#This is like. A VERY specific snippet

[kakusu-shipping]

March 13th grows ever closer, and something about this year is making me more emotional than previous rewatches so have a little Self Insert snippet. For me.

You gained us, but lost her

A Koro-Sensei X Self Insert ficlet.

In which they talk,

The students left the field with heavy hearts, cluttered together, moving as a unit, they returned to the school building, safely down the mountain, and went home like any other day, tired and scared and aware of reality, more than they ever had been.

Karasuma was taking Kayano to the hospital the Government had already paid twice to keep quiet when Irina showed up with a broken arm and when an octopus larger than any average man turned a room into a botanical garden in attempts at apologizes. They would take care of her, with or without official documentation, which only now seemed to be a problem, and more importantly they wouldn't ask questions about her injuries, the holes in her neck, the internal burns. They'd fix it, they'd make her comfortable, and they'd keep her safe.

That's all that mattered in the end, that she was safe. She was safe, she'd live, she'd recover, and she's return to E class, and life would go on.

Standing in that field that changed everything, after all the students had filtered out, after Karasuma had taken Kayano and promised her safety with Irina close on his heels, after the fire had died and everyone else had descended the mountain, was Koro-Sensei; a man with a timer hanging over him as prominent as the broken moon in the sky, and the man he'd claimed to love for the past two months, Doctor Emile Hides.

They stood in silence, in stillness, until only the wind rustled the grass around them, until the last of the students had long reached the base of the mountain, until Karasuma's car started and his seat belt clicked.

"Emile," Koro-Sensei finally spoke, low and quiet, looking directly at him, "Is there something you wanted to say to me?"

The man across from him stood small compared to most everyone he knew, with bright red eyes and brighter white hair. Crazy patterned shirts under pristine white lab coats. He gripped a first aid kit tightly to his chest, eyes still wet from tears, glasses fogged from hot emotions pouring from his face.

He started across the field at one he thought of as the love of his life, took a deep breath,

and silently opened his arms to him.

Koro-Sensei paused at the silence from a man who'd always spoken his feelings, no matter how imperfect his wording. He stared, unsure the gesture's meaning.

Truth be told Koro-Sensei wasn't sure of much of anything anymore. He was sure, at that moment, he was tired. His body ached, his limbs shook, and he'd done everything to stand upright and tell his story clearly for his student's sake, and he was tired...

Shakily Koro-Sensei's tentacled limbs reached out for his partner's outstretched arms, almost subconsciously. His tentacles slithered under him to scoot him closer, and then gave out.

He did not hit the ground, as Emile rushed to him and collected the much larger being into his small human arms and hugged him for all he could.

Koro-Sensei's arms wrapped around Emile 4 times each, his face buried into the man's shoulder, and he trembled. He rabidly muttered apologizes, for keeping such a big secret, for putting their students in such danger, for collapsing under the weight of it all, he apologized.

Emile hugged tighter.

"I'm sorry... You lost someone so precious to you..." Emile's words were soft, full of sorrow, and genuine. Koro-Sensei attempted to pull back, and Emile held him closer, tighter, a hand on the back of his head.

"You lost her, and gained us, but you still lost her. She's gone and we'll never replace her," Emile's grip was strong, or perhaps Koro-Sensei's resistance was just weak, "You're allowed... To be sad about that."

Crying came a lot easier to Koro-Sensei sense his mutations began, especially after falling in love, first with Aguri, second with E Class, third with Emile. Crying had come so easy he felt ashamed of it at times. It was juvenile the things that made him cry, and he was well aware how pathetic such things made him look. Truth be told, he didn't care.

So he cried, shaking and clinging to his third love, he cried there in the field where he'd almost lost one of his second loves, and his first all over again, and he cried.

When his tears slowed from sobs to a small stream, and his shaking had calmed to tremors, Emile readjusted his grip and hoisted the 8 foot octopus into a princess hold, and began talking them back to the school building.

(this was not as impressive as it may sound. Koro-Sensei weights significantly less than someone who is 8 feet tall should, and Emile spent large portions of his life carrying heavy equipment to and from various laboratories.)

When they arrived back in the school building Emile laid Koro-Sensei down on the bed in the spare classroom they'd turned into a nurse's office, the one Principal Asano had stabbed the shovel of an excavator through the roof of just last month, made hot tea, and went over Koro-Sensei remaining external injuries with unnecessary gauze and gentle healing kisses.

And when Koro-Sensei eventually succumb to his exhaustion of having his heart figuratively and literally squeezed in a death grip, Emile stayed by his side and slept in his office chair tangled in a loose tentacle hold throughout the night.

The following week was the start of Winter break. There would be no students in the class. Karasuma only called to update on Kayano. Irina called to ask if Emile had gotten home safe, which he reported to not doing at all, and then promptly asked Irina to water his plants for him.

Emile's hands were warm despite the rickety old building, wrapped in his lover's hold. They walked the school grounds and reminisced, they watched shows on Emile's laptop and laughed, they told stories of the past never spoken of before and listened with great care, and most of all, They Talked.

They talked about themselves, about Aguri and Irinia and Karasuma. About the students, the school, the past, the memories, the best and worst times.

They talked about everything,

Except the future.

[padfootastic]

hohoho i am writing a remus & sirius confrontation that is ending up a little too mean and it’s verging on the edge of not fitting into FoD but by god, is it satisfying 😈😈😈

“Oh, stop pretending, Remus.” There’s a part of Sirius, not insignificant, that tells him to shut the fuck up. To bite back the words as he’d always done. They don’t expect it of him but he is perfectly capable of maintaining a civil tongue when needed. He just doesn’t want to, today. “You’ve always resented us, haven’t you?”

“Padfoot, do you even hear yourself—?” Remus’ amber eyes are bright, almost feverish, and Sirius knew that all he had to do was push.

So he did.

- brought to u by ‘i’ve been thinking about remus and i also recently read a fic that blindsided me w commentary on james’ and sirius’ social positions intimidating remus into compliance as an excuse for his cowardice and general temperament and got incredibly annoyed at how he is, yet again, victimised so i shall now endeavour to turn that idea around on its head using the ‘ol ‘u cannot help someone who does not want to be helped’ adage so help me god’

[wackywatchdotcom]

Rewatching episode one, I noticed that when Ragatha and Jax are talking to each other about Jax having a key, Pomni flinches away from, and lifts her arms to protect her face and head, when Jax toys with the key and catches it near her.

I wonder if she is that jumpy around others normally or if it's just when she's in a stressful situation (like suddenly being trapped in the circus) what do you think?

OK. ok. you mention this. and ive never said anything about it but i have genuinely noticed this almost every time ive seen that scene. i think about it a LOT but i havent been able to figure out my thoughts on it. but i think about it genuinely a LOT...

(i went on a huge tangent abt her thats like. only sporadically related to this specific moment SORRY. it was hard to address this moment without discussing a LOT about her i feel)

for the sake of clarity in the event someone reading this is unfamiliar, what this ask is referring to is this:

with the way that she so quickly dissociates and HARD (not that most people Never experience dissociation or smth, but its the intensity of it and how quick into this situation she starts dissociating is like. it makes it seem like its smth her body and mind are Used To Doing) she REALLY gives off the feeling that she had pre-existing mental health problems (i struggle to place anything TOO specific with the limited information we have but i feel like theres definitely a few things she has going on) before she even got to the circus, and like she COULD just be a naturally jumpy person, but with the dissociation thing and general distrust towards others, it feels like her jumpiness is also related to these issues

while her being naturally nervous is sort of implied and clear (though i think the extent of it is exaggerated by the circumstances of the pilot in particular) there ARE a few other examples that stand out to me

i THINK this can largely be passed off as her just being on edge from the horror adventure, but i this is IS notable that she reacts genuinely pretty strongly to what is a relatively minor 'jumpscare.' it happens later too w kinger pressing the tape recorder

in general she seems VERY easily startled by people, and frankly it reads a lot like it stems more from people being near her than just things happening abruptly. she notably doesnt jump hard when the angel arrives- she DOES get scared, but she isnt necessarily startled. she DOES react very strongly to ghostly, but i think its notable that she seems to find his visual appearance frightening and debatably not necessarily startling, but thats not really 100%. the times she reacts the strongest have to do with people, which imo ties HARD into her not trusting people

episode 2 breaks down her distrust of people well, and i dont think its a self consciousness thing. it seems more that she just doesnt tend to find people trustworthy- if something bad was happening to her, she would sooner assume theyd let it happen rather than help her. it could be argued that its partially a guilt or projection thing with ragatha, but im not actually so sure. pomni seems to be ashamed of leaving her behind, but particularly through ep 2 she doesnt seemed Plagued With Guilt by the way she acts towards ragatha, which implies that the dream didnt have to do with her projecting that shame in a way shed assume ragatha would turn back on her, too

it instead seems to be that she doesnt trust ragatha just... in general. the 'im not a child' thing, while a legitimate problem for pomni to have with ragatha (i love ragatha, and from my place in the audience i know her concern is genuine, and that she truly wants to encourage pomni, and is trying, but from the perspective of people around ragatha, its not an unreasonable assumption that shes JUST being infantilizing and belittling), does illuminate how pomni is seeing ragathas attempts at cheering her up- that it comes from a place of seeing pomni as immature or generally unstable. that pomni is incapable of managing herself and needs to be coaxed. it implies pomni doesnt see ragathas attempts at help as genuine. combined with her dream, that ragatha would allow the worst to happen to her even when she was asking for help, makes it very clear that, even with the 'nicest' person in the circus, pomni just... doesnt really trust her

(it is worth noting that pomni DOES seem to genuinely want to help ragatha in the pilot. she DID try to find caine. but she bolts at the first opportunity. she does care about people, but when stressed, she operates on keeping herself safe first and foremost, that she needs to do anything to get out of a bad situation even if that means leaving someone behind- and with her dream, it does seem that she generally assumes other people operate similarly, or otherwise in their own best interest)

this does, of course, improve by the end of eps 2 and 3. the funeral, and ragatha offering to include her, and how the others talk about abstracted players (combined with her conversation with gummigoo, someone who she has to assure has genuine friendships with those around him despite the lack of a true reality for them to be based upon), are able to convey that oh, these people do actually care about the people around them. theyre being genuine. they arent just looking out for themselves and thats it- they care when bad things happen to each other. and theres no true reason for me to be an exception. which is ALSO why i dont think its a self consciousness thing, she seems able to reason that shes not an exception to the intents of others, so much that when she cant assure herself that others' intents hold her safety as any sort of priority as well, any trust goes out the window. she WANTS to help if she can, but esp in the pilot, as far as shes concerned, its everyone for themself when shit gets bad, including herself

ep 3, she seems more trusting of ragatha- she has neutral and positive interactions w her, rather than assuming a lack of sincerity in it. but its not just ragatha, actually, because even before her talk with him, you can see it in how she interacts with kinger as well

she initially tries to help him run, which isnt too out there- with how she genuinely DID initially try to help ragatha, it doesnt require her to go out of her way to grab him and RUN. she can run AND take him with her. she can help without putting herself in extra danger. but then she DOES go back, which is one of my favorite and imo underrated pomni moments. because THIS is what i think actually highlights an improvement in how she sees the others before her apologizing to ragatha or taking kingers hand. because she puts herself BACK into (percieved, since its not actual sure WHAT the angels intentions were her) danger in order to get kinger away too

(theres probably a case to be made that ragatha didnt seem to be in immediate danger- she was in pain, that much was clear, but kaufmo had ran away by then. but even still, pomni couldnt have known kaufmo would shift gears and start chasing her instead of ragatha that first time. and i dont know if she actually knew death wasnt possible here yet. which isnt very flattering for pomni but also people do not act in flattering ways under extreme stress, esp given a predisposition to not trusting others, which ill elaborate more on in a second here- not that pomnis abandonment was ok OR that it was like evil of her or smth. shes just a person. there is no way she was prepared to know how to act correctly in this situation, and she didnt)

theres also this

which is SUBTLE but highlights a genuine increase in trust even before their heart to heart. now that she knows the cast (save for jax, who she seems to react to the harshest, which is worth noting imo) are not acting solely in their own best interest, that they WILL consider the wellbeing of those around them including her, that their concern for one another is genuine (which is concerning that she even assumes that to begin with, which ill circle back to momentarily), she very clearly has way more faith in them and the idea that she should stick around the others for safety

and of course, ive said it before, but her taking kingers hand has little to do with her enjoying holding hands. its her knowing that, if kingers wrong, this is going to end very, very badly. if holding their breath isnt the solution theyre BOTH going to get possessed, and who knows how theyd get out of that situation. but she decides in that moment that her trust in the others isnt ONLY about looking out for them and believing that theyre sincere in their concern for her. but that she is willing to let the others put her at a potential massive risk. getting possessed was a blatantly immediately traumatic experience- and she lets kinger put her at risk of it happening again. THATS why she holds his hand, at least symbolically. she doesnt like contact. but she can brave something that she doesnt like, she can let him lead her into and through something potentially horrific, because shes deciding to trust him and the others, that theyre not just people she can interact with without fear of ill intentions, but that theyre people who she is going to coexist with. the best thing she can do for herself and the others is trust them and work with them actively

anyway that got off-track, the point being that her having to have these ideas instilled in her at all through shared experiences and trauma implies that, while these issues with distrust may have been exacerbated by the stress of everything, they didnt come from nowhere. these are problems she likely already had to some degree. its great that theres been improvement but that improvement directly implies thesse were improvements that needed to be made to begin with. and the fact that the person she gets repeatedly most startled by is jax. who, even with episode 2, she explicitly doesnt trust. in the pilot, at least, her distrust is more vague (i think the dream sequence in ep 2 IS what highlights it best) so her flinching from jax can be passed off as related to a general lack of adjustment to the new environment and situation shes in. but it happens again with jax in episode 3 (and, notably, she pauses afterwards but it takes a moment for her to relax even knowing its just jax), after shes adjusted somewhat, and after shes gained some trust with everyone except for jax (given his absence from the scene at the end of ep 2). it also happens when barons voice plays abruptly next to her

point being that imo, she IS naturally jumpy. she says herself that she doesnt handle jumpscares well, which somewhat implies this even outside of the circumstances of the circus. but with how she reacts to things, it feels like her general jumpiness is far, far worse when it comes to people she doesnt trust (be it because jax is Like That, or because shes not familiar with baron). the way i see it, then, her distrust extends to perceiving physical threats easily around people she hasnt ensured are safe to be around. she IS able to gain this trust in people, but she seems to automatically place the intents of others as being Potentially Unsafe from the jump, especially under stress. she can jump back from it fairly quickly for what its worth, but to be honest, it seems more like she operates on some general, everpresent level of hypervigilance thats just sometimes worse based on the situation

and frankly i dont think we know enough about her as of ep 4 to fully determine if there IS a reason for this. because someone can have a reason to be this jumpy around others, or they can just... be nervous and dislike people moving suddenly near them. combined with the dissociation thing, though, im inclined to think the circus did not cause this, just made it more extreme with more unpleasant stakes. there is hardly any time between her entering the circus and this happening. she hadnt even seen kaufmo yet in that very first example, but she was already on alert for a physical threat, and i just. i think about it all the time...

i think the main takeaway from all of this is that i think she isnt necessarily jumpy like that all the time, but i think trust is not a given with pomni, and her jumpiness massively depends on how much she trusts people near her and the situation shes in to not be a physical threat to her. its definitely worse in the circus, but i think it was probably still something present in a different context in the real world, too

[bleaksqueak]

Woah dang, waking up to 99+ notifs on tumblr almost always means that an old Homestuck piece is going around again... imagine my delighted surprise to see it was all notifs about Soli! That was a great thing to wake up to. Felt an actual flutter in my chest. Thank you so much, everyone! And apologies for how Elias' hair keeps subtly changing. You always kind of figure out exactly how a character looks and how to draw them as you go along with sequential art. It, funny enough, largely comes from figuring out their acting (so lots and lots of different angles and features that need to shift/change slightly to carry the weight of looking like they should feel, for lack of a better way to describe it ) At any rate, glad to see people are excited for chapter 3! next update will be next week, and will be a two page spread.

[sparklecur]

almer dialogue is a pain in the bee hind to get the hang of so just assume any of his dialogue will be rewritten at some point but alnyways heres a random fic snippet

[gailynovelry]

Sometimes, deleting things counts as writing.

[feniverse-unfiltered]

AU’s I’m thinking about tonight:

TriMax Vash & Wolfwood western au (they’re outlaws taking refuge in an “abandoned” barn when Fen stumbles across them)

Tristamp baseball AU (literally the ONLY reason this is on my mind is because of that one baseball post that goes around every once in awhile where a baseball player is talking to a reporter and a ball comes flying towards the reporter and the guy just nonchalantly glances back and catches it. I want to draw Wolfwood and Meryl in that situation)

Kids’ soccer coach AU (the only reason this came to mind is because I think it’d be VERY funny to have Tristamp Wolfwood and Em be coaches for two different kids teams and have this intense rivalry and then confused referee Vash and a bunch of clueless little kids in the background )

EDIT: sandwiching this into the single dad AU. Wolfwood is the coach for the girls soccer team, Em is coaching for the boys, they argue about who gets the field which day

Additionally: Modern AU where Fen works at a Nature Center at a park that Vash likes to visit a lot, and one day he brings Wolfwood with him (who isn't much of a nature guy/outdoors-y person) but once he meets Fen he's captivated and he keeps coming back to "hike" just to chat with her ;-;

[catzz089]

Lestappen ask game anyone???

Put That Guy in a SituationTM Ask Game/Prompt!

For when you want to put your favorite little guy (gender neutral) in a fanfic-type Situation. Send in a fandom, character(s), and/or relationship/ship as well as a number (or a few!) Feel free to use for fanfic, art, or whatever you choose!

Touch starved/cuddle curse

Time loop

Misunderstandings

Mind meld/telepathy/mind reading

Amnesia

Reverse amnesia (everyone else has no memory/recognition of your character)

Trapped in a room/closet/elevator

“Who did this to you?”

Sleep deprivation

Framed for a crime they didn’t commit

Hiding from pursuers

Turned invisible

Drunken/drugged/sleepy confessions

Role swap

Soulmates

Meeting past/future self

Tending to an injury/wound/illness

Possession/Mind control 

De-aged

Personality swap

Fear poison/gas

Truth or dare/party games

Loss of powers/abilities/skills

Showing up injured at their friend/mentor’s house

Showing up injured at their enemy’s house

Group project/team effort

Demon summoning

Curse of obedience/can’t disobey a direct order (the “Ella Enchanted”)

Time jumping/time travel/fix-it

Only one bed

Cursed/turned into an animal

Body swap

Reincarnation 

Love spell/curse/potion

Hatred spell/curse/potion

Avalanche/huddle for warmth

Secret relationship

Multiverse/meeting alternate version of self

Avoiding a conversation

Identity reveal/major secret revealed

Panic attacks

True love’s kiss/breaking a curse

Fake dating 

Arranged marriage

Realization of feelings at the Worst Possible Moment

Confessions during an argument

Sickfic/caretaking

Enemy caretaker

Self-sacrificial

Meet cute

Meet ugly/awkward first meetings

Fake death/presumed dead

Wings/supernatural body features

Kidnapping

Mutual Pining (+ Oblivious)

Mutual platonic/familial yearning

Accidental hand-holding

Crying

Lying curse/forced to lie about something

Truth Serum/spell

[kianamaiart]

Growing an audience takes time and getting people to care about your characters can often take more time. I've done a bunch of OCs in the past but none of them really got traction until my IDWTBAMG OCs. I steadily grew my social media following for well over a decade. A lot of checking socialblade, looking at analytics and generally drawing/posting everyday. I have a whole doc available about this type of stuff.

There's no particular shortcut other than happening to go viral or getting really lucky. But I will say "branding" or carving out a niche for yourself over time helps. Although I've been in a number of different fandoms over the past 15 years I've been on the internet, the kind of art I do has been pretty consistent. Lots of shorter, light hearted comics or vignettes highlighting relationships (be them romantic, platonic or familial) and people started enjoying my work for my writing style more so than just what fandom I was creating for.

Finding your community, creating stuff that aligns with those communities and engaging with others is huge. A lot of my work prior to IDWTBAMG centered queer people (specifically sapphics), Black and Asian folks and stylistically is very anime/modern western cartoon inspired. It's what became known for in fandom spaces and what people were following me for. So when I finally did make IDWTBAMG, a concept with anime influences, in a western cartoon style, with two Black, sapphic leads, it just fit right into what I was already doing. Like if you grew your following from doing cute, slice of life stuff, then suddenly dropped a psychological horror comic, chances are it's not gonna grab a large part of your audience. Might bring some new folks in, but you're ultimately kinda starting over and pivoting (that's why rebrands are hard to pull off). This may not be the best example but hopefully you get what I mean. Appeal to the communities you've fostered!

I hate using corporate speak for art but if you ARE trying sell your ideas to people and get your work out there, you do kinda have to learn how to market yourself and your art to some extent. Get in the head of a marketing agent or a brand manager. What's popular right now? How can I use that to my advantage? What times should I be posting my artwork to get the most eyes on this? Who is my target audience and how do I effectively appeal to them while staying true to my own work? Stuff like that. Genuinely, studying how social media managers operate as well as just observing how businesses market their products helped me a lot. "Okay I'm making this animatic, but it won't come out for the next four months. How do I keep people interested and hyped for that amount of time leading up to the pilot's release? I'll keep doing comics here and there so people connect with the characters by the time the pilot comes out. Once I get he VAs recorded, I'll make posts to get people hyped for the casting. I'll upload snippets and behind the scenes stuff to give people a taste of what's to come. I'll release during Black History Month since this is a Black led project with Black characters. I'll have a specific upload time at peak hours to get a good amount of people watching for the premiere and to give the pilot a good running start." This was all stuff I was taking into consideration and planning for.

Then generally, I think people connect to characters more than anything. You can have a cool concept and fun world building ideas but if your execution is bad and your characters aren't compelling, what's the point, y'know? IDWTBAMG isn't a particularly novel concept imo, but I think its strengths lie in the characters and how they interact. The concept is just a tool to give the character dynamics and relationships legs to stand on. So few of the comics I've done with these guys have to do with their lore, it's just small interactions of the girls in class, at a convenience store or just talking to each other in a void. Even though it's simple, that's often the kind of thing people connect with.

Then there's just the technical aspect of having appealing drawing! Getting better at your craft, if nothing else, is good for catching eyes and helping with your execution of your project. While it's not always necessary, I think it helps a lot. I know there's a lot of people who follow me just because they personally like my art style and character design.

Not sure how helpful this actually is LOL. It really does just kinda take time. We all have to start somewhere. I was a "small artist" too at one point. It was years of trial and error, mental breakdowns, finding my own artistic voice and posting artwork almost daily for like 5 years straight. I do think that's why IDWTBAMG ended up being so special to me. It really does feel like a culmination of everything I've learned and all that hard work up to this point and people can kinda feel that.

[blade-liger-4ever]

Why I think Miko Nakadai is arguably the best human character in TFP

Don't misunderstand, I know Miko was handled haphazardly throughout the series' run. That said, aside from her skipping off into the battlefield, she was actually a great character - and, in my personal opinion, the actual audience surrogate character in TFP.

Now, let me explain.

Although Miko's backstory is told and not shown - a rich daughter who had everything she could ever want, up to and including two pure-breed cats and piano lessons from age three onwards (which, coincidentally, tells us she's brainy despite her antics) - much can be inferred from what snippets of her past we get, along with her interactions with the Autobots. For one, she obviously can't stand most adult supervision, which is likely because of a few things. For one, back home in Japan, Miko would have had to be proper and polite, always restrained, and had to do what she was told. While this is normal (to an extent) in the West, in the East this is etiquette that needs to be obeyed, especially if you're as well off as she is; her actions, specifically in Japan, will reflect on her parents, but to a far lesser extent in America. Thus, when presented with the freedoms of the USA, Miko not only jumps at the chance for an exchange program that will give her the mobility she craves, she also chooses the place that has the least amount of glamor. By extension of choosing to settle in Jasper, Miko's also displaying two other traits: she's not afraid of going to a place vastly different from her home, and she isn't disgusted by a small town with very little monetary value to it.

Secondly, Miko's disregard for authority from adults but deference to the 'Bots teases us with an insecurity - namely, an insecurity that no adult ever gives her a chance to make her own decisions.

Just think about it: All the times Miko's blown off the human adults, it's when they've tried to decide her life for her. Miko has, from what we can see, had her whole life dictated, up to and including those piano lessons. She may be a prodigy at almost everything, but her preferred instrument is the guitar - and yet, she wasn't given lessons in that from the time she was a toddler. Therefore, she feels confined and controlled by the authority of her elders. And so, while Miko may be able to sway Bulkhead into getting her out of detention and consistently slip past the watchful eyes of the 'Bots, it's out of a desperate motivation to control her own life. Now, she does hold too much interest in the battles and getting to watch them, but wouldn't you have that same eagerness if Gundams or Jaegers came to life before your eyes? Yes, she knows their lives are in danger, that they couldn't come home, but there's still a fantastical element to all of this about the Autobots. And it remains so because while she loves them all, Bulkhead is the only one who, while giving her life advice and trying to keep her in check/alive, lets her make her own decisions and take control of her life and her actions.

And that's why she keeps going to the field. That's why she only listens to the reprimands with half an ear and why she recovers so fast from Optimus' near death experiences, as well as Raf's close call with death.

And that's why Miko's world shatters when Bulkhead is left in a half-dead coma from his fight with Hardshell. Because the one person in the universe who gave her freedom and care without deciding her life for her was not just seriously injured, but possibly on death's door.

That's why Miko runs around without a care until the S2 episode "Hurt": because she wants autonomy to decide her life, even if it's stupid choices that could get her killed.

And after "Hurt", we see a new Miko. Yes, she remains gung-ho and fierce, but she stops running onto the battlefield. She takes less enjoyment from the War. Because now, with the reality of war fresh in her mind, she knows the risks and the stakes involved, and she will never take that or her friends for granted anymore. This is further proved when Miko 'sneaks' along for "Chain of Command", but with a twist: she asks Wheeljack if she can come along - and if memory serves, this is the first mission Bulkhead's been on with herself present since the events before "Hurt". Clearly, Miko is still worried about losing Bulkhead - only, this time, she values the words of the 'Bots, and now seeks permission to join a mission, though she wisely asks Wheeljack for this blessing.

This is the beautiful part of her arc, crowned by her battle with Starscream and his Seekers (which is also just straight up awesome.) When she's kicked the afts of everyone, and Starscream tries to intimidate her with his usual "I killed Cliffjumper" speech, Miko's response is this calm, slightly rough, retort:

"Big whoop. I snuffed Hardshell."

In this moment, Miko Nakadai is shown to have grown from an excitable child into an unyielding, but mature, adult warrior. She no longer treats the War and the 'Bots like a game, or a release. She treats them as her friends who she will gladly risk her own life for.

And that, in my opinion, makes her the best human protagonist in all of Transformers: Prime, and Transformers media in general.

As for what I said earlier about her being the true audience surrogate, be honest with yourselves: If any of us were given the chance to meet the Autobots, wouldn't you be just as irrepressible as Miko, as eager to help as she was, and tempted to go to the battlefield to see the action/make sure your 'Bot wasn't going to die? That's what I mean when I say she's the audience surrogate - Miko acts like we would, and learns as we would about the War and the 'Bots if we suddenly came across them.

That's my two cents on Miko, and why she's the human character I respect the most in Transformers...probably of all time. If you liked it, I'm glad; Miko deserves better, and I hope I explained why well.

Til next time, folks!

"Autobots, transform!"

[ssa-dado]

Burgandy Swim Cap

triathlon!Aaron Hotchner x fleabag!reader Genre: meet-a-cute but you're mainly just ogling at Hotch as he swims in a speedo. Summary: You know those encounters that last, like, five seconds where literally nothing happens but still manage to blossom into a full-blown crush? Yeah. That. Partly because you're chronically single. Partly because you’re starved for attention. Mostly because you saw him in a speedo. A tight speedo. A tight, half-metallic speedo. A tight, half-metallic, very low-waisted speedo. So really, it’s not a crush, it’s cause and effect. Also… he’s a dad. Too. Warnings: objectification of the Hotchner body (called out twice for not having an ass, affectionately), implied age gap, sexual jokes and cuss words Word Count: 4.7k Dado's Corner: I genuinely don’t know how to tag the reader... but she’s giving me fleabag energy… so, uhmmm, let’s roll with that. Huge thanks and smooches to @hotchology for developing and proofreading the snippets I dropped in your dms at 11 pm unprompted 🧎‍♀️

masterlist(s)

It’s not your fault you’re staring out the cafeteria window that just so happens to overlook the pool. You’re literally facing it. What else are you supposed to do - dislocate your neck inhumanly to look the other way?

That window was meant for people-watching.

Specifically, for anxious parents to spy on their kids mid-paddle without interrupting the lesson every time little Aiden coughs. It’s not your fault you’re childless and currently repurposing the feature to ogle burgundy-swim-cap guy in lane four.

You’re just… respecting the building’s original design intent.

You needed the distraction. Desperately.

Because beside you, your friend is once again delivering the extended director’s cut of that five-minute interaction with the guy she’s allegedly, absolutely, 100% over.

The conversation happened three months ago.

You know this.

Because she has broken it down line by line for three months.

Every pause. Every blink.

So maybe you are a bad friend. Possibly a terrible person. Because while she unpacks every microscopic detail of his “Oh, I’m sorry I stepped on your toe”, you’re mentally calculating burgundy-swim-cap guy’s exact height.

From twelve feet up. Through water. And glass.

And okay… maybe it’s not just the height.

Maybe it’s also the length of his... arms.

Arms.

His arms.

Long, sinuous things slicing through the water like art. Like poetry. Like that one ballet you pretended to enjoy but secretly napped through.

This is different. This is science. You’re just appreciating form. Physics. Hydrodynamics, anatomy, geometry… all the -ometrics.

You’re not objectifying. You’re observing. A selfless academic pursuit, really.

Especially when he glides under one, two, three lane dividers in a single breath, back muscles shifting and flexing with each kick.

And God… his back. You can’t stop staring at it.

Wide. Solid. Disproportionately large, especially considering the man has absolutely zero ass. None. Negative ass. Just ten uninterrupted feet of legs. Stunning.

But it’s the manners that do it.

Because the moment he reaches the ladder and sees the lady from lane one headed there too?

He pauses. Actually waits. Even though he got there first. Doesn’t try to squeeze past her or pretend he didn’t see - no, he stops.

Gives her space. Gestures her to go. Looks away, even.

Eyes politely drifting up the tiled wall, to the stands below you where the suburban invasion of moms has taken hold, to the bright flags swaying just behind the cafeteria window -

Until he lifts his head a little too high.

Fuck… did he just catch you mid-stare? You can’t tell. The goggles - those hideous, mirrored cheap goggles - reflect everything and nothing at once.

Maybe he sees you.

Maybe he doesn’t.

Maybe your face is just a blurry little ghost in his periphery.

Either way, your entire body goes hot and rigid. You peel your eyes away - casually, discreetly, nod to your friend to pretend you’re still listening to her - but not entirely.

You still watch. You have to.

Because he’s about to rise from the pool. And you need to see it.

For research purposes.

For the sacred cause of scientific accuracy. You have to confirm if your earlier measurements were correct the moment he steps out of the water.

They weren’t.

Because he’s bigger. So much bigger.

You can’t tell exactly by how much, though, because the moment his biceps flex - thick and veiny - as he hauls himself up the ladder, your brain just… packs its bags and leaves.

Bye.

All higher function is instantly rerouted to the way the water clings to him - refuses to let go, even gravity is struggling to move on.

(Honestly? Fair. You wouldn’t want to let go either… you’re actually kind of jealous.)

Jealous of how those droplets trace his body - how most of them drip obediently, following the grooves of his muscles, but some linger. They pool in the thick mat of dark curls across his chest, clinging for dear life.

And why wouldn’t they? He’s covered in them.

A slick, glistening mess of wet hair clings to his pecs - dark curls matted down and glinting under the pool lights, looking so soft and stupidly biteable you could probably get arrested just for thinking about it.

Then the curls start to gather. Real organized.

Forming this tidy relatively thin line that runs straight down the center of his chest, gliding over the elegant suggestion of abs - not shredded, but sculpted. Classy, if that’s even possible.

The line of hair dips past his belly button and practically screams into your long-gone neural functions: lick here.

(And you would. With honor. For science. For the flag.)

Because then the trail spreads at his waistband, curling out along his obliques, a pair of sirens luring you to the main event: his very, very low-waisted speedo.

Duo-chrome. Black and something... metallic. Wicked.

The black half pretends to behave.

It lies to your face, “Look at me, look at me,” it says. “I’m discreet. I’m functional. I’m keeping things tasteful.”

But it’s a filthy little traitor. Because right next to it, the metallic side is doing everything but staying subtle. It wasn’t camouflaging a damn thing.

Topography: fully visible. The contour. The definition. The godforsaken outline.

Traceable. With a pencil.

Or your tongue.

Preferably your tongue.

Preferably slow. Possibly kneeling. Definitely grateful.

Because whatever anatomical miracle is happening beneath that lycra – truly might be the eighth wonder of the world built between two hipbones.

These are sickeningly good dick proportions.

Burgandy Swim Cap guy peels off the ugly goggles.

Be fucking damned. That is a hell of a face.

The suction rings frame his eyes - tender little indents where he clearly strapped those goggles too tight.

He’s a try-hard.

A confirmed overachiever - you can tell. It’s in the way he did those laps earlier - efficient, ruthless, mechanical - and in the speed too. Like every stroke was on a timer. Like there was something at stake.

Is burgundy-swim-cap guy training for something?

Maybe he’s a professional swimmer.

Maybe he’s training for a triathlon. The 2012 Olympics in London. A shot at some world record no one else cares about.

Maybe he’s an eldest son.

Maybe he’s got a dad who never said “I’m proud of you” without a follow-up critique.

Maybe he’s still trying to earn praise that never came.

Maybe it’s daddy issues - maybe it’s mommy issues. Issues… in general.

Maybe he’s spent his whole life needing to be exceptional just to feel enough.

Maybe he’s been through a heartbreak. A divorce. A loss.

Maybe he just has a lot of feelings and refuses to talk about any of them unless he’s actively swimming them to death.

Or maybe he’s just that guy - the kind who doesn’t do anything unless he can do it at 120%, even when no one’s watching. Especially when no one’s watching.

Maybe he holds himself to impossible standards because he doesn’t know how not to. Who swims like this because it’s the one place he can fail in private.

Who knows. Who cares.

He’s just a guy.

A man.

A stranger you’ve never even spoken to.

You don’t know his name, his voice, anything.

And yet, there’s something about him.

Something in the slope of his nose, in the way his flushed cheeks are still chasing the rhythm of his pulse, in the rise and fall of his chest. It’s not bodybuilder-big, not exaggerated - but it feels massive.

Maybe it’s just because it’s him.

Because every breath he takes stretches that hairy chest just a little wider, a little broader, until the space around you feels like it’s shrinking, like there’s not enough air left in the room that isn’t his.

You’re fine. You are totally fine.

You’re also clenching your thighs for absolutely no reason. None.

Until - he removes the burgundy swim cap.

Now you do have a reason.

Because beneath it is this obscene head of raven-black hair.

Thick. Damp. Unruly.

Some of it’s clinging to his forehead, but the rest is sticking out in a thousand different directions like it doesn’t give a single shit about streamlining or aerodynamics.

He looks deliciously messy.

But he doesn’t let it stay.

No, he runs his hand through it almost immediately, slicking it back, a man who cannot stand the chaos of hair across his eyes, he can’t stand being out of place.

Control freak. Freak in general.

That tracks.

Still hot.

Hotter.

And still, he doesn’t play to the crowd.

He could - he should - scan the room, make eye contact, maybe throw in a wink or a casual flex. He could at least give a nod to the fact that half the people on this side of the glass are currently 1,461 words deep into mentally drafting smutty fiction with him as the main character.

But no.

He just looks down, slides into his pathetic little (from where you’re standing… sitting.) pool slippers, and rushes toward the changing rooms like he’s late to something.

A loser. An absolute loser.

It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

You’re completely captivated - so much so that, when your friend finally finishes her emotional postmortem and disappears down the corridor toward the pool, you subtly change seats to get a better view of the hallway.

A strategic move, just in case burgundy-swim-cap guy decides he’s earned a post-swim coffee after all that aquatic foreplay you projected onto him from the safety of your horny little imagination.

Well. You’re getting coffee, at least. You deserve a reward. A hot, mildly burnt one.

You’ve been through a lot.

Except it’s possibly the worst line you’ve ever stood in because you had the genius idea to go for caffeine at the exact same time the children’s swim class ended.

Now you’re trapped - shoulder to shoulder with a damp, shrieking mob of underdeveloped humans all demanding hot dogs, pizza, cheeseburgers, and, from the look in one child’s eyes, possibly the cashier’s soul.

You’ve entered a purgatory of sticky fingers and pure indecision, where time slows and the line somehow clogs even more with every passing second.

It’s not their fault - children are absolute demons in Crocs. They don’t know what they want. They pause. They backtrack.

One child is negotiating for “just the cheese from the cheeseburger, but on a hot dog bun,” and you are watching, in real time, the unraveling of Western civilization.

…You hate that you respect the innovation.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

You just really, really don’t want to miss Burgundy Swim Cap Guy if he happens to pass by - maybe in jeans, maybe (if there’s any justice left in the universe) grey sweatpants, or a hoodie two sizes too big.

Something casual. Unassuming.

Something that dares to cover everything you now know is under there - and somehow makes it worse.

Something that’s the reason your mouth is dry and you’re stuck in this line, mentally begging for something warm to wrap your lips around and feel vaguely hydrated again.

You’re trying to be patient. You’re trying not to hate the one kid crying because his juice is too red and his dad fumbling with his wallet.

You’re a monster. The worst kind of person.

These kids are innocent.

They’re not responsible for the slow-burn, will-they-won’t-they fantasy you’ve constructed entirely in your touch-starved brain - just to distract yourself from the fact that you haven’t been held in actual, human arms in months, your last situationship ended because they “forgot they weren’t single,” the closest thing you’ve had to intimacy this year was a barista remembering your name – once - and, okay, technically there was also that one time a man with a van asked if you “liked adventure,” but you don’t count that unless you're feeling especially pathe-

“That’ll be $2.50,” says the cashier.

Snaps you instantly back to the cruel reality where the only thing you're taking home tonight is a stupid plastic bracelet that’s already cutting into your wrist and the lingering scent of disinfectant.

(Good luck taking that away.)

You hand him a twenty.

He looks at you, deadpan, like he’s about to ask if your sad little wallet also holds the answer to the mental math problem he just did in half a second - the kind of calculation only a man with a degree in math or engineering could do, now tragically stuck working in a depressing public pool cafeteria.

Not even a cool street café. No latte art. No jazz music. Just chlorine and despair.

You give him a sheepish half-smile.

The twenty is all you had.

Okay - technically you had 50 cents too.

Maybe.

In loose change that’s probably fused with gum wrappers and lint at the bottom of your bag but explaining that feels like a one-way ticket to having a burnt cappuccino tossed in your face.

It’s 2011. Surely cafeterias still carry change.

…Apparently not.

“Card?” he asks.

You have exactly $1.78 on your card. You know this because you checked this morning, like the responsible adult you pretend to be.

This is bad.

This is humiliating.

This is the exact kind of character-building moment that turns into a core memory your brain will randomly replay at 3 a.m. for the next seven years.

The kids behind you are screaming. (Except one. One child is calmly and confidently negotiating a pizza-inside-a-burger situation with his father, who looks like he lost custody in the divorce and also in this conversation.)

And then there are the dads, too. You can feel them. Judging you.

You don’t even need to turn around.

Which is a shame, really. Because you love dads. You’re hopelessly, helplessly, filthily attracted to dads.

Hot dads? Daddy dads? Men with crow’s feet and deep voices who say things like “I’ll take care of it” and mean it? Slightly emotionally unavailable men with strong forearms, guilt complexes, and unresolved trauma they process exclusively through precision lawn edging and Sunday barbecue duty?

Inject that straight into your bloodstream.

You want them tired. You want them emotionally repressed. You want them to carry patio furniture like it weighs nothing and grunt when they sit down. You want to be a problem.

But these dads?

Their suburban dad disapproval is so potent it might as well be playing on loop over the intercom right between announcements for lost goggles and swim meet fundraisers.

These dads would ask about your five-year plan, nod thoughtfully, then ghost you via a LinkedIn message.

These dads are not for you.

These dads can go.

And so you panic. Sweat. Freeze. Until-

A hand.

A large hand.

Chubby-fingered, hairy, left-handed and wrapped in the crisp white cuff of a very expensive white shirt, peeking out from an even more expensive black suit jacket.

There’s a Rolex on his wrist. A real one.

That same hand, gentle and unbothered, slides a credit card (which looks comically small in those thick fingers, by the way) right into the reader, where $2.50 is already floating on the screen.

“I got it,” says a voice.

Oh.

Oh no.

It’s deep. Unreasonably deep. The kind of voice that should be illegal before noon.

And soft, too, absurdly soft for how deep it is because the vibrations travel straight from your ear to your… there. There, there.

You turn. Slowly.

And there he is.

A man.

(Surprise!)

Not just a man – a Man. Capital M, bolded, underlined, possibly trademarked if your bank account could handle the licensing fee.

He’s in a suit. In a full suit. Black jacket. White shirt. Burgundy tie.

You blink… wait is that- no way.

It’s him.

It’s Burgundy Swim Cap Guy.

Now in Burgundy Tie.

He matched.

Goddamn it. What a loser. What a hot, meticulous loser.

Oh, Burgundy Swim Cap man.

Yeah, let’s get that correction in there. Man.

Because up close, in proper daylight and expensive tailoring, he’s clearly way older than he looked in the pool. Deliciously older kind of old.

… And here you thought he was your age. (You were wrong. Again.)

All the better.

You barely recognize him in this polished version of himself - drenched in a cologne that costs more than your monthly grocery budget and somehow isn’t obnoxious.

It’s that expensive.

It’s not that aquatic bullshit guys in finance wear.

No. It’s warm. Inviting. Woodsy. A little smoky.

Expensive in the way that makes you want to bury your face in his neck and inhale until you black out while pretending you weren’t about to fall in love over his clavicle. (Yeah… too specific?)

And beneath it - just a trace - chlorine.

God help you.

You’re going to die here.

He even has a cowlick. A perfectly smoothed cowlick.

The kind that clearly took time, effort, wrist action, and probably a round brush.

He blow-dries.

He has a routine. A regimen. He has systems.

He’s probably terrifying in the morning. The kind of man who folds things. The kind who knows where his passport is right now.

Now, now.

But now he’s looking at you, brows thick, slightly furrowed.

Do you have something on your face? No. Can’t be.

No, you’ve just been staring at him like a feral raccoon. You still haven’t spoken.

…right.

“…Thank you,” you manage, barely audible - just as his phone starts ringing in his jacket pocket.

Drowned out by technology. Your gratitude swallowed by a default ringtone, who would have ever guessed.

He pulls the phone out, and just before he lifts it to his ear, you catch something - someone’s voice on the other end. A name? His? Yes they’re calling him it must’ve been his. Something clipped, ending in -chh or -shhh.

Josh?

Oh. Huh.

…Kind of disappointing.

You thought his name would be more... posh. Like something that comes with personalized cufflinks and generational trauma

….but Josh? That’s a guy who texts “you up?” at 11:48 PM from his blackberry pearl.

You hoped for more… syllables.

Whatever. What really surprises you is that Burgundy Swim Cap Man-slash-Josh-slash-Posh doesn’t say a word during the call. Not one.

He just holds the phone to his ear and stares - intensely - at a spot inside the glass food display. Not blinking. Not moving.

You’re genuinely concerned for the sandwich he’s glaring at. (It’s about five seconds away from bursting into flames.)

And you - you ache for that stare.

You want it on you. Burn it into your skin. You’d commit actual, punishable crimes for that kind of violent visual attention.

“Garcia, send me the files. We’ll brief the team as soon as I arrive,” he says - voice all business, clipped, calm, so authoritative it almost makes you bite your lip on reflex.

Then the phone disappears back into his pocket like it’s never existed, and without missing a beat: “An Americano, please.”

…Why doesn’t this surprise you? Could he be any more predictably boring? Go on, order a plain bagel and a side of unseasoned guilt while you’re at it.

But his eyes flick to the pastry shelf instead.

Brows furrow, slightly, sexily, offensively; he’s clearly doing some kind of emotional calculus about whether his swim earned him the moral right to a treat.

(He probably didn’t get many growing up.)

“And, uh… can I get the rainbow muffin to go?” he says, pointing with his chubby index finger toward the kids' menu.

You follow it (like an idiot).

And there it is. The muffin. Rainbow-sprinkled. Rainbow dough. Probably tastes like chemical vanilla. Pastel wrapper. Comes with a bubble blower, too.

A muffin. With a toy.

…This man.

You hate him. You want him. You’d marry him on sight.

He picks up the phone again. Dials. Calm. Efficient.

“Hey, can you pass me to Jack?” he says.

The frown - just a flicker ago, all sharp lines and no-nonsense jaw - melts. His face softens like he’s been flipped to a different setting and you actually flinch a little because how is that the same face?

“Hey, buddy.”

Oh. God, his voice. It goes soft. Stupidly soft.

“I’ve gotta be at work a little earlier today,” he murmurs, gently gripping the phone. “But I got you something… did you finish your homework?”

May you be absolutely, irreparably damned.

He’s a dad.

“Good job, buddy. I’m coming home soon, okay? Got you a surprise,” He glances down at the rainbow muffin. A little fond. A little sad, even. “Yes, you can do movie night with Aunt Jessica if I don’t manage to be there tonight…”

You wander how many other movie nights he missed.

“Yes, buddy,” he chuckles (you want to bite through drywall), “No, I didn’t forget the popcorn this time. You can have them with Aunt Jessica, she knows where they are… Yes, with salted caramel too. But don’t eat too much, alright?”

He pauses. Adds, with a soft little dad scold, “Make Aunt Jessica have some too this time. Save a few for Daddy, okay?”

Daddy.

Your knees give out.

No, not literally. You keep standing. But spiritually? Morally? Muscularly? You’ve dropped to the floor.

And then, casually, cruelly, he reaches for his coffee. With his ringless - yes, ringless - hand.

Not that you’re thinking about it. Not that you noticed. Not that you checked. Twice.

“Alright, buddy, I gotta go,” he says. His voice lowers again, not serious, just softer. Like he doesn’t want to hang up but he’s used to having to. “I’ll see you tonight. Be good, okay?” And then he smiles. To his phone. Like his whole face is a love letter.

Dimples. Of course. Of course this man has dimples. A loser dad with dimples.

“Love you too, bud”

And that’s it.

Phone call over.

You should walk away. You want to walk away.

But now you’re locked in that awkward limbo of mutual acknowledgment - the cursed micro-social contract that binds all humans in public spaces: you made eye contact, you must now exchange a minimum of one sentence to confirm shared reality.

He turns to you.

You are sweating. You are visibly short-circuiting.

No one is saying anything.

Fuck.

You shouldn’t have listened to his very personal call to his very personal son.

You shouldn’t have looked.

You shouldn’t have stared so hard you could recite the ingredients list on that muffin.

Fuck.

His shoulders look even broader in the suit.

Not just handsome - no, broad. Imposing.

Too bad the slacks are hiding his massi-

“The bubble blower’s for my kid,” he says, suddenly.

A preemptive strike. A full-grown man in what has to be his mid-40s, clarifying that he is not, in fact, personally invested in aquatic toy acquisition.

Funny, though - he didn’t feel the need to defend the rainbow pastry.

Interesting.

Bad for him.

“The muffin’s for the dad instead?” You nod toward the sad pastel pile in his hand.

(You’re a bit of a mean flirt - not because you’re heartless, but because it’s the only way you know how to hold on to a little power when someone makes your brain turn to mush.)

If you can’t stop yourself from falling for them, at least you can make sure they’re a little off-balance, too.

“If the dad’s lucky, he’ll probably get just a bite,” he replies, deadpan - like, completely expressionless except for the slight raise of his eyebrows at the end. You don’t even know where the voice came from. His mouth barely moved.

…Ventriloquism, probably.

Then he glances down at the linoleum floor. Smiles, almost shy.

“My son has a sweet tooth.”

Fucking hell.

This man is gushing about his kid to a total stranger in a pool cafeteria. No hesitation. No shame.

You are two seconds away from him flipping open his photo gallery and showing you twenty-five nearly identical pictures of a child covered in chocolate frosting, all while holding the phone in those massive hands.

God, his hands.

You really need to stop noticing them.

“Get a muffin for yourself too,” you say, tossing it out like a joke. Half-meaning it. Mostly-meaning it.

He chuckles, raises a hand, shaking his head. “Oh no…”

“Scared of food coloring?”

“No, no,” he laughs again. “Just…” He shrugs. Doesn’t finish. Leaves it there, hanging.

Is it because he doesn’t think he deserves a little treat?

Or because he’s afraid of getting that crisp, probably dry-clean-only shirt stained with rainbow frosting?

“How much is one rainbow muffin?” you ask the cashier.

(You two are best friends in your head now.)

He barely looks up. Dead inside. “One seventy.”

(This friendship might be one-sided.)

You blink.

$1.70 for frozen dough and a toy that doubles as a choking hazard… meanwhile, your cappuccino cost more than a gallon of gas.

Fucked up economy for real.

Then you glance at the cashier’s hands… he’s already typing it in.

Okay. Take it back.

That’s the real sign of late-stage capitalism: rainbow muffin doesn’t even require your consent to be rung up… but hey, at least you can afford it.

You’ve never been happier to be $1.70 poorer in your entire adult life.

You pull out your card.

He notices.

He pulls his, too.

Two cards. One slit. (Now this reminds you of your browser history from last night-)

“No, please, I got it,” he says - again.

Oh no, a damsel mustn’t pay for herself. (You hate him. You want to climb him like a tree.)

Watch her do it anyway. With confidence and $1.78 in her account.

You both arrive at the card reader at the exact same time.

Hands bump. Wrists brush. The tension is… stupid.

It’s awkward. It’s ridiculous. It’s… romantic?

Maybe.

Or maybe you’re just touch-starved.

Still-

You win.

Swipe clean. Transaction approved.

Victory, feminism, and low blood sugar all in one swipe.

“Enjoy the bubbles,” you say, smiling as you hand him the pastry and the overpriced soapy water.

He takes it, eyes flicking between you and the muffin, and for a second he gives you that look.

That slightly tired, slightly amused look men give right before they tell you you’ve done something reckless. Or charming. Or both.

He looks like he’s about to scold you. Fatherly. Disgustingly (hot).

He doesn’t.

“Sure,” he says, deadpan. “I’ll cherish them.” (Who even uses ‘cherish’ in the 21st century?!) And then, at the very end of it, a smile. Small. Real.

He opens his mouth again, “I-”

A breath.

“I have to go.”

One last smile. Quick. Tight.

And he’s already turning. Already halfway to the exit.

You stare.

Helpless.

Unwell.

For a second, you hope this modern-day Cinderella in a suit might drop one of his wildly expensive Italian leather dress shoes so you’ll have something to hunt him down with across D.C.

Track him by scent and shoe size.

But no. The shoe stays on.

He probably triple-knots them like the terrifying overachiever he is.

He does stop, though - just for a second - to check the time on his very expensive Rolex.

Hot. Unforgivably hot.

This brief, chaotic muffin-flavored detour has probably set him back exactly one minute and twenty-one seconds, and you know he’s internally recalculating his entire schedule down to the microsecond.

And yes, the panic is subtle. But it’s there.

In the clench of his jaw. The twitch of his temple. That microscopic furrow in his brow that says: How dare I entertain myself with flirtatious nonsense when I have 7,000 emails to check by 5 P.M.

Incredible. You’ve rattled a man with a watch that costs more than your rent. You’ve won.

You are going to be insufferable about this when your friend finishes her class.

Forget “stepped on your toe” guy. That man is dead to the narrative.

This dad is going to be the main character of every single conversation you have for the next four months.

You will tell her everything. Every glance. Every gesture. The muffin. The bubble blower. The nonexistent ass. From the moment you first locked eyes with this burgundy-swim-cap man named-

“…Aaron,” the cashier mutters.

You blink. “What?”

“That’s his name,” he says flatly. “Aaron. He comes here a lot.”

The cashier really doesn’t get paid enough for this.

Aaron.

Wow.

Two syllables.

“FBI,” he even adds casually, like it’s no big deal, as he hands a slice of pizza tucked inside a cheeseburger to a damp-haired five-year-old.

So.

Aaron owns a pair of handcuffs.

Government-issued. Handcuffs.

That tracks.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @hayleym1234 ; @justyourusualash ; @khxna ; @kyrathekiller ; @littlemisskavities ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @oxforce ; @percysley ; @person-005 ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @softestqueeen ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

[luckyblackcatxiii]

A snippet of a scene of something that happened months ago, but the consequences are beginning to show their face recently in game that I felt compelled to depict it~

The most summarized explanation I can give for now: In a discussion about their letter correspondence--in which Saverio and Strahd have been writing to each other for a few back-and-forths now--Saverio suggested Strahd could contact him through his thoughts 'like how Magni talks to people' thinking specifically about Sending spells. Strahd clarified that Saverio was giving him permission to this which, not thinking much of his reply, he agreed to and was given a rather smug smile in response. Thanks to a Nat 20 insight check on that, these pictures were the horrific answer he came to realize.

I'm sure it'll fine. The only follow up to this was Strahd being a mild and very brief irritation for one night but it wasn't anything to write back home about.

It's fine.

Bonus doodle in relation to this (made for Cat Day)

[felassan]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "To celebrate DA day, I've made a bluesky account that I'll keep active for a few days to talk about my work on Inqusition or Veilguard! After a few days I'll lock the account, because I'm not a social media person. Happy to talk until then though. I want to say straight off: the reception to Emmrich, Manfred, the Mourn Watch, and the Grand Necropolis has been heartwarming for all of us who worked on those people and places. Thank you all very much!" [source, two]

Rest of post under cut due to length and spoilers. [Post Two, Post Three]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "In the meantime, I do want to talk about a couple of things I saw floating around regarding Emmrich: 1. Emmrich being 52 or 50. I think people got 50 from data mining a character file, but we can't do a ranges in those files. As in, I couldn't input 50-60, it had to be a whole number. I put down 50 as an early ballpark, then went more accurate in later audition scripts. 2. Fifty-two is a old number I threw into an early document before his art or character was totally final. (And which caused another developer a headache because they thought it was accurate, I never updated it. Sorry about that.) 3. "Wait, how old is Emmrich then?" Once I saw his final character art, I felt more mid to late 50s. MAYBE early 60s. But unless we specifically state a character's age in the game, it's all malleable. I honestly would just adjust it to your impressions unless stated otherwise. 4. I've also seen comments on how weird it is for Emmrich to act like there's an age-gap in the romance if your Rook is around his age. And you're right. 5. The reason is because Rook WAS younger when those scenes were written and worked on. I felt it'd be odd if I never addressed the May-December aspect, especially as it hooks into some of Emmrich's worries. 6. By the time that shifted, it was really too late to change without catastrophic repercussions to the excellent cinematics and music and other things that depend on line delivery and timing. 7. To be clear: you can feel how you want about the age gap coming up at all! But that's how the discrepancy came about. 8. "Is there a way to reconcile Emmrich acting like my Rook is way younger than him if they're not?" Great question! I have several suggestions: -Accept it's an error. (True, but unexciting) -Emmrich considers a gap of 3-5 years scandalous. (Funny, albeit a bit cartoonish.) -The Mourn Watch has perfected swapping out organs, and Emmrich is nervously hiding that he's way older than he looks out of vanity. (Untrue, but funny.)" [source thread]

User in reply to point 6. above: "I'm personally glad it was too late to change because their argument about it is genuinely my favorite scene in the entire game! 😭💕 It's such an important moment to me" / Sylvia: "Thanks! That one was one where I was all sweatily trying to balance things out, with tone, with pacing, etc. Really glad it came together for you. (Cine and the actors did heroic things there to get it feeling just so!)" [source]

More snippets:

Emmrich's favorite ice cream flavor? Rum raisin [source]

Lots of people on the dev team shared the vision of having a bunch of gothic weirdness in that pocket of Thedas [source] (Necropolis/Nevarra)

Sylvia "especially liked writing the Mourn Watch origin, it was fun to write a fellow nerd for Emmrich to chat with" [source]

Sylvia poured some personal worries and fears into writing Emmrich [source]

On Vorgoth and their nature: "I'm a little leery of saying anything, partly because I'm cowardly avoiding publicly defining anything more until/if I ever need to. And partly because I did want them to be a fresh unknown. Sorry!" [source] "I'm glad you like Vorgoth, but I'm afraid I don't have much for you that isn't in the game. I deliberately wrote them so as to leave room, if we ever revisited them, or for Vorgoth to remain mysterious, if we did not. I'm sorry if that's not a very satisfying answer!" [source] "I will say, it was fun to throw in a few lines about Vorgoth's art collection. Their passion for it is sincere and deep. (I wanted all the Watchers to have a little non-death related hobby or interest, because they can be so singularly focused.)" [source]

Dwarven Mourn Watcher is a rare origin combo for Rook so Sylvia wanted to call it out [source]

On the outcomes of Emmrich's quest: "I tried really hard to make the options equally viable, and more up to the player's interpretation or preferences of what it would mean for Emmrich in their view. It's been interesting seeing reactions to it, which hinge sometimes on various single lines pushing people one way or another!" [source]

"The Grand Necropolis is always eager and ready for a new member of the Mourn Watch to grace its ranks." [source]

User: "I loved Emmrich's view on death and what his personal quest ultimately went on to say about the nature of death itself, and how the beauty of mortality lies in its impermanence and unpredictability." / Sylvia: "I really wanted to dig into those themes, and everyone in cine and art and level design and editing and the whole team honed in exactly on the vibe. The floral stuff especially, I was so thrilled when I played through the Memorial Gardens' with the art and lighting in." [source]

User: "I experience thanatophobia and that first conversation w/ Emmrich was so affirming and helped me describe my own anxiety to others" / Sylvia: "Thanks, the thanatophobia was, as you may've guessed, a personal experience for me too. I'm glad it was something that helped a little." [source] "I suspect that phobia is way more common than people think, and part of the reason Emmrich talks about it was to express that sentiment out loud. I find it helps sometimes just to acknowledge it." [source]

What languages does Emmrich speak other than Trade? "I think he'd be familiar with Tevene, since there's surely many, many old texts about magic written in that language. Kind of like a doctor that knows latin through their work. I also named that MW alphabet "tomb-script", though I'm not sure if it has a spoken component or not since it never came up in-game. If it does, he'd be able to speak that for sure." [source, two]

User: "Playing as a Mourn Watch Rook has been an absolute delight!!!" / Sylvia: "Thank you so much, I really liked writing those branches of the dialogue. Since Emmrich's so focused on necromancy, it was fun having a Rook who could be both casual and knowledgeable about it." [source]

User: "In your opinion, what outcome do you prefer for a romanced Emmrich (lich/non lich)?" / Sylvia: "Interesting question! To be honest, I'm afraid to answer it properly in case anyone takes my answer to be a canonical one. I really wanted either path to feel equally interesting/correct for whatever you decide fits your Rook's relationship with Emmrich. (We're also in the strange waters of meta-reasoning. I GAVE Emmrich his fear of death-Sorry Emmrich!-which makes me feel a little culpable for that, even though he's entirely fictional. And that might prey on my mind when trying to decide. A very odd experience!)" [source, two]

What music genres would Emmrich be into? "Classical music is very much playing to type for Emmrich, but I feel it's also correct. He'd enjoy a nice concerto or an organ recital. Or, if he's feeling daring, a bold new Orlesian opera! But I don't think his tastes are too outré in that area. That said, I saw someone post something like "Leave Emmrich alone, let him attend the Depeche Mode concert" while listening to Depeche Mode's "Violator", for the first time, which made me laugh. (Great album. If he could get over the shock of synths, Emmrich might enjoy "Waiting for the Night".)" [source, two]

When writing Emmrich the devs wanted to try and hit the gothic romance vibe [source]

Does Emmrich mix his own fragrance/cologne? Does he ever vary it by the season? "I think Emmrich goes to some of the many perfumers that have set up shop in Nevarra City around the Necropolis, just because he trusts their judgement and expertise. I hadn't considered him varying it by season, but that's very fun! I certainly think he has more than one bottle of scent." [source]

User: "How does Lich Emmrich have sex?" / Sylvia: "I don't mind the question! But my answer's a bit boring: I generally stay at arm's length on the more explicit romance stuff, just because if it's not stated or shown in-game, I don't want to bring in a canonical answer that might affect what people imagined. My general preference for romantic scenes that get physical is to leave blank space somewhere, so players can imagine what happens next. It's not the ONLY way to do it, I think there's legitimate artistic reasons to go more explicit. But that's how I approached Emmrich (and before him Josephine.)" [source, two]

User: "The scene with the fade glow where he touches your hand haunts me in the best way" / Sylvia: "Aw thank you. Our animators and audio people made that scene way better than I could've hoped! They took such care with everything there. I want to say that little eye-peep from Rook was added in by one of them, which was the perfect touch." [source]

User on Emmrich: "i’m curious whether you think he’d prefer dogs or cats (or both, or neither)" / Sylvia: "I think he'd consider cats and dogs a little too noisy and messy for his tastes. Not like a nice, quiet plant or skeleton! (Weirdly, I actually had a scrap of banter going over this exact subject at one point. It got tightened down to the exchange with Harding about the pig he used to hug when he was a kid.)" [source, two]

Sylvia was trying to tease Nevarra with the Tevinter Nights story Down Among the Dead Men [source]. "It was really fun to tease the Necropolis, so to speak, in TN, and I'm grateful we got to actually let players through its gates at last." [source]

User: "if Rook chooses to save Manfred and keep Emmrich mortal, what would Emmrich wish to become of his body once he did pass on?" / Sylvia: "Good question. I think he'd want to remain active and useful in death. A guide for other Mourn Watchers, or posted as a mystic guide somewhere dangerous, or perhaps an oracle in the library." [source]

User: "when and how was it decided that Emmrich would be romanceable? I remember reading that he would not be a romance option." / Sylvia: "I'm not sure where that came from, because I pitched him and then shortly after that we decided the entire cast was romanceable. That was fairly early on in the development of Veilguard, as I recall it. (Could've been a crossed wire?)" [source]

Trick Weekes: "Sylvia wrote the fantastic Emmrich "the Vol-carnage" Volkarin and everything that happens in Nevarra while dealing with a lead writer whose attitudes about corpses and undead are... not dissimilar from Taash's." [source] / Sylvia: "I still remember when you gave the very accurate feedback "I think we need to give players whose Rooks aren't into corpses some roleplaying choices to express this" and I was all "Ohhh yeaaaaaah." (Thank u Trick, you were right)" [source] / Trick: "Specifically, being able to express this without locking themselves out of the content! (For non-Sylvia folks) Given my issues with corpses, Emmrich as a whole was SUPER Not For Me, so I gave one caveat and then said, "For the rest of my critique, I will be impersonating his target audience." [source]

Sylvia on the secret origins of Manfred: "After I pitched Emmrich, I started jotting down notes and thoughts on his plots, his quirks, all that kind of stuff. It was very early on Veilguard, anything was still possible. We were chatting in the writer's room about it one day, and I think we'd just seen some early concept art for Emmrich. And our lead writer Trick Weekes joked that Emmrich looked like a man who'd have a skeleton named Manfred. And I laughed and went "Yeah he does!" And then I thought about it. It's wild in retrospect, but that one comment spurred a train of thought that led to the core of Emmrich's arc. He may've ended up a very different character without it! tl;dr: I stole it from Trick." [source, two, three, four]

"I got to play with a pretty free palette when defining the way Emmrich and the necromancers view death and spirits. But I tried to keep it within the confines of existing lore. That's one reason why that scene where Emmrich talks about Manfred to Harding goes into "the eternal question" of whether a soul actually returns with the dead or not. Nevarra has distinct beliefs, but I thought it'd be interesting if its people argue over their interpretations of those beliefs." [source, two]

"the other writers also suggested a bit later on that the big choice dig more into Emmrich's philosophies. Initially, it was more personally focused on his fears, which made it 'relatable' but pettier. Without that correction, I think it would've been weaker, I totally needed the team push." [source]

"I have a few guides to graveyard symbology, and it's so packed with references and meaning." [source]

User: "Did any of your own fears & experiences, make it into the writing of Emmrich? If yes, is it information you’re comfortable sharing with us? If it’s too personal to give any details, that’s fine as well. Also, across the other games, who do you think Emmrich will get along with best?" / Sylvia: "some of his fears are absolutely personal. The reflexive-compulsive panic over death is something I'm very familiar with, and I wanted to explore that through him. Because I suspected it was not uncommon, and worth examining. The question of who he'd get along with from the other games is surprisingly tough! Because without asking the other writers about their characters, I wouldn't know for sure. So I can only really speak to Josephine with surety. That said: -I think Josephine would be polite, and grow to like him, but would never entirely be over the ostentatious necromancy. -I think Emmrich meeting Sera would be the funniest match." [source, two, three]

"Peter Cushing was also one of my go-tos as an example of what I wanted Emmrich to be." [source]

"(Huge shout out to all the animators and level designers making Manfred run, quite literally. Like 95% of his personality lives in his movement, I think they nailed it.)" [source]

On Emmrich: "I tried to put a lot of passion and sincerity in his love for the dead, and I admit the Necropolis was THE big place I wanted to see in Thedas myself ever since reading about it in a codex." [source]

User: "Thank you for letting him have that cemetery dream date!" / Sylvia: "Having the date in the cemetery was one of the first things I wanted when thinking about the romance." [source]

"Josephine was the first time I was entrusted with a new character and a new romance at once, and that'll always be special to me." [source]

User: "How much input did you have in Emmrich's appearance in the podcast?" / Sylvia: "In the podcast, none myself. I believe it was handled by a third party but reviewed by a few people at BW, I don't know too much past that. (We did provide a descriptor and character rules. Stuff like "Emmrich never swears" and "always says amongst" and broader, more thematically useful things.)" [source]

User on Emmrich: "Are you planning any other external-media stories for him?" / Sylvia: "Thanks very much, The Flame Eternal has a special place in my heart for being the first time Emmrich got to be center stage in a story. (And very flattering to hear about the cross stitch. That's so cool!) I can't speak to any external-media plans, I'm afraid. That's not an implied hint about anything existing or not, it's just literally outside what I'm allowed to chat about. It'd be fun to do something like that again though!" [source, two]

"I must give full credit to Nick Borraine, Emmrich's voice actor. He got the compassion and tenderness the character needed right away." [source]

"And glad him being closer to your age resonated, I really wanted someone older out on an adventure. No reason that has to stop at any age IMO." [source]

User: "do the mourn watcher/nevarra in general raise their pets after they die to keep them around? like a dog skeleton with a whisp in it?" / Sylvia: "To be honest I hadn't thought out this one, but it's a very good question. I'm not sure how common that would be, or even if it's permitted to have pets running around the family crypt. (I definitely thing people would WANT to do it.) You know, I think I'm going to have to leave this one in the vague quantum foam of the future. I think I'd want to not only double check existing lore, but answer that in-game (or in a book or etc.) if we ever need to. (Hope that's not too much of a cop out. Sometimes I like to leave questions I'm not sure about alone, because until it's in an official game or story, it doesn't quite count.)" [source, two, three]

User: "as someone who shares emmrich's anxiety about mortality, getting to spend time with him, and in the grand necropolis and with the mourn watch, was genuinely soothing" / Sylvia: "Thank you, I'm glad he was a comfort. It's a familiar fear for me too, and I'd hoped he would connect that way with people very much." [source]

On the giant ribcage 'ceiling' in the Necropolis: "sadly, even I don't know all the mysteries of the Necropolis. (Which is to say it's a very cool bit of art but has no stated origin yet. Could be a large dragon, a giant...or something weirder!)" [source]

On TN story Luck in the Gardens: "It was nice change up, writing in first person and with someone so rascally. I've got an enduring affection for the Lords after writing Hollix, the scamp." [source]

User: "I just love his genuine enthusiasm for everything he does. If the other party members had fan clubs Emmrich would be the president of each and I love that for him" / Sylvia: "Thank you! I really wanted him to embody a kind of expansiveness and generosity of spirit, to stand in contrast to the eeriness of his abilities." [source]

User: "What was your inspiration for Josie?" / Sylvia: "My girl! When I came on to Inquisition, there'd already been work done on setting up the spine of the main plot, and figuring out the overall cast. But one of the advisors was a little murkier. It just said "Diplomat" on the white board. We knew we wanted someone in that position, but not who. So in a game where you were out exploring, killing demons, etc., but also had a big organization to run? I immediately wanted to make a Diplomat firmly there for you. Somebody you could hand the keys to the entire Inquisition to while you were out, and know it'd be in good hands. I also thought it'd be fun to have someone from Antiva, since that area wasn't covered yet by anyone in the cast. And I needed her to be polished, smooth, but heartfelt, because of that aforementioned trust. And that was the core of Josephine! Her voice actor, Allegra, brought her to life with such lovely charm, and hearing those early sessions also helped me further hone her tone." [source, two, three, four]

"Our music supervisor Ron Dazo hit it out of the park with Emmrich's music IMO. And so glad you liked Hezenkoss! Just very fun to write as a character." [source]

User: "Did any specific watcher raise MW Rook?" / Sylvia: "Good question! I kind of left that one alone because I wasn't sure if I wanted to let Rook define that themselves, or leave it open, and also I'd have wanted a full conversation on it. In the end that was a little out of scope so I left it unsaid. Which is to say that it COULD be Vorgoth who helped raise your Rook. And that stands until/unless we give a definitive answer (or let you choose from a range of answers) one day." [source, two]

"It was such a pleasure for all of us to finally get to explore the Necropolis, I am very glad we got to throw open the gates." [source]

User: "I was wondering if there were any Mourn Watch details you wished you had more time to explore? I was so struck by some of the ethical implications in your stories" / Sylvia: "Geeze, now that's a question. I mention it with Emmrich, but there's some resentment over the power the Watchers hold as THE mortalitasi of the Grand Necropolis, between them and the other orders. There's something to that situation I liked. There's also questions of how they select people for the order. What their standards are, how closely they work with benign spirits. And how they cultivate those relationships. How deep does that go? I also mentioned in a codex "the lives and bodies of those who tamper with the undead of the Necropolis are forfeit unto the Mourn Watch." which is pretty chilling. What's that punishment like, exactly? And in general, writing about anything weird or unexplained in the Necropolis brought me much enjoyment, and it would be fun to dig around how the Mourn Watch deals with (or what they want out of) all these mysteries and entities." [source, two, three, four]

"Geeking out with Emmrich about spooky stuff was a delight to write." [source]

"I liked writing someone older this time, it was something different for me and rewarding in some unexpectedly different ways. (And thanks especially for the nice words on DAtDM - I was very excited to introduce people to the Mourn Watch there!)" [source]

"Ah, tomb-script. I named it but it was our concept artists who went developed it with the hexagon shape-language of the Mourn Watch, which I loved. Conceptually: I think it's used purely an occult or sacred language. Something for the graves, or books on magic, but not everyday things." [source]

"Some trans people kindly offered their help with some feedback on some of the romance lines and others, which absolutely made them much better." [source]

"Trick Weekes actually wrote a ton of the banter where Emmrich inquires into qunari artifacts and customs, and Taash talks about what it was like to grow up under a scholar. I really dig the dynamic they unearthed between the two there." [source]

User: "Do you remember what was written in the script to describe ✨this✨ moment? [link]" // Sylvia: "Lol. I miiiiiight? Let me look at my notes. Ah hah, I do! My note says that Emmrich "takes a second, surprised." And then he's touched afterwards." [source, two]

Sylvia: ""i hope it's not too late, but were there any designs in mind for what Nevarra City looks like?" Not too late! We've got a few sketches in the World of Thedas books, but that's it. If the team ever went back to Nevarra City proper, I'd imagine the art team would want to do a deeper dive." [source]

Sylvia: "(Glad you liked Myrna in particular. My first Mourn Watcher everyone got to know!)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'm glad to hear getting to know Emmrich has been of some comfort." [source]

[bunnis-monsters]

saw your bull and cow hybrid fic and found out you were doing an event!! would you be willing to tell us more about this au, no specific request i just want to know more about this, also congratulations on 5k!!!

Cow/Bull Hybrid Lore

I’m planning on making an entire post about the cow/bull hybrids but I’ll give y’all some snippets for now.

Cow and bull hybrids were created using the newest technology, crossing humans with cows and bulls. This was done to create beings that could produce milk without needing to be impregnated.

Though there are female cows and bulls, the males are the ones used for milk production the most since they can produce “milk” all year long.

Make bull/cow hybrid semen acts as a milk alternative, and is lactose free! It’s very creamy and sweet, and is very popular with women specifically.

A female farmhand is required to tend to the males, since they dislike male human hormones and charge at any males getting too close to their territory. There are male cow/bull hybrids that will form mating bonds with each other, but they aren’t likely to mate with a human male.

Each male cow/bull hybrid can produce 1-4 gallons of cum milk a day, depending on their build and species. Bulls are more likely to produce on the higher end.

Female cow hybrids are highly sought after by both cow and bull hybrid males. A heifer is seen as a rare treat, and everyone is eager to be the first to put a calf in her belly.

They have a preference for fat, chubby women. The closer you look to a heifer, the more they’re attracted. Once they’ve chosen a mate you’re screwed. You’re their breeding cow now.

Once a cow/bull hybrid gets you pregnant, he becomes very clingy and extra territorial, guarding the area you’re nesting in with his life. The bulls are eager to impale anyone that gets near, while the cows will stomp on any poor soul that tries to bother you.

You’ll be milked as if you’re an actual cow, and your baby is expected to start walking within a few days. Though, babies between humans and hybrids are rarely as strong as their hybrid parents, and are closer to their human parents in terms of their growth.

I’ll post more about them later~

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljr @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68

[arminsumi]

omg thank u 💗 i am also sobbing let's sob together lol👍

「 🔴 RECORDING 」

found footage of satoru's student years... recorded on the camcorder that he carried around everywhere.

warnings : heavy angst, fluff, implied death, not proofread

[ the first footage is one minute long. there's two blue eyes widening comedically on the screen. the resolution is low and the audio is tinny. ]

"Ooo it works... well hellooooooo there... i'm... GOJO!! SATORU!! and this is... suguuuuruu getooooo... oh look at that walk, you're such a model."

[ the camera is on suguru, who's walking with bad posture. he doesn't like the camera. ]

[ he has his old hairstyle; this was recorded before his hair was long enough to be in the bun style. he hides his face from the camera. ]

"... aw, he's a model that doesn't like cameras. anyways... this is the beautiful... STUNNING... hot... talented... playing-hard-to-get... (haha kidding)... y/n~"

[ the camera pans to you. you can hear the flirty tone in satoru's voice. ]

"... we are currently walking through the gates of hell..."

[ the camera pans to the school. the resolution clears for a second to show a blue sky with slowly drifting clouds. ]

"okay. we have arrived in hell; look there's satan himself—"

[ the camera pans to yaga. ]

[ the footage ends with yaga confiscating satoru's camera and scolding him. ]

[ a video starts off shaky. the camera is dropped on the train floor and suguru sighs. ]

"satoru...... did you just break it after having it for one day?"

[ satoru picks it up and gives a toothy smile to the screen. ]

"nah. she's all good. not even a scratch. ooh... suguru we look so hot. and look how hot y/n is... she's so scandalous — sittin' next to me on the train. this proximity's got me sweatin', baby... kidding kidding... don't gimme that look!"

[ suguru gives the middle finger to the camera and satoru's iconic laugh sounds beautiful even through the crap audio quality. ]

[ there's a 3 minute video that's half-corrupted of a party happening in your apartment... of just you, satoru, suguru and shoko. lykke li's "i follow rivers" is playing loudly, satoru is screaming the lyrics in broken english and suguru is recording you and him dancing like maniacs. shoko is offering her cigarette to the camera and blowing smoke into the lens. ]

[ there's a 25 second clip of satoru aggressively kissing you until you laugh. ]

[ there is a photo of satoru crouching to pet a cat. he's holding an umbrella. ]

[ there is corrupted footage of laughter and a flicker of the video shows a tiny pot on a stove with ramen cooking in it. ]

[ there's a photo of you, satoru, suguru and shoko. you and satoru are looking at each other like lovebirds. suguru is giving the finger to the camera. shoko is laughing with her eyes closed. ]

[ a long video of satoru waking up in a hotel bed. he looks like he just woke up. he blinks at the camera, bleary-eyed and cute with puffy lips and messy hair. ]

"goodmornin'."

[ his morning rasp is strong. ]

"i'm awake... but miss sleepy head and mister sleepy head are not, as you can see..."

[ he zooms in on your face. you're laid at his right, and suguru is laid at his left. ]

"here's the sleeping angel... and here's the sleeping dragon... anyways... WAKEY WAKEYYYYYYYYY!!! IT'S A BRIGHT NEW DAY!!!"

[ suguru's wakeful groan sounds groggy and disturbed by satoru's loud, piercing wake-up call. you scrunch your face as you wake up, seemingly out of a dream. ]

"satoru... what the hell is the matter with you..."

[ it's an ultra close-up shot of your nose as you mumble this. ]

"i was lonely being awake by myself, gosh. you're so mean!"

[ he experiences a voice crack. suguru gives a sleepy, murderous look at his best friend. ]

"satoru... i swear i'm gonna throw that camera into traffic one day."

[ suguru's mumbling into his pillow too softly to be taken seriously. ]

"wanna say that to the camera?"

[ suguru looks grouchy. ]

"i'll kill you."

"WOW... buddy, this is evidence if you ever do kill me... the police will find this footage... 'n put your FLAT ass in jail. aw... y/n fell back asleep look look... aw she's so fucking precious."

[ suguru and satoru admire you for a bit. there rest of the footage is corrupted. ]

[ footage of a breakfast in the same hotel. sunny side eggs are zoomed-in on. and there's only eggs. ]

"we're too broke to buy bacon, isn't that cool?"

[ satoru gets a nice view up his nose as he tilts the camera to himself. then he turns the camera to you, who's sleepily eating this miserable breakfast. ]

"... so we just have eggs to eat... heyyyy hot babe..."

[ satoru flirts with you and you roll your eyes in response, smiling and chewing on your egg, fork in one hand. ]

"wanna hear a joke?"

"mhm."

"if you ever broke up with me, what would you call me?"

"an idiot?"

"your eggs."

[ you groan and stop eating because his pun was so awful, but you've got a big smile on your face and satoru is laughing heartily. ]

[ the video ends with you and satoru leaning in for a big kiss and a sleepy suguru walking into the room, itching his tummy under his shirt. ]

[ there's a clip of you, satoru, suguru and shoko yelling happy new year and watching fireworks explode into blazing, brilliant colors. suguru winks at the camera as you hold it and you giggle flirtatiously back. there's clearly tension between you two that neither satoru no shoko acknowledge in the moment, because the fireworks distract them. ]

[ there's footage of you, satoru and suguru kissing. it ends with satoru kissing the camera as a joke. ]

[ most of the footage is corrupted after this. in the next video, satoru seems a bit older. ]

[ there's footage of a solo satoru, who's been enlightened and and burdened with being the strongest. he's on a mission alone, keeping the camcorder on as he exorcises a curse. he trots over to the camera. he seems less enthusiastic compared to the other videos. ]

"aaand that's what the strongest looks like while he's at work."

[ satoru looks smug and goofy, but something is off. his features look worn and tired. ]

[ there is already that slightly disingenuous liveliness showing in his demeanor just in this small video; the version of satoru that his students would know as just normal gojo sensei. ]

[ his smile falters as he rambles about y/n and suguru. ]

"i'm gonna give y/n a big kiss when i get home. miss you, angel. haha... why am i talking to a camera all by myself... that's so sad. i'm gonna film myself gettin' that kiss at home, just to prove i'm not some lonely idiot. i have a hot fiancé..."

[ one of the last photos taken on this camera is dated; august 2009. it's of you and satoru sharing a big kiss... neither of you knew it at the time, but it was your last kiss. ]

[ the next piece of footage is from 2018. it's a 28 year old gojo, his features show his maturity and the weathering of all the years he's endured living without you and suguru.]

"i found this camera while cleaning up. if i look 'n sound funny it's 'cuz i've been crying haha......"

"...... i miss you two..... haha... i can't shove the camera in your faces like i used to, now can i?"

[ he awkwardly smiles at the camera but then his face trembles and contorts into an ugly-cry as if he just remembered every single memory of his youth. ]

[ the footage ends with a broken, barely audible "fuck..." falling from the teacher's lips as he starts to cry and drops the camera to the floor. the rest is corrupted footage... just heaving sobs of the man who has no more memories to record with suguru and y/n. ]

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #54 - Too Jealous]

“When you are way too jealous because of another woman.”

Genre: married life!AU, slight Angst, Smut

Warnings: jealousy, husband stealing women trying to get with Kook, while he is the most loyal puppy husband ever, insecurities, a fight because of her jealousy, but they make up <3, please he is so cute i couldn't be mad at him, subbiest!Jungkook, Domme!Reader, he wears bondage gear, and used eyeliner to write her name on his body, chastity cage, marking through hickeys & biting, subby boy tears, omfg he is such a cutie crybaby <3, nipple play & sucking, wearing of a buttplug, have i mentioned that he cries a lot? <3, very passionate sex in cowgirl position, where he is tied to the bed and whines and cries and is subbyyyy, he breaks the bed but stays put cause he is a good boy, choking, dirty talk, possessive talk, creampie, use of a vibrator, one quick face sitting for her please, he loves eating her out <3, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), forced orgasm through overstimulation with the vibrator, where she makes him cum so hard that he squirts <3, gentle aftercare, they're deeply in love and this is actually softer than the warnings may make it seem, bruh i need to recover from this

Wordcount: 7.8k

a/n: listen. it would be unrealistic to create ogc!koo and not have women want him left and right. of course our queen OC feels threatened sometimes (she doesn't have to, he is her loyal puppy fr) and i NEEDED to write this like i fucking NEEDED this on my blog i just *sigh* i love subby crybaby!koo so much :( ALSO! i decided to include anonie's dream from some time ago heheh 🧡

Jungkook is without a doubt the most attractive, most handsome, sexiest and hottest man ever. This is not an exaggeration but the truth. He is drop-dead, insanely gorgeous. He has the perfect body and knows what clothes to wear to really show it off. His tattoos are so well done and perfectly fit his body. His face is quite frankly to die for, his hair is always perfect and to make it even worse, he always smells so good. Because he is Jungkook, it also means that the perfection doesn’t stop at his looks. He is perfect inside as well. His heart is kind and gentle, he cares, he is funny, he is witty and he actually respects women. He is also way too talented and overall a good person. And he never ever brags about being basically perfect (which he is) because he is humble above all.

In short, Jeon Jungkook is the most attractive, perfect man ever. And because he is, it means that you, as his wife, have way too much competition. Not that Jungkook actually sees any of this competition because his love-drunk puppy eyes have solely been fixed on you for years and they plan on staying this way. Yes, he is bloody loyal too. What a perfect fucking man he is. He is loyal and therefore blind to the competition, but you are aware of the competition. You can distinguish between a naturally friendly woman and a woman who is only that way because she wants to get with him. And Jungkook gets a lot of these women as his customers. You can’t blame them for swooning over him – whenever he tattoos you, you can’t stop staring either – but there are the kinds of women who still want to try to seduce him even after finding out that he is married. And because Jungkook doesn’t actually care for their attention, he is also not really aware that they keep coming back for more tattoos just so they could be touched by him or stare at him. Most of these women finally give up when they actually see you, but there is this one specific woman who seems hellbent on stealing Jungkook from you and she is currently at his studio again.

“___?” 

You turn your head to the left at the sound of your employee’s voice.

“Yes, Katy?” 

“Are you alright? You’ve been staring at Jungkook’s studio for fifteen minutes now.”

“I have?”

Katy nods her head, “did you guys have a fight?”

“No, but she is back.”

“Ooooh”, Katy realises, “Ariana?”

“Yeah…her”, you grumble, tensing your jaw.

“Again? Didn’t he literally talk about your wedding last time?”

“He did.”

“And didn’t he say that she had a boyfriend too?”

“He did.” You squint your eyes. “Stupid bitch, I bet she is currently looking at his tits and arms. God.” You stomp your foot like a stubborn child. “Why does he have to have such massive tits and arms?” you whine to which Katy laughs.

“You’re literally so jealous, it’s insane.”

“Yeah I am. He is so gorgeous and some women just don’t get that he is mine.” 

Katy pats your shoulder in soothing. 

“There, there. I bet he is not even giving her a first thought or a second or a third.”

“I hope he isn’t. Otherwise, divorce.”

Katy belts a laugh.

“You’re being so dramatic. Jungkook would already start crying if he so much as thought about the hypothetical of cheating on you.”

“I guess.” You send the studio one last glare then sadly have to leave your brooding position to tend to some customer with Katy. 

A little over an hour passes like this, then the restaurant calms down again and you glare. 

Katy, who notices, pats your shoulder again.

“Still not over it?”

“She hasn’t left yet.”

“Maybe it’s a bigger tattoo?”

“She never gets big tattoos because it means that she can come back as often as possible.”

“Wow okay, very scheming indeed.”

“Yes, very. I bet she is one of those women who get off on stealing taken men. You know what? I’m going over there.”

“For what reason?”

“I don’t know. Bringing coffee”, you say and grab one of the coffee jugs and two mugs. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Good luck, queen”, Katy calls after you, smiling fondly. It’s kind of cute how jealous you can be when there is truly nothing to worry about.

You see them from outside. They are in the front of the shop, hugging. Jungkook doesn’t touch her, keeping at least five inches of distance between his arms and her body while she is slung around him with her face in his neck as if she wanted to literally crawl into him. Judging by his widened eyes, he was not expecting this hug.

It you didn’t carry a jug full of hot coffee, you would have literally kicked the door in.

But instead you open it with a happy “yuhu” on your lips, following it up with a “I bring coffee, my darling.” 

“Oh, sweetie”, Jungkook says, stepping back to escape the hug.

The wannabe home wrecker lets go of Your husband and takes a step back, studying you from head to toe judgingly. You place the coffee pot on the counter and hug Jungkook. He hugs you back instantly, rubbing the small of your back and kissing the side of your neck gently.

“Hey.”

“Hey there, my hubby”, you say and place multiple kisses on his neck and jawline. Then you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his face down into a deep, passionate kiss. The kind of kiss which lasts way too long and is way too intimate. You end the entire show with a squeeze of his butt and a goofy grin.

“I missed you today, my hubby bubby sweetie. I kept thinking about the amazing head you gave me this morning and how you kept telling me that you’ll always be mine.”

Jungkook is gawking at you with his mouth wide open. What you said wasn’t a lie because he actually did do that, but you are normally not exposing stuff like this to the public. Or kissing him like this as a matter of fact.

You cuddle into him, hugging his arm and shifting your eyes to the glaring woman in front of you.

“Oh sorry. I didn’t even see you there. Who are you?” You look at Jungkook. “Shoot, did I just expose us to one of your customers, darling? I’m sorry.”

“It’s uh…” Jungkook’s cheeks are bright red. “Forgive me Miss Grand, this is my wife- eek.” He squeaks and tenses up when you grab his butt unapologetically. “Sorry uhm, thanks for uhm coming for the tattoo today. Uhm, don’t forget to do proper aftercare on it and to use the cream I recommended you.”

The home wrecker is flabbergasted for a moment, but then catches herself quickly. She actually tries to shoot her shot in front of you. She steps closer with the plan of hugging him again. 

You are in front of him instantly, staring her down like a lioness one second away from ripping apart her prey.

“You think I’m being funny?” You hiss. “I’ve been friendly with you up until now. Understood?”

Jungkook stays quiet for his own sake, but holds your hand and gawks at you with widened eyes. This is the first time he sees you like this. 

The home wrecker finally gets the message and scrunches her nose.

“I’ll see you soon again, Jungkookie”, she coos and leaves with a flick of her hair. 

The door slams closed. You stay glaring for a few more seconds then turn around. Jungkook blinks his eyes at you in confusion.

“You can’t stop thinking about the head I gave you this morning? Really?” he asks, cocking his brow up in question.

“Whatever. I was trying to say the most possessive thing ever”, you grumble, making your way to the coffee pot.

“Possessive?” Jungkook follows you with his eyes. He suddenly gasps. “Wait! Are you jealous?”

“What? No? I was trying to send a message.”

“Send a message about what?”

“That you’re married.”

“I think she knows. I talk about you constantly.”

You can’t help but smile. He is actually so sweet.

“I don’t think she cared. Now she actually knows that I exist and that I’ll fight. She’ll think twice about hitting on you again.”

“Aw baby, you are jealous.”

“Yes I am. You don’t get it. You’re so perfect and handsome and you sometimes don’t see how other women look at you, but I do. I see all of it”, you hiss at him, sending him such a deathly glare that Jungkook is actually taken aback for a moment.

“No baby, don’t even worry about them. I don’t care about how they look at me, I just wanna look at you”, he says, touching your hips. He flutters his lashes at you, smiling extremely cutely. 

“Then refuse service to Miss Grand.”

“What?”

“You heard me. She is trying to steal you from me.”

Jungkook scoffs, “let her try, I don’t care about her.”

“No, you don’t get it, I-”

A customer interrupts you and him. 

“Oh? Sorry for the disturbance, I didn’t know that you had another customer”, he says, looking sorry.

Jungkook studies your face with guilty eyes for one more second then sadly has to look away. He forces a customer service smile to his face.

“Don’t worry Duke, you’re on time. That’s my wonderful wife ___, she is running the restaurant over there and brought us coffee for our session”, he says, placing his arms over your shoulder to kiss your temple. But you only let him do so halfway then shake yourself free.

“Sorry, works calling again. Hungry people don’t like to wait”, you say. “Good luck with the tattoo.”

You leave the studio and with it a conversation which was definitely not over yet. Jungkook looks after you with sad, guilty eyes until you disappear in the restaurant.

Jungkook leaves the studio at seven like he always does. One more hour and he will drive home with you. He crosses the street and enters the restaurant like he always does. He promised you to stay with you during closing hour to keep you safe from creeps who don’t want to leave. And Jungkook always keeps his promises to you. Especially his marriage promises. He looks for you with a nervously racing heart, but can only find Katy and Joe.

“Are you looking for ___?” Joe asks.

“Yeah, I’m picking her up to drive home together”, he answers him. 

“Damn sorry man, you missed her by about ten minutes.”

“She already went home?”

Joe nods his head.

“Did she say why?”

“Just that she was feeling a little tired tonight.”

Katy joins Joe’s side, staying way too close. You regularly give Jungkook updates about these two. They try to be sneaky about it, but you already figured out that they are secretly dating. Jungkook is always very excited when you give him updates about them during late night cuddles in bed. He feels so sad at the thought right now because he knows that he managed to hurt you today and now there won’t be any updates or cuddles.

“She’s gonna be okay, you know?” Katy says.

Jungkook nods his head, “I hope. I, uhm, Imma go now. Check up on her, you know?”

“Yes, do that.”

“Take care, you two.”

“You too.”

Jungkook drives home with a deep pit of guilt in his stomach. He doesn’t drive straight home, but takes a little detour to a florist to get a huge bouquet of flowers. 

He cradles it like a baby for the rest of the drive home. 

Thankfully, your bike is in the garage and your gear is stored in the closet. Jungkook makes sure that the garage door is closed and then hurries inside. 

Like every night, Bam greets him happily, but Jungkook can only give him attention half-heartedly. He needs to talk to you. 

“Babygirl, I’m home!” 

You don’t answer him. Jungkook discards his keys and swerves past a confused Bam. He checks the kitchen and the living room, both of which are empty. 

“Sweetie, your hubby is back!”

No answer.

He checks the bathroom and the bedroom, then his room. Lastly, he checks your room. 

Bingo.  

You are on your mattress with the television running. 

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere”, he says, hurrying to you. 

He falls to his knees and presents the flowers.

“I’m sorry for today”, he says, bowing his head. 

You glance at him, then the flowers. He got your favourites in your favourite colour and arranged in a heart. You sigh in defeat and turn off the television.

Jungkook lifts his head at the sound, meeting your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m stupid and dumb and a buffoon”, he says apologetically.

You scoff, stifling a smile. He notices it and closes in on you instantly. He tries to kiss your cheek, but you move back.

He sits back on his feet, pouting at you.

“I’m really sorry”, he says.

“I know, I guess you don’t have to be. It’s not like you’re actually entertaining her antics.”

He shakes his head vigorously.

“Never ever. I couldn’t care less about her, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll tell her to look for another tattoo artist.”

“No, it’s okay. I was unreasonable.”

“Well, do you want me to or are you just saying so?”

You hesitate but then shake your head, “it’s okay.” 

Jungkook exhales in defeat. He scoots closer, holding your hand.

“___ baby, I love you and I only want you.”

“I know, thank you for the reassurance and the, uhm, flowers. They’re so cute.”

“Right? I told the florist to make a heart as big as my love for you, but she ran out of flowers before she could match its size.”

He makes you smile. Jungkook hooks onto it, finally leaning in to smooch your cheek. You still pull away however.

“I’m sorry. I need to be alone right now. Is that okay for you?”

“I mean, I’ll definitely feel really guilty the entire time, but I guess if you really need it”, Jungkook says with insecurity in his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll make dinner in the meantime, yeah?”

“I brought stuff from the restaurant. I already ate, sorry.”

“Oh, uhm, okay.” Jungkook hesitates, pulling back in insecurity. “Do you still love me?” he asks with sad puppy eyes 

“I still love you, I promise.”

“I love you too. So much, as big as the flower heart. Even bigger.”

You accept the flowers and give him a smile.

“Thank you, Kook.”

He lingers, waiting – hoping – for you to make a move. You linger, waiting for your feelings to make sense to you. You don’t know if you are angry at him. He wouldn’t deserve it because he did nothing wrong and yet it feels as everything is his fault. If he wasn’t that perfect, that handsome and sweet, other women wouldn’t want to rip him from you all the time. Why does he have to be the way he is? You glare at him. Jungkook looks away instantly, shrinking in obvious helplessness.

“Okay then, I’ll be going now.” He says and looks at you hopefully. Maybe you want to say something now. But you only nod your head.

He stands up with a heavy heart, “you’re gonna miss out on couch snuggles, just saying”, he tries, but doesn’t get far. 

He ends up alone for the rest of the evening while you lock yourself away in your room. 

Jungkook tries to distract himself with a show and by taking Bam on a beach walk, but his mind keeps racing with memories of today. If only he did and or said the right thing. It feels like he fucked up everything. You have never been like this before, you never threatened other women or refused his apologies. It feels like the end and it makes Jungkook feel like shit.

When he comes back from his walk with Bam, your door is still closed. Nothing changed. Is this really it for you and him?

Jungkook runs away to the shed in hopes of finding distraction in a workout. Otherwise he would cry on the couch. He is in the middle of punching the punching bag as if it owed him money when he gets is a text message from you. He throws the gloves away and stops the music. He opens them instantly, eventhough he normally always forgets to check his messages. His heart is pounding in his chest to the point he has to sit down from dizziness.

-          Wifey ♡: Today was too much. She called you Jungkookie and hugged you…

-          Jungkook: I know! 😡 So weird!!! 🤢 it happened really fast, I didn’t wanna hug her and she never called me this way before. It’s so icky 🤢

-          Wifey ♡: She’s a bitch… I notice how women look at you and it makes me feel insecure. You’re so attractive and everything about you is so female gaze coded and so many of your customers are trying to take what’s not theirs.

-          Jungkook: I’m so sorry that you feel this way…What do you need right now to feel better again?

-          Wifey ♡: I don’t know. Maybe more effort from you? I’m so unfair to you, I’m sorry. I know you didn’t do anything wrong, but I still can’t be close to you right now. I’m sorry, I don’t know either why that is…

-          Jungkook: I understand, sweetie. Don’t apologise. I’ll give you your space. My offer for couch snuggles still stands whenever you’re ready.

-          Wifey ♡: I know. Thank you. I love you

-          Jungkook: I love you too, my egg :D

-          Wifey ♡: 🙄

-          Jungkook: 😝😂

You don’t text him anything else anymore, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. You gave him a task. More effort. Jungkook will think of the best, most devoted plan ever and literally sweep you off your feet with it. Jungkook spends the rest of his nightly boxing session distracted with making up plans. Once his idea finally comes to him, he abandons the gym instantly, hurrying to get everything ready before you leave your room.

You are a little scared of facing Jungkook again. You sulked for too long. Now it is already midnight and he needed to go to bed alone. You know that he won’t be able to sleep and you are scared of the tired, sleepy begs he will give you. But you couldn’t help yourself. You felt so insecure today and looking at his perfect face taunted you. 

With a heavy, fearful heart, you open the bedroom. You come to a halt, barely managing to close to door and then your mouth falls open. 

Jungkook is kneeling on the floor by the foot end of the bed. He is wearing a black leather collar on which a thick silver chain is attached. Said chain connects to a pair of matching leather handcuffs. Another set of chains connects these with ankle cuffs. He has his head lowered and is completely naked. The only thing keeping his dick modest is a chastity cage. 

The view is doing wonders. But what truly seals the deal are the markings he put on his own body. With the help of his black eyeliner, he wrote your name on different spots on his body. Under his nipples, all over his neck, right above his caged cock, along his arms, all over his thighs and his stomach.

“What’s that?” you gasp. 

Jungkook lifts his head. He also marked his face for you.

“I’m sorry for being a bad devotee, my queen wife. I didn’t manage to show you the proper amount of devotion. My flesh and soul are yours to break tonight.”

You gulp. Just now, your eyes managed to brush over the array of sextoys he laid out on bed behind him. Impact play toys, cock toys, anal toys, nipple toys. He is giving you full and sole authority over his body right now and how it is supposed to experience pleasure. 

Jungkook bows until his forehead rests against the wooden floor. The chains jingle as he moves.

“Please allow me to show you my devotion, my queen wife. I promise to take whatever you deem fit.” 

The sight, his actions, the indications are all indecently sexy and hot but you still melt in fondness. First the flower heart and now this. You never doubted his love for you, but you doubted your own ability to keep him with you. This right here feels so good to experience. 

You close the distance. 

“Look at me.”

Jungkook lifts his head, gazing up at you like a believer seeing his beloved goddess. You take his chin between your fingers. He sighs, leaning into the touch. 

“Those are some pretty letters you put on there.”

“They are the only letters which matter to me because they spell your name, my queen wife.”

“Oh my god”, you let out. “God Kookie…” You kneel down in front of him and kiss him.

Jungkook moans like a sinner finding resolution, tilting his head to deepen the kiss while his cuffed hands stay on his thighs, balling to fists.

“God fuck, Kook”, you get out, breaking the kiss.

Jungkook sighs, chasing you with half-lidded eyes. But another kiss doesn’t come. You move back, cradling his cheeks. Your eyes are a little glassy.

“I’m sorry for how I acted tonight”, you say.

He shakes his head, “don’t talk about this right now, my love. Just take it out on me.”

You smile without showing teeth, sniffling a little. Jungkook leans into your touch, gazing at you.

“If that’s what you want. If the idea is stupid, we can just cuddle and talk instead.”

“No. No cuddles. This idea is perfect”, you say, squishing his cheeks to the point where his lips stick out.

“Okay”, he mumbles with pouted lips, fluttering his lashes at you.

“Good.” You let go of his face. Ghosting your fingertips down his torso.

Jungkook chases your touch with shivers and sighs, gazing at you.

“Look at you. All of that is mine.”

“Everything. All of it”, Jungkook agrees, shivering especially deep when you feel up his thighs. He is so sensitive there.

“You know that you’re perfect? That you’re literally the most attractive man ever?”

“I am?”

“Mhm and it makes me furious sometimes ‘cause I have to fight stupid leeches left and right.”

“The only leech I want sucking my blood is you.”

You laugh. He laughs as well.

“So I’m a leech now?”

“Yeah, but you’re my leech. Just like you’re my egg.”

You push at him gently, “shut up, you’re the egg here.”

He grins cutely, cheek sticking out from it. You squish it and give it a kiss. Jungkook leans into it, wiggling his wrists and making the chains jingle. 

You drop your hands to them, following them until you can intertwine your fingers with him. He squeezes you eagerly, gazing at you.

So now you are kneeling on the floor, facing each other while the bad day is left outside the door.

“We’re gonna be so tired tomorrow”, you say.

“Yeah, it’s worth it. I could spend forever in your arms.”

“Oh Kook”, you lower your head and sniffle. 

“What’s the matter? Talk to me, my love”, he asks you in a caring voice.

“I just feel bad because I pushed you away.” 

“Don’t. I get it. Jealousy can make one act really out of character.” 

“Yeah”, you agree and lift his hands to kiss his knuckles. The chains jingle and he gasps softly. You linger on his wedding band for especially long, memorising the way it sits around his finger eternally and like it was meant to be there. 

“Wanna make up for it”, you say.

“You don’t have to”, he assures you, despite secretly soaking up the affection and wishing for it to last forever.

“No. I do. I really do”, you say and kiss each of his fingers, “mine.”

“Yours. Forever.”

You guide his constricted arms behind your head next so he is holding you. Like this, you close the distance, releasing a sigh of relief the second you melt against his chest. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook closes his eyes, hugging you back as best as his constricted state allows.

“This isn’t right”, you murmur and fumble with the chains. They fall from the ring of the choker, next the choker itself falls off and your face can finally touch his neck. 

You inhale and exhale, “yes. This.” 

Jungkook quite frankly has to fight tears. He expected you to be a little mean to him, but not this. You are so tender and the hug feels so healing. Jungkook has a hard time not sobbing into your shoulder miserably. 

It becomes almost impossible when you begin kissing his neck and quite frankly becomes impossible once you leave your first hickey.

The sensation soaks so deep into his fibers. It feels so good tonight.

“Oh god”, he gets out, rolling his head back and whimpering your name.

You claim his newly exposed neck gladly, starting your heart-fixing task of marking him. Some kisses here and some hickeys there. Jungkook gasps and whimpers with each of them, while you feel more and more reconnected with him.

Your hands touch him everywhere. His arms, his waist, his shoulders and back. But the most favourite spot is when you suck a hickey on his skin and you get to cradle the other side of his neck. It feels so deeply possessive yet gentle.

Jungkook finally breaks when you draw a little heart on his skin. 

“Oh god”, he chokes out and hiccups a few sad sniffles. His constricted hands fall to his face, covering his eyes as best as possible.

You lift your head, looking at him worriedly. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Sorry, today was a lot”, he gets out, trying to mask his sob with a cough. 

“Hey, Googie”, you gasp, pulling his hands away to check on him, “talk to me.”

“I would never cheat on you. I-I’m so angry at myself because I made you feel like I would.” 

“Fuck, no you didn’t. Fuck Googie, come here.” 

You hug him, Jungkook hugs you back as best as possible. He sniffles into your shoulder, but doesn’t need to spill new tears.

“I know you wouldn’t cheat, please don’t be angry at yourself.”

“So you know that I’m loyal?” he mumbles with a pout.

“I do”, you assure him, scratching him behind his ear soothingly.

“Thank god”, Jungkook sighs, melting into you.

“You know, Katy said that you would literally cry if you as much as thought about cheating on me and it seems that she was right.”

“I could never cheat”, he shakes his head, “I love you so much.” 

“I know, Googie I know. I love you too. God, let’s just…let’s get on bed, where it’s more comfortable.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You swipe the toys to the side and push Jungkook onto his back. He lets you gladly, writhing with his eyes halfway closed and his cheeks flushed.

You open the ankle cuffs and chain, taking them off. The new freedom is taken by Jungkook instantly. He uses it to dig his heels into the mattress and open his legs.

Everything about his movements lets you know that he is riding it too. This wave of deep connection. It is as if your souls and energies are forming one synergy. You heal and in the process heal him. He heals and in the process heals you. This right now is one moment of utter connection.

You take off your pyjamas and sit down next to his hips. You cup his cheek, calling his attention. 

Jungkook looks at you and whimpers. His poor constrained cock wants to twitch but can’t. It hurts, forcing a pained whimper out of him and a tortured squirm of his hips to run through him. 

“You’re beautiful”, he whispers, reaching for you with constricted hands. 

“Thank you. You’re beautiful too”, you say and close the distance. You roll on top of him and let him put his arms around you. You rest above his caged cock, head sinking into the pillow next to him and lips brushing his neck. 

Like this, you enjoy each other how nature intended it. Naked skin against naked skin, hearts beating in sync and body warmths becoming one. 

“This is heaven”, he mumbles, nuzzling his nose against you.

“Yeah, it is”, you agree, getting lost in his scent.

The clock shows thirty past midnight by now. You and he are both so sleepy already, exhausted from a bad day and so ready for sleep. Neither of you want to fall asleep however, forcing your bodies to keep moving. 

You keep you and him awake by beginning a journey to his cock. You suck hickeys all over his chest and stomach next to the letters he wrote, making Jungkook feel so fucking good that he has to twist the pillow once you reach his cock.

You shove his legs apart gently and do what drives Jungkook crazy. You leave hickeys on his inner thighs, which feels nice but which feels miniscule once you begin leaving bite marks instead. Jungkook whines so agonised that it borders cute little sobs. It feels so good but he can’t enjoy it freely.

The cage hurts. It is made of metal and digs into his erection painfully. It hurts so much. 

You aren’t making it better by licking him over the cage. Warmth and wetness, the little spots which are bulging out between the cage elements get a feel of your soft tongue as well. 

Jungkook begs. Of course he begs. Jungkook is such a natural at begging.

“Please. Hurts. Please, no more.” 

“Keys?” the word tickles him, increasing his agony. 

Jungkook mewls and lifts his hips. Your eyes flit to his hole. Stuffed with a purple plug. 

“Are you serious?” you gasp.

“Yeah. Please.”

“Shit, this is so hot”, you rasp and tug out the toy. 

His sweet hole gives it up groggily, pulsing in emptiness afterwards. He mewls, curling his toes in desperation. You can only take it in halfway, busy with opening the special plug. It is hollow inside and big enough to store a vibrator. On normal nights this is what fills the toy but tonight, Jungkook stuffed the chastity cage keys into it. You can barely fetch them or use them to unlock his cage because your fingers are shaking so much.

To think that he stored his means of freedom inside himself so you can decide when to give it to him. He is so hot and you want him so bad. 

When the cage finally unlocks, you work quickly to get it off of him, throwing it to the side once you did. 

Jungkook sobs, rolling his hips up. His poor cock finally springs into its natural position, it is purple and bruised at first but flushes more and more the longer he is free. You soothe it by rubbing him with two hands.

Jungkook moans your name, arching off the sheets. His tip flushes, leaking uncontrollably. It feels hot between your fingers as you massage it from both sides.

Your name leaves him again, as a mewled stutter this time around. He has to repeat each of your vowels twice before he finally manages to get it out. He must be so sensitive right now.

“I could fucking pass out right now. I need you so bad”, you say, rubbing your pussy on his thigh unapologetically. The friction is all that keeps you sane. The knowledge that you smear yourself all over his skin is doing the rest.

“Fuck me. Please”, he begs, throbbing and pulsing in your hands. He is leaking so much, unable to stop.

“I will. I fucking will”, you say and climb off his lap. 

Jungkook doesn’t get it, whimpering your name.

“Please.”

“I will, just…need to do this”, you say and take his wrists to guide them above his head. You pick up the chain and shuffle up his body so you can fix the chain on the headboard. You installed your very own hidden hooks for it. They come in handy as you fix him into place. 

Speaking of places, you accidentally picked out the sexiest place to tie him down. Right above his face and you aren’t even noticing it. 

Jungkook makes sure that you notice by lifting his head and connecting his mouth with your pussy.

“Woah”, you gasp, dropping the chain to grip the headboard. You catch yourself at the last moment from sitting down on his face, but you can’t stop the trembles coursing through your legs. 

Jungkook mewls, flicking and swirling his tongue eagerly. You taste so good tonight. You always do, but tonight it hits different. It brings him back to a better reality. A reality where he gets to love you without insecurities nagging at you. A reality where he is your husband and you know what this means. And a reality where his tongue still manages to make you arch your back and moan his name as you clench around nothing.

In this perfect reality this would have continued until he made you climax, but you deny him. You lift yourself and pick up the chains again, securing them on the hooks as quickly as possible just so you can shimmy down again. 

Jungkook feels empty until you give him something else by kissing him deeply. His instincts tell him to sling his arms around you, but the chains hold him back.

He whimpers, destined to kiss you without hugging you while you slowly touch him. The agony becomes especially unbearable when you finally sink him into your warmth. 

He rips his eyes open, moaning into your mouth but it sounds more like gurgled whimpers. You break the kiss, looking at him for those last few inches. 

“Can you feel this?”

“Yeah, it feels so good”, he gets out, spilling tears. He is such a crybaby when you get him subby enough.

“Mhm, it does. Means we’re one. Right?”

“One. We’re one. ___ baby, I love you”, he gets out and sobs in sync with you bottoming out and picking up a rhythm. 

He tugs on the chains again, voice turning from a sob to a moan and head rolling to the side. He squeezes his eyes shut, opening his mouth and furrowing his brows. The hickeys look so pretty on his neck and tears fit his face so well. 

Your heart pounds and dances as you ride him because you are so happy and in love. Jungkook is the perfect man and he is yours. You don’t know what wondrous deeds you did in your previous life to deserve so much luck, but you are eternally grateful. 

“Mine. You’re mine”, you chant, closing your fingers around his throat to cut off his blood flow. 

Jungkook fights the chains, wanting to grasp your arms and force you closer to his neck. He can’t. He has to fight the chains and take the very passionate ride.

“Yours. Yours. Yours”, he keeps chanting, filling the silence up with moans and little sobs as you drive him to the brink of madness.

“Mine, yeah. Fuck, I need more”, you say and sit down on him. You slide your hands from his neck and look behind yourself.  

Jungkook watches you, filling your pussy with his precum as his cock can’t seem to stop throbbing. It hurts to only be warmed. He wants you to bounce on him again. It feels so good when you do because you are so tight and warm and his cock gets jerked off so heavenly. Please he wants you to move and to choke him and to move and, and, and. This is all he needs. Great sex and intense pleasure. 

“There.”

You make his agony unbearable by climbing off him so you could get the toy you spotted.

“Please”, he begs in a shaky whisper, staring at your exposed pussy and ass longingly. You are glistening and look just a little stretched open from his cock. You are also so puffy and look so, so soft. 

He wiggles the chains, whispering your name, “please, it hurts.”

Luckily for him, you return quickly and sink him back inside even quicker.

Jungkook moans, swelling inside you happily. His eyes roll back and close, his back arches.

“You’re too needy”, you tease.

“I love you”, he argues and you have nothing to say to that. 

He is so sweet, making you smile and pick up a rhythm again.

“I love you too, you egg”, you say, rubbing his tummy as you ride his perfect cock to pure ecstasy. The black eyeliner has smeared by now, sitting on his skin messy and unintelligible. It also spread to your skin, deepening the eternal connection you and he have. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous”, you moan, slamming down on him especially hard.

Jungkook mewls, tugging on the chains and curling his toes. His submission drips from each of his blissed moans. How flushed his face is, how messy his hair sticks to it.

The knowledge that you are the only fucking person who gets to see him like this makes you feel so good. The thought that you are also the only person who he allows to be close in such sinful ways does the rest. 

His cock never felt better inside you, giving you pleasure so deep that you feel like floating. And you want more, shifting the toy you got into place.

His eyes are closed so the low hum of the vibrator turning on comes as a surprise to him. Just as the sensations do. The friction of your tightening walls hit him first, the subtle vibrations tickle him next.

Jungkook screams and tugs especially roughly. A dangerous crack follows and suddenly the chains fall from the headboard together with the hook. 

“Did you?” you slow down, staring in shock. He broke the bed.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t stop, please I’ll stay put! Please don’t stop!” he begs, keeping his hands above his head.

“Holy fuck, you’re so damn sexy tonight”, you growl and pick up the rhythm again. You press the vibrator closer to your clit, resting your empty hand on his thigh so you can ride him like there was no tomorrow. 

Skin slaps against skin, wet squelching and slurping joins it and the bed keeps creaking. Jungkook’s endless moans and helpless gasps for air almost overshadow the other sounds.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you”, he keeps chanting, looking so pretty as he takes the ride.

It is almost one in the morning. You and he are delirious in sleepiness, heads dizzy and drugged up from sex. This is so intense that it is soaking into the deepest parts of your souls.

“Fuck. Your moans”, you get out, hips stuttering.

Moving becomes difficult. Not only are you exhausted, but you are also insanely close to an orgasm. He drives you insane with his noises.

You drop to the front, slamming your hand down on his constricted wrists and burying his face in your tits.

“Gotta shut you up for a moment, otherwise I’ll pass out”, you say.

Jungkook sobs, sucking on your nipples respectively. He drools, he slurps, he cries. Your nipples have never felt more appreciated than they do right now and it is going to make you climax.

“Shit, this is…urgh Kook. Now”, your warning is useless because it still surprises him. 

He muffles his yelp in your chest, fighting your hand because he wants to hug you. You won’t let him yet, needing the support to ride out your high. You moan his name and become a new person.

“Jesus fuck, woah Kook. Ah Kook, holy fuck. Googie baby…”

And Jungkook sobs, head dizzy and air sparse. He is so close. Your orgasmic convulses feel so good around his cock. The vibrations are so intense.

You are tighter after your high, wetter and hotter too. Jungkook is almost at the peak of what he can take. He thinks that he can’t take much more. And then you straighten up. You slide your hand to his nipples to play with them and Jungkook genuinely sobs like the subby crybaby he currently feels like. You stick the vibrator between his legs so it stimulates his rim and parts of his balls. 

Jungkook was right. He can’t take much more.

“Please stop! I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me, show me who gets you so high”, you allow him, rubbing the vibrator on his sensitive hole and pinching his nipple.

Jungkook wails, kicking the mattress and arching his back.

“___!”

He almost throws you off from how aggressively he bucks his hips up, but you are used to his wild side. You know how to ride the little beast that is your husband when pleasure really controls him. You slam your hips down, rendering him useless as you intensify his orgasm tenfold. 

Jungkook cries real tears once it stops. He begs and begs and begs. 

“Please no more. Please, it hurts. Please, sensitive. Please stop.”

And you listen. Well, in your own sadistic ways. You slip off his cock but give him no break. You press the vibrator against his frenulum and squeeze down on his lower stomach.

“Please, hurts. Please, oh god please”, he sobs and coughs, writhing and kicking helplessly as you overstimulate him. You are hovering above his shaky legs, leaking the thick creampie he stored inside you. What a shame that you are leaking, but it is for the greater good. Like this, you can torture him and overstimulate him until he gives you what you crave.

And because it is Jungkook and tonight left him so fucking ruined, it doesn’t take him long to reach it. Another orgasm. So much more intense and slightly painful it hits him. The pressure you have on his bladder decides his fate. He squirts what he held inside, ruining his tensed stomach and the sheets. 

He keeps begging the entire time to please make it stop, to please know that he is sorry, to please be gentler. But he doesn’t get it as he orgasms, of course he doesn’t. You want him dry and empty with the knowledge that he will only find pleasure like this with you burned into his mind. This is your way of making sure he is corrupted and loyal to you like a starved man wanting more food.

“Please I’m dizzy, please” he begs, crying miserably. What a cute crybaby he is.

The gentleness comes after when you turn off the toy and throw it to the side, when you wipe the orgasm from his stomach and open the handcuffs. And then you hug him and he finally gets to hug you back, sobbing into your chest as his entire body trembles from what just happened.

“Oh god, oh my god.”

“I’m here. Let it out”, you assure him, holding him close as he pours out his vulnerable heart. 

It is some time past one when he finally calmed down.

“Oh god”, he gets out, shuddering. 

“Do you feel better?” 

“Do you love me again?”

“What? Gosh Googie, of course I do. I never stopped loving you.”

“Then I feel better”, he whispers and hugs you closer, “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I feel so fucking vulnerable. Oh god, everything is sore and, and warm.”

“Yeah, this was pretty intense. You did really well.”

“I just feel so good when I’m with you”, he presses out and looks up at you. His eyes are devoted and glassy.

“I feel good too, my love.” 

He smiles and you smile too, wiping the remnants of his tears.

“Thank you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Googie.”

“Oh god”, he giggles, kicking his feet, “I feel so good.” 

“Mhm that’s good. Wanna talk about the broken headboard now? You felt a little too good there, didn’t you?” you tease him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it. You made me feel so good and I couldn’t control my strength. Just wanted to hold you.”

“Mmh, it’s okay. It’s kinda funny.” You snicker and scrunch your nose. “And hot. My strong hubby.” 

Jungkook giggles, heart fluttering. 

“Yeah, yours. Your hubby. Yours. I love you”, he gets out, heart fluttering even more when you retort it.

“I love you too.”

“And you know that I’m yours?”

“Yes Googie, I do. You’re mine and I’m yours.” “Yeah, forever.”

You and he share a giddy kiss and get comfortable. You slip under his blanket and pull your pillow closer so you can stay on his side. The reason for your minimised space is the huge wet spot Jungkook left on your side. 

“Sorry for dirtying the bed”, he murmurs. 

“Is okay. It’s ruined anyway. I think we smeared your eyeliner everywhere.”

He giggles and hugs you closer, nuzzling his nose against you. You snicker, melting into him.

“Did you like it? I planned it really well”, he fishes for praise.

“I loved it. You look so sexy with my name on your body”, you give him the praise, sending his heart into overdrive, “thank you for your efforts, I really cherish them.”

“Anything for you”, he squeaks out, close to bursting in giddiness. He did enough! You felt his efforts and loved them! Oh, he will fly and dance and sing in his dreams tonight.

You and he are so tired, sleep is just an arm’s length away. Silence would be the most logical thing to share, but Jungkook still has something else to share.

“Do you wanna know something?”

“Yes, tell me.”

“Katy and Joe were really close today when I came over after work. They were this close to holding hands, I think.”

“Oh my god, this is so exciting. I’m telling you, it’s gonna happen this week. They’re gonna hold hands.”

Jungkook agrees with a little excited squeak and a nod of his head. You and he share giggles, nuzzling into each other giddily. You and he feel so good. Not only did you have amazing sex right now and made each other feel like heaven, you even got to have your daily late night snuggles talks.

This is the best ending to an otherwise bad day. Even if you wake up deadly tired the next day. Totally worth it.