#Because he looks so human and the description was about a creature

[ayanominitrash]

INTRIGUE (True Form Sukuna x Reader)

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Humans.

Though weak creatures, they cause chaos wherever and whatever era. It only seems like the only consistent thing in this world. They crawl like the desperate pathetic ants they are, forever struggling to survive day by day. The other idiot ants feel superior to the others, taking advantage of their power that they’d go so far as to take the food that others worked hard to haul onto the hill only for them to have it for themself.  Corruption. No matter the age, Ryomen Sukuna - King of Curses- has witnessed the same thing over and over again. It’s getting a little tiring to look at. 

This is the exact description that anyone in the village would put in the Kamo clan - the corrupt and tyrant rulers. They are wealthy and at the top of the power hierarchy, the very source of corruption, of abuse. The men in the family would beat, abuse, and take advantage of their blood relatives. Some are sold, adding more riches to their unnoble stockpile of treasure. To any lowlife they come across and feel like harassing, they would do so through pain and torture or even just public humiliation just for fun. There wasn’t any person that was brave enough to stand up against them. They were the only ones who were capable of protecting them from curses that would invade them from time to time. The people in that village are under their mercy. Where else can they go when there are curses out there beyond, not knowing how many are out threading freely?

Sukuna sighs in exasperation as he remains squatting on a tree branch, overlooking the nearby village under the bright sun. Sukuna hides in the forest, far away enough that humans wouldn’t loiter around much but close enough that he can watch what goes on in that small puny community. If he does encounter a human, his terrifying four-armed figure will be the last thing that they’d see before their demise. However, in recent days, there haven’t been a lot of humans threading deep into the forest because of the rumors that people who go there never return. Because of this, he hasn’t eaten for weeks and is currently starving for meat. Sukuna debates if it is time to raid the village to satiate his hunger and quench his thirst for blood. 

As if on queue, there was a rustle from the bushes nearby and a familiar scent carried in the wind to which Sukuna wasted no time but to take it all in with one big whiff. It’s the scent that he’s been longing for so long.

Food.

He makes his move, swinging his four arms from one branch to another as quietly as possible, making his way toward the delicious smell. He won’t be bothered to check if this one’s good meat, the only thing he cares about is to quiet down the rumbling of his stomach. When he reaches a safe enough distance, he crouches down his big frame behind one of the bushes near the small river stream. Sukuna’s red eyes shine against the sun as soon as it lands on his meal, licking his lips. 

It was a small girl with short hair, the bottom of her purple kimono neatly folded as she was squatting down at the side of the stream, running a hand in the water while staring in silence. She has her back turned to him as she hums a tune to herself. This was a very easy and effortless catch for Sukuna, a little girl with her guard down. He doubted that he would feel full after ingesting her whole being but it was better than nothing.  The King crouched down and waited, getting ready to pounce until he finally did with a deafening roar. 

Sukuna lands where she is, thinking he has crushed her. He was ready to dig his fingers into her body when he realized that he didn’t hear any screaming and that there was no one underneath him. Confused, he looks around only to see the girl had dogged him and is now holding her hands up.  This completely baffled Sukuna as he stared at the girl’s shocked but not scared face.

“E-easy there, I don’t intend to harm you. I’m sorry if I wandered too far into your territory.” She says in a high-pitched shaky voice. “I-I know you must be h-hungry. I’m actually carrying hens in the b-basket I’m carrying, if that would suffice”

Watching the girl talk made his blood boil. How dare she outwit him by dodging his attack? He would’ve consumed her by now if it weren’t for her eagerness to live. The foolish human thinks she can talk her way out of getting eaten by the King of Curses. He runs towards her, claws extended in front of him when she jumps out of the way again but this time, he can grab her by the foot. She yelps in pain at what he thought because of his grip but he looks down and sees a massive bruise on her ankle. It looked like it had been there for a few days so it couldn’t be because of him. She screams and lands on the shallow side of the water, wetting her hair, face, and upper body. He drags her leg towards him, laughing at the way she digs her fingers into the soil trying to stop herself from getting dragged. With ease, he lifts her upside down with one hand, satisfied with the way her Kimono drops down exposing her slender legs and undergarments.

“Oi, oi, oi! That’s no way to treat a lady, Mister!” She makes an effort to shake her fist at him despite being upside down. “P-please, maybe you should try the hen first?!”

The gull of this human to keep talking as if her life was not about to end made him stop in his movements to look down on her. Her face is panicked but not scared. This takes the fun out of killing her but he’s really after the food instead of the thrill. Still, Sukuna has never encountered a girl who acted this way. It was always screaming, crying, and flailing their hands which made it all the more delicious when he finally sank his sharp teeth into their flesh, silencing the pathetic pleas. Still holding her upside down, his eyes curiously do a double take on this peculiar filth he managed to catch. The little girl, no, this young woman had bruises, burns, and cuts all over her limbs. Some wounds have already been scars but others are still healing. The curse thought this person was a little girl but no doubt she was a woman with her mature figure and breasts. It was just that she was incredibly thin as if the concept of food was never introduced to her. Sukuna knows that he told himself before he attacked that he wasn’t gonna bother with the quality of this meat, but this made him lose his appetite. But mostly, he was curious about what this filth went through, and why doesn’t she act as if life was taken from her, like an empty shell. Instead, she has a wild and bright spirit in her that burns his eyes. It was. . . interesting.

He drops her to the ground.

“See, see! Hens do sound good if you just give it a chance. Come, come!” The woman scrambles to her feet to reach for the basket near the stream. She whips it around and offers it to him, with a hopeful smile on her face or a grateful one for having shown mercy. “They’re fresh from my uncle’s farm!” 

He stares at this ridiculous scene in front of him for a moment before crossing both pairs of his arms. “Get that fucking thing out of my face, you filthy being. What do you take me for?” 

The curse’s deep menacing voice was frightening enough that the young woman recoiled, pulling the hen back to her chest.  She was too stunned to say anything. 

“Well then, why didn’t you eat me if you didn’t want the hen?” 

This made Sukuna pull a dumbfounded face for her to talk to him so bluntly. He curls his lips in amusement, “You’re as filthy as they come, human. You’ve ruined my appetite with your disgusting state.”

“Hm?! Do you mean my injuries? I didn’t know curses were so picky.” She puts her hand on her chin as if in deep thought. 

“So you know what a curse is then, filth. Are you not afraid?”

“Should I be?” For the first time, there was a small smile on her lips as she stared up into the king’s eyes. “I’m well aware that people who enter the forest never come back and I know for sure that they’re eaten by curses. I didn’t think I’d encounter one so soon though, and it is the King himself, no less.”

It’s as if everything that comes out of this filth’s mouth was made to surprise Sukuna every time it opens. He still hadn’t come to terms with that this was all happening, so he couldn’t stop himself from laughing maniacally out loud out of the ridiculousness of it all, of his sharp teeth bearing in front of her. She flinches a little at the sight of him.

“You amuse me!” He finally says as soon as he stops laughing. “Bear to me your name, filth.”

She says her name in a small voice. 

“Never heard of you! Nonetheless, I shall not forget you, filth. I’m  still hungry and I’m still going to eat you despite how you are.” 

He laughs a little when he sees her shoulders drop and deflate at the realization that her life was not spared, the hen finally flies out of her grasp. 

“Uh- I know I came here knowing my fate but it seems that I'm afraid to die after all. I know you’re hungry. Are you alright with at least an arm? Or a leg? I can give you that much.” 

Again, he was taken aback by the words that left her lips once more. Before he can even say anything, she throws her left arm in his direction. “How about this arm?! There aren't many cuts here?” 

For the first time, Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, was at a loss for words. He glares down at the odd creature in front of him, wondering what’s wrong with her. He takes a few steps back, widening the distance between them. After a few steps, he plops himself cross-legged on the ground. They carefully watch each other in silence, wary of each movement one of them makes. In the background, the hen she was once holding was leisurely bathing itself in the shallow end of the water. 

“Human,” Sukuna finally speaks to her, who flinches again. “Tell me, why are you decorated like a warrior and sickly thin like that of a twig?” 

The girl deflates in her seat again in the grass. She looked down at the stream and opted to go back to her position before Sukuna attacked her, one hand dipping in the water. Silence blankets them once more as she gathers her thoughts. 

“Hmmm. . .if you’re not going to eat me, then what are you planning to eat? Do you eat pigs?”

“I asked you a question, filth. I have yet to hear your answer.”

“- Because if you eat pigs, I could go ahead and grab one from the village and offer it to you. I don’t think I just leave knowing that you’re hungry if you’re kind enough not to kill me.”

“Are you not going to answer me?”

“Can I at least offer you something to eat first before I do?”  She gives a sheepish smile. “I know what it’s like not having anything to eat, as you can tell. My arm is still on the offer if that will help you.” 

“Bring me another human, then.” 

She was quiet for a bit, removing her hand from the water and then bringing it up to her chin in thought, not minding the water droplets dripping on her kimono since it was already messy from the earlier event. “Do you think an older lady will be okay? She’s on the brink of her death. She’s got a plump frame.”

Sukuna laughs again in amusement. “Do you have no regard for your kind? Oh, Humans!”

She shrugs, then grins, “I heard you like cooked humans. I can cook her for you if you’d like.”

His ears perk at this. It has been a while since he tasted cooked human meat. His previous servant was the only one who could cook for him and they have long since parted nearly a decade ago. His stomach growls at the mere suggestion of grilled meat. 

She lightly laughs, her eyes softening. “I take that as a yes. I can do that much for you for your kindness. You may find it odd for me to kill my kind, but honestly, I think it’s better to put her out of her misery. She was a great woman.” 

“How do I know you’ll come back, filth? I know, if you do not come back when the full moon rises, I will burn down your village.” 

Sukuna had a small inkling that she wouldn’t mind her village burning down, seeing how she is all covered in different types of injuries just from living there, but the mere mention of her village made the color drain from her face.

“Understood, then.” As the girl stands up with the basket full of hens, she makes an effort to dust off her kimono but it doesn't do anything. “Full moon it is!”

“Hurry up, fifth. I do not like waiting.” Sukuna says before standing up and walking back into the forest where he came from. 

⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere // this is one of my first Sukuna fics and I wrote this way back on March this year damn //not re-proofread so sorry if some parts dont make sense or some typa cringe lol

[ateezscupid]

im begging for more sub!mingi 🙏🙏🙏

𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬. ♡

warnings ─ medieval au, vamp!mingi, human/princess!fem reader, descriptions of drinking/eating blood, forbidden love, mingi is super tall (like 7'0 at best because why not? sorry for my super short readers LOL) and reader is shorter than him, SIZE DIFFERENCE, mingi immediately falls in love with reader

tags ─ @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @jeonride @byuntrash101

m.list ┃ nsfw warnings under the cut.

warnings ─ switch (dom leaning) fem!reader, switch (sub leaning)!mingi, unprotected sex (don't do this, especially with some random vampire), handjob, praise kink (m & f), creampie, miss kink, hickeys

Desperate for blood in his system, Mingi set out to the forest in search of his meal. It was a night like any other, as the moon cast an ethereal glow upon the dark ancient forest. Being alone for many centuries will do something to a vampire, and for Mingi, it made him extremely hungry. His hunger for blood and human touch consumed him. His tan, starving body ached with each step he took, ached with the desire to feel the warmth of a living being against his cold, immortal skin.

And then, he heard it; the sound of frantic footsteps approaching, growing louder with each passing moment. Mingi hid behind a tree thinking it was another vampire or some animal, but it turned out to be you. A lost princess running through the woods trying to find safety.

You fled from your palace after having heard rumors of an impending arranged marriage. You didn't want to marry a man you didn't know anything about. You weren't even attracted to him. Tears streaked down your delicate cheeks as you stumbled through the woods, desperate to find some sort of freedom and escape the fate that awaited you. As you emerged from behind a large oak tree, you went behind another tree, finding yourself face-to-face with Mingi, his piercing red eyes fixed upon you.

Despite your initial fear, there was something about Mingi that interested you. He was unlike any man you had ever met, his otherwordly beauty captivating you. Also, he was super fucking tall. You liked how strong he looked.

"Who are you?" you whisper, your voice shaking with a mixture of awe and fear.

Mingi steps forward with graceful movements despite his almost emaciated frame. "I'm Mingi," he said, voice smooth as silk. It was like dark chocolate and honey mixed together. "I could smell you from the moment you entered the forest. Dear princess, I sense you need...companionship?" He closed the distance between you two, the air between you crackling with an unspoken desire.

He spoke so elegantly. Better than any man you've ever met. You hesitated, your heart racing. You've heard so many stories of vampires, creatures who drank the blood of the living and preyed upon the weak and innocent. As intimidating as Mingi looked, you weren't scared. He made you feel safe, despite the danger you knew you were in. You take a shaky breath and nod.

"May I know your name?" he asks, hand ever so gently grazing your cheek. You tense up and nod.

"Y/N,"

"Such a pretty name, miss." His hands move down to your neck, feeling your soft skin. As he moved closer, his fangs elongated, his breath warm against your neck. He hesitates for a moment before leaning down and gently biting down on your neck, drawing your blood into his mouth. You didn't move. You grabbed onto his forearm and dug your nails into his skin, whimpering but ultimately liking it.

You gasp, overwhelmed by the rush of pleasure and pain coursing through your veins. The sensations are unlike anything you've ever experienced, and despite your fear, you find yourself unable to resist the primal urge to feel more of it.

Your blood flowed freely into Mingi's mouth, and he drank deeply, his fangs tearing through your delicate skin. The fear of turning and becoming a vampire was long gone. You moaned softly, arching your back as the sensation became almost too much. You thought being bitten by a vampire would hurt, but this didn't hurt at all. If anything it felt good. Mingi pulled back slightly, eyes wide with surprise and pleasure. He didn't expect you to respond in such a way.

You reach up, running your fingers through his long, platinum-blonde hair. "You're not like the vampires they speak of," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"You're different." you smile. Mingi chuckles darkly, his fangs still embedded in your neck. He pulls back slightly, mumbling against her neck.

"Perhaps," he voice, voice low and seductive. "I am." And with that, he sunk his fangs back into your neck, pulling you closer while doing so, your bodies pressing tightly together.

As he feasts on your blood, his strength begins to return, his body literally growing in front of your very eyes. He felt a newfound vigor coursing through his veins. He retracts his fangs and pulls away from your neck, licking the blood from his lips.

Sex. That's, quite literally, the only thing on your mind at the moment. Your eyes were glazed over with desire, and you reached out to place your hand on his collarbone, running your fingers down his chest. Mingi gasps at the contact, tan cheeks flushed pink. He had not expected this from you. You were a damn princess. It was incredibly inappropriate what you were doing, yet you didn't seem to care. Your royal status didn't mean anything to you now.

As you continue to explore his body, he whines softly, the sensation overwhelming his senses. He moans softly, the sound echoing through the trees. He was so desperate for her touch now. He needed it. He'd do anything for you to please him.

Your fingers dance across his chest, teasing the skin underneath his top before dipping lower, tracing the muscles of his abdomen through the thin fabric of his shirt. He shudders with pleasure, his eyes closed tightly as he focusses on the feeling of your touch. It's been so long he's experienced remotely close to this. It can't end. Not now.

As you continued your teasing, you reached even lower, fingertips brushing against the cloth that covered his hips. You look up, asking for permission without actually saying anything and he nods. He groans, his body tense with anticipation. He knows what you're about to do, he feels more alive than he has in centuries.

For a moment you hesitate. Do you really want to do this to a man you just met? This wouldn't be your first time, but it would be your first with a vampire. What would everyone think of you when they realize you hooked up with a random, hungry vampire? Well, they wouldn't just randomly find out, and you were sure he wouldn't tell anybody. You slowly pull his pants down, now palming his erection through his underwear.

His breath catches in his throat as you pull his throbbing cock out of his underwear. Hard and aching in your hand. Your eyes widen in surprise at how big he is, but you don't pull away, keeping delicate fingers wrapped around him and beginning to stroke. The sensation is almost too much to bear; he's never felt anything so good, so right. Having a human touch him in places like this drove him crazy.

Right now, you were back against the tree with him leaning over you, droopy eyes examining your facial features while trying to control his own expressions. With every stroke of your hand, every caress of your fingers, he feels more and more alive. Your touch is like magic to him, as if you have the power to bring him back to life.

"You're so beautiful," you whisper, fingers never slowing as they stroke him. He reaches down and cups your face in his hands, kissing you passionately. To him, your lips tasted like candy. He felt the softness of your breasts pressing against him. He groaned into the kiss, his hips bucking slightly as you continued to stroke him. He wants more of you. All of you.

"Come here," Slowly, he pulls away from the kiss with heavy breathing. Switching positions so his back was against the tree. He slides down the tree, now sitting down. You get on the ground with him and he pulls you into his lap. You straddle him, legs wrapping around his waist, and lean forward, your breasts brushing against his chest.

You bunch up your dress, Mingi assisting you by grabbing the bottom part of your dress and simply ripping it in half, also ripping your undergarments and pushing your panties to the side. For a split second you were mad at Mingi for destroying your dress which was priceless, but the thought dissolved in your mind when his cock entered your tight heat.

“Holy fuck.” you whine as your fingers crawled their way into Mingi’s hair, gripping it tightly as you adjusted to his size. He filled you perfectly, every crevice now covered by his length. He could feel your innocence seeping out of you, your scent racking his brain. It’s so much more, so much better than be expected, and it was literally the most incredible sensation he’s ever felt.

He began to thrust, looking up at you with hearts in his eyes. Your eyes were shut tightly, focused on the feeling while trying to move your hips in rhythm with his. Your connection grew stronger with every movement.

“Miss,” Mingi gasps, pushing his face into your neck and furrowing his eyebrows, layering your neck with kisses. The sound of your passion echoed throughout the forest, mingling with the noises of other animals and the rustling of leaves. It was like the world revolves around you two for just this moment.

“I’m close,” his muffled words rang in your ear, causing you to grip at his hair tightly. “I—I cant hold back for long,”

“Don’t.” you pant, feeling your orgasm build up little by little, closer and closer to the edge it felt like. Mingi also felt the same, knowing that when he gets there, it’ll be glorious. Like nothing he’s ever felt before.

Your nails move from his hand and to his shoulders, moving underneath his top and scraping lightly against his shoulders, leaning forward and slamming your hips against his own. He barely felt present in the moment anymore, mind blank and his body overwhelmed with pleasure, but in the very best way possible. Your breath is hot against his neck, and your whispers barely even register to him. Mingi whispered in a language you didn’t understand, hands clawing at your hips.

You moved faster, lost in the physical connection, eyes fluttering closed. Mingi whimpered your name, thighs shaking the faster you moved. It became too much. He could barely take you bouncing up and down on him.

Time seemed as if it was slowing down, Mingi holding your hips down and emptying his load inside of you. He threw his head back, gasping for air and moaning your name repeatedly. It felt like he was being milked. At the same time, you came, squeezing around his length and making him whine from the overstimulation.

For a moment you two sat, ignoring the copious amounts of sweat on your bodies, leaning into him and hugging his body. Mingi at first was confused. Why were you hugging him? He didn’t think you developed feelings for him like he had for you.

“M-Miss, are you oka-”

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your hearts racing. "For this. All of this.”

“…You’re more than welcome, princess.” he met your gaze,. “Are you going to return to your kingdom now? I assume it’s, well, punishable to sleep with a vampire. I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your family and people.”

“Are you kidding? I’m staying here with you. They want me to marry a man I don’t even know.” you sigh.

“Well, you don’t know me? Yet you let me come inside of you.” Mingi chuckles, his words making you blush. You shake your head in disagreement.

“But I feel like there’s something between us. It’s not the same with the other man.” you smile. “I want to stay here. With you. For as long as I can. Maybe until they find me, but Is rather stay here with you then return to my kingdom.”

Mingi kisses your cheek. “Well, so be it.”

You two sit together in silence, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. More so a peaceful one, a shared moment of connection. As the sun began to set, you didn’t move, enjoying the feeling of Mingi’s arms wrapped around your waist.

You were better off here.

[ellalalala]

A semi-long rant about Dottore's implied self-hatred, loneliness and inner struggles

I am, like many others, endlessly fascinated by Dottore, which means that I've been sucking the game dry for any Dottore content I can find; I've watched the dialogue between him and Nahida numerous times, read the "Zandik's Legacy" notes over and over and even the description of the "Wise Doctor's Pinion" from the Pale Flame artifact set. So much has already been said about him, but I'd like to offer my own two cents about an aspect of his character that is often ignored in favor of his villainy: Dottore's inner struggles.

I'll recount everything that I've gathered and tell you of my interpretation of Dottore's character.

To start, one thing that I never see people mention is a line from Nahida's retelling of the Tatarasuna incident. In the very beginning of the cutscene, we see a monster covered in light blue fur (obviously Dottore) who Nahida describes in a very interesting way. She says:

"Once in a while, the monster would take off its fox fur at night, and lament to itself as it gazed at its reflection in the water: "I am a monstrosity, yet they are too foolish to see it. I pity them."

Of course, it's easy to say that this is just a fairy tale Nahida created to preserve Scaramouche's memories and that this could've been made up - which is only half true! We must remember that Nahida has seen Dottore's consciousness. She already knew of the arguments between his Segments when Dottore confronted her to take the Electro and Dendro gnoses. Why do I bring this specific line up, though?

Because this line outright tells us that: 1) Dottore spent sleepless nights in Tatarasuna reflecting on himself; 2) That he, perhaps sincerely, pitied the people of Tatarasuna for not seeing past his facade.

I also think that the use of the word 'lament' is very interesting. To lament means to express sorrow and regret for something. I would think that this implies Dottore feeling remorseful for not just who he was, but what he would do to Tatarasuna. To provide further proof, I think it is important to look at the expression on the furry monster's face (as Nahida portrays it) when it laments to itself:

(What a cute little thing.)

It looks a bit... upset, doesn't it? Like it is mad at itself as it gazes into the water. This expression, combined with his thoughts and the use of the word 'lament' gives us a clear sign that many ignored: Dottore isn't as shallow of a villain as we thought.

Later in the cutscene, Nahida says:

"But the monster soon found solace when another came to live among the foxes who was not their kin: a kitten, carved from the wood of a white tree, who had been abandoned by the humans."

And in that moment, we see a wide-eyed little monster gazing at the kitten:

(Feels really silly to use this as an example but you've gotta trust the process)

Here, Dottore found someone like himself. An outcast, a creature that did not quite fit in with the ordinary humans - someone who could understand Dottore's loneliness and ostracization. After getting chased out of his hometown for his blasphemous ideas, after getting expelled from the Akademiya and possibly exiled to Aaru Village for his heretical views - Dottore had finally found someone to whom he could say: "See? They will never accept us. It is you and I against them, for they will never understand us."

What person wouldn't seek companionship, after all?

But things didn't turn out the way Dottore expected them to. Unlike Dottore, Scaramouche didn't need to hide his true identity in order to be accepted by the people of Tatarasuna. Thus, the following happened:

"Furious at this happy resolution, the monster lit a fire on the mountain. The terrified animals panicked as the fire spread..."

... and we know the rest. What matters is this: Dottore was angry and jealous of Scaramouche. Exiled from his hometown, rejected by his peers, insulted and looked down upon just for wanting to destroy the imbalance between Man and God - and along comes a puppet, a creation of the Raiden Shogun, who receives acceptance and guidance from the people of Tatarasuna. Not just that, but the only creature who could share Dottore's loneliness is whisked away from him, proving once again that Dottore will never know what it means to have a true companion.

Thus he tricked Scaramouche into believing that Niwa had betrayed them, had him join the Fatui and later used him as the blueprint for the creation of his Segments. Dottore basically ruined Scaramouche's life out of bitter jealousy.

That should be it about Tatarasuna for now. What I'd like to focus on next is the conversation between Dottore and Nahida in the 3.2 Archon Quest.

There are a few lines that interest me, so I'll go over them one by one.

Dottore uses a lot of big words to sound like he's saying something profound when in reality he's saying nothing at all (a nice callback to his Commedia Dell'arte counterpart), but there is one thing that both he and Nahida place great emphasis on: the fact that Dottore, smart as he is, cannot make peace with himself.

First to say it is Dottore. After asking Nahida for her opinion on his Segments, he says:

"Indeed. It's difficult for humans... to make peace with themselves, not to mention oneself from a different period."

The line still feels out of place. It sounds as if he is musing to himself.

Again, we get a line about his Segments, after Nahida asked him to erase them:

"You were observing me, and that's how you know I've long grown tired of their doubts and endless arguments."

I think it's safe to assume that the arguing is a metaphor for his struggle of self-acceptance. It seems every Segment has something to say to the others, but more on that later.

Nahida uses Dottore's own words against him:

"Like you said, it's difficult to make peace with yourself. Being as smart as you are, have you managed to do that?"

It's important to note that Dottore doesn't answer that question, but even without that, it's obvious to us, the players - of course Dottore hasn't managed to do that.

Whenever Nahida questions the relationship between his Segments, Dottore easily changes the subject. For example:

"Is the relationship between all the versions of you really that bad?"

"I don't think there's any need to dwell on that. The surplus versions of me can be exchanged for a Gnosis. Do you think anyone can offer themselves at a higher price?"

His Segments all argue constantly. When considered that they are replicas of Dottore at different stages of his life, this takes on an entirely new meaning - beyond his facade, Dottore is a man who can barely make out who he is.

Consider this also: in "A Winter Night's Lazzo", Columbina tells him, "You're looking very young today, Doctor."

To which Dottore replies, "You know very well that I do not take that as a compliment."

A piece of dialogue that had been brushed off by many, myself included - until I realized what this might imply. Dottore finds Columbina's comment insulting because he hates who he is. He hates the younger versions of himself because they represent a Dottore who didn't have the knowledge he has at this current stage of his life. They weren't as smart, as knowledgeable. But that's not really the full extent of it, of course.

Dottore was never fully accepted by anyone, this we have established. In the Akademiya, the students called him a 'madman', a 'monster' (as said in the Wise Doctor's Pinion). When we meet him in the 3.1 Archon Quest, he is referred to as 'The Outcast'. He is always being alienated, but could we assume that he just accepted this rejection and decided to embrace the titles people had thrown at him? This is just... very bold speculation, of course. It is impossible to deny that Dottore didn't always naturally stand out due to his heretical views, but I think it's worth considering that he could have just chosen to be the monster people thought of him as. After all, in the confrontation between him and Niwa, Dottore tells Niwa to think of him as a monster and a demon (for a reason that was... meant to be comforting? Not very important right now).

Consider also how different all the Segments sounded when they found out that they were being erased. All of the voices, along with their manner of speech, varied greatly; I interpreted this as proof of the many masks Dottore has worn over the course of his life. Dottore abandoned whatever humanity he had and decided to embrace the mask of a monster, constantly reinventing himself because he isn't secure in his identity - perhaps he doesn't have one at all. He is a scholar, a Harbinger, a researcher - but without those titles, what is left? What is he left with when he sheds those facades? The constant dodging of Nahida's questions about his Segments, the arguments and the worries of said Segments, the introspection in the cutscene about the Tatarasuna incident - indeed, Dottore is a man filled with self-hatred. A lonely outcast who has never known the comfort of kinship. A monster who swallowed his loneliness and dedicated his life to research.

That should be it, I suppose. My brain is fried and if I remember anything that I might have missed, I'll add that info later.

I want to mention one thing: this doesn't mean Dottore is a misunderstood good guy - doesn't take a genius to know that that is not true. Dottore has no regard for human life (which is ironic, considering how he believes humans have great potential and he wants them to be equal with the Gods). He has hurt so many and I'm sure he will continue to do so. He is evil, but it should be noted that he was once just an ordinary human, too. There must be an explanation for why he is the way he is. It's easy to paint him as just a monster because damn he's good at what he does; but I like to think that there is a layer to him that we just haven't fully seen yet. I'm excited to find out more about him when Snezhnaya gets released in like 2 years... ha. If you've read this far, thank you a lot! Curious to know what you guys think. I love Dottore

[asimpwithfreetime]

What type of yanderes the Sullys are?

Inspired by: @elxrastra I hope you like it <3

Characters: Jake Sully, Neytiri, aged up! Neteyam, aged up! Lo’ak and aged up! Kiri

Bonus character: Tsu’tey

Reader: genderless (not mentioned), can be human or any Na’vi race (then again, not mentioned)

General tags/warnings: yandere behavior, descriptions of violence, maybe ooc, manipulating, murder

Content warnings: English is not my first language, gifs from Pinterest, these are all headcanons and you may not agree with my opinion

Jake Sully

He would be the type of yandere to manipulate you without you noticing.

He would not be jealous or act out near you but he has death glares to anyone that gets close to you.

He definitely would be really loving and never force you into anything, you always give in willingly don’t you?

He will say things that will make you change your mind and think the idea is yours.

If in ANY SITUATION some of your friends or your relatives say that he is toxic, manipulating you or anything like that, believe that this person is not going to live much longer. You won’t remember them though, he will make you forget about them.

If you want to leave him because you discover how he really is, he will manipulate you by crying and begging, I don’t think he would be violent towards his darling. Smashing vases and punching walls? Probably. Doing something to his darling? I don’t think so.

Even as a yandere, I think he will try to look like the good guy or the hero in your eyes.

Overall, he is 6/10 violent yandere (not enough to scare you off, because he tries to never show it around you) 10/10 manipulative yandere.

Neytiri

Okay, hear me out, she is a pretty violent yandere. She could smash someone’s face against a tree right in front of you.

She knows you are too scared to run away, also in Pandora, where are you going to run away to? The sky people that are destroying it and will probably try to keep you to themselves? The huge forest inhabited by creatures that could kill you? She knows you don’t have other place to be.

She is also really strong so everyone knows not to mess with her or her darling. If someone tries to pry you off her, she will kill them. She is still pretty devoted to Eywa so I believe she may ask Eywa for forgiveness or cry while doing it.

She will treat you nicely tho. She will give you cuddles and love and will comfort you when you are scared. All your necessities will be taken care of. She might be a violent yandere but she cares for you deeply. She knows that treating you nicely is the best option.

She will cut off all you connections with friends and relatives, you can only have eyes for her. If anyone ever tried to tell you that you should run away, she will go after them, with all her forces.

In a scale, she is 12/10 violent yandere and a 3/10 manipulative yandere.

Neteyam

He must be the best type of yandere to ever exists. He never will let it show with you and won’t even obviously manipulate you. He will be really sly and cautious with his actions.

He knows how you think or act. And he knows you care for him deeply. He will come home covered in cuts and bruises if he thinks you are going to leave him. After a night of no sleeping tanking care of him you can’t even think about that.

He is really sweet with you and will never act out in your presence. If he need a to send someone a message he will do it behind your back. Hugging you from behind and sending a death glare that could send the other person into the sixth ring of hell is his favorite method.

If he is going to kill somebody, he has it planned months before. And you will never know.

If he finds out that someone is trying to convince you to leave him because they know the truth about him he will act hurt, and he will show you he is nothing like that.

That person will be gone soon. How dare they tell you something like that? Didn’t they see how much Neteyam loves you? He will do anything to be with you.

He can go great lengths to be with you. If you ever leave he will follow you everywhere. He can’t physically live far from you.

If Jake ever says something about you, he will defend you but will never stand against his parents desires. He is really sweet but will hide you from them if they try to get in between his darling and him.

In the manipulative scale he is a 5/10 not so much but enough to change your mi d if he needs it and a 3/10 of violent around you, but without you he is 13/10 just overly planned so nobody can catch him.

Lo’ak

I think he is like his mother, not so violent. He has the manipulation like his dad and the violence of his mom. Pretty dangerous combination.

Lo’ak will be pretty protective of his darling and will never get violent near you unless he needs to. Is Ao’nung gets too close or any other Na’vi look at you, he is not scared to fight for you. Killing, on the other hand, he can’t do it in front of you.

Manipulating on the other hand is a piece of cake for him. He knows that you care about him and his situation with his father. Whenever he knows you have seen him acting up or being weird he’ll come to you with a problem with his dad. Your suspicions long gone when you are caring about him.

He will not hesitate in punching someone if they dare to say something about about your relationship. If someone is advising you to get away from him, he will not be scared to kill them.

He goes against everything that his father tells him to do if he isn’t feeling like doing so. If Jake tries to convince him that he isn’t acting sane he is capable of running away with you. Obviously via manipulation.

If you are scared of him he can go about it in two ways: 1- manipulate you into thinking that you were wrong and feeling guilty of doubting him oooorrrr 2- he will scare/kidnap you into staying with him in a secluded place, far away from you and his family.

I’m the scale he is 8/10 manipulative (he can be really good but only when needed) and 9/10 in violent (again he is really good but he must be really needing to do so).

Kiri

I can’t picture her as a yandere tbh. She is really soft. But let’s give this a try.

She is a manipulative yandere that’s for sure. But she is not scared to use the power of Eywa against those who try to come in between her and her darling.

She will show you the wonders of Pandora, trying to keep you as fascinated as she can so that she can have you close to her. If you are distracted you won’t see the bleeding bodies will you?

She isn’t too violent when it comes to you. She will never show any yandere quirkiness around you. She will also make sure nobody can tell you about it.

If you want to leave her side, she might become aggressive and might as well trap you. You won’t go away. Eywa sent you to her and she will NEVER let go of her mate.

She hasn’t killed someone yet, but she will have it as an option.

She is 4/10 violent (only when SERIOUSLY needed) and 10/10 in manipulative.

Bonus! Tsu’tey

He is a pretty violent yandere. NEVER towards you. He will never act violent towards you.

He is not scared to kill and go great lengths to keep you with him. Even if you don’t believe him, he will always assure you it is for your own good.

He has a soft spot for you. He can be killing mercilessly and then suddenly see you and his whole expression will soften. He will hug you with love.

It is really weird his duality, cold with everything and everyone and then the softest when it comes to you. That might be the reason why you are close to him.

He will play dumb at first, pretending that he has nothing to do with the injured humans/Na’vi or the mysterious murders, but he has done everything.

In the scale he is a 6/10 in manipulative, he does it pretty well at first but then he just gets tired of trying. You are his, why can’t you see it? Why can’t all those dumb humans and Na’vis can’t see it?

He is also a 9/10 violent. He is really violent but never towards you.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

For your safety

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Tetchou Suehiro x GN! Reader

Description: Monster followed after you. Tetchou won't let him hurt you.

Warning: OOC. Implied torture. Mentioned of serious injuries. Nightmares. Panic Attack (heavily inspired by "Puss in Boots: The last wish" scene), English is my second language. Dehumanisation (Capitano calls Reader 'it', Captaino is called an 'it' by Hunting Dogs). Tetchou is a soft protective yandere (yandere, if you squeeze) towards Reader.

________

Who would think, that Watasumi will let Fatui into Enkonomia.

But, catching Imposter was more important, than honoring old traditions.

Because Imposter was here.

And it was finally in Capitano's clutches.

Dirty Imposter, a creature, that dared to walked on the land, blessed by the Creator.

This thing was hiding in an old ruins.

Dressed in rugs, it was biting huge chunks from mushrooms it cooked earlier.

Capitano adjust his hold on claymore's hilt. Just one swing, and it will finally stop poisoning Teyvat.

Capitano took a step forward.

And he made a mistake. He stepped on a twig.

It turned around. It looks scared. It has dried tears on its cheeks.

It ran. As fast, as it can.

And Capitano followed after it.

He catches it.

He raised its claymore.

And Bathysmal Vishaps attacked him.

The damned oversized lizards were attacking non-stop. Keeping Capitano away from it.

Fatui Harbinger saw, how it was riding away on one of the vishaps.

Capitano failed.

_______

It, eventually, was caught.

Justice was almost served.

Until it disappeared.

_______

Capitano, the strongest warrior of Teyvat, head of the Holy Guard, was laying on a deck of a small boat. The boat itself was covered under camouflage awning from camouflage net, seaweeds, rotten wood, old bones of sea serpent and dried dead fish. Few mechanical birds finish the picture. The camouflage was done so skillfully that even from a close distance the boat could easily be mistaken for a dead creature, entangled in garbage and slowly driven by the waves.

The navigation was hard, almost impossible. But Capitano didn't utter a word of protest. He must find, where the dreaded Imposter was hiding.

One month ago, right during their execution, they disappeared. And ever since then, Capitano was ruthless.

If it weren't for vishaps, Capitano would kill it. Capitano was too weak.

So, it was his fault, that Creator was in distress. That, while they were remaining perfect in every way, their cheeks have wet trails from tears on them.

But, this time, Capitano will do it.

He learned about a strange portal in one of the coves, located on a small island in the sea.

Capitano destroyed all documents he had.

No need to worry Creator even more.

He will get to the island unnoticed. And he will get Imposter's head.

The boat finally reached the island.

There were no humans, no animals.

And the portal was here.

Capitano stepped into the portal.

________

Tetchou tuck you in, making sure, that you are laying comfortably under your blanket.

"[Y/N], I will go and bring you some flowers, okay?" softly mumbles Tetchou, looking at you. You nodded, the corners of your lips weakly quirked upwards.

"Sounds good." whispered you. Tetchou's finger ran through your hair. He liked, that you started to smile. He didn't like, that smile didn't reach your eyes.

Tetchou left, and Atsushi Nakajima walked inside your room to stay with you.

Tetchou heard Atsushi's voice behind the closed door. It seems, he was telling you a story.

Tetchou bit his lip and headed to the first floor. He needs to go outside and pick you some flowers.

Maybe, they will lift your mood, at least for a moment.

But, before going here, Tetchou took his sword from his room. In case, people, who did this to you, appeared.

Two months ago, you disappeared. No matter, how hard they try, they couldn't find you. Until, one day, one month ago, you reappeared again.

And you looked awful.

Every part of your body were covered in burns, woulds and scars. You were starving, thirty, and terrified.

Doctor Yosano treated your wounds.

All of them made sure, that you are well-fed and always have water.

And they were doing whatever it takes to help you regain your mental health.

You were terrified of being alone.

And there were always at least one of them next to you.

You were terrified of being hit.

And they were treating you like the most fragile thing in the world.

You were terrified of Mori's voice.

And Boss of Port Mafia spoke only through Elise, whispering in her ear. He never raised his voice.

You have nightmares, waking up in the middle of the night, crying, shouting, that you are not an imposter, begging someone invisible not to hurt you.

And they were always near you, hugging you, drying your tears.

And mentally thinking about killing people, who did this to you.

Tetchou's hate was focused on Capitano.

________

A heavy foot stomped on your stomach, just below your ribs. It took all of your air out of lungs. You gasp, your mouth was wide open, but couldn’t get any air.

Capitano's booming voice filled your ears.

"Got you, little Imposter. Now, let me take that. We don't want you to miss it, aren't we?"

Two fingers pressed against your eyes.

A sharp, unbeatable burning pain.

"Here. Now, you won't be able to close your eyes ever again. Well, it's not like this ever will last for long."

Capitano raised his claymore.

You wanted so badly to close your eyes. But you don't have eyelids anymore.

The blade quickly sank down. Right in your face.

_______

Blood ponded in your ears.

You were breathing heavily.

Your heart was beating fast. You won't be surprised, if your whole body was shaking because of your heartbeats.

You can't focus your gaze in anything. Everything seemed like in a fog.

No sound escaped from your lips. Your moth and throat feels dry. Like you spent all your life without single drop of water.

You were choking. You were crying. You were sweating. You couldn't hear anything.

A heavy stone hand was put over your eyes. Now you were surrounded by darkness.

A heavy stone head was put on your chest. And it was moving.

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

up... down... up... down...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

in... out... in... out...

You put your hand on Tetchou's head, that he laid on your chest. You whisper.

"Thank you... Tetchou..."

He took his hand away from your eyes. You two were silent. Tetchou were still breathing in the same rhythm.

And you were breathing with him.

______

Tetchou never told you, that you were screaming one name in your sleep.

And it was a scream of terror.

Capitano.

His enemy.

Tetchou was halfway to the flower beds, that Kenji made specifically for you, when he heard a loud crash coming from an empty barn.

_____

This man was huge.

Much taller, than Tetchou, dressed in strange armor, the man was towering over the member of Hunting Dogs.

Both males stood on the opposite sides of the barn. Tetchou was still standing near bars gates, while strange mad stand on the furthest wall.

Yellowish-ember eyes stare right into the black void of a mask.

"Who are you?" Tetchou's voice was emotionless. The man's booming voice echoed off the walls of the empty barn.

"I am Capitano, one of the Fatui Harbingers. I am searching for a sinful creature. Have you encountered an ugly creature this big?" Capitano moved his hand forward to show your height. "It has hideous..."

The rest of the words stuck in Capitano's mouth. A thin blade pierce through his palm, shoulder and sword's tip draw blood from his neck.

Tetchou didn't even move an inch. His eyes shrink.

"So... You are the same Capitano, who dared to hurt My Sakura Blossom... Our [Y/N]."

Tetchou dash forward.

And the floor cracked under his feet.

______

Tetchou never moved so fast in his life.

His sword was bending in impossible corners, piercing through Capitano's armor. Wounding, drawing blood.

Not killing.

The Strongest Warrior of Teyvat couldn't land a hit. Tetchou's determination to protect you, to avenge you, to keep you safe gave his strength.

The fight ended, when Tetchou manage to grab the hilt of Capitano's claymore.

Tetchou never used his ability on two-handed sword. Yet, a sword is a sword.

Without his legs, Capitano wasn't so tall anymore.

______

Capitano woke up in a room, that looked similar to Dottore's lab. He was suspended from the ceiling. Heavy chain was holding his arms together.

Hunting Dogs, except for Tetchou, were here. Jouno was the first one, who noticed, that Capitano was awake.

"So, it is finally decided to wake up." Jouno's voice was cold. Deadly.

Tachihara used his ability, to tie chains tighter. Accidentally' breaking Capitano's arm in a process.

"Here. It won't escape."

Teruko was almost dancing in one spot.

"Finally, I was dreaming about the moment I can get my hands on anyone, who dared to hurt our dear [Y/N]."

Fukuchi put his hand on Amenogozen's hilt.

"You aren't the only one, Teruko-kun. Doctor Yosano, should we start?"

Yosano, who was sitting in the dark corner, nodded.

Capitano got a taste of her ability for a few thousand times.

_____

Tetchou put flowers he picked for you in a vase. He noticed, how brighten up your eyes.

"They are beautiful, Tetchou. Thank you."

And a small smile. And this time, it reached your eyes.

Tetchou opened his arms, offering a hug.

And you hugged him, laying your head on his chest.

His arms wrapped around your frame. Protecting you from the outside world.

Tetchou promised to himself, that he will go beyond limits to protect your smile. No matter what, he will do anything he can.

For your safety

_____

Tag list: @withered-blossoms

[jooniperbonsai]

My Bloody Valentine (jjk)

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x human reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 13.9k

Release date: Thurs. February 15, 2024

Genre: smut, fluff, humor, hella angst

Summary: You don't understand why your vampire boyfriend is so caught up in the idea of a silly holiday, until you realize it's about more than just candy hearts.

Warnings: Blood (duh), swearing, blood drinking, lots of angst, allusion to jungkook being bisexual, alcohol, brief description that sounds similar to disordered eating, jungkook is clingy and kind of a brat, so is reader tbh, accusations/assumptions of cheating, both are conflict avoidant which makes things worse, discussions of death and infertility, references to opiate addiction, medical theft, uh y/n kind of non-consensually feeds jungkook her blood, oral sex (m/f), masturbation (m/f), fingering, temperature play, unprotected rough sex, clit spanking, biting kink (!!!! just be warned lol), choking, dirty talk, mention of menstrual sex/oral kink, mention of somnophilia, creampie

a/n: Hi! Happy (late) Valentine’s Day! Thank you all for your enthusiastic support for this fic. I hope it exceeds your expectations (as it exceeded mine). I have some extra thoughts that I’ll leave at the end of this fic to avoid spoilers, but I hope you enjoy my little y/n and vampire Jungkook couple as much as I do. I would like to thank p for talking this universe through with me until it made sense.

“All I’m saying is that Halloween hardly feels like a holiday about vampires!”

“As opposed to what? Christmas?”

You’ve been standing in your kitchen arguing with your boyfriend for so long that the once-scalding cup of coffee in your favorite mug is now cold. Jungkook is sitting on the bar stool against the counter, his white shirt rolled up his forearms to reveal a similar pale shade underneath. You can see the corded tendons of his arms flex as he wrings his hands together in frustration. 

When you woke up this morning, it was not from a lazy well-slept haze you were expecting to have. Instead, you had awoken to a crash coming from the kitchen, sending your heart jolting as you tried to make sense of the world and the source of the noise. 

Buttercup, your cat and usual suspect for mischief, mewled angrily from her perch as she, too, eyed the wrongfully accused sleep disruptor. As she arched her back in one long, tail-shaking stretch, she glared at you and then twirled herself around to face the wall before settling back into her bed with a final huff. 

If it wasn’t Buttercup, then it could only be one other creature. 

You’d padded your way down the hall to the kitchen, only to see Jungkook already dressed and swearing to himself as he gathered the shattered pieces of a glass measuring cup and what looked like orange juice into a pile with a wet dish rag. 

“Don’t come any closer!” he shrieked, and before you could even open your mouth to assure him you’d be fine, he'd already swooped you into the living room and onto the couch. “Don’t move!” he ordered and because you heard the sharp warning creeping into his tone, you obeyed. 

An hour and a half later, the kitchen is a mess from what you now understand to be Jungkook’s attempt at cooking you breakfast for Valentine’s Day, a holiday that you both agreed you wouldn’t celebrate.

You take a sip of your coffee, trying not to wince at how it still somehow tastes burnt through the too-sweet pink sugar cookie creamer he’d doused it with when he insisted on making you a cup. 

“No, of course not. Y/N! But don’t you think Valentine’s Day should be more about vampires?” 

You snort, and the residual coffee on your tongue shoots to the back of your throat, sending you into a coughing fit. 

“What?” You say when you finally regain composure. You set down the mug and glance around for a single cup in your kitchen that hasn’t been dirtied in this process of making…well…you’re not sure what. There’s some burnt edges of something in the sink, but a weird goo glazing various bowls that somewhat resembles pancakes. However, a bright green lump of…maybe spinach?...rests in those as well, so you’re not entirely confident where he was going with this execution. 

Jungkook isn’t usually this oblivious to human tendencies, mostly because it wasn’t so long ago that he himself was a human. In the year you’ve been together, you’ve learned all about Jungkook’s swift descent into vampirism. Unlike many of his kind, he’s a fledgling. He was turned a handful of years ago and doesn’t exist in the ancient, strange accents and customs form of vampire some know. Nor is he a sleepless, sparkly teenager with superhuman speed. Yes, he has fangs, is paler than the normal person, and he will not (you think) age. But as someone who has maintained his twenty-something appearance, this currently presents as a non-issue because, if still alive, he would still be a twenty-something. 

And unlike the stereotypes of his kind, Jungkook is not in a decades-long bloodlust. Lust, perhaps, but it’s unknown if that’s because of his vampirism or because he’s a horny man. The one who changed Jungkook did so in a dark night club in Paris between searing hot kisses, where he slid his fangs along Jungkook’s throat while rutting against him on the dance floor. Jungkook, in that drunk and sex-induced haze, never suspected that the slight sharpness tracing along his jugular, sending a delicious chill down his spine, would result in him waking up three days later in a hotel in Vienna with nothing more than a vague note of warning and a few plastic bags of blood chilling in the mini fridge. 

While he doesn’t consume much now beyond A or O positive, Jungkok often cooks you meals so you’re not as tired when you get home from work. It’s sweet, but you know that he does it for himself, for the reminder of his humanity and, as he once admitted himself, for the fact that more energy saved from you not cooking means more energy for him to fuck out of you seven days a week. 

“I’m going to need you to explain your reasoning behind that logic,” you say, and finally locate a clean cup to fill with water. 

Jungkook grunts, and when you glance over at him, you can see he's pouting, his dual lip rings pulled under one of his fangs. 

“Well,” he says, tense, “I just thought…with all this stuff, Valentine’s Day should be more about, you know, vampires? Blood? Red? Hearts?”

“Baby,” you laugh, and fish around on the cluttered countertop for something to eat until you spot a bowl of strawberries tucked behind a jar of kimchi. Your stomach growls. “Valentine’s Day uses the heart motif because of love. You know that. You weren’t born yesterday.” 

He rolls his eyes in annoyance and you furrow your brow before popping the sweet fruit into your mouth. What is going on with him today? 

“Yes, I know I wasn’t born yesterday! Thank you for the reminder! But I’m saying that Halloween is this holiday that makes vampires into these beasts who suck and drain all the blood from bodies or sleep in coffins! Beware the dark corners of the world or else they’ll get you! But Valentine’s Day, what even is this about? A fat naked baby who spears you with an arrow and suddenly you’re in love with someone? Sounds way more monstrous to me! And people embrace this guy? People want him to stab them so they can be all fluttery in love and get all these nice things. But I have to be seen as this awful monster all the time? It’s just not fair!” he shouts, and swipes his hand across the counter. 

You gasp as you watch an empty plastic container clatter to the ground before he brings his hands up to cover his face. 

Jungkook isn’t one for temper tantrums. While he does have a tendency to be more sensitive, throwing things, even empty containers, is very out of the norm for him. You remember early on in your relationship, he once used a little too much of his supernatural strength to hit you with a pillow when you were both goofing off, which resulted in you being smacked right off the bed with the wind knocked out of you. 

You spent the rest of the day posted up on the couch under his orders, while he waited on you hand-and-foot despite the fact that once you recovered (mostly from laughter), you were perfectly fine. It led to an eventual discussion about how you weren’t so breakable, where you proved your point by showing him just how flexible you were. 

Which is why now, as Jungkook huffs all over the place, you know something is seriously wrong. 

You move away from the strawberries and walk around the kitchen island to Jungkook, gently pulling his hands down.

“Hey,” you whisper, looking up at him. His hair has fallen into his face, disheveled from all his fussing in the kitchen and the many times this morning you’ve seen him running his fingers through it. 

Jungkook yanks his hand away and stands, pushing away from the counter before stomping into the living room and pacing angrily. You follow him.

“Hey,” you try again, firmer. “You gonna tell me what is going on? Because normally you don’t leave a giant mess of whatever that is going on in the kitchen before you walk away from it, and you especially don’t walk away from me when I’m trying to talk to you.” Your jaw sets and you stand in the doorway, crossing your arms as you watch him pace. 

He responds with a sarcastic laugh. “Yeah, well that’s a start. Can’t even fucking cook my girlfriend a meal on this stupid holiday.”

This is exactly why you told Jungkook you don’t want to celebrate Valentine’s Day this year. All week long he’s been making snarky comments about it, from rants about the greeting card company’s agenda to explaining how it’s become over-the-top and overrated to now, as of this morning, promoting vampires as the superior holiday mascot to Cupid.

Truthfully, you’ve always liked this holiday. When all the post-holiday sales were running months ago, you’d noticed a deal on the record player Jungkook had been eying for months but would never let himself have. His last one had started to break right after you two started dating, but he was always a good sport about it, cracking jokes about how the old-timey canned sound it produced didn’t play Eminem, but “Eminesquire the Third”. Prompted by the desperate need to replace the tinny echoes that haunted your apartment, you didn’t hesitate to snag this gift for him and immediately wrapped it before shoving it under your bed to give to him today. 

Well, that was until all this started a little over a week ago. Up until that point, he’d seemed fine, never mentioning an opinion on Valentine’s Day. Then one morning you woke up and saw him complaining about how since he turned he would never be able to eat chocolate again. Which was incredibly dramatic, because Jungkook can eat if he wants to, but he chooses not to since it doesn’t do anything for him anymore. 

Every mention of the holiday since, from the ads popping up on his phone to the colorful heart shaped decorations in store fronts, has made him irate and hostile. 

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but I didn’t ask you to make me breakfast,” you huff, now offset by his bad mood. “Like, I know that I told you last week we didn’t have to do any of this. So I’m not sure why now you’re trying to make some grand gesture of breakfast or stomping around arguing with me about the politics of vampires being a traditional mascot for Halloween instead of Valentine’s Day or how dumb you think this holiday is.” 

His nostrils flare. “Well excuse me for trying to be a good boyfriend and do something nice for you!” 

“What?” Heat flashes through your entire body as you feel the thin hold you have on your anger slip. “Oh, I see. So this is all about me is it? This is my fault? Tell me, when I go in there and clean up your mess of all my food you wasted by doing this nice thing I didn’t ask for, is that also for me as a treat? Or is that going to be leftover in the fridge for me to clean later?” 

Jungkook’s eyes narrow as you match his anger. He opens his mouth to speak, but you raise your eyebrow, daring him to try. 

“Ah ah,” you warn, your voice laced with venom. “I’m not fucking done speaking.”

He slides his tongue over his teeth instead before sucking in his lips. 

“So, after I noticed it hurt you and said we didn’t have to do it, after I promised you I didn’t mind if we skipped the theatrics of this holiday, you what? Took it out on me? How the hell is this being a good boyfriend, Jungkook? How is you shutting me out for the last week, pouting and being an absolute brat doing me any favors? Showing you love me?”

You begin to feel the fury recede into something worse: pain. It settles over the heat, moving back down into your throat with a sharp lump. 

“You wanna talk about shutting someone out, Y/N? Really?” Jungkook roars, halting his anxious movement. “That’s rich considering the secrets you’re keeping!”

Your brain buzzes with confusion and anger. You rewind the conversation, trying to form connections that would lead to this accusation. 

“Are you serious? Wh-Do you think I’m cheating or s-something? Jungkook who the fuck do you think–” Your voice cracks, and you heft a heavy sob from your chest. 

Never in your relationship have you two ever suspected the other of cheating. You’ve always been so certain of each other, that you two would never stray, that your connection and the very nature of your relationship demonstrated a type of bond that didn’t present anyone else as an option simply because you never wanted anyone else. 

But given how things have been going, how Jungkook has been hiding things from you, you are starting to wonder if that’s not the case, if him pulling away isn’t to try to protect himself from getting hurt. 

You’ve also tried not to notice how this month, when you counted the inventory of the blood bags stashed in the back of the freezer, it wasn’t nearly as empty as it usually was. You considered that maybe Jungkook just wasn’t thirsty, that maybe some of the bags you’d snagged from work, one of them being plasma, were satiating his hunger more than usual. With how Jungkook is looking at you now, eyes wide with the shock of your address, you can see you were wrong, the faint circles of thirst tugging under his eyelids. 

You pull your shirt sleeve up to wipe your dripping nose, only to see it’s stained blue from some mysterious breakfast ingredient. 

“I’m not saying you’re cheating, Y/N! God why would you think that! Fuck, no, this.” He produces a folded up envelope from his back pocket and shoves it toward you. 

You sniffle and take the envelope, noticing it’s addressed to you. From your work. 

Your stomach sinks. You know exactly what that is. “You know what? I’m going to take a shower,” you mumble, and you see in your periphery Jungkook’s head snap toward you. 

“What?” he says exasperated. “Now? We–”.

You nod, choosing not to look at him now as you cut down the hall and shut the bathroom door firmly behind you.

You and Jungkook met, ironically, at a blood drive. 

You were both volunteering to hand out snacks and mini water bottles to donors at the drive. This was a few months before Jungkook had gone on his Eurotrip, a few months before he would never again be able to volunteer with clinics to help patients. 

While you’d met back then, and certainly had some chemistry that resulted in one really sexy car makeout ending with his hand down your scrub pants and you panting into his neck, it wasn’t until a few years later you’d reunited. 

Jungkook had been pacing around the clinic near closing time, his thirst becoming far more unbearable by the hour. He had been trying desperately to avoid consuming human blood, but the various city rats or injured birds he was drinking from were still racking him with unfavorable guilt and an almost hazy sickness you remember sinking his features. 

When you went to leave that night, you’d spotted Jungkook propped up against one of the glass doors, pale, with heavy bruise-like markings under his eyes. He was conscious, you’d noted, despite the fact that you couldn’t detect a pulse and his skin felt harder and icy to the touch. When you grabbed your phone to call an ambulance, he knocked it from your hand, instead begging you for a bag of blood. 

“I can’t do transfusions, Jungkook, not here. That’s why we need to get you the hospital, so we can you look you over and–”

“No, Y’N, that’s not what I mean.” He’d laughed and flashed you a weak smile. “I don’t need a transfusion.”

“Then, what––.”

And that’s when you saw them: his fangs. 

When you’d heard about Jungkook going missing in Paris, randomly disappearing in the night and showing back up months later with no story to share, there were rumors circulating that he’d started doing drugs and lost his job at the record store because in Europe he got hooked on opiates. 

And you’d so easily believed that lie, though it soured your stomach. What other explanation was there for someone disappearing and coming back more pale, less human? You simply continued on with your work, finishing school in between and finding a more permanent presence at the clinic as a phlebotomist.

Feeling guilty, you turned around and headed back into the building, emerging with two bags of warm blood that you watched him practically shotgun in the passenger seat of your car. You didn’t tell him it was your blood, but as he told you later, he knew anyway. He could smell your particular flavor dotting the bandage. 

Slowly, you and Jungkook became closer, you swiped a blood bag here and there from the clinic when no one was looking, sitting with him as he told you the story of him turning or the first time he fed. It seemed too surreal to be true, but as the dark circles under his eyes began to fade over the weeks, and his laugh started sounding more round and full, you felt like there was no way you could deny who he was, or more importantly, how he made you feel. 

Being around Jungkook was addicting, which was evident in how easy it became for you to steal blood from the clinic without thinking twice. At first, you felt awful, knowing that each bag you were taking could very well be taking away someone else’s chance at life. But the more you thought about Jungkook, how he was just as alive as any human– how he feathered his fingers through his hair or how just a few years ago he breathed and moaned before you in the backseat of your car– what really was the difference between giving him blood versus some other person? Didn’t both bodies need it to survive? 

The months ran on, and the crisp fall days that welcomed Jungkook back into your life were becoming tender, warmer as the early blooms of spring replaced them. Jungkook, too, was warmer, his body full and flushed with blood as he finally returned to as much of a human as he can be, reaching for your hand when you two walked through the park together, or falling asleep on your stomach while watching a movie. 

Vampires sleep, you learned, though it’s not so much necessary as it is habitual, as Jungkook explained. He once tested himself to see how long he could go without sleeping, and as it turned out, the answer was evidently forever, for he managed three weeks not feeling groggy in the slightest. But sleeping helped time pass. Nights were lonely when the only people he wanted to interact with weren’t around, and grappling with being some shade of immortal often led Jungkook into a spiral as he processed time passing. 

Therefore, sleep was welcome when it came. Especially with you, who he could tuck himself close to, and the soft beat of your heart served as his lullaby.

That’s when you knew that you loved him: when he told you that he went to sleep for you, that otherwise, he waited for you to wake up so he could see you again. 

You’d become just as addicting to be around as he was for you, and you trusted it wasn’t just because you were his favorite teller at the blood bank who snuck him a withdrawal. 

It was because he loved you too.

The fog on the bathroom mirror doesn’t show your reflection currently, but if it did, you know you’d see Jungkook standing behind you silently as you brush your teeth. Despite his stillness and his ability to appear without making a sound when he wants, your body reacts to Jungkook like a magnet pulled toward metal. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks finally, and you rinse your mouth. 

“Because, I didn’t want you to feel guilty,” you say and reach for the envelope you left on the bathroom counter before your shower. 

After a year of sneaking blood from the clinic, one year of popping plastic bags your into pockets after writing them off under a sealing failure or manufacturing issue or recording less volume in the official donation records or claiming a miscount in inventory, you were finally caught last week with a warm bag of blood in your possession.

Stupidly, you’d popped it into your purse right before an end-of-day meeting and in the rush to make it on time, you didn’t zip everything closed securely. When you inevitably knocked your knee onto the table while shifting to get more comfortable, your purse tumbled to the floor, exposing the vermillion contents within, and issuing you an immediate suspension. 

Suspension, instead of fire only for the singular fact that the bag of cooling blood was your own. 

You had known for a while that the clinic’s director of operations was becoming suspicious. The entire team had been subject to instances of recertification and retraining to try to address whatever issues that were leading to so many mishaps. It would only be a matter of time before the records kept showing your name attached to these transgressions, though you were almost relieved when you’d learned there were other various cases of blood loss occurring for factors you weren’t responsible for, most notably some interns who kept forgetting to put the bags containing red blood cells in the refrigerator, or who were not filling the entire bags, disqualifying the entire sample. 

Overall, it would be safer to divest from your current plan, but finding an alternative to feed Jungkook was more difficult than you thought. You knew given the shortage of blood donations, you could no longer keep gleaning from work or other affiliates as resources. 

But you also couldn’t convince Jungkook to feed from you. 

You’d tried many times in the last year when he was dizzy or grumpy from thirst. And every time without fail, he refused. 

“I haven’t even bitten anyone before,” he admitted one day, the dark circles under his eyes especially purple. His stubborn refusal slurred his speech into a lisp. “And I don’t intend to start now! Especially not with you!” 

You’d dropped the subject, rooting around in the freezer until you found a blocky pint underneath a tub of freezer-burned ice cream. 

But Jungkook had drunk your blood before on that first night at the clinic. And maybe if you executed things carefully, you could supplement some packets of your own blood in to help him get by. That way, he wouldn't have to bite you, but at least he would be fed. And you wouldn’t be at risk of imprisonment for medical theft. 

So that’s what you started to do, slowly introducing him to your blood by creating fake donor names with the label machine and reprinting the same barcode as you filled bag after bag over the weeks. 

And then last week, you got caught, your only assurance that you might only be suspended rooted in the fact that you hadn’t had the time to issue a fake label for the bag before the meeting. 

And, because the blood was still warm in its pouch, because your arm had only just stopped bleeding, your case that you made of the blood being yours wasn’t entirely unreasonable. But what no one could understand was why you needed a bag of your own blood in the first place, much less why you were doing your own draw of it. 

They confiscated the bag, as well as a small sample you offered for lab comparison to confirm it was yours, and they sent you home with the letter almost like you were a kid who was in trouble at school. 

Your suspension is in effect until the board meets later this week to discuss your case, at which time you’ll be informed if you’re terminated or if you’ll be put on probation. 

You’ve accepted that you might be fired, but what you couldn’t  accept is the idea that Jungkook would definitely blame himself if he found out. Which is why you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him when it happened. If you did, you knew you would also have to admit to him that you have been non-consensually feeding him your blood instead of others’, which was a conversation you’d hoped to avoid until you were sure he would understand. Instead, you fucked up, and it’s all the more apparent as Jungkook frowns at you in the bathroom.

You rinse your mouth of the toothpaste, feeling a huge shard of guilt pierce your stomach. 

“I wouldn’t have let you keep doing this if I’d known you were at risk of losing your job,” he mutters. “You already know I feel shitty even relying on you like this.”

“That’s exactly my point! That’s why I didn’t tell you! Because I knew we would end up here!”

“And that’s why this is a problem! You are failing to see how fucked up it is for me to have to depend on you to feed me!”

“Why?” You snap, and you immediately regret it, giving him an apologetic frown. “Sorry, I mean. Why do you feel so shitty relying on me? We’re partners, Jungkook.” 

“Yeah, Y/N, we’re partners. Which means we are supposed to communicate with each other about things. That doesn’t mean you risk your entire career for me.” 

“But doesn’t it, though?” You argue. 

Jungkook groans and then wets his lips with his tongue before speaking. “No, baby. You’re not supposed to be making sacrifices like this! Not for me! Fuck, you shouldn’t be doing shit like this at all! You should be going to work, kicking ass, and then coming home to eat real food with your real boyfriend before you have incredible sex and then fall asleep!”

You cock your head at him, confused. “But, Jungkook, we already do that stuff.”

“No, we don’t, Y/N. You go to work, orchestrate some grand scheme to basically illegally harvest strangers’ blood during a national shortage, you come home and you eat. But I don’t. I leech off of someone else’s platelets. And then we have sex, and you fall asleep. And sometimes I do. But sometimes, I can’t. Because all I want to do is dream of you and I can’t do that anymore. Because I’m not real, Y/N, I’m literally a monster.” 

You shake your head furiously and step toward him. “Listen. I made the choice to do this. Ever since the first day when you showed up at the clinic. I could have left you behind, I could have insisted to take you to the hospital anyway or put you in a headlock or something–”

“You are way too weak to put me in a headlock, even on that day,” he chuckles. 

“I would have figured it out! But I had a choice in this Jungkook, just as much as you did for showing up, for asking me to help you. You could have gone somewhere else, or broken into the clinic after I left. You could have continued to live a half-life with a diet of rats and the occasional squirrel. But you chose this. You made choices, too.”

You push your toweled body into him, desperate for his touch. This is how you often are with him, needing him to ground you, to make sure you don’t spin out of control. He sighs, and you feel him circle his arms around you, his nose nuzzling into your wet hair. You shiver at the contact. Your shower must’ve been hotter than normal, because Jungkook feels almost like ice against your skin, much colder than his normal, albeit cooler temperature. 

“Fuck, Jungkook, when was the last time you ate?” you ask. 

He stiffens, then withdraws from the embrace.

“Get dressed,” he says, ignoring your question, before opening the door to the bathroom, the draft of the apartment, of his absence, leaving goosebumps on your skin in its wake.

The kitchen is clean, any and all evidence of this morning’s tirade gone. Jungkook has changed out of his jeans and button-down for a black hoodie and basketball shorts, solidifying the idea that he has no intention of leaving the apartment for the rest of the day. 

You dress down similarly, throwing on a large ratty t-shirt and some sweats, very similar to the pajamas you’d been wearing for most of the day. 

There’s a fresh pot of coffee brewing, but you ignore it, your stomach feeling sour over the idea of putting anything into it right now. 

You lead Jungkook into the living room, and both of you sit on the couch, legs folded as you face one another. 

“I know you’re not eating.” You try to say it softly, like an observation, but as the words leave your mouth, you hear them sound accusatory, tense. 

“I know you know I’m not eating,” he responds, his tone even and cool. “I’ve seen you doing inventory checks daily.” 

“You have to eat,” you urge. “You can’t just starve like this.”

“I’m not starving,” he says, still composed, distant. 

“Bun, you’ve significantly curbed your consumption. You used to throw back two pints a day, easily.” 

“Yes, well, that was before I found out my girlfriend was suspended from work for smuggling me those two pints, jeopardizing her entire future.”

“I don’t understand why you’re making this a bigger deal than it is.”

His eyebrows rise. “I don’t understand why you’re not making it the bigger deal that it is!” 

“Because it’s not! Not really! I have it under control!”

“And how exactly do you have this under control? Getting fired? Ruining your life isn’t control!”

“I don’t think I’ll be fired. Put on probation maybe, but not fired.”

“And why are you so sure about that?”

“Because…because I didn’t steal someone else’s blood. And that’s a criminal offense. But the laws are muddier when it’s your own blood.”

“Your…your own blood. You were caught with your own blood.” Jungkook looks at you quizzically. And then you see it register. His pupils blow wide. 

“I fucking knew it,” he says. “I knew I was tasting you. I thought maybe it was just because you were on your period for a little longer than usual this month, and that maybe I was catching something in the air and just mixing up the scent with the taste of the blood. But, fuck! Goddamn it Y/N! I told you I didn’t want to feed from you and you just went and did it anyway?” 

“I’m sorry,” you admit, your cheeks burning with guilt. “I just wanted to help you.” 

“By taking away my choice in the matter? By hurting yourself? Shit!” 

“No. I–I know you said you didn’t want to bite me, so I thought maybe if I did it this way that it wouldn’t be so bad and you wouldn’t have to feel so bad about it! And then I wouldn’t be as likely to be caught at work. It gave me some protection too in this! The board is meeting later this week to talk about my case and because the blood results proved to be mine, they just have to decide an appropriate punishment. I’m not going to go to jail over this, and if I lose my job, I’ll figure something out. But, I really didn’t mean to take away your choice, and I see now that I did.” You feel your throat close as you begin to cry.. 

Jungkook is right, you took away his choice by doing this, and no matter your intention, he has the right to know. 

“I’m really sorry. I completely fucked up doing this.”

“Yeah, you did. But not in the way you’re seeing this. God. It’s not about biting or not biting, it’s how easily you did it for me. How you keep putting yourself, your own health, at risk for me! You don’t get it! You stole blood for me for almost a year. And then when you started to realize your future was at stake, you took it from your own body. Which you shouldn’t have to do!”

You swipe at the tears pooling from your eyes. “You keep saying that. Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true, baby! You shouldn’t be in this weird supernatural chaos! It’s Valentine’s Day! You should be feeding your boyfriend chocolates or eating breakfast in bed. Exchanging presents and going on dates to dinner or the movies. Having sex! And not just sex, making love, making babies!” 

“But you said you didn’t want to do any of that! Jungkook, I’m so confused. What is it that you want? If you want to celebrate Valentine’s Day, I have a present for you wrapped up that I’ve been dying to give you for months. And we can go to the movies. We can have sex… I don’t even want a baby!”

You pull a pillow into your lap like a shield. 

“You do want a baby,” he accuses. You snap your head up. 

“What? No, I–”

“You do. You told me on Christmas Eve, when we were watching that movie on the couch. You were falling asleep during it, but in that scene when he comes home after saying no to that deal, she says ‘I want my baby to look like you’ and you looked up at me so sleepy and warm and alive, and you repeated it back to me. You said ‘I want my baby to look like you.’” 

You think back to that night, when you and Jungkook were cuddled up together watching It’s A Wonderful Life since he’d never seen it, and between sips of a very strong eggnog, you kept studying his face, almost overwhelmed by the idea that you could ever love him more than you did in this moment. When Mary told George she was pregnant, something just felt right about that phrase, and in your tipsy, sleepy, haze, you must have recited that part back to him. 

Honestly, you do want your baby to look like him. You can’t imagine anyone else in the world whose features you would want to see copied into another human, one that you make together. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. I’m not mad that you said it. I’m honored. Because if I could have children, I would want them to look like you.” His voice is tight. “But I can’t give you that. I think if I could, we would currently be arguing over paint swatches and baby names while I rub your swollen feet, not this. Because fuck we have definitely not been careful,” he chuckles. 

Despite the sadness in his voice, you feel yourself smirk. 

“And even if we adopted, that doesn’t solve one of the biggest issues out of all of this. Which is that you will grow older and more beautiful and our children would grow older and more beautiful, and I don’t know if I will. I don’t know if I’m going to be doomed by the stereotypical vampire life because I don’t know who turned me. He didn’t give me anything to go off of. Maybe I age but I do it slower. Maybe I will never age. Maybe I live forever or just a little longer than you. Or fuck, maybe instead of living forever, vampires actually have an insanely short life span because we are just another type of mosquito derivative!”

You laugh at that, though you still feel the tears staining your cheeks, making no effort to stop. 

“The point is, I can’t promise you anything human. I can’t promise you a normal life with me. Babies that we make, us growing old together. If I could do one thing different, I kinda wish I put a baby into you the first time we fucked around in that car. God knows I was hard enough.” 

“Jungkook,” you choke, ignoring his attempt at deflecting. “I don’t care about any of that. I know I said that stuff on Christmas, but I didn’t mean it like that. Maybe you can have kids! Like you said, you don’t know. For all we know, my freakishly long periods might be a sign I’m infertile. I don’t know either, I haven’t gone to the doctor or taken tests because I haven’t been too worried about it. That or aging or any of this! My job even.”

“Wait, hold on, back up. You might be infertile?” He looks almost offended by his own use of the term. 

You nod. “Maybe, but I haven’t really been thinking about it lately. I’ve been more worried about you, more focused on you.”

He squints. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been evasive and bratty and honestly just fucking awful. And I can see why. You’re thirsty. You stopped eating again. You started screaming about heart themed things being for vampires. You’ve been avoiding me…is that why you haven’t told me anything? Because of my work thing?”

“I still can’t understand why you are this nonchalant about your career,” he says and you shrug. 

“Bunny,” you warn, and Jungkook crosses his arms across his chest.

“Okay, yes,” he concedes. “Part of this is due to that. Because you didn’t tell me. But also I feel like I’m ruining your life. And if that’s the case, if I’m taking so much from you, I want to take less. I want to be less.”

“I’m a parasite. A leech. I consume human blood to carry on living my nonexistent life. I sleep but I don’t dream. I can’t enjoy things the same way. I can’t be normal and that’s what you deserve. What you need. So if I’m going to be a parasite and dependent on you, I want to make things easier. You mentioned that gift under the bed…and, I don’t know that started it all. Got me thinking about all the things I can’t give you. All the experiences you’ll never have because of me. But how much you want it. Valentine’s Day. Baby, I know it’s a holiday you like. I see your eyes sparkle every time you pass the decorations and candy at the store. Of course you have had a present for me wrapped and ready since Christmas, because that’s you and how incredible you are. And I wanted to give you some of that back, but the more I thought about it, the angrier I got that I can never be good enough for you. I can’t give you everything. And then this morning, I don’t know, I snapped. I tried to cook you something I normally can do with my eyes blindfolded and walking backwards but everything came toppling down around me and I got overwhelmed and ended up fucking it all up.” 

Jungkook reaches across the couch, taking your hand in his, tracing his thumb across your knuckles. 

“You’re so dramatic,” you accuse, and roll your eyes. 

Jungkook retracts his hand and pouts. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“You’re being dramatic and over the top with this broody Edward Cullen shit. I’m sick of it.” You toss the pillow to the side and sit up on the couch, edging your body closer. 

“For starters, you’re punishing yourself by not eating. Your hands are like ice, and that means you’re extremely underfed because very little blood is in you. Second, you refuse to eat because at first  it was someone else’s blood and I could get in trouble so that justified not doing it. But now that it’s freely available, because it’s mine you have some moral conniption preventing you from nourishing your body. And all of this is circling around the same problem. Which is you deciding for me what you think I want and need.” You hover just above him now, your knees digging into the cushions on either side of him as you trap him under you. 

“You decided wrong, by the way. You based what I want not on who I am, but on your own insecurities and fears about me, Jungkook. And that’s not fair to me.” 

You plant yourself down on him, straddling your weight across his chest. Jungkook gazes up at you, a frown still etched on his face, though it’s grown softer. 

“It’s also not fair to me that you are trying to control my decision about feeding from you or not. If you were a vegetarian, how would you feel if I had replaced your veggie burgers with meat patties just because I thought you needed the protein?” He asks.

You hadn’t thought about that. Your shoulders sag as you sit with the realization. 

“I need you to trust that I won’t ever go back to feeling the way I did when we first met. Look at me, are the marks under my eyes as dark? Am I as hard or pale?” You shake your head, and Jungkook reaches up to your face, touching his palm to your cheek. “I am thirsty, baby. But I also know how to control myself. I have spent months with you, around your blood, smelling you when you do something as little as get a paper cut or have a large blood clot pass during your period. Don’t look at me like that, it’s literally just blood from your body, you as a phlebotomist know better than to find that weird or gross.” You giggle, trying to ward away the flush of your cheeks. “And yes, it hurts, but kind of like when you smell something really good cooking in the kitchen and your stomach growls. But that’s the worst of it.”

“Is it though?” you ask gently, trying not to argue with him, but his eyes seem almost cloudy to you. 

His brows knit and he opens his mouth but then shuts it, nodding for you to continue. Instead, he strokes along your brow bone, then down the curves of your jaw, tracing your features with his index finger.

“Your eyes aren’t as clear as they are when you feed regularly,” you sigh sadly. “I don’t want to change you, at all. But you’re warmer then too. And on days like today, it would be nice to have you less frigid to cuddle up next to. But I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do. I was wrong to not tell you about my work stuff and my blood. Those are two big things that you deserve to know as my partner, and because they impact you directly. I’m sorry.” 

You take his hand in yours and bring it down over your chest. “If you don’t want to drink those blood packs, I understand. We’ll find some other way of getting you blood. But we need to make these decisions together. All of them. No more of us deciding we know what the other person needs best. That means I am not force feeding you my blood, I know. It also means you don’t get to decide if I want to have a biological baby or if I want to grow old with someone else.”

Jungkook contemplates this, and then nods in agreement. 

“Do you feel that?” You ask, glancing down to your chest, referring to your heart beat. 

“Yeah,” he whispers. 

“Good, because in all this, you keep saying you’re this monster and that can’t be further from the truth. Maybe I don’t need normal, because I don’t want normal. I want you. And I am alive and warm as a human is, sure. You insist you’re not alive. But what is life really? Do you need to be breathing and to have a beating heart like mine to experience love? Joy? The things that make up life? You feel me. Even if it’s all a habit now. The memory of your body, I don’t know. I don’t know how you work either but that doesn’t matter.”

“Do you need to have dreams or to eat chocolate or make babies to feel like you’re living, Jungkook? Because I don't think you do. I think your body and my body sitting here together, my heart pumping blood through me, more than I probably even need to keep me going, is more than enough for me. You loving me, I think that’s life. Is that not enough for you?”

Jungkook’s eyes are glassy, and he takes a deep breath, also probably out of habit more than necessity.  “No, it’s more than enough,” he says.  “I think this is life.”

You smile. “Okay, then let’s live. Let’s live like this. Whatever it is. And we can decide as we go what living looks like, alright?”

Jungkook releases his bottom lip from his fang. “Alright.”

You lean in, and Jungkook’s lips pull up into a smirk right before he kisses you, molding his body into yours with relief. 

You welcome his tongue into your mouth, surprised by how cold even that is. When you pull away to catch your breath, you pull yourself tightly against him. 

“We need to find you something to eat,” you say for what feels like the millionth time today, and Jungkook sighs. 

“Tomorrow, okay? I just want to be close to you right now.” He burrows deeper into your t-shirt and you hum in agreement, letting the soft animal of his body feel like home.

The rest of the day, the two of you drift back into the softer and more familiar patterns of your relationship that the last week has disrupted. 

Jungkook cooks you dinner, properly this time, a steak you wash down with a beer, the two of you discussing your friends and the latest episode of the show you finally have caught up watching, the tense air between you two perhaps not entirely diffused, but ultimately much more at ease than before. 

You choose to not address the moment in your peripheral vision when you see Jungkook gnawing on some bloody gristle that he trimmed off the steak, his brows set in dissatisfaction as he tries to replace some of the nutrients he’s craving. 

He’s thirstier than he’s admitting, you know, but you are trying to loosen the tight hold of control you are tempted to have. 

“Hey,” you say as you load your dirty dishes into the dishwasher. 

Jungkook, who is reading the beer founder’s story on the back of your empty can, perks up, curious.

“Do you want to open your present?” you ask, and can’t help but laugh at the way his face lights up at the suggestion. 

“Oh my god, yes! I've been dying to know what it is since Christmas!” He beams, and before you can even move to go get it from under your bed, he’s gone, shuffling around down the hallway and cooing to Buttercup, who has just finished her own dinner. 

When he reappears, he puts the gift on the counter and looks at you sheepishly. 

“Um,” he says, and you can tell he’s desperately trying to be polite and well behaved like a small child on their birthday. 

You snort. “Open it, bunny.” 

Jungkook rips right into the paper, his jaw dropping. “You! This?”

You watch as he takes off into the living room to disassemble the current turntable setup. 

“Goodbye Old Play, Fall Down Boy, and Alicia Broken Piano Keys,” he sing-songs. “Damn, when was the last time we had music around here?” 

You watch him putter around. 

This, you think, could be a good life. 

Lying in bed, you drift between a dreamstate and your overactive brain trying to process your reality. Thoughts of your job, more specifically what you’ll do if you actually are fired filter through your head. You suppose you’d change careers, but this job has always been the one thing you wanted in life, at least before you had Jungkook. 

Between a body heat barrier of blankets and pillows, you toss yourself around and sigh, finally coming to a state of being fully awake. Jungkook shifts across the pile to alert you that he, too, is awake. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks gruffly, and you grunt as you roll over. 

“Can’t sleep,” you whine, and you move one of the pillows shoved between the two of you out of the way so you can see his face in the dark. 

The soft glow of the outside city lights shifts through the window, casting a hint of pale blue light across his face. Like this, he looks more wan, sallow, and your heart wrenches. God, it’s so hard to see him this way, starving himself, and you know you shouldn’t feel guilty, but with the day behind you, you feel the late-night flood of regret starting to taint your mind as you try to figure out how you let this all go so horribly wrong.

“Busy mind?” He asks, and you blink up at him, a little surprised by how it seems as though he’s reading your thoughts. 

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” he grumbles, and then reaches out to pull you into him, his cold hands in an even colder room sending a tremor through your body. 

“God, I’m sorry,” he says, and you clench your teeth. 

“ s’okay” you mumble, and you push your face into his chest to warm your nose in his hoodie, throwing your leg over him to bring you closer. 

Jungkook gently rubs your back, his touch light as his fingers trace up and down your spine. It tingles, sending a shiver that hardens your nipples. 

“What were you thinking about?” he asks after a long pause. 

You could lie, and then you wouldn’t have to worry that Jungkook would be awake all night carrying your baggage for you. But, you know how important this step of honesty is, so you take a deep breath. 

“I-I just keep thinking about work. What’s going to happen? I don’t regret it, please don’t think I do or misunderstand. But I love my job. I love you more. It just feels all convoluted and scary. If I get fired, how will we afford this apartment? Find your blood?”

You feel Jungkook take a steep inhale, and you know he’s doing this to steady you, that his lungs don’t really need to expand but to breathe next to him, with him, is what feels the most natural to you both. 

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he says, and you fight the urge to cry for the third time today. 

“I know it’ll be okay,” you assure him, “but I’m sad anyway.”

His fingers continue to strum along your spine, soothing you in the quiet winter night. At some point Buttercup gets up to go prowl around the apartment in her usual late-night zoomies, leaving you two alone in your little universe. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot tonight, too,” Jungkook mumbles into the dark. 

“About what,” you whisper. The wind outside kicks up, and you feel a sharp draft cut against your now-bare legs, beading you with goosebumps that make you shiver. 

Jungkook tuts, shifting you to his side momentarily so he can reach down and pull up your thick duvet. You relish the return to warmth and lay back down on him, resting your head onto his chest while letting out a satisfied sigh.

“Feeding,” he says casually, but you can still hear the hunger in the word as he pronounces every syllable sharply. A different kind of tremor rocks through you, and you feel a tug of arousal behind your belly button. 

“Oh,” you say, trying to be unaffected, but Jungkook sees right through you and chuckles. 

“The first time I tasted your blood, you don’t even know what it did to me, Y/N,” he groans.

“It felt like every single dead neuron in my body was firing all at once again. I’ve never experienced anything like it. You were so warm, your blood was so thick on my tongue. I knew I was going to crave you for the rest of my, well I guess, existence.” 

You squirm a little, trying to ignore the slight dampness you feel forming between your legs. 

“Then, god, I thought I was going crazy when you were feeding me those blood packs. That I had wanted the taste of you so badly that I was imagining it somehow from knowing the way you smell.” 

He continues. “I know I told you that I have control, but fuck, baby, you almost destroyed me with that little stunt of yours.” 

Jungkook shifts, and you can feel his hardening length brush against your stomach. His thigh butts up against you, and you know he can feel the effect he’s having on you. 

“How?” you ask weakly, and Jungkook flexes his thigh underneath you, putting a little pressure right onto your clit. The whine you’ve been suppressing escapes, needy and rich. 

��I almost caved. One night while you were sleeping, Thought about waking you up by fucking you with my tongue so I could finally taste you again.” Jungkook’s cock twitches underneath you and you rut against him in response, the heat in your core building. “Shit, you were even sleeping with your legs wide open for me, your panties and those tiny fucking things you call pajamas shifted and your pretty little pussy was right there for me to taste. Practically begging me for it.” 

You rock against Jungkook’s thigh, the broad grind of your wet panties against Jungkook’s thigh releasing some of the tension. 

“Oh,” you moan softly, but Jungkook isn’t done talking, and he ignores you as his hands come up to your ass, his cold touch on your cheeks causing you to squeak as he pulls them apart to force you to rut harder, deeper onto him. 

“I can smell you right now,” he says roughly. “You can’t hide it from me, you know. Your blood, your wet pussy, they’re equally delicious to me. Equally mine.” 

You moan as he forces you back and forth on his thigh. “You like that, don’t you? The idea of me devouring you like that? Waking you up with my mouth swirling around that hard clit, have you drooling and begging for my cock before you even know what day it is?”

“Shit, yes. Yes,” you pant, and Jungkook laughs, grasping your panties with his fingers and pulling tight. The fabric shifts, digging onto your swollen clit, blurring your vision from the sharp, deep wail.

“Such a dirty fucking girl, humping me like this. Letting me use you like this. What happened to my good girl, hm? Where’d my baby go?” 

You know the question is rhetorical, but you find yourself entering the familiar, delicious haze you often go to with Jungkook, one that has been trained to answer every question he asks. 

“Still your baby,” you whine, and Jungkook laughs. 

He reaches down, tearing your panties off of your body with a single tug, exposing your wet pussy to the chill of the air.

“Oh really? You’re my baby? I don’t know about that. My baby usually has her mouth around my cock by now.” 

Obediently, sit up, tugging your shirt over your head, your nipples hard and sensitive from your arousal. Jungkook groans as he takes in the view of your naked body, but before he can act, you hastily strip him of his hoodie and shorts to reveal his naked length. 

Jungkook’s cock stands tall and heavy, and as you take it into your hands, you don’t mention how that, too, has become incredibly cold from his thirst. Maybe this hunger could be soothing in summer, but in midwinter, it is going to drive you insane. 

You pull him into your mouth, determined to imprint some of your body heat onto him as you dribble your warm saliva down his shaft with a deep suck. 

Jungkook moans above you, tangling his fingers into your hair in approval. 

“Fuck, yes, Y/N. God.” 

You use one of your hands to cup his balls, enjoying the heft of how full they are before stroking up and down the parts of his cock that you can’t take into your mouth. 

“There she is,” Jungkook sighs, and you relax your jaw so you can take more of him in, edging his tip down your throat. He bucks up, and you gag, feeling the familiar tang of him spread across your tongue. Globs of saliva bubble out of your mouth as you attempt to fight the urge to gag more from his occasional thrusts. 

“There’s my baby. My little cockslut. Fuck, I missed this.” You hum in agreement and Jungkook gasps at the vibration. He grabs your head, stopping you from bobbing. 

“Shit…fuck baby, hold on. Stop. God, I almost just came,” he laughs, and your lips twitch as you slowly pull away from him, strings of spit still connecting you to his thick cock. 

You look up at him as he steadies himself, smiling up at him devilishly.

Feeling naughty, you lean forward, testing the waters as you tongue around the head, taking one final, deep suck. Jungkook’s eyes darken in warning and you giggle, sitting back on your heels as you smile at him with fake innocence. 

“Brat,” he mutters, and shoves you down onto the bed, his lips on yours before you can even breathe, tasting himself in the corners of your mouth with feral need. 

He pulls away, tapping your knees with instruction to open, and you do, propping your head up on a pillow so you can see everything. 

The curve of his nose rocks against your clitoris as he begins, and because Jungkook knows you so well, his hands clamp down on your legs to prevent you from squirming. You feel him dig one hand into your thigh, a warning not to try to take control, and you force yourself to relax as he begins exploring you, sucking one of your swollen labia into his mouth. 

You groan, the slow method of him licking and sucking, moving down and up between the inner corners of your thighs back to your center feels both like heaven and absolute hell. 

You have the urge to whine, to shove your hips up, maybe your neglected clit will get more attention, but you know better. Jungkook is testing you, trusting you in this moment not to fail him. 

His eyes meet yours as feasts, the bruises under his eyes more dark now than they were earlier. Between the maddening, erotic swishes of his tongue against your clitoral hood and smug look on his face, you’ve had just about enough.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to play with your food,” you snap, and surprised, Jungkook pulls back, his wet cheeks and wide smirk indicating how satisfied he is with his torture.

“No,” he says, licking his lips. His fangs peek out from under his lips. “But I think my food really likes it when she has to work for it.” 

You roll your eyes, and he brings his fingers to your clit, pinching it. You gasp.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He scolds, and again you lose the urge to disobey. 

You feign an apologetic look and buck your hips at him.

“Such a fucking bad girl today,” he chides. “If you’re not careful, I won’t let you cum. I’ll just use you like my little cumdump and you’ll have to figure out how to get off on your own.” 

You shudder at his words and his shoulders straighten, satisfied with his apparent win. 

“What do you say?” he asks, tracing one finger along your ridges. 

You feel yourself trembling as his soft touch swirls around where you need it most, a frustrating, dizzy fury building in you.

“Jungkook, please.” 

“That’s not the word I’m looking for.” His voice is dark, heavy in the cold of the room. Desperation is blinding you, only allowing you to think in fragmented sentences. 

“I don’t know,” you whine, and you feel a hard slap hit directly onto your clit, sending a shock of pain and delicious pleasure through your body. 

“Liar,” he snorts, and then rubs your wetness to soothe the ache. “You have a big girl brain, Y/N. I know you know what you need to say.” He dips a finger inside of you, you clench. “Or are you already too fucked out and needy to say it?” 

Heat shades your face in embarrassment. Any other day, maybe, you’d challenge this, let him chip away at you until you are babbling and a mess underneath him. But the swell of heat in your core is pulsing what feels like everywhere in your body, including your head, and you rack your brain for the one word you know he’s looking for. 

You pull a sharp breath between your teeth. “I’m sorry.”  

“Good girl, I knew you could do it,” he says, and then he shoves his face into your cunt, more fingers dipping into your entrance. He begins to stretch you, pulling his fingers apart, urging more of your wetness to spill onto his tongue. “So sweet.” 

Your hips twitch in the air and you fight to keep them down now that one side of you is freed, so you concentrate on him, pushing his hair back from his forehead as he devours you. 

Jungkook’s eyes are so dark, pupils blown wide. And in them you see something more than just lust. 

I’m thirsty, he’s telling you, the lines faint, but still there. He sucks hard onto your clit, a low sound tearing through his throat. 

He’s asking you for permission, grazing his fangs along your inner lips, trying desperately to restrain himself as the hand still wrapped around your thigh tightens with a bruise-inducing pressure. 

Then eat, tell him mentally, your tongue darting out of your mouth to lip your lips as you watch him get lost in his instincts. You hum your approval, thrusting your hips forward and shoving his head further into you. 

“Yes,” you rasp, finding enough air in your lungs to puff out your consent. 

Jungkook moans and you watch the resolve break as he delivers one final satisfying lap over your clit before he bites.

Nothing In your life could ever prepare you for this.

That part of you, the very organ having the most nerve endings, is alive and electric, burning hot as if you are the sun, the center of the universe. And Jungkook is orbiting around you, grounded by the gravity of your blood as he feeds from your pussy, groaning and bucking his hips in pleasure against the bed. A whimper churns from the depths of your throat as you writhe under him. The heat, god it’s everywhere, from the slight sting of the bite melting away from your core to the heady, steady throb of your clit that makes you feel your pulse everywhere. 

Jungkook too, is warming underneath you, the chill of his body flushing away with each feverish gulp he takes. His cheeks are slightly pink again.

“So wet, so good,” he praises you as he swallows, and you see the blood smearing across his cheeks as he dips back into you. 

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you say shakily. His tattooed hand leaves your thigh, reaches up, searching for you in his feast. You don’t hesitate to lace it with yours, your hands a little clammy, but you’re afraid that if you don’t hold on to him, you might be lost among the stars. 

He drags one of his fangs along the edge of your clitoral hood, and flicks your swollen bud with his tongue, self assured in your destruction. Your legs begin to close, but he growls. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he warns. His fingers press deeper inside you, thrusting toward the burning in your core that feels like it’s just out of reach. “You asked for this, now take it.”

“I can’t,” you say. “I can’t.” You thrash your head to the side, gaze unfocused as you take in the shapes around your bedroom you know once were pieces of furniture, but the combination of blood loss and building ecstasy has you feeling like you’re almost drifting from your body. 

Jungkook clicks his tongue in dissatisfaction. “Look at me, Y/N,” he demands. 

You force your eyes to him, and he instructs you to take a deep breath. You inhale shakily, letting him come into focus. 

“You’re going to take my tongue. And then you’re going to take my fingers until you cum all over my face.” He makes his threat official, presses deep inside of you, thrusting deeper, toward the burning in your core that feels just out of reach. “And then you’re going to take my fat cock into my pretty little pussy and watch the cum drip out of it after I fuck you full of it, do you understand me?” 

You tremble as he claims you. “Yes,” you reply and he leans in closer, thrusting his fingers in harder as you rock your hips toward him. 

“Good,” he says. “Then give me what’s mine.” You feel him nip into you again, throwing you over with one deep suck.

You cry out, your hips twitching into the cold room, heaving deep broken gasps into your lungs, head spinning as you obey him. Your ears ring as you fall deeper under the wave, but you still feel Jungkook’s hand in yours, tender and encouraging as you force yourself back from beneath the current of your orgasm. 

You try to steady your breath as you feel his drinking slow, his tongue placing a few laps here and there around your vulva in a gentle motion as he pulls himself away. 

“Are you okay,” you hear him ask, though your eyes are trained on the ceiling as you try to stop yourself from seeing double. “Did I take too much?”

You’re not sure, to be honest, but you feel the warmth of Jungkook’s body cover you as he looks you over, feeling your pulse. 

“Your heart is starting to slow down,” he says softly. “Can I leave you for a second to get some water?” 

You make some kind of grunt of approval, and you feel him drape your covers back over you as he pads down the hall to sift through the kitchen. 

He returns only a few moments later, a bottle of water and bag of heart shaped chocolates in hand. 

You take the water from him and sip slowly, feeling the cool liquid soothing your hoarse throat, stabilizing you. You pop a chocolate into your mouth, the sugars melting your tongue tasting decadent. 

When you finally glance over at Jungkook, you erupt into laughter. 

“What?” he asks, his doe eyes going wide with panic. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” 

You fail to collect yourself, wheezing your breaths as tears burn your eyes. Maybe you did lose a bit too much blood, because it shouldn’t be as funny as it is, but he looks so full and flushed and innocent in light of what might just be the kinkiest thing the two of you have ever done. 

His face is an utter mess, cheeks shiny and smeared with the faint pink of your mixed juices and blood. He looks like a child who just ate a cherry flavored popsicle.

“I-go look in the mirror,” you say between fits of laughter, and Jungkook looks at you confused before he obeys, standing and walking over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. 

“Oh shit,” he mumbles, then laughs. “Looks like I was saving myself a snack for later.” He reaches for a tissue from on top of his dresser and wipes his mouth. 

“How can you not feel that all over you?” you ask, coughing when you finally recover. 

“I don’t know! My brain isn’t focused on anything else right now but you! Well, you and…” he gestures down between his legs, where his cock is flushed from the blood, twitching as you give it attention. 

You feel a flutter in your core and let out a soft gasp.

“But really, are you okay?” he asks tenderly, sitting back onto the bed and rubbing your thigh. 

You scan over your body, checking in with yourself. You don’t feel woozy or nauseous, just loose, like how most large scale orgasms feel. Your thigh you know will be bruised tomorrow, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. And your clit, oh. 

Your clit is tingling, and your pussy is dripping wet. 

“Fuck,” you moan, and run your hand down between your legs and press your palm to your clit, enjoying the added pressure as it throbs under your touch. 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, interested in your response.

You swipe your fingers through your folds and then pull them up. Surprisingly, the liquid is clear, meaning you’re not bleeding. Meaning that this dripping want is coming solely from you. 

“What did you do to me?” You ask, and Jungkook’s eyes flash with worry as he moves closer, pulling your thighs open to inspect you. 

“I hurt you?” he asks, panicking as he misunderstands. “God, I’m sorry Y/N.”

“No, no, baby, not like that,” you say, and you feel his hands fall from you as he moves to look at your face. 

He scrunches his nose in confusion. “Then what–.”

“My pussy is tingling, and fuck look at me. I’m drenched.”

His eyes blow wide and he dips to look back down, his tongue darting out over his lip piercings as he takes in the liquid spilling out of you and onto the sheets underneath. 

“Shit. I don’t know. Maybe my venom does that? I don’t even see a cut on you from where I bit.”

He sits back on his legs and his hand finds his cock, squeezing the base as he flits between looking at you and in between your legs. 

You clench around nothing and a low, tortured moan escapes from his throat as he draws his hand up the base, wrist flicking to pump himself up and down in slow, delicious tugs.

“Y/N,” he says, and the way he says your name is dripping with need. You feel his eyes burn into every inch of you as he touches himself, causing you to mimic the fluidity of his strokes as you rub your clit. 

“Please,” you respond. 

“Cum for me again,” he demands but you shake your head. 

“Don’t want to like this,” you say. “Want your cock in me. You promised you would let me watch your cum spill out of your pretty pussy, remember?”

His nostrils flare, and Jungkook jolts, flipping you over on the bed so you rest on top of him, his hard cock smearing with your wetness as he rocks your hips against him. 

“We need to do something about that filthy mouth of yours,” he says, and you pant as you grind against him with broad movements, coating him with your juices. “The only time you haven’t said something bratty today was when my cock was down your throat.”

You moan, raising your hips off of his and taking his cock in hand. “You love it,” you say, and sink yourself down onto his cock in one solid motion, his thick length stretching and filling you to the brim. 

He hisses and you begin to bounce, using him to curb some of the ache in your core. 

He reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing. You squeak, feeling him pull you off of his cock, and leaving you devastatingly empty. 

“Did I say you could fuck me?”

You whine and he scoffs. “Maybe you don’t deserve my cum after all. Disobeying me like this. I told you earlier I wondered where my good girl went, and I think I was right. Didn’t know I traded her in for a disrespectful bitch.”

You feel your stomach flip with excitement at the new term and you clench around him. 

He laughs. “Oh? You like that, hmm? Well, if I traded away my good girl, I better see how much of a whore her replacement is.” 

He lightens his grip on your neck and the oxygen floods back, making your fingertips and nipples prickle with the heightened sensation. 

“Well? Get to it, slut.” and he takes your hips, slamming you back down onto his cock with one single stroke. 

“FUCK,” you scream, and your hips buck, overstimulated as Jungkook doesn’t even give you the chance to have control, his hands clamping down on your sides as his fucks you onto him. 

“That’s it,” he rasps. “That’s it, take my cock like a good little slut.” 

You cry out, clamping your arms around him and pulling his face into your neck. 

“Jungkook,” you say, and he grunts in response, pounding into you with a rhythm so that when you come down, he pushes up, hitting you deeper with each thrust. 

“You like that, huh? Being like little fleshlight? Me using you like this to fuck all my cum into?”

You clench around him, slightly light headed from where he’s targeting you, trying to hit your g-spot dead on. 

It’s so good, so primal, and you know you’re almost there, but you need something more. 

“Please,” you whisper, shoving his head into your neck. “Bite me.” 

And that’s when you feel it, the tiny prick of his fangs as Jungkook pierces your skin and begins to feed. 

Sharp cold pleasure is immediately replaced with a silky, scorching wave of pleasure as his venom delivers that addicting tingle through your neck.

Jungkook, too, seems to be affected, his cock twitches in you as the blood fills his body, somehow making him feel thicker and a little longer. 

“Oh,” you gasp as you feel the fingers of one of Jungkook’s hands reach down to your clit, rubbing it hard and fast. 

He detaches himself from your neck and laps up the excess blood before he holds you steady and adjusts your position, placing you on your back as he hovers above you. 

The cloudiness in his eyes is gone, the markings underneath have faded. He settles into slow, deep strokes, his eyes ghosting over your body. 

“I love you,” he says. Your heart swells. 

“I love you too,” you respond, and you look down at where the two of you are connected, your pussy making a vulgar squelching sound as he drags himself in and out, his cockhead glossy.

“More,” you beg. “Please I’m so close”. He obeys, picks up his pace. 

He bends over you, pulling a nipple into his mouth and releasing it with a pop. 

“Should I bite you here next?” he mumbles and you squirm in delight.

Each thrust is now jutting Jungkook right against your cervix, and you feel the wet mess of your pussy trying and failing to take more of his cock inside, relishing the warmth that now reaches every corner of you. 

As you flutter around him, the mounting tension drawing you closer to orgasm, Jungkook dips down again, this time laving over your nipple, plucking it between his teeth and delivering a soft bite.

This sends you over the edge, a stream of white hot pleasure rocketing through your core as you gasp on top of him, your pussy clamping down and trying desperately to take him with you. 

But Jungkook has better control than that, and instead of letting you rest, he sets a deadly, relentless pace, fucking you into overstimulation. 

“One more,” he breathes between thrusts.

“Hurts,” you pout, but he knows you. Knows your limit.

“One more. I know your messy little cunt can take more than this, baby.”

He spreads you wider, hooking your legs back so he's deeper in you than before, the wet slap of his balls against your pussy echoing through your bedroom as you are coated with your wetness. 

You groan and he keeps going, his fingers ghosting over your clit once but not staying. You huff in frustration. 

“Words,” Jungkook demands and you take a deep breath, trying to rack your brain for something other than moans. 

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, and with a dark laugh, he accepts it, placing his fingers back on your clit and finally, finally putting you back on track. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he utters, and this is how you know he’s getting close. The praise flowing from his mouth betrays his cold, dominating facade. “Such a warm, wet pussy. Just for me to fuck my cum into.” He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on his lip rings.

You moan, matching his thrusts with your hips, slamming yourself together harder, deeper. “God, Jungkook, please.”

“You gonna be good for me this time?” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows. The tone of his voice is slightly higher, straining. “Gonna let me fill you up?”

“Yes,” you pant. “I need it.” His fingers circle faster, desperately working to make you cum before him. “Need to be full of your cum.”

You pull him into you, needing him closer, needing to feel the distance between your bodies to be smaller as you get closer. His fingers keep working, his thrusts hard and deep, hitting you exactly where you need it. 

“Right there. Fuck your pussy, Jungkook. Take what’s yours.”

His hips falter. You place your teeth onto his neck and bite. Hard.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans and erupts, his cock twitching as he spurts load after load of warm cum into you, giving you the last bit you need to send you off one last time. Your pussy spasms, greedily taking in everything he gives you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he says, his voice shaky as he continues to anchor both of you to your bodies, to the sensation of being full and satisfied.

He kisses your temple, then your cheek, rocking his hips slowly against you as you come down, flushed and overwhelmed. 

You feel almost weightless, untethered to the joints in your arms and legs. If you weren’t being held by him right now, you might think you were out in space, floating around without gravity. In the haze of it all, you feel Jungkook shift you onto your side, his body still linked to yours as his erection deflates, cum leaking onto the bedding below you. 

You don’t care enough to do anything about it, instead clinging to his forearm, needing to feel him everywhere so you don’t disappear. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” he says, and you’re confused by this, and then you realize you’re crying, wet tears stinging your cheeks as you shake against him. He runs his hands through your hair and down the length of your back softly. “I got you.”

You breathe a shaky breath as he wraps the blankets around the two of you, gently humming a song, sighing when he feels you wiggle your toes next to him and finally steady yourself. 

You look up at him and he’s smiling softly, his eyes warm and brown like they were when you first met him. 

“That was intense, huh?” he asks and you nod. 

“But really good,” you add and he beams. 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I…”

He sits thoughtfully for a moment and you let him, trying to gain the courage to detach yourself and venture into the cold apartment to pee. 

“I wish we did that sooner. I mean, I guess I should ask how that was for you. For me to, you know, feed from you.”

You wince as you shift away from him, feeling him slip out of you as you leak onto the sheets. Your sticky, damp legs beg for a shower, but you ignore it. 

“I…it was a lot. But…but I liked it. The first bite, shit. You explained earlier how it felt when you first tasted my blood? About it being like how everything fired off in your body at once, right?” He nods. “It was like that for me, too.”

Jungkook smiles, pulling you in tightly against him.  

“Do you think we can do that more often?” you ask shyly, and he laughs. 

“Damn, once is all it takes for you to get addicted?”

You smack his arm. “Hey! No kink shaming! I didn’t judge you for wanting to go down on me during my period! While I was asleep!” 

He sputters. “I’m not kink shaming! But you sound like you’re judging me now for it! We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to I’m sorry but I was caught up in the moment and the bloodlust and I was–”

You choke out a laugh, kissing him on his bare chest. “I’m teasing you...it sounds kind of hot actually.” 

He hums in approval. 

“I think we still have a lot of stuff to talk about,” he says after a pause. You sigh. 

“Yeah. The great job reckoning is coming.” 

“Yes, and not just that. I do want to talk more about you…your body. The…infertility thing. I want to go with you to the appointment, I mean if that’s okay? Even if everything is fine, or that you don’t end up wanting kids or whatever, I just want to be there for you through any of it, okay?”

You bristle a bit, feeling yourself starting to cry again. But after the day you’ve had, the intense, passionate sex, all of the things you will still be dealing with in the morning, you let the release guide you as your tears fall. 

“Okay,” you say. You think about your conversations with Jungkook today, how he’s right. There are so many things you both don’t know about what you want or don’t want, about your own bodies. 

“Um,” you say, and you pull back from him, rubbing up and down his forearms. “I want you to know something, too. I know that being a vampire wasn’t really in your life plans, and that there’s a lot of unknowns about it too. Not just about fertility, but like, it would have probably been nice for you to know you had magical tingly, healing venom that turns you into a sex god.”

“Hey! Was I not a sex god without the venom?” He scoffs, pretending to be offended. 

You snort. “Okay fine, healing venom that turns you from a sex god to even more of a sex god. But you know what I mean. There are things that would be so helpful for you to know. To maybe take away some of the worry and those terrifying unknowns. And if you ever want to know, if you want to try to find your creator, I’ll support you in that choice. It would be hard, and maybe we wouldn’t find him, but I’m with you in this.” 

Jungkook takes your cheek in his hand, his warm thumb rubbing across the skin. 

“Thank you,” he says, and leans in to give you a soft kiss. 

The world outside plunges deeper into the night, and after you clean yourselves up and change the sheets, you lie closely against each other. So many things remain unknown, but one thing you’re sure of as you watch Jungkook sleep: you have time to figure it all out. 

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

ending a/n:

Thank you again for reading! While doing research about blood donations for this story, I was reminded that there’s currently a national shortage for blood donors in the US, and it’s safe to assume that this isn’t unique to just us. Right now, with the ongoing genocide in Gaza, blood shortages are extreme, and with the stonewalling happening preventing aid to enter the strip and Rafah, supplies, including blood for life saving transfusions, cannot make it through. 

The Red Crescent/American Red Cross issued this statement in January:

“​​During emergencies, the American Red Cross will ship blood products outside of the U.S. following a specific request from the U. S. State Department for U.S. citizens overseas, at the request of the United Nations, or at the request of the affected Red Cross or Red Crescent society abroad. We have not received blood product requests for Israel or Gaza at this time.

For those interested in learning more about international humanitarian law and its vital role in protecting the innocent during armed conflict, please visit www.redcross.org/ihl. The American Red Cross has a duty to fulfill the Geneva Conventions’ purpose of reducing suffering during armed conflict. As part of our duty, the American Red Cross leads the effort to ensure Americans are informed of these laws and the humanitarian principles they reflect.”

While it’s not yet being asked for, I cannot recommend enough donating blood if you are eligible. There are many different qualifications for blood donations (if you’re not sure about your eligibility, please look at your Red Cross/Crescent website depending on your country). Your donation can help not just your local communities, but ultimately a population of people you might be unsure how to help. And if not, monetary donations are also accepted.

I’m not affiliated with this organization in any way, but I felt like it would be wrong to ignore this issue just in favor of a fun fanfic. 

[prince-kallisto]

Diasomnia’s and Pomefiore’s Peacock Imagery (& the ties to Meleanor)

When looking at Diasomnia’s Halloween costume- “the ghost of a long,” I was confused for a while about the peacock feather. But the Halloween events in particular have shown generous amounts of foreshadowing, especially with Diasomnia. If Levan, Malleus’ father, does indeed have some relation to the long (his title being Ryūgan Duke Levan, which may translate to Long-Eyed Duke Levan), then this Halloween costume that Malleus chose himself certainly has its significance.

Anyway, about the peacock feather, in Twisted Wonderland this is usually associated with the Fairest Queen and Pomefiore- undoubtedly because of the Peacock Throne. In Snow White, it’s said that the Evil Queen had a Peacock Throne that represented her extreme vanity. Peacocks have long since been symbols of beauty, elegance, power, royalty- but sometimes also correlated to pride to a sinful degree.

But after poking around a bit with some research, I discovered that the long was often paired the fenghuang, a mythical bird in Chinese mythology, and these two paired together would symbolize marital harmony and everlasting love between husband and wife. The fenghuang in modern times became a feminine entity tied with the empress, and the long a masculine entity tied to the emperor. These creatures were opposites yet harmonious, like the yin and yang respectively.

Much like the long, the fenghuang was said to made up of the parts of various animals- and in more recent mythos, the fenghuang is commonly depicted with the tail of a peacock.

So…I wonder if Malleus unintentionally chose a Halloween costume that represented both of his parents, and symbols of their harmonious marriage. Dragon eggs do require genuine, parental love to hatch, which Meleanor and Levan would’ve undoubtedly gave if fate treated them more kindly. We don’t know much about Levan, but he was described as kind, a scholar, a diplomat, someone who desired peace and unity between humans and Fae. Most of these descriptions are from Lilia, and these are a stark contrast to how he describes Meleanor.

Edit: I mentioned this in a reblog, but Levan potentially being a bird Fae yet tied to a dragon-like figure, and Meleanor being a literal dragon yet tied to the fenghuang and peacock…it’s another case of them being harmonious opposites

I also feel like there is something mysterious tying Pomefiore and Diasomnia specifically. Ray has an incredibly big brain thread about Diasomnia’s and Pomefiore’s connections- please check it out 👀 But I wonder if the symbolism of the peacock and the mixture of pride and nobility is trying to say something more. The peacock imagery is usually tied to Vil, as his spell book is beautifully decorated with peacock imagery, and his recent card seems to have golden claws/or embellishments on his gloves that resemble peacock feathers. His Overblot form has SEVERAL ties to it. The ends of his cape resemble black peacock feathers, and so do his boots and crown.

Interestingly enough, his Overblot form heavily resembles the Virgin Mary. If you’re curious about this resemblance to not only the Virgin Mary but also Meleanor, check out this older theory post of mine as well ^_^ Rook also gets a peacock feather in his hat for his New Years outfit, but the peacock imagery definitely seems more tied to Vil 🤔

Additionally, in a split second shot in the opening, Crowley is seen sitting in what seems to be a Peacock Throne. The throne in Pomefiore is a direct reference to the Evil Queen’s throne, but what’s interesting about Crowley’s throne is that the gemstones are purple, not blue. Either this is lighting being unusually strong, or this is a different chair entirely. It may be his office chair, but unfortunately we haven’t gotten a good look at it yet. Even Crowley’s new furniture in the JP version doesn’t show enough details for his office throne.

I mentioned this briefly in the Virgin Mary theory, but I feel as though that Vil is the closest representation of who Meleanor was. I think this line in his dorm uniform vignette is most striking, as he is like “the Queen reborn, with two striking knights at your side.” The thing is, the Evil Queen didn’t HAVE any knights. Her closest companions were the raven and the hunter. But neither of them were exactly knights, and she thought very little of them in the film. Rook’s chat’s say that the hunter carried out all her orders- although he made many blunders, and said that the raven was more of a pet (contrast to Malleus who says Diablo was a fellow companion who fought alongside Maleficent). But Meleanor DID have “two striking knights” at her side, through the form of Levan and Lilia, her left and right generals.

Additionally, in Book 5, Vil mentions beauty being a power that’s more overwhelming that violence, and can bring people to their knees. And his voicelines show his belief that roses have thorns is part of their charm. I just can’t help but think of the scene in Book 7, where Meleanor literally brings Yuu and crew down to their knees with her magic, thinking them unworthy of even looking at her in the eye. (Credits to Otome Ayui for translation🐦‍⬛)

And Vil’s voicelines show his belief that roses having thorns is part of the charm, and that he interestingly correlates birthdays with the aurora. Meleanor’s castle is called Wild Rose Castle, and ended up covering the castle with her thorns. Additionally, both the aurora and the rose is heavily tied to Sleeping Beauty, with Princess Aurora, and her “peasant” name being Briar Rose. The gift of her beauty even said her lips were as red as the rose. And, well, there’s the whole storyline about Aurora’s sixteenth birthday overall -v-

As I mentioned earlier, I think Vil and Pomefiore represent Meleanor more as the Fae she was- her “tenacity,” as you could put it, being the spirit of Pomefiore. Diasomnia seems to connect to the idea of nobility and the guards/knights that protect the Queen. Even Pomefiore’s imagery, of the peacock, the sword impaling the heart…it feels very representative of what happened to Meleanor. Perhaps the connection between these two dorms makes up the full image of Meleanor (I’m not sure how to describe what I’m saying NSJXJD)? The guards to the Queen, the nobility and dragon Fae of Diasomnia, with the pride, tenacity, and beauty of Pomefiore.

Edit: I somehow forgot about the fenghuang and long symbolism here. Pomefiore’s symbol is the peacock, and Diasomnia’s is the dragon. It really feels as though there’s a connection between them 😭🙏

And back to what a peacock symbolizes, in Chinese culture the peacock is tied to auspicious happiness and prosperity, and serves as a symbol of beauty, nobility, power, and divinity. The feathers could even be talisman to ward of evil spirits. The Fenghuang was also believed to disappear during times of chaos and despair, and would only appear when there was world peace.

In English, the Fenghuang is translated as the “Chinese Phoenix,” although I’ve read that the similarities are superficial. The Phoenix being well known for bursting into flames and being reborn from its own ashes could potentially have significance though- but this trait is not seen in Chinese mythos. Additionally, Christianity associates the peacock with purity and the resurrection of Jesus, so peacock imagery can be seen at burials/tombs.

What fascinates me about this idea of purity and nobility is the surrounding conflicting views of who Meleanor was. The Senate practically turned her into some angelic, fairytale figure (Lian elaborates so beautifully in her post here 🫶) who is dignified and noble. The Senate idolized her to the point that Lilia was too filthy to ever stand beside her- who was a noble dragon. The Silver Owls saw her as a monster, a vain witch to be defeated. Lilia saw her as a spoiled and overly prideful princess, but also cared for her deeply as a person and not just someone to be idolized. He grew up with her, after all, and has been subjected to her antics and mischief for many years. (Translation credits to Otome Ayui 🐦‍⬛)

I think the connections here could heavily tie to other popular theories, like Meleanor being in the Dark Mirror or will be “resurrected” in some way. And you all know me- I think Crowley’s fixation on Pomefiore and the Evil Queen may also be representative of something (*´∀｀*) No matter the theories regarding Crowley, I do think it’s significant that he’s sitting in some peacock throne in the opening. With all these connections to nobility, I wonder if it means Crowley taking on the symbolic or literal position of royalty or power (*'▽'*) He is technically the highest authority so far at NRC, but I just can’t help but feel there’s more significance than meets the eye 🐦‍⬛

[blues824]

Hi there! I hope you don't mind if you have time to write my request about Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian with nb! or fem! reader as malleus?

What’s up, Anon? I put reader as having horns, but no other description is used.

Ciel Phantomhive

Her Royal Majesty had requested that he host you in the Phantomhive house. He didn’t want to let the Queen down, so he had his staff prepare for your arrival. By ‘his staff’, I mean Sebastian because there is no way that Mey-Rin, Bard, and Finny would be able to accomplish the tasks given to them.

Then you arrived. The most noticeable thing about you was your horns, but Ciel was not intimidated. He had a demon for a butler, after all. He showed you to the room where you would be staying, and you had a surprisingly friendly and polite demeanor. He left you to go get settled in, and went straight to his renowned butler to ask about you and your background.

The things he learned about you were pretty shocking, like how you were a dragon fae from a land called ‘Twisted Wonderland’. It sounded like something he would read about in a novel, not see in real-life. He wanted to get to know you personally, though, so he went to your room and invited you to a game of chess in his study.

Imagine his surprise when you managed to beat him at a board game that he thought he was invincible at. Your cunning mind really intrigued him, so he proposed that he take you around London as your prize. You agreed, and were very excited to see the city that you hadn’t had much of a chance to explore yet. You asked if there were any abandoned buildings or gargoyles, and he said there might be a few.

The excitement on your face as he led you around the streets of the city made him want you to stay so that he could continue bringing wonder to you. The look of happiness on your face when he brought you to an ice cream vendor to try some of the cold treat was one that he wished he could see forever.

Sebastian Michaelis

The young master had informed him that you would be staying at the Phantomhive Manor and he received orders to get the Manor ready. Sebastian, being Sebastian, wanted to make sure that everything was in pristine condition because there was no way that a member of a far away royal family would be housed in anything less than perfection, so he told each of the staff members to not touch anything.

When you arrived, he was standing right beside Ciel and greeted you by bowing and welcoming you to the Manor. Ciel told him to get your things to your room as he showed you around, and that’s when Sebastian noticed your horns. He knew that you weren’t a demon, as a demon typically doesn’t show any horns, so you must have been some other creature.

Well, as he finally led you to where you would be staying, he asked what sort of being you were. You really didn’t want to tell him, but you could feel the magic within him. He was sort of like you, so you felt as though he wouldn’t be scared of you. You told him that you were a dragon fae from a realm called Twisted Wonderland, and that you were the Crowned Heir to one of the many lands within said realm, Briar Valley. It was all very intriguing to the demon butler, as he had never been.

During your stay, it was rather unfortunate that he had so many chores to do when you wanted to talk to him. So, you offered to help him. He at first refused, saying that it would be very improper for a member of visiting royalty to do chores, but you told him that it would give you a normal person’s experience, something necessary for when you are crowned the reigning monarch. He smiled at the loophole, before handing you the rag that he was using to dust the library.

It allowed you both to get to know each other, but he never revealed what he was. You just knew that he wasn’t a human, and that no harm would come to you in his presence; not just because you are the most powerful mage in this world, but also because you are under the protection of Queen Victoria, who already sees you as another one of her children.

[sehtoast]

Soothe Me (Homelander x Reader Powerswap!au)

18+ | gender neutral reader, light descriptions of gore, showering, he takes care of you | Fic Directory

He’d never admit it, but there’s a part of him that really likes when you come home like this.  Something sick and twisted in his core, something rotten that quivers with excitement every time you walk through the door covered in viscera.

Maybe it’s because of the way his life is.  He’s just some average, ordinary guy shackled by the restraints of a regular human life.  Wake up, take Ryan to school, go to work, pick his son up, eat dinner, sleep, and then repeat until he’s dead.  It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate his simple life or that beloved son of his who he was so fucking proud of,  but the mundane…

He’d be a liar if he said he never wished he was special.

You make him feel that way though. When you show up at his apartment drenched in gore, he feels so very special.  He feels like the keeper of an especially violent creature that would maim anyone and anything but him.  Something that, despite its sharp fangs and jagged claws, would only ever touch him with tenderness– with softness.

Even at times when your hand has gone around his throat, he’s always known you would never.

So when you show up like that again, is it any wonder that John practically bounces out of bed to greet you?  Hands at your cheeks to thumb away chunks of whatever moron pressed their luck, fingers combing through your blood-slicked hair, a kiss pressed to a dried patch because he is only human and doesn’t quite want some stranger’s bodily fluids in his mouth.

He’s started wearing darker shirts because of you.  It’s hard to explain to a child why there’s a red handprint that won’t wash out of his clothes, but it’s much less obvious this way.  Your leather clad hands fall to his waist immediately and your grip flexes the tiniest bit to steady yourself.

You can feel his warmth.  You can smell him more than the reek of iron and intestinal gunk splattered all over your body.  He smells of… cooked chicken. Some kind of cheap cheese.  A bitter salad dressing.  The lingerings of milk on his breath.  He must have just finished having dinner with his son.

You shut your eyes and focus.  You can hear the boy in his room. Legos clattering, narrations of dialog.  He still doesn’t know about you.  John doesn’t know how to tell him in a way that’s not overwhelming.

You breathe a deep sigh as he frets over you.  It’s the same every time. He’s scared you’re hurt, inspecting you as he brings you to the bathroom.  You’re only half aware of what’s going on.  The running of the shower, the hands tugging at your suit, his clothes hitting the floor. 

You’ve had a terrible day and it’s all you can think of…

Somehow, though, he draws you away from all of that.  Walks you into the shower and under the stream.  He adjusts the temperature the moment he sees you flinch at the heat.

You still haven’t told him about all of… that.  Your life before being Homelander.  When you were a mere lab rat, a product in development, poked and prodded and tortured to see what made you tick– what could make you sell .  He knows a little, but… you don’t quite have it in you to see him look at you with pity.

The hands that touch you in that cramped shower take you away from everything.  You’re here, not there. You’re not fist deep in that stupid fucking assistant who found you arguing with your other half in the mirror.  What’s left of that fool swirls down the drain.  You’re not getting berated by Edgar or dragged into some stupid fucking publicity stunt. Ashley isn’t up your ass about your itinerary.  You’re here.

He’s here.

Lips press to yours, gentle and sweet, and he whispers to you.

“S’okay.  You’re home now.”

Home.   It was such an odd concept.  You’ve had many homes.  Each of the cells in the lab, the penthouse, your cabin.

None of those have ever felt like home.  Here, though..?  You imagine it must be as close as you’ll ever truly have to a home.

You press him to the wall, his wrists trapped in your hands as you nuzzle into his neck.  His pulse rings in your ears. It pulsates louder than the stream of the shower and his breaths that grow with anticipation and a touch of excitement.

You know he enjoys it.  You meant to turn this into some kind of a hug, but… all you can do is just stay like that.  Hidden against him, lost in the symphony of all that keeps him alive.

“Long day, sweetheart?” His breath gusts over the tip of your ear.  

You release his wrists and wrap your arms around him, drifting away.  You answer him in a nod and he hugs you closer.  He has to be the one to do the squeezing.  If you did it, you’d shatter him.

“Let me take care of you?”  He asks for permission first.  He knows you love his doting, the way he spoils you rotten, but sometimes…  

Sometimes you’re not able to accept it.  Like a stray dog, wounded and afraid, your mistrust and fear comes out on him.  He has a small understanding of why you bite.  Of how many hands have hurt you, how many times you’ve had this very thing promised to you only for it to be a carrot on a stick with which you’d be beaten for ever stepping out of line.

He knows you’ve been made to beg for that which others have by right of simply existing.

Love.

He won’t ever make you beg.

He tells you this as he lathers you with soap.

“I love you.”

He tells you again as he thumbs a cleanser onto your cheeks.  Looks you right in the eye and declares it with a soft smile, twinkling eyes, and a kiss.  Watches you become like butter in his hands, softening, melting.  The coldness in your eyes dissipates into something sorrowful and pained– something yearning.

He knows that’s how you say it back.  He hopes one day he’ll hear you say the words, but this is okay for now.

He washes you meticulously, carefully, until not even a whisper of pink tint remains in the suds.  He dries you before himself.  Stands there dripping and cold as he puts you back together, caring for himself only once you demand it.

He wouldn’t stop shivering.  You practically had to say something.

How is it that he’d sacrifice his own comfort to take care of you?  He’d give and give until you had to fucking force him to take.  He confuses you.  You’ve never met anyone like him.  

He makes you feel insane.

“Give me that,” you grumble, taking the blow dryer from him to fan it over his hair.  He’d already taken care of yours.  You feel practically out of your mind at how badly you’ve wanted to do this.  You run your fingers through his pretty blonde locks, ruffle them into place, fluff the front just right.  He practically purrs at your touch.

He’s just as bad as you in that regard.  There’s something about the way he preens in the mirror as he watches you, perks up and grins, adjusts his hair just slightly from where you’d styled it that makes you chuckle.

John can’t even begin to explain how happy he is to finally see you smile.

He brings you to bed.  Normally you’d be initiating shenanigans, teasing and touching him every step of the way, but you’re tired in a way that not even sleep will fix.  He’s told you before that it’s a mental fatigue– that you’re overloaded and need to make time for yourself.  That even The Homelander needs to take a break sometimes.

He’s adamant about it tonight. 

“You can stay here.  Use some of your sick days.” He schemes.  “You’ve gotta have some of those after all these years, right?”

When you don’t answer, his brows knit in confusion.  He knows that means no, which makes no sense to him– but he doesn’t press you to explain.

“I want you to stay here.”  He says firmly.  He squeezes your hands between his as he stares into your eyes, engulfing you in that oceanic gaze that has a special way of getting you to do damn near anything.

You find yourself nodding.  What did you care if you pissed off everyone at Vought?  It’s not like it’d be the end of the world, and you’d much rather be with him anyway.  You huff a laugh against his neck as you nuzzle close to him.

How many people have ever been able to sucker you into something the way he can?  Well, there was one person, but… what’s done is done.  

But, John?

He had a way about wearing you down with just a simple smile, honeyed words, pretty blue eyes, and a declaration of love.  You really like the way his grin grows wider when you agree.  You like the way he hugs you tight and kisses the top of your head in excitement.

There’s no one in the world like him.  Nobody at all.

Your Johnny is so very special.

[keicordelle]

You know, I was going to make a post about how, for all that Mizora says she can't undo the magic that transforms Wyll, there are plenty of ways a powerful enough spellcaster could restore him to his original body, but when I went to read up on the spells I had in mind-- there really isn't, huh?

The obvious go to is True Resurrection. I mean, you don't even need the dead person's body to restore them to life, the spell creates one for them. And admittedly, the spell description is a little vague about restoring them to their own body, but I have to assume that's the intent. It does restore undead to their non-undead form, so it can alter the body of whoever it resurrects, but given that it states that so clearly, I'm reluctant to assume it'd be the same for someone altered in a different fashion (say, a werewolf, or perhaps someone twisted into a devil as a result of their pact). It does clear curses and other nefarious effects, so if it's a curse laid upon him then maybe it would work. But I think the chances of it simply giving him back his devilish body are pretty high, and given the 25k gold price tag on it, that's not really a risk I'd want to take.

Resurrection is similarly worded, except it can't clear curses or raise undead, so probably even less likely to restore Wyll's human body.

Clone can restore your youth, but given that it requires an offering of flesh to cast, I think it's safe to assume the test-tube grown Wyll would also bear horns and pointy bits where he does not particularly want them. If even Mizora can't undo the magic that turns him, I have to assume it's transformed him down to his DNA, and growing a new body from that same flesh will result in the same appearance.

Reincarnation could craft him a new body with a reasonably high likelihood of not being a tiefling, but he wouldn't necessarily be human -- and even if he was, it crafts him an entirely new body, like hitting the randomizer on a character creator. There's almost a 0% chance he'd end up looking like he used to. So new appearance yes, original body no.

If he felt like dipping into less savory techniques, he could try Magic Jar and then possessing someone else's body, but again, that doesn't really help him regain his human form.

True Polymorph could work, depending on how you define "creature". Is a human a different creature than a tiefling? Or are we talking broad categories here? Do I need to turn from a humanoid into an aberation? (This could work though to turn a mindflayer back into a humanoid though, couldn't it? Hmm...) The changing of stats makes the idea of tiefling-human transformation a little awkward, but it could work. Maybe. Just make sure he's stripped down before you cast it, or you're losing all that lovely gear you spent 17 levels gathering.

And of course there's always Wish, but I'm not sure there's a Wizard in the world who wants to risk that 33% chance of never being able to cast it again.

But I also feel like all of that is moot, because I really don't think Wyll would take you up on it if you offered. For all that his new form discomforts and discomfits him, I think he'd refuse to part with it. He wears his altered, intimidating form with pride, because it stands for his beliefs, his refusal to bow down in the face of evil when his morals are on the line. For all that he looks the part of a devil, that body represents his complete and utter goodness, and even if that's probably not how he sees himself, I think that he would want to keep his body if only to show that you can look like the most monstrous version of yourself and still hold true to your virtue. And once he's had some time to grow accustomed to the horns and the stares, he would not wish to erase his body and what it stands for, even if the opportunity presented itself.

[thecreaturecodex]

Monster Art History: The Wendigo

You may be wondering why the wendigo, which has become very popular in pop culture over the last 10 years or so, is usually depicted in Western sources with a deer head. This appears nowhere in Native American traditions, despite the creature having lots of folkloric variations. The association of the wendigo with deer is 100% Western, 100% modern, and has a long, weird history.

Just in case you need a primer, the windigo or witiko is a supernatural being from the Algonquin speaking nations of the eastern American continent. It appears as an emaciated figure, sometimes giant, sometimes covered in ice, sometimes both. In many stories, they have a literal heart of ice. Windigos are manifestations of cannibalism and winter, and hunt, kill and eat people. Someone who resorts to cannibalism to survive, or otherwise abandons their community for personal gain, will become one of them. A few stories tell of someone being “cured” and turned back into a human, but usually the only cure is to kill the monster. In the last several decades, native writers have  associated windigos with capitalism and deforestation as an extension of their selfishness. If you would like to know more about the properly Native windigo in context, I recommend Dangerous Spirits: The Windigo in Myth and History by Shawn Smallman.

The creature first came into horror fiction with Algernon Blackwood’s “The Wendigo”. Note the spelling, which would become the standard in horror, and generally in non-academic Western sources. In that story, it is not associated with cannibalism, but instead is a more generic “evil spirit of nature”. This wendigo stalks white people in the wilderness and turns a Native character into a new wendigo by seizing them and flying with them into the sky. This definitely better fits fears about non white people, fears about nature, and how the one is closer to the other than “civilized” people. Its description in the story is vague (the most we get is that it has burned its feet away by running into the sky). But when the story appeared in Weird Tales in the 1930s, Virgil Finlay illustrated it like this, the first antlered wendigo I know of.

This story was ripped off by August Derleth, a prominent Weird author in the 1940s and the main popularizer of HP Lovecraft. In his Cthulhu Mythos stories, he introduces Ithaqua the Wind Walker, which is an alien version of Blackwood’s monster. This fits into Derleth’s vision of the gods and monsters of HP Lovecraft falling into the four classical elements, with Ithaqua being invented to represent Air. Ithaqua is usually depicted as an icy, emaciated giant, so ironically is one of the more accurate wendigos to Indigeonous beliefs in pop culture.

Image from a recent French edition of Call of Cthulhu RPG, by Loic Muzy

In Pet Sematary, Stephen King uses a wendigo as the reason for why the titular cemetery is cursed. This is an update of the classic racist trope of the “Indian Burial Ground”, except this time what gets buried there comes back animalistic and evil. The racist implications of that are pretty apparent. This wendigo is seen briefly and has ram’s horns. It does not appear in the first film adaptation, but does in the more recent one... with deer horns instead, because those are trendy right now.

A good scholarly look at the real windigo versus the 20th century horror wendigo is “The Appropriation of the Windigo Spirit in Horror Literature” by Kallie Hunchman.

In the 1980s, a movie called Frostbiter: Wrath of the Wendigo was produced, but it wasn’t released until 1995 by Troma. From what I’ve read, it’s a pretty transparent ripoff of Evil Dead 2, with the characters being picked off in a haunted cabin with a zombie in the basement. The “twist” is that the origin of the horrors is a wendigo released by breaking a Christian demonology-style sacred circle. This wendigo is realized in stop motion animation, and has the most deer-like body yet.

A number of other independent horror movies in the 90s and 2000s used wendigos as a plot element. These follow the Blackwood/King approach of having the wendigo being something evil, ancient and Native American, reflecting white anxieties about living on stolen land more than Native anxieties about cannibalism and greed. Wendigo (2001) has the creature sicced on a white family when they hit a deer with their car. The Last Winter (2006) posits that global warming and fossil fuel extraction have unleashed the ghosts of dead animals, which are wendigo apparently, to revenge themselves on mankind. Which approaches the idea that greed is wendigo sickness, but I don’t think intentionally as a reference to modern Native literature. The “wendigo” in this movie are spectral moose and caribou.

The mainstream breakthrough of the deer-headed wendigo was in, appropriately enough for this blog, Pathfinder RPG. In “Spires of Xin-Shalast”, the last volume of Rise of the Runelords published in 2008, a wendigo is a major encounter. I suspect that either the author (Greg A. Vaughn), or one of the editorial staff had seen Frostbiter, as the setup involves a cabin haunted by dwarven cannibal ghosts who all killed and ate each other due to a wendigo’s influence. This wendigo is a hybrid of the Blackwood and Cree versions in terms of its MO: it is a cannibal ice spirit that wants to make more cannibals, and does so by abducting people and running off into the sky with them. Its design is the standard for what most Western artists depict wendigos as these days: an emaciated humanoid with the head and antlers of a deer (and the burned off feet of Algernon Blackwood, which are less common):

Image by Tyler Walpole, © Paizo Publishing

This wendigo definitely made a splash at the time; it was the first time I remember seeing a deer-headed wendigo, and art of that design started to become common. It pushed away previous wendigo depictions, which were typically werewolves (as French Canadian trappers had blended the concept with their own loup-garou, and Werewolf the Apocalypse had a whole faction of racist Native American “wendigos”) or shaggy and ape like (based more on the look of the Marvel Comics villain). 

What turned wendigos from “folklore/horror monster” to “fandom blorbo” was Hannibal, which first aired in 2013. In that series, the first murder is a woman’s body impaled on a stag’s head, after which protagonist Will Graham has visions of a black stag, and a man with the antlers of a stag, representing murder, evil, and of course the cannibalistic murderer Hannibal Lecter.

Since Hannibal was super popular with the shipping fandom set, wendigo themed characters became popular in its wake, creating a wholly new way to culturally appropriate the wendigo. This was magnified by Over the Garden Wall, which came out in 2014, and its villain The Beast. The Beast is never called a wendigo, but is an antlered giant associated with winter, and so is commonly head-canoned as a wendigo and associated with them in fandom circles.

Which gets us to the modern day, where teenagers have misunderstood wendigo OCs, any character with antlers can be called a wendigo on the internet, and actual First Nations people with an actual cultural connection to the legend wish that people would just knock it off.

[gallusrostromegalus]

AEIWAM - Some details about whats going on with Komamura. IIRC canon said he was a werewolf, are you doing anything with him?

Me: What IS Komamura's backstory? Me: *reads backstory and eventual canon fate of Komamura* Me: Hm. Me: That's thematically weird and depressing. Me: I'll just ignore that :)

---

So in An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy, there's ALL KINDS of animal-people and supernatural creatures of varying degrees of anthropomorphic states in the Soul Society! Wolf people! Yokai! Centaurs But Bad! Snake people (sneople)! Mothmen! Whatever the fuck The Philosopher Wax is! Hell, Zaraki Kenpachi was raised by eagles! More nonhuman persons than you can shake a stick at!

They just stay away from the humans because The Humans are TERRIBLE.

...Not as terrible as my immediate family though, The Young Wolf is willing to gamble. he has to leave his home suddenly, in the middle of the night, frightened and injured. Family feuds are bad enough, but a drought year for a large group of apex carnivores and great-grandmother dying and creating a power vacuum? I'm lucky I got out alive! He reasons, tightening the bandages and wincing.

It doesn't look so bad. he lies to himself, looking at his reflection in the where he had finally collapsed from exhaustion and blood loss the previous night and somehow woke up alive this morning. Great-Grandfather did me a favor, trying to bite me in half like that- a tail would just make it even harder to blend in with the humans!

...Clothes would help more though. He sighs.

One man's trash is another's treasure, and that has never been more true than in the case of wolves that want to live with humans. The Young Wolf nearly weeps with joy when he finds the dump- barely-rotted animal carcasses to eat! broken wood for a fire! and clothes! Big enough to fit him! Alright that's definitely a bloodstain with a big, sort of sword-slash-shaped hole in the middle, but nothing a dunk in the river won't solve!

...Or not. Well, at least being covered in mud is less suspicious than being covered in blood? How does this thing even go on anyway? The garment is so confusing, he almost doesn't hear the humans who came to dump something until they are nearly upon him, and realizing they'll panic if they see his face, he grabs a broken basket and jams it over his head.

"Hey!" one of the humans calls out, seeing the movement. "What're you?" An old man peers around the pile at him, curious.

The Young Wolf sputters- he's heard tales of humans before, but this is the first human he's ever actually seen- The stories tell of their strange dark eyes and flattened faces how their fur is so fine they're nearly bald all over, and this man fits the description perfectly. An old woman- he guesses this one is a Woman, because what little fur she has is longer- she appears behind him, equally curious, then smacks the man under the ear.

"You dummy!" She snaps. "That's a monk!"

"Big damn monk!" The man laughs- indeed, even though he's one of the smallest of his people and not even grown, The Young Wolf towers over him- but still, he extends his open hand. Like the stories say, his claws are blunt and pale and the pads of his paws are soft. "What's yer name, venerable?"

"He can't answer that, he's a monk!" the woman snaps, exasperated. "They got- whatchyamacallit- Vows of Silence!"

"Oh, right!" the old man laughs. "Well, wouldn't matter if you could talk anyhow- my Old Lady's deaf as a post and I'm dumb as a rock! Come on, this is no place for a holy man!" he waved.

"Our home is up this way- it isn't much, but it's better than sleeping in Garbage! You stay with us and I'll fix that ratty old robe right up!" She said, grabbing him by the hand-

-

Ba-San looks down at his hand- it feels strange in hers, but it's not the fine gray fur covering his fingers or the rough pads on his palm or the dark nails that taper to claws.

It's that the hand is bleeding, scraped and cut and one of his nails missing like it had been torn off in a fight.

Ba-San is so old that everyone has forgotten her name and they just call her Ba-San, even her husband (who is so old that everyone has forgotten his name and calls him Jii-san, even his wife), and she didn't get this ancient by being an idiot. She glances up at the broken basket she knows got thrown in here by her neighbor not a week ago and sees the large golden eyes inside, staring down at her.

She's also old enough to know what a frightened child looks like, no matter how tall or what species he is.

She makes a show of squinting at his hand. "Why, your nails are FILTHY! You can wash up at the well out back too." She pats his hand.

"Of course! That's right!" Jii-san laughs. "Like I said- I got gravel for brains! He can sleep in Sajin's bed- Sajin is our Boy, but he's long since left home. It'll be good to have a young person around again!" he says, taking the boy's other hand.

He follows, stumbling awkwardly in the badly-tied robe and like he's been injured, but if he leaves paw-prints behind him, they don't remark upon it. - After about a month, the boy has something to confess. And something to ask.

Ba-San and Jii-San have been kind to him- they let him into their home and fed him and Ba-San didn't fix his robe so much as make an entirely new one "appropriate for a Monk", and Jii-san found a pair of old work gloves for him "so you can do your Good Works without losing another nail". Ba-San always gives him her soup-bones "I don't have the teeth to chew them anymore" and Jii-san always moves over so they can both sleep in the sun-patch that appears in the middle of their home every afternoon.

He's tried to repay them how he can- he's tall enough to fix the holes in the roof of their one-room shack standing flat-footed on the floor, and he carries water from the well every day to wash the stone steps outside and re-painted the red gate out front and every morning he makes them breakfast to wake them up and every night he rubs their tired necks and shoulders.

"Mmm-rr." he tries at breakfast, and they both look up, but it's hard enough practicing human words in the woods behind the shack to the birds, let alone now, at the table with the two people he cares most about in the world.

"You say something, Venerable?" Jii-san asks. "Don't worry- I won't tattle to the abbot on you-" he teases.

"Shush!" Ba-san barks at him. "What is it?"

He sighs, and tries again, focusing on the sounds. "mMnoddamunk."

The two elders stare blankly at him.

"Ahm nodda munk." he tries again, enunciating better. "Ahm nodda yumn eethrr."

The two look at each other, then turn back to him and place a hand on each of his.

"...Sorta figur'd the first when you didn't recognize the shrine." Nods Jii-san. "-But that's alright. You take good care of us."

"...Sort of figured the second when I saw your hand on the day we met." Nods Ba-San. "-But that's alright. You're a good person, which is a very different thing than being a Good Human."

The Boy stares at them, stunned, then cringes, embarrassed. Of course! They're old, not stupid. "Aiyee- r-r-r MN! Aiyee LLied." he apologizes, stumbling over the difficult consonant in the middle, determined to conquer it.

"I didn't hear any lies, did you, Jii-san?" asks Ba-san.

"I didn't hear nothin' and my ears even work!" he grins, ears perking up.

The Boy sighs, still exasperated with their antics but mostly relieved.

...Then something Jii-san said caught up with him, and he frowns.

"Aiyee- Aye haffa..." Another tricky consonant. "Aye needa assk ssmmng." he changed tracks. L was enough of a battle for one day, Q and his frustrating wife U could wait.

"Whadday wanna know, Venerable?" Jii-san asked, and Ba-san frowned, turning her ear out behind their home, already suspecting his questions.

He held up two fingers and they nodded, waiting. He'd gotten very good at numbers and pointing already, and until today, that had carried the conversation. "sssHrrine?" he asked.

Jii-san frowned. "...what's your second question?"

"th-Therre'ss ah- Grrrave?" he pointed out behind the shrine, to where a stone stood, with what he now recognized as marks signifying a name carved into it. "wHo?"

Ba-San and Jii-san looked at each other, distraught for some time before Ba-San finally turned back to him, both hands on his.

"...Venerable," She finally spoke. "You had to run away from home in a hurry, didn't you?"

The boy nods.

"-And Jii-san and I were the first people you met that weren't you family, right?" She continues.

He nods again. She purses her lips, agitated.

"Jii-San." She finally speaks. "I think we ought to show him Sajin."

Jii-san sighs and nods, agreeing with her, and stands up. At the back of the house, there is a little cabinet with two boxes they never open, and something covered by a black cloth. Jii-san opens the cabinet and takes out the thing covered by the black cloth, pulling the cloth aside and bringing the thing to the table. It's a flat rectangle, and on it is a drawing of a very strange creature.

It's face is almost perfectly circular, and it's body covered in clothes, like how Humans dress, including a funny hat. What the boy can see of the creature is perfectly smooth and hairless and the same color as not-quite-ripe peaches. It has a long mane of straight dark gray hair growing from the top of its head, and a beard a bit like a billy-goat's

"This is Sajin," Says Jii-san, voice wavering a bit. "He wasn't our son- you can tell, we're not related by blood- but he was Our Boy. He took care of us, like you do now."

"He was Our Boy." nods Ba-San, on the verge of tears. "Then he was Our Man. And then he was Our Old Man, and then-" She stopped, and began to cry in earnest. "-And then he left home, and we buried his body out behind the shrine, and marked his grave, as Humans do."

The boy continued to stare at Sajin's portrait. "...Sajin." he whispered, and the name didn't fight him at all. "...Ihff- if Sajin iss Yumann-?" he looked up at his friends. "Whattrrre You?"

Ba-San beckons him and Jii-san back to the cabinet, and puts her hand on one of The Boxes They Never Open. Jii-San puts his hand on the other, and together, the open the lids just a tiny bit for The Boy to see inside.

He gasps and steps back in horror- the things in the boxes are very much like the skulls he's seen of his people before, but the noses are all smooshed like they didn't grow right, and the eyes are too large and- -And they're just the right size each to belong to Ba-San and Jii-San.

"We are Koma, Guardian Dogs, and this is our shrine." Says Jii-san, closing the lid on his box as Ba-san closed hers, and placing the drawing of Sajin back on the shelf above them. "We wear clothes and speak like humans because we once took Names, a very long time ago, and thus we are People and we act like People." He explained.

"Nnames?" the boy asks.

"A Name is... a sort of contract, that the humans made up." Says Ba-San, locking the cabinet back up. "Humans can live together in such huge packs and crowded cities because they have Rules- you're not allowed to kill other people except in self-defense. You're not allowed to take food someone else caught. Nobody is allowed to kill a child for any reason, things like that. If you take a Name, it's like saying- 'I am this Person! And I agree to abide by the rules of being a person!', and you have to follow the rules, but everyone else has to follow the rules for you too, because you have a Name. So Humans can live very close to each other, because they all have an understanding that nobody is going to violate those rules."

"It's not just humans that can take names- long ago, some wolves decided to take names, and those wolves became Dogs, that live with humans. They were our ancestors, and like our ancestors, we took Names, and we obeyed the rules, and for that, we were fed and allowed to sleep inside and given soup-bones and let to sleep in the sun-patch, but most of all, we were Loved." Said Jii-san.

"-And just the same, we Loved Sajin. He was Our Boy. And We were His Dogs." Said Ba-san, bursting into tears again. Jii-san held her, tears running down his face as well.

Ba-san cried into Jii-san's shoulder for a long time, and The Boy Who Was A Wolf That Wanted To Live Among The Humans sat in silence, thinking.

"...Cour-could Aye- take a nName?" He asks, slowly.

"You'd have to take two, and learn all the rules-" Nodded Jii-san. "But yes. Anyone who can talk can take a name. And you've been talking my tail off!" he wagged.

"Two?" the boy asked. He didn't need to use his fingers this time.

"Humans have two names- one is the name of that specific human, and one is the name of their family or the place they came from or what they did, as a sort of... Introduction. Humans are very big on introducing themselves and all their friends- though I suppose it makes sense, what with them having names to introduce themselves with."

"You can be a Komamura!" Jii-san said, wagging excitedly. "Ba-san and Jii-san are Koma, and we are your Ba-San and Jii-San, so you must be part of our family, so that makes you Mura, a relative- so you're a Koma-mura!" he nodded.

"Humans also give their children names of revered ancestors, to honor the ancestor, and protect the child." Added Ba-san. "You do Sajin's chores, you sleep in Sajin's bed, you take care of Sajin's Dogs... You must be Sajin!"

"That's your name, if you want it- Komamura Sajin!" Said Jii-san. The Boy stared at them for a long time, completely still, until they realized that, for the first time since they'd known him, the scarred nub on his backside was wagging too.

"Thank you." Said Sajin, tears streaming down his face too. --

Many months later, a Monk* leaves the little shrine to Ba-san and Jii-san at the edge of the dump. He leaves his home in no particular rush- if anything, he's lingering- in the middle of a bright morning, hale and with joy in his heart. He waves to his Ba-san and Jii-san as he heads down the road, promising to come back and visit.

"Look at that." says Ba-San. "Our Boy is leaving home again."

"I know," Says Jii-san. "-but this time it'll be alright."

--

[aurawrawr]

I adore you too much to hate you now

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna x afab! brown reader

This short fic is written mostly in second person PoV. Character has a name but it's not heavily used. I'm about to ferally self-insert into the following work.

The fic is set in a feudal time period so there are themes of prostitution and non-con/dub-con included.

Minors, DNI. Word count: 2.9k.

CW: themes of bloodshed, prostitution, scars, little bit of non-con/dub-con, description of smut, oral sex (f! receiving), voyeurism, auralism, submission, worship, PIV, Sukuna's true form (no smut with true form); Uraume is an Oiran (with they/them pronouns) [no, I won't explain it]

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who fucks a different working woman of the household every night because none of them satisfies him enough for a double take. Concubines visit his palace in rotations. Some never make their way out.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who despises the cooks in his household — why is the rice never soft, curry too salty, fish not salted enough, soba soggy, desserts always dry? He has killed many a cook, replaced them with new ones, only to be disappointed in a different way.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who does not care who is hired in the kitchens, in the lawns, to clean, to wash his clothes, to keep it all running, but turns the house upside down if anything in his chambers is out of place.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who switches between his real form and human form depending on who he's with. Only Uraume has ever seen his true form, the Oiran who trains and dresses the girls before sending them to Sukuna's bed.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who takes one bite of a non-Japanese cuisine and his eyes blow wide in wonderment. He demands to see the cook immediately.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who looks at you once, drinks in all your amber glory with his lustful gaze, before asking, "What's for dessert?" You still haven't learned to speak or understand Nihongo so you must rely on Uraume-hime to talk on your behalf. All you know is to keep your sight fixed on the Lord's feet. Puny, filthy humans must never lock eyes with Sukuna-sama. Nobody told you so but you came to that conclusion yourself by the way the Oiran kept pushing your head down while in the Lord's chambers.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who groans, shifts in his seat when Uraume-hime tells him something in Nihongo. Before you know it, your hands are being pulled by two other women. You are laid on your back, the hem of your robe pushed up to your hips. You pull your thighs tight together, whispering words of resistance in your tongue, words unintelligible to the Lord.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who is intrigued by your foreignness. In his thick, all-knowing voice, he asks you something from between your legs. In his language, but you've been asked this before several times so you know the answer. "Anata no namaê wa?" He asks. You still can't see his face.

And you answer, Aparajita. The name of a beautiful blue flower laid at your God's feet as an offering. Literal meaning, unconquered. Your mother had given you the name, in hopes that you won't end up on the same path as herself. That you will escape the brothels of Bengal and find your own place in the world. Her dreams had come quite true, you had escaped. Only to then find yourself at the mercy of a creature you didn't quite understand.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who plays with your name on his tongue while his fingers play on your clit. Your hips have to be held down by Uraume-hime because of how much he's making you shiver with the most minimal touches. You've grown up in a bordello, even spent a night in a Japanese bathhouse before finding this job in Sukuna-sama's kitchen, but never have you heard of the woman being on the receiving end of pleasure.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who holds lengthy discussions with Uraume-hime while three of his fingers are knuckle-deep inside you. You have a palm over your mouth to keep you from gasping out but it's promptly removed by one of the women. When you look at her, she has nothing to say, only knotted eyebrows and a gaze filled with guilt. You know this will probably happen again, maybe you will be the one holding someone down, and you'll have the same guilt on your face.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who delights in the sound of you, pauses all conversations and trains his ears to your honeydew voice. When he places his mouth on your flesh, the pleasure tears you apart. Needy moans leak from your lips while he laps at you, taking his fill of dessert.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who wants you in his chambers every night now. And he wants you to understand what he's saying without Uraume translating and gesturing. It wastes a lot of time. Time he'd rather spend burying his cock down your pretty, mauve pussy. So he gets you a tutor. You are to spend your days learning Nihongo — initially spoken language only — and cooking for Sukuna-sama, and nights in his bed, face down, ass up, crying as loud as you can because that's what gets him off. Your voice.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who doesn't realize how long it has been since he's seen a different woman. You satiate him, more than enough.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who doesn't realize that he's slowly starting to wonder if he's enough for you. He watches you all day from the landing of his first floor quarters as you do your duties in the yard. Your dedication to learning a new language just for his sake is mesmerizing. How your delicate fingers wrap around the stem of the brush as you learn to draw the alphabet. The way your lips move as you repeat the tutor's words. When you sit down to cook for him, your leadership invigorates him. You assign jobs to others, teach the new hires how to mix spices, dice vegetables, stoke the coal until it's burning bright. He curses under his breath when the fire iron lands on the side of your feet, scalding your skin, making you hiss out in pain.

You laugh it off when someone brings you a mug of water, the sound of your joy enchanting to Sukuna-sama. He decides the fate of that coal poker. You're busy wrapping a piece of cloth around your wound when, out of nowhere, the iron rod catches on crimson hot fire. It scares your colleagues but you know exactly whose work that is.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who heals your wound when you're lying in his bed, freshly fucked, your back facing him since you're still not allowed to look at him. You've tried to leave wordlessly several nights but his strong arms have held you back, whispering a stern yet somehow soft "Tomaru." So you leave in the mornings and he watches with sleepy eyes as you drape your saree around yourself, clean and fix his bedchamber before leaving. He is a tiger when he fucks — he'd lay you down on any flat surface, take as long as he wants. The only criteria is he should be able to hear you. It's only collateral that the room would be in absolute disarray, left for you to fix lest Sukuna-sama's wrath befalls the entire household.

You sit up, alarmed, when you feel his hand on your feet. In your culture, only a child touches a woman's feet. Definitely not the Lord of the house, and definitely not the man whose bed you sleep in every night. He may not be human anymore, but he is your King, he is who you submit to. In a way, Sukuna-sama is your God and you are the flower at his feet.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who doesn't know that all his efforts and adjustments are being duly noted and silently appreciated. You wanted to wear sarees and ghagras instead of the furisode so Uraume-hime allowed it, even going to the extent of bringing in a tailor for you; you knew it was not their decision to make. When he noticed the dryness of your hands, of your back, he ordered for butter and cream to be made in abundance so the women of the household can use them for cosmetic purposes. The only woman he cared to have softer skin was you. When a beggar invaded your kitchen, he brought his trident to the doorway only to find them with a plate full of food, relinquishing their appetite. He may be a King, but you are his Goddess of peace, surfeit, pleasure, warmth — everything, everything nice.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who wants to know the color of your eyes — see for himself, not hear from Uraume how black your pupils are, it's like you absorb all the light of the world and reflect nothing back. It's not subtle that the Oiran despises you but Sukuna-sama knows they won't let a finger on you without his permission.

It's not like you've never looked at him. When he paces the yard in his crimson and black robe, sometimes in his white and blue robe, you're taken aback by his form, his posture, his powerful gait. The thick black lines on his face and wrists have always made you curious. The extra pair of eyes add a layer of smugness to his persona. One night, when he is tossing and turning in his sleep, you find yourself driven by urges you can't describe, to look at him. You give in. His broad back is marred by scars — slashes, burns, puncture wounds galore. And that forms more questions in your mind. If he can heal you, why doesn't he heal himself?

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who has always fucked you from behind, been satisfied with your voice guiding him to your peaks and lows. But tonight, he wants to see your face contort with pleasure when he settles his thick cock inside you. All his conviction flies out the window when he looks at you, helpless, shaking, not knowing where to look because nobody prepared you for this. He loses control, hungrily kissing your lips — something he has never done before — leaving marks on your jaw and neck. When he grabs your tits, and sinks his teeth on your fat, you cry out. You didn't know having the Lord feed on you would drive you so crazy, it would coax something unthinkable out of your mouth. Moans and gasps go eat grass, Sukuna-sama didn't know being called his name by his lovely, honey-skinned lover could send him deeper into his void of lust. And not just any name. Not even Sukuna-sama. You whisper, Ryo-sama. Ryo-sama. Like you've been thinking about this ever since he first touched you. Like you've been saying this name behind your sealed lips all these nights. He hasn't been called Ryo for years, never by anybody other than his human mother.

You've done it now. This is as far as you go, as far as your mother's ambitious naming could push you. When he pulls out of you and makes you sit up, all you know to do is bow to him, forehead touching the floor between the two of you. "Sumimasen. Sumimasen. Sumimasen, Sukuna-sama." You keep whispering in your awkward yet earnest accent.

He shifts on his knees, awkward for the first time ever in his immortality. "Look at me."

You keep your eyes trained to the ground, shaking your head.

"Look at me, Paro." His voice is surprisingly mild, like he's only amused. Paro is his name for you, chosen at first for convenience during moments of passion, but soon it became a name of ownership, nobody else could call you Paro, and now... it's something else.

"Is this a test, my Lord?" You're scared. You've been scared of him before. This is not something new.

"Look at me."

"You can make me look at you whenever you want, my Lord."

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who has never apologized to anyone, never pleaded. He never needed to, he is the King. He is so powerful, his blood boiling with cursed magic, he can take several lives with a flick of his wrist, instill fear in the common man just by revealing his true form. Here he is, sitting in front of a woman who cooks for him, keeps his household tidy, his cock warm. You have him wrapped around your pinky; you could poison his food, castrate him when he's hard, stab him once he's asleep with you in his arms. But you don't. You've either lost hope in life or your heart to him. He hopes it's the latter.

"P-please." He says under his breath. "Please look at me, Paro."

Your eyes shoot up in disbelief. The Lord pleading with you? Begging you? If Uraume-hime hears of it, they'd make sure you don't live to see another day. But, you don't care. Right now, you're swimming in the blood sea of your Ryo-sama's eyes. What a crime it is to have kept this vision from you! You don't want to look at anything else ever again. But your heart is feeble. You're afraid if you stare, you will end up offending him. So you try to look away but he catches your face in his grasp, squeezing your chin, tilting it up. He breathes on your face, on your mouth. "Is there anything in your heart for me?"

You nod. Not because you're scared of the consequences of telling him otherwise, not because you have nowhere else to go, but because it's true.

"You adore me?"

You nod again.

"Look at me, Paro. I don't want to have to tell you that again." You meet his eyes. "This is not my true form. I conceal it so as to not scare you."

"You scare me enough already, my Lord."

Sukuna laughs. After months of being in each other's company, you finally feel the tension easing. "I don't have a heart, Paro, but there's a warmth in me, somewhere, for you too. Maybe it is love."

"Maybe only lust."

"I've lived long enough to know the difference."

You avert your gaze and bow to him again. "Sumimasen, Sukuna-sama. I shouldn't have questioned you." You touch his feet like your mother had taught you to do with elders and idols of Gods and Goddesses. He is both to you. You're not sure where he learnt it from but every time you have done this before, he has placed a hand on your head, as if to bless you. This time, he takes your wrist to his mouth to kiss it.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who wants to trust you with his true form. He wants to tell you how he came to be cursed with that body, what he had done to deserve immortality, an eternity of wealth, monstrous glory and fame but also peerless, loveless, cold torture. He wants you by his side, not for a brief era of his limbo, but forever. Yet, he's sure you wouldn't want that kind of power. Your strength is in your altruism. To ask you to be by his side for centuries, maybe even millenia, will be to burden you, to keep you from ten where angels like you belong.

"Do you want me to see your true form, my Lord?" You read his mind.

"Would you like to see the real me? Aren't you afraid? I'm sure you've heard Uraume talk about it."

You toy with the answer in your head for some time. You are afraid. But you know he is probably more scared. So you ask, "Are you afraid I'll be repulsed, my Lord?"

He doesn't answer. You know him more than he wants to admit.

"I adore you too much to hate you now, my Lord." You confess. In a bold stunt, you raise yourself on your knees and put your hands around his neck. You can feel your shoulders tense in fear. But when his arms engulf you, you relax a little. You place your lips near his, desperate for his touch and he gives it to you. He kisses you fervently, smooches after smooches, tongues over each other, his strong hands kneading your skin because he needs your skin.

You gasp when it happens. It's not slow. It starts with the loving pads of his fingers being replaced by sharp nails. He holds your head tightly to his as he changes, denying you a glance until he's fully transformed. Your legs detach from the floor when he picks you up, hooking your feet behind his waist. You feel yourself rising against gravity, your thighs being pulled apart to capacity around his abdomen. All is still well, until you feel two more hands on you, something rough on your face, and something wet and slimy against your belly.

King of Curses Ryomen Sukuna who has never been ashamed, intimidated, now looking at you, wondering what you think of the villain who stands in front of you, asking you to love him regardless of how vile he is. You... you still want him, that's all there is to it. You look at his four muscular arms, the ghastly mask covering half of his face, the tongue sticking out of his abdomen, and most surprisingly, his two penises, and you still want him. All you're thinking of is how you can pleasure this him. He kneels in front of you, an act of submission, and he's still as tall as you are standing. You finally understand why only his bedroom has such a high roof.

You take his face in your hands, both the softer, a little human side and the rough, grotesque side, and you declare, "Ryo-sama, I will start a religion in your name, carve an idol akin to your true form, and tell people of your ire and also your sincerity. If you let me."

please don't copy my work, or publish it elsewhere without my consent. all banners are from pinterest.

I felt like cooking so there is a second part. Go, read that too.

[pumpkin-patch-cat]

New Job, Who Dis?!

(Grim x Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings:(DLC ending spoilers. Suggestive themes)

Grim is now living rent free in my brain.

After completing the DLC ending of A Date with Death, I have decided it is my favorite ending and conjured up a little dialog. This oneshot hints to the endings outcome, so spoiler warning ⚠️. This was written quickly, so pardon any grammatical errors! Enjoy!

“Hold up, start from the top. What's my job description again?”

“Your job will be to give life back to those who aren't supposed to die. Sometimes, innocent people are caught up in things where losing their life was NOT part of the original plan. Because your soul harbors the essence of life itself, with you at my side, you'll be able to attempt to save those people who are at the presepist of dying too early.”

“Attempt?” You eye him quizzically from your place at your desk. Casper is sat at the foot of your bed, long legs outstretched, hands in his lap. He nods and continues.

“Basically, when a mortal is on the verge of death, their soul has become tainted with what we call a ‘blight’ or ‘blight of death’. Similar to ‘the taint’ for reapers, though much much harder to bounce back from when the soul or a mortals very existence is overtaken or ‘infected’ if you will. Some people can bounce back on their own, while others succumb and meet their unfortunate end. I say attempt because sometimes a mortal is beyond cleansing. The blight is too far gone, and no amount of divine intervention will save their existence....so naturally, when we, no, you receive cases like this, time is of the essence.

“I see...wow, that's heavy. No pressure or anything. Sheesh.”

“Yes. The job will be difficult at times. Y/n, there will be times when a person will be beyond help. You'll want to save them desperately. Times where no matter how much effort is placed into saving them, it may not work, and you will be angry. I can't tell you how many times I've witnessed an innocent person parish entirely too early at the hands of a twisted version of fate. Those moments are out of my hands, and I have to ferry them away regardless. But that's where you'll come in.” 

“Sooo I'm basically an angel??”

“No, they're grotesque creatures. They instill fear in humans and sugar coat their acts with pretty words. You'll actually give hope. Plus, you're much prettier than they are. Who really needs that many eyes and wings, honestly??? But anyways…”

You fall silent in deep thought.

“Y/n? Why are you screwing up your face like that?”

“Can I really do this, Casper? What if I mess up??”

“My sweetest, little nightmare. I'll be there with you every step of the way.” Casper smiles reassuringly.

“Thank God. OH! Do I get a cool ass scythe of my own, too?” You perk up almost immediately, wistfully looking at his impressive weapon that is currently leaning against your wall nearest the door.

“I...I'll never get used to the way you can flip subjects so easily. But yes, I guess. Once you're settled, we will get you fitted with a 'cool ass scythe'. Or at least a decent weapon you'll use to channel your soul energy. I know a guy.”

“You know a guy? That doesn't sound shady at all, but fuck yea!”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm.

“I'm glad you're okay with this decision. I really couldn't think of a better way for this to work out for both of us but-”

“But you have a big, sexy brain that was able to figure it out, now you're stuck with me foreeevvver.” You beam, triumphantly.

“I suppose I am, and quite frankly, I would have it no other way.” With a smile on his face, Casper stands, reaches for your hands, and pulls you to your feet.

“Awww, little reaper. Since when did you get so mushy? It makes me want to violate yo- I mean...I could really go for some food right about now. Yea, food. That's what I meant."

“...You really are something else. We will grab something on the way to my place.”

“Bet. Finally making good on us moving in together?”

“Obviously. I can't escape you.”

“It was inevitable, Casper”

“Seems so…and by the way…”

Casper slips his arm around your waist gently, leaning into your ear.

“I'll take you up on that offer of 'violating' me later, my little nightmare.”

“You just want to be stepped on.”

“S-stepped on? What..uh...I”

“The blush on your cheeks says you do. Can't take it back now. Your fate is sealed. I hope you're ready.” you wink.

“Haaa....fuck.”

[machiavellli]

Some spicy Theodore Nott headcanons˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Notes: this was like driving: I don't have a driver license. Seriously like, you absolutely hyped me up for writing this and now I feel like I need to go touch some grass and drink some holy water.

Btw we shouldn't feel ashamed, like the first people ever to write in a language that is more similar to ours, literally wrote about about two nun fuck1ng him 108 times (yes that's what he says) in a week bc they thought he was mute. Like women in the 700 were DYING bc of novels, bc they couldn't never have enough of it and the majority developed a masturbat1on add1ction. We can't be worse, that's just humanity at its core: we are h0rny creatures.

⚠️: The blue parts are from a poem, from the author Giacomo da Lentini and it's called "Meravigliosamente" (| put a translation at the end, because it's ancient Italian and you can't translate it with a normal translator). It's one of my favorites poems ever, it's one the best incarnation of what love feels like. Yeah now the poets are cursing at me from above.

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 18+!!Breeding k1nk, p in v, ora1 f receiving, pregnant! reader description, nak3d people in general (idk what to put, BUT YOU HAVE BEEN ADVISED). English is not my first language, therefore you could find some mistakes, please report them to me!

With all being said: enjoy<3

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Theodore Nott, your Italian Slytherin guy:

Theo loves to love as we already established.

He loves to give, he would let his blood dry for you.

Therefore he likes to take care of his dear ones, especially you, il suo tesoro.

I also already told you about how he will think about your future together, how he would love to have a proper family with you.

He just wants to have what his family wasn't capable of giving him.

So when the seventh year it's over, it also means that his only obstacle, the one that used to keep him away from his dream, is also over.

Something changes inside of him, un istinto primario prende il sopravvento. He knows that now it is actually possible.

«Meravigliosamente

un amor mi distringe

e soven ad ogn'ora.»

Maybe the first few months it wouldn't be so evident, he would probably keep it for himself.

He wouldn't like to put pressure on you, he couldn't.

But every time you get intimate, tutte le volte che fate l'amore, he can't help but think what it will feel like letting himself go completely.

Letting it happen.

Letting himself have a proper release.

Letting himself paint your inside white.

His warm finding the embrace of your core.

Planting a life, creating it with il suo tesoro, la sua diletta.

That's the ultimate dream e cazzo quanto lo vorrebbe.

«Com'omo che ten mente

in altro exemplo pinge

la simile pintura,

cosi, bella, facc'eo,

che’nfra lo core meo

porto la tua figura.»

But for now he still has to curse within himself, "cazzo, cazzo, cazzo.", imprisoning that release, that dream.

Simply wishing he could stay inside, saving every drop for you.

It's so hard for him to distract himself from the heavy daydreaming.

His mind as pregnant with thoughts as he wish you were.

You would just look so gorgeous round with his child.

And he would easily do everything under the sight of your new silhouette.

(As he wasn't already totally lost in this love, this passion per la sua bella)

This particular scene keeps repeating in his cursed mind:

You, full and completely bare before him sitting on your shared bed, nonchalantly putting cream on every inch of your skin after a shower.

He might be at the doorstep looking from afar or already on the bed

But it always ends with him interrupting you, taking your hands with devotion, already giving you passions with just his eyes, just for him to say: "dimmi quello che desideri e sarà tuo"

And he would literally do anything.

«Al cor m'ard'una doglia,

com'om che te lo foco

a lo suo seno ascoso,

e quanto più lo'nvoglia,

tanto arde più loco

e non po star incluso»

He would let you exploit his tongue in favor of your pleasure, savoring every drop coming from down there.

Growling just at your moist sight

And he would taste you like a starved man.

Over and over again.

On the bed,

On the Couch,

At the dinner table.

Sempre e ovunque.

Holding you still with one of his firm hands on your now round stomach.

Non è mai stato così facile inginocchiarsi e predicare da quando la sua religione, la sua donna angelo, sei diventata tu.

You look like a miracle to him.

And he would absolutely get lost in this strong trance filled with amore, passione e lussuria.

He would delicately lay your figure on the bed, like the most precious Greek statue of a goddess.

But the softness of your skin will make him realize that you are not a vision, but his blessed reality.

Your fullness getting in the way would quickly become the most delicious sight ever in his eyes.

His dead stare penetrating your soul along with his physical body.

He would tell you that his eyes look gone because he is convinced to be already dead and already in Paradise.

So lost in the haze, so convinced of the woman under him to be an angel.

And now, he is making her la madre dei suoi figli, sua moglie, la sua fiamma, da qui all'eternità.

Your legs, now afar from each other, looking like the most rare prophecy.

The softness of your skin feeling like the salvation from every sin.

Your swollen breast moving along his movements in you, rhythmically, like a fine melody.

And if by chance a single tear of your product falls from them, his eyes would shine like the sun during August.

He won't esitate to collect it with his mouth, tasting yet another one of your miracles. He wouldn't hold back the raw attitude taking over his mind, he simply couldn't.

«Assai v'aggio laudato,

madonna, in tutte parti

di bellezze ch'avete.»

When you two got together he thought he couldn't love you more, the same on your wedding day, but now he would simply let this love tear him apart he would still and always pray in your name.

In the morning he would wake you up gently, caressing you cheeks, watching as the eyes that caught his soul slowly open.

He would prepare breakfast for you, taking it directly in bed.

And every day will only be about you and you only.

Need a bath? Already prepped and warm amore.

You have swollen feet? A massage from him is mandatory.

Need to put the nursery together? Consider it done.

And don't get me started on the amount of stuff that he would buy for your unborn child.

He just wants to make sure everything will be ready for the big day.

But that's just a dream, playing tricks with his mind.

«Canzonetta novella,

va canta nova cosa;

lèvati da maitino

davanti a la più bella,

fiore d'ogn'amorosa,

bionda più ch'auro fino»

"Theo, darling, are you still here?" you ask him after two solid minutes of him staring at you, to the point that you were starting to feel suffocated by his gaze.

His pupils blown, and as his breathing increase, he finally snaps back from daydreaming.

But now, now it's been months of this agony, della sua mente completamente offuscata dal desiderio.

He just can't help himself anymore, he is a direct and honest person, he can't continue to keep this away from you.

And with the most serious expression known to mankind and his eyes firmly buried into yours, he doesn't hesitate anymore:
"Facciamo un figlio amore, facciamolo adesso, non ne posso più d'aspettare, non posso più nemmeno aspettare che er mondo faccia n'altro giro" he would tell you in one breath.

You kiss him delicately, "Allora non esitare, non aspettare che la luna fugga Mr.Nott"

"Ai suoi ordini Signora Nott"

"Ti amo tantissimo" the last thing he would tell you before finally letting himself completely go, completamente perso in questo amore, si che possa ammirare te, te sospirare e te amare, te soltanto.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Okay so here's the translation of the poem, the canzonetta, which as I said it's called "Meravigliosamente", in English “Wonderfully":

My ask box is open!✨🥂

<- part II

-> part III?

[the-cosmic-teapot]

Eternity and So Much More

Bokuto x reader

WC: 2392

TW: Self doubt, insecurity, marriage talk, long term commitment, reader needs a hug and kiss, bokuto is amazing and really affirming, I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible (engagement ring description, but not story crucial-like a sentence max) , open ended

*proof read by my man in arts husband, its his fault for typos :)

Summary: Bokuto had a very important question to ask you, but you don't see yourself in the best light.

A/N: Hi pals, this is my first time publishing anything outside of a really cringy period on Wattpad when I was 13 (no longer available for my own sanity). I am not typically a writer, so I apologize in advance, but I love Bokuto so much yeah. I hope you like this! Feedback is always welcome!

~Cosmic

Being in a relationship with a pro athlete is difficult because more times than not, they prioritize their careers. It’s what they have been working towards for the longest time and they will do almost anything to stay on the court. This is especially true with one, Bokuto Koutaro. You could ask anyone about the large, owlish man and his devotion to volleyball; they would all say the same thing: he is meant to be on the court. Knowing this did not stop you from being in a relationship with him. If anything there was a sense of pride because of his passion for the sport. There were countless missed dinners and events because of extra practice, but this did little to dissuade you from falling for the outside hitter. With all of the missed dates there were  thoughtful gifts or a lavish trip with him for time together to make up his absences. 

You knew it was coming, Bokuto's proposal, because he is not the most subtle person and he is not great at hiding things. It had been about a week prior when you found the ring in his sock drawer when doing his laundry.  It was a beautiful, yet simple princess cut diamond ring with a few accent stones around it, and here you are, at dinner with Bokuto and some friends, both old and new. Most of the night was filled with laughter and smiles, as is most of the time with Bokuto, except this time there was a pit in your stomach you couldn’t explain. Was it something you ate? Maybe it was social anxiety from being around all of Bokuto's high school friends, who you’ve seen on a few occasions. You only really knew Akaashi because of how close he was with Bokuto. Yet, in spite of this feeling you pushed through dinner with a smile.

As the appetizers and entrees came and went Bokuto insisted on getting dessert for everyone. The pair of you settled on a chocolate cake with ice cream. While the desserts were being prepared Bokuto gathered the attention of everyone and began speaking of the love he has for you, and your beauty. As he continued his speech, the pit grew deeper and deeper. His little speech concluded in tandem with the arrival of dessert, where you saw the same ring that was hidden among his socks sitting on the top of the cake slice. Then you look at Bokuto already on one knee as he asks the question, “Will you marry me?”

At this moment you didn’t have any words. Why weren’t you saying anything? Could you say anything at all?

~~

The first day of your third year at university felt the same as the others. You noted that campus was a bit livelier than normal, but this would surely die down after a couple of weeks as people lost motivation to go to class. As you walked into your first lecture hall you chose your seat with care as you would be using it for the rest of the semester. After all, humans are creatures of habit. 

When you stepped outside of the lecture hall at the end of class, you could swear you felt like a mummy leaving its crypt and stepping into the sun for the first time. Apparently you stood in place a second too long because a large man was not paying attention at the stop in traffic and bumped into your back causing you to trip and fall. As you stood back up and turned to face the cause of your fall he immediately began apologizing and saying he will buy you coffee or a pastry as his way of apologizing. Initially stunned by the sudden change in your position to seeing a large man practically on his hands and knees begging for your forgiveness for a small nudge was, admittedly, quite a scene to behold. You insisted that you were okay and there were no bruises or scratches, but he looked like a kicked puppy saying something about how he has harmed you and his mother and sisters will certainly skin him alive for not making it up to you. So you agreed to his offer of coffee, seeing as you do not have class for another hour and a half. On the walk over to the cafe you learn his name, Bokuto, and he is a starter for the men's volleyball team. 

~~

Everyone was staring at you now, waiting for an answer. You see the glints of love and true passion in Bukotos eyes; the same look he has when he plays volleyball. Why couldn’t you say anything? What was wrong with you? Here there is a man who loves you, and all you can do is just stand there. Thoughts of inadequacy swarm your mind; you’ll never be pretty enough, you’ll never be charismatic enough, you’ll never be enough for him. 

~~

  After getting coffee with Bokuto, he seemed to be part of your life. Initially it was small things like him asking you to study with him because he “gets distracted, and it is nice to have someone to keep him on track”. This typically ended with getting nothing done because of how easy conversations flowed with him. Eventually this turned into movie nights with his friends. By the end of that semester the two of you were practically inseparable. 

Sometime during the break you realized how you had grown to care for this large puppy of a man. Your days away from campus, as well as Bokuto, seemed more dreary, like something was missing. The days away made you truly notice an absence you didn’t know you could miss. Despite this, you still managed to have a relaxing break.

Bokuto was also stuck with his thoughts of you and what you were doing. He misses your smile and laugh, he misses how you would roll your eyes at some dumb joke he had made, but most of all, he misses how you care about him. Through high school he was used to girls flocking to him because of his volleyball talent, but none of them seemed to care about who he was as a person. You care about him as Bokuto Kotaro, not Bokuto Kotaro the volleyball powerhouse. You care about the little things, ensuring he stayed hydrated and made sure he always had someone cheering him on. He loved those things about you.

By the time you got back to campus and got fully moved into your new dormroom, Bokuto called and asked to get lunch because he was, as always, starving. By the end of the lunch you were sure Bokuto enjoyed your presence because of how he mentioned it at least five times when walking you home. As you get to your complex's door you debate inviting Bokuto in to watch a movie or something, but a small voice crept in saying that he probably had other, better things to be doing. So you bid him a farewell and went up alone. 

~~

As Bokuto stares at you with anticipation and nothing but adoration in his eyes staring into your own, you are at war with your insecurities. How could he want you in that way? It wasn't because you were the prettiest or because you were the most popular. It definitely wasn’t because you were the best at anything; what was it? You know he loves you, but honestly you don’t fully understand why. 

After about a minute of staring at you Bokuto began to feel a pit form in his stomach, a rare feeling for him that he wasn’t too familiar with. The last time this happened was when he asked you to go on a date with him; an actual date too, not the platonic hangout sessions from when you were first getting to know each other. Was it taking you so long to answer because you thought he wouldn't be a good husband? Was it because he can be forgetful and so focused on volleyball? Those couldn't be it, you always said that it was something you loved about him, his dedication and drive. Why weren’t you saying anything? What was holding you back?

~~

It had been one year since you met Bokuto, the start of your last year of university. Thursdays became takeout and movie night with him, just him; no one else because “I want to spend time alone with my best friend”. You thought it was sweet that he wanted to take time with just you, but it hurt when you assumed he didn’t see you romantically. You’d be stupid not to have a crush on him, he is so charismatic and funny, not to mention he looks like he was shaped by the gods, in contrast to his puppy like demeanor that would make a statue smile.

On one such Thursday Bokuto was antsy, more than normal. About a third of the way into your movie pick, you had to pause the movie. His fidgeting was getting on your nerves and you could no longer bear to ignore it. In response to you pausing, Bokuto just stared dumbly at you instead of saying anything. This was odd, there was seldom a time Bokuto was without words. 

“What’s your problem tonight?’ you asked, a little agitated. “We can change the movie if you’re not into it.” 

“I just...” He paused for a bit and continued, “ I um, I think I’d like to take you out.” You stared back just as dumbly at him for a bit. “ I don’t mean, like, kill you. I mean like a date… If you want…” You sat on his couch in one of his hoodies with Thai take-out in your lap while he thought this is something he wouldn’t mind seeing all the time. He impatiently awaited your answer, fidgeting with his hands. 

After what felt like an eon (a few minutes in actuality) you responded, “Really? Me?” It was strange to be asked out by someone who was like Bokuto. You weren't the typical drop dead gorgeous type athletes like him usually went after, at least in your own eyes. 

“Well, yeah… that’s why I asked you.” He stated very matter-of-factly. “Why wouldn't I want to date you? You know me, and still want to be my friend after I embarrassed myself at that party. You also still want to study with me even when I don’t know what’s happening, and you dont mind helping me with my classwork even though you’re taking more classes than me.” 

He went on like this for 5 minutes before you finally snapped out of your haze to interrupt him and respond. “I didn’t know you cared that much about me...” You sat on your words before landing on “Okay”. 

You thought you had broken the owlish man when that four letter word left your mouth. He just sat and stared at you before breaking out into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on him, this is including when he scored the winning point for nationals last spring. In an instant he was off of the couch, as were you, bouncing around the room shaking you along too. 

~~

Feeling the stares of your friends and his, you felt nauseous. You loved Bokuto, but could you accept this? What happens if it falls apart, could you live through that? What if a few years later he finds someone better than you, how could you live with that? You just stood there. Your legs felt as if they weighed a million pounds and your jaw a billion more.

Bokuto was freaking out because he was sure you’d say yes immediately. You’d talked about your futures after graduation and you said something along the lines of wanting him in your life forever. Did he misinterpret that? He got your dream ring from one of your friends who was kind enough to help him. What did he do to screw this up?

“I-I…” you took a breath, “I don’t know” you finished close to tears. After giving an answer you needed to get out, looking at Bokuto was painful because he was heartbroken and confused. You gathered your things and ran out of the restaurant.

Bokuto followed closely after you without grabbing anything. He ran a hand through his hair as he stepped out onto the sidewalk spotting you instantly.

He tentatively approached you as if you were a scared stray cat. “Hey… are you okay? What happened back there?” Bokuto was close to tears too, his usually bright eyes were so serious now. “Are you not ready for this? I thought that conversation after graduation meant you wanted this… I’m really sorry if I got that wrong.” He wouldn’t stop talking. You felt like actual garbage, here he was apologizing to you for what were your own inadequacies. 

“I’m not-” you take a breath, “I’m not good enough for this, or for you. You are a pro athlete, you’re way out of my league, and I’m just someone who fell in love with you. I am not special in any way, I’m not extraordinary, I’m just me.” You pause for a second before continuing, “You deserve so much better than me, you are amazing and deserve the universe, and I’m not that.”

“I don’t see it that way.” Bokuto said simply. “You’re amazing because you are you. I love the way you get focused and bite your lip when you do. I love the way you care for me and make sure I am taking care of myself. How you make the effort to know my friends and family.” He continued while holding your wrist as if to make sure you don’t vanish into nothing. “Most importantly, I love you because of how you love me.” He concluded with a huff, Bokuto was frustrated that he needed to tell you all of this, but if he had to repeat these affirmations to you over and over like a mantra he would without hesitation. 

“Are you sure?” You question, biting your lip and avoiding Bokuto's eyes that always seem to find yours. “Yes, of course, I wouldn’t say anything I didn’t mean” He answers immediately after. “I want you in my life for eternity and so much more.”