his thirst, knowing that his fingers are fucking dripping with this same sweet, red slick. It wouldn’t take much now for him to break and let it all drip down his throat. He could end this now if he’s not careful.

And when he opens his eyes again as he pulls back from your sweet tongue, he notes the look of confusion still on your face. His eyes roll in fond annoyance at you for that, only because you have this stubborn need to question despite having the clear answer bleeding from your mouth. 

“You’re still trying to pretend you don’t realize?” He asks, whispering real close to your lips, darting his tongue out and offering a small kitten lick as he buries his fingers deep. 

Your lips open for him in a moan and he licks into it again. Your still bleeding tongue only drives him further and further from a stable mindset. No one, not in hundreds of years, has tasted this fucking sweet. He almost can’t savor it with the way his body rises from slumber at the mere fucking scent of you from ten blocks away. 

His cock pulses for the first time in decades for you. God, he feels more alive than he did when he was actually cycling blood through his veins. 

“You just sliced open that pretty tongue on my teeth.” He chuckles, basking in the warmth he can only feel with you beneath him. “My fangs, love.” His fingers continue their slide all the while, the sounds of squelching blood filling his ears more than your soft groans for more. “Still, you seem to deny what this is and what I am.” 

You can hear his words, but comprehending them isn't quite as easy. Like, yes, he’s got a vampire kink. Whatever. 

“I get it, you’re kinky.” You huff out, missing the way he stifles a laugh at your denial of the truth. 

“You’re a stubborn one–” He smiles, flashing the same fang that sliced through your tongue. “It’s a bit frustrating. Perhaps even endearing.” 

And then, suddenly, his fingers come to a halt and he waits for you to look at him. Just as you go to speak, he’s sliding his fingers out of your mess so quickly, shushing you with his red stained digits. 

“Now, listen.” 

It’s silent. More silent than you ever thought the world could be. 

“Do you hear it?” 

You shake your head, feeling his fingers leave a trail of your blood against your lips as he drags them away and up to his own mouth. 

There, he hangs his fingers from his mouth, licking gently and tasting thoughtfully before sliding them further in. He sucks them clean in an erotic show of his blood-lust before letting them fall from his still licking tongue. Then, he’s slotting them right back between your legs, wanting more to taste. 

“No? You don’t hear how loud it is?” He asks now in a lower tone, still thirsty, still in need, dipping down to lick the blood from your face. “All that blood in you, bundled up right–” His fingers press hard against your clit. “Here.”

Your body jolts in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the mere sensitivity he forces your body into. God, kinky is right. He knows how to use words. His voice is so elegant while spewing the filth, so proper.

“Ahh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions you in a moan that mimicked your own, now lowering himself from your face and kissing down your clothed chest. Down, down, down. “Do you think you’ll believe me when you feel the blood drain out of you?” His voice echoes in your ears, reminding you of the vampire-like thirst he’s trying to act upon. 

And when he slips your shorts down your legs, you don’t even protest. Which at this point isn’t weird at all. The dude is insanely into it and you can’t help but feel like you can vibe with it if he keeps acting like this. He’s good at roleplaying. 

Instead of an embarrassed protest, you respond to him by spreading your legs and presenting the red mess he’s smeared all over you. Inviting him.

He glances up at you as he watches, saying nothing, thinking nothing except for the fact that– you are perfect. 

In every way, spread out and dripping blood, perfect.

You feel an intense jolt of pain shoot through your body just seconds later, followed by a loud and almost animalistic moan from the man between your legs. You lift slightly as you try to look down at him, witnessing the way he sucks the flesh of your thigh into his mouth, blood weeping from the new wounds his teeth create.

So much blood. He’s the one drunk now, utterly fucking mesmerized by the amount of it you pour for him. Your fleshy thighs offer the freshest, he couldn’t help but take a sip before giving you what your quivering body is truly begging for. He has to quench the genuine thirst before playing with his food, at least. 

And as you watch him it’s like you’re nothing but a piece of meat at this moment. He’s sucking and sucking against your thigh until you’re sure your toes are numb. They’re tingling, and you can physically feel the blood being pulled from you. As if his teeth are two syringes seeping it out of you. 

Af if they are. Not because they actually are, right?

And by the time your toes are effectively filled with static, he finally releases the fleshy bite on your thigh. You stare down, listening to him smack his lips and lick the corners of his mouth, seeing the way he doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he’s turning his attention and burying his tongue into your crimson coated cunt. Without warning, but with so much eagerness with his tasting lips. 

Your eyes flutter with a loud and strained gasp, eliciting a groan of his own to bubble into the blood that falls against his tongue with each passing pulse of you. He licks in time with your heartbeat, which is fucking insane that you can tell he does it. Never before now have you heard your heart beat so loudly, so frantically in your ears. 

And you would be embarrassed, perhaps even worried that the taste is awful. Maybe it’s too much for him, maybe this kink is all just for show and this is a limit he’s only willing to try once before realizing himself that he doesn’t necessarily like drinking the blood from a woman’s pussy…except– Sunghoon gives you no reason to feel like any of that is true. 

No, no. Oh no. He’s fucking relishing in it and you can tell by the way he moans and skews his head to dig his tongue deeper. You can tell by the way he smothers himself, not coming up for air for even a second of the time he’s spending down there. 

And god, you can feel the mess of it all. Sticky, smearing all over your thighs when his fingers trace you mindlessly before gripping your thighs just to pull you down the bed, closer against his face, sliding his tongue ever deeper.

Moaning, fucking slurping it out of you without so much as a breath. 

He’s not breathing.

And now? You panic, focusing more on the time he’s spending burying his mouth and nose into you than the feeling of it. Your hand shoots down into his hair, pulling his head back and away from you. 

Then your breath is caught in your throat at the sharp image. His eyes blown out, widened at you. Nose, cheeks, chin, tongue all glistening with sticky crimson slick, and a smile.

He smiles at you. 

At least before his tongue is clicking and he’s poking it into the side of his cheek before reaching back, grabbing your hand, and shoving it out of his hair before sinking his face right back between your legs. As if to show you that he was annoyed by that. 

You don’t get to think about it though, because this time he’s licking you more frantically than he already was. Fast tongue flicking and fucking you, his teeth dragging against your pussy lips, refusing to let you believe that he wants to breathe fresh air right now. 

Your hands find purchase in his hair yet again though, and you feel him grip your legs and stiffen his shoulders to keep his head in place just in case you try to pull him from you again. You hear the deep growl. You feel it rumble against you as if to warn you to keep your hands to yourself if you’re not going to let him do exactly what he said he would fucking do. 

So, you don’t pull him away. Instead, you play in his hair with your weak hands. Twisting and twirling strands of it between your fingers until he’s pulling his tongue back on his own. 

A shock to you, truly, that he does it at all. But you guess it makes sense when you feel another sharp pain in your thigh, right below the preview bite he had given you. 

Just when you were gaining feeling back in your toes too. 

And he goes back and forth like that for a while, until his face is utterly soaked in diluted blood and pussy-slick. Until he needs to look at it pulse, and watch how beautiful you still, fucking still, have more to pour out for him. 

He’s amazed, really. Never has he served himself a woman that’s openly bleeding for him like this. After all, he prefers to drink his dinner from the carotid artery and be done with it. He was far more creative back in the day though, you know, when his cock still worked. 

Most of his sexual pleasure came from drinking alone. Never getting hard but always reaching climax in one way or another when he gets that last, delicious drop of blood from his victims. But now? Oh, now. You’ve stirred his arousal back to life. Not from pure hunger, but lust.

It’s been so long that he’s lusted. So, so fucking long since he’s cared enough to fuck his prey or give in to the temptation of menstrual blood. In fact, he can’t even recall ever allowing his victims to fall away from the drowsy lure he puts them in. Many of them didn’t know what was happening to them before death and he preferred it that way. 

Until you. An average looking commoner with insane fucking blood. Devilish blood. Divine, demonic, angelic, fucking celestial tasting blood. 

After all this time, he’s had beautiful face after beautiful face. He’s had men, women, celebrities, false-prophets, and even purely divine bodies.. But you…oh no, he can’t simply kill you like those utter throw-aways.

There was a reason he didn’t end you the first night. Something in him caught fire on the taste of your drunken blood. The alcohol you had ran through his veins along with a taste he’s never once fathomed existing. It was the first time in hundreds of years where he forced himself to let you walk out of his quarters. 

Blood with no comparison. So thick, so sweet, so…damning. How could he have just killed you there? How could he pretend like it’s not addicting? Like he didn’t want you to continue producing more and more of it, all for him to drink up?

Of course he wants all of it. He wants to drain you to your last fucking drop, but then he’d never taste it again. Not in thousands of years, at least. So now, as his cock pulses awake and your heavy flow only produces more and more for his hungry mouth to lick up– fuck.

It’s been so long since he’s felt something for a victim like this, and even longer since he’s wanted to use his cock. No, needing to use it. It feels almost foreign to him now after so many centuries, to fuck and eat at the same time. To indulge in all the pleasure, and not just the one that keeps him alive. To want you to feel the pleasure too, to need you to want him without the false sleep forcing it.

You. 

You’re the one. You’re the one he’s going to keep. For as long as you’ll let him, and when you stop letting him, he’ll have no choice but to lure you again. Forever. All for him. 

“Love,” He rasps out, staring at the way your pussy shines so prettily in front of him, the pulse drawing him to near starvation despite being drenched in his meal. “Never have I wanted to fuck before I–” 

Kill, is the word he almost used. It’s instinctual, but instead he releases a moan from his throat at the mere thought ignoring that instinct. Drinking, sipping. Forever just a fucking appetizer and never the full meal. He can settle. He will settle.

Never. Truly never has he wanted to stop himself from drinking just to fuck and he needs you to know that. The feeling is too erotic for even him to comprehend right now, meshing with his hunger and making him feel –-

Gods be damned, he could kill you. 

He should kill you. Given the fact that he has never let a meal leave this room without being drained entirely. Never while they’re awake and fully aware anyway. Insanity. You’ve made him go insane, losing his wits enough to treat you as something more than a victim.

Despite hunting you as one. Despite never having to hunt anyone like he has you. Wanting you to be here willingly. Wanting you to love the feeling of his thirst. Wanting you to learn how good the drain feels. Wanting you to know what he is and needing you to love it. 

Needing you to stay alive. 

Insane. 

He’s fucking losing it.

He knows that if he can never smell this scent again, if he can never taste it, or have your fingers in his hair, if he can never want to fuck again? Oh, he’d crumble. 

He’d take a walk at noon.

You’re not dying tonight. In fact, never shall you feel the cold slab of a morgue freezer if he has anything to do with it. No blood wasted when it comes time for you, and no life truly lost either. 

If just for the sex. If just to quench a never ending thirst. 

If just to live in insanity.

“Before you–” You release in a breath that he chases. As if craving the life under him like an animal. “Before you, what?”

“Kill.” He whispers as he swallows each breath of yours, tasting the sweet sleep that you once held in your body. His own eyes feeling drowsy as if you have your own lure on him now. 

Even the panicked gasp you release at his choice of word there, he swallows it, kissing you hard in a drowsy groan and smearing the blood all through the kiss, letting your breath rumble out of his mouth as if the moan were from his own lungs. 

“So vacuous.” He chuckles now, feeling the pleasure of his cock jolt through his body. He presses himself between your legs, relishing in the sticky blood seeping straight through his sleep pants. “Do you feel that?” He continues, rutting against you as if he’s a virgin of all that he’s experiencing right now, licking each smear of blood from your cheeks and chin. 

“Ah, Sunghoon,” You groan, but you try to be serious in your tone. Feeling the orgasm that once was bubbling up settle back in your stomach. “You’re making a mess.” 

“Mm, I am.” He mutters mindlessly, pressing harder against you now as the taste settles in his throat. “Love, tell me. You feel it?” 

Of course you fucking feel it. 

The nod you lend pleases him, knowing that it’s not just his imagination. Finally, he can feel the warmth of a living being wrapped around him. Finally, he doesn’t feel so cold. 

“You can’t fathom what it is that you do to me,” He continues his sweet talk, running his lips down to your neck, leaving trails of that blood all the way before immediately piercing his teeth into the same wounds he left on you already. He feels your pulse against his teeth when he sucks and only groans weaker against you as he ruts. 

“Ah–” You wince in pain again, feeling the wound reopen with a cold and sharp prick. The pain ignites something inside of you to press your hips up, sliding yourself against his red-drenched pants. 

He chuckles into his bite at your willingness, his hands reaching straight down to shove his pants down in one movement. Euphoria runs through him at the feeling of your warm blood against him when he presses back against you.

Really, the feeling alone paired with the taste of your fresh blood yet again only drives him to keep going. After all, he has all the time in the world. His intention to keep you here only lends him the ability to press his length straight into that bloody, sopping wet hole of yours. The one pulsing for him, the one that lends his favorite smell, taste, and feeling in the world. 

His teeth are forced to retract when he throws his head back at the sensation of sinking deep into your cunt, one fluid motion reminding him of how much he loved this feeling before. How often he’d fuck, and fuck, and fuck until suddenly, he just– couldnt. 

You’ve ignited so much life within him, even while doing nothing more than lying here bleeding. No longer does he feel bored with the world considering he’s managed to find you in it. He could possibly even love you if you let him.

Especially with the way you react nearly the same as he does. As if you haven’t fucked before. As if you’ve never mixed scents with another being before ever coming to this city to chase your own demise. The little sounds you make could be so much more than what you think they are. 

They’re so similar to the ones you make when he bites, when he sucks, oh, so so similar. So deeply seeped in pleasure, pain, hesitation.

“Darling, are you afraid?” Sunghoon manages to say as he feels himself warm from inside of your tense body. “Do you believe me now? Do you understand now?”

You frantically shake your head at the tear of his cock spreading your walls open around it. That one slide rendering you near faint considering the amount of blood he’s taken from you already. The feeling of…ice. It’s in you, running from your veins all throughout your body. So, so, fucking cold. 

No, no, no. No living being on this earth could feel this hard inside of you while being this…oh. His hands have been cold on you too. Always. His scalp under your fingernails as you scratched. His lips, his tongue, all of it was freezing until your blood was coating him. Everything about him is ice.

Still, you shake your head through the pleasure, cock warming him both literally and unintentionally. He just sits inside of you, feeling the beat of your heart gush that same blood past his length and out of you. Your eyes slightly open to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see. 

He’s smiling. His eyes are…brighter.

“C–cold.” You manage to stutter out, nearly feeling brain freeze from the way he pulls his hips back and plunges into you again, warm blood splashing out and against his pelvis, coating your thighs more. And oh, that bite on your thigh, it’s dripping again. 

“So cold, yes?” He chuckles when he dips down, moving his hips steadily in and out of your sticky mess. No longer thirsty, just…aroused. “Do you understand?” 

You frantically shake your head again, grabbing onto him from over his shirt. You’re panicking inside, your fingers gripping so tight, trying to find heat. Needing heat. 

How did you not think about this more? It took this to recognize that he never warms? And he’s smiling at your panic? 

God, but it feels so, so fucking good. 

“Love,” He coos at your panic, pistoning his hips easily with the slide, bringing both of his hands to your face and forcing you to look at him. “I’m dead.”

Ah. 

So he is. 

Yet, the feeling of him inside of you feels better than you’ve ever had. The way his hands hold your face, the way his eyes blow out for you, the way his entire face is tinted in red. He’s so alive yet…

Entirely dead. 

“You’re afraid?” He asks through his own forgotten pleasure, wanting you to stay but entirely willing to put you to sleep so this doesn’t have to end. 

“Sunghoon,” You interrupt any words he’s about to give you, opting to continue fighting the truth when you note the softer tone of voice he uses despite the quickening pace of his hips. “Harder.”

Oh, the fire within burns colder than it ever has at those words. He doesn't even need to pull you? You don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening? You’re accepting him? 

If you want him to go harder, he’ll make you feel like no other. Harder he goes, using all of his pent up frustration of not being able to drain you fucking dead, all of his strength, all of everything he’s missed out for the past centuries– all of it. It’s behind his thrusts now as he slams into you. The blood that splatters out only makes the moment all the more grand to him. 

Breaths leave you with each slam, the sticky sound from below being drowned out by the sheer sound your heart rate in your ear. You’re still panicking, but you can’t help but want more. After all, surely what’s left for you after he’s done is….no, it’s not real.

He feels the fear pulse around his cock and moans out at it, the squeeze so tight, the gush so delicious. This entire room smells of you, and he wants it to be fucking drenched in you. The fear inside of you right now only intensifies the pleasure, and he knows he should be calming you through it, he knows he should tell you that you’re making out of this alive, but–

The way the heart beats so frantically when one is terrified. You’re dripping with fear, the smell of your blood intensifies with each petrifying pulse squeezing his cock to the point he feels his own heart make an attempt to pulse. Your life runs through him entirely out of fear that you’ll lose it. 

He can’t tell you, not when your body reacts so flawlessly. Exactly how it’s supposed to react. So delicious is that fear, he wonders if it makes your blood taste any hotter. He dips down, sinking his teeth into your neck once again and confirms his suspicions. It does taste hotter, sweeter, and it pumps itself so beautifully against his eager fangs. Almost as if you truly bleed for him, because he’s not even needing to suck for it at this point. 

It just drips, and pours, and bubbles out all for him to swallow up. 

You push through it though, the pain is so good, and if this is what it’s like to die, perhaps you’ve found yourself in a lucky position. At least you’re not being ripped to pieces by a stranger, or crushed beneath your own car on a highway. At least this way, you’re being held and seemingly adored.

And the fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline in your body forces it out of you. A rush of heat slamming Sunghoon right in his gut when you convulse under him. Legs shaking as you moan out both in disbelief and intense ecstasy. The blood tastes even sweeter now for him, so sweet that he has to pull back in a guttural and demonic growl.

It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a woman cum around him. His own body reacts in an instant, releasing his own thick secretion into you as you shake through it. Sweating, panting, drooling, crying, bleeding. All for him. 

And the explosion behind his eyes is a reminder to keep you alive. He forces himself to keep the inhale from happening as he plunges into you one last time, coating the inside of your bloody walls with a flurry of freezing ropes. Amazed at the feeling he has long forgotten, his body shakes through it and renders him near psychotic for the release. 

You continue to shake with him, shivering at how the man makes you feel as if you’ve been lying in snow for days, but you keep your eyes closed. 

You’re terrified of him, of this, of the truth hitting you square between the eyes as if it wasn’t obvious all along. Fantasies, legends, fairy tales. How many of them are based in reality? 

You know what’s coming now, based on those same stories. 

The last bite, the drain, fuzzy images, death.

And you embrace for it, trying to relish in the post-orgasm bliss before it happens because you know there’s no way to run from him. If he’s truly what he says he is, there’s no chance in this world that you can stop him. You’re going to die, and the strange way in which your brain accepts the inevitable is more calming than petrifying. 

You never knew you’d be able to prepare for it like this, but here you are. Waiting for it. Accepting it. And when you feel the air of his body shift down to you, right up against your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.

His cold hand tilts your face and all you can do is anticipate as you feel his teeth graze the abused and swollen marks there. 

Here it is. 

You inhale deeply, hoping that if there’s an afterlife, this last breath will be a good memory for you until–

A kiss.

He kisses the wounds. He licks them. He nuzzles his cold nose against them, and then he pulls out of you and lays directly on top of you. 

It’s silent as you lay here, still trying to prepare to fucking die and he’s just prolonging it? 

“Get it over with.” You gripe, frustration dripping out in your weak voice. 

It’s laughable, really, that you’ll sound so argumentative and petty over the loss of your life. So laughable that even he’s chuckling about it, right against your ear with no breath fanning against your skin. 

“Get what over with, darling?” He asks, not having felt this drowsy drained state in so long. 

Your mind is racing though, seemingly trying to think of everything that has ever happened in your life onto everything you wish still could happen, only to consistently land on the fact that you don’t want to believe what’s happening. 

You know very well the denial you’re forcing yourself into, even in the face of demise, you don’t want to believe any of this. 

“I still can’t believe that you’re— No,” You dead-pan before taking in a terrified breath, still keeping your eyes closed. “They’re not real.”

“I’m very, very real.” Sunghoon argues back, infatuated with the denial you try to keep. “You know that I am.” 

“So, you have to kill me then?” Your voice gets smaller as you accept the truth little by little, your breath shakier. “Fucking get it over with then, stop trying to savor it, it’s not like I can run now, right?” 

You still like the way he laughs, so breathy despite having no breath of his own. And through that laugh, he lends another kiss before you feel all of that weight lift from you and dip onto the bed next to you instead. 

“Don’t beg for it.” Sunghoon warns, pulling away from you and forcing his instinct to remember the release of the orgasm he just had. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you ask me so prettily.” 

You pause, your eyes opening against your will as you look at him. He’s facing away from you, but you can see the damp blood drying in the strands of his hair. Your eyes trail down, a puddle of blood staining nearly the entire lower half of the bed and it’s still dripping out of you. 

Or perhaps, that’s whatever it is he fucking shoved into you and fucked out of himself. 

“None of this is happening.” You say to yourself. “I did not just fuck a vampire.” 

“You’re right.” He comments with another laugh. “A vampire just fucked you.” 

Well. You’re still not ready to believe that. Even with the absence of heat, even with the lack of breathing. 

“Prove it.” You ask, unsure as to why you’re wanting it both to be real and just a dream.

You back away when he immediately does as he’s asked. Turning to you and crawling over you. There, he lowers his body, chest to your cheek. 

“Listen.” He says, reaching to hold your face and press it up and against his chest. “Anything?”

You wait, listening for a thump, anything to prove he’s wrong. Fucking any sound at all to blow his cover. 

You’re frozen as you listen, your body going into fight or flight as the seconds turn to minutes. Unfortunately, your body is not a fighter, nor a flier. You’re stuck with his hand on your cheek, holding you so tightly against something you wish was alive. 

A little thump, thump, thump could be the most relieving sound to you, but no. There’s nothing. 

You pull away from him now, body still frozen but head running a mile a minute. How many proofs does he need to provide for you to understand that it’s not fantasy? 

And finally, you feel your body jerk away from him on its own. He’s startled by the movement and you use that short second to roll off of the bed. You do your best to stand, but your brain immediately pulses in pain. Your vision goes fuzzy, dizzy.

Right, you’ve lost a lot of blood tonight. To think your toes aren’t still numb, to think you’d be able to stand without dropping to the ground.

“Thousands of years.” Sunghoon stands quickly, stalking over you and wrapping his arms around you. There, he presses you back on the bed and straddles your hips. “I’ve never told another soul and let them live to remember it– until you.”

You shake under him, the weight feeling more dead now than it ever has. He’s heavy as he holds you down, but somehow his grip on you is gentle. His voice is soft. His eyes are hesitant. He’s not holding you here to hurt you, it seems.

“My love, I told you time and time again,” He glances away from you, feeling something within him shrivel at the thought that now you’re unwilling. “Is it different now? To find that I’ve told no lies to you?” 

Still, he soothes you as you try to comprehend reality. You think hard through the dizzy fog of blood-loss, running more with your mind than your body. He did tell you. And you’re still alive. He just drank and drank from you, and you’re still alive. 

He came to your apartment, he told you he smelled you. 

He’s never lied. 

You just refused to listen. 

He drank you, he fucked you, he held you, and now he’s holding you. 

“I don’t want you to fear me.” Sunghoon admits with sad eyes, trying to ignore how long it’s been since he’s felt sad at all. 

So many emotions you force him to feel, this was not one he was looking forward to. 

“How can I not be afraid?” You breathe out in slurred speech, as if to mock him, because you now know that he truly can’t do it himself. 

“It’s too late to be afraid.” He says apologetically. “You’d have died weeks ago had I wanted it.” 

Why are you still falling in love with his voice? With his stupid grammar, and his horrifying dead-skin? Even with the fear in your stomach, why does this make your heart flutter?

“I’ve never felt so full,” He admits now, releasing his grip on you slowly. He can smell your heart slow, knowing you’re starting to calm now. “Until now.” 

You stare up at him as your eyes recover back to clear vision, in awe of how gentle a killer is being with you. Inspecting the way he’s drenched in your blood, yet you truly still are breathing. He could have killed you time and time again. 

But he didn’t. 

He’s never once lied to you about what he is, and still you struggle to believe what he says. Even when his words match his actions. Sure, he’s a vampire, but he’s not going to kill you? 

What reason do you have to believe him save for the blatant truth behind it? Do you want to believe him? Would you rather be dead?

He knows you can’t fathom the truth so quickly though, and that’s why he’s being gentle. He has nothing more than patience to give to you, if it’ll end in your acceptance anyway. The fact that he can hear your heart beating correctly again only gives him hope that he’s right about not having killed you on the first night.

After all, he truly hasn’t lied to you. Never has he felt full, even after killing several a night. Always hungry, always thirsty, always needing more and more of the syrupy life strangers offer to him under his lure. But you. Entirely aware, flowing with blood that drives him crazy…you’ve managed to fill that desire in him. 

Why should he lie to you? Why would he kill you if there is no need? Despite fighting the instinct, he’s satiated by you. His cold body warms with yours. He will never get enough of you, so how on earth could he just…take that away from himself?

And you do stop fighting. In fact, you lay with him in a bloodied mess and sleep. Despite wanting to ask questions, wondering if he can even sleep at all. Your body is tired, your mind is still petrified, and your hands still cling to the source of it, unsure if you’ll make it to morning at all.

Still, somehow, this feels holy. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

PART TWO

[jellys-compendium]

Red Handed

A König x f!Reader Oneshot

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: After your poor performance on one of your squad's training exercises, you've been punished by fulfilling laundry duty for the entire facility for a month. It's a thankless job, but maybe it will help you figure out who the hell has been stealing your panties. Cw: smut (pwp), mutual pining, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, panty kink, panty sniffing, pet names, size difference/size kink, mask kink, semi-public sex, masturbation, mutual pining, König is a bit of a pervert but he's also awkward, shy and sweet and eats pussy like a champ. Word Count: 3k A/n: This fic is for a dear friend of mine. I hope you enjoy it!

It’s 5:12 AM on a quiet Sunday morning, and mostly everyone in the compound is fast asleep.

Normally, you would be too. But rather than enjoying that sweet extra few hours to sleep in on the one day you have off, you instead find yourself with your teeth grit and cursing under your breath as you haul the last enormous load of laundry into the KorTac facility’s laundry room. 

“This is your punishment,” Your superior officer’s words replay in your mind like a broken record. 

“For your abysmal performance in the last training exercise, you’ll be assigned laundry duty for the entire facility for the month.”

Sheesh, what an asshole. While you understand that this is how it goes in any military faction, it’s not like the man had to assign you to laundry duty for the whole damn month. 

Your comrades had of course taken full advantage of the situation, flinging their dirty socks and other unmentionables at you with childish glee as you passed by their bunks with the laundry bin. Of course, you had returned every little quip with one of your own.

“Thanks mom!”

“No problem, least favorite child.”

��Can you get my boxers smelling like roses when you’re done? My girlfriend would love that.”

“Sure, but I don’t think your hand is all that picky.” 

The banter had been amicably scathing for the most part, but admittedly there had been some days where the teasing had frayed your nerves. Unfortunately, that group of lovable meatheads really struggled on picking up on when you’ve had enough. Luckily for you, on those days salvation had come in the form of one very unlikely character.

König. The charmingly awkward 6ft10 giant that could snap a man’s spine over his knee without breaking a sweat.

“That’s enough teasing from you all. Let her do her job in peace.”

As you load the huge pile of laundry into the washing machines, your mind begins its usual circling around thoughts of König. You like him. A lot.

You’ve liked him from the moment you first laid eyes on him nearly a year ago. There’s just something about his dorky personality, coupled with his awkward charm and humongous presence that makes your heart pound excitedly in your chest. Absolutely every single person in the facility knows about your crush too. Well… everyone except König. 

König is a bit of a weird and mysterious person. Sometimes he does and says things that don’t really make a lot of sense. You’ve also come to discover that König is pretty secretive about his past, never giving anyone too many details about where he comes from or who he really is. 

But the strangest thing about König is that he always has his face covered, even when he’s off duty. As the two of you developed a closer friendship over time, you’d mustered the courage to ask him about the mask one day, but König had simply let out a nervous little laugh and said,

“Ah. I’m sorry, I’m just a bit shy, häschen.”

Also, yes, häschen. The huge Austrian man you had a not so secret crush on had given you an affectionate little nickname. A nickname that he only used whenever the two of you were alone.

“You’re always so busy and energetic! Like a cu—ah—clever little rabbit, ja?”

Your heart squeezes in your chest. God, you are so down bad for that man. Too bad that when it comes to your feelings, König is about as perceptive as a bag full of hammers. You can’t quite figure out if he genuinely is that oblivious to your advances or if it’s his way of letting you down gently. For fear of it being the latter, you had decided to not push it and see where things go.

Still, that doesn’t mean you’re not secretly sinking your fingers into your pussy every other night, his name a silent whisper on your lips and his innocent little nickname an echo in your brain.

Häschen.

A tremor travels up your spine, and your thighs squeeze together as a rush of heat courses through your body. Right. Ignoring that. 

Refocusing on your task, you finish filling up one of the many washing machines, slide out the tray, and pour in the detergent and softener before setting it to cycle. Then, you proceed to fill in the next one and the next until finally you get to your own pile of laundry.

As you start to sort your clothes, you realize that you’re running low on underwear again. It’s so weird.

In the last few months you’d noticed that some of your panties had gone missing. Originally you’d thought that it was just a fluke—maybe one of your not so perceptive comrades accidentally dropping one or two behind the machines? But since you yourself had taken over laundry duty, you realized that this isn’t the case. Another pair had gone missing and from right under your nose. 

You had been especially annoyed when you discovered that it was your favorite comfy but lacy little pair too. Either this is a joke in poor taste, or you have a pervert on your hands. Regardless of which one it is, it’s the last thing you need right now.

Sighing, you reach down and are about to finish filling up the last drum with your dirty clothes when you realize that you had forgotten to add one of your favorite hoodies to the pile.

“Shit.” You whisper under your breath. It’s going to be a bit of a trek to head back to your room and get it, but you really love that hoodie and the thought of being wrapped all nice and warm in it once it’s out of the dryer is too enticing to ignore.

Leaving your laundry to sit in the open machine, you make your way back through the dimly lit hallways of the KorTac training facility. It’s too early for even your superiors to be up, so you’re not that worried about being caught padding through the hallways with bare feet and without your uniform.

As you pass by König’s room, your eyes can’t help but linger on the door. He hasn’t come back from his contract yet. It’s been almost two weeks since you’ve seen him and you miss the big guy. 

Even though König hasn’t shown any signs that he’s interested in you beyond being just friends, you still miss seeing him in the mornings. Exchanging some amicable and encouraging words before heading off to your first drill is one of the highlights of your day. Maybe he’s not into you, or maybe he’s just that shy. König’s true intentions are really just as mysterious as the face he hides.

Finally reaching your room, you make a grab for the hoodie that you’ve forgotten at the foot of your bed. Once you have it safely tucked under your arm, you quietly slip back out into the hallway and jog back towards the laundry room. You’d prefer to have your laundry duty done before your comrades wake up and start harassing you for clean clothes.

You slow your gait as you reach the laundry room, but as you silently reach for the door you detect the softest little sound resonating from behind the door.

Is someone there? Seriously, at five in the morning? But then strikes you. Maybe this is the culprit behind your missing panties!

‘Caught you red handed you, jerk.’ You think as you slowly wrap your fingers around the doorknob and turn it. Once the latch is free, you silently push it open just a crack and peek inside. What you see has your jaw nearly hitting the floor.

It’s…König. 

Your eyes sweep across König’s unmistakable, enormous frame as he leans over the washing machine you had left open, his mask pushed up to the bridge of his nose, giving you a teasing glimpse of his lips, chin, and jaw as he presses a bundled wad of red fabric against his face.

Wait…holy shit are those your fucking panties?

A deep groan escapes König’s lips, his huge body tensing as his left hand travels down. You nearly choke on your own spit when he starts to palm at the raging hard on pressing severely against his fly.

Whoa…is that a third leg in his pants or…

Your eyes are glued to König’s hand as it travels up and down his clothed length, his body shudders gorgeously as he moves back to lean against one of the dryers. The sight of the pink swipe of his tongue darting out to lick at your panties has you practically gushing between your legs.

Then, another soft sound, this time a desperate little groan of your name wisps through the air as König’s hips start to roll against his hand. The tiniest little wet spot forms on his pants where the head of his cock rests. 

“You taste so good, mein häschen.”

Then, his thick fingers move towards his belt.

Oh.

You bite your lip, debating on what you should do. The intoxicating thrill that bubbles in your tummy at the thought of watching König stroke his cock to the scent of your pussy is outrageously tempting. But…this is a messy situation. You really shouldn’t be spying on him. But then again, he really shouldn’t be stealing your panties and using them to jerk off.

Fuck. But König wants you too, doesn’t he? He’s pent up and desperate, straining against his pants and you can help him with that. 

Stealing your resolve, you drop your hoodie, enter the laundry room and then slowly close and lock the door behind you. 

Another hot groan escapes König’s mouth. He opens his eyes, those blue pools all glassy and love drunk until they fall on you. The moment his brain registers that you’re in the room with him, König’s entire body jolts as if he’d been hooked up to a car battery.

“Scheisse!”

The mountainous man drops your panties like they’d bitten him, his mask falling back into place as his blue eyes widen into saucers filled to the brim with panic. 

“Ah—uh—G-guten morgen! I s-see that you’re still on laundry duty.” 

König hips shift. He’s clearly trying to hide the massive tree trunk in his pants from your line of sight. A cheeky little grin spreads across your lips. 

‘Yeah, good luck with that, big boy.’

“I am.” You confirm, making your way towards him. König’s eyes follow you like a hawk, the subtle quick rise and fall of his chest the only sign that he’s still flustered. 

Stopping at the discarded panties on the floor, you reach down and pluck them between your fingers. The dark, wet stripe of where König’s tongue had been is clear for you both to see. The heat that pools in your gut as a response nearly has you jumping the man’s bones.

“What were you doing with my panties?” You softly ask, your gaze meeting König’s before lowering down to his cock.

The man freezes up like a statue.

“I—uh—I…”

He’s speechless, and you’re going to take advantage of that. Stepping forward, you close the distance between yourself and König. Once you’re close enough, you place your hand on the throbbing dick trapped in his pants.

König inhales sharply, steading himself against the dryer with his powerful hands. The wet little patch on his pants grows, and you feel him shyly push his cock against your hand just a little bit harder.

Cute.

Licking your lips, you start to palm him, the heat and size of König’s cock makes your heart race and your pussy throb. Being this close to him, you realize that the tip of your head barely even reaches the height of his clavicle. 

Fuck, he’s so huge and powerful. This man could absolutely bend you into whatever shape he wants. You’ve seen him in action many times before and you know full well that König is not a force to be messed with. And yet here he is, complete and total putty in your hands.

Then with a coquettish little wink, you reach for König’s pocket and slowly stuff your panties inside. 

“You know,” You whisper. “If you want to lick my pussy, König, all you have to do is ask.”

Before you even realize that’s happening, König’s massive arms encircle your waist and haul you into the air with absolutely no effort at all. 

Gasping in surprise, your breath is stolen from your lungs as König turns you both around, and after another quick flurry of movement you find yourself pinned against the top of one of the dryers. Pinned, secured, and at the utter mercy of König’s incredible strength.

Your pussy practically weeps.

“Can I then?”

You try and catch your breath, eyes locking with König’s blue ones. You realize that König no longer has a look of startled panic. Instead, those eyes of his are hooded, lust filled, and they are staring directly at you.

“W-what?” 

König’s scorching fingers brush against the band of your pajama shorts, teasingly grazing the sensitive skin of your navel.

“Can I eat your cunt, leibling?”

You shudder, heat pooling between your thighs at the hungry growl following König’s words.

“Yes.”

Your shorts and panties are off you faster than you can blink. And you watch—totally breathless—as König lifts his mask up just enough to reveal his mouth before diving his lips and tongue between the folds of your pussy.

Your body arches, crying out softly as König’s stubbled chin and cheeks scratch pleasurably against your skin. His tongue immediately flexes then flicks against your clit before diving back down to your entrance to lap at your taste.

“Fuck,” König groans sensually, his hands snaking around your hips to grip and pull you closer—burying his face deeper into you. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

You gasp as König’s fingers dig roughly into your flesh, his hot moans vibrating against your clit. Your hips will be decorated with bruises later no doubt, and that thought makes you purr with unabashed ecstasy.

“M-more!” You beg, your hips rutting against König’s mouth. “König, please don’t stop.”

“You want more?” König hums. “Gut. I’ll give you more.”

Those blue eyes flash to yours, and your pussy practically melts as he dives back down to tongue at your cunt—but not before giving you a little cheeky grin first.

God, he’s such a dork. An adorable, massive dork. And you are so head over heels for him.

Your thoughts scatter as König sucks and licks and laps at your flesh. His lips circling and sucking at your clit, his tongue caressing your folds, his breath hot as he whispers hushed praise against your skin in his native language. He feels so good. 

And you want to touch him. You’re so desperate to touch him. But you have to admit, there is something so incredibly sexy about having a man—this man—go down on you while he’s wearing his mask. You don’t even know what he really looks like, but at this moment you realize that you don’t even care.

“König,” You pant, thighs trembling as you get closer to your climax.

“Mmm. You’re close, leibling.”

A statement, not a question.

“Y-yes.” You keen, arching up as he circles your clit once more.

König groans then sucks at your clit, rolling the engorged bud against his tongue as his right hand comes up to your cunt. You groan as he works to drench his fingers with the slick between your folds.

“Need to have something inside you, ja?” He probes your entrance with his thick fingers. “Want to squeeze down on me as you come?”

“Please!” You cry out, eyes squeezing shut as that powerful wave of pleasure crests—on the verge of crashing and pulsing through your body like a storm.

“Yes! König, pleeeease!”

And as König’s sinks two of his thick fingers inside you, you feel him smile against your cunt.

“That’s my good girl. Come on my fingers, häschen.”

König pumps his thick digits deeper inside you, stroking along your walls and lapping at your clit with such force that your body has no choice but to succumb to your orgasm with a ferocity that has you seeing stars. 

Your release rips a high pitched cry from your throat as your back arches and you writhe against König’s hands and mouth. You can faintly hear him curse under his breath, moaning brokenly as he pulls his fingers out of your pussy and laps up every drop of your release like a man starved. 

“That’s it.” He whispers with reverence. “So pretty when you come in my hands, leibling.”

König takes his time helping you ride out your high, his mouth not leaving you until the last of your pleased little shivers leaves your body. Then, he pulls away, licking his lips as he lets his mask fall back down again.

“König,” You mewl, the thrumming pleasure in your body still burning strong as you reach for the front of his pants. 

“I want your cock.”

The massive man groans, his blue eyes shutting tight in an effort to restrain himself. You palm at him, desperately wanting to feel the weight of his body on yours. You want to know what it feels like to be filled up to the brim with him.

But König shakes his head.

“We’ll have time for that later.”

“But—”

The feeling of König’s fingers pressing up against your pussy once more interrupts your sentence.

“You’re very small here, leibling.” König coos. “We’ll have to take our time preparing you to take my cock.”

A debaucherous little shudder courses through your body at his words. Patience is a virtue they say. But right now, it feels a little more like torture. 

You’re about to argue with König, when suddenly a resounding knock bangs against the laundry room’s door. Your bodies freeze like a deer in headlights as you both hear one of your superiors angrily calling your name. 

“Hey! Are you in there? What is this hoodie doing out here and why is the door locked? Open this door immediately!”

You and König stare at one another.

Shit. Caught red handed for the second time today. 

divider source

[coralhoneyrose]

Why Chrom Fire Emblem is The Husband of All Time: An Essay

SO. There was a screenshot going around of a reddit thread asking about how Chrom has managed to maintain such lasting popularity as a Fire Emblem husband even 6 years after Awakening came out. Given how beloved he still is another 5+ years later, I could not resist taking the opportunity to talk about just what I think makes him so great and endears him to players.

Character Introduction:

Let’s start out the same way Awakening does—with Chrom’s in-game introduction. This is one of the immediate ways Chrom sets himself apart. The game boots up and before anything else happens, Chrom is there expressing his unshakable faith in the player character. You take down the Bad Guy™ together, he turns and gives you this wide, puppy-ish smile and then you push him out of the way to take the hit from an oncoming spell in his stead. Right away you know this is someone your player character cares about deeply—and clearly that care is returned, because he’s immediately running over to make sure Robin’s alright.

Of course, as we all know, things go south very quickly after that. But as the cinematic plays out, and you proceed to watch yourself stab him in the chest, the *first* thing he does, the very first words out of his mouth are: “this is not your fault”. Chrom has just been completely blind-sided and arguably betrayed by his best friend, possibly his spouse, and his immediate instinct is to absolve Robin of guilt. He is literally more concerned about Robin blaming themselves for what happened than about his own imminent death. That alone tells you so, SO much about the depth of their relationship. It tells you both how deeply Chrom cares and how well Chrom knows Robin too. And not only that, but his final request, the ONE and only thing he asks of Robin before dying is that they will promise him they will escape from this place. In his last moments, his single “selfish” wish is for Robin to assure him that they will do what they can to survive. Chrom’s final request is for Robin to give him the comfort and peace of mind he can only obtain through the assurance that even though he won’t get out of there himself, Robin will. He just wants to be able to die believing they’ll take care of themselves and be alright—and knows them well enough to realize that unless he makes them promise, they likely won’t.

AND THEN. And then!!!! You jump cut to Robin waking up in the field with all the sunshine and Chrom’s smiling down with the softest expression and his ridiculously blue eyes. He lifts Robin up by the hand and pulls them right up to his face (because he has no concept of personal space, apparently) and OUUuuggh.

Those scenes in direct sequence make me so insane. You get Chrom’s life ending with Robin immediately followed by Robin’s life starting anew with Chrom. Chrom’s unwavering faith in them and his eagerness to extend his hand and bridge the gap between them from the moment they meet until his last breath. The warmth and kindness and love that Chrom treats Robin with is communicated so effectively in the first few MINUTES of the game it honestly makes me feel unwell. Showing how profoundly Chrom cares for Robin immediately endears him to the player. And he only gives you more reasons to love him as the game goes on.

Personality:

There can be a tendency in some corners of fandom to simplify Chrom to just being either a generic prince charming type character or a lovable himbo. I’m not here to police how other people enjoy him, but I will say that those characterizations fail to get at some of the aspects of his personality I find most compelling.

Chrom is deceptively nuanced. While there are certainly ways in which he aligns very closely with the standard jrpg protagonist, I suspect that a lot of his enduring popularity is the result of the ways he deviates from it too. He is brave and loyal and cares deeply for his friends, yes. He has profound conviction in his ideals and strives to do the right thing, as is typical for that archetype…but what makes Chrom so lovable is his determination to keep trying to be good in spite of the ways it does not come easily to him.

We see this in the Valm arc, when he’s struggling to reconcile his own beliefs about justice with his sister’s ideals for peace. We hear echoes of it when he talks about the horrors the Ylissean people endured at his father’s hand and how despite that, he has never been able to understand how Emmeryn forgave them for the cruelty they once directed her way. He has so much admiration for his older sister’s ideals despite the fact that peace is not his first instinct. 

When Emmeryn first sacrifices herself, Chrom is consumed with grief and rage, and it takes some time for him to understand why she made the decision she did. “Peace above all else” is just not how he’s programmed to operate…yet he wants it to be. If you count the drama CDs as canon, then that serves as another excellent example as well—where the message of his sister’s sacrifice is so lost on him that his first instinct is to respond to it with violence and prejudice and hatred directed at the very people she sought to reach out to. For a moment there, we see him veer from the person he wants to be towards what we as the player can only assume is the person his father left him afraid that he would become.

And yet he finds his way back. He stumbles, he lashes out, but his love for his friends and fear of losing more of those he holds dear is able to help him course correct.

I love that tug-of-war in him. I love that we get glimpses of the darker paths he could have gone down and that there are tangible consequences for his mistakes. Early in the game, we see Chrom lose control of his temper and how Gangrel and Aversa are able to take advantage of that to officially declare war on Ylisse. Chrom later tells Gangrel that were he alone, he can imagine losing himself in that need for vengeance but reiterates that it’s love that is able to keep him from succumbing to that.

And it’s not only that he’s able to stop himself from being horrible—his losses are the catalyst for him coming into his own as a leader. He’s able to pick himself up and hold himself together to see their troops through the rest of the war. And he manages that despite the fact that in the course of mere days, he lost both his home and his most important person and has been freshly saddled with the duty of ruling an entire country. That’s…a lot. And really goes a long way in demonstrating Chrom’s incredible strength of character and conviction. We get some wonderful moments of vulnerability where he confesses to being riddled with doubts about his own capabilities and worthiness, but in spite of that, he is still determined to try to be the person that Ylisse needs him to be.

All of this leads me right into another wonderful aspect of Chrom’s personality, which is that he is just…so driven by emotion. He feels DEEPLY, and while the narrative definitely uses that as a way to hurt him and force him to grow at times, something that really stands out to me about Chrom is how the story isn’t here to send a message that it’s wrong for him to be that way. Chrom’s big feelings are one of his greatest strengths in addition to his greatest weakness—they’re what saves his life and ultimately Robin’s too, if you go the sacrifice ending route.

And ya know what? I honestly think that’s such a breath of fresh air. I love how much he does NOT embody the emotional disconnectedness that you see pushed a lot of times with stereotypical masculinity. I love that he is the hero, and he's gallant, and very traditionally "manly" in a lot of senses…AND that he's also very emotional and guided by his heart. If you’re playing with f!Robin then you wind up with a really refreshing inversion of gender stereotypes from that: in which Chrom is the emotional decision maker and Robin is the more calculating and logic driven of the two.

Beyond his big heart, I can’t talk about what’s so charming about Chrom’s personality without touching on the ways he embodies a certain level of gap moe as well. Chrom is so stern and serious, as well as quite charismatic when he’s speaking from a place of passion. But on the flip side of that, we get to see him as an absolute bumbling mess when he’s out of his element. He’s easily embarrassed / flustered, self-conscious about his appearance, and often socially awkward where romance is involved. While these traits may seem of minor importance compared to the whole rant above, I think they’re really important for humanizing and rounding him out.

There are lots of other nuances to his characterization that go a long way in fleshing him out too. Despite being a prince, Chrom is blunt and completely unmindful of formalities. That, along with his impulsivity, definitely gets him into trouble sometimes. He’s melodramatic and blisteringly sincere. He’s a little bit clumsy and doesn’t know his own strength. He has a dry sense of humor and can be surprisingly funny. He’s optimistic and trusting—not due to naivete or stupidity but because he has decided that giving people chances and believing the best of them is an important value to him and one that is worth embodying in how he lives his life. 

Lucina’s presence in the story and his immediate and complete acceptance of her is an extremely effective way of demonstrating what an incredible father he is too. Honestly, he just has really wonderful relationships and deep admiration for a lot of the women in his life and that absolutely earns him points in my book (and I suspect in many others’ as well). When you look at all of that together, I don’t think it’s hard to understand why he’s so beloved.

Design:

Slightly less serious note here, but I think it warrants discussion regardless because character design absolutely contributes to player’s feelings about and interpretation of a game’s cast members.

And Chrom is…well, he’s eye candy, honestly. He’s got the nice, exposed arm, the messy blue hair, the completely nonsensical outfit he somehow manages to look handsome in anyway (his questionable sense of fashion is a charm point, okay?). Add in the square jaw and the surprisingly long eyelashes and he’s just. He’s very pretty. Idk what to tell you. Bonus points for the summer scramble cg where he has the most inexplicably flat butt of all time. And I really do believe that some of the oddities of Chrom’s design lend memorability to him and go a long way in setting him apart from other lords in the series with similar design concepts. The insistent asymmetry across many of his outfits, the fact he’s showing a little skin, idk it just WORKS. Chrom is hot, I don’t make the rules.

Relationship with Robin / the Player Character:

Last but not least, I want to talk about Chrom’s relationship with Robin.

I touched on some of this in his character introduction already, but Chrom is just…the biggest Robin stan. If Robin has only one fan then that is Chrom. If Robin has no fans it’s because Chrom is bleeding out on the floor with lightning in his gut. 

He just has such deep respect and admiration for them. He values Robin’s opinion and insight and thinks so highly of them and their ideas, often serving as an enabler in many cases (setting the boats on fire, the volcano, etc.). Chrom’s faith in Robin is SO unshakable that when his daughter tells him that Robin is going to be magically controlled and forced to murder him, his response is, “That won’t happen because Robin and I love each other so much that everything will somehow be okay. No, I will not elaborate.” And ya know what? He was RIGHT. Their bond DOES wind up being so strong that it’s able to change fate. The narrative is quite literally validating his slightly ridiculous insistence that him and Robin just care about each other The Most of Anyone Ever. He is Robin’s biggest advocate from the moment they meet when he defends them from Frederick’s suspicions all the way to the game’s close when he either assures Robin that their life was worth preserving or, as in the case of the sacrifice ending, that he will spend the rest of his own life searching for them until they return.

Honestly the fact that Chrom was willing to potentially risk dooming the whole world to the fell dragon’s awakening 1,000 years down the line just so he doesn’t have to lose his comfort tactician is WILD. For the game’s hero to literally say “we don’t have to defeat this evil for good, the people of the future can figure it out” JUST so he can keep Robin is absolutely unhinged behavior and I love it. I think it’s incredibly humanizing that he’s a little bit selfish about the people who are most important to him…that despite his willingness to sacrifice himself or run headfirst into danger, he draws the line at losing Robin because he’s already lost his most important person once and he’s not going to let it happen again. Chrom and Robin absolutely come across as a little codependent and a lot obsessed with each other and personally I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And then there’s his love confession to Robin. GOd...

I think that’s the most flustered Chrom appears in any content in the entire game…and it’s because he treasures their friendship so deeply that he is petrified about messing it up or saying the wrong thing. I love that he goes into their S support dead set on NOT telling Robin what is going on but the second he realizes that Robin is under the impression he doesn’t care about them or like spending time with them anymore he is so horrified and desperate to correct that line of thinking that he blurts out the full love confession on the spot.

He’s SO earnest throughout the whole thing, but then at the end he hits you with the whole “this is the best day of my life”, and the “You are the wind at my back and the sword at my side. Together, my love, we shall build a peaceful world, just you and me” (thank you Matt Mercer for your services), and the cg image of him staring right at Robin with what are basically heart eyes and. I just. There were no survivors.

That’s not even their only proposal / love confession scene either! The fact that the game gives us an entirely separate alternate proposal that’s more serious in tone is the icing on the cake. How many ships out there can say that they get not one but TWO canon proposals that are both that good? Truly no one is doing it like chrobin.

Closing Remarks:

Chrom is a well written and nuanced character who struggles and grows over the course of the story while always remaining true to himself and his ideals. His intense and unending trust, admiration, and love of Robin endears him to the player from the moment the game begins all the way to its conclusion. He is kind and good while still being fundamentally flawed (and it doesn’t hurt that he’s very handsome to boot). Bearing all that in mind, while the message of Awakening may be that nothing is inevitable, Chrom’s conceit and execution were always going to lead to MANY of those who play the game coming to love him and pick him as Robin’s husband…and there may be no greater evidence of that then the fact I’m out here writing all of this eleven years after the game’s release.

[carlsdarling]

Homewrecker

Y/N being jealous and stealing Carl away from Enid. Bit more of a plot, then sex. Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral, cheating

You've had a crush on Carl for a long time, almost six months to be exact, when Rick found you alone in a vacant building, took you to Alexandria and you met his son. You were immediately fascinated by Carl and felt attracted to him - by his beautiful blue eye, his swift movements, his badass attitude and the lovable character that stood in sharp contrast to it. Over and over you dreamed of seducing him, at night caressing and fingering yourself, moaning his name and burying your head in your pillow so Glenn and Maggie, who had taken you in, wouldn't notice.

You lost your virginity a while ago, and there really wouldn't have been anything wrong with just approaching Carl and checking out if he felt anything for you, too, but there was Enid. His girlfriend. You were so jealous of Enid that you could have screamed with rage whenever you saw the two of them together. When you caught them making out in the paddock, you wanted to snap Enid's neck.

At that moment, you decided that it was not possible to go on like this and that you would fight for what you so desperately wanted, Carl.

One night, when you knew Enid was on guard duty and Carl wasn't, you went to find him at his house. Rick opened the door. "Um, is Carl around?" you asked. In your hand you had a couple of comic books as an alibi.

"Yeah," Rick replied. "He's in his room."

You walked up the stairs and knocked until Carl called, "Come in." He was sitting on the bed, hastily adjusting his bandage when he caught sight of you. You didn't care about his scar, you thought he was gorgeous, sexy and charming even with it. Carl simply had a great charisma, and you were all the more envious of Enid. But now she wasn't here, and this was your chance. "Hi, Y/N," Carl greeted you in surprise.

"Hi," you said in a soft, seductive voice and approached him, letting one spaghetti strap of your white top slip off your shoulder as accidentally.

Carl blushed slightly. "What... what are you doing here?" he asked uncertainly as you sat down close to him so he could smell your perfume and feel your body heat.

"I was feeling lonely," you purred, making big bedroom eyes. "And I thought maybe you could help me." You licked your lips lasciviously.

"Help? With what?" Carl was obviously a bit dumbfounded in this regard, so you gently grasped his chin, turned his head toward you, and kissed him on the lips. They felt soft and a little rough at the same time.

Carl took a startled breath. "What are you going to do?" He seemed embarrassed, but at least he didn't push you away right now. That gave you encouragement.

"I like you, Carl," you confessed, "I like you a lot, actually, and I want to show you."

"But I'm with Enid," he protested demurely. His expression was difficult to interpret.

"And has Enid ever suck you off?"

He turned bright red and shook his head.

"There you go," you would breathe a series of kisses on his neck, making him groan softly. You'd show him you were better than Enid. "I want to do this for you. That and more. You'll like it, I promise. I want to feel you, Carl. I need you. I need you badly, every night I think about you." Again you kissed him, and this time he returned the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth before hesitantly pulling away from you again.

He obviously had qualms about cheating on Enid, but Carl also couldn't deny that he was already aroused; he was building a visible tent in his jeans, and his breathing was rapid and frantic as his cheeks reddened. He was so cute. "It... it has to stay between you and me, though," he murmured. "You must not tell Enid about this."

"You have my word of honor," you promised, and immediately you were starting to make out and caress each other, until finally your hands slid under Carl's shirt and you stroked his back demanding. He smelled nice, clean and a little bit of fresh sweat.

He slipped the shirt off and tossed it to the floor, and for the first time you saw his lean, lightly muscled torso, the fair skin, the small tufts of underarm hair, and the strip of soft dark hair that ran from his belly button down and disappeared into his boxers. The sight nearly drove you crazy; so you grabbed Carl by the shoulders and made him lie on his back, then undid his belt and also undid the buttons of his jeans to pull them down to his knees. Carl let it happen, his eyes half-closed, and there was a damp stain at his light grey boxers. His cock was at full erection and was clearly visible under the fabric.

You scattered wet kisses around his belly button until Carl began to moan softly, then you grabbed the edges of his boxers and pulled them down as well. His erection really sprang out, his tip glistened with moisture, and your eyes grew wide: Carl was definitely on the bigger side. His pubic hair was dark and slightly curly.

"Wait," he said hoarsely, sitting up and stripping off his jeans and boxers. Carl was now completely naked, whereas you were still clothed. "I want to see you naked too, Y/N," he sighed, fumbling with your top and bra. Without further ado, you took both off, exposing your breasts.

Carl looked at them ravishedly. "God, you're beautiful," he whispered and began to fondle them, making your nipples hard.

"Lick them, please, Carl," you begged, and he gently began to kiss your right nipple, encircling it with his tongue and sucking on it. You cried out in pleasure and were now finally ready for him, wet as sin, but wanted to give him head first.

Tenderly you kissed his length and then took his cock in your mouth. He didn't quite fit, but Carl moaned heavily and curled his fingers in the pillow, lifting his hips as you sucked gently, letting go of him briefly every now and then to kiss the insides of his thighs and his belly. "Please, keep on sucking," he murmured, stroking your head and supporting your movements with his hand until you suddenly let go of him. His cock was wet with your saliva, veins protruding.

Carl was already in a state of complete euphoria, writhing on the bed whimpering softly and begging you to continue. You took off your shorts and panties. "No, I want you to fuck me now, Carl," you whispered in his ear, leaning over him. He grinded his cock against your belly.

"I've never done this before," he confessed, embarrassed.

"Well, I have," you replied plainly. You were only a year older than him, but unlike him, you had already had some experience. "Do you have any condoms?" He nodded over to his nightstand, and you pulled an as-yet-unopened pack out of the drawer. Jealousy flashed through your mind, because surely Carl had made these preparations for his first time with Enid. Well, screw Enid, you thought. Carl took one of the condoms, tore open the wrapper, and placed it precariously on his cock. "Oh, let me do it," you said impatiently, pushing his hand away and putting the condom on him yourself.

He awkwardly tried to lie on top of you, but you beckoned him to stay on his back. "I want to ride you," you said breathless with desire before guiding his cock to your willing pussy. "Be careful at the beginning," you whispered into Carl's ear. "Very gently."

Inches by inches he penetrated you, his whole body tense with excitement. It was wonderful to finally feel him inside of you. Instinctively, he began to make soft thrusts, and you moved your hips synchronously with him. You immediately found a rhythm together, and both of your moans and sighs filled the room. "It's so good," Carl moaned. "You're so tight and hot." His thrusts were getting faster and faster, and he was going into ecstasy, forgetting everything around him. "Y/N, I'm... I'm cumming, I'm..."

"Me too," you said, leaning forward so he could pull you close as he now reared up and shot his load into the condom, moaning heavily. A loud scream escaped you as you also climaxed. You looked lovingly into each other's eyes and shared a long kiss before you dismounted from him.

Carl removed the condom, knotted it, and wrapped it in a Kleenex before dropping it beside the bed, then hugging you tightly. "That was wonderful," he murmured exhaustedly, pressing little kisses to your lips.

"Yes," you replied, "I have patrol in a minute. I have to go," you said regretfully a moment later.

"I don't want you to go," Carl pouted.

You gave him a kiss on the forehead and got ready to leave. "I have to though," you said, gathering up your clothes.

"Um, Y/N..." said Carl shyly. "Can we maybe do this again?"

You jammed your hands into your sides. "Depends," you informed him. "If you pick me and dump Enid, we can do it every day," you offered with a seductive glance in your siren eyes.

The next night, just as you were about to go to bed, Glenn called you to come downstairs. "You got a guest," he said, perplexed. "Carl's out on the veranda."

Carl looked toward you with a smile on his lips as you closed the door behind you. "I just broke up with Enid," he said, embracing you and immediately kissing you passionately. "I want to be with you."

You won.

[waynewifey]

dear mr. wayne — b.w

part one: dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

summary: it’s not easy being a politician’s wife. it’s even harder to love a vigilante. months of negligence make you an easy target to his enemies.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: angst romance & dark action

warnings: swearing; smoking; kidnapping; violence; a bit of gore; “you” is she/her; bruce is the worst husband ever btw

word count: 2.8k

A/N: i wrote this back in january 2022 when the batman movie had just premiered, so kinda off the hype here. i hope you enjoy it anyway. already working on part 2, let me know if you guys would like it! also, this has taken a path way darker than i had in mind so i’m sorry if it’s too much. comments are appreciated!

gotham city, USA.

it's late.

you have no clock nearby, but you feel it in your bones. in your muscles too. it's too late and bruce should be home already. laying in the sofa, only half conscious, you regret telling alfred to go to bed. at least you wouldn't be alone. of course, being married to the batman you knew he would patrol at night often. you were okay with it. but lately bruce had been too focused on his other, and recent, goal: running for mayor. at first it seemed out of character, he was never good with the public or the press. but he stared at thomas wayne's painting in the hall in such painful façade, it made sense all off sudden. you were supportive of it. you showed up to every event just to stay by his side, to show the people the lovable man he was. the man you loved. the man who couldn't even be home for dinner.

the penthouse's elevator dings, opening its doors at the end of the hallway you see perfectly from your seat. your head doesn't lift instantly, like in the first week. instead, a long sigh escapes from your lips as bruce reaches the living room.

"hello, darling." he says, still in motion as he walks the stairway up to the room you shared. not a single kiss, or a hug. you follow him, because what else is there to do? you need to go to bed anyway. by the time you get there, slowly, his suit is already on the floor and he's taking a shower.

"how was the meeting?" you ask, knowing he usually did his Wayne Enterprising meetings — which consisted of hanging out long hours in bars with business men — at night. recently, he started a complicated relationship with a real estate company he wanted to invest in.

"the usual." he stopped fully answering these questions three weeks ago, making the only time you ever talked even shorter. the city has gotten more violent than ever since his batman duties were put on standby.

"any closer to sealing the deal?" you sit on the bed, watching the open bathroom door.

"probably." it's not like he's being rude. well, maybe a little bit. he just doesn't want to talk any more, it's clear on his tone. but it's 2am and you brain isn't working too well.

"when is this gonna end, bruce?" you finally say, as he puts his boxers on. "when are we ever having dinner again? or going on a date? when are you gonna stop treating me like i'm some sort of home decor?" you almost vomit out the words that have been stuck on your throat for days. surprisingly, the heartache doesn't softens. instead, it gets worse. it's like admitting your abandonment.

six months ago, you started trying to get pregnant. it hadn't always been a dream of yours, but the idea of having an heir to all you've spent your life building is charming. you realised you were in the right time to do so, you had just turned 28, bruce was 32, and both had stable careers. a month later, bruce announced his candidacy. and so soon you gave up. you told yourself once he won the election everything would be fine. you would try again. but, realistically, being a mayor was already a lot of work on itself. he wouldn't want a pregnant wife or a child to take care of. after the four years, who knows? he might as well have a new life project. and your family would always stand on the side.

"i don't know what you're talking about..." he doesn't look into your eyes. hell, he barely looks at you. that feeling, the negligence, is enough to trigger the tears. you take a deep breath, making an effort to look composed.

"don't you, though?" your voice is shaken. look at me. look at me. look at me. look at me. he doesn't. "bruce." you call, finally getting his attention. however, the boredom on his face knocks you off your feet, legs trembling in pain and anger. "i just want you to make an effort on us..."

"really? cause that's all i ever done." he's leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in a way you would find attractive in other circumstances. but now he's yelling and you fight back the urge to shrink into the mattress. "do you think i wanna have a kid on this fucked up town? i'm tryna fix this. fix everything!" his faces turns red-ish. something inside of you makes you want to leave the room. you've always been an avoider, that is one of the reasons you hadn't really had couple fights. so, basically, this is very new. "i've got the weight of the fucking world on my back."

"let's leave then" you manage to say, replacing the you chose this. it was true, however, that he was the one to put himself in this position. bruce wayne could've gotten his entire life without working if he wanted to. but he always needed to save everyone, to suffer for other's happiness. he was a giver. sometimes you wondered if he needed to be saved instead.

"you know i can't do that." he mumbles, in a defeated tone. a sigh escapes from his lips, suddenly the tiredness takes over his face. it's almost enough to make you let it go, to internalise your distress again. he really can't, you know that. he feels that the city is his liability, because it was the only thing he had since he became an orphan. but he had you, too. he just didn't acknowledge that.

"and i can't stay like this." it sounds like an whisper, but it's a plead. choose me. please. he seems to read it in your eyes, face contorting in agony when he realises what you're asking for. me or gotham? it's stupid to think he would ever choose you. but you hoped, so desperately, because you would choose him. always.

"let's not do this tonight, okay? i have to be in the office by the morning." tears instantly fall as he turns off the lights and lays on the bed, turning his back to where you slept. for a moment, you're static. his words were final. were you ever in control of something in your life? why were all of these decisions being made for you? mechanically, you stand on both feet and walk to the door. you don't even notice your movement until you're on the elevator. your husband didn't intervene either. this neighbourhood is one of the safest in town, which honestly isn't much but you had to get out. anyway, nowhere is totally safe at 3am.

you walk two blocks, clinging to the fluffy sweater you wore. the depressing air of gotham slows your pace, to a point you start wondering if it was really necessary to be aware. you could feel the city devouring you, starting with your hope. the blue 24h sign lights up the street, in a way that isn't welcoming, but you know the place well enough to not be scared to get in. a bell sounds over the door and wakes up the male behind the counter. he's got long black hair and seems to haven't seen a good night of sleep in weeks. same,you think.

"hi. can i get the blue one?" you point at the camel's behind the man. he nods, quickly putting a pack on the wooden board. the prices pops up on the cashier's display. you pay and go outside. smoking was an bad habit from your college days, when pressure got too excruciating. every now and then you would treat yourself to some cigarettes, for the confidence it gave you. the sense of control to be the one, for once, ruining yourself. the smoke burns your throat on the first inhale and you hold back a cough. you're too entertained by the cigar to notice the black van approaching. it stops right in front of you, and everything happens too quickly for your brain to process. it's all dark.

he's in a meeting, the boring kind.

the kind that has him seated in silence while a representative talks to his employees, who never get to listen to their actual boss. there's a chart being shown on a large tv on the other side of the room. he's not listening, though. he's writing down ideas for a thanksgiving speech. a head pops into the conference room.

"mr. wayne." it's one of the new assistants, hired especially for the election season. he didn't care to memorise her name, because temps usually don't last long. if she hadn't called him, he might've not even looked up. but the room is silent, expecting eyes on him. the girl at the door looks terrified. "you're urgently required outside, please."

he sighs as he gets up from his leather chair. the second the door closed behind him, chatter is heard again. in the corridor, the woman conducts him to his office and they get in. there's a bit of a commotion, four men lounge around his table, all their faces tense.

"mr. wayne, i'm afraid we don't have good news." the head of the marketing team speaks, a man called robert vance. he's probably said the same phrase to bruce about seven times this month, so that doesn't do much. the assistant approaches with an ipad, unpausing a video. "we received this from an anonymous email about forty minutes ago. we weren't able to get the ip address just yet."

the video starts with a black screen, zooming out to show a woman with a bag over her head. she has her hands on her back and is kneeling on the ground. bruce's heart skips a beat noticing the hair falling down her shoulders.

"bruce wayne..." an eerie voice whispers from behind the camera, breathing heavily. "i've robbed an egg from your basket, and you haven't even noticed!" there's a disturbing chuckle and the video shakes a bit. bruce doesn't move, eyes stuck on the screen. no one in the room has done anything other than breathing. someone gulps. "it's been long hours, but we're having fun, aren't we, darling?" a gloved hand reaches for the bag, pulling it out. her face - your face - is dripping blood. you're biting on a fabric, still in your home clothes. bruce's jaw clenches. you're crying, face beaten, in this degrading situation. your eyes pierce the screen right into his. suddenly, a gun is tapped on your forehead and you close your eyes into a sob. your lips mouth please. "i'm running out of patience here, you're running out of time. let's do business, shall we?" he laughs, knocking the pistol on the side of your head, making you fall laying on the floor, unconscious. the spot bleeds. "here's my proposal: you come clean about your father's deal with carmine falcone and maybe i don't shoot little mrs. wayne... or i do both. it's your choice, really. the clock is ticking. tick tock, wayne."

the video stops, the sight of a gun pointed at your unresponsive body burns into his mind. bruce is panting, the adrenaline rushes into his brain. there's a million of plans being built, but none of them seem viable.

"don't let media get this." he managed to say. one of the men in suits says it's too late. the tv flicks on showing a news report on the video. he kicks the side of his table, the contents being thrown across the room. "FUCK! you bastards wait forty fucking minutes to show me this?" he screams, no one can look him in the eyes. a hand runs through his black hair. "meanwhile my wife is out there with a gun on her head! and what have you done? i swear to god, if i don't find her alive and well i'm killing everyone in this goddamned room with my bare hands."

he storms out of there, reaching to his phone to call alfred and noticing the multiple missed calls. fucking silent mode. the sun is setting.

"i got the address." the butler says, instead of hello. a 'ding' sounds in his ear.

there has been pain for so long. you try to remember before the pain. but all is pain. he has to make it stop.

the floor is cold cement and you feel so small in this huge warehouse. the man in the mask knows you can't run. not only you're tied up, but the will had left you long before getting dragged into that van. he sees it in your eyes. so he strolls around, always in that ridiculous dark green overall. then he beats you up for fun. no cameras. just you and the devil himself. you find yourself praying, after all these years. you don't pray to get out, no. you pray so that it ends soon. you pray that the stab wound in your abdomen will get you an infection. you pray that when you close your eyes, you never have to open them again. but the divine has left you in the cold cement.

there's an explosion. your eyes open. there's smoke and dust taking over one of the walls. you're seeing everything horizontally, cheek on the floor. the man in green is just as scared as you were.

bruce wayne busted that fucking wall down. he expected a full team of psychopaths and maybe some more security. there was just one coward in the warehouse. the thing stares at him coming out of the smoke, fingers fidgeting. the batman steps forward. the freak steps back. then turns around, runs to a half broken wardrobe and grabs a gun from it. bruce walks slowly. there's a struggle loading the gun. he takes the opportunity to run and throw the thing on the floor. he bangs his head on it. the vermin screams. he takes one punch. two. tries to reach for the fallen gun. bruce steps on his hand and the loud crack echoes in the room. he screams again. three punches. the mask is taken off. his nose is bleeding. more punches. he holds the neck. the head is turning purple. oh how he wants to kill this little shit. bruce wayne will kill him. it will just take a few more seconds...

"baby, no" at first he thinks he's imagining it. it's so soft, so weak. but he looks up and there she is. his hands loose. right on the corner, chains on her legs. her face is ruined from blood and dirt. her wrists bleed too. the motherfucker chained her. hell is too good for this thing.

bang. on his shoulder. he looks down and the blood is dripping on the freak's face. he’s pushed to the side, holding the wound. tiny white dots obstruct his vision. he grunts through the pain. the man gets up and runs towards you. bruce can’t move. he arches his back, trying to roll and lay on his chest. it feels like he can’t move his arm anymore, like his bones had detached. when he finally does so, the man is escaping through a window. his hand searches for the adrenaline-boost in his belt, grabs it and quickly injects on his leg. it takes a second to get his blood rushing again. he crawls up and jumps through the window, which leads him to a metal balcony.

you’re almost standing, but he holds your chains and a gun to your face. the shooting sound had scared you awake. you can’t believe how close to bruce you finally are, but the conditions couldn’t be worse. you can hear water running below your feet, you don’t need daylight to show you the violent river you’re standing above. this is not good.

bruce has his hands up in the air and is holding himself back to not do anything stupid. the man’s face is contorting into the creepiest smile. no.

everything happens so slowly, yet he’s not quick enough to grab you in time. you’re falling in the air and he jumped after you. for a moment, the world is air. you can’t hold out your hand. your hair is flying in your face, he does not want to die without seeing you one last time. his cape holds him back and the distance between you only increases. you’re gone. the impact comes.

part two

[comradekatara]

Ok we should talk more about sokka and aang because these two dumbasses are adorable together! Underrated relationship

The gag with Katara and blind Toph in season 3 is still the funniest scene in the series lol

yeah their friendship very cute. i like how when they're left to their own devices their respective adhd tendencies combine, that feels very true to my relationships with my friends who also have adhd lol. it's also just really adorable how through aang's sheer lovability, sokka learns to loosen up a little and appreciate life (somewhat, sometimes) in a more relaxed, content way. aang is a really good and highly valuable influence on everyone around him, especially as he counteracts the logic of war and its necessity for violence, which is an ideology sokka not only heavily subscribes to, but to which he attaches his very personhood. aang reminds sokka that he is still a child (he reminds katara of this too, but it happens in the literal pilot, whereas sokka's journey to literally enjoying himself ever is far more gradual and grueling). aang reminds sokka that he is human.

that said, i do think that people tend to be reductive when talking about the value of their relationship. not to single you out specifically, but i do kind of take umbrage with the notion (perhaps unintentional) that all their dynamic is good for is being adorable and funny. calling them "dumbasses" because they can be silly and goofy sometimes, or scatterbrained and absent-minded. i genuinely think that aang and sokka constitute one of the most interesting foils in the entire show. normally when we talk about character foils, we talk about characters who are positioned in opposition to each other, but aang and sokka are fascinating because they're allies (and friends) who nonetheless approach the same problem with the same intentions and the same goals but from completely different angles.

in many ways, sokka is aang's most distinct opposite. but first, to address their similarities: they're both victims of a genocidal imperialist project that has burdened them with a responsibility to their people that they are too young and barely equipped to handle; they are both expected to shoulder this burden easily by those around them due to their nature as "gifted" child prodigies with distinctly unique skillset and an unprecedented ability to absorb and apply new information that they learn at a genuinely abnormal rate (remember that aang is not just the avatar, but an incredibly prodigious avatar at that; he mastered all four elements within less than a year by the age of twelve, whereas most avatars take at least another four years to master their elements); they are both the "leaders" of their small guerrilla militia of child soldiers, and they take turns giving each other guidance and trusting and following the other's lead; they both consider katara the central figure in their lives and love her with an almost obsessive devotion; they both repress their grief and other unpalatable emotions through humor and constant distraction, and sometimes even depersonalize entirely when they feel that their goal is more important than retaining their humanity (sokka does this more frequently, but when aang does it, it's more blatant); and of course, they both harbor massive guilt complexes for the devastating tragedies (largely beyond their control) that have shaped their lives, and are constantly replaying those moments of "failure" as that of acute shame to motivate themselves as they strive to rectify and "atone" for their past errors.

so, as you can see, reducing their friendship to "adorable dumbasses" is already not very interesting. to me, the best aang and sokka scenes aren't the ones wherein they are playing and goofing around together. those scenes are sweet and charming, of course, but the best aang and sokka scenes are the ones wherein sokka is positioned as the logical consequence of aang's grief. wherein present-day sokka becomes the worst case scenario for a hypothetical future aang. in many ways, their friendship is incredibly bittersweet, because it is also punctuated by moments wherein sokka threatens aang's entire value system and quote-unquote "innocence" through attempting to mold him into a Man Of War the way he does those hapless toddlers in his village. for all that sokka is remarkably open-minded and receptive to new ideas, he cannot see past the limits of the world he was born into and the mechanisms and assumptions of violence he was forced to internalize and embody. aang is, of course, totally unique in his ability to not only envision a world beyond the war (i would argue that katara has the ability to do this as well), but also to have actually experienced it. and so it is truly a testament to aang's resilience that he is almost entirely impervious to sokka's ruthless, militaristic logic, even as sokka constantly attempts to enforce it.

i have a much longer post in my drafts about how aang and sokka are positioned in "the serpent's pass" (one of their best episodes in terms of their dynamic, also just a highly underrated episode in general), so i'm not gonna get too much into it here, but katara's relationship to aang as paralleled with suki's relationship to sokka is really fascinating in this episode for the ways in which it also positions katara's grief over witnessing aang's attempt to detach himself from his grief to focus on his goals and aang slipping into "sokkahood," and the absolutely devastating implications of what that must mean for katara. i think there's a strong case, in general, for the reading of katara attempting to replace her lost childhood (with sokka) through aang as he represents a vehicle for her overly idealized nostalgia (much like how zuko projects onto aang and views him as a vehicle to return to that site of his overly idealized childhood), and thus, quite literally, replacing sokka with aang. to katara, aang possesses what sokka has since lost, or perhaps something he never got the chance to have in the first place. and that isn't to say that katara views aang as a brother, but rather that katara longs for companionship in any form, and what is aang if not the ideal companion? so aang's grief and rage scares her not only because it pains her to see someone she loves so deeply in so much pain, but also because it reflects her own pain back at her, as someone who has lost so much, including family members (also including kanna and hakoda) who are, ostensibly (at least physically), still alive.

one of the most fascinating scenes between sokka and aang in the entire show is when sokka straight up attacks aang for burning katara in "the deserter." katara is very clearly affected by this beyond simply the physical pain; being burned by the weapon that killed her mother is explicitly triggering for her, and she retreats into herself and sobs like a child (she is a child, but you know what i mean. an even younger child). and sokka in turn is triggered by katara being triggered, because his entire existence revolves around his oath to protect her, and she was just hurt by the one person to whom she stakes all her hope and pride and joy and affection above all. aang obviously understands the gravity of this accident immediately; it of course wasn't intentional, but he nonetheless takes full accountability and apologizes sincerely. but sokka only calms down somewhat once he knows for certain that katara is okay. and instead of going to find katara as she sobs, he spends all his focus on yelling at aang, throwing him to the ground, more furious than we have ever seen him. and in a way, it's clear that he's also furious at himself, for having let his guard down around and trusted aang, and for his failure to perform his primary duty, protecting his sister. the fulcrum of aang and sokka's relationship is, necessarily, katara. she is the force that brings them together, and the person who is most important to either of them, but she also person who connects them in her mind, and so our perceptions of them as the audience are primarily informed by her perception of them as the narrator.

moreover, sokka's advocacy for killing zuko (in "the siege of the north") and ozai (in "sozin's comet") constitute two more fascinating scenes with aang, for the way in which sokka does not even find the act of killing something to flinch at, let alone an absolute betrayal of core principles and values the way aang does. killing is simply not something sokka feels guilty about, despite the fact that he seems to carry guilt over simply existing a lot of the time. and that juxtaposition, between aang and sokka playing together, of sokka learning how to have fun and entertain his little friend, versus sokka chastising aang for refusing to commit murder, is what makes their relationship so compelling. when people reduce their dynamic to its most comedic and innocent mode, they are reducing their roles as they embody two opposing relationships to violence, and how that reflects their ideological positions as someone who has subscribed to imperialist logic insofar as his values have been shaped by war, as opposed to someone who knows through his own experiences to refute that logic by any means necessary. when we talk about aang helping sokka to regain his humanity, it is crucial to understand specifically how sokka lost his humanity in the first place, but also why aang specifically is so crucial in counterbalancing his logic in a way no one else alive actually can.

ultimately, if sokka represents the voluntary auto-dehumanization of the colonized subject, then aang represents the potential of preservation and even reclamation of humanity and the imaginative potential of a world[view] beyond those colonial limits. their ideological conflict is not simply one of what it means to be human within a colonized paradigm, but what it means to exist at all.

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Cod Men in a Dating Sim

Requested: No

Warnings: Light bit of angst

A/N: Did I watch a bunch of (and by that I mean 3) dating games just so I could get inspiration for this? ……Maybe

Ghost - The Punk/Goth Guy

By far the hardest and most frustrating character to romance, Ghost’s route leaves even the most seasoned completionist in tears. People who attempt to do playthroughs of the game won’t even attempt it, and much of his route is virtually unknown. His trust is hard won and easily lost, even the tiniest of mistakes will affect your whole game with him, to the point that you could very well lose all progress with him at any point. There have been demands and petitions for the devs to change his route, calling him stupidly difficult, not worth the effort it takes. Oh but those select few who get to peek behind the curtain? Those that get to woo him and make him blush, who truly hold his heart? They’re in love, will defend him and his horrible jokes and his sad boi personality until they die.

Soap - The Himbo Jock

Soap, the cheerful and upbeat type. Always doing some sort of high energy sport in his free time, his happiness infecting you everytime you two cross paths, his smile only growing bigger every time you both talk. He always wants to be doing something with you, his arm around your waist, loud and happy and brighter than the sun. Doesn’t matter what type of activity you like doing, he wants to be doing it with you. His route is the easiest to get through and his charm draws in all kinds of people, making him almost unanimously loved through the fandom of the game. To the point that people recommending the game always say that you should start with his route first. He’s kind of the poster boy of the whole game at this point.

König - The Shy Guy

König, the sweet librarian at your local library, always so kind but painfully shy when you try and talk to him. Books almost always clutched to his chest, twiddling his thumbs and ducking his head with a blush rising under his mask if you make even the slightest attempt to get close to him, an absolute mess if you flirt with him. He’s the adorable sweetheart of the game that, even if you don’t want to romance him, is just nice and adorable in general. But when you really get into his route, he is so flirty. Granted it’s only when he thinks you can’t hear (unaware that he has literal subtitles telling you what he says). And he gets so protective, always offering to walk you everywhere and just generally tending to stick around you and show you all sorts of things he enjoys, always eager when you return the favor and show him your own favorite things.

Alejandro - The Flirt

Alejandro likely met you through your mutual friend in the game, Rudy. Coming to visit his old pal and meets you at his home, instantly all over you, suave flirtations leaving his lips every other second as he tries to get you alone every chance he can get, much to Rudy’s annoyance. At first it’s a bit of a game, just another blip in the back of his mind, nothing serious. But as time goes on, it becomes more and more serious, more genuine. His advances start to become a bit softer but now carry real feelings in them. He’s a character that many think is too sleazy at first but come to adore him and his sweet nature as you progress through his route. He’s not as loved of a character as Soap but he is in the top three, tied with Rudy.

Rudy - The Best Friend

Rudy. Sweet adorable lovable Rudy. He is the character who plays the role of the best friend with the long time crush. Very poorly hidden crush by the way. He’s never very bold with his words but his actions communicate his feelings very well. He’s always happy to talk to you, and even listens to you if you’re trying to romance another character and something goes awry. It hurts him but he puts on a good act, even if he distances a bit from you upon learning of your feelings for a different character. His sweet and supportive personality is why he ties with Alejandro in the top three favorites, and many adore him and enjoy repetitively romancing him, never seeming to get bored of finding all his secrets.

[inazumaclown]

idk if i already said it here but i think level-5 is a monument for character design. their characters are memorable in any games or series they produce, even when they're a little too much, their designs have a peculiar, lovable charm, i really really like them.

anyway here's me rating the GO designs of the OG characters :

endou is the fucking favorite. you can tell the studio really did their best for him. even without watching GO, you can tell he's still his old passionate self but in a cool and matured way. you can tell he's coaching kids and you can tell the kids love him and he loves them in return. 10/10.

kidou is great. of course he would be wearing a suit to coach middle schoolers, this is what being kidou is about !

i do think the new goggles are a little goofy, but haruna gave them to him, so of course he would wear them without hesitation. you can tell he's still awfully serious, but also no longer ashamed to monologue about his (occasionally stupid) special interest of the week if asked.

i would have advocated for longer dreads rather than, idk sorta untangled dreads ? but you know what, this is great. 9/10

i'm in love with kazemaru. always has been. his hair is perfect.

i just don't get why he got the coraline's yellow raincoat drip. it tells me nothing about him. i can't guess if he is an athlete, a hairdresser, a mangaka, a drag queen, a military sergeant, a carpenter or a sugarbaby. i'm left alone with my headcannons, and no clue how to prove they make sense. 5/10

i love that fubuki shirou, canonically the prettiest boy in the world, decided by himself to dress like sheldon cooper.

i like that when he put his coat on, he looks like a hobo. he didn't even had to try the hot snowboarder style, he already knew he'll be a good-looking hobo. i like that for him. choose for yourself king, you don't need anything. 8/10

my man looks so good in this. he doesn't realize he looks like the lovechild of yakuza and a mafioso. he doesn't realize why the grandmas are scared of him at the supermarket, but it's okay. i know he's well paid, he's still hardworking and professional, he's stable in all aspects, and he smells like a very masculine, expensive perfume. 11/10

of course, fubuki and him are happy and in love, and nobody gets how it could have happened when they walk side by side.

ah, fudou. some would say his new style is a glowdown, but i almost disagree.

true, he doesn't look punk and alt anymore, but i can tell that now, he's a true leftist. he looks like he doesn't have a job. he always smells like *spicy* cigarettes. everybody in his neighborhood knows and likes him. he owns almost nothing, yet everybody owes him something. he's an anarchist but he still votes, because he wants to do his part for a more peaceful future. he does throw rocks at cops during social movements. 8/10

kidou and him are also happy and in love. they fight all the time for petty things, but it's their way to say 'i love you'.

kabeyama almost didn't change, and that's good. he looks nice and polite and like a wonderful freehugger. i trust him. i could give him my firstborn, i know the kid would be well-fed and in bed at a reasonable hour. 10/10

i don't remember why kogure was in GO. it had to do with haruna i think, which is good, i like haruna. whatever he's just taller. 4/10

sakuma looks nice. the longer hair looks good. he would look better if genda was with him though. 6/10

tobitaka. my boy. he found his place. giving him the rai rai ken was such a good idea. it's not about the looks for him. it's about happiness, and he looks happier now. 10/10

tsunami ! the last member of the B4. he didn't change that much, which saddens me a little, but maybe it was because his design was always good. 7/10

toramaru. same boy but taller. they made an effort with his hair, i'll give them that. he looks like a lost management firm intern. i hope he finds the printer next to the coffee machine. i also don't remember what he does in the series. 5/10

glasses suit hiroto. he looks serious enough to do a serious job well, and still weird enough to say some deranged stoner shit without anyone asking after one (1) sip of unalcoholic beer. good for him. 7/10

midorikawa lost a bit of his theater kid charm, but i guess this is what happens when you work in foster care. he looks like a great mom though. 6/10

i'm disappointed. aphrodi deserves better than a boring ass suit. i mean come on, that man doesn't NEED to look professional, he is literally named after the goddess of beauty, he deserved better than that.

the side ponytail looks good. so sad for the little bleaching accident. he should cut that. 4/10

i can't clown megane. i look like that man. i wish him well. 7/10

WELL THAT'S THE END, I HOPE I DIDN'T FORGOT ANYBODY :D

(gouenji will have his own post.)

[seangelfish]

What they do for White Day (pt.2)

❥ Featured characters: Adonis Otogari, Keito Hasumi, Nagisa Ran, Niki Shiina, Mika Kagehira

❥ Tags: Fluff, established relationships/mutual crushes, stories are based on the !! era, no mention of pronouns

❥ A/N: Part 2 of What they do for White Day! Check out for part 1 here! This is also randomised, but part 3 (final) will consist of fan favourites alongside my personal faves! Happy White Day~ ♡

🤍 ADONIS OTOGARI

Adonis knew what to gift you for White Day the day you gifted him your homemade Valentine's Day chocolates. He knew you very well as the two of you had been together for a while, so he had an easy time arranging the things he wanted to do with you on that special day.

He had cooked you up a meal in his dorm room in which you found the food to be very tasty. The two of you gleefully ate together like a married couple, laughing and telling each other stories. Adonis would try to feed you himself and you'd let him.

But that wasn't the gift he wanted to give you. He handed you a small box which contained a stunning set of white earrings. He had asked his sisters what would look best on you, and they really did come in clutch!

It was a simple celebration, but he took into consideration that sometimes all you wanted to do was relax and stay inside.

"(Y/N), Happy White Day. My love grows for you every day."

🤍 KEITO HASUMI

Your relationship with Keito was a simple one, but the two of you were perfectly happy together. He was attentive and cared for your well-being, but he wasn't as romantic as the boys in the manga you read together.

But you didn't mind. His other characteristics make up for that. He was smart so he helped you with writing reports; he was disciplined so he helped you with your time management. Little things like that were lovable.

The time you gifted him Valentine's Day chocolates, the two of you had mirrored each other's shocked expressions. Keito was surprisingly bashful, but he thanked you profusely, accepting the chocolates with shaky hands.

"T-Thank you, (Y/N). I appreciate it."

He wanted to return the gesture. After all, he did love you even though he didn't show it in the ways you'd expect. On White Day, he gifted you a piece of white jewellery and a short manga he drew and wrote of the two of you. The manga consisted of a short story of how he fell in love with you and in which you could see the way he drew you so carefully and precisely.

"Happy White Day, (Y/N)," he stated shyly. "I'm all yours today, so what else would you like to do?"

🤍 NAGISA RAN

When you presented Nagisa with a box of your homemade chocolates on Valentine's Day, he was delighted, but he didn't think anything of it.

"Thank you very much, (Y/N). I love chocolate."

Therefore, you had to explain the reasoning behind why you gave him those chocolates in the first place.

It was barely noticeable, but a pink hue appeared across his cheeks when you told him you loved him. Smiling softly at you as he acknowledged your feelings, he admitted that he felt the same way about you too.

He remembered what Ibara said about White Day which was a month after Valentine's Day, so he started preparing something special for you in the weeks between that. He wanted to reciprocate your efforts, so he ended up booking a fancy restaurant for the two of you to enjoy, and then gifted you a white charm bracelet that he helped you put on.

"Happy White Day, (Y/N). I love you. I truly feel at ease whenever I'm with you."

🤍 NIKI SHIINA

Oblivious as he is, Niki thought the chocolates you gave him were a gift for working hard, but when he asked the other members of Crazy:B where their chocolates were, they looked at him in disbelief.

"Niki-han, you know (Y/N) gave those chocolates to you for Valentine's Day, right?" Kohaku had to clarify.

"S-Seriously?!"

Frankly, he didn't expect you to gift him anything for Valentine's Day, but then he realised that you liked him in that way which made things worse because he had just thanked you for the chocolates and walked away.

He decided to apologise the next day, but you brushed him off, telling him it was okay. He tried to accept your feelings as he felt the same way, but he never really had the chance to. With both of your busy schedules, he never got to fix things until White Day.

He had to beg you to meet him that day. Already prepared, Niki had made you lunch AND dessert, so when he finally got to meet you, he professed his love.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)! I really really like you too!" he confessed. "I cooked all this for you, please accept them! Happy White Day!"

And of course, you were going to accept his gifts and feelings!

🤍 MIKA KAGEHIRA

Mika was extremely surprised to see you in front of him with a box of chocolates in your hands. He even tried dismissing you away because he truly believed you got the wrong person. When you stated that you were giving the chocolates to him, that they were addressed to him, he blushed a deep shade of red. He would've never thought you would ever like him back!

He accepted your chocolates and your feelings, and the two of you grew closer than before, establishing your relationship. Mika knew that he should repay your love back on White Day as he always dreamed of doing so. He was already preparing in between the two days, scribbling in his sketchbook on what to gift you.

On White Day, he surprised you with a handmade plushie that he had beautifully sewn himself. It was decorated with bows and craft jewels, reflecting the image of you. He had also gifted you a bag of hard candies some of which were his favourites.

"Happy White Day, (Y/N)!" he chirped happily. "Thank you for loving me back. I really hope you like everything!"

Intro page | Ensemble Stars masterlist | Rules

[writingquestionsanswered]

Hey! I've written a first full outline and a few scenes (YAY) and I'm kinda worried that the readers will catch on that I actually have a favourite character. I'm attached to all of them, but this guy is Special - he has traits I really like, an arc I'm excited to write, he's bit of a self-insert, bit of a wish fulfillment, the whole thing. How can I hide my fondness from the reader? If I let it shine through too much, it'll kill any charm this character is supposed to have :(

Hiding Character Fondness from Reader

Here are some things to be aware of:

1 - Keep the Plot on Track - One of the biggest tells that the author has a thing for a character is when the plot seems to shift in favor of the character. Not only does this character slowly elbow their way to center stage, but the plot seems to completely shift course in order to highlight their conflict/adventures. So, make sure you stick to the plot you had in mind and keep the character's role as you originally envisioned it.

2 - Avoid "Author's Pet" Armor - Another giveaway that the author favors a character is when the character has immunity to every bad thing that happens in the story, even when it makes no sense. They're the one character who emerges from battle completely unscathed (or with superficial injuries), they always draw the long straw and luck is always on their side; and if something bad has to happen to a character, it's never this one.

3 - Avoid "Author's Punching Bag" - Conversely, sometimes author favoritism plays out by treating the character like a punching bag. I guess this results from a hurt/comfort perspective, where the author enjoys putting the character through the wringer because it creates an opportunity for them to be comforted by another character. But when it's the same character who's hurt over and over again, with the rest of the cast seeming to be armored against trouble, it has the same effect as being the one character that's never hurt.

4 - Avoid Special Snowflake Syndrome - Consider all the characters in your story. If your favorite character is always the one with the skills, knowledge, experience, connections, to solve the story's problem and/or save the day, that's a problem. Not only does it make them overpowered, but it means the spotlight will always be on them because they're the one everyone else has to rely on all the time.

5 - Avoid Complete Lovability - This is a big one... there are few people who walk the planet who are genuinely without flaws and are universally loved by everyone who knows them. Real people, most of the time, have flaws. Someone can be the nicest, most generous person in the world, but they could have bad breath or be chronically late, or really stubborn about trying new things. Flaws don't make a person bad, they just make them real. But we all have our pet peeves, too, so if you know someone who is chronically late, they might get on your nerves and not be your favorite person in the world. We want that for our characters, too. They should have believable flaws and not give everyone they know heart eyes every time they walk in the room.

Happy writing!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[your-local-hoemie]

HEAR ME OUT SINCE ITS CHILDES BDAY TODAY RIGHT

What if we spend the entire day with him and then when we come home, we give him another surprise *wink wink* (pls tell me yk what i mean 😭😭 i dont know how to say these things withoit feeling awkward)

NS!FW. 18+ ONLY

AAAAA I’M SO SORRY THIS IS LATE!!! I’VE BEEN HIBERNATING!!!

JUST LIKE PRETEND IT’S STILL HIS BIRTHDAY DHXJHCIXJD

My fingers went nYoooooom! Also don’t feel awkward! I hear you and I shall feed you the crumbs of my brain basement

At least I hope this is what you mean otherwise I’m so sorry for your eyeballs-

warnings: ns!fw, Oral spice, lots of spicy words (I went all in for this one aaAAA), swearing, gn!reader, not proof-read.

Characters: Tartaglia (Childe is the worst name for spice istfggggg)

It had been a busy week preparing for the big day.

You could of been doing commissions, relaxing with friends, enjoying the beach and the warm summer sea, but no-

You had been practically ripping your hair out planning for you boyfriends birthday.

Tartaglia was a very… interesting character-

You knew he’d love whatever you got him but the thing is, nothing felt special.

He had the ability to buy anything he wanted, whenever he wanted. So trying to find something that would impress the ginger was becoming more challenging than his impromptu sparring “dates”.

That was until you caught sight of a small, very discreet looking stall hidden behind some crates near Liyue’s harbour that sold silk clothing that definitely wasn’t intended to stay on for long.

And so began your special birthday surprise~

“There’s my birthday boy!”

Running over to Tartaglia, you flung your arms tight around his waist.

The day In question had finally arrived and so had your mildly insane but lovable boyfriend.

“And there’s my favourite comrade! Didn’t miss me too much now did you?”

Smiling wildly, you rolled your eyes at him before the two of you started catching up on what he had been doing the past few days that he was away.

As a few minutes turned into hours, you both talked and walked around Liyue, visiting your favourite spots and giving him a giant whale plushie that you had spent the last few days seeing together, along with a extremely romantic dinner at the Liuli Pavilion.

When I say romantic I mean romantic-

The table was set with candles and silk flower petals, and not a chopstick to be seen, much to the gingers relief.

“You know, you’ve really impressed me this time. I don’t think I could of asked for a better birthday even if I tried”

“Good thing it’s not over then~”

“Not over? Have my irresistible charms finally decided to accept that sparring challenge you’ve been avoiding~”

Rolling your eyes, you promptly paid the bill before you decide to change your mind about the entire plan.

“No, you know I wouldn’t walk out of that alive. Now just shush and follow me”

Taking his hand, you eagerly pull him along in the direction to your home, not paying attention to the endless pestering of your boyfriend who’s curiosity was doing more than struggling to stay contained.

“Is it a surprise party?? Oh wait, did you kidnap someone for me!? Babe you’re so swe-”

“SHH! No I didn’t kidnap anyone and you should know not to say stuff like that while outside!”

Shaking your head in frustration, you finally reached your door.

Quickly unlocking it, you pulled Tartaglia in with a small grunt before closing it behind you.

“Alright, stay right there. I’ll be back now- and don’t get into trouble!”

“Huh? Wait- where are you going?”

With a giggle, you gave him a kiss on his cheek before running to your bedroom and closing the door.

Laying out on your bed was the outfit you got earlier that week.

Without hesitation, you pulled your clothes off and threw them to the floor, quickly putting on the outfit, albeit with some mild confusion to how it went on.

It was made from a delicate silk, framed with lace and ribbons that hung down your body, perfectly framing your figure.

Giving yourself a quick look over in the mirror, you took a deep breath and opened the door, peeking outside just incase your boyfriend was waiting outside.

Once you found the coast clear, you took a step out as started walking to the living room where you could hear him humming while obviously nosing around your belongings.

“Finally. you were taking foreve…r-”

Dropping a book he had been flipping through while waiting for you, Tartaglia’s expression shifted from shocked to embarrassed, then to a dangerously sly grin as the ginger took in your appearance.

“We’ll, well, well~ is it just the weather or did the room suddenly get extremely hotter”

Instinctively shrugging off his attempts at flirting, you took a step closer; placing your hand on his chest you pushed him down to the couch with a smug grin before sliding down between his legs.

“W-wow, really… really not wasting any time today, are we comrade~”

“I don’t want to keep the birthday boy waiting now, do I~”

With a purr in your voice, you began rubbing against his crotch that was already straining from his… impatience~

Working your hands against the growing tent in his pants, your fingers found their way the button before releasing his erection causing a quiet groan from the ginger who was now watching your every move like it was the most important thing he’d ever seen.

“So hard already? Just for me~?”

Grinning even more as you can’t help a sense of pride rush through your body, you placed soft kisses along his tip, moving down his shaft all the way to his balls before repeating the process, refusing to break eye contact with him.

Spending a few more minutes enjoying watching your boyfriend start to squirm and get impatient under your touch as your hand slowly pumped up and down his shaft, pulling out soft grunts of pleasure from him as you do.

Finally deciding that you’ve teased him enough you start to let your mouth do the work for you.

Still locking eyes with him, you rub his tip against your lips, savouring the taste of his pre already forming a pearl.

With one swift motion you slide his length inside your mouth, making Tartaglia let out a sharp moan as he threw his head back in pleasure.

“O-oh fuck… babe that’s… Ngh~”

You be lying if you did admit that it even shocked you a little, how well you took him all in first try.

Hearing him whimper and moan every time you bob your head up and down his length, enjoying his slightly salty taste.

“Archons, babe… keep going just like that~”

Feeling his hips start to buck into your mouth, pushing his length even further down, making you gag a little bit still not discouraging you from reaching your goal.

“Oh fUuck- babe I’m going to cum…~”

Without any time to brace yourself, you felt his fingers grip tightly onto your hair as he thrust his hips harder, causing you to gag even more and grip onto his thighs for support before he finally releasing his load.

“Holy fuck yes~!”

Pulling back to admire his breathless, shaking state, a trail of white dripping down your chin-

You can’t help but feel a little more excitement for the rest of the night as you pull out a pair of handcuffs from the draw next to the couch.

“I hope you’re not too tired just yet, I’ve got a lot more in store for you yet~”

This was so bad, I’m so sorry hdicufif.

I’m back into doing requests as normal now that’s I’m pretty much completely recovered eeeeee I’ve missed it so much T-T

[kostektyw]

Villainess anime reviews

went on a bit of a binge, so here's a compilation:

I'm the Villainess, So I'm Taming the Final Boss

rating: lots of fun

one of the funnier entries on this list in my opinion, i actually laughed out loud multiple times

the protagonist is a capable and determined lady, as well as slightly unhinged which i always enjoy, i love weird women

breakneck pace, speedrunning like 3 games in the 12 episode, so it is the opposite of boring

this anime has everything: ducks, crows in bowties, crossdressing, ducks, video game brain rot, and ducks

Villainess Level 99: I May Be the Hidden Boss but I'm Not the Demon Lord

rating: at east somewhat interesting (still ongoing, episodes watched: 5)

aside from the gimmick a pretty standard isekai with pretty eh animation

a lot of this show is kinda boring, but there are still interesting and enjoyable moments

the protagonist is charming and probably the strongest part

i will probably be continuing to see what happens next so depending on that my opinion may change

The Most Heretical Last Boss Queen: From Villainess to Savior

rating: charming

one of the series from this list that i enjoyed most, even if the story and the world are a bit simple, the characters and their struggles still work and aren't too difficult to get invested in

a bit more drama in this one, with tragic flashbacks (or whatever they're called if its abt an alternate plotline) that i found maybe a little too frequent

here the protagonist is also capable, driven, and quite traumatized, i wanna hold her in my hands like a baby bird

My Next Life as a Villainess: All Routes Lead to Doom!

rating: cute!

the bisexual harem is a breath of fresh air

bakarina's dumbassery is a great source of comedy, she's also pretty lovable so the harem around her is believable. and i love a gal with a hobby

I'm in Love with the Villainess

rating: eh

kinda disappointed with this one, i was hoping for some fun gl story, but it could barely watch the first episode and had to force myself to try a few more in hopes it got better (it didnt)

the romance part felt more like harassment in those first episodes, and sure, ive read that it progresses further, but the protagonist didnt really endear herself to me with that

given the comedy tag on mal there were probably some jokes in it, i just couldn't identify many good ones

7th Time Loop: The Villainess Enjoys a Carefree Life Married to Her Worst Enemy!

rating: hell yeah! (still ongoing, episodes watched: 6)

the best one of all shows listed and the only one that's not an isekai

much more grounded, with good worldbuilding and another capable lady as the protagonist, but this one even more so, as well as much more mature

very pretty, even if i find some character designs questionable :v

definitely got me hooked and i will be watching more

[basedkikuenjoyer]

The Jojolands: Weapons-Grade Lovable Dorks

Had to get caught up on Jojo's with a little breaksky from One Piece. I know I've said it a lot but holy crap is this part drawing me in right off the bat solely off of the strength of the characters. Dragona is a total treasure, and it's cool because you don't see Araki doing cute a whole lot but he's doing it very well! We're eleven chapters in and I still want to watch this whole group develop. Jodio's a great contrast and it is refreshing to do more of a sibling Joestar dynamic, Paco's developing into a good heavy, and Usagi? Well, it isn't called Jojo's Mundane Adventure you know? He's a little freak and it's starting to come off as the right kind of scrunkly.

You are starting to see more of a distinct identity form. Steel Ball Run & Jojolion felt like they took a long time to get into that, and a big reason I love Stone Ocean is how fast you get to know exactly who Jolyene is. The siblings are very mission focused and they love their mama the lovely Barbara Ann, who breaks up the tense segment beautifully. All this stuff with the watch and trying to suss out the mysterious lava rock is just plain working for me. And hey! It isn't just Dragona, Jodio really sold me on himself in this stretch:

Is it anything hugely unique for Jojos? Nah, but you are a man of action and there's a lot of charm in how steadfast he is. He's kind of an idiot and I do want to have time to play with the idea he doesn't always know what to make of Dragona, but there's also a certain wisdom and clarity behind his actions. He's feeling more like a looser Giorno and that's a great niche for your lead to hit. The current conflict with this sand stand dude is shaping up into a solid showcase for the main quartet that may be growing into a quintet depending on how the next leg of this fight goes. Speaking of:

I adore the artwork for this dude. How he manifests through these perspective-warping illusions. Type of stuff that reminds you why this author got to be featured in the Louvre. Seriously, this is some of the coolest shit I've ever seen in a battle manga and I kinda hope we do keep this guy around for no other reason than thinking this is a cool stand. I also want Dragona to get the pretty $80k watch because Dragona deserves all the nice things.

So yeah. Not too much to say now, I don't intend to just get every chapter with this because it's Jojo's so why spend months picking apart a fight that can do anything but I'm still very much engrossed in the story unfolding as-is. Hawaii is a great choice of settings and it's fun seeing such a modern group. Kudos to Araki for staying hip enough the teens feel like modern teens.

[hecksupremechips]

To also go off of the point about cop!akihiko being annoying to me I gotta say that Akihiko as a character is very hit or miss with me because of how different adaptations of p3 will subtly alter his character. I felt like in portable with the femc route he comes off best, he’s a bit of a hothead with an obsession with fighting, but he’s overcompensating his strength so he doesn’t feel as weak and helpless as he’s been in many situations. He defines strength in a very literal sense, being physically strong and using that to protect others, but he’s lacking in emotional strength as a result. And in particular in this version I think he’s portrayed as a bit more goofy and sweet in a sense. He cares deeply for you as a friend and leader but he struggles with finding the words to describe how he feels. Hes kinda naive and gullible and has trouble noticing his surroundings. He has no clue what he’s doing but his heart is in the right place. I think he just comes off much more human and he has flaws, many many flaws, and that makes him all the more lovable

But then in other adaptations and spinoffs it’s like. They look at him through some hetero male bullshit filter and seem to view him as a lot more admirable and cool. Like in p3 dancing, theres literally an event where he’s talking with Junpei and Minato and they’re gushing about how perfect Akihiko is and how he doesn’t seem to have ANY flaws at all. And it becomes clear his inability to flirt with women just gets added as a way to make sure you, the Straight Male Player, don’t get insecure being next to such Perfection because at the end of the day, you’re still more charming and sexy than he will ever be because you’re better. It’s a “flaw” that’s only there to shield a sensitive male ego. And then in arena I mean, come on. He’s overly beefy and is a damn cop and travels the world and loves Protein™️ it’s his whole personality and he’s so clearly meant to be seen as hot but like, he’s just some shitty hetero male fantasy. Hes what the writers deem to be a Perfect Man that every guy wishes he could be, but don’t worry he’s still bad with women so you don’t gotta worry about him stealing your property- I mean, girlfriend!

And though I’ve not played reload and don’t really plan to anytime soon, judging from his social episodes they seem to have a similar problem. Akihiko comes off as a lot less approachable, like the year age gap is just too much of a barrier to get to know him properly. And he doesn’t have that dorky sweetness he has in portable, he’s just that perfect hetero male fantasy guy and don’t you fucking worry- he still has his protein powder with him

[crescentblossom66]

Character Analysis: Conductor and DJ Grooves

Before I start this analysis made out of reading too much into dialogue and overall being way too obsessed with chapter two of A Hat in Time, I want to clarify that I like both of the directors. Conductor is my favorite character in the whole game and DJ Grooves is another character that I enjoy (I agree with all of you DJ Grooves fans, that funky penguin isn't getting enough content).

I also want to try to make people think about those two more and make them less one dimensional in their fan works. I understand that it is very easy to see DJ Grooves as just the charming underdog with absolutely no bad bone in his body, and Conductor as nothing more than a deranged lunatic. I hope I can inspire with this and draw some attention to these two lovingly crafted characters.

I'll split this analysis into 4 parts:

First impressions of the directors

Conductor, the deranged psycho...or not?

DJ Grooves, charming or cunning?

Final Thoughts

1. First impressions of the directors

We first meet the two quarreling directors in Chapter two act 1. As soon as we enter the lobby of the huge building that we'll later know as Dead Bird Studio, we bare witness to an argument between the Sci-fi and musical making penguin, DJ Grooves, and Conductor, a strange-looking owl thing that makes Westerns. The first thing every player will notice is that both characters seem to act very differently to the whole argument. While the yellow owl stomps his foot in anger and seems very aggressive, his rival seems to not be too fazed by the whole argument, simply dancing and more or less ignoring the allegations and insults the other throws his way.

In the very first scene we learn that the DJ appears to be rather calm and collected, while his counterpart comes of as rather aggressive and downright vindictive, given that he locks the penguins into their side of the studio.

Those first impressions get strengthened even more if the player talks to the actors of the studio. The Express Owls appear very scared of their boss, the Conductor, informing the player that they're mere passengers on the train that the Western director operates, they also state that he makes unexpected stops and caused them to be late for their work and that they get randomly dragged into filming movies. The Moon Penguins on the other hand seem to idolize their boss, DJ Grooves, they even have a fan club in his honor. Those flipper-snapping birds also seem to be very hostile toward new people seeing the player as a threat for their idol and are rather rude to Hat Kid.

When the player makes their way through the vent to enter the studio itself, the interactions that the DJ has with his penguins are all pretty friendly, he encourages them and is pretty calm when his actors make mistakes during recording, even when the player disrupts the recording by jumping in front of the cameras, the former DJ seems to only act confused and just continues on with his filming.

The Conductor on the other hand yells at his actors nonstop, voicing his frustrations clearly, calling his actors lousy and terrible when they make mistakes. Unlike his rival, the yellow owl doesn't take kindly to his recording being disrupted and he yells and gets even angrier whenever the player decides to jump in front of his cameras.

All of this just reaffirms the impressions we had of the characters so far, and even the finale of the chapter only underlines this, as the penguin asks for our help with desperation, and even hands us a bird passport, while the owl wants to take us to jail for messing with the Annual Bird Movie Awards.

The player will come out of this drawing the conclusion that DJ Grooves is the underdog that needs help in beating his despicable rival, who seems to be a terrible person all around. As it is the nature of us humans, we want to see the lovable underdog win against the overconfident and cruel rival, as it is seen in most media.

The second act of chapter two, “Murder on the Owl Express”, takes us onto the beloved train of the Western director where we are greeted by said director on the small balcony at the back of the caboose. Nothing much will change for our perception of the character here. He seems to not care that he scared the owls and Hat Kid with a fake murder that the player will obviously notice as just a set up. He will once again remind us that he hates his rival's movies before we're given a time piece and go on our merry way back to the spaceship.

“Picture Perfect”, the third act of the chapter, brings us to a big set on the moon where the DJ greets us enthusiastically. He takes on a mentor role for Hat Kid as she tries to build her own fan base as she goes from endorsement to endorsement. We get once again remind that the DJ is the “good guy” of this story as the Moon Penguins around him are happy and upbeat as opposed to the tense Express Owls. This pleasant and colorful act also clashed hard with the more dreary and serious “Murder on the Owl Express” act that we went through earlier.

Things take a more drastic and extreme turn in the last two stages. In “Train Rush” the player will get told that there is a bomb on the train and they'll have to go and defuse it. It shows the lengths and extremes the Western director will go to just to get a few nice shots for his movies. His attitude toward Hat Kid is once again rather harsh and demeaning, as he blatantly states that he doesn't care for her or the owls, only his train seems of any concern to him. When the chapter is completed, he will brush aside the concerns of the young space traveler, telling her that all of this was done in the name of cinematography.

“The big Parade” also takes things to the extreme with electric floors and homing missiles. The DJ seems as pleasant as ever, informing the player that it will be easy and that all they have to do is walk around the place a bit which does little to prepare the player for the rather hazardous minutes ahead of them.

The final Chapter will be determined by whom the player chooses as the winner at the end of the four split chapters. If the player chooses the Conductor, things will remain like they were before, the Conductor will remain condescending toward Hat Kid and will even attempt to murder her, while the DJ will come to her rescue when he's needed the most. If the player chooses Grooves, however, things will take a twist, the DJ will betray the young girl and will fight her instead, and Conductor, very surprisingly, intervenes and saves the poor girl from certain doom.

If taken at first glance, it is pretty straight forward who the bad guy is supposed to be it's obviously the Conductor, right? He's a terrible person that treats everyone around him horribly, while DJ Grooves did absolutely nothing wrong and only tried his best to win all this time.

But is it really, dear reader? Is it really as clear-cut and black and white as that, I'll ask you? Is Conductor really an all around bad guy, as Mustache Girl would say, and is DJ Grooves really the uwu penguin that can't do any wrong like his Moon Penguins seem to view him as? Let's find out together.

2. Conductor, the deranged psycho...or not?

One of the crucial arguments people make when they talk about the narrative of story is that the Conductor is obviously a crazy, derange old man who cares about nothing and nobody aside from his movies and his train. It's easy therefore to shove him into the villain role, like the story portraits him, however, his character is a bit deeper than what people give him credit for.

The easiest way for me to explain this point is debunking or at least theorizing on a couple of questions to which the answers may be not as cut and dry as you may think. Those questions are:

Is the Conductor a cheater? Is he endangering his actors? Does he care about Hat Kid at all?

To answer the questions, we're going to look at it from the very beginning of the chapter again, starting with the first question, is the Conductor a cheater? In act one the Conductor accuses Hat Kid of rigging the awards in the favor of his rival, considering what his rival did as fraud and roping the young girl into helping him as well. He seems to have contempt for her as she disrupts the status quo, and the best course of action is to make sure that the odds are evened out again. Given that the owl is rather direct, straight forward, and quite honest, we can potentially see him as despising cheating. This can be further backed up as In chapter 6 he will mention that the DJ will mock him for cheating if word gets out that he cheated, this could imply that he never cheated before that, and thus the accusation that his rival based a lot of his argument on (Saying that he manipulated everything to make sure that he never wins, cheating, and fraud) could all just be illusions that the penguin made to justify that the yellow owl won every award except for one, and that the Western director never actually cheated and won his awards legitimately.

The second and bigger problem, and what is a lot harder to ignore is the question of whether or not he actually puts his actors into danger? I can already hear you facepalm and go “Duh! Have you actually PLAYED 'Train Rush'! That owl...thing is a psycho!” To which I will say “Method Acting” Regularly a technique used by actors to get into their roles by putting themselves into situations that the characters they're playing is in, in order to give a more convincing and expressive performance. The Conductor purposefully exposes the owls, and Hat Kid to the stressful situations and without telling them that they're recording to get better acting out of them.

This is confirmed when he tells Hat Kid that his script isn't ready in act 2, there he also says that he's not recording. We as the players know this whole scene is a set up, which is of course confirmed by the owl himself at the end of the act.

The owls seem just as clueless about it as the young space traveler, as they show fear and panic. (The only one clued in is the owl that plays dead, but none of the others know that he's pretending) This can of course be slightly debunked depending on the person or group you chose as the culprit. If you pick Hat Kid we don't know if she only picked herself just because, due to the owl simply saying that she put a rubber knife on him, but we were with Hat Kid the whole time...I mean we're controlling her so we would have seen if she had done that to the owl. It makes it probable that she simply lied, Conductor's dramatic retelling of the events also makes that more unbelievable, making it likely that she had no idea that it was a set up and just picked herself on a whim to see what would happen

To summarize, no owls were harmed during “Murder on the Owl Express”

I know you've been waiting, tapping your foot at me impatiently considering that “Train Rush” is the bigger issue. I can already hear you typing. “THE CONDUCTOR LITERALLY TELLS US THAT THERE IS A BOMB!”

Yes, that bomb existed, and yes, I know about that, but the important question is yet again, was anyone harmed? Where those risks calculated? What if I told you...that they were.

The owls do mention that they have more explosives on the train, which is true, but those are all on carts where we don't see any owls being in. The owls are all in areas that are more or less safe and none of them appear to be harmed. Even the band plays as if nothing is wrong, further confirming that they knew that they'd be safe.

As you know, the Conductor is at the front of the train the ENTIRE time we see him after the announcement. (I have no idea how he got to the front all the way from the caboose without us noticing, game logic, I guess) He could have switched that bomb off at any time. We never actually see the bomb blow up even if the time runs out, we simply die as if killed by an enemy, so it neither confirms nor debunks that the bomb blew up. Not even in chapter 6 do we see the bomb ACTUALLY exploding.

So is he endangering his actors? Physically no, mentally and emotionally, yes. His actions here still make it clear that he only see the owls as a means to and end, which is winning the award. The amount of stress and trauma he forces the Express Owls through is just collateral to him.

The last point on this list is does he show care toward Hat Kid aside from the finale?

Too many people say the switch in personality that Conductor shows when he saves Hat Kid from the demented DJ comes out of nowhere, and they do not see the build up that happened across the two chapters that lead up to chapter 6. I understand that wholeheartedly, because that build up is extremely subtle. It is very easy to go through both, chapter 2 and chapter 4, thinking that the yellow bird show no affection toward Hat Kid, especially when you consider that the DJ shows more affection for her in his chapters. The Conductor's shift in demeanor is very easy to miss. In act 1 the owl seems to dislike Hat Kid quite a lot for interfering, but there's two easily overlooked lines that show some growth.

I want you to look at those two pictures, the first is at the end of “Murder on the Owl Express”, while the second is taken at the end of “Train Rush”.

Do you see the slight switch in demeanor? The first one tells us that we should leave, but the line delivery even shows that he doesn't yell this time even if it has an exclamation mark. He speaks a bit more fondly of her in the second picture, saying that Hat Kid deserved the time piece instead of telling us to grab the supposed prop and scram.

I'm also going to briefly mention here that he still helps Hat Kid in chapter 5, and even apologizes for attempting to kill her (He tries at least, he's not very good at it) if he was chosen as the winner for the award. If he's the loser, he will express a bit of empathy for her for what his rival had put her through.

So, is the Conductor the good guy now? No...not by any means. He's still a very aggressive and competitive bird thing that doesn't value his actors too much and prioritizes his movies over everything. Some theories explain his behavior, but this analysis is based on what we actually see in game and theories and conclusions we can potentially draw from those facts. As it stands, he's very much still a bad person, but he has far more nuance when what people give him credit for, if you know where to look. I hope that my small analysis on him here has shown you that there is a potential for him to actually care about Hat Kid, and that the owl is just a tad bit kinder when he lets on.

3. DJ Grooves, charming or cunning?

Another thing that I and a few others hate to see is that people tend to view the charming and stylish former DJ as just the good guy that can't harm a fly, thus they think that Conductor winning, and the subsequent fight in which the DJ rescues us, makes more sense than if he back stabs the young girl he so affectionately calls his diva. Just like with his counterpart, there are a few things I have gripes with, but the ways in which the DJ is more twisted when he lets on are about as subtle as the ways in which the Conductor is kind.

Once again, we can ask a few questions to make it easier to understand where I'm coming from with this, those being: To what extend does DJ Grooves hate his rival? Is the DJ a manipulator?

I once again hear you guys typing a defense for the underrated costar of the second chapter of the game, telling me that the DJ never did anything wrong, that all he wanted to do was make good movies and defeat his angry and hostile rival once again. You may even say that the penguin doesn't really hate his rival all too much, seeing as he tries to stay mostly calm when talking to him...what you don't see is that he has a lot of contempt for the yellow bird, far more than he lets on.

When we first see him interact with his rival, he comes off as calm and collected, appearing to not take the argument too seriously. He takes a jab at the owl's struggles to come up with new ideas which leaves the yellow bird stunned for a moment. The fact that he know that his rival struggles with ideas and the fact he mentions it here is important, keep it in the back of your mind. The penguin seems to know exactly how to get under the other's skin and riles up the Conductor even more while he himself stays calm, he even dances during this whole exchange, showing how little it affects him.

The spite for his rival and his obsession with winning the award is a lot harder to see, and we only get a glimpse of it during act 6 itself if he's the winner were he makes it clear that he despises the owl, slandering his name even without the prove for it, and, if my own theory that I made earlier is true, that accusation has no leg to stand on.

The amount of vitriol in the voice of DJ Grooves (which is amazing by the way, kudos to the voice actor) shows just how frustrated and spiteful he really is, an amount of anger and hatred we've not heard from the penguin in any of his levels yet, is present. There is a few more instances other than this though that show his hatred for his rival and his obsession with winning the award.

These little newspaper clippings can be found in the basement of Dead Bird Studio and are placed on the wall outside of the trophy room. This room is situated right above the DJ's dressing room.

Conductor's is in a completely different area of the basement and not even adjacent to it, kind of making it questionable that the room belongs to Conductor like many people claim. There is a hallway, a room, and another hallway between his side of the studio and Grooves' side.

Also, why would he have a room above his rival's dressing room? But back to the posters. These poster show the Conductor in a bad light, the one on the top left seems to be an article on the Western director's first loss, while the one below that shows that something went wrong in his movies, saying that a “Calculated risk went horribly wrong”. It likely refers to the movie that cost the yellow owl award 42. It also isn't favorable for the yellow owl to be laughing at the misfortune of another bird, as the right clipping shows. All in all, those clips show embarrassing and more humbling moments of the owl, further proving that the room is Grooves', and that he hates his rival enough to remind himself that the strange yellow bird is far from perfect and in fact not untouchable. If that room really is Grooves, it shows an eerie obsession with winning, having over 200 plastic replica of the golden trophy, it shows just how far gone the penguin really is.

But it gets better, yes, dear reader, there's more, and this one can be completely missed if you pick the wrong character in a completely different act...and that act is “Murder on the Owl Express”!

You may be asking yourself “Huh? What does one of Conductor's acts have to do with DJ Grooves?” Well, the penguin mocks his rival not only in front of his whole crew...BUT IN FRONT OF HIS OWN AUDIENCE! I know pics or it didn't happen, so...here you go.

THIS is why I told you to listen when I said that he hated Conductor a lot more than he lets on, it may appear as him being friendly, but look at the context, he's helping his poor, idea-less, incompetent rival create a story line. Is that friendly or detrimental? I'll ask you! Keep this screenshot in mind, it will be relevant again.

Have I convinced you that the penguin, REALLY hates his rival now? That the amount of anger he feels might even justify him snapping if he hadn't already? That he hides insanity and hatred behind his fashionable shades. If not, stay tuned, there's more.

Now, let me shatter your view of the 'uwu, I'm incapable of doing anything wrong' penguin even more. Let's focus on another important factor in this whole story, the main character, Hat Kid. We get roped into helping the DJ after he pleads for Hat Kid's help, telling us that is penguins are terrible actors. No, I'm not saying that he hates the Moon Penguins, given that the story book “Groovy Underdog” exists. It makes it clear that he's frustrated with their acting, but still tries hard to make it work even with them being bad at their jobs.

What I have an issue with is that he manipulates Hat Kid into helping him, which is the very thing that prompts Conductor to accuse her of fraud. DJ Grooves simply spotted an opportunity to beat his rival and win the award, the goal was not to help Hat Kid become famous, he simply more or less cheated by dragging an outsider into their quarrel.

The second instance that shows that the DJ is amazing at manipulating those around him is in the first act we see him again, act 3 “Picture Perfect”. He demonstrates an uncanny ability to wrap the viewers at home around his flipper. Everyone on the moon seems to know him as he himself says that everyone knows his name, and it is backed up by the amount of followers Hat Kid gains after every endorsement.

The best example of this is when Hat Kid takes a page out of Conductor's colorful dictionary and uses the word “Peck” ,a swear word in the bird world. Here the DJ shows that he knows his audience rather well, explaining that swearing on TV would get him into trouble, he knows that his image could take a blow if Hat Kid says the wrong thing. He quickly sweeps the occurrence under the rug and tells the space traveler to scram.

The entirety of act 3 shows perfectly how amazing the DJ is at manipulating people to his advantage, even Hat Kid doesn't catch on to what he's actually doing. He's using Hat Kid's cute, childlike charm and likability to his advantage, this is backed up in act 1 where he refers to Hat Kid as an innocent soul with a heart of gold before dismissing her right BEFORE he gets the idea to use her for his own gain.

He continues to manipulate the public and even the player's impression of him by presenting himself as a charming mentor character to Hat Kid, and an overall likable funky fellow. It's all a facade, a charade put on by him to hide his desperation for the victory, show the player, Hat Kid and the public what they want, a charming director who can't do anything wrong at all.

The cracks show in “The Big Parade”, act 5 of the chapter. He explains to us and to Hat Kid, that the parade will be easy, that all she has to do was jump and run around the rooftops...with not a single line does he mention the dangers we're actually facing. Electric floors, homing missiles and carnage, all presented as a happy-go-lucky movie with nice effects and pleasant music.

The audience of the movie doesn't see the danger, the difficulty and the hazardous chaos that Hat Kid navigates through. They only see the pretty colors, the nice effects and the cheery music so out of place in this nightmare. The DJ either doesn't know that Hat Kid is in danger, which is unlikely, or he doesn't care. In “Train Rush” The Conductor blatantly tells us that there's a bomb and that were in danger of the whole train blowing up, here, the disco-loving director shows that he cares as little for Hat Kid's safety as the Conductor does, he just doesn't blatantly tell us.

To summarize, the DJ feigns to care for Hat Kid and only sees her as a means to an end, just like his, apparently seen as more evil, counterpart. Speaking of his counterpart, I told you to keep that screenshot in mind where Grooves “helps” the Conductor with his movie.

I mentioned that he ruins the reputation of his rival, but he also BOOSTS HIS! He even makes clear who is speaking! In the line before the screenshot I took, he announces to everyone in the room and the audience that will watch this movie that HE is here to help his poor rival. It not ONLY mocks the Conductor for his lack of ideas, but it might boost his own movies as he's seen as a generous and helpful guy by the audience of Conductor's movies.

Once again I'll ask, just how innocent is that penguin really? Can you STILL claim that his shift in demeanor is out of character, when everything he does can point to him being just as deranged as his rival if not more so. I think that I have at least given you some food for thought...Maybe you will look at this flashy disco penguin in a different way the next time you play his levels...and you'll see the cold and calculated show he puts on for the viewers.

4. Final Thoughts

I hope that I managed to convey that both the Conductor and DJ Grooves are far more nuanced and interesting when we give them credit for, that chapter 2 can be far more interesting and less black and white when what people say. I personally love both characters a lot. Don't go chasing me with pitchforks for ruining the character for you, it's okay if you want to see DJ Grooves as nice and a cinnamon roll, and Conductor as a cold-hearted bastard. Everything is up to interpretation which varies from person to person. All I tried to accomplish was give food for thought and maybe explain a little why DJ Grooves as the winner makes more sense when people realize.

I'm always up for discussing chapter 2, as it's my favorite. Thank you for reading and have a nice day or night! You're awesome!

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@majormeilani Here it is, you wanted me to tag you for this. I hope you liked it. Chapter 2 ftw!