#MAYBE the male love interest cries at some point.

[sflow-er]

So many thoughts on the fabulous Barbie film, but especially on how anyone who thinks it’s “hateful towards men” clearly isn’t getting the message.

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

[Credit for both gifs goes to their makers!!]

I mean... Ken’s arc is secondary to Barbie’s, and rightly so. This is her film, and her message deserves to be the main takeaway.

That being said, I just find it really sad that the people who could’ve definitely used the point of Ken’s arc just let it go right over their heads. Maybe it’s because they aren’t great at reading subtext, or because they just balk at anything presented as feminist, I don’t know.

Because to me, Ken’s arc is about as far from “hateful towards men” as you can get. It’s a multi-layered depiction of how restrictive, outdated views of masculinity can hold men back and make them susceptible to harmful ideologies that promise easy solutions for all their problems but only make those problems worse and hurt others around them.

The first layer is an allegory for real men don’t show their feelings. In the movie, this is represented by Ken’s need to look tough and cool all the time, and to keep his insecurities and sadness bottled up. Barbieland is a utopia where being happy is a social norm, and the main Barbie also starts to struggle with that. The difference is that she eventually tells her friends, and they all support her. Ken just puts pressure on himself not to look weak - in front of Barbie, or in front of the other Kens.

Which brings us to the second level: a competitive and inherently hostile view of the other Kens, aka. toxic male relationships. Some of them are friends, and all of them work together for a while to build the Patriarchy, but they don’t actually bond for real. Even their boys’ nights are mainly about getting back at the Barbies for all their girls’ nights (which really were about bonding). When push comes to shove, the Kens still see each other as competition, which is one of the reasons why the Barbies are able to play them against each other.

Another reason is the third layer: the idea that Ken only has value if Barbie loves and admires him. It starts out as unrequited love that makes you feel sorry for him...until he turns bitter. He basically starts on the path that could lead him down the incel/mra rabbit hole and into a mindset where Barbie owes him love and admiration and the relationship he wants in exchange for his devotion to her. He decides that everything would be better if Barbies were subservient to Kens, but of course that’s not true. None of the Barbies’ newfound admiration for their Kens is real, and his own Barbie still rejects him.

All this is of course underpinned by the final layer, which is Ken’s lack of self-respect and sense of purpose. He’s got a pointless job, he’s not particularly qualified for anything, and he just feels kind of lost in Barbieland - a society run by successful Barbies who are living up to their full potential. That’s why he gets so caught up in the idea of the Patriarchy, which is supposed to make him successful, get others to respect him, and give him a sense of purpose. (This can be generalised to all kinds of harmful ideologies in the real world, e.g. the alt-right movement.)

However, the success he achieves is superficial and not based on any real passion; he even admits that he wasn’t happy in his new position and already lost interest in the ideology. The (forced) respect of others does feel good for a while, but it only goes so far. At heart, the whole thing is still mostly about his feelings of inferiority and unrequited love for Barbie, and instituting this harmful new system did not resolve those for him.

So what does? In essence, breaking out of all these harmful patterns and internalising the idea that he is enough.

He ends up reflecting on his feelings, finally puts them to words (or rather, song and dance), and manages to connect with the other Kens through those feelings. He even cries in relief and acknowledges that it doesn’t make him weak. He and Barbie finally have a proper talk, he lets go of their (non-)relationship, and he listens when she says he needs to figure out his real self. He starts to see himself not through his job, his girlfriend, or even his competition with the other Kens, but as just Ken, who is enough.

I honestly can’t think of a less hateful message to send men and boys.

[nouearth]

baby-sitting for miguel o'hara. (part ii)

miguel o'hara x m!reader headcanons.

part i.

warnings: smut, perverted!miguel, top!miguel, soft!miguel at times!!, bottom!male reader, small!male reader, thoughts of sex, fantasy!sex, masturbation, humping, kinda domestic idk.

notes: it's been a long time coming. 💀 i honestly was struggling to find like a plot for the second part, or just how to move forward. lmao. but i hope this turned out okay???

—never again, miguel promised himself that night. 

—it had been a few weeks since he last jerked off to your briefs. the blue undergarment that he came into were thrown somewhere under his bed, far from his reach.

—and as tempting as it was to smell you again, he mustered up the courage to leave the stained fabric alone. 

—for good.

—miguel despised what he had become.

—settling his sex life on a lone piece of fabric, it was pathetic. 

—from dusk til dawn, you participated in a triathlon of his delirious state of mind and competed for several awards that would then be mediated by miguel. 

—had it been a real competition, he would’ve been fired for exhibiting extreme favoritism because you’d win all the trophies and medals.

—a ��helping hand’ award he would award you a few mornings ago, where he jerked off to the thought of you giving him a handjob during his lunch break.

—multiple ‘most improved’ awards for when you were able to throat his cock a little more than before.

—and another for when your ass was able to take miguel in without needing to pause or adjust for his size, even if the strain of your facial expressions told a different story.

—gagging in between moans, coughing out thick globs of spit, wincing in bittersweet pain when he pushed in, arching in complete pleasure when he pushed out.

—he loved the idea of watching and hearing you struggle because of his cock.

—though, it was only until recently when he began feeling a strong sense of guilt for portraying you in such a manner.

—it was a promotion at work that allowed his hours to be more flexible than before, and miguel utilized that to the fullest by spending every waking second with his daughter.

—and you.

—even when he came home early, he never sent you home.

—maybe it was the perfect opportunity to get one step closer into your pants.

—or maybe he wanted to get to know the babysitter that gabriella had taken an extreme liking to.

—get to know the babysitter that had somehow made miguel feel something more than simply lust.

—you hungry? you haven’t taken your eyes off of your thesis paper since i got here.

—hm...?

—that night, you’d look up at him with those bright eyes, that bright smile that latched onto miguel’s adam apple and made it hard for him to swallow. 

—it was as radiant as the first time he saw you. one wouldn’t be able to tell that you’ve been pulling all-nighters for the past few weeks.

—oh! i guess i’m a little hungry. i haven’t eaten since breakfast—

—breakfast? i told you that you could rummage through the pantries, right? you practically live here at this point.

—i know, i know! once i get in the zone, i kind of forget about everything… except for gabriella! it’s funny. as loud as her cries are, they’re kind of my savior right now.

—hm...

—it’s getting late, so i’ll just whip up something at home—

—no, stay. i’ll cook something.

—sir, you don’t have to—

—miguel’s chest swelled. that word again.

—i’m cooking. stay, or i’m firing you for wasting my ingredients.

—hey, unfair! pretty sure that’s a violation of our contract or something!

—it didn’t take long for it to become a regular occurrence.

—miguel would cook a late dinner for two, and he’d join you on the couch with a plate of what the limit of his culinary skills could whip up. 

—it wasn’t like this every day, but it was often, which was more than what miguel could ask for.

—he would use the little time he had with you to learn about you more. your interests, your background, your passions, your personality, and you’d do the same. 

—on some nights, he’d proof-read your thesis paper and provide some feedback that you would immediately take in consideration and make the changes to your paper.

—on many nights, he’d simply close your laptop and force you to take a break because as alluring as those recent eye bags were, your health was a priority.

—stay for the night. it’s late.

—i’m almost done for the night! i just have a few more—

—nope, you’ve used up all your excuses. i’m confiscating this.

—where am i even supposed to sleep?!

—and on those many nights, you’d end up sleeping on miguel’s couch despite the persistent offers of his comfier bed.

—there would be times where you two would chat into the night while the tv played in the background. 

—you’d ask each other about your day, tell stories about gabriella, bond over shared interests, fueled debates over a quality of a certain movie, until fatigue hit either you or miguel.

—usually you were the first one to fall asleep, and he would watch you silently.

—the flickering lights from the tv would accentuate your features in the night, and he never knew he could find you even more handsome.

—your complete vulnerability was enticing. 

—you would curl into the blanket he’d given you, and miguel would take the time to count the seconds it would take for you to exhale your dreams.

—the longer it was, the deeper you were into your sleep.

—it wouldn’t be until thirty exhales more that miguel would send himself to bed.

—five seconds, miguel would find himself mimicking the pattern of your breath before he drifted off into the night.

—then there would be nights where the subject matter would be more personal, more than miguel would have liked.

—does it get lonely sometimes?

—i’d be lying if i said no. not all the time, though. i have gabriella.

—huh…

—is that why you’re a complete grump all the time?

—watch it.

—i’m kidding! good thing you have me too, right?

—yeah.

—good thing i have you too… miguel sighed heavily at the empty side of his bed, staring into the darkness until the shadows from the night had forged a shape of your body.

—he closed his eyes when he felt a whisper of your lips near his, barely ghosting over his pair, and stroke himself to the possible reality of you becoming his. 

—fuck... he then lied on his stomach and began humping into the bed, against the bed sheets, and held the imagination of your body close to his own, protecting you like his life depended on it.

—i need you… miguel pressed his face into the pillow, inhaling the memory of your shampoo as he polished his hips further into the bed. 

—his cock rubbed in between his body and the soft sheets as he’d imagine unsheathing himself in and out of you at a slow yet steady pace.

—because he needed to savor you.

—he would imagine how you’d respond with every thrust. 

—your words would glue to your throat because you’d be too overwhelmed by his size, by the pleasure that miguel would finally be delivering to you, by the doting hold around you, and with the aid of his hips, your words would like crystallized honey.

—miguel would push his cock into you deeper, taking in the sound of your voice into his with a warm kiss. — i— 

—you would draw out sounds from your throat until they were practically begs when miguel would pull out excruciatingly slow to tease, then a demand as he would doubt your confession by cautiously following the outline of your pucker with the tip of his cock.

— need—

—his hips would lift, then come down onto you like hail. hard and sudden as his cock would ram into your tight fill, knock your breath back into the tight of your throat.

— you— 

—you need him. 

—miguel could tell from the way you completed allowed him to invade your reserve until he was balls-deep inside of you. 

—from the way he’d pull out once more and your hole would memorize the shape of his cock, down to his thick girth. puckering to the recollection of his throbbing veins.

—and he’d be the one to bridge the puzzle pieces together as he would press himself forward and bend your legs back before slamming his cock back into you  with the delirious evocation of lust.

—you would stifle your moans into your forearm as the bed rocked to the strong rhythm of miguel’s thrusts, but he’d pull your arms away and hold your wrists above your head.

—he needed to hear you.

—hear how much you wanted him, how much you needed him.

— i’m going to come—

—you’d grunt in between the heavy and sticky sounds of your skin colliding against one another, into the thick air that you and miguel had mutually forged together. 

—his other hand had been wrapped around your cock, jerking the throbbing muscle to every count of his balls bouncing off your bottom. 

—he would squeeze and stroke, your pre-cum coming down in thick drips, and he would thumb at the slippery wet slip until the pad of his thumb was layered in your thick substance.

—until his fist was covered in a glorious amount of your warm cum, inking him deep with your devotion before feeding you of your own need. 

—he would bring his hand up to you and slip two fingers inside of your mouth. your tongue would slowly roll over his cum-covered digits, sucking the bittersweetness off of him.

—it wouldn’t be long until it would be miguel’s turn. 

—miguel would continue bringing the remaining fingers up to your mouth for you to cleanse him off, and it would be enough for him to have him in shambles.

—imagining you devour your own sweet lust until all five of his fingers were polished clean awakened him to another level of pure ecstasy, and miguel groaned, rocking desperately into his bed.

—your warm hands would all over his toned body, fueling the tension in his stomach as you would prioritize the center of his abdomen.

—fuck, come in me—

—miguel would his weight onto you, his large body practically devouring you in sheer size as the heat and sweat confined you to the parameters, and he’d hold you close once more by slipping his arms around you.

—a cycle of thrusts quickened every round and you held onto him. kissing at the side of his neck. suckling at the round of his shoulder. 

—i’m coming… he muttered to himself, to no one but the wrinkled sheets beneath him, and fucked his cock harder into his bed.

—and when you heard a shudder coming from the depths of miguel’s strained throat, you licked a stripe at the center of his throat to pacify him, making your way to the plush of his lips, and kissed him at the pivot of his climax.

—miguel would exhale hard against your mouth before kissing you and spilling delirious moans into the captivity when he would begin flooding your insides with his thick and warm cum. 

—heavy ropes would ricochet off your violated inside, but miguel would press into you closer, harder, and intimately so, until your foreheads were bruised into one another.

—in occurring reality, miguel painted his bed sheets in thick layers of warmth and musk. layers of cum wetting his bed as he desperately held onto his fantasies with sensitive rolls of his hips.

—his tongue would tangle into yours, practicing a slow, sensitive waltz as his softening cock would sink deep into your hole. 

—and you would moan and suckle around him as you felt every drop of cum warm you from the inside and out, shielding you from the goosebumps that would frost your skin.

—the kiss would remain its passionate dance as you both relaxed into each other. your legs unwrapped to tangle into miguel’s, expertly lifting the blanket over your feet in the process. 

—he would hold you tighter once he broke the kiss, turning you on your side as he lied flat on his back. 

—your head would rest on his chest after pulling the remaining blanket up to your bodies and you would sigh, suddenly feeling drowsier with miguel’s warm caress aiding sleep against your back.

—for the remaining moment, he would gaze at the sheen of sweat that highlighted the flush of your skin. 

—he would listen to the beat your heart, slowly coming to its resting pace as you succumb to sleep under the spell of his doting touch.

—and he would strangely feel a need to hold you, shelter you inside of his arms because he feared something would happen to you.

—fuck.

—miguel quickly rolled back onto his back in the midst of catching his breath, the shadows that had formed the image of you unfurling into obscurity. 

—he felt his heart race, bullets rebounding off the beating surface like a drum, and he placed a hand over his chest to pacify at the sudden swell of his chest. —i think i love you.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

Could I ask for some yandere alucard post season 3 with a s/o that isn't human or only part human? Like being half fae, nymph or siren. I just think the dynamics of that relationship would be quite different then say if the object of his obsession was human given his lack of faith in humanity in season 3s aftermath

A/N: I LOVE this question! It was so interesting to think about all the different ways the MC could be half-human and have that connection with Alucard. I did end up going with a mermaid/siren sort of creature as the original asker did send in an additional ask clarifying how they could picture this abused mermaid girl feeling kinship with Alucard because of his current distrust of humans, and I liked that element. I also chose a siren / mer create as they have abilities to manipulate/hypnotize their prey, an ability Alucard probably has as well with him being half-vampire. I ended up writing a very long outline in bullet points but felt that it didn't quite flow for HC, so I instead broke it up into smaller scenes below. I hope that’s ok. Sorry, it took so long. I was sick with some weird virus for weeks (lowkey feel like it’s mono or something), and could only handle work and family crap, like I barely had any motivation to live. And then when I started writing this, it sort of took on a life of its own lol. (What can I say? I love me some Alucard.) 

Anon also suggested I check out this manga- it’s called Becoming the Villain's Family and it’s about a siren who goes back in time and makes a marriage pact with a devil to prevent their untimely fates. I’m not a huge manga reader, but my sister is, so I’m going to recommend it to her and maybe we can read it together. 

Yandere! Alucard (Post-S3) w/ A Half-Siren S/O 

The fair creature did not see quite how it happened, for it had all transpired too fast. A deep guttural growl echoed from past the tree line, well beyond the corners of her vision as the very ground beneath the wagon’s feet began to shake violently. As swiftly and silently as a flash of lightning, the wagon she resided in was sliced in half, the metal cage that kept her prisoner acting as her only guard against an elongated talon from some sort of monster. The cage was tossed sideways, skittering along the dirt ground as the poor mer creature inside flipped over violently, her dehydrated human form and lack of clothing sending her soft, nearly translucent skin into the square welds hard enough to form bruises. 

“Retrieve the asset!” 

“Don’t let her escape!” 

“Are you crazy?! Fuck the asset!” 

Around her, a flurry of mixed male voices shouted out contradictory directions. With only the setting sun for light, it was difficult to make out who had yelled what. 

Then came more growls in addition to all the shouting. Then the shouting turned into screaming. And a handful of those screams turned into cut-off cries followed by loud squelching. A flurry of slices and swings from blades and swords interrupted what must have been the creature's onslaught, but it would certainly not last long. There would be more torn flesh, and more final yells- a final symphony of bloodshed to follow. 

Kneeling into an upright position, the fair mer creature pushed and pulled frantically against the metal door of her cage. The hinges had warped in the fall, bending just so, that if enough force was applied…

With a metallic screech, the young water maiden could kick her cage door from its battered hinges. Fortunately enough for her, none of her captors seemed to notice her imminent freedom, the lot of them busy battling hideous creatures beyond any comprehensible amalgam or imagination. 

Unfortunately for her, her sudden movement did not go unnoticed by one such creature. 

A smaller, fiendish-looking thing, with the body of a lizard, but the head of a vulture, and the tail of a scorpion mawed loudly at her, its stinger striking warningly at the ground. 

Not needing to be told twice, the young maiden leaped up and made a mad dash for the treeline on the other side of the clearing, opposite the line of creatures. 

As she made it past the treeline she watched as one of her imprisoners struck successfully at the rear of the small fiendish creature with the sharp end of a spear. It cut roughly into the monster’s backside, turning the horrid thing’s attention away from her back onto her captors. 

Pausing for a mere second, she took one last look at the few men still alive, fighting for their lives against the horrible creatures. Even if they were to win the fight, she swore it would be the last time she saw them. Beasts or no beasts, she was never losing her freedom again. 

✧ ✧ ✧

The bottoms of her feet stung with every step, and her calves burned worse every time she jumped over branches, landing on uneven ground. Her thighs were practically numb from the midseason cold, and her time forced to rest on the cold metal bars of her prison certainly did not help. But she refused to stop running. Even if she was unfamiliar with the practice of traveling upright on two extremities, she perished the thought that her inexperience might slow her down. She could not fail. She could not yet rest. Whoever won the fight between her captors and the creatures was certain to follow after her once the battle was done. She could not waste precious time. So despite pain and exhaustion, she pushed onward. 

After what felt like an eternity, although, if she were to judge by the moon, it must have only been a few hours, she found her legs could no longer support her weight, as her knees buckled beneath her, slipping on the soft embankment ground. 

‘Embankment?’ The maiden, feeling a final surge of hope, strained her neck to get a better look. It did appear that she had made it to a river bank, although it was a rather small one at that. Still, the sight felt like a miracle. It had been too long since her body was submerged, snug, within her element’s embrace. And given the choice between breathing her last breaths on the cold dry forest ground, or under a river’s soft current, she’d choose the river, any day. 

Using her arms to pull herself into the cold water, she breathed one final breath of chilled night air before slinking into the river water. Closing her eyes, the young maiden had but one thought: 

‘If this is to be my final resting place, then so be it.’ 

✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning started the same way all mornings do: the sun rose in the sky, the birds and bugs began their daily chirps, and a very forlorn-looking Adrian Tepes, known currently as Alucard, son of Dracula exited his castle in search for food, his usual basket in hand. Unusual however were the two corpses that greeted him as he passed the castle steps. 

Alucard paid the bodies no mind, he didn’t once glance in either of their directions. He kept his eyes forward, locked onto the foliage and wildlife hidden within the forest line choosing to pretend the bodies were no longer there. Yes, he knew they were there. Of course, he knew. He was the one to string them up after all. But if he were to acknowledge the corpses' presence, then he would also be required to acknowledge the circumstances that led them to be staked there, and that was something not even the great slayer of Dracula could do. So instead Alucard did what he could: he adjusted the basket in his arms and began mentally preparing the meal he would make. 

Coming to the river bank, Alucard felt something was off. He sensed another presence nearby. Kneeling down to the water, he kept his ears open for any movement within the trees but did not hear any. 

‘Odd.’ The dhampir waited for a spell before resuming his usual activities. He methodically removed his boots, before rolling up the ends of his pants, as he prepared to wade into the river. He had found a comfortable position, balanced on the river rocks below his feet when he noticed another oddity. 

“Where have all the fish gone?” 

The river, once teeming with fish, ones even brave enough to stick around as he waded into the water, were nowhere to be seen. Besides the rushing of water over the river bank, Alucard could not hear them swimming around within the water below. 

Turning his head, he found a single glint of scales reflecting the morning’s rays a few meters from where he had been standing. But just one fish? Or perhaps, a damn of some kind was preventing them from moving freely. Alucard made a move to investigate closer. But then, just as he turned to do so, what appeared to be an incredibly large fish leaped out of the river, and flopped onto the bank. It writhed around, flopping this way and that before rolling over to face him. It was at that moment Alucard realized why all the other fish had disappeared. There was no damn, no net. It was because of this… this creature. 

✧ ✧ ✧

The young mermaid awoke with a start, the deep echo of footsteps underwater had vibrated her awake. From where she lay, her vision was obscured, but she could make it out that the being was human in nature, standing on two legs, with only two arms to boot. It did not possess any claws or animal characteristics like any of the night creatures from the night before, nor did it appear to resemble any of the men who had taken her. 

The maiden stayed as still as stone, hoping this new strange human would grow bored of waiting for a meal to catch, turn around, and go home. But luck, as it had proven time and time again as of late, was not on her side. 

The man made a move towards her position, and she found she could not help the fear that bubbled up from inside her chest. The river was too small for her to swim through. More so, moving within the water would only create splashes to further catch this stranger’s attention. If she wanted to get away, she’d need to shift back to her human form and make yet another run for it on foot. 

Using the strength her long waterlogged rest had given her, she propelled her body out of the water, onto the river bank. As soon as her full body was on land, she writhed and wriggled, doing all she could to shake the excess water from her body. 

Her earlier set of legs had once again merged into a fishtail, strong and thick, with grooved fins to match. Her abdomen and chest were plated with scales all up the sides. And as she shook herself dry, several of those scales slid off her body into the dirt. Her ears, previously flesh and pointed more like an elf’s, had pulled back, with loose tentacle-like fins spouting out around their outer shell. In the daylight, she knew there was no mistaking what she was. But if she was to change her form quickly, it was a risk she needed to take. 

Despite the morning's warm sun, her body did not dry as fast as she had hoped. The maiden used her arms, and her now-clawed fingers to pull herself up further, finally gaining purchase on one bark of a tree, as she did her best to twist around and face this stranger head-on. 

Letting out a hiss, she bore her fangs at the strange blonde man standing before her. Only the man did not seem intimidated, nor shocked to see a creature such as herself. If anything, he appeared, at ease. Was this perhaps a trap? She hissed again but found herself on the side of surprise when the seemingly human man bared his own set of fangs and hissed back. 

✧ ✧ ✧

‘A mermaid?’ Alucard watched, amused, as the young creature did her best to appear menacing to him. If only she knew, how instead of fear, Alucard felt a rush of reassurance at the sight of her inhuman features. 

‘Humans,’ he thought bitterly. It was two humans who had hurt him most of all. Not even his own father’s war on humanity had harmed him the way those two did. His father left him for dead paled in comparison to the shame and torment he carried with him from that one night.  

Had a human shown their face on his property, he’d… Well, Alucard was not certain what he would do should they refuse his order to leave. But whatever he decided, it would not be a fate any would enjoy, that’s for certain. 

Thankfully, with the very distinct mer-features of this individual, that point was moot. He did not need to threaten disembowelment or an eternity of torture as a spawn, Alucard felt no such need to. 

He took a step closer, taking in her unique features. Her eyes were large and dark, almost pure pools of black. He could feel the pull luring him in closer the longer he looked into them. Her skin was almost opaque, despite its color. At certain angles, rays of the morning sun seemed to shine through her body, as opposed to around it. And her tail, no doubt the most impressive of her peculiarities, glinted impressively, making her an almost otherworldly mirage against the browns and greens of the surrounding greenery. 

Of course, no sooner than Alucard could admire such an ethereal sight, her tail began to lose some of its luminescence, growing duller by the second. The previously shiny scales that overlapped each other began to flake off, one by one. Down the middle of her tail, from where her belly button would have been on her abdomen had she been a human, what scaled skin remained began to crack, viscously, like a deep fissure that would not heal. The fissure continued to grow in depth and width as Alucard came within feet of her. 

She hissed for a second time at his forward movement, but Alucurd was undeterred. Smiling a sort of melancholy smile, he paused before opening up his maw, revealing his impressive fangs with a hiss of his own.

At his revelation, the creature’s demeanor changed abruptly. Gone was the fear and hatred in her eyes, instead replaced by a much more benevolent wonder. 

She opened her mouth, the tentacles around her ears shriveling into themselves, her ears changing to a more elven point as they came to rest flatter against her head. Alucard watched as her fangs dissipated too, the sharp canine points rounding themselves down into very simple humanoid-looking teeth. The back of her throat opened and closed, but very little sound came out. If she was trying to communicate, it seemed a verbal conversation was currently off the table. 

“I am Alucard Tepes, son of Dracula and Lisa Tepes.” Alucard spoke, taking the lead for her. “And I am not human.” 

The mermaid closed her eyes as she leaned back against the tree bark, wincing once or twice as a very slime-covered, human-looking bottom half cracked free from the dried shell of her former tail. She used her hands to pull the husks away from her body, leaving every bit of her person on display. 

Alucard cleared his throat before deciding to remove his shirt and give it to her. He tossed the white shirt to the maiden who caught it in one hand. Bringing it in to smell, she sniffed it before looking back at him curiously. 

“If you wish to spend the walk back to my castle naked, I won’t stop you. But as I’m sure you’ve learned, people up here spend most of their life clothed.” 

She turned her head in the opposite direction as if to say, ‘So?’ before ultimately relenting, pulling the white top over her head. 

Making a move to stand, her legs wobbled, giving out underneath her. But before she could fall, by the grace of his vampiric speed, Alucard managed to catch her, one of his arms looping under hers around her shoulder. Upon noticing the sudden conflict, the mermaiden hissed again but made no move to shove him off. Making another choked-off sound, from the back of her throat, she tried speaking again. 

“Ghhank hou.” Frowning, she cleared her throat before trying again. “Thgank cou,” her voice was quiet, and yet deep and guttural at the same time as if she was holding back. 

“So you can speak,” Alucard commented as he helped her walk a distance, finding her balance. 

The young maiden nodded, before shaking her head. “Youg may naught want mee too.” She blinked her large, dark eyes at him, pointing to them, them down to her throat as she did so. “Sssighh-rhen.” 

Alucard paused his walking, staring his golden orbs back at her. In the light, the mermaid watched as they glittered and shined, an almost metallic color, reminiscent of pirates’ gold, lulling her into a sense of security. She gave off a warning growl, having caught on to the fact that she was not the only one with influential abilities. Alucard blinked twice, breaking off the trance. 

“As I said before,” he reiterated, leading the way back to his castle, “I am not human.” 

The mermaiden watched him, as an almost smirk graced her inhumanely beautiful face. “Gooodd,” she hissed out. 

✧ ✧ ✧

“That is how the castle came to be in my possession.” 

Alucard led the young mermaiden down the many hallways and corridors of the castle, telling her the story of how he, along with Belmont and Sypha, were tasked with defeating Dracula. He stopped to point out various rooms along the way, the ones he was the most familiar with, anyway. There was still much of the castle that felt foreign to him. It was as if he walked the rows of a graveyard, rarely stopping to notice yet another name on a tombstone. How many hands had helped build this place? How much of their blood was shed to gather all the infinite knowledge and wealth that was kept here? Alucard did not know. Nor was he certain he wanted to know. 

Walking past the various debris and carnage still left from their battle with Dracula, Alucard ushered her into his father’s former study, now his study. In the middle of the room sat one large rather ornate chair, placed before a cracked fireplace. In the chair was a crumbled blanket and pillow. On the small table next to it, a cold long-forgotten cup of tea. The items together suggested this chair was used in recent days for sleeping, not for sitting and reading or studying of any sort. 

The mermaiden narrowed her eyes at that. Surely, even with this battle, Alucard claimed had taken place within his home, there were bedrooms and living quarters left unbothered. Why would someone in possession of such a grand and luxurious home sleep sitting up in a chair? Or perhaps, was it a question of biology, not psychology? Did a being like Alucard require sleep at all? 

As the mermaiden contemplated, Alucard kneeled down to start a fire, but not before vaguely gesturing at the crack that ran up the front brick of the fireplace. “As you can see, the fight was not limited to one area or room.” 

“Bprokeghn,” the mermaid nodded before gesturing herself to the chair and blanket set-up. “Behd?” 

Alucard cleared his throat, as he stoked the beginning flames of the fire. “My room was… damaged, yes.” 

Seemingly content with that answer, the mermaiden turned her attention to other parts of the room. 

Off to the right there were various bookshelves and texts. And on the left? A modest oak desk sat under a large painting of a beautiful woman. Her hair was golden, almost appearing to glow under the warm hue of the fire’s dancing light. Her eyes were large and hopeful, and her size petite but strong. In her hand, she held a white flower, although its beauty paled in comparison to hers, it was a lovely touch against the dark maroon dress she was wearing. 

“Prehty,” she said, stopping to admire the woman in the painting. 

Upon hearing her words, Alucard looked up, a soft smile having formed on his face. “Yes,” he said. “She was beautiful.” 

Glancing back at the man, the mer creature noticed his hair was blonde and rather lovely as well. Not as gorgeous as her own siren’s locks of course, but that was understandable. She pointed to the hair of the woman in the painting before pointing to her own, and then finally, to his. “Prehty too.” 

✧ ✧ ✧

From where he stood in the kitchen, Alucard watched amusedly as the young woman tried taking a bite of her grossly undercooked fish using a knife and fork, stifling a laugh every time she would manage to grip one utensil only to drop the other. Her less-than-human approach to everyday things made Alucard feel at ease. She was not a lying, conniving human he had to watch out for, she was not biding her time waiting to stab him in the back. Quite the contrary: she was blunt and rather oblivious to human social conventions. 

She had very little reservations when it came to nudity, Alucard had come to discover. If it wasn’t for his polite, insistence, she would have continued to roam the castle naked. Dwelling deep underwater made her rather immune to things like catching a chill. Alucard was similar, he did not feel the cold the way humans did, although he was not entirely immune to it. He would surely suffer frostbite should he choose to venture outside in the dead of winter without any clothes on his back. However, unlike a human, and more like a vampire, it would take more than freezing exposure to do him in. 

It was almost comforting in a way, to share the castle with someone who’s biology was surprisingly close to his. She was more unhuman than human most days, her residual scales and sharp claw-like nails coming back once her body had returned to full-health. Her teeth had also increased in length, although Alucard suspected she could control their sharpness at will to some degree, her opting to keep her incisors short and squared, more human-like, whenever the two would talk walks around outside the castle. 

The mermaiden also had an interesting diet. She preferred her food cold, if not raw. Even things like fish and other meats, she refused to eat properly cooked. Alucard briefly recalled the first time he had tried to offer her dinner. He steamed her fish the same way he steamed his, and presented it to her, expecting gratitude. It was humourous now, but back then he recalled being rather dissatisfied with her indignant reaction. She hissed, and berated him for serving her something ‘burnt’, or ‘burrrnt’ as she had called it. 

Alucard discovered it was less of a preference and more of a requirement when he found her eagerly licking the blood from a freshly killed and skinned hare he had fetched for dinner. It seemed that she, like him, and like the many other supernatural creatures, had a penchant for blood that was born out of a necessity, and not mere cruelty. With her diet of raw and bloody food, her skin appeared healthier- still as shiny and translucent, but less gray. Her human form’s skin was less cakey and dry, and when she did change back into her tailed form, which was rather often given how much she enjoyed lounging in one of the castle’s large communal baths, her scales shed much less than they had when they first met. Upon her initial arrival at the castle, Alucard found she’d leave scales behind her wherever she walked, the same way a lover might lay out a trail of rose petals. Of course in this case, there was no intimate surprise waiting for him behind closed doors (not that he’d want one given his past circumstances, anyway), but a very brash and temperamental half-siren, usually impatiently awaiting yet another “useless” lesson in human conventions. 

“Naught fun-ie,” she hissed, under her breath, well aware of Alucard’s amusement. “No need for toools underwater.” She dropped both her knife and fork unceremoniously onto her plate before crossing her arms, looking like a wilful toddler. 

“There’s no one to impress here,” Alucard assured her. “Besides, even without a fork and knife I’m sure you eat like a magistrate compared to Belmont. The rodents outside have more manners.” 

“Belmonnt,” the fair maiden repeated, picking up her fish with her bare hands. “Frrend.” 

“Yes. Although, I haven’t seen him or Sypha for quite some time.” Alucard answered, just a hint of loneliness creeping into his voice. 

“Hadd frend wonss.” Biting into her fish, she tore a chunk of flesh off with her teeth, a satisfied groan leaving her body as some of the excess moisture dribbled down her chin. “Huumann too.” She swallowed her bite of fish down, not bothering to chew much at all. “Dyed.” She licked her lips in satisfaction. “Beectraaid.” 

“Wherever humans are concerned, such possibilities are never in short supply.” Alucard agreed, handing her a cloth napkin to wipe her chin. “It is their nature.” 

Choking down the rest of her fish, the mermaiden swallowed harshly again before asking, “Owtsighed?” Of course, the two giant stakes housing decayed corpses had not escaped her notice on their way inside. 

Alucard retrieved her empty plate, moving to place it in the sink. Closing his eyes, he desperately tried not to remember the feel of the silver cords burning his skin, the way he suffocating under Taka and Sumi’s gaze, how if it were not for his sword and the magical component of it, it’d be his body flayed and strung up outside instead of theirs. Despite not having had anything to chew or eat, Alucard swallowed hard as well. 

“Yes,” he finally said.  

✧ ✧ ✧

“Where are wee going?” The mermaiden asked, her vocabulary and annunciation having improved much over the last couple of weeks. 

Dressed in a relatively sheer nightgown and robe, the young woman begrudgingly followed Alucard, already dressed for the day, as he led her over to the remains of the Belmont hold. Upon reaching the cleverly designed pulley system, Alucard lifted the safety bar of the lift and gestured for her to get in. 

The young mer woman bared her teeth but did not hiss, a vast improvement of manners and trust on her part. 

“You may recall in the past, I’ve mentioned a man named Belmont, Trevor Belmont.” Alucard set the bar back down, clicking it into place, before pulling one of the levers to begin their descent. 

She nodded. “Friend. Miss him.” 

Alucard furrowed his brow. “I do not believe I’ve once said I missed his company.” 

The young woman shrugged her shoulders, a form of nonverbal human communication she had recently picked up on. “Still,” she wagged a finger, disapprovingly. “Can tell. No want to be alone.” 

Having reached the bottom of the lift, Alucard secured the platform before exiting, seemingly eager to remove himself from their current conversation. “I speak his name frequently because he has gifted me a rather large piece of his family’s inheritance for safekeeping. Without my permission, I might add.” 

Flicking a large switch on the wall, the mermaiden watched in awe as hundreds of blue flames suddenly sparked alight, illuminating an expansive cavern of towered rows and rows of books and other meticulously organized collections. 

“This,” Alucard extended his arm out, showcasing the vastness of the space before them, “Is the Belmont Hold. It possesses all the knowledge the Belmonts learned on creatures of the night, the collection starting generations ago. Everything any Belmont learned has been recorded onto paper, and stored somewhere within these tomes.” 

Temporarily blindsided by excitement, the mermaiden found herself quickly making her way down several sets of stairs, her balance thankfully having improved tenfold, as she ignored the darker implications of Alucard’s words. 

“So much boooks!” She cried out, settling on entering a random upper row of tomes, pulling one out of the shelf. “So much papper!” 

Alucard nodded, coming to join her. “I take it your people do not have much use for such records underwater?” 

The young mer woman nodded, running her clawed fingers delicately over the inked pages. “Runes. Maghik. No paper.” 

Carefully, Alucard took the book from her hands and placed it back onto the shelf where it belonged. Before the mermaiden could bare her teeth or hiss at him in irritation he had already begun climbing down a nearby ladder, calling for her to follow. “Come. The books are impressive, but they are not what I wish to show you.” 

Reaching the lowest level before her, Alucard smiled softly as his eyes were met with the familiar scene of a magic mirror, and open chest. How strange to think he and his friends stood on this very ground when Sypha successfully managed to summon the castle. How strange to think right there, under his feet, was where Adrian Tepes died and Alucard of Wallachia truly began. 

There was a time when Alucard believed he and he alone would be the one to ever stand upon this, practically hallowed ground. Belmont was not yet sure if he wished to resume the responsibilities of his namesake. And Sypha, well, Sypha had chosen to follow Belmont in whatever trouble he managed to get himself into. Who knows if they would be back, if they ever intended on coming back? At the end of their journey, there was Alucard, left alone to shoulder the burden of both their families’ legacies. 

Trevor had told him not to make the castle his grave, but to use it and the hold to… help people. Such a task seemed near impossible when you were one dhampir, isolated far away from the rest of the world. But then, Alucard reflected, along came Taka and Sumi, and perhaps, he had once thought, he would no longer have to be alone. 

They were so eager to learn, but they were also so eager to leave. They did not come intending to stay, Alucard knew this, and yet, he could not help the way he drew their lessons out, making sure to be as detailed as possible. If they must go, he supposed, he could make it so they did not leave for a while. It was foolish to think his desires would go unnoticed by the two humans. More foolish perhaps, to expect them to understand. Alucard had been wrong. 

They sensed he was less than forthcoming, Alucard could not deny that was true. But he never lied, not once to them. But in their humanity, in their hurt and in their pain and guilt and anger they felt they were deceived. Perhaps deception was so readily on their mind because they had arrived with a plan to play him for a fool all along. 

Either way, it was fatal on their part. Alucard may have wanted them to stay, but he did not need them. They alleviated his loneliness, but they were not necessary companions, not like Trevor or Sypha. They were far too different, far too divested from the line of existence Alucard walked to ever truly understand him. Being human, they ignorantly believed themselves to possess so many options of their own, but as fate had proven: they too were wrong. 

But this young woman, this siren, this mermaid, she was different. She did not come seeking him, rather their meeting was entirely accidental. And this time, the playing field was even: she needed him just as much, if not more, than Alucard wanted her. It was different this time. Here, within the Belmont hold and his castle, she was the outsider. And no matter how long she stayed with him, no matter how hard she tried, she would remain less human than Alucard. Next to her, he was not a monster or a beast, no. 

At her side, he appeared solely as Wallachia’s savior, Alucard, and he was neither human nor monster. 

Coming back to the present moment, Alucard watched silently as the mermaiden approached the glass display case of vampire skulls. He watched as her eyes widened, and her fists clenched, before she spun around, her fangs bared. “Exsplain, now!” 

“The Belmonts hunted creatures of the night for centuries. They came to Wallachia hunting Dracula and his army of vampires.” 

“You said Belmont friend!” 

“He is- was. As I have said to you before, he aided me in my journey to defeat my Father Dracula, to prevent him from securing the extinction of the human race.” 

The mermaiden tilted her head to the side. “Buut why? You vampire.” 

“Not entirely,” Alucard countered. 

The mermaiden’s eyes squinted. “What?”

“The woman in portraits you’ve so admired within the castle, she was my mother, Lisa Tepes, and she was human.” 

Enraged, the mermaiden’s face contorted into an expression of anger, her nostrils flaring with every huff of air she took. “Liar!” She accused him, making her way around the side of the cabinet, trying to move past the dhampir without encountering him directly. “You said humans betrayed! You said not like them! You lie!” 

“I did not lie. I never told you I was wholly vampire, nor did I once say I was not part human.” Alucard mirrored her movement, cutting her off before she could reach the stairs. “I aided humanity only to be betrayed by humans. I do not belong in their world, nor do they belong in mine.” 

“Nor in minesss!” She snarled. “You human. Not friend. Not anymoresss.” Shoving past Alucard she began up the stairs before she felt a hand on her wrist yank her back. Whipping around, she found herself face to face with Alucard, his expression angry, his fangs elongated and on clear display. 

“And where will you go? Your human charade may not disturb me but it is bound to alert others. There is no city, no town where you could travel that they would believe you to be one of their own.” His voice was deep, dark, and full of disdain. 

“Then I go home,” she retorted. “With othersss like mee.” 

“Do you think they will accept you now you’ve lived with a human, lain with a human?” 

“Half,” she spit into his face before sneering: “Half huumannn.” 

Alucard did not even flinch, entirely unphased by her vulgar action. “Human nonetheless,” he said, the ice in his veins offset only by the golden fire in his eyes. “Not even they would welcome you back now. There is nowhere you can go, no one who would welcome you. I,” he spoke, baring his fangs, “am all you have left. I am the only one who understands.” 

The mermaiden opened her mouth to speak, but could not find the words. She closed her mouth before opening it again, still hesitant on how to respond. If it was not as serious of a moment, Alucard would have laughed: she truly looked like a fish out of water. 

Careful as not to spook her, he slowly raised one hand, using it to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen from her eyes. How strange a sight to see a siren crying, awful yet beautiful at the same time. Like him, Alucard thought. 

“You are the only one who could possibly understand me. You need not ever leave.” Alucard used his other hand to take one of her own, and guide it, resting it atop his chest. “I do not wish to be alone anymore.” 

The maiden choked back more tears, shocked she was shedding them in the first place in Alucard’s presence. 

Prior to those horrible humans taking her, tears were not something the mermaiden had ever experienced. Living underwater, she was surrounded by saltwater. Even on the occasions she was consumed by great emotion, her eyes behaved no different, felt no different than they did being in their usual full-contact with water as they were everyday. But after she was taken, she found the ability to cry, something she despised. It burned the skin of her cheeks with hot shame, her throat felt too tight for air: the process of crying was foreign, and undeniably painful. She prayed it would not become a normal occurrence for her. She swore the moment she was free of her captors, she would never shed a tear again. And then she met Alucard. And he was…

Sweet. He was kind. He was not an ignorant, vengeful human. Surely, he would not give her reason to cry. They were of the same kind, she and him. He would harbor no hate for her in his heart. 

How foolish of the girl to think hatred was the only feeling capable of creating pain, of making remorse. Afterall, ‘love’ was just as powerful. ‘Love’ was just as dangerous. 

Deep down, the young siren knew the dhampir’s words were true: there was nowhere else she could go, there was no one else who would understand her, and care for her the way he did. 

In fairness, he was not fully human, he was half vampire, and his father was the great Lord Dracula to boot. He was not simple in the way other humans were. He was not stupid in the way people were. He was educated and well-aware of the fragility of egos, the slow passing of time… He did not look at the world through a mortal lens. The mermaiden knew she could do worse, in choosing someone to trust, in picking someone to rely on. 

Then again, he was half-human. She was wise to fear him, to doubt him. He may have meant what he said, when he told her she need not leave, but that did not mean she needn’t want to. But she was so far from home, so far from more of her own kind. Who else left in this region ravaged by night creatures and monsters would open their home to her the way he had? Perhaps it was wiser to stay. 

Did she even possess a choice in the matter?

Even withIn the arms of that former stranger, she felt more forsaken than she had when those evil traders first captured her. She felt so alone… Gods… 

She, too, wished not to be alone anymore. 

“Ssstay.” 

“What?” Alucard’s head snapped up at the sound of her words. “Truly?” He could not help the hope that seeped into his voice. “You wish to stay with me?” 

Before him, the mermaiden nodded, yet another human expression she had come to love over the past few weeks. “Yessss,” she hissed out, her voice still nasally from her earlier tears. “I ssstay.” 

A/N: Holy shit! Almost 8,000 words here. And to think I did it all while fighting the worst virus of my life! (See, THAT just goes to show you how strong my love for Alucard is. 

Don’t forget to Like & REBLOG!!!

And if you enjoyed it, feel free to Tip Me on Kofi! 

[cleolinda]

A couple of days I had this overwhelming urge to talk about shit, so that happened. It was a good thing, maybe, and I’m #thankful for all your love and support. Anyone who said, “Things you wrote have helped me”—that’s why I write about personal things, like mental health and being bipolar as well. That’s entirely why. I truly believe that I am not alone in any human experience I have had, and I hope you can feel like that, too.

I realized that I did, in fact, talk about being bi here in 2015. I have no memory of this at all; I think it says a lot about the last 6-7 years that I didn’t even remember a time when I felt like I could say that.

So the post on Monday might have been superfluous after all, but I cried while writing it, so I guess that tells you I needed it. I’m not a crier, is the worst of it. I cry like three times a year. My backed-up Tear Concentrate burns like xenomorph acid. I don’t care for that shit at all. But it was kind of a good cry? Emotions, why do we have them.

As a point of interest, I still didn’t know I was sapphic bi when I was angry about the LGBT storylines in NBC’s 2013 Dracula series, which I recapped for a while. I was especially furious about Lucy’s bisexual “let me come out to Mina so she can throw me out into the street” arc, and I’m seeing some things about myself in the rearview mirror there. Also I will never forgive the show writer who was congratulating himself for having “real” storylines about how difficult it is to be LGBT, which included the horrible deaths of a gay male couple. Fuck off. We don’t need your “help.”

I absolutely did know when I was raging about The Magicians (when was this, 2019?). I believe I even said I was bi in the post about that, but talking about myself wasn’t the point there, and I don’t know how many people saw it. Those show writers, also, can fuck off into the sun, and I hope the sun tells them to fuck off as well.

I don’t know that I’ve ever been this blunt, this harsh about how angry I am. I’m usually very diplomatic. But this shit has consequences. I don’t cry often, but I cried in 2014 at the realization that I “couldn’t” be “normal” and straight, in the year before I came to love being normal and queer. Stories like Lucy’s are, subconsciously, why I would cry like that, why I would feel horrified at the idea of being myself. (Which I will write about later.) And that’s just the small way media effects me. We are seeing, in real time in the US now, the rippling consequences of insisting ever more hatefully that LGBTQIA people don’t get to be happy. As far as I can tell, media is crawling towards being better in the last few years. I wouldn’t know; I don’t invest much of myself in TV anymore.

I did not intend for this to be an angry post, but here we are. Maybe that’s why it feels different and even necessary to go through all of the “did I mention I’m queer” business again seven years later. I’m here and I’ve gone feral about it. Being angry right now feels like community. Wrath Month.

I am going to keep writing about some of the things I thought and went through during the year(s) I was figuring this out, because I think these experiences were weird and absurd—and recognizable. This is my blog now, welcome to hell. And happy Thanksgiving.

[eldritch-horror-from-the-void]

big mood on the lack of dom!reader x maul. like listen. look at him. pegging that man until he cries would fix me.

UGGHHHEFOIJOIJFEWOIJF

Thank god someone else thinks this way! Almost everyone thinks he's a dom, which is fine, but I don't understand why it's as popular as it is. Idk, maybe it's just a difference of taste in characterization.

More 18+ below cut, kinda just me rambling and throwing out sexy/kinky headcanons.

I could see Sav being dominant, to a very small degree, anyway. Mostly because he seems like he has a breeding kink (you literally cannot convince me otherwise, with all that muscle, random growling, the fact that he would 110% want kids, and given the Nightsister/Nightbrother culture I wouldn't be surprised.) (Would be willing to do more stuff for him!)

Anyway-

Our favorite red Zabrak has internal and external pressures on him almost all the time, let him be a sub. That man needs to relax.

I also can't get the image of him getting pegged, and his horns being roughly handled at the same time, out of my head.

Whimpers when he's teased, might get a little demanding and start moving his hips on his own without permission.

Might tear apart your bed sheets on accident. (Or not on accident if he's being a brat)

Would not want a harsh dom. He's been through too much, and I know kink and trauma can be related to some degree, but I don't see that happening with him.

He'd want a soft dom to gently coo at him, and give him lots of kisses. Not in the degrading way, he genuinely wants to be given affection.

I don't think he'd have a mommy/daddy kink, but he definitely has a praise kink. You don't need to call him a good boy if you're not into that. You just need to tell him that what he's doing feels good.

At some point I started thinking about if Maul would enjoy/be okay with wearing a collar. I don't think he'd wear a strip of leather around his neck with an O-ring. However, he'd probably wear a dedicated piece of Dathomirian jewelry. Or if we're talking marriage-level commitment, he'd get his tattoos modified with something special. (I have a HC that Nightbrothers will get their tattoos changed when they begin to serve a Nightsister, anyhow.)

Sub!Maul getting teased outside of the bedroom would be so cute, and before you can take it too far, he follows you, giving you those puppy eyes, and you can't deny him the attention he wants.

A particular thought I've had in mind about Sub!Maul is about my Eldridge Horror!Reader x Maul AU. In the beginning of the story, Maul summons the reader, and they're drastically confused because he's clearly a male, and he's summoned them??? At first they assume he is an offering, complimenting his physique and power, their hands tracing his muscles and tattoos, circling him like prey. They're not even paying attention to his metal legs. Maul, however, doesn't reply to the compliments, but he really gets turned on likes being complimented by this larger-than-life entity.

This man has not been shown much kindness in the past, and craves it like a drug. From a traumatized child, a hurt teenager, to a lonely adult, his life hardly changed. Even if he'd rather die than admit that out loud.

(Interesting side note: I've been thinking of giving the reader a proper name, but something kinda meta and Lovecraftian/Sucker for Love inspired. So instead of you being referred to as merely "reader" or "y/n," you'd be called "Re'der." Similar to how characters such as Ln'eta have a name spelled/pronounced the way they are.)

I love it when the great Maul simps out there send stuff in. Thank you, and don't be afraid to send more down the line! :) (I might open actual requests or something, but I'm debating it-)

[twisted-tales-told]

🔥 ??

This ask game

On a completely unrelated note

Anyone on marauders TikTok at this point I simply do not trust. I don’t like your vibe. Your existence irritates me and I can’t wait for life to knock u off your high horse a bit. Not like a lot, but enough to make you bearable to share the planet with.

People have taken the marauders fandom way too far and way too seriously and I think it should all just burn down.

Erase it all. Give it 5 years to cool off.

Also snape is not that bad?? Yall are fucking CRAZY in your hating him but hyping up Barty. Crazy. Insane. “He bullied children” well your guy tortured Frank and Alice longbottom and fucking killed people for the sake of blood purity. Therefore I challenge you to come up with a legitimate excuse and not some random fictional morale code?? Like why is that the line. Why is that your reason. “He bullied children” for gods sake do you hear yourself??

At least be creative jfc.

I think there’s a lot of nuance to Snapes story, especially with aspects of class, privilege, gender (being a white male vulnerable to extremist ideology due to upbringing and life experiences)

ALSO ITS FICTION

It’s fucking fiction. I say where the story is interesting because it’s MY blog.

Anyways this will probably be my last ever marauders post so I’m going out with a bang.

The reason there’s so many male fics is because creating characters from just a name is hard and not really in the nature of fanfiction and the only marauders era fleshed out characters are Sirius black and Remus Lupin because they’re the only ones in the Harry Potter books.

Like what yall have done creating depth in all these side characters is truly phenomenal but ohmygod the way you attack people so quickly for just writing m/m ships in this space where the only canon fleshed out characters are the men is INSANE. Thats literally what brought them here. You’re the weird one. And be weirder!’ Be weirder enough to write the W/W fanfiction with those little one fact character skeletons. I support you this is the place for that!! Stop being mean to other people and show some initiative or I will fucking fire you. With actual flames.

ALSO let people make fan films, don’t let people make fan films. Maybe it’s a scam, maybe it’s being written by criminals from their prison cells. Maybe it’s just people out here trying to do a group project like this is school. Stop. Caring. It’s none of your business.

I have never cared for cosplay, you do you boo but it’s not my thing. I do think it’s fucked up when you treat them like the character though and mess with their lives as human beings. Maybe try being normal, or pursuing a career in becoming a shitty therapist because you seem to care a whole lot about other peoples business.

Read fics because you like the summery or because you found it at 2 am in a comment section or ao3s page. Dont read fics because it’s “the it fic” right now. That’s bordering way too close to fast fashion trends and that is not allowed here. You are breaking the non-capitalist rules of our weird nerd hub.

You are not going to like the hyped up TikTok book.

Let that philosophy apply here.

Also This is not a book. It is a fanfic. Treat it like someone brought home made cookies to your doorstep. If you bite it and spit it in their face because you forgot to tell them you had a nut allergy or you wanted brownies instead it is your bad. You should have asked about the nuts, and you should say THANK YOU YOU MADE ME COOKIES.

Anyways goodbye forever marauders fandom it was fun I love all you silly little characters. I made lifelong friends, I laughed I cried I puked in my mouth a little (—meg from supernatural) but mostly you made me realize how fucking stupid it all is and fear for our future as a civilization.

[femdomliterature]

FemLit 0314 - An Open Letter to Women: Wait...What? My Man Wants What Where?

First and foremost, congratulations! This is exciting…and maybe confusing…and perhaps a little bit scary? All normal, not to worry. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Kate. I’ve been a self-proclaimed pegging princess for 12 years and in a happy, stable, open marriage with a great guy for 10 years. I’m a wife, a mother, a lover, a full-time professional, and a kick-ass friend. I’m not a porn star, dominatrix, or mistress, and I don’t enjoy dominating, humiliating, degrading, or feminizing my partners. I’m 40 and have the body to prove it. Overall, I’m pretty average—and believe it or not, there’s quite a large community of “average” pegging princesses across the world, though in truth we are anything but average!

Pegging is My Super Power

For me and many pegging princesses, ass play and pegging is about pleasure—plain and simple—and we view it as a giving act. Prostate stimulation can produce orgasms up to 10 times stronger and/or more intense than an average genital-stimulation-only male orgasm. WHOA! I totally get off on being the source of insane levels of pleasure for my man. I love the view, I love the adoration he gives me in return, and I love being a part of heightened levels of sexual pleasure for him and for myself.

Having a special sex skill is like having a super power—it makes me feel confident and empowered in and out of the bedroom. I do enjoy the lighter side of power exchange that pegging provides, but as I’ve said, pegging isn’t about dominating, humiliating, degrading, or feminizing my partners for me personally. I have no issue with that aspect of pegging for others as long as it’s consensual—it’s simply not my personal style and it doesn’t have to be yours.

Your Man Just Leveled Up…Join Him!

If your man wants to try something new in the bedroom and he had the courage to talk to you about it: 1) he’s a rock star, please tell him that; 2) he trusts you and that’s a good thing, so be kind and try not to embarrass him with a bad reaction even if it sounds like something you don’t want to try…hear him out; and 3) he’s telling you that he’s open to enhancing YOUR pleasure in the bedroom in equal measure to what he’s asking of you. Sounds like fun to me! Try to stay open minded and view this as an opportunity to share some of your fantasies.

Pegging definitely gives women an opportunity to take on a different role in the bedroom, but that doesn’t mean it will change the overall dynamic of your relationship outside of the bedroom or change it permanently in the bedroom. Pegging is just one item on the menu! Pegging can be very empowering for both partners and can be a strong bonding experience. In fact, it can be a real turn-on to see a man let down his guard and show some vulnerability. Think about all those awesome Ryan Gosling memes in which he gets all sensitive and cries and connects with every female on planet earth with his vulnerability and manliness. SO sexy, right?

Ass Play is for Everyone

Regardless of the anatomy you were born with, sticking things in your ass just feels good. This goes for males, females, and every gender identity in between. As human beings, we have wonderful sensory receptors in our asses…and it’s delightful! Men have the added benefit of prostate stimulation by way of their asses. I consider them lucky, but I suppose we have the added benefit of a clitoris and a g-spot, so maybe we’re even. My point is, ass play is about pleasure plain and simple and plenty of men and women in heterosexual relationships are enjoying ass play and pegging without shame or stigma. We’ve left the inhibitions and old ways of thinking behind and it feels great. We are rockin’ out with our girl cocks out! Don’t believe me? We have blogs to prove it.

No, He’s Not Gay and if You Try it He Won’t Secretly Long for the “Real Thing” or Lose Interest in Your Lovely Lady Bits

Ass play and pegging do nothing to a man beyond give him earth shattering orgasms the likes of which he has never before experienced. As for making a man gay, it’s simply not possible. A man is either attracted to men (gay) or attracted to women (not gay) or somewhere in between (bi-sexual/pansexual, etc.). Your man’s gender identity, sexual orientation, and masculinity have nothing to do with pegging. Sexual stimulation to any part of your body is independent of all three—it’s as simple as that. Enjoying ass play and pegging doesn’t mean you’re gay any more than eating lots of carrots makes you a rabbit.

Really believing this in your heart, however, and overcoming this fear might be easier said than done. I get it. Though we’ve made a lot of progress over the years, society still has a lot to say about gender identity, gender roles (masculine, feminine, etc.), and sexual orientation (to whom you are attracted and want to fuck). I don’t want to discount any fears you may have, but I do think we overcomplicate the issue and it helps to be informed and stay open minded because confidence in yourself, your partner, and your relationship is key.

Pegging Princess Empowerment—How Does it Feel to Wear a Strap-on?

I absolutely love pegging and I feel powerful, sexy, and feminine wearing my strap-on. The feeling and rush of strapping in alone is enough to arouse me. Sexy is a state of mind. Ladies, let me take a moment to introduce you to my middle-aged 180 lb medium build frame. Might I also introduce you to my aging bladder and stretch marks. Know how much I care about all that when I’m strapped into my harness? That’s right…I don’t. Your man will think you look like a goddess in that harness and so should you. Above all else sex should be mutually rewarding and fun. And pegging is nothing if not fun, Fun, FUN!

Sexual self-awareness and confidence is essential to the heart and soul of a pegging princess. When we understand the varying levels of orgasmic intensity in our own bodies, we have a better appreciation for why the prostate induced and/or enhanced male orgasm holds so much appeal. As a woman, it is far easier to understand why your heterosexual partner is interested in sticking things in his ass to increase his pleasure if you, yourself, understand how your body responds to different stimuli.

I often hear the prostate orgasm compared to the female g-spot orgasm. I don’t much care for this comparison for two reasons: 1) many women have never experienced a g-spot orgasm; and 2) some women don’t like g-spot orgasms, including me (I find the sensation a bit annoying). Instead, I like to compare the pleasure a man receives from having his prostate massaged while jerking off to the heightened pleasure a woman experiences when she orgasms from simultaneous clitoral and vaginal stimulation. Two spots stimulated at once produces an intense and deep orgasm for many women. If you have yet to experience this type of orgasm, it might just be the perfect place to start!

When I Think About Pegging I Touch Myself

Touch yourself. I can’t overstate how passionately I feel about this one simple act of pegging princess empowerment: touch yourself. Again, everyone is different, but really getting in tune with your body alone and on your terms can make a huge difference in confidence and will likely improve your experiences together in the bedroom. If you don’t own a vibrator, stop right now and put whatever device you are reading this on down. Get into your car immediately and drive to the nearest adult entertainment retailer. I’m kidding…but not really.

Relationship Reality Check

Open, honest communication and trust are essential to pegging. Please take note that EVERYONE must be willing to GIVE in order to RECEIVE. So, now is a great time to get real about your relationship in and out of the bedroom. Are you communicating? Is your man attentive to your needs in the bedroom? Are you attentive to his? Do you both feel pleased and satisfied with your sex life, and are you both willing to ask for what you want or voice concerns if there are issues in the bedroom?

Can you trust him with your secret fantasies and desires the way that he has trusted you with his today? Why or why not? These are big questions, but if you have any doubts, you may need to address communication and trust before you start ass play and pegging. Trust me, it will be worth it, so stick with it. Improved trust and communication in any relationship has so many rewards beyond increasing pleasure in the bedroom: that’s just icing on the cake!

Knowledge is Power: Additional Resources and Pegging Tips

Arming yourself with good information before you commit to a  “yes” or “no” will give you everything you need to make an informed decision that’s right for you and your partner. It will also boost your confidence and make this new idea a little less scary. Ruby Ryder has a wonderful podcast available on her pegging blog www.pegging101.com specifically geared towards women and their most frequently asked questions about pegging.

Dan Savage’s Savage Love www.thestranger.com and Dr. Susan Block www.susanblockinstitute.com also have excellent overall relationship advice. And, the list wouldn’t be complete without Sex Nerd Sandra www.sexnerdsandra.com and her super amazing sex positive blog and podcasts. Of course, for more pegging princess observations from Kate (that’s me) and other pegging princesses, visit our online community at: www.practicalpegging.tumblr.com (pegging observations) or www.katetheenchanted.tumblr.com (pegging pics, vids, and general musing).

Let’s Get a Little Emotional

I’m very sincere in saying I’m so excited for you and your partner as you start this conversation and dive into the wonderful world of pegging! I don’t have unlimited time to talk to everyone, but please feel free to visit me at www.katetheenchanted.tumblr.com and submit any questions you may have. Woman to woman, I’m here to help and I do my best to respond to all inquiries with honest observations from my experience.

As a woman, I know that sometimes we just want to know we aren’t alone and that other “average” women like ourselves, not porn stars and professional mistresses, are enjoying some light kink. Unfortunately, pegging doesn’t have a ton of prominent and outspoken “average” female role models just yet. We’re working on it, but it will take time. I hope someday soon we can count you among the ranks of empowered pegging princesses across the world!

Thanks for listening and hearing me and your man out. xoxo Kate

Disclaimer: I am neither a licensed physician nor counselor and the following is a discussion solely based on my personal observations and experiences as a pegging princess (not to be misconstrued as authoritative advice). Everyone’s bodies, circumstances, experiences, and relationships are different. Further, prostate care is serious business. Ladies, treat with care and men, find a medical professional you trust and be honest when necessary about what you stick in your ass.

[zaceouiswriting]

Price of a lie

Character: Reggie Mantle x male reader

Universe: Riverdale

Warnings: Break up

People who live double lives are almost always frowned upon. But they all have valid reasons to do so. Some might even be dangerous and still, when it comes out. No one likes it. Doesn’t matter which reason was behind it, only that they got lied to.

You never were a person to need that. For most people, you always were an open book. Nothing hiding, not even in your eyes. Every feeling you show is genuine. Not a single word muttered out of your mouth was ever a lie. People would call you `The pure one´, not as an insult or something, but because you never had any shifty motives, like other people had.

Like Betty, staying always so close to Archie, despite it being obvious, that she was in love with him but not the other way around. Or Kevin and Moose, they are able to fool most people, but not everyone. Their motive is a lighter one, to prevent their secret love of getting out. You were just disappointed in both of them, that neither brought Moose to end his relationship with his girlfriend, before they began to do stuff.

In your mind, nothing of this was okay. If you want something from a person you tell them, if you love someone you do the same. The truth is always something you saw not only as important but as mandatory.

For some reason, Reggie found interest in you. The school hotshot, who everyone wanted to be with, even if it only for one night. He was somewhat desperate most of the time, in many ways, but you never had a problem with it. You could manage him and even his father who was a total homophobe, could not hate you.

He hated what you were standing for but realized, that it wasn’t bad to be like you, which did not meant that he liked it. Slowly he became to tolerate people like you and you never asked for anything else. Because that wouldn’t be okay either. Tolerance is everything that is needed.

Sometimes you found yourself with his dad talking about sports and even helping him with his cars. Your own dad wasn’t around much, as a diplomat he wasn’t often not at home. But you and your mom, also did not want to go with him, so he comes back whenever he has time. Still your parents loved each other like they did on their first date. It was gross more often than not.

Still you knew, that his father was and still is abusive towards him. Nothing will change that, but you try to be there whenever something happened or be there, so nothing will happen. Because this man cares why too much what other people think of him.

All of this your personality, the honest and friendly one, as well as your perfect relationship, could’ve never prepared you for what just happened.

You stayed behind in school, to help with projects, until you lost track of time. It was late, maybe six or seven o’clock, the janitor would almost certainly kick you out any moment. Where Betty and Veronica, the wicked witch of the west, came by.

Both looked nervous, Betty obviously had cried for a little while.

„(Y/N), I have something you should see. But you should sit for it.“ You did not know what it was, if it was her broken voice, or the sympathy in it, but you did what she asked you to do.

„What is it Betty? You slowly begin to creep me out,“ you laughed softly, trying to brighten up the mood. But neither of the girls laughed with you, which only let your thoughts ran even faster.

Wordlessly they gave you a black book, you looked strangely at them, before opening it. There in big letter was written `PLAYBOOK´. So they stole they game book from one of your sports teams?

You already wanted to ask them, but as you glanced up both girls seemed determined that you would go trough it. With little hesitance you did just that. There were names of the football team members, besides them girl names, a comment, then points and at the end a date.

The first two names of the book were Chuck and Reggie, which was strange, because the date at the end of Reggies entry was way into your relationship, but at that point it wasn’t public yet, after his wishes, so you avoided him in school, to not lie to anyone or yourself.

As you got trough the book, Reggie’s name was overwhelmingly present in it. At some parts if even looked like he was the only one. But still you had no idea what this book was about.

„So and? For what are these points?“, you asked dumbly. You hadn’t read any of the comments, because you felt, bad to read something personal. But after Betty told you that this is a book over sexual conquests, your eyes almost immediately fell out. It only got worse, after she told you that you should open the last page.

It was different from the pages with the girls, above it stood only `Faggots´ and the entries were everything but nice. Not many players, had entries there, Chuck had two and Reggie had one. You. A comment that made you sick to your stomach. He described you as `used goods´, completely loose, like a desperate whore. He gave you three out of ten points.  The date was about your complete relationship.

Inside you felt completely crushed, heartbroken and betrayed. Outside you seemed completely unfazed, as if this hasn’t ruined your complete relationship in seconds. „Can I copy this?“

Both girls were visible disturbed by your nonchalant questions. They thought you would scream, cry or anything else, but you had other plans.

For some reason you slept that night like a baby. Betty and Veronica told you, when they want to show the evidence to your principal. So your plan began to form itself.

As any other morning after this beautiful night sleep, you came into school with a shining smile. Directly walking up to Reggie and nuzzling in his side, while he laughed about it, as usual. Him kissing the top of your head and swinging his arm over your shoulder. 

„Reggie, do you love me?“

„Of course Baby, more than anything!“

But now you knew it was a lie. The entire time, you felt so stupid for not realizing it earlier. How could someone you trusted this much, be such a scumbag? Still you waited fro the lunch break.  Everything needed to look like it was normal.

You kissed Reggie on his lips. Lips you once thought were only for you. But now you knew that they kissed dozens of others. His hand running down your sides, tickling you slightly, always fiddling with your body. Now you asked yourself how many others did he touched so lovingly? But the worst were his words of encouragement and loving side remarks. These meant nothing now. Just hollow phrases you were sure of, he told others too.

The day was a fas. It was the hardest thing in your life. But it wasn’t a lie. You still loved Reggie dearly. And you wished nothing of it was true. This changed at lunch, when Bett and Veronica vanished and you knew that this was the moment.

„Reggie do you love me?“ This time you asked him in front of all his little football friends.

„Of course I love you baby.“ He answered just as you had thought. Only this time you really saw the looks of the others. Some disgusted, other ashamed and one or two even with pity.

So you just took the copy of the entry out of your backpack and began to read.

„Reggie Mantle, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), a completely loosen up whore. Certainly not the first guy who used him. Begged me for it. Obedient whore, even let me piss on him. Three out of ten points. And look at this, a four year time span.“ You finished up reading and the looks of the guys at your table changed into horrifying glances in your direction.

„I mean not everything is a lie. Of course im used up, because I had daily sex with my know ex-boyfriend. But don’t worry, no other every touched me and will not in the near future. But obedient? Did you tell your little friends here, that I bind you to your bed and fucked myself with your dick, because you can’t handle it yourself? And five minutes is really not a goof time Reggie. And pissing? I didn’t even knew you had that kink, which would explain the stains on your bed, because you do it to yourself?“

Everything was now laid out. Reggie seemed completely devastated. The two guys that took pity on you, smirked at him, after you were finished with putting the dirty clothes out.

His shaking body after, he was about to start something, so you just silently stood up, let the page lay on the table and began to walk away.

„You can’t speak to me like this, Im your boyfriend, you have to obey-“

Before he could finish, you turned around, punching him directly onto his nose, which let him fall to the ground. „We are nothing Mantle. Have fun telling your father, I believe he will not be happy, to not have his second son at his house anymore.“

Now even Reggie looked horrified with his bloody nose, it gave you a sense of accomplishment. He paid the price of being a liar. And you were free, heartbroken and devastated, but free. Slowly the tears began running down your cheeks, as you made your way trough the hallways alone, with all the memories you shared with Reggie. But someday you will find a guy who truly treasures you. And the price of love will not be as high as this one.

[tayfabe75]

If cardigan is about Matty, what do we have with august and betty, considering that these three songs are one love story?

Kinda interesting that Matty and Betty rhyme... I know the story with all these names, but it's still funny to me

The pesky teenage love triangle strikes again! Anon, I admit - I have the same concern. Is Matty Betty because they're the same number of letters and end with a "t-t-y"? And, would that then mean that Taylor is James? After all, she was named for James Taylor… Or, is Matty James because they're both male? Your guess is as good as mine! I do, of course, have some speculation about the love triangle… (you knew it was comin'!)

Recently, Taylor chose to mash-up 'August' with 'Getaway Car' and 'The Other Side of the Door', which is interesting. On Twitter somewhere, I saw some comments about how we're getting all sides of the story, here. August: the perspective of the other woman, Getaway Car: the perspective of the cheater, and TOSOTD: the perspective of the woman spurned.

When it comes to making sense of this storyline, there are a few things I like to consider. It seems like there was some sort of undefined "situationship" between Taylor and Matty in the early days - I'm basing this off of 'Is It Over Now?' and 'TooTime', songs that share a melody.

While Taylor's song is lyrically much more fraught, Matty does imply that he's cried over this "situationship" ("you wet my eyes"). Pair that with Taylor's 1989 tour speeches, like this one before 'All You Had To Do Was Stay':

"I don't really like grey areas. I don't really like when people say 'I don't know', when it's a basic yes or no question. Do you want to be with me? Yes or no is the answer. And I tend to think that, you know, relationships are much less complicated than we make them if we simplify it to two basic options. Would you like to hear the two basic options, Boston? Okay. I think that your two real decisions and your two real options in a relationship are: you either leave or stay."

Recently (I think at MSG?), Matty introduced 'A Change of Heart' by describing himself as an "indecisive young man"… now, I get that most people don't think that song is about Taylor… however, that wasn't historically the case! (and that's certainly an interesting rabbit hole to fall down…)

Anyway, there are two theories that I really like, both suggested by my fellow "Tayfabe" collaborators:

The first theory being that 'August' might refer to opioids. Often, Matty describes his relationship to drugs almost like a romantic relationship:

"It's just… you know, if you break up with your missus for a good reason, even if you love her, you can understand it, you know, you can get on with it. But if you still fucking love her, it's really hard, you know? I think that would be the best way to describe it."

(Interestingly, Taylor speaks about addiction as an intro to the song 'This Is Me Trying' in the Long Ponds film… pair that with the "This Is Us Trying" engraving on NOACF… and you start wonderin' some things, no?)

The second theory being that Taylor could be both Augustine and Betty! That somewhere in her tumultuous timeline with Matty, she's found herself at one point being his "girl", and at other points, being "the other woman". Either way, she seems to deeply empathize with poor Augustine:

"August was obviously about the girl that James had this summer with, right? So she seems like she's this bad girl. But really, she's not a bad girl, she's like really a sensitive person who like, really fell for him and she was trying to seem cool and seem like she didn't care because that's what girls have to do, and she was trying to let him think that she didn't care, but she really did and she thought they had something very real. And then he goes back to Betty."

Something about the way she says this makes me think that no, Taylor is not actually Augustine, but there might be another reason she humanizes the "other woman" so much. Maybe because it's a friend of hers?

Warning: High (and morally dubious) speculation ahead

Anon, I'm personally a bit uncomfortable with celebrity gossip, but since so much of fandom song speculation seems to hinge on the gossip aspect of things, I thought it might be worth mentioning! Now, Matty used to date Halsey. It is alleged that a few of her songs are about Matty (more on that soon). Of course, Taylor and Halsey are friends as well as collaborators! I believe Taylor actually gifted her a Folklore cardigan, and Halsey posted an IG story of herself wearing it and lip-synching along to 'Illicit Affairs':

Don't call me "kid" Don't call me "baby" Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors You know I can't see with anyone else

If you're at all familiar with the Matty x Halsey lore, you'll know that her song 'Colors' is alleged to be about him, as well as the song 'Is There Somewhere', which shares a theme with 'August' in that it's about being the other woman:

Your girl's got red in her cheeks 'Cause we're something she can't see And I try to refrain but you're stuck in my brain All I do is cry and complain, because second's not the same

Now we'll go back to Taylor's quote about Augustine:

"So the idea that there's some like, some bad villain girl in any type of situation who like, takes your man, is actually a total myth because that's not usually the case at all. Like, everybody has feelings and wants to be seen and loved, and just like… Augustine, that's all she wanted was love."

(Oh, and to address the elephant in the room: Yes, I'm pretty sure Matty and Halsey dated in 2013. I know not everyone is on the same page when it comes to the "Tatty Timeline", but there are a few hints that Taylor and Matty met at least as far back as the Red era…)

Lastly, I'll leave you with this, Taylor's forecast for what ultimately becomes of James and Betty:

"Cardigan is from Betty's perspective from like twenty to thirty years later, looking back on this love, that was this tumultuous thing. In my head, Betty and James ended up together, right? So in my head, she ends up with him, but he really put her through it."

I definitely veered a bit off-course here, anon, forgive me! lol

And, of course, thanks for the ask! ♥

[lion-of-liberation]

I need to expose my thoughts. I talk and express a lot and yet there’s endlessly more under the surface always. It’s never-ending. I doubt there’s a single person that can handle the endlessness of it all. Some of its mundane, some is significant, some is deeply emotional, but they’re all intertwined and I can’t tell if that’s just what is or if I created it myself. I’m not sure if that even matters either because at this point it’s all real enough that I feel the need to purge it from my brain. I’ll start with some straight forward stuff: what I have self-diagnosed myself with and done nothing about.

It’s honestly embarrassing to think about self-diagnosing myself but… I know me best and I see how different I act in front of any human. It’s almost like I’m never there. Sometimes I am and I love it. But I don’t know why it’s hard to be there. And afterward I regret it and begin thinking about non existence. I’ve challenged myself to type out every natural thought as it comes. I’m not a fan but I need this out. I feel pretty qualified to self-diagnose as I work in the mental health field but do to the nature of what I believe I got going on, I haven’t done anything about this to go find out from an outside source.

This also embarrassing because I feel it’s common. But I hear others using stereotypes and basic examples as justification for their self-diagnosis. I’ve spent years on this. It was 5 years before I said anything to a friend out loud. Anyways… I believe I have ADHD. Stemming from that I’ve developed a propensity for anxiety, depression and imposter syndrome.

Currently, imposter syndrome and depression seem to be taking over. Anxiety used to be a bugger issue, leading to panic attacks and very literally running away. I’m in massage therapy school right now so I feel I’ve learned how to manage anxiety better naturally through this experience.

Depression - my motivation to do anything, including eat or shower has been dwindling for months. It gets better and then gets worse. I know that’s the nature of things but I just want be able to eat at least. I don’t know why something so simple is so difficult for me. Everyone seems to see me as an intelligent and thoughtful person and it just feels like they don’t know me at all. That’s the imposter syndrome right there.

I feel like my brain is full of all these things I want to be and do and I do none of it and my self appreciation just goes down every day. The thoughts of falling into a coma or disappearing have been more and more frequent and starting earlier and earlier in the day.

I feel stuck in some void, but it’s surrounded by mirrors so only I can see me and everyone else sees…something else.

I felt called to type all this out today because something significant yet insignificant happed as soon as I woke up. Someone had deleted me as a friend on Snapchat. I’d never known them in real life. We’d been in each others social media for a few years now. I thought of them as strange and cool, and potentially someone who’d be a friend. It seemed like we were on the same wavelength for a lot of things. He’s even said that once as well. I think people say things heartwarming often thoughtlessly and I’m always the person who takes it seriously and cherishes it. It’s why I hate hearing “I love you.” Anyways I was filled with thoughts that this man could be part of my soul family - a friend I’m meant to have in this life because so many of our interests and ways of being overlapped. I responded to his story yesterday… I guess he hated my response. Maybe something about it revealed to him an aspect of myself he found annoying enough to delete me after 3 years.

I didn’t think I’d be so hurt. But I cried really hard and I’m still crying now. Partly I had a small crush as I often do strictly with males very far from me, but honestly I was holding out hope I’d meet him and gain a new kind of friend. Now that fantasy is demolished and I’m devastated. There’s something good out of this I know. The universe might be pushing distractions out of my way. I’m too good at finding them. Maybe he felt how hard I was hoping he’d be my friend in real life. It all sounds pathetic. I feel starved for deep human connection yet when I make friends I’m so….awkward and feel I have to hide how much I like them. I don’t even like people often. I just don’t know what to do with myself. I’d rather disappear.

I think I’ll procrastinate on talking about what I feel is ADHD in behavior. Specifically the imposter syndrome is what I feel the most. I feel like a joke and disappointment and I’m not sure how I’ll ever change or how to fulfill myself.

[flibo23]

Candy

I really have to thank my mum who sometimes decides to make me watch some shoujo anime out of the blue, so I stop just watching stupid shonen all day. I started watching Candy Candy kind of ironically with her but then I really started liking the anime, although it was made for children I got used to the style after a bit. It has so much charm, it's earnest, it's so sweet that when bad things happen it hurts even more. Life can be all this but also difficult, and seeing Candy braving through all of it was really heartwarming. 115 episodes and I could have watched more. I don't think I would have done the same things Candy did at some point, but she's just better than me lol. She was honestly a really good role model for girls, I'm glad this story exists

I think maybe, aside from Candy Candy, the male characters had more charm than the female ones, but it depends on the person: I had very conflicting feelings on Annie, because sometimes she was not a great friend tbh, but Patty was really sweet. Anthony and Terence were something else tho: Anthony will always be in my heart, such a cutie pie, and Terence is timeless. I really felt like a girl from the 80s cheering for him and Candy ahah

Obviously special mention for my boy Stear, my number 1 fave but I thought he was called Steve for like... 60 episodes. The wonder of watching stuff without subtitles. A total sweetie, loved his arc. His brother Archie is an enjoyable character too, love how he's always ready to throw hands, but compared to other characters there isn't a whole lot

I love starting things casually but then falling in love with them, maybe I should follow my mum's advice a little more

Anyway, spoiler for the 40 years old anime

So... shonen are good, but do they make you cry thinking about how fragile young love is. Anthony's death was terrible and probably the first time I thought things could get serious in this time, actually cried for him... The way this completely blindsided me. Their sweet love was true and filled with joy, its end shocked me. But I'm glad that although she moved on, Candy never stopped thinking about him in some way

Terence and Candy were perfect for each other, nothing else to say. Them slowly falling in love at college, Terence being a child-friendly bad boy who actually listened to her, who defended her when she was hassled by her bullies, them growing together. And when Terence left the school Candy had no reason to remain either. Their break up was so painful to me, and later seeing Terence so destroyed made me forgive him completely; that situation totally sucks and it's a bit convoluted tbh, but I understand

I love how in the second Italian dub they snuck "Terence leaving Susanna" in the final episode just to give hope to the readers lmao, I totally fell for it and then my mum told me it was an addition

Albert ??? I had a feeling he was part of the Andrew family but I didn't expect all that. I like his affection for Candy and how their stories tie together so well, especially how they're connected by Anthony. The build up to it was insane. Although I didn't think he could a love interest due to the age gap but I don't mind tbh. From what I understood they do end up together in the manga

I think I have stronger feelings for Terence but in the end every love interest was perfect for the life stage Candy was on, maybe this is the most realistic part, nothing assures you a person will be with you forever

My God, Stear... At first I felt weird saying he is my favourite but who else. He's silly, kind, always there to help, wears glasses (which is always a plus), I loved to see him on screen. Hearing his reasons to go to war made me reconsider him a bit, for the better: wanting to stop "being a rich kid who spends his time making useless inventions", I can see why a boy of his time would decide going to fight for a better future was a good option, even though he knew how terrible war can be. I already found him charming enough when he made "useless inventions" because they were mostly made for his friends, and I enjoyed seeing him becoming more skilled and basically an engineer, taking care of an airplane and making the carillon, but seeing him mature was amazing, realising how lucky he was, while people on the other side of the ocean kept dying and suffering while he lived in luxury. The fact even his brother didn't take him seriously when he told him he wanted to make something more of his life is just so sad. And his death scene ? I actually hoped we wouldn't see it but it was better this way: he saw his dead friend in the enemy in front of him and couldn't shoot. It's a slow and beautiful arc for him, I can't even be mad about it

I peeked at the manga, Patty says they had a vacant grave, I actually wondered watching it if they had retrived his body but that's sombering

Such a good person all around, he deserved the world

so yeah this anime ruined me, can you tell

[frickingnerd]

RWBY for the fandom ask game?

answers for the ask game under the cut!

(also my brain is mush rn so i apologize if i sound stupid while explaining anything here :') )

3 male characters I love:

my three favorite male characters are jaune arc, oscar pine & james ironwood! jaune took a while to grow on me (because of reason i'll elaborate on further down), oscar is just a sweet guy and ironwood... i might not agree with everything he does, but he's a very interesting character (just not always a good person :') )

3 female characters I love:

my three favorite rwby gals are pyrrha nikos, yang xiao long and weiss schnee. pyrrha is just such a sweet character and she deserves the world! yang is a character i kinda just vibe with, i can't quite explain what i like about her, only that i do like her. and weiss has great character development and an interesting background!

3 romantic ships I love:

i have to defend myself first and say that i'm a multishipper, so i pretty much vibe with most ships. but my three favorites have to be blake x yang, oscar x ruby and jaune and pyrrha. pyrrha x jaune is a ship i mainly like because i love pyrrha and jaune would make her happy (even if i feel like she's out of his league–). blake and yang... well, i saw the scene where they got together in volume 9 before even watching rwby and even without any context, i cried because they were just so cute 🥺 and ruby and oscar... honestly, i just like both of those characters and i haven't quite settled on what my fav ruby ship is, but i do want oscar to be happy, so he gets the silver eyed girl for now 😌

3 platonic dynamics I love:

this one is hard because i've got so many pairing that i like as ships but also don't mind as friends. like i could list the same pairings above, because i'd love them even if they were just friends. but i think i'd have to go for... sun x neptune, jaune x ruby and yang x weiss. i like all three of those pairs but also not enough to really ship them. they all have a very lovely dynamic though and always enjoy seeing them together!

3 favorite moments in canon:

my absolute favorite moment is the bumbleby kiss! the music, the visuals, the voice acting... just everything about that scene is perfect! by far my favorite moment in canon! the other two are tricky, but i think that scene where jaune / team jnr see pyrrha's statue has to be one of them. it was really sad but also some nice closure that i hadn't really felt until that point. and the third scene would have to be ruby's confrontation with neopolitan + all the people that died so far. just being able to see pyrrha again or roman was so nice! and absolutely heartbreaking to see them fight ruby & co. :') (plus billy kametz voiced roman in that scene which only hurt even more...)

3 favorite headcanons:

i don't really have a lot of headcanons for rwby, but i highkey headcanon james ironwood to be a yandere. he already isn't really a good person and he did not hesitate to shoot a guy, so he wouldn't hesitate either if someone was flirting with his partner 👀 another headcanon would be that rwby likes oreos. i can't explain it, but she gives me that vibe. i could also see her and yang (+ maybe the rest of team rwby) argue over the correct way to eat them. and lastly, i headcanon that nora's favorite pokemon would be pikachu.

3 least favorite things about it:

the thing i hate most about ruby is how some people in the fanom portray jaune. i absolutely hate jaune x his harem with a burning passion. everything i see about it feels just so out of character for jaune, yet i see way too many people portray him as this overpowered beast who can't help but fall for every woman he meets & have them fall for him as well. i disliked jaune for quite a bit when i started watching rwby, before slowly realizing that it's not canon!jaune that i have a problem with but fanon!jaune.

another thing i don't like about rwby is how soon they left behind beacon academy. honestly, i loved the first three seasons because of that setting and i'm still a bit sad we didn't get to see more of them during that time. school/college settings with a twist are really fun, like what my hero academia has. i kinda miss beacon but i also understand why they aren't going back to it. (i'd still like to see them at least go back once when rwby ends)

and the last least favorite thing about rwby... probably the art style in the earlier seasons. it's kinda nice in a way to see the show evolve over the years, but i also can't help but wish we got to see certain scenes or characters in more polished models.

[st4rrg1rll]

dating is so weird to me now. as someone who was 18 when the pandemic started, a lot of my dating in early adulthood was done via tinder and bumble. i used to pull so many guys when i was blonde and a little bit thinner. i would date them a couple of times, maybe see them every weekend for a month, before eventually someone said “this isn’t working.” so, they weren’t my boyfriends, but a month was usually still enough time for me to start feeling some type of way, and usually i cried when it was over at least a little bit. it’s like a little testament to my unloveableness, a little affirmation of the fear that i’ll never find anybody to be with, that i’m somehow defective and unworthy. maybe i’m a little rejection sensitive. regardless, i would go through little phases of dating in that way, and then i’d get hurt and stop for a while, but then i’d get bored and lonely and go on dating apps again. well, fast forward to 2022, i had short brown hair and had gained 15lbs, not exactly the confident blonde girl i had been but also hated being. i liked myself much better, but my taste must differ from the male gaze, because i wasn’t getting even half of the attention that i used to. blondes do have more fun. (only because men subconsciously perceive blonde women as more promiscuous. that’s another thing: i would never have sex with any of the guys i was seeing, part of me feels haunted by the thought that maybe they thought i wouldn’t put out soon enough. but i digress.) a particularly bad string of interactions with three different men happened one weekend in april and i decided i was done dating online, and that i wanted to meet and get to know someone organically. i had no idea how to go about doing that, though, so i didn’t. over the past year i haven’t met many guys that i was interested in. i’ve met some cuties, but none that were all that interesting or unique enough to pique my interest. except for one guy, who i’m trying to talk to rn lol, but that’s beside the point. i have not dated or talked to or touched any men since last april ever since making my mind up about meeting organically and getting to know someone and caring about each other. i didn’t realize how insecure it’s made me feel to not have so much male validation at my fingertips but also i know that online dating can be really toxic and i refuse to go back to engaging with it. but it was easier to love myself when i aligned more with what everyone else thought of as pretty.

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[sinfulcries]

ANIMA SOLA — YACHI X MALE READER

author’s notes. OH EM GEE i’m gonna pee myself at this point im just experimenting wifh my banners bc tumblr likes to bully me smh </3 anyways this is my first posted collab piece hope you guys enjoy! to see the other amazing sinfulhub collab pieces and authors, click here.

tw. blackmail, corruption, sacrilege, size difference, forced impregnation, virginity loss, noncon, monster fucking (reader's a demon), double penetration, stomach bulge, pregnancy threats, mind break, manhandling, 1 pussy slap (wc: 1.6k / @hqintheclub)

Yachi Hitoka was a devoted woman. Her faith in Christ unwavering as she continued to serve and praise the Lord each and every day. Maybe her innocence was what made you so interested in her. The church was one unsafe place, despite how holy pastors and nuns make the establishment out to be, and fellow demons like yourself, loved to toy with some of them-- watch as they’d frantically cleanse and pray some memorized prayer whenever you made your presence known.

You were an unholy being who loved nothing more but chaos, and Yachi Hitoka was the perfect little girl for you to corrupt. You thrived off of the fear, the way she’d squeak and squirm like an innocent bunny. And a powerful succubus like you wouldn’t let the opportunity to fuck her against her will slip away from your grasp.

As soon as hitoka arrived at her dormitory, she could already feel your strong presence looming over her small figure, waiting for the right moment to pounce. She could feel her limbs shaking with fear, a rosary in her small hand as she started to recite the hail Mary, foolishly thinking that some stupid prayer would be enough to wad you off.

What a shame, with that dumb mindset the church had implemented onto her, it would make your job much easier, having such a foolish and pure woman to stain and corrupt.

“Hail mary full of grace the Lord is with you blessed are you--”

“You know that stupid prayer’s not going to work right, little one?” You mused, feeling the woman flinch as you wrapped your strong arms around her waist, preventing her from escaping. “So pure and flawless, Such a pretty little thing are you?”

The divine lord couldn’t even prepare you for the way she writhed in your grasp, and you couldn't help but notice how much smaller she was compared to you, her tiny body only making the dark thoughts in your head swirl with more need.

“I-I- Please!” She cried, fat globs of tears running down her flushed cheeks as she attempted to remove your strong hold on her once more. You however, only pressed a finger against her lip, silencing her as your other hand snaked downwards to cup her pussy.

“C’mon now just let me fuck you and the others won’t know about it yeah?” You cooed, honeyed words only making Yachi whimper. “No one’ll know I promise.”

Yachi knew better than to trust a demon, especially someone who was much stronger than her. You towered over the shorter girl so easily, it was almost painful seeing just how helpless she was compared to you. “S-Sir.. I don’t want to…”

How annoying. “Hm, Fine. Better not complain when you see your stomach swelling with my kid.”

The blonde could barely react to your cruel words before you pushed her against the mattress of her bed, both of your bodies pressed up close to each other as you impatiently tore her habit off.

“Please! No!” She cried out, thrashing her little leg around as you placed a large hand over her sweet mouth. “Quiet now, Don’t want your sisters to see you getting fucked right?” You grinned, taking in the sight of her untouched body, darkened eyes running over each crevice. Her cute tits, her sopping pussy, the small dip in her waist-- you made sure to drink up every detail, have each spot memorized for you to touch and use later on.

The little girl could only squirm uncomfortably as she felt your rough fingertips dragging across the pale expanse of her virgin skin. You could get drunk off of the thought of corrupting this sweet nun, She was indeed a sight to behold, fresh meat for you to pound and fill with your seed

As if her innocent reactions weren't enough, as soon as you sheathed your two cocks in front of her, the woman could only quiver in fear, trying to crawl away only to be held down once more. “P-Please stop! Don’t h-hurt me!” She whimpered, only making you laugh sadistically. “I don’t think so, princess.”

God the sight of those two thick cocks throbbing with want made her pussy tremble with slight arousal and fear. How were they even going to fit inside her? Would she be able to even take it? She was truly scared of what you planned on doing with her and with a gasp, Hitoka felt her mind go blank as she started to mumble some prayer like a broken record despite knowing that no God would be able to save her from this hell

“Fuck, so wet for me Hitoka. Are you that thirsty for some demon cock? And to think you’re a virgin too..” You laughed hysterically, practically smelling the fertility radiating off of her smaller form. ‘This is just a dream. This is just a dream.’ Hitoka pathetically tried to convince herself, the impending fear of your cock penetrating her pussy only making her grow weak as she could feel the thick head of your cock threatening to take her.

“You want this, Hitoka. Tell me you fucking want it.”

Did she really want this? Hitoka slowly felt her head spinning with each passing second and she was certain that she would lose her sanity by the time you were done filling and using her once untouched vessel. ‘I want this, I want this… Do I want this?’ Yachi was beyond confused at this point, the fear only eating her up as she tried not to moan, feeling your cock head rubbing against her clit.

The hope draining from the little girl’s eyes fueled you to thrust one of your cocks inside of her, shoving your thick fingers down Hitoka’s warm throat before burying every inch in her warm cunt. It was such a shame that you had to muffle the delicious moan that the woman let out, however you only decided to push through with your plan on corrupting her, aligning the head of your other cock in front of her already stuffed pussy.

“You’re gonna be so full, doll. You’re gonna be a mom.” You grinned tauntingly, shoving your fingers further down the blonde’s throat as you watched her choke helplessly trying to gasp for air. With the way you were stretching her cunt open, Yachi was certain that she would break. And with one more rough push of your hips, the woman was now impaled on two fat cocks as she could only cry helplessly at the intense pain in her stomach.

God the sight of her breaking in your grasp made your cocks twitch inside of her, positioning her tiny body so that her head was shoved deep into her pillow, you kept a bruising grip on her waist before you started to fuck her animalistically. Manhandling her body like a limp fuck doll. You could practically see her stomach bulging every time your cock moved inside of her. The bump moving rapidly in sync with each pistol of your hips

“Mmm, Nothing beats a virgin’s tight cunt .” You moaned, fucking into her impossibly deeper, kissing her cervix with each unforgiving thrust. “H-Hurts!” she squeaked, and you could barely make out what she was saying amidst her desperate sobs.

“Does it look like I care sweetheart?” Musing at her playfully, your fingers inching down to press at the bulge in her stomach, feeling her velvety walls tighten deliciously around both of your massive cocks. “Feel my hand here baby? This is where our baby will go.”

“B-But you ah! Said-”

“I don’t listen to little girls who don’t follow my orders, baby. Now tell me, do you want this?”

Hitoka knew that there was only one answer to your question, and with her mind slowly succumbing to your desires, she responded with a garbled “yes” not wanting to get pregnant with a demon’s child.

“Tell me you want it then, little one. Fucking tell me.”

“I-I WANT IT~! AH AH~ I WANT YOUR BABY~!”

The grin on your face only got wider with the blonde’s words and you gave her clit a harsh smack, the impact making the blonde jolt away from your touch as you continued to pound and rearrange her insides. “Good girl.”

You could slowly feel the knot building in your stomach, your thrusts getting more rapid as you continued to manhandle and fuck the poor little girl. “S-Sir gonna cum!” she squealed, knuckles turning white whilst she gripped tightly onto her pillow. “So cute, little one.”

And with one particularly harsh thrust, the blonde came all over your cock. Her body convulsing with pleasure as she passed out limp still impaled on your fat cock. With an amused chuckle your grip on her waist only seemed to tighten as you continued to use her passed out body to your pleasure. Fucking load after load inside of her creamed cunt before leaving her abused body for her to take care of in the morning.

You were beyond excited for Hitoka to see the aftermath of a nice fuck in the morning. She’d see her cunt leaking with your cum and her body littered with shades of red and purple. However you just couldn’t wait to see her reaction to the progressive swelling of her tummy. After all, you did leave quite the surprise for her the night you filled her womb with your warm cum.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Could you also add Gage to the last fo4 male companions in bed post please? 👉👈

Yes, of course! Here he is! 😁

And I'll also add him to the FO4 M!Companions part of this prompt as well, so y'all can find him easily on the masterlist :)

Also, here are the other 2 parts:

Part 1 with the M!FO4 companions

Part 2 with the M!FONV companions

And this prompt with F!FO4 Companions is on the way as well!

I hope you enjoy!

NSFW below the cut!

Gage:

The raider’s had his fair share of sexual partners, most of which he didn’t particularly care for, and all of which he’d never actually loved. This whole… relationship thing is new to him, so you’ve gotta cut him some slack on the finer points of it all, even when it comes to sex.

At first, he’s just as physical, and just as interested in his own needs, as he was before; when he was in his younger years, and with his previous sexual partners. However, when those genuine feelings finally seep into him, when he finds that his need for you is more than just physical, his aims change drastically, in a way that’s completely unfamiliar to him. But ultimately… damn, he finds that he just can’t get enough.

Gage loves to make you fall apart under his touches, loves to hear the way your voice grows husky, to see the way he makes you tremble in anticipation and writhe in overstimulation. And oh, how he just can’t help but leave his marks all over his partner at every chance he gets. You won’t leave the bedroom unmarked after a night spent with Porter Gage.  A neck littered in dark hickeys, hips bruised in the shape of his tightened fingers, chest spotted with reddened bite marks. He wants all the world to know that you’re taken, you’re his.

Gage is shameless in his love, and proud to show you off in public, taking PDA to a whole new level in his glaring and aggressive possessiveness of you, which often leads to; not quite blatantly public, but semi-public quickies in every kind of environment. Though he's not big on showing his mushier side (which he definitely has, despite what he tries to make everyone think) out in the open, when Gage needs you, he needs you, and almost nothing will stand in his way. Any surface of Fizztop is fair game, be it on the balcony, on the bar top, or just classic style on the big, soft mattress. And when it comes to the other boss' territory, it's a personal endeavor of his to have you in each one of their areas of the park. Whether they know or not, he'll leave up to you. He likes to see the way you try and keep quiet as he takes you in shady alcoves, in abandoned buildings, and behind old, run down rides, and he likes it even more when you just can't help but hold back all those delicious pleasured cries he manages to pull from you in those times.

Beyond all of that, Gage prefers to take the lead when the two of you are alone. You’re the Overboss, spending day and night trying to keep the raiders in order, stressing about the park and the feuds between bosses, and the power plays, and the chaos of his fellow men and women of Nuka World. When you’re with him though? He’ll take care of you. He likes it when you give in to him, when you follow his lead, and submit to him being in charge for the night. All you’ve gotta do is listen and follow orders, an’ he’ll make you feel pleasure and release unlike anything you’ve experienced before. If he feels the need, or just if he fuckin’ wants to, Gage’ll have some fun tying you up, maybe using some sensory deprivation, and if you’re into it, he could seriously get into some spanking sessions and other delicious punishments with you. Odds are, whatever you’re down for, the raider will be game.

If there is the occasional night you feel like taking the lead, he’ll humor you, but you’ll have to earn that right through a bit of play wrestling and persuasion. Also, if you blab about that shit to any of the other raiders, Gage won’t be so likely to oblige your wishes again. So just keep that in mind, and he’ll play nice… Or, as nice as you’d expect a raider to.

Really though, anything that sends a thrill through him, he is bound to want to enjoy over and over again with you. An’ with Gage, hopefully you’ve got a bit of a high sex drive, cuz though he may be gettin’ to his later years, he’s got a lot of time alone to make up for. Sure, he coulda had someone almost any night in his earlier years, and even now if he wasn’t with you, but you’re just different. And a hell of a lot better than anything he could remember having with any other mediocre partner he could scrounge up before.

Sure, sex was nice before. It was a good release, made him feel satisfied, and his partners always got something out of it too, but this? This closeness, all the goddamn feelings, your heated touch and the deep look of affection in your eyes, and just the way the expectations of it all have changed.

Now, sex wasn’t just about getting off, about release, but also about that extra shit he never knew about before. That build up, the running of his rough hands over your soft skin, the feel of your lips against his, pushing and pulling, tasting and biting as his passions turn aggressive. The drawn-out sessions that were so much more rewarding when he could watch you fall apart at his actions, and even at his words, as filthy and unrefined as they could be. And it was about what comes after too. His words of praise, and yours, the way you settled in his embrace, falling asleep together, legs all tangled, and an arm thrown over your chest, instead of feeling the need to leave before the moon had a chance to set. SO, depending on the relationship (or lack thereof), Gage's preferences and practices change quite drastically, but believe it or not, the closeness of intimacy really draws him in, once he gets a taste for it with the proper partner. It was unfamiliar, and it would take him quite a bit of practice to get all of it right, to treat you like you deserve. But Gage will be damned if he doesn’t give it a try. It may be strange to him, but already, this whole relationship thing is a hell of a lot better than whatever the fuck he was doing before.