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martanomb · 2 years

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MB's Monologue: Advice and Tips on How I Dropped Over 4 Stone in Weight

Introduction

I recently shared a somewhat candid post regarding many aspects of my life over the past 2-3 years and the progress I’ve made. Since then, I’ve had a tidal wave of kind comments and positive feedback, both online and in person and to be honest it’s really quite something! If you have taken a moment to reach out to me then I offer you my sincere thanks, it’s very much appreciated and I don’t say that flippantly. What I didn’t really expect though, is that a few people have been in touch to either say that what I shared has helped them in some way shape or form (e.g. gaining some inspiration to make a change) or to ask some follow up questions regarding specifics in order to get themselves onto a better path.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately that I do enjoy writing as an outlet, although hardly ever utilise the opportunity to do so. I believe in part for my own reasons (you know, to articulate a thought on a more creative platform) that there may also be some value in providing more detail and nuance as to how I managed to shift over 4 stone and become significantly fitter, healthier and consistent considering the feedback I have been receiving. I’ll keep the focus on weight loss specifically as I’ll end up writing a piece longer than my dissertation from back in my university days if I go too far off topic!

I would like to provide the preface that everything I am going to talk about here is specific to me and what works for me may not work for you. You should always absorb as much information from as wide a variety of sources as possible and figure out a bespoke approach which works for you on an individual level. I’d like to think that I’m quite an observant person and I’ve taken such a huge number of ideas and details from sources like reading books, YouTube, trial and error (my favourite!), observing habits within others and listening at the right times. Some ideas I added to my routine and have remained in place ever since, others served their purpose and were discontinued and some were immediately discarded because they were likely just garbage. An important thing is to be willing to adapt until you get it right or even just a little bit better until you can find what a new normal is – you’ll never look back once you do, trust me.

However, I do hope that for anyone who needs it that they are able to take at least one or two nuggets of information to empower yourself to progress closer to where it is you want to be. If no one does then that’s still not a bad thing as far as I’m concerned because I’ll have spent some time doing an activity I enjoy and been able to get a thought off of my chest – albeit a rather long one.

Step 1 – Increasing Activity Levels

One of the first things I changed when I started my journey (God I HATE that expression) was to become more physically active. I decided early on because I was strong yet unfit (as well as overweight) that one of the easiest ways to achieve this was to simply walk more frequently. So I strapped on my Fitbit or smartwatch and made sure that I hit 10k steps per day as often as I could manage. I now average around 15k steps per day.

By doing this I was burning an incredible number of additional calories and over a period of time the compound effect is more or less inevitable, this has such a positive impact for weight loss. There are so many forms of exercise and it is easy to get hung up on the intense stuff (which is great by the way!) or what I can't do, but walking was and remains my superpower. It should not be undervalued – it’s a calorie killer.

This leads on to the general principle that by walking more I was increasing my Non-Exercise Activity Thermogenesis (NEAT) which essentially boils down to how active you are physically out with regular exercise. General examples of this are to walk instead of taking the car for short distances (e.g. work, going to the shops, taking the stairs rather than a lift etc).

An example specific to me is that I walk to my gym every.single.time. This is approximately 2,000 extra steps per day. Now that’s 2,000 steps per day x 6 days per week which is 12,000 steps per week or over 600,000 steps per year! Do you see how one small change can lead to such a significant milestone over time? That’s the compound effect in action and it should be everyone’s ally, it’s certainly mine.

How you choose to approach a task/routine/activity (e.g. half-arsed) is likely how you will do most things in your life and your outcomes will be aligned with that. By taking a measured, positive and I’m going to give it my all here approach to every single thing you do in life will stand you in good stead, imagine how far you could progress if you actually tried and gave it your all? It’s amazing - honestly, try it. Unless you are in a very small percentage of people your body is exactly where it deserves to be, we are the result of our actions on a daily basis over a long period of time, it’s a transparent, qualitative and rather easy way of tracking progress.

In short you need to get your butt moving as often as you can and by doing so your baseline of how many calories you can consume in a day will increase, the health benefits are absolutely stellar.

Step 2 – Calorie Management

I don’t like the term Calorie Tracking so I have gone with Calorie Management as I feel it’s more appropriate because you can track anything, that doesn’t mean you’re going to see a difference. Taking responsibility and managing your caloric intake on the other hand? Well that’s something entirely different...

Weight loss can be a confusing topic when you aren’t armed with a little knowledge and it can be quite jarring at times as a result. But here is the kicker and it’s as simple as this; on any given day your body has an energy balance in terms of calories. Go over the number and you’ll gain weight, hit the number and you’ll maintain and if you create a deficit, you’ll lose weight. That’s it in a nutshell.

My biggest issue was that I didn’t fundamentally understand what I was consuming, how many calories were within that regime and what should I be looking to hit for my physical profile? I downloaded an app called Nutracheck (I now use My Fitness Pal; they all do the same thing) and started tracking what I was eating and ensured that I hit my calorie target as often as I could. I naturally fell into a 5:2 nutrition plan whereby 5 days per week I would be in a sustainable and healthy deficit with 1-2 days to allow more flexibility (e.g. the weekends). It’s important to still live a full life when cutting weight. Throughout the year or so while I was losing weight I did not skip a single social occasion that I didn’t want to (I skipped plenty I didn’t fancy, haha!) and ensured that any blow outs were accounted for and whilst doing this will slow progress down, overall I still lived a great life and didn’t have to make sacrifices which aren’t worth it, it’s important to stay connected and foster sustainable change.

To summarise this section succinctly I determined what a good calorie target would be for me and made sure I hit it on a weekly basis rather than a daily basis. You can’t be in a calorie deficit every single day for long periods of time, it’s not that good for you; physically or mentally.

Step 3 – Food Selection

After I gained a solid understanding of what I needed to do to lose weight in terms of calories, this inadvertently forced me to consider what I was eating. Whilst I can now create a deficit quite easily if I need to, I do this by selecting foods which A. I like and B. fit the right profile (e.g. calories, protein etc). Meaning I can eat loads and never feel hungry whilst maintaining a calorie deficit.

An example of how I achieved this was that I swapped almost all of my snacks to fruit, low fat yoghurts, Greek yoghurts and high protein yoghurts. I found that I still got that sweet hit but for a fraction of the calorie count of other snacks (e.g. sweets, breakfast bars etc) and often got extra protein which helped me keep my strength up as I love to lift weights.

If you drink full fat fizzy juice, just don’t. They’re a source of empty calories and best avoided (I never have but appreciate many do).

Breakfast cereal was swapped for healthy alternatives such as scrambled eggs most mornings. The eggs also contain more protein, less calories and they take more energy for your body to metabolise, honestly, they’re like a cheat code.

By understanding what you are consuming and how many calories are within you can make more informed choices and actually end up eating more and feeling fuller for less calories.

(Fun Fact: Did you know that a pint of beer has approximately 220 calories? Whereas a 25ml rum and diet coke has approx. 60 calories? Informed decisions are available everywhere, you just have to look for them.)

Step 4 – Portion Control

Leading on from calorie management is portion control and for the first time in my life I now own a set of kitchen scales. I now ensure that all portion sizes are accounted for and appropriate so that everything I consumed was part of the plan.

For example in the past I would habitually just have two of basically anything (e.g. chicken breast fillets) and why? I’ve not got a clue; it was just an ingrained habit I had. Whereas now I tend to batch cook in advance and weigh each portion so that I’m getting the correct amount. A key thing for me was weighing all loose items so that I understood their calorie profile and ensured that everything in my diet was accounted for as best as I possibly could.

Please watch your portion sizes, they’re a silent killer when it comes to gaining and losing weight. But with a little effort this has actually been something I really enjoy. Although it’s rarer now, there were many moments where I thought: Oh fuck, I didn’t realise there were so many calories in that!

(Yes, I like to swear within my inner monologues.)

Step 5 – My Training Programme

I’ve done weight training for a number of years now (10+) and it’s something I’m passionate about and thoroughly enjoy. However, at the start of this process I found despite my physique making me outrageously strong I was overweight and fundamentally unhappy with myself about that fact. One thing which really made me realise that I was unhappy about my appearance was when I was thinking why am I avoiding getting my photo taken? I used to love getting a wee photo here and there... The answer? I looked dreadful and subconsciously I knew it. I'm back to normal now though guys, get the cameras at the ready, haha!

After a period of time (over 6 months) of simply walking more and eating progressively better I went back to a public gym and really doubled down on my training.

I very gradually implemented some light cardio, then dabbled with classes and now I do both classes and weights (probably a lot more than anyone could be reasonably expected to, but that’s just me!). Although it’s something that I love, training as such is not necessarily required to make real changes. Although I would highly recommend that everyone engages in some form of exercise, it’s good for you.

Importantly it’s always a case of taking one steps at a time; walk before you can run.

Step 6 – Consistency and Dedication

This aspect is truly a winner and probably something which cannot be taught and is difficult to master. Consistency and dedication are truly my golden bullet, being consistent over a period of time you will almost always win and win convincingly, trust me.

Most changes in our lives will take time to bear fruit and at least initially change can invoke a lot of effort and stress, but this gets easier as you go. Hang in there and maintain course and your consistency will take you levels beyond what you thought was possible, beyond your initial goals and this has certainly helped me on the up-and-up. You will find if you can be consistent, you will quickly see, hear and feel the benefits whether it be kind words from others or having higher energy levels. Every day is a small-scale battle and every battle won is a step forward and ground gained. This keeps me motivated to always keep pressing forwards (not blindly though, adapt as you need to).

You’ll need to work on this one yourself here though. The best advice I can probably offer when confronted with a moment whereby you doubt yourself or you’ve hit a brick wall and you know you’re going to forfeit consistency and dedication - is to stop making bloody excuses and start making plans on how you’re going to deal with the task at hand.

In Summary

If I was less like me, which I’m not… It would have been easy to have gone in the opposite direction after realising that I was overweight. You know, my knee is fucked, I’m overweight and let’s head down the slippery slope of regression, feel sorry for myself and start a pity party – woe goes me. But that’s not me, I don’t have that in me and as a very good friend of mine told me recently: you always overcome, Martin.

Those words mean a lot to me and I’ve thought about them every day since. I wasn’t born with any outstanding talents, I lacked confidence in myself at times when I was younger (e.g. at school) and was somewhat of a late developer but now? Now I feel like I can do anything and it’s an incredible feeling. I feel well-rounded, I feel accomplished, I feel knowledgeable, I feel powerful, I feel resilient, I feel capable and I feel like I have scope to help others. I absolutely love to see people do well and work on themselves. We all have our limitations (e.g. physical) and must work within that framework but every day is an opportunity to start working towards a better tomorrow and the moment to act is now, not tomorrow, not after you’ve done X-Y or Z, it’s now. Right now.

If anything I’ve said here has resonated with you, please feel free to reach out and let me know and please also take care of yourselves. You’re important and you matter, don’t forget that. Especially if you’re not where you want to be right now.

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tdcloud · 1 year

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DVerse Lore - Luminaries and Charlatans (blog#17)

I feel like I’ve reached May in a dead sprint, racing towards a finish line only I know exists. Good lord, was April a busy month! Even without conventions to eat up my weekends, so much had to happen in what felt like such a short month. But we’re here now, enjoying May and all it brings. Let’s get down to things and on to our next author blog.

I’ll start off things again with some updates: This year’s October Novella Event poll is still up and will be ending in just a few days, so if you haven’t voted yet, get to it! It may come down to the wire on what will end up winning, so if you haven’t read over last month’s blog post that goes into depth on each of these options, take a look, cast your vote, and be sure to pledge to Patreon if you haven’t yet to join us for the main event. The more, the merrier, and the support really does help make my birth month awesome.

Secondly, at the tail end of this month I’ll be setting out for Colossalcon in Sandusky, OH and tabling at the usual Thursday Craft Fair sale. I’ve only got half a table and I’ll be selling some of Sun’s new A Little Rain Oracle Deck bundles, some of her beautiful art in the form of mini prints, as well as my usual assortment of books. Given the size of table constraints, I don’t intend on bringing my full collection. If you are lacking copies of Deluge, Petrichor, or Apricity from The Tempest Series, please email me through my contact form on my website or DM me on any of my socials to reserve a copy before the convention. I’ll essentially be holding it behind the table for you to pick up/meet up with you later in the weekend to deliver it by hand. Payment will need to be upfront, but you’ll at least be sure to complete your collection at my normal con rates now that I’m beginning to phase out older titles from my convention rotation.

Thirdly, this is the month that my new Patreon serialized story begins! Aubade is a Norse fantasy about a male magic user forced to help a kingdom dying of plague under the hand of a Jarl struggling to keep his head above water. I’ve spoken about it at length in previous blog entries, so if it sounded like a good time then, now’s your cue to pledge to join us as I release a new chapter for this work every month for the next year or so. There’s going to be a lot of really beautiful art included in the updates of this book as well! It’s going to be a very emotional, bittersweet experience, but I think one that’s worth experiencing. Chapter one launches 5/15!

I’m sure there are more things to update you all on, but those are the main things for the moment. I’m hopeful that starting next month I’ll be able to get something akin to a timeline in order for when to expect Infaust. No promises—just cross your fingers for me!

For this month’s blog, I figured we’d cycle back around to the DVerse clans and finish up that aspect of things. We’ve only got two clans left: the high-blood Luminaries and the doomed Charlatans. Both are almost diametrically opposed when it comes to inherent blood and status privilege, but there’s still something almost cosmically similar in terms of power. While Luminaries are the top of the food chain from their claim to worldly power structures, Charlatans are the epitome of what makes a vampire better than a human—even if vampiric society doesn’t see it that way or grant them deference for it.

These two make for great foils to one another for that reason. Let’s kick things off with the Luminaries, shall we?

Where to start? Luminaries are the highest of highs and experience some pretty low lows as well. They’re really the quintessential movie vampire—the eloquent, rich, highborn Draculas with the lavish homes, opulent clothing, and expensive tastes. They’re charming, well-spoken, wealthy elites who occupy high positions in government, politics, and corporations in modernity and dictated laws and societal progress in antiquity. But behind those shiny, polished exteriors, they’re utterly depraved. Luminaries are frightening not only for the power and prestige they wield, but for the deplorable habits they indulge in. They’re marked by a lack of self-control, self-restraint, and are instant gratification personified.

You see this sort of behavior echoed throughout the bloodline and throughout history as well. They’ve always occupied high positions within the vampiric hierarchy, their claims to the land and gentry too strong to break in death. Their desire to rule and govern, however, waned and waxed over time. We’ve discussed Marcu’s ascent to power in previous blog posts, so I won’t bore you with rehashing old history. Just know that prior to the Dark Ages, Luminaries tended to hold absolute control over their territories—usually the land they personally owned—and after consolidation happened with Marcu’s rise, they gave over a lot of the active day-to-day reins to Marcu in favor of enjoying themselves without worrying about who was flying the plane, so to speak. So long as Marcu kowtowed and let them do as they pleased, they had no problem lending him their names as legitimizing factors to keep the Triarii in power and fronting the bulk of the managerial aspects a position like that demands. After The Fall, Luminaries took back control entirely, using the sudden end of their extended vampiric Spring Break Vamps Gone Wild party as an excuse to reassert that only nobility had the right to rule and the skills to maintain order.

As far as origin stories, I’m sure one exists—sorting through the chaff of generations upon generations of ego-stroking hearsay, though, would make it hard to suss out, even for the most dedicated Loremaster. Luminaries have existed for as long as the nobility and aristocracy have. They maintain strict control over their own narratives and genealogies for their own purposes, and the topic of lineage is especially important when it comes to deciding matters of inheritance, fledgling stock, and territory disputes. They are simultaneously the most hands off yet high maintenance clan out there, fixated on the tiniest things so long as it satisfies some part of their egos. Great power and influence comes at a cost, as you can see, and that price tends to be inner control.

Luminaries are prone to fixations. These can be on specific people, ideas, or actions. A lot of this is rooted in the old folktales that the way to deter a vampire is to throw a handful of rice or beans or grain on your doorstep at sunset. Any vampire intent on getting in will feel compelled to count every single grain before coming inside, and if you’ve thrown down enough, the morning dawn will catch the vampire before they’ve finished their task. Luminaries have racing thoughts and low attention spans if they aren’t adequately engaged. They’re worse than amoral children when they feel “bored” and have little regard for those they view as expendable entertainment.

It takes a lot of effort for a Luminary to rise above the bad habits of their bloodline. Age can help. Going into the blood with good habits already instilled is even better, but as many Luminaries (especially Old World-leaning ones) are raised as humans knowing or aspiring towards becoming a vampire within the clan, good habits can be hard to learn in an environment that already caters to excess, indulgence, and a lack of accountability. More and more Luminaries are learning to at least contain these impulses behind closed doors, and as New World Luminaries become more prevalent, better self-control has slowly begun to enter the bloodline, one new self-made fledgling at a time.

That’s one of my favorite things to play with when it comes to this bloodline: New World vs Old World traditions. Luminaries are THE clan based on tradition. Very, very rarely will there ever be someone of low status brought into the Luminary fold. If it happens, it’s almost always illegal poaching—one of the few crimes even other Luminaries will view as something that demands punishment. The same way a royal would never dare marry a peasant, a Luminary would never bring someone of low status into the fold. But that begs the question: we don’t have landed gentry the way we did in the past, so where do Luminaries find new stock?

This is where genealogies come into play, and where Loremasters make the bulk of their living. In the Old World, Luminaries took their stock from any established lines of succession grounded and rooted to the land. When America rose to power, New World Luminaries sprung up from the families who became barons and kings in their own rights—enterprise, Capitalists, and self-made scions. Self-made families have become the common stock in modernity, and as we’ve experienced in Apotheosis, rising through the ranks of Capitalism can draw prospective Luminary eyes towards you long before you’ve realized there’s anything lurking in the dark.

We’ll get into a lot of the minutiae of Luminary lines of succession, bloodlines, and fledgling stock in the next duology of books since that’s a main conflict connecting the two standalones. It’s pretty cool stuff, honestly, and I hope you’re eager to see just how tangled these webs get when you’ve got familial bloodlines up against vampiric blood ties competing for the same things.

As for the clan-specific traits, Luminaries do have several beyond just the finances and social clout.

Enhanced compulsion, mesmerization, and presence. They can draw every eye to them just by entering a room and end every conversation in an area at will

Low self-control/impulse control

If Nicciave have OCD/Anxiety disorders, Luminaries have ADHD

Easily forged fixations with obsessive personalities

Strong defenses against vampiric compulsions from others (practically impossible to compel or mesmerize a Luminary unless you’re another Luminary, and even then it’ll be dicey)

Again, age and pre-vampiric habit formation is a big determinate in how deplorable a Luminary’s behavior will be. In Apotheosis, we see an almost four hundred year old Elijah behave fairly well. He’s got his quirks, but he’s composed, contained, and respectful. He wasn’t always like that, and he’ll explain that in his own words within the story itself, and that’s pretty indicative of most Luminary experiences—at least, it is for those who have the desire to change and improve for the better. Many don’t. Many don’t see anything wrong with how they behave. After all, they’re the elite. It’s their right to live freely, kill freely, and indulge in every vice to excess. We’ll see the full spectrum as we go.

What do you guys think? Is it worth being at the top of the pecking order when your self-control is the cost? I think no matter the clan, there’s always a trade off for the perks. It’s important to give things balance, and at the root of it all, no matter how sexy or cool we find vampires, they’re still creatures damned to live forever and consume blood to survive. Any connections they’re able to form come at a risk and for every impressive, super human power, there’s a cost.

Charlatans, especially, display that in spades. Charlatans are fascinating characters. No matter who they are, what their ability is, or how ungodly powerful they are, they’re always just… so pitiful, or conversely, fucking terrifying to behold. A lot of how I built these different clans was in terms of how things might exist if the DVerse were closer in nature to something like VtM. How would each clan work as a tabletop rpg character class? Is everything balanced? What are the downsides to each clan? Is any one clan too overpowered so as to break the game?

If anyone was going to break a game, it’d be a Charlatan. Any gamer knows that if someone or some weapon is too overpowered, it’s going to be nerfed in an update, and boy howdy, are Charlatans OP but also nerfed out the ass. From their very earliest days, they were on the outs with every other clan. Unlike many bloodlines, there is a known root for them. Their original name from before they became blacklisted pariahs during Marcu’s Dark Age was Children of Lycus. Lycus is, as you can likely infer, the progenitor of this clan. He is immeasurably old, for sure the oldest vampire I’ve got in this universe (or as my editor says, Lycus went to school with the dinosaurs). On my grand whiteboard timeline of characters, his sticky note takes up occupancy at the far leftmost edge of the board, so far left that he’d be on the wall if this whiteboard didn’t take up the entire length of my office as it is. He’s just that old.

There’s so much about Charlatans tied up with this one singular character. Not many bloodlines can say the same. Most don’t know who their sire was, let alone the progenitor of their entire clan. While a lot don’t know Lycus’s name these days, those of his bloodline—the few, at least, who have managed to stumble upon another Charlatan old and kind enough to take a moment to speak with them about such things—just might. There’s a marked lack of cohesion and clan bond with Charlys (as I like to call them). What roots they’re able to find, be it through physical connection to other Charlys or merely just the notion of genealogy or shared clan history, they grasp it with both hands. Stories of the halcyon days of their bloodline, of Lycus and his students… It’s a balm during the darkest, loneliest nights. It’s a dream of better, long-gone days, and for those who have nothing, sometimes less than nothing, it’s something. Painful as it is, it’s something.

So, who was Lycus? Lycus was an artist. A creative. A seeker and appreciator of beauty in all the myriad forms it comes in, as well as the hands of those who create it. A philosophe, aesthete, and mentor, Lycus traveled Europe in pursuit of the things he valued most in the world: creations that stirred his dormant heart. When he found the people responsible for such creations, he’d offer them the gift, or merely offer to join them or they him as they mutually taught one another new skills or means of appreciation. If he fledged, his fledglings received more than just immortality and an indelible connection to him. Every Charlatan has a unique blood gift: Lycus’s gift was that mutability. Through it he made artists, and through it, he made monsters, too.

At its core, Charlatans are based on the premise of mutability. Their blood is inherently unstable, the powers it yields forming from the core of the recipient to become a gift or curse depending on what self-preservation or instinct determined they needed most at the moment of inception. Every gift, no matter the presentation, has a spectrum to it. At its most innocuous, it may seem to be nothing more than a cheap parlor trick, but when pressed… There’s no such thing as a harmless Charlatan, and that, my friends, is the crux of what makes them so damnably sad.

Lycus had no desire for power or prestige. He never wanted to rule. He just wanted to create. His fledglings, however, didn’t always share his pacifism—or if they did, they did so in ways that screamed “armed neutrality” but with the armament in question being a nuclear bomb. It scared people, and scared people lash out. When Marcu instigated his massive cullings, it stood to reason that Charlatans would be one of the first to go, and with them, the recognition of them as a bloodline. The name change happened, almost akin to a damnatio memoriae. Lycus exchanged his life for the protection and further subjugation of his remaining kin, and the rest, as it’s said, is history.

Life for Charlatans hasn’t changed much between the Dark Ages and modernity. They’re few in number, are prevented from congregating in cities, and are loners by forced necessity, never design. If they sire, they do so while on the run or out of desperation. Very few Charlatans have any sort of relationship with their sire. It’s simply too dangerous for two Charlatans to be near each other for any length of time, and because of that, they tend to have a high rate of fledgling mortality. Most are forced to masquerade as other bloodlines in order to fly under the radar, but others… Well, there’s a reason why other bloodlines fear Charlatans and their gifts so much.

We’re going to experience a lot of the Charlatan struggle firsthand in the Mortigena book as we go through the motions with Cesare, Lycus’s final fledgling before his execution. In many ways, Cesare is the prototypical pitiful Charlatan. He was an artist who attracted Lycus’s attention, trained under him, loved him, and had everything taken from him by Marcu and his cullings. His own blood gift, the ability to sense when someone is lying, was then weaponized politically by Marcu and his cohort as he was forced to exist as a political prisoner/tool. Stripped of his clan emblem, ties, and ability to be around his kin, Cesare lived in hell. If he tried to fight back, what few remaining Charlatans in the city would be culled in response, and if he tried to kill himself, the same would likely also happen.

Lycus’s blood is mutable. It’s chaotic. With Cesare as his last, it almost seems poetic that Lycus’s first fledgling would be the root of the terrible reputation the clan has for being dangerous, volatile, and worth so much outright fear and loathing. Those of you who read my ao3 oneshot about Charon, another Charlatan, may remember his burning curiosity over someone named Mercurio. Mercurio is one of the most terrifying and fascinating vampires I’ve made for this universe, and while I think it’s a shame he’ll never show himself in canon, it’s for the best of everyone involved that he doesn’t. He’s the nuclear bomb that’s got everyone worried about fallout becoming reality, and while I think it’s awful how Charly’s are persecuted… The fact that Mercurio exists, the way he exists… It makes sense to be that wary of this bloodline. It makes perfect sense, and honestly, if I were a vampire and lived in this world, I’d be wary as fuck, too.

If there’s a vampire capable of doing what Mercurio can do, you’d bet your ass I’d want nothing to do with the whole bloodline, too. I think my character profile listing on him says it best, so I’ll just cut and paste here:

Lycus’s first fledgling. Ancient but so fey that the years don’t touch him at all. Capable of subsuming the will of his fledglings and controlling them like puppets on a string. Only able to maintain this hold while they are within his radius. If a Flower in his garden leaves, they’ll snap and exist in a hollow state. Is capable of performing this ability on others outside his immediate blood-family, but not as quickly. Feared by every vampire with a self-preservation instinct and therefore single-handedly changed the CoL’s reputation as one to be reviled and feared. Has no desire to turn his attention to dominating the world at large; that’s the only thing keeping the rest of vampiric life from ending as we know it.

Is able to independently control his Flower’s blood gifts which makes him the most powerful man on the planet, easily

Doesn’t cavort in public often, but when the mood strikes he’ll show up at gatherings to see the sights and hear different voices. Most ignore him outright, afraid to make eye contact in case he looks back. If you attract his attention, you’re already lost

Charming and incredibly insincere—but what we think of as insincerity is his absolute truth for as long as it remains interesting to him. He’s a man of absolutes that change at the drop of a hat.

There’s only one known Flower to have left his garden. Chartreuse (Char) was left behind at the manor of a Luminary who took a shine to Mercurio’s gentle clown. Char behaved normally for a few days before the tenuous connection to Mercurio went silent, and, when left alone with their own thoughts for the first time in ages, found they could no longer function. They snapped. Blind as they were in life, they did what they knew how to do; they made those around them laugh, and laugh, and laugh. By morning, the whole manor was dead, their throats shredded and lungs pulverized from laughing themselves to oblivion. At the center of it all was Char, nonverbal and listening desperately for some shred of Mercurio’s influence to come back to them.

He’s the sole reason Charlys have as terrible a reputation as they’ve got, but really, just like with the story of Chartreuse, any Charly is capable of some pretty insane things when their blood gift reaches the maximum setting on the dial. Things like that aren’t typically consciously activated—they’re stress responses, sort of akin to a mother lifting a car off her trapped child. But due to his proximity to Lycus, his age, and the fact that his personality already has few safety restraints to begin with, his blood gift isn’t easily controlled.

If you haven’t read my ao3 oneshot yet, I suggest popping over there and checking it out. Charon is a very interesting Charlatan, one we’ll encounter more of in future books, but he gives a good overview of the sort of reputation Charlys have as a whole. His own blood gift offers him more protection than many other Charlys can boast. It makes him cocky, but he’s protected. Most Charlys would kill to have the same sort of freedom he’s got to flaunt it as openly as he does.

What sort of gifts are common, though? Well, almost every Charly has a unique gift. They’re very fun to create, these powers, but also very difficult at the same time. As I said before, the gifts are a spectrum. Most will only ever operate them at their lower-end settings, but they have to have the capacity to be cranked to eleven and wreak some real, earth-shattering levels of damage if properly targeted. Cesare’s bottom-end ability is serving as a lie detector. Charon’s power, something he can control fairly well given his practice and confidence, is akin to a love-potion or roofie-aura. No one can harbor ill feelings towards him, wish him harm, or do anything but adore him, even love him, when he’s turned it on. I’ve got one Charly with something sort of similar, but his gift lowers inhibitions, more like playing with adrenaline and self-control until the logic center of the brain goes silent and lets sloppier impulses out to play. Another has a vocally-induced compulsion ability that’s far, far stronger than the usual vampire mesmerization. While vampire mesmerization is a soft, velvety urge to do what will make the vampire happy, Blair’s hurts if you refuse it. A vocal iron maiden that won’t ease off until you do as you’re told, and the commands they can give… Boy howdy, let’s just say don’t back Blair into a corner. You won’t be the same afterwards.

As you can see, a lot of these gifts are largely defensive in nature until they’re weaponized. They tie into the characters’ needs, many of them centered around the sort of defenses they needed most when they were turned/in the process of dying or are off-shoots of honed skills they already had in life that manifested more thoroughly after the fact. It’s a fun game to build a Charlatan, so if you guys want, definitely spitball one for yourself and leave them in a comment! I’d love to see what y’all come up with.

Now it’s time for questions! Everything comes from Instagram, Twitter, and private messages this go around.

What’s your favorite and/or most memorable con experience?

Okay, so for starters, favorite and memorable are very two different things when it comes to convention experiences and I love that you made that distinction. I don’t think I’ve talked much about it on here yet, but I’ve had a lot of really questionable moments when tabling. If you sell any sort of nsfw content, you open yourself up to people who have zero boundaries, zero understanding of proper ways to engage with other human beings, and just outright awful moments of people saying the most out of pocket shit to you when you did not ask. In that regard, the most negatively memorable experience I’ve probably had is every time my mother has tagged along to a con with me to help me sell and a stranger saying something completely out of line to me with her within earshot. No one wants to explain to their mother what “futanari” is. Seriously.

Let this be a reminder right now that the person seated behind a convention table is working a job. If you wouldn’t say it to your waitress, accountant, or cashier, why the hell would you say it to a tabling artist/author?

I could go on for 5k words alone on all the cursed ass experiences I’ve had while tabling, ranging from homophobic assholes to offensive comments to people seriously not understanding that just because I’m talking about my smut works doesn’t mean I want to hear about all the graphic ways they have sex with their partners. I live and operate largely in the midwest. The good definitely outweighs the bad in terms of my usual reception, but boy howdy do the bad experiences stick in my head a hell of a lot longer than the good ones, no matter how good those good ones get.

Anyway—on the other side of things, I’ve had so many wonderful experiences as well. My favorite moments have got to be when someone stops by my table and they’re cosplaying from a fandom I’ve written fanfiction for, and upon me mentioning that, they learn that I’m actually the author of their favorite fic in the fandom. That’s happened several times with HxH and DBH and I never tire of finding fans like that. One actually pulled out their phone to show me the mock cover they’d made in a college class for one of my fanfictions! It was so sweet and made my entire convention.

My favorite con experience from when I wasn’t tabling would be during my first ever Youmacon meet-and-greet. Someone showed up cosplaying Khouri ;-; I just about cried.

How do you work through writer’s block?

I get this question quite a lot when I’m out and about. Usually writer’s block hits me when I’m bored with whatever project I’m working on. That boredom manifests via different avenues. Sometimes it hits me when the section I’m on is very low action or worse—a dreaded travel scene. I fucking HATE writing travel scenes. Other times, I’ll get bad writer’s block when the project I’m working on doesn’t align with the current mood I’m in. When I’m writing something soft, gentle, and rom-com, I will inevitably get hit with crippling writer’s block because all I want to do instead is write insane survival horror. That disconnect will lock me up and keep me from proceeding on anything because while something is on the to-do list, it has to be worked on. I can’t move on until it’s done, so if I’m not making progress on it it’ll back up every other project until I do.

Now, all of that is to say that I’m self aware about what trips me up. The best way to get out of writer’s block is to know how you write, how you work, and to know yourself. Identify what is causing the block, and then you’ll have an easier time getting out of it. If you’re bored, work on something else, skip ahead to a more entertaining section, or look at your outline and revamp it to make it exciting. Find someone to talk to about the section you’re stuck on and I guarantee you’ll feel a lot more invigorated afterwards since you’ve likely just talked your way through the issue. If you’re like me and stuck with a to-do list of things that have to be worked on at certain points in the month… It’s harder then, because you have to commit to your schedule and finish things regardless of what you actually want to do. When I’m feeling bored or locked up on something that HAS TO BE DONE, HAS TO!!! I’ll do my best to muscle through it despite my lack of interest. Finished is always better than perfect, and knowing that you can come back to it in the editing phase and fix it will usually give just enough motivation to get over the hump and over the finish line, even if it’s like pulling teeth every step of the way.

Time, though, is always the best answer. It’s a luxury I don’t always have these days, but if I don’t feel like working on something, leaving it until I do will almost always be the correct answer. There’s always other things I could be working on even if I’m not writing. I could be editing something else, working on cover mock-ups, updating my website, or even handling the physical aspects of my business by adding labels onto my purchase bags, signing all of my book copies to speed up things at conventions, or just organizing the office space so I don’t get overrun with my own product.

So… long story short, I just try to focus on other things and work through shit if necessary to meet deadlines. My patrons and editor are used to me tacking on disclaimers about how certain chapters were more difficult than others and to prepare their expectations accordingly, but it’s always going to sound worse to me than it does to them, and when I go back to edit it three months later, it’ll likely not be that bad to me at that point either. Occupational hazards, I guess. I’m such an old hand at this entire process that I just roll with it when it happens.

What kind of things do you do to replenish your creativity? Ie: where do you go for inspiration, how do you sort it/save it, and what kind of stuff makes you want to create?

Lots of banger questions this month! When I need to replenish my creativity the number one thing I tend to do is consume other people’s work. I read books, watch movies, anime, shows, or go down a research rabbit hole to plumb the depths for more concepts, philosophies, or interesting dynamics that might add depth to shape whatever project I’m currently working on or wanting to flesh out.

It may surprise you guys to learn that I have to be careful about timing my intake of external content. I can become so easily inspired by good stories and art that it can completely distract me from my current projects and lead to additional ips thrown onto my already overflowing stack. But other times, I really need to just let loose and consume freely. I’ll pick up books that I’ve heard mention of or have been meaning to read over the years, find manga or doujin with interesting premises that might promise some inspiration, or pull up a new tv show on netflix recommended by a friend. Inspiration can be found anywhere, to be honest, and all I really need from it is something that gets my mind buzzing with new thoughts and different ideas than the stuff I come up with organically in my own little echo chamber.

As for where I save stuff, I’m a big proponent of buying things that serve as massive sources of inspiration for me, so if there are manga, doujins, or books that fit that, I’ll buy them and keep them on hand. If I can’t get physical copies, I save the links and create folders on my desktop to house them instead. I use my Tumblr likes as a repository of inspiration bait as well, and on there you can find decade’s old comics that have stuck with me after all this time, snapshots of long-passed zines that lit a fire in my brain, and long chains of obscure word glossaries that serve as reference for future book titles.

As for what kinds of stuff make me want to create… It can literally be anything. I can watch a bad movie with a decent premise (or even a bad premise) and come out of it with a new book idea of how I’d execute it better. Fanfiction can lead to the same exact thing, and even partial themes from an existing piece of media can spawn a huge series concept behind my eyes. I’ve even gotten inspired by terrible indie horror games that had concepts buried within their shoddily executed foundations that made me want to do it better, make it worse, make it gayer.

For example, I watched my favorite youtuber/streamer John Wolfe play a terrible indie horror game called Dinner with Strangers. Long story short, you’re trying to escape a murderous dinner party after learning that you are a clone of your “father’s” dead wife who was created solely to become his new bride. It’s terrible, shlocky, and broken af, but while discussing the concept of how entirely stupid it is to clone your dead wife and then raise the clone from infancy to become your bride (like the pseudo-incest vibes aside, why the hell would you want to marry someone you literally saw in diapers/who will never be your lost wife as her personality came from her own upbringing and such and this wife-daughter won’t ever have that same experience), came up with a better concept of how to be a possessive yandere bastard in the wake of losing your true love. It involves dimension-hopping and stealing from an alternative version of yourself. Never intended to write a story like that before watching John’s thirty minute let’s play and bitching to my editor about how bad it was, but there you go. That’s how my brain works and as I’ve said before, I’ve written books for stupider reasons.

I’m also hugely inspired by academia and the scholarship behind different tropes and concepts. I’m a huge fan of exploring how things affect readers and why certain concepts and ideas are so effective in terms of scaring or resonating with an audience. A lot of my current work has to do with horror and always has, to some extent, but as I begin writing more and more outright horror-based concepts, I’ve been delving more and more into the rich scholarship of horror as a genre and driving force behind the human psyche. I absolutely love deconstructing tropes within the genre to explore them at their base levels. Ossuary and Reliquary are really deeply inspired by that research and just my general interest in the horror genre at large, and, on the flipside, something like Courtly Love also comes from my fascination with chivalry as a philosophy and romantic device alongside the codified records we have of the edicts of courtly love as recorded by troubadours and courtiers throughout the middle ages.

I always say academia still has me in a strangle grip and I mean that in the most loving way possible. I love scholarship and basing my own work on those foundations, and I’m just as likely to find inspiration in a thesis paper as I am something like Hannibal or (more recently) Trigun. So… yeah. I get inspired by horror, history, subverted tropes, the subversive and transgressive, and roving thoughts that follow the conclusion of an external piece of media or a random daydream amounting to “How could I make this worse? How could I make this gay? How could I make this better?” and things in that vein.

If you guys are curious at all about what inspired certain works of mine, that’d probably make for a fun blog in the future, too. Chime off in the comments if there’s anything specific you’ve wanted to know the thought process behind, be it a scene, character, or story (book or fanfic alike). I’m excited to see what’s stuck with you guys and whether you’ve ever been inspired by my work the way I’m inspired by other people’s stuff!

But that’s enough for right now. -leans back in my chair with a groan- I’ve got a bit of a buffer made up now that I’ve finished rewriting the first eight chapters of Aubade, so for the next eight or so months I’ll be putting the pedal to the metal on Hiraeth, largely, and in another month or so to the winner of the October poll, too. I’m really hopeful that Hiraeth’s first draft will be completed before we hit September. The second it is, expect to see me screaming that to the rooftops on every social media I’ve got.

Please send me all the good luck you’ve got to spare as well as some prayers that I survive the crunch of these next few months—I’m going to be pulling double duty once more as I try to power through the five remaining chapters as quickly as I can. If you see me at Colossalcon this month or Jafax the second weekend of June, tell me in person as well. I’ll need it, and I always appreciate knowing people are excited for what’s yet to come.

Until next time,

T.D. Cloud

#blog #author blog #dverse #lore

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thetoxicgamer · 1 year

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Atomic Heart System Requirements – Light Sci-Fi FPS PC Specs

What hardware requirements does Atomic Heart have? The sci-fi first-person shooter game's PC requirements aren't too demanding, and you won't need crazy dystopian technology to play it. Even slightly outdated gaming PC systems should be able to run Atomic Heart without too many problems, despite the fact that the shooter appears to combine aspects of Fallout and Bioshock into a fresh package. According to Atomic Heart minimum requirements, you’ll need a GPU with 4GB of VRAM like the Nvidia GeForce GTX 960 or AMD Radeon R9 380. Whether you bat for the green or red team, you won’t need the best graphics card around to boot the frantic FPS game, and most options from the past few years should do the trick. Here are the Atomic Heart system requirements: Graphics aside, you’ll need a CPU on par with the Intel Core i5 4460 and at least 8GB RAM to run it. Again, we’re talking about minimum specs, but the bar is still pleasantly low for a game hoping to rank among the best PC games in 2023. However, if you’re looking to boost fps and play with fancy visuals enabled, you’re going to need a slightly beefier rig. Matching Atomic Heart recommended specs shouldn’t break the bank, but developer Mundfish suggests using either an Nvidia GTX 1080 or AMD RX Vega 64 GPU, a 3.8GHz processor like the AMD Ryzen 7 2700X, and 16GB RAM. Not exactly what we’d describe as the best gaming PC by today’s standards, but it should let you fight robots while enjoying higher frame rates. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ah74ys4t3Fs Lastly, you’ll need to free up 90GB of storage to meet Atomic Heart size requirements, but there’s no word on whether you should upgrade to a solid-state drive. Picking up the best SSD for gaming is going to benefit your entire Steam library, so we’d recommend making the investment anyway if you’re rocking a mechanical hard disc. If you’re the proud owner of a new GeForce graphics card like the RTX 4080, then you’ll be able to increase fps tenfold, thanks to Atomic Heart DLSS 3 support. RTX 4000 exclusive features like Frame Generation could transform the shooter’s performance without much visual compromise. It may help even cheaper cards like the Nvidia RTX 4060 pull off neat frame rate tricks when they eventually arrive, but you’ll need to make the leap to Lovelace to use the AI upscaler. Take the Atomic Heart system requirements test over on PCGameBenchmark to answer the question… Can I run Atomic Heart? Read the full article

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thisaintascenereviews · 2 years

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Avoid - Cult Mentality Back in 2019, before the world changed drastically, the year was deemed “Twenty Nine-Scene,” due to the fact that “emo” and “scene” from the early to mid-00s was coming back in style. As someone that was in the thick of it during that time, especially from 2005 - 2010, during its height, I was ecstatic. I’ve slowly been getting back into a lot of that kind of music, at least the music I used to love at the time, and while some of it has not aged well at all, a lot of it I can enjoy on a purely technical level, now that I’m older, or that its nostalgia still holds up for me. Bands like Chiodos, The Devil Wears Prada, Underoath, Fall Out Boy (pre-hiatus, even though I do still listen to them and have listened to since my “scene days”), and many more bands are ones I listened to and soundtracked my adolescence. Maybe it’s wanting to return to that time in my life, or maybe it’s just nostalgia, but I’m really loving this newfound appreciation for it all. A lot of bands that are influenced by the early to mid-00s are popping up, too, especially metalcore and post-hardcore bands. Bands like Dying Wish, SeeYouSpaceCowboy, Foreign Hands, and The Callous Daoboys take influence from the early to mid-00s metalcore and mathcore scenes, but they make it their own. One band that’s been making waves the last few years, along with them, that hasn’t been getting the same amount of press, although I hope that changes is the band Avoid. This band has another album under their belt from 2018, but it seems like people are only discovering them now, whether it was through their last EP, which is how I found them, or their new album, entitled Cult Mentality. These guys are really interesting and unique, because they take a lot of different styles and elements from that time and make it their own. They take elements of pop-punk, post-hardcore, and metalcore and throw it all at the wall to see what sticks and what sticks is a nice blend of everything I listened to during that time. You traces of bands like Chiodos, The Devil Wears Prada, Underoath, A Day To Remember, and many more, and sometimes you hear multiple influences in the same song. For the most part, lean into the post-hardcore and pop-punk aspects of their sound, but a few moments get criminally heavy, such as at the end of “Gatorfest,” or during the middle of “B0red,” but for the most part, the album is still quite accessible for people that don’t want a full blown metalcore album. If you listened to a lot of post-hardcore and metalcore back in the day, you’ll enjoy it. They have that nostalgic sound that a lot of people can latch onto, and they do it in a way that’s catchy, fun, and interesting. Everything is executed extremely well, including the vocals and instrumentation, and the album is really short, only 32 minutes, so it goes by like a breeze. I will say, however, that its blatant nostalgia is also its biggest problem. This band relies way too much on people being able to hear a sound or idea and exclaim, “Wow, that sounds like [insert band here]! I really like them!” They do execute their sound well, and this is one of the most fun albums I’ve heard all year, but if you really break it down, it’s not very unique. It’s well-done, but it’s not unique. This just sounds like it could have come out in 2009, and it would have been a big hit. That’s the problem, though, they don’t do anything with it. The hooks are fantastic, and their sound is ripped right out of the rea, but I could also just listen to the bands that they’re clearly taking influence from. That’s the tricky thing with a lot of bands in this vein, and a couple of bands I mentioned earlier are guilty of that, but a couple of others also stick out enough and do something with that sound to make themselves worthwhile, and not just a cover band, so to speak. If you’re wondering whether or not I like it, or if it’s worth hearing, it’s a yes on both fronts. I really like this, but it would be hard to say I’d really love if it wasn’t for its nostalgia factor. I might think it’s more unique, but because I’ve heard these sounds done before, I’m enjoying it, but there’s something lacking here. I’d totally check it out if you want some great nostalgic post-hardcore that will immediately have you reaching for your studded belts and skinny jeans, but if you want something more unique, or if they put their own spin on these styles, you might want to look elsewhere.

#avoid #cult mentality #post-hardcore #metalcore #pop-punk #a day to remember #underoath #the devil wears prada #chiodos

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

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Pocket Knife Prince

Pairing: c!Technoblade x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] You’ve liked Technoblade from the moment he joined Pogtopia, but you could never quite bring yourself to confess. Who knew it would only take a pocket knife and some potatoes to change that?

Warnings: minor cursing & one slightly out of pocket joke

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: this a repost of an older story i had posted a while back. this story takes place back when technoblade was still allied with pogtopia. i hope you enjoy! <3

You huffed as you pulled yourself up another rung on the ladder, your arms straining as you did your best to keep yourself balanced. You still couldn’t fathom why Tommy thought it was a good idea to dig straight down.

“I’ll hit a cave, eventually,” he had told you as he grabbed a pickaxe, already starting to mine away at the space beneath his feet.

“Maybe,” you had said. “But what if you hit a lava pool? Do you really want to burn alive?”

“Oh, I have a backup plan in case I fuck up.” He held up a bucket of water, grinning at you. “Bam. Fucking foolproof.”

Yeah, sure, you thought to yourself with a grimace as you continued to haul yourself upward. You might not have died while digging down, but I might die while climbing up.

Pausing, you reached behind you to adjust the strap of your back with a cry of frustration. This is way too heavy—I should have gone back earlier.

You looked back up again, squinting for a second before your eyes lit up. At long last, light! You were at least somewhat close to the entrance, now. “Just a bit more climbing,” you muttered to yourself as you reached up once more, “and then you’ll be able to take this stupid bag off.”

A few moments later, you gasped as you finally dragged yourself out of the vertical tunnel, standing up on shaky legs. Without even an ounce of hesitation, you swung your pack off your back, dumping it onto the dusty earth ungracefully. Your muscles practically screamed with relief as you rolled back your shoulders, a wide smile stretching across your face.

“Hey, boys!” you shouted, your voice echoing in the tall ravine. “Guess who’s back?!”

You heard some rumbling, then a tuft of blond hair peeked out from one of the overhanging pillars. “Big [Y/N]!” Tommy shouted, waving at you. “You took for-fuckin’-ever to get back.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not my fault we needed so much stuff.” You narrowed your gaze. “Also, your ladder idea sucks.”

Tommy scowled. “My ladder idea is fucking genius, you bi—”

A new voice cut in. “Tommy, that’s enough.”

You smiled triumphantly as you watched Tommy immediately shrink back, his tone quieting as he grumbled defeatedly, “Yes, Wilbur.”

Giving him a quick ruffle of his hair, Wilbur strolled down the ravine’s cobblestone steps down to the bottom. He pulled his hands out of his coat pockets as he flashed you a grin. “Welcome back, [Y/N]. How was the trip?”

You offered him a weary but satisfied look. “Oh, you know. Dark. Dusty. The usual. But…” Bending down, you flipped open the top of your pack and pulled out a smaller sack, shaking it in front of his face. “…I got all that gold you wanted! There’s probably a little less than seven stacks in there, which will be plenty if we want to make some golden apples.”

Wilbur blinked at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise as a smile began to tug at his lips. “Not that I doubt you or anything,” he said, “but where in the world did you manage to get nearly seven stacks of gold?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, dropping the bag into his hands with a hum. “In a cave.” When he stared at you in stunned silence, you quirked a brow at him. “What? It’s not like it was hard.”

He was grinning now, shaking his head. “You’re batshit crazy, [Y/N]. That’s incredible.”

You smiled sheepishly at his words. “For the record,” you pointed out, “I didn’t do it all in a single day or anything. I was gone for, like, half a week.”

“That’s still really good work, alright?” He reached over, playfully punching your shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

You winced, shooting him a dirty look. “Ow, that hur—”

“Oh, you’re back.”

Your head whipped around at the sound of low, rumbling voice. Your frown vanished at the sight of Technoblade standing a few feet away from you, a basket of potatoes held in his gloved hands. You felt your heart swell and a bright grin replace your scowl as you bounced over to him. “Hi, Techno!” you chirped.

He smiled back at you, his gaze kind. “Hello.”

From behind you, Wilbur let out a distressed noise. “Jeez, you seem so excited to talk to him but barely batted an eye at me. Did you miss him that much?”

You stuck your tongue out at him, trying to hide the flush of your cheeks. “More than I did you.”

Tommy cackled as he walked by, adjusting the straps of the pack in his hands. “Ouch. Maybe you should get some ice for that burn, Wilbur.”

Wilbur grimaced, opening his mouth to retort when his gaze suddenly lit up. “Actually,” he said, turning, “speaking of ice, who wants to go with me to the Nether to destroy some of the SMP’s and Manberg’s ice roads?” A devilish grin split across his face. “I figured that it would slow them down a bunch and they’d spend less time focusing on us, so it’ll be easier for us to get into contact with Tubbo.”

You blinked at him, then sent him a teasing smile. “Wilbur, this might one of the only good ideas you’ve had since starting a drug cartel.”

“Thank y—wait, is that a compliment?”

“Man,” Technoblade sighed, rolling his eyes at him, “just take it as one and let your ego coast on that for the next six months.”

“Anyways,” Wilbur said, ignoring him and moving on, “who wants to come with me?”

You shook your head, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “No thanks. I just got back from a long, long mining trip. I think I’m due for some time off.”

Wilbur nodded. “Alright, fair.” His gaze moved to the figure standing next to you. “Techno?”

Technoblade simply raised the basket of potatoes in his hands. “Nah. I’ve got my hands full here.”

Wilbur made a face, a hint of desperation seeping into his eyes. “You can farm potatoes any time,” he said, his voice raising a pitch or two. “How about you just come with m—”

“Why don’t I just go?”

Wilbur froze, and he turned with a shaky smile. “A-Are you sure about that, Tommy? You sure you don’t just want to stay in the ravine with [Y/N]?”

Tommy shrugged, flipping the stick in his hand. “Not really. It’s not like I have anything better to do, anyways.” He nudged the pack at his feet. “I’m even packed and ready to go, too.”

Wilbur swallowed, and you could have sworn a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. “You really want to come?” he added, sounding more and more uncertain with each word that passed his lips.

“I dunno, Wilbur,” Technoblade spoke up, quirking his lips at him, “but it almost sounds like you don’t want to bring Tommy with you.”

Tommy gasped, looking appalled. “What the hell, Will? Of course you want me to go with you, right?”

Wilbur turned on his heel, dragging a tired hand over his face. “Sure, Tommy. Let’s just say that.” He strode away toward the stairs, practically stomping his way up to the second floor. “Just give me a second to grab a pack,” he sighed, waving a hand behind him. “I’ll be down in like five minutes.”

Tommy threw his hands in the air, waving his stick. “Fuck yeah!”

Technoblade let out a quiet chuckle, turning on his heel. “Well, I’m gonna go back to farming.”

You glanced at him shyly, trailing after him. “Can I come with?”

His step faltered, and he turned to send you a fond look. “Always.”

Your heart lit up at the sight and you grinned, following him into the garden room. The entirety of the floor had been replaced with dirt, tiny streams of water weaving their way around the potato patches. You let out a quiet hum as Technoblade set the basket of potatoes on the ground, grabbing a hoe from its place on the wall and walking over to the makeshift field. Digging the blade of the hoe into the earth, he pulled back and repeated the motion until the soft, dark soil was exposed to the air. Leaning back against the wall, a soft smile crept onto your face as you watched.

You remembered when Technoblade first arrived in the Dream SMP, all those months ago. You had been sitting in the ravine, peeling an apple with a pocket knife as you chatted with Wilbur, when Tommy burst in with a deafening shout about “the blade”. Raising your head, you had opened your mouth to make a snarky retort, but the words died in your mouth the minute you laid eyes on him.

He looked like a prince—a handsome one, at that.

While Wilbur had jumped down to greet Technoblade with a friendly hug, you had simply stared at the newcomer, pocket knife in your hand and apple slice in the other. As Tommy brought Technoblade over to you and asked you to introduce yourself, you remembered that dizzy pink feeling rising in your chest as you blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“Want an apple slice?”

You had expected him to be confused, shaking his head and pulling away with a disgusted look. But instead, his gaze flickered to your hand.

“I’d rather have the knife.”

You had blinked at him for a moment, stunned, then burst into laughter, outstretching your hand with the pocket knife handle extended toward him. He had offered you a small, awkward smile back, gingerly taking the knife from you. When his hands brushed against yours, that hazy, rosy feeling swelled in your chest again.

Ever since that moment, you’d only fallen harder and harder.

It was difficult to put into words just what drew you to Technoblade. Of course, he was pretty, but you weren’t that shallow. He had an awkward charm to him, something that seeped into every aspect of his being. He was hardworking, determined, sarcastic, and oh-so very real. You couldn’t name one thing about him that you didn’t like, really. You loved his laughter that came in brief, giggling bursts. Every time he smiled, you couldn’t help but smile back. He never failed to keep you guessing, and you loved every second you spent with him.

You weren’t sure how far you’d fallen at this point, but you knew one thing, and it was that there was no going back.

“Hey,” a new voice said suddenly, pulling you away from your thoughts. You turned, watching Tommy stick his head into the room. “Can I have some potatoes for the trip?”

Your eyes shot to Technoblade, who paused for a moment, then nodded, gesturing to the basket at his feet. “Sure. You can have a couple.”

Tommy grinned, strolling in to lean down and pluck three potatoes from the pile. Standing back up again, he toed the basket, tossing and catching a potato in his hands. “Hey, Techno,” he said, “don’t you ever get tired of farming these things?”

Technoblade paused, patting down the dirt he had just covered another potato with. “Eh, not really.” His eyes flickered with contentment, and you felt your lips twitch. “I like it.”

Tommy frowned. “But,” he said, “it’s so fucking boring.”

You gasped, shooting him a glare. “Tommy! That’s mean.”

“What? Am I wrong?” He flung his arm out to point at the tilled dirt, clearly unimpressed. “All he’s doing is the same fucking thing over and over, again. We’re in a war, [Y/N]. Why can’t he just spar with me or something?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, deadpanning. “Tommy, the last time you sparred with Technoblade, you lasted less than ten seconds.”

He grew quiet. “Okay, well, you didn’t have to put it like that, but—”

“What? Am I wrong?” you said, mimicking him.

A second passed. Then two.

“…touché, [Y/N].”

“Tommy!” Wilbur’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs, his head popping out from between the railings. “You ready to go?”

Without missing a beat, Tommy whipped around, rushing out of the farm room and slipping up the stairs. “I’m coming!”

A smirk tugged at Wilbur’s lips. “Heh.”

“Wha—oh, Will! That’s fucking disgusting.”

“But it was funny,” you called out after the youngest.

“Fuck off, [Y/N]!”

Beside you, Technoblade let out a laugh, his eyes curving into two crescent moons as he set down the hoe and picked up a shovel. With a fond smile gracing your lips, you took a step toward him, leaning down to take a closer look. There was something so endearing about knowing someone as powerful as Technoblade had a hobby as mundane as farming—farming potatoes, to be more specific.

You liked it. A lot. You liked him a lot.

You wondered how much longer you could go without saying it aloud.

“Hey, Techno,” you murmured, watching his ears perk up at the sound of your voice, “could you teach me the best way to plant potatoes?”

He paused, his shovel planting itself in the earth as he turned to look at you, his lips parted in surprise. “Y-You actually want to learn?”

You bobbed your head, praying that your face wasn’t growing any warmer. “Of course. Fighting’s fun and all, but there’s more to life than just bloodshed.” You flashed him a bright grin. “Besides, an army needs food to fight!”

With a small grin, he gestured for you step closer. “You want to make sure you dig about six to eight inches down,” he explained, gesturing down the hole with his finger. “If you don’t dig deep enough, then the potato will be too close to the surface, and if you dig too deep, it’ll have a harder time reaching the top.”

You nodded, your tongue swiping over your lips in concentration. Technoblade let out a brief cough, turning away with a slight flush to his cheeks as he grabbed a potato from the basket next to him. “Then,” he continued, “grab a potato. You’ll want to cut it in half down the middle and plant it so the cut side is facing downwards.”

Sticking a hand into his pocket, he rummaged around for a second before pulling out a familiar pocket knife. Your eyes flashed with recognition as he flipped the blade open and sliced through the potato with ease.

“Is that,” you began slowly, your tone tentative and gentle, “my pocket knife? From when we first met?”

Technoblade’s hands faltered as he sliced, his gaze flickering to you with a bashful look. “It’s—um, yeah. Does… does that bother you?”

You immediately shook your head, waving your hands in front of you. “No, not at all! I-I was just wondering. I haven’t seen it in a while, that’s all.”

He lowered his chin, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “I’ve been taking good care of it,” he admitted quietly, his gaze not meeting yours. “It’s important to me.”

You blinked, your heart beating faster in your chest. “It is?” you whispered.

He nodded. “It is.”

You wanted to curl up into a ball and squeal. It only took two simple words from him to send you into a flurry of awkward smiles and blushing whines. You couldn’t believe just how far gone you were.

Technoblade stretched a hand toward you, half of the potato he cut clutched between his fingers. “Here. You try planting one.”

With a shaky hand, you gently pulled the potato from his hands, nearly flinching at the feeling of his skin brushing against yours. Carefully, you reached over and set the potato face down like he had instructed. You pointed your hand toward the pile of dirt lying just beside the hole, about to start covering the potato when his arm shot out in front of you.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, making you freeze in place. “You don’t have gloves on. I don’t want your hands to get dirty.”

You sent him a small smile, waving a hand dismissively at him. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

He didn’t budge. “Please. Let me.”

That fuzzy feeling was back, and you pulled back. “Okay,” you whispered, your stomach swarming with butterflies as you watched him cover your planted potato with his hands. For someone who made a lot of jokes regarding human ethics, he was far more caring than he let on.

“Y’know,” you said softly, glancing over at him, “it’s really cool watching you do this, even if Tommy thinks it’s boring.” A small smile flitted across your face. “There are all these specific conditions that you have to know to have the most efficient farm with the best percent yield of potatoes—it’s honestly kind of surreal just how much brainpower actually goes into farming.”

Technoblade stared at you, his eyes reflecting something thoughtful and warm, and another thought popped into your head. You felt your cheeks begin to grow warm at the words swirling around your head. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you opened your mouth, again.

“I-I, um,” you began shakily, suddenly finding the scuff mark on your shoe very interesting, “I really hope you know how smart we think you really are. How smart I know you are. Because you are. Smart, that is.”

You must have been trembling, you could almost feel it. Why was it so hard to put your feelings into words? At this rate, you were never going to be able to confess how you felt. Just how much longer could you drag this out fo—

“Hey,” he said gently, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, your lips parting as you looked at him in surprise. The moment his soft gaze met yours, a spark of electricity ran through your veins, and you shivered for an entirely different reason.

“Thank you,” he murmured, tilting his head at you. “I appreciate it.”

Suddenly, he squinted his eyes at you, his carmine gaze narrowing. “Oh wait, you’ve got something on your face,” he murmured, inching closer in to take a better look.

“Oh,” you said, a hand immediately darting up to your cheek, “that’s probably just some dust or soot or something. You know, from the mines.” You wiped at your face with the back of your hand, embarrassment shooting up your spine knowing that you probably looked dumb. “Did I get it?”

He frowned, pulling off his gloves as he leaned closer. “No, here let me just—”

Suddenly, his hand was on your face, your cheek held gently in his palm. Your heart came barreling to a stop, your entire body freezing like ice.

He was so close.

The pads of his finger were warm and calloused, yet they held a certain softness to him as his thumb slowly swiped just under her eye, careful to brush away the dirt that marred your face. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you found yourself unable to look away from him, hyperaware of the goosebumps that shot up your sides as his gaze met yours. A prince—he really did look like a prince.

For a moment, the two of you simply gazed at one another, a silent question hanging over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth.

“Can I say something kind of crazy?” you whispered.

“Of course,” he whispered, not moving his gaze from yours for even a heartbeat.

You sucked in a deep breath, screwing your eyes shut. “I…” You swallowed. “I really, really want to kiss you, right now.”

A moment of silence passed, and you held your breath, tension digging itself into your shoulders. Oh, I’m totally about to get rejected. This was such a bad idea. What was I even thinki—

“Can—” He started then stopped, and you could have sworn his cheeks were pink. “Can I say something even crazier?”

You heart leapt. “Yeah, totally,” you breathed.

He turned back to look at you, and you felt something deep in your chest click. “I really, really want to kiss you, too.”

Your eyes flew wide, and you couldn’t stop the giddy grin forming on your face. Almost imperceptibly, Technoblade dipped his head down close to yours, his crimson eyes darting across your face as he took in your every feature. As he leaned closer toward you, a question silently flashes in his gaze.

Can I…?

You smiled and nodded oh-so subtly, just for him to see.

Yes, yes, yes.

Ever so slowly, he leaned down toward you, and you felt your eyelids flutter shut. Just then, his lips met yours, soft and tentative like a deer taking its first, shaky steps. Electric ran down your spine at his velvet touch, your hands reaching up to wrap around his neck and touch his cherry blossom pink hair. His crown tumbled to the ground off his head, rolling a few times before coming to a full stop, but neither of you particularly noticed, far too enraptured with one another to care.

This was everything you could have possibly asked for.

A moment later, you pulled apart, gasping for air as the two of you gazed into each other’s eyes. His hair had been mussed by your touch, his lips parted and puffy from the kiss.

You didn’t think he could look any more princely, but he still managed to prove you wrong.

Clearing your throat, you cast eyes away in shy embarrassment. “I feel like I should also clarify that this means I like you,” you added in a rush, fidgeting with your hands. “Like, way more than I thought I could ever like a person.”

Technoblade let out a sigh of relief, lips curling at the corners. “Oh, that’s good. I like you, too.” Your heart did a backflip in your chest, shouting in celebration as he added, “I was sort of thinking we were just gonna kiss and never talk about it, again.”

You shot him a quizzical look. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

He sent you a crooked smile, but his gaze was fond. “Only kind of.”

You weren’t quite sure how many minutes passed in comfortable silence, both of you simply basking in the other’s warm presence. It was nice—this was nice. You wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while longe—

“—y it, Tommy, just say it!”

Your eyes shot wide open in panic. Across from you, Technoblade’s expression mirrored your own.

They were back.

“I’m telling you it’s okay, Tommy—you can call me ‘Wilby’ if you want to!”

Flailing your arms in a panic, you immediately began to backpedal to the other side of the room, Technoblade picking up his shovel and beginning to shovel as fast as he could.

“You’re still going off about this shit? Jesus Christ, I don’t want to call you ‘Wilby’, oh my fucking go—”

Wilbur crooned as they stepped into the garden room, “Aww, Tommy, my little gremlin.”

“Shut the fuck up, Wilbu—”

“B-Back so soon?” you prompted, pretending to have been looking at the potato field with great focus as you turned to face them.

Wilbur turned away from Tommy, the smile sliding off his face. He nodded with a sigh, adjusting the pack on his back. “We almost got to the portal, but Antfrost saw us, so we had to book it.”

Technoblade paused his movements, deadpanning with an unimpressed tone. “Tragic.”

Tommy scowled at him. “Don’t sound so cocky, bitch. You didn’t have to outrun like, half of the SMP all the way back here without getting tracked.” Suddenly his gaze shot to the ground, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “And why’s your fuckin’ crown on the ground?” he muttered, snatching it from the dusty floor and tossing it back over to Technoblade.

“No reason,” you said half a beat too quickly.

Wilbur’s eyes flitted back forth between you and Technoblade, taking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and Technoblade’s disheveled hair. Then, a sly, scheming smile crept onto his face. You gulped.

Oh, he totally knew.

“Tommy,” he said, the shit-eating grin still plastered to his face, “how do you feel about going on another trip with me?”

Tommy’s head whipped around, his eyes swimming with confusion. “Another trip?” he parroted.

Wilbur nodded, still smiling. “Yep. Another trip. Let’s get going, yeah? I’ve got something wonderful in mind.”

Before Tommy could even react, Wilbur had grabbed onto the handle of his pack, dragging him back and up the stairs. “Wilbur! What the fuck? Where are we even fucking going?”

“On a trip!” Wilbur sang as he trudged up the stairs with Tommy in tow. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he sent you a knowing wink. “You two have fun, now.”

You gaped at him as he walked off, Tommy still kicking at his heels when they vanished from sight. A moment passed in silence before you turned to look at Technoblade, again.

“He knows,” you whispered, half in awe and half in horror.

Technoblade grimaced back at you. “Oh, he absolutely does.”

A beat of silence fell over you. Your eyes locked onto his carmine ones, and something seemed to click just then, a smile crossing both of your faces.

Indeed, Wilbur had just provided you with the perfect opportunity.

Who were the two of you to not take it?

1K notes · View notes

letterstotheflre · 3 years

Text

my drug is my baby

summary: sirius is glad he was patient enough with you and takes part of what he has been craving most

warnings: daddy kink, a smidge of religious references, dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering and oral sex (fem receiver), innocence/corruption kink

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i kinda hate this now but i think it’s because i read it too many times, idk || i think it's a universal experience to not being able to cum from your own fingers... right?? and we all know that sirius has a crying kink... also i think it’s so hot when they make you thank them for letting you cum, sue me!!

Sirius Black liked to believe he was a patient man when he needed to be.

He was known for being reckless, always jumping into the next adventure without much thought, ready to follow James wherever he went. Most of the time he spoke without thinking, especially if he knew his comments would make his parents red with rage. Sometimes he didn’t even mean what he said, he just spewed whatever progressive or controversial opinion he had in hopes of making his mother’s heart stop beating.

He revelled in making rash decisions, somehow always ending up being benefited by them. He never gave much thought to anything: always doing his homework last minute yet somehow still getting top marks, taking some jokes too far, never taking into consideration other people’s safety unless they were close friends.

Some may call him selfish, but he liked not having to put too much thought into every single action. He spent most of his childhood walking on eggshells, afraid of saying the wrong thing and being punished or worse, Regulus taking the beating for him. But now that he finally escaped the Black family, he enjoyed the freedom that came with leaving Grimmauld Place.

He enjoyed breaking rules and creating chaos. It made him feel mighty, knowing he had the power to make all of those choices, still coming out on top, and see how they affected certain people. Most applauded him, revered him for being so spontaneous and adventurous; others couldn’t stand him, complaining about his mean jabs and sometimes harmful pranks.

Yet he knew how to wait for the things he deemed important or worthy. He knew that it was best to wait for Euphemia’s cherry pie to cool down before eating it, to wait for three days after the full moon to make a werewolf joke to Remus, to wait a few hours after James lost a Quidditch match to suggest a quick trip to The Three Broomsticks. And he knew it was best to wait for you.

Good things come to those who wait, that was his mantra. Of course, most of his restraint when it came to you was because he cared deeply about you and your comfort, but his conscience also drove him to keep his hands to himself. Every time his hands were about to go under your skirt, every time he heard your breathy moans when he kissed your neck, every time you looked at him with pouty lips begging for a kiss and his fingers craved to squeeze your neck, he took a step back. He felt so guilty for tainting something that in his mind was so pure, so he just held you close and peppered your face with kisses until you giggled.

But the thought of you being so untouched and how bashful you looked when he teased you or someone made a sexual comment made him want to ruin your innocence. Something inside him craved to see you tainted, to have you writhing under him as he rolled his hips against yours while you clutched his shoulders. He wanted to take that holiness you had and turn it into something so sinful that there was no way for you to ask for redemption.

And when you opened the door and took the first step, who was he to deny you?

He dragged everything out. Since the day when he taught you how to touch yourself, he wanted to make you wait for every sexual act that followed. He wanted to see how long it would take for you to beg him for some relief.

So today during a lecture when you looked at him with glazed over eyes and begged him to help you relieve the strange ache you felt in your stomach since you woke, he decided to be benevolent and give you some relief. He swiftly moved his hand under your skirt (thanking God that most of your closet consisted of that particular piece of clothing and dresses) and pushed aside your underwear before his fingers made way between your dripping folds. He didn’t enter you, just played with your clit until you had to bite the back of your hand to muffle your moans.

But when you whispered a small “thank you, daddy” and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, the only thing he wanted to do was take you back to his room and press you to the bed until your legs shook and tears ran down your cheeks. His eyes quickly scanned the classroom to make sure no one saw or heard anything, shoulders tense because of your words. All he could see were students with their own glassy eyes as they listened to whatever the professor was talking about. Fucking tease, Sirius thought.

And now, as he watched you on your knees and clutching his leg, lips pouty and cheek nuzzling his jean covered thigh, he was thankful for being patient enough.

“Please, Sirius, they’re back,” you said. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but played dumb as one hand petted your hair. “What’s back, baby?”

“The tingles,” you explained.

“And you need me to fix it, hm?” A small taunt was evident in his tone. “Your hands aren’t enough anymore, right bunny?”

Your cheeks warmed up at the implication, nevertheless, you shook your head. You still managed to make yourself cum, but the way Sirius could play with your clit like an experienced musician and how his big hands moved your hips along his jean covered leg would never compare to your dainty digits. The thought of his big fingers inside of you was enough to increase the tingles, and your hands pressed down on your stomach trying to soothe the pain.

“Please, Sirius, it hurts so bad,” you whimpered.

“Use your words, angel. Be good,” he said. You looked up at him with watery eyes, your mind already slipping and not letting you form too many coherent thoughts. “Please, daddy,” you sniffled.

He kept petting your head. “What do you want, angel?” He asked, looking almost bored with the situation as he listened to your pleads. “Anything,” you whined.

He shook his head, mocking disappointment. “You know you have to ask for what you want, puppy.” Even though he wasn’t angry, honestly a little amused at your desperation, his voice was stern, trying to engrave his rules in your fuzzy brain.

Your hands squeezed his leg, “I need you… down there.”

“You need to be clearer.''

You closed your eyes. You hated being so crass, but Sirius certainly had no qualms about it. “I need you… in my pussy,” you got out. But it wasn’t enough, not for Sirius who longed to ruin every aspect of your innocence. “What do you want, baby? D’ya want my fingers or my tongue?”

“Both,” you whined. Bingo, he thought with a dark smirk that would’ve sent shivers down your spine if you weren’t absolutely drenching and desperate for his touch. “Up you get, puppy,” he said, “lay on the bed f’me.”

You got on the bed right next to him, your head laying on one of your fluffy pillows. Your dress rode up a bit with your movements, but it didn’t really matter, and you pressed your legs together trying to relieve some of the tension while you waited for Sirius to do something. He simply watched you, taking in the image of you wriggling in place and toying with the rings he bought you for your birthday.

You felt a soft touch on your calves, and it gave you a fluttering feeling in your stomach. Sirius’s hands were moving slowly up your legs, nudging them apart without needing much force since you complied immediately. You were about to burst, ready to scream at him to just get on with it, but decided to keep quiet.

One of his hands made its way to the edge of your dress, swiftly going under it and his fingers slightly grazing your clothed pussy. Your hips bucked at the soft touch, but then just as quickly as it came it was gone. “No, come back!” you implored, reaching for Sirius’s wrist but being too slow.

Sirius arched one eyebrow, “What was that?”

“I’m sorry!” you cried out, “M’sorry, I just need you so bad. It hurts.” But Sirius remained where he was, arms now crossed over his chest as he looked at you. His eyes were full of disappointment and you wanted to cry, “What’s gotten into you today? You were so demanding in class before, so bratty, I don’t think you deserve it at all.” He was stretching the truth, you were by far the least bratty person he had ever been with, but he couldn’t help himself when he saw how much his words affected you.

A few tears fell at his words, “No, no, m’not bratty. I’m a good girl, daddy. I promise I’ll be so so good, your best girl! I won’t ask for anything more, m’sorry.'' You were saying anything you could to convince him that you were still his good girl, his angel.

Your lips were quivering and your chest was heaving with sobs you tried to keep inside; babbling apologies and trying to convince him that you would never act like this again, and he finally took pity on you. His hands gripped your ankles and opened your legs so he could lay comfortably between them. He could see a dark patch on your lavender underwear, and he huffed out a laugh with a slightly amused shake of his head. “I forgive you, bunny, but you’ll have to take everything that I give you. D’you think you can do that f’me?”

You nodded eagerly, choking a small ‘thank you’ as you tried to control your breath. He grabbed the ends of your dress and bunched it up over your waist, not bothering to take it off. He licked a strip over your underwear and the combination of his warm tongue with the friction of the cotton cloth was enough to make you mewl.

Sirius could not deny that he had been craving to taste you once more after he licked your fingers clean that day, and now only getting a smidge of your taste from what seeped through your underwear drove him insane. He needed to taste you completely, so he quickly pulled them off and pocketed them in the back of his jeans.

He used his fingers to spread your folds wide open, staring hungrily at all the slick that had gathered. “Oh puppy, look at the mess you’ve already made,” he crooned. “Y’re dripping, d’ya really need me this bad?”

“Yes, so so bad. Please, daddy.” He was so close, his warm breath hitting your wet folds and making you tremble in anticipation.

You watched, using your elbows to raise yourself a little, as he slowly started to take his rings off. “Hold ‘em for me, bunny, don’t want them to get dirty,” he said as he slid his chunky rings into your fingers. The metal dangled a little because of the size difference, so you closed your hands to keep them from falling.

Finally, his tongue made contact with your clit and you sighed in relief. It was followed by a moan when he started to suck on it, making sure to swirl his tongue all around before slurping. He looked like a starved man that finally came into contact with some sweet fruit, moving his head around your pussy to have you gushing on him. The ache in your tummy was slowly decreasing, now replaced with a nice fluttering feeling.

Your whines and moans echoed through his ears, resembling the most beautiful angel choir he had ever heard. He pulled away for a moment, “I’ve been waiting to taste you for days, puppy. S’better than I remembered.”

The more he pushed his tongue inside you, the more your legs shook. You involuntarily closed them, your pillowy thighs acting as earmuffs around Sirius’s head. He let them rest there for a few seconds before pushing them open once more, adding more fervour to his movements, eager to drink your sweet ambrosia.

Your closed fists went to his head, and you opened them a little to grip his hair, trying to ground yourself. “Gonna cum, daddy, can I?” You breathed out. Sirius just hummed, sending vibrations that were enough to make you let go. You tried to close your legs once more, but his shoulders prevented you from doing so. You felt like you were floating, your brain shutting off for a few seconds before returning to earth.

But Sirius didn’t stop moving his tongue, one of his fingers circling your hole before entering you slowly. Just one of his fingers felt like two of yours, even though you knew it wasn’t an accurate comparison. The stretch this time burned more than when you touched yourself, and you whined while shaking your head. “Too much, s’too much.”

Sirius paused for a moment so he could press your legs to your chest with one hand while the other kept moving in and out of you. The sudden switch in position made you gasp, but not as much as when Sirius thrust his fingers hard. “Are you dumb? I told you you had to take everything I gave you. D’you want to make me mad again?”

More tears fell when he curled his fingers, expertly finding that spongy spot inside you that pumped white heat through your veins. The way they twisted resembled a musician fiddling with a harp, your needy whines accompanying them like the main act. “No no, I can take it” you gasped, drowning in bliss as his fingers kept hitting the perfect spots.

You were already so close, Sirius giving you no respite as he quickly pushed his fingers. Your hand gripped his arm, fingertips digging the ink-covered skin. “C-close,” you whined, eyes rolling back and mouth open as you felt the tension ready to break.

“Going to make more of a mess, angel?” he grumbled, and you tried to nod as much as you could in your constricted position. Sirius chuckled, “Dirty little thing. Go on, I’ve got you.”

You whimpered brokenly as he pulled another orgasm from you. It felt like his fingertips were scrapping your insides to drag it out, and your feet dangled in the air as you swung them while trying to grab his wrist to stop him from moving.

Sirius couldn’t tear his eyes from you, with your pretty tears dripping down your cheeks and your chest heaving with small sobs from how good you felt. For him, all for him and only ever for him, because no one had ever touched you like he has and no one else ever would. “You look so pretty like this,” he cooed. “God I love your tears, baby, look how hard you make me.”

Your eyes moved down his body—when had he taken off his shirt? His tattoos splayed over his toned muscles made you clench around his fingers. You adored the small drawings that covered most of his body, they looked so beautiful on him and you just wanted to cry even more at how pretty your boyfriend was. When your eyes moved lower, following his previous instruction, you could see there was already a bulge in his pants that you knew was his cock, and your mouth watered at the thought of it just resting against his stomach like it did the first time you sucked him.

“I wanna feel you,” you cried while stretching your hands to touch him. He let you, your soft palms going over his chest and grabbing his shoulders so you could pull him down. “Kissie,” you breathed, letting his lips hover over yours for a second before kissing you hard and messily. His tongue played with yours and it only added more fuel to the fire inside you.

A moan broke you apart when his fingers resumed their pace, “P-please, no more” you babbled, the stimulation too much to bear.

“How are you gonna take my cock if you can’t take my fingers, hm?” He asked and you whined, his fingers burying themselves up to his knuckles and making your eyes roll back once more. Your mouth was dry from being constantly open, whimpers and moans constantly escaping from the open cavity. “Come on, one more, I know you have it in you. My good girl aren’t you?”

The squelching sounds were so dirty and they rang through your ears, yet even through your fuzzy mind you could discern the important words, “Y-your good girl,” you managed to get out with a smile, glad to be praised by him.

His other hand pressed down on your legs even more, and now you could see the way the digits moved in and out of you, a slight sheen coating the skin every time they came out. “God, you were right, bunny, you are tight,” he grunted, “I don’t think I’ll ever fit, m’gonna break you.”

At that, your eyes widened. “No no, you’ll fit, daddy!” But he just chuckled at your desperation, “M’gonna break you in half, angel. Do you want that? Do you want me to split you open?”

A small chant of ’yes’ and ‘please’ echoed through the room. You could feel another wave coming, ready to wash over you as your toes curled in anticipation. It was like you were dangling on the edge, your hands holding on for dear life as you tried to hold on, and your moans grew louder and louder with every thrust Sirius gave.

Your clenching walls around his digits were warning enough for him, and he kept his eyes on your form as you struggled to keep it at bay, waiting for his permission. He watched as your ring clad fingers scrambled to the sheets, gripping them tightly as your head moved from side to side. “That’s it, bunny, let go f’me” and with one harsh thrust, you slackened the hold you had on your release and finally let go.

If you felt like you were still on your body you would’ve screamed. A white heat engulfed you as your vision grew hazy, your hips raising of their own accord and aiding Sirius in dragging your orgasm out. You looked so beautiful like this, a sweaty sheen on your skin and now tangled up hair sticking to your forehead. Sirius leant down, tongue cleaning the fallen tears before they dried, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you.

He grabbed your face, squishing your spit covered cheeks. “What do you say, angel?”

With a shuddering breath, you looked into his stormy eyes as he cleaned your release from his fingers with his tongue. “Thank you, daddy.”

You tried to lower your legs, but Sirius kept them in place. You stared at him, confused, yet he was staring at your puffy cunt, all shiny and stretched out for him. A smirk covered his lips as he finally looked at you, “I think y’re finally ready for m’cock, angel.”

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1kook · 3 years

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BORN SINNER III

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summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning.

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver.

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else.

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work.

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone.

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow.

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again.

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears.

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards.

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning.

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good.

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life.

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you.

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands.

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word.

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him.

But still.

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess.

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning.

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience.

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned.

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants.

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet.

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord.

But he’s scared.

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you.

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character.

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t.

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made.

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors.

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs.

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up.

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.”

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you.

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease.

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean.

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes.

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead.

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness.

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there.

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything.

“__?” he says before he can stop himself.

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you.

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin.

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?”

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained.

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind.

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words.

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before.

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch.

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you.

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him. With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.)

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I’m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh.

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed.

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that?

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so.

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not.

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.”

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.”

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place.

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion.

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later.

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car.

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his.

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.”

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly.

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out.

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different.

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you.

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you.

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity.

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up.

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his.

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content.

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you.

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that.

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long.

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm.

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back.

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open.

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat.

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again.

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?”

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips.

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again.

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now.

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once.

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in.

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t.

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms.

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?”

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough.

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist.

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him.

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl.

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple.

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror.

The sight of him is… weird to say the least.

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface.

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down.

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side.

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck.

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day.

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close.

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday.

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips.

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself.

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him.

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him.

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do… things.”

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space.

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin.

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you.

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it.

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress.

It felt good.

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v-hope · 3 years

Text

Brat, 8:47PM — Belong

Taehyung’s eyes travelled from the phone in his hand to the door the second he heard it being unlocked by you. Nevertheless, it remained closed — your rather fast steps being heard as he supposed you made it to the other side of the bedroom.

Standing there, he stared at the door for a few seconds. Although he had been very demanding only seconds ago when it came to you letting him in so he could properly check up on you, now that the lock was no longer stopping him from getting to you, he couldn’t help but hesitate. After all, what was he supposed to do now? Go in, of course, but then what? He didn’t know what to say to begin with. He had just acted out of instinct. Your parents were raising their voices at you, you were crying… the obvious thing to do was for him to rush over to you and tell them off, right?

It had all happened so fast. One second he was in his studio talking to Jimin over text messages, and the next one he was next to you telling your parents to leave his place, for they were not welcome if they were there to mistreat you. They had told him off as well, of course, and maybe he should be scared or at least a little bit worried over his career now that one of the most powerful families in Korea was against him, but, for some reason, he did not care. He was just glad they were gone and you no longer had to listen to their judgemental remarks and harsh voices.

Biting down on his bottom lip as he realised he could do nothing but go inside the room now, he decided to do just that for once and for all. The sight in front of him only increasing his concern.

You rushed from one place of the room to another — open luggage on your bed as you rushedly tried to fold your clothes, yet ended up just messily throwing them inside, as your hands were visibly shaking and you couldn’t manage to properly hold anything in them. That wasn’t what had worried him the most, though, but the way your eyes were welled up with tears and seemed lost, in a way he had never seen before.

“Let me help you” Taehyung managed to blurt out as you struggled with yet another blouse to fold.

You said nothing. Didn’t even look at him. It was as if you were too deep inside your own thoughts to even hear him — only realising he had indeed opened the door and was already in the room with you once he rushed towards you and tried to grab the piece of clothing from your trembling hands.

“I got this” you shook your head, hugging the light fabric to your chest.

“Let me help” he repeated what you had apparently not heard before, tightening his hold onto the blouse.

Nevertheless, you shook your head no again, pulling it tighter against your body.

“I’ve got this” you reassured him.

“You don’t, Y/N…” he replied softly, almost as if trying to soothe you with his voice alone.

The way he looked at you right then, with those chocolate eyes of him visibly softening at the sight of you… you hated it. He stared at you with an expression you had never seen on him before, not while looking at you. And you didn’t know whether it was pity or concern, but you could tell he truly cared. Just like he had admitted over text messages and you had not believed him, for some weird reason, he cared.

And that simple realisation made you finally break down in front of him.

No longer being able to look him in the eye, you let go of the blouse he was holding as well and lowered your head, finally letting the tears that you had managed to control only one minute ago fall all over again — the ones you’ve had so much trouble trying to conceal ever since your parents had started pointing out every single aspect of your life they considered to be a complete failure.

Taehyung was right. You did not have it under control. None of it. Not the packing, not your life. Especially not your life.

Everything was a mess. Your life was a complete fiasco. You were doing it all wrong. And the funniest part was that everything your parents had judged about what they were seeing in Tae’s apartment —which was way too small, among other things, according to them— was not even real anymore. If they knew you had moved out to Hobi’s a few weeks ago now, and that his place was even smaller than Taehyung’s, they would’ve taken you right back home with them like they had just tried to do only minutes ago.

You weren’t doing well enough for them to let you live away from them and their rules, and you didn’t know if you ever would be able to live up to their expectations, whether it was back home with them or trying to make a living on your own.

You weren’t earning enough money to live the life you were used to. You weren’t keeping up with your public image the way you were supposed to. You were hardly ever spending time with Sungjin to make everyone believe you guys were together. And so, you could no longer stay strong like you had tried to for so long, for in that moment, in that very moment, you truly believed your parents were right.

Covering your face with both your hands, you sat down on the edge of the bed as you let the first sob come out of your mouth. After that, there was no stopping — sob after sob being heard through the room, each of them louder and more heartbroken than the first.

Taehyung stood there almost frozen, not knowing what to do at all. He had never been good when it came to comforting people, and the fact that it was you the one breaking down right in front of him only made it so much worse. Did you want space? Did you want words of encouragement? A hug, maybe? God, he had no idea how to deal with you and it was driving him crazy. He wanted to make it better, to stop you from hurting, yet he had no idea how to, or why he even cared so much to begin with.

He awkwardly cleared his throat — your blouse long forgotten as he let it fall into the bag and sat beside you.

“Hey,” he quietly tried to call your attention, which only caused you to shake your head no as you buried your face deeper against your palms, with that simple act of yours letting him know you weren’t ready to look at him just yet. “I know we’re not exactly friends, but… you can trust me, really. Whatever you’re going through right now, you can tell me”.

You choked on a sob, considering whether opening up to him was a good idea or not, for opening up to just anyone was not something you could do. As a heiress and with the eyes of the Korean media on your entire family, you could truly not. And a month ago, you would not have said a word about it to Kim Taehyung. However, he had been there for you in moments you would have not expected him to, and so now, you did trust him. Not entirely yet, but just enough to let him know a piece of what was troubling you right then.

“They want to take me back home” you managed to croak out, bottom lip trembling as you spoke.

Taehyung froze. Something about that idea not feeling right at all. “What?”

You took in a shaky breath, only to let another sob out as you lowered your head, somehow trying to hide from him more than you already were. “They don’t like it here. They say it’s no p-place for a heiress, and I would... love to say they’re wrong because I… I like it here. I like it at Hobi’s and I like my job and my friends, but t-they’re right. I can barely manage by myself, I-I’m a mess… I’m a complete mess an—”

“Yah…” he tried to call you out on it without sounding like he was scolding you. Moving closer to you, he hesitated for a second before he wrapped one of his arms around you, feeling at ease when you didn’t pull away from him and instead had seemed to accept his somewhat awkward show of affection. “You’re just getting the hang of it. You’ll get there eventually”.

You took in a shaky breath, leaning closer to him and finally letting go of your face, only to hide it on his chest so he still couldn’t look at you. “I thought I had finally found my place, but…” you sighed. “They’re right”.

“They’re not” he was quick to deny.

“Yes, they are!” you cried, voice muffled as you remained stuck to his sweater. “Like, am I going to be a barista for the rest of my life? Am I going to be looking for roommates all the time? I can barely afford that, and I can’t go on like that until the day I die” your voice broke. “I enjoy the luxurious life. I also enjoy my current job and my friends. But those two lives don’t go together and somehow I feel like I don’t belong anywhere…”

“Stop that,” Taehyung sighed heavily. “You belong anywhere you want to”.

You shook your head no, tugging at the fabric of this sweater as you tried to hold back another cry.

“You do” he reassured you before you could even open your mouth to deny it.

Once you silently shook your head no for what felt like the millionth time, not trusting your voice at all anymore, he sighed again, deciding to say nothing and pulling you closer to him instead, this time wrapping both arms around you and resting his chin on your head. You didn’t wait to hug him back, burying your face deeper in his chest and letting the rest of your tears roll down your cheeks as your sobs finally started to calm down after a good couple of seconds.

Somehow, being held by him made you feel better.

“It will be alright” he quietly tried to cheer you up.

That’s when you decided to finally stare up at him — pity no longer displaying in his eyes, but what seemed like hope, determination. He couldn’t help but smile sweetly at the current sight of you, your gloomy eyes and puffy face making you seem adorable for some reason. It was a side of you he had never seen before, and, oddly enough, he liked it. You seemed genuine, no longer being that unreachable heiress who so badly tried to keep that perfect image for the world to see. It was just you. You and those innocent eyes he had found a liking to right then.

At the way he was ever so intently staring at you, you didn’t wait to hide your face once again.

“Yah,” he laughed breathily, pulling your hands away from your face so he could look at you. “Why are you hiding?”

“I look hideous” you sheepishly admitted, staring down to your lap once you gave up on trying to cover up from him.

“Is the Kim Y/N really doubting her looks right now?” he couldn’t help but tease, feeling a smile curving up his lips at the sight of the shy one that had shown up on yours.

“I’m an ugly crier” you shrugged, still not daring to look at him.

Taehyung chuckled, cupping your face in his hands and leaving you with no choice but to lock eyes with him as his thumbs gently wiped your tears. “If you call this an ugly crier, then let me tell you you’ve got the wrong concept of the word ugly, princess”.

You couldn’t help but let out a light laugh that had his heart skipping a beat, just like yours had done at his words. “Are you calling me attractive now?”

“More like cute,” he corrected. “But whatever floats your boat”.

“Same thing” you teased him. “Thought you hated me too much to fall for my charms”.

Taehyung rolled his eyes at the way you had playfully batted your eyelashes right then. “First, I don’t hate you. You get on my nerves and are definitely not my favourite person, but hating you would take way too much effort” his words managed to get a roll of eyes from you this time. “And second, I’m not blind, Y/N”.

You smiled, deciding to reply nothing to the compliment he had oh-so-casually given you and just locking eyes with him instead. And you just stayed like that for a while, staring at each other in utter silence as words were suddenly no longer needed.

It was only when your faces had somehow gotten slightly closer and your eyes began to travel from each other’s eyes to your mouths, that Taehyung pulled away, awkwardly clearing his throat and avoiding your eyes as he stood up and nervously ran a hand through his hair.

“You can, um... you can stay the night” he informed.

“You don’t have to worry about me, really” you smiled, deciding to avoid as well the moment the two of you had just shared, and letting him know you appreciated his offering instead. “I’m almost done packing”.

“It’s already dark outside, though” he pointed out. “And, I mean, I can go drop you off if you want, but honestly, don’t feel like you need to leave when you’re not feeling your best”.

“Thank you” you smiled sweetly, standing up as well so you could close your luggage and take it off the bed, later slumping down on it and making yourself comfortable on the mattress you had once grown so used to. “I will leave first thing in the morning”.

“Okay” he smiled as well.

Although it was not late at all —at least not if he considered the time you used to go to bed when you lived with him—, he took your action of lying down on the bed as a sign of you wanting to go to sleep right away. So, taking that as his cue to leave, he turned around without another word to finally give you the space he thought you wanted.

Before he could even reach for the door, though, your rather shy voice caught his attention.

“Taehyung?”

“Mhm?” his eyes fixed on you.

“Can you…” you nervously bit down on your bottom lip, resting on your side as you faced him. “Would you stay here with me for a little longer?”

Taehyung stood by the door for a few seconds, not being able to stop himself from finding you adorable as hell right then. It was a bit ironic, how not long ago he found it annoying when you tried to spend time with him, yet now here you were asking for the same once again and he was so easily falling for it. And so, it didn’t take him long to nod his head and make his way back over you.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he fixed his eyes on your attentive ones, not being able to conceal his confused expression when you moved further away on the bed — only realising you had made some space for him to lie down on after you had patted the empty spot next to you.

Although a bit reluctant, he complied. Lying down next to you, he rested on his side as his cheek fell on the pillow so you would be face to face — once again falling into complete silence as your eyes met during way longer than what would be considered normal. Neither of you knowing when it was that silence between the two of you had stopped being awkward, tiring even, and became comfortable instead.

“You’re feeling better?” he asked in what felt more like a whisper, not being able to stop himself from removing a strand of hair that had fallen over one of your eyes after you nodded.

Smiling fondly at such a simple yet loving act of his, it was now you the one who couldn’t help herself — your hand going up to grab his as it was about to leave your face, and gently holding it in yours so you could give it a gentle squeeze as a sign of gratefulness. Taehyung took in a shaky breath at the unexpected contact, yet he did nothing to break it. If anything, he squeezed your hand right back, letting you know that, despite your many differences, he was there both with and for you.

“Sorry for bothering you again” you couldn’t help but apologize, for you had not forgotten you had once told him you would never again ask him to spend time with you.

Funnily enough, right then, to him, it felt far from annoying — lowkey wishing you had forgotten about that to begin with. It was a bit odd being like this with you, that was for sure, but this time he hadn’t minded at all having you ask him to spend a little more time with you. If anything, it felt nice. Being with you the way he was in that precise moment, felt really nice.

“My brother used to stay with me when I was feeling down and…”

Taehyung smiled softly. Who would’ve thought you could be this sweet without even trying. “It’s okay, you don’t need to give me explanations”.

Smiling at him, you unconsciously moved closer as you made yourself more comfortable in bed — his hand still in yours until you let go of it and mindlessly started tracing his fingers with yours, as you had suddenly become too nervous in his presence to keep holding eye contact.

“Thank you” you sincerely said after silence had taken over for a few seconds.

“What for?” he wondered.

“For everything” you explained. “For being here with me, for helping me out today, for letting me stay here with you even when you couldn’t stand me…” a light laugh escaped your mouth at your last mention. “For standing up for me earlier…”

“It was nothing” he reassured you.

“It was a lot to me” you smiled weakly. “Can I ask you something, though?”

“Sure”.

You bit down your bottom lip. “How much of it did you hear?”

Taehyung pouted in confusion, not being able to hide his rather taken aback expression. He should’ve known going out of his studio would throw him under the bus about having heard what was going on with you and your parents. Although any decent person would’ve gone to see what was going on after hearing people yelling in their living room, he thought.

Just a few keywords. That was all he had heard. However, they were all pretty compromising… at least the word ‘marriage’ particularly seemed like it, even more after Jimin had been brought up only minutes later in the conversation. And although he thought about mentioning it, for he wanted to know what the hell was going on for once and for all, he decided not to. You already seemed too exhausted that night; maybe some other time.

“Not much?” he bit his bottom lip. “Just your boyfriend being brought up every five seconds”.

“He’s not my boyfriend” you didn’t miss a beat to correct him, causing the corner of his lips to curve up in an amused smile.

“And something about Jimin and you…” he couldn’t help but add nevertheless.

The keyword ‘marriage’ had not been mentioned. Just your mutual friend. Yet it had made you take in a shaky breath and let out a heavy sigh.

Of course out of all the things your parents had said, he had heard that one particular part.

“You’re not telling me any of it, are you?” he lamented, your previous sigh and the way your body had tensed next to his being all he needed to reach said conclusion.

You sheepishly shook your head no. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now” your eyes focused on your hands, still playing with his long fingers. “And Jimin… if he hasn’t told you by now, then I believe you should ask him about it instead”.

“Ask him what?” his eyebrows knitted together.

You shrugged. “Whatever it is you’re trying to ask me”.

Taehyung sighed. He was dying to know everything you were keeping from him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could go without knowing the whole story. The annoying part was, that you and Jimin were the same — he wouldn’t give away information regarding you, and you wouldn’t give away information regarding him. It was as if you were each other’s partners in crime, and he had no idea if any of you would ever reach a common ground and give one another the green light to talk about it to him, or he would just have to wait until one of you slipped up.

“You will tell me everything at some point, right?” he tried to push it.

“We’ll see if you deserve it” you kept your answer on the mysterious side.

“I literally just stood up for you in front of your parents” he reminded you.

“Aren’t they lovely, by the way?” you joked.

Although he had laughed along with you at the way they were not lovely at all, a sigh was quick to abandon his mouth right after. “You’re such a brat”.

“That I am” you chuckled.

Taehyung couldn’t deny, though, that he now got where you and Jimin were coming from all along. It didn’t change the fact that, in his eyes, having a family was better than not having one. Nevertheless, yours was truly something else — a little over an hour having them at his, plus belittling him and his place when he had told them to calm down and leave, had been all he needed to find out why you didn’t want to meet up with them in the first place.

“You should embrace it then, princess”.

That made your head snap up, letting him know with your furrowed eyebrows that you did not get what he was talking about.

“Being a brat” he explained, being now him the one to mindlessly play with your fingers as he spoke.

“What?” you laughed lightly.

“I mean, brats get what they want, don’t they?” his words earned an immediate nod from you. “Then just… be that” he shrugged, drawing his eyes back up to yours. “Be an absolute brat and show your parents you can do with your life whatever you want, no matter what they say”.

Smiling at both his words and the way his eyes seemed so genuine right then, you were quick to nod as a small giggle escaped your mouth — not really giving it a second thought when you moved close enough to him to lightly press your head against his chest, and letting out a contented sigh when his thumb began to draw small circles on the back of your hand, giving you the last bit of reassurance for you to decide to go by his words.

Who would’ve thought the one to bring hope back to your life would be the very one who used to point out what a mess you were. Whatever it was that made him change his mind, you liked where you were at in whatever kind of relationship the two of you had right now.

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Note

I love your writing.

if it's not too much trouble may i make a request? I'm thinking the Dimitrescu women meeting and/or courting a fellow immortal.

the circumstances of the immortal's powers and possession of immorality are entirely up to you. I just like the idea of them meeting someone they could literally spend forever with...because they deserve it ❤

I wasn't sure if you wanted a story or headcanons? I went with HCs, here, but if you wanted more of a drabble or whatever just lemme know and I'll write something like that.

Also, I got excited and carried away so this has the whole Dimitrescu family, plus shorter ones for both Mother Miranda and Donna. Admittedly Alcina's is also a little on the shorter side? I tried to write everything that came to mind, but I am kinda tired right now, sorry. Might reblog this and add some more later.

(Under read-more for length)

Cassandra:

Tries (and fails) to hide her excitement. Mortality is one of the bigger things that has made her keep her distance to others, at least in the past. Every Maiden she’s ever been the slightest bit smitten with, up until this point, has been incredibly fragile. Seeing as she’s not exactly the softest person, one can easily imagine why that would be a turn off for her. But now that’s no longer a problem!

On the other had… having an immortal partner gives Cassandra pause. Why? Because what if they breakup? Normally, she can just, ahem, “dispose” of any exes (regardless of how much it hurts) so she doesn’t have to see them/deal with them anymore. If that’s not an option, she’ll definitely take longer than usual to do anything about her feelings. She wants to be sure, 100%, before she gets in over her head. Chances are she won’t hold back for as long as she wants though.

Likely to have a loud, messy confession. She’ll have been avoiding you for a few days, always ducking out of whatever rooms you enter, leaving you both hurt and confused. After enlisting the help of her sisters, you’ll be able to corner her outside. She’ll tell you, under no uncertain circumstances, to leave her alone. But you’ll refuse, demanding an explanation.

“I thought we had something. I thought you cared,” you’ll snap, eyes watering. “If that’s changed… if I was wrong, just tell me. I’ll leave and I’ll never come back.” Cue thunder and raining (because tropes) and Cassandra dramatically pulling you into a kiss, holding you so tightly you think you might bruise. Then she’s demanding that you stay, refusing to apologize but making it clear just how much she does care.

Being immortal, you’re not as defenseless as some of Cassandra’s past interests. Naturally, she doesn’t get quite as protective as she normally would. She’ll still have your back no matter what, ready to fight by your side against any foe, and will probably consider doing so a “fun bonding activity”. Oh, some lycans are encroaching on Dimitrescu territory? Time to go destroy them, as a power couple!

Despite having all the time in the world, Cassandra won’t change much of her actual courting behavior, nor the rate at which things advance. She’s still gonna get handsy fairly early on, still gonna “rah!” at you in the hallways, and still going to struggle with her jealousy.

Immortality Compatibility: I can see Cassandra going for another vampire (or vampire adjacent) creature, or someone demonic. She likes her lovers a bit rough, with some nice bite to their personalities. If you’ve got sharp teeth, or claws, or glowing eyes? Oh boy, she’s gonna be making heart eyes at you all the time.

Bela:

If your immortality isn’t immediately obvious, Bela is over the moon with joy when she finds out. Her eyes will go wide for a moment, before she tries to seem calm (so as to not freak you out), but her heart is pounding. This is what she’s been hoping for. As much as Mother Miranda has done for her family, there’s no guarantee that she’d be willing to give more. Even if Miranda granted Bela’s lover her “gift”, there was no telling what the results would be, or if the lover would survive. Now that there’s no need for such a transformation, it’s far easier for Bela to imagine herself in love (and eventually be in love).

Slow-burn romance over a decade or longer, oops. Doesn’t even necessarily mean to take things so slowly, just doesn’t feel a need to rush things, preferring that they develop organically. With both of you having unlimited time, you’re both used to working on a very large timescale. Maidens watching the two of you probably place bets on how long it’ll take you to hold hands for the first time. Everyone knows it’s coming, but no matter how much Cassandra and Daniela complain, Bela refuses to jump into things. By the time the two of you are officially together, you’re probably madly in love with each other.

More protective than Cassandra, if only because she knows just how rare you are. Immortal or not, you likely still have a weakness, and Bela will do everything in her power to make sure no one else knows what it is. If applicable, she will also ensure she has a countermeasure readily available. For example: If you were weak to fire, she’d make sure that the castle keeps extinguishers handy, just in case. Though they should probably already do that. Not that the Dimitrescu family cares much for OSHA compliance.

Somehow grows more in love with you with every passing year, and makes sure that you know this. Whether you’ve been together for one year or one century (because in this house we ignore canon), she’s always performing little acts of love, giving constant reminders of how strongly she feels. Gifts, special dates, book recommendations, etc.

Immortality Compatibility: Bela seems like the type to go for someone with a calming presence, and perhaps somewhat of a contrast to herself. I can picture her with someone somewhat angelic, or druidic, someone very in tune with nature. She’d love to feed deer with you and relax in the forest! Or lay against a tree by your side, listening to you talk about various microorganisms for hours at a time.

Daniela:

Practically tackles you when she finds out/connects the dots. This is just like one of her romance novels, where a lonely (attractive as fuck) immortal spends years in isolation before finally meeting the love of their life, who they get to spend the rest of eternity with. Absolutely ecstatic about the whole situation. Won’t stop kissing you and pulling you close, rambling about how great it’s gonna be to spend your lives together. Honestly? Kind of overwhelming. You might have to remind her a few times that you don’t have to rush into things, considering you have all the time in the world.

Introduces you to people as her “super cool/rad immortal life partner”. Genuinely cannot bring herself to not brag about you. If her sisters haven’t found someone like you yet, you can bet that Daniela will tease them about it all the time (much to their annoyance). If Momma Alcina doesn’t, though? Dani will keep her thoughts to herself, thank you very much (being grounded at her age does not impress the s/o).

Tries not to show it, but she’s actually very nervous. You’re immortal! You’ve probably seen a lot of shit (she certainly has)! Worries about keeping you interested in her, though she would never admit it. This tends to lead to her performing ridiculous acts to showcase her affection, regardless of the cost or, like, whether or not you’d even enjoy whatever she has planned. In order to counter her anxiety, you’ll want to reassure her whenever you can, and give her plenty of “I love you”s.

Strikes a decent balance between Cassandra’s nonchalant attitude and Bela’s protectiveness. Will defend you if you need it, playing up the romantic aspect, but also entirely willing to hide behind you in a scary situation.

Immortality Compatibility: Having probably read Twilight… Dani would date a werewolf, as long as they weren’t the smelly kind. Also interested in a sort of “magical”/elemental type, especially if their powers are influenced by emotions. In other words, if someone flirts with her in front of you, and your response is to subconsciously light your hands/the other person on fire? She thinks that’s hot, pun intended.

Alcina:

“Oh? Interesting,” she’d say, smiling softly (and trying to ignore the heat rushing to her face). Similarly to Cassandra, she’d try to play it off, not wanting to seem too excited. And, well, she’s not as excited as any of her daughters are. After all, she’s had more time than them to “get used” to the idea of outliving any potential romantic interests. So, she’s not exactly desperate for a relationship, even with someone she could spend an eternity with.

That being said, if she is romantically interested in them, she’s very relieved. Outliving a loved one can be incredibly traumatizing (fuck you c*pcom, you know what you did), and knowing that you’re safe (or at least safer than most) brings her no small amount of comfort.

Also, just glad to have another person close to her age around. Her daughters are somewhat stuck as young adults, and I imagine Alcina would want someone who gained immortality a little later in life, such as herself, as opposed to, ya know, reminding her of her children. That probably goes without saying. Hopefully.

More so than her daughters, Alcina would change her level of protectiveness depending on her s/o’s power level. If you’re a shapeshifter who can also turn into a big ass dragon? Then she’s not going to coddle you. If you’re immortal but still vulnerable, then she’s going to do her best to keep you safe, even going so far as to enlist the assistance of her daughters. “If you see a single Maiden growing mistletoe, or bringing some in from the village, let me know immediately,” or something like that, depending on your weakness.

Immortality Compatibility: Definitely would want someone in a situation similar to herself, having once been truly human, only to be “elevated” by something. Bonus points if you’re another disciple of Miranda, double bonus points if Miranda specifically “made” you to be Alcina’s boo/honey/darling/dear.

Bonus! Mother Miranda:

Oh god finally someone who won’t leave her (can’t leave her). No one can take you away from her, and that’s a relief that she’s been craving for over a century. Even if romance isn’t high on her priority list, she welcomes it with open arms, glad to have someone by her side through all of life’s chaos.

Admittedly slow to trust at first, probably just using you as a tool at first. But prove yourself enough, show that your devotion is more than just misdirected self-interest, and she’ll start to warm up to you. Forming a real relationship would likely take a couple decades, similar to with Bela. Once you are together, however, the two of you are inseparable in all matters.

You’d be her #1 follower, most trusted adviser, and the only person allowed to understand 100% of her thoughts and motives. While Miranda wouldn’t allow you to be seen as the same level as her (sorry), you’d still be a legend among the villagers. To them, you’re Mother Miranda’s champion, the epitome of a devoted follower that they all aspire to emulate. Not that they know the two of you are a couple, though.

Immortality Compatibility: No gimmicks, no cheap tricks, she wants (and respects) a fellow scientist, someone who clawed their way through adversity and forged themselves into something indestructible. Double the interest if you did so for a similar cause to her own, as she would appreciate your ability to relate to her suffering.

Bonus! Donna:

Someone to play with! FOREVER! No more losing people she cares about, no more accidentally breaking people, no more people scrambling to leave. Now that she has you, she can finally spend some quality time with another (living?) person. Honestly her dolls (or at least Angie) are just as excited as she is. Regardless of her relations with the other three Lords, Donna much prefers the company of a lover.

For real though she’s shy as hell and you might not even realize who’s pulling the strings until you’ve been in her house for over a year. She’d probably use her powers to trap you inside, at least at first, though they’d be nice hallucinations. You’d have to treat the dolls nicely, especially Angie, before she’d let you interact with her.

Eventually you’d be allowed to leave, and you’d be given a key to return whenever you wanted to. Assuming that you do, in fact, come back, the two of you would have a very, very slow romance, if only because of Donna’s anxiety. Hand holding makes both of your faces turn beet red, seriously.

Immortality Compatibility: *chanting* GHOST GIRLFRIEND GHOST GIRLFRIEND POLTERGEIST PARTNER POLTERGEIST PARTNER WOOHOO! Something with a flexible, only-sometimes-tangible form, who absolutely could have left at any time but didn’t because they wanted to stay.

#cassandra dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #mother miranda x reader #donna beneviento x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Casper McFadden

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Moving into a new home was never easy. Oftentimes, it meant packing up everything you owned, leaving a bunch of good memories behind, and traveling across the country to a new town where you’d have to make all new friends and renovate old fixtures.

- But there was something about your new house that made it both easier and harder to live in: the fact that it was haunted.

- Obviously your family didn’t find out about the ghosts until after they’d signed the papers and even if they were warned about it, they probably wouldn’t have believed the realtor, but none of that mattered now. Now you were stuck in a old house with a bunch of spirits, stuck until your parents save up enough money to move again.

- So what made the manor easier to live in, you may ask. Well, the fact that it came with a friend….

- You and Casper meet the day you move into the Whipstaff Manor. You’re wandering around, exploring the home and trying to figure out which room you want to live in, unaware that there’s a specter following you.

- The minute Casper sees you, he’s head over tail. You make his undead little heart race and have him second guessing his every action. Which is the main reason it makes him a while to formally introduce himself, he’s too scared that he’ll ruin his first impression.

- Sadly for him, his first impression still doesn’t go over well, regardless of how much he practiced.

- In his defense, it wasn’t anything that he did, it was more the fact that you were suddenly face to face with a phantom. Anyone would have freaked out in response to that, and they would have freaked out to any ghost as well; no matter how friendly.

- So, like the rational young woman that you are, you scream and take off like a rocket, dashing out of the room and down the hall to find a more secure and safe looking room to hide in until your parents get back from the store.

- He follows behind, attempting to calm you down and feeling downright awful for scaring you. Once you’ve locked yourself away into a broom closet, he gives you a minute to breathe before he calls out to you, telling you that he’s sorry and trying to coax you out so that you can talk.

- It takes you another minute to be convinced and to trust him when he says he isn’t gonna hurt you, but eventually, you do brace yourself and open the door.

- Once you do, you find that he really isn’t as scary as you’d originally though he was. In fact, he was actually sort of cute; in a cartoony sort of way, and he’s friendly to boot; so you wind up feeling a bit silly for being so frightened of him. And after you begin to think like that, the two of you begin to develop a close friendship.

- While his uncles might be incredibly obnoxious and annoying, you can’t deny that you enjoy having the ghostly presences in your home; especially when school roles around and you find yourself feeling like an alien with no one to turn to. You might not have any living friends in your town but you at least have a few see through ones at home that ensure you’re not completely alone.

- But, compared to your primarily platonic feelings, Caspers feelings for you were a lot more complicated. He valued your friendship and enjoyed having you as a pal, but he also had more romantic feelings towards you. In simpler terms: he’d had a massive crush on you from the moment you walked in.

- And though he’d have loved to confess his feelings and see if you felt the same, he knew that it was practically impossible for the two of you to be together; at least until you’d died …or until he was alive again!

- The minute he remembers the Lazurus he immediately erupts into a fit of excitement and joy. If you could get it to work, he could be alive again and the two of you could be together for the rest of your lives, either as friends or as something more, he honestly didn’t care which; though he hoped it was the second one.

- So he tells you about the invention and the two of you get to work. You take the wild trip down to his fathers lab, search around until you find what you’re looking for, load the contraption up with it’s necessary elixir, and pull the levers with bated breath.

- You don’t know what you’d expected to walk out of the machine but it certainly wasn’t this. Perfectly done blond hair, shining blue eyes, and a face that made you suddenly flustered to be in your best friends presence. He looked like a Disney prince and you were captivated.

“How do I look?” He asked nervously.

“Perfect,” you responded a little too quickly. “I mean, human, normal …living.”

- His face broke out into a smile and he threw his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. The action caught you off guard and made your heart race but you didn’t mind in the slightest.

- Once you’d finished hugging, he pulled away slowly and you found yourselves locking eyes. His gaze flickered to your lips and before you knew it, the two of you were leaning forward and sharing a kiss.

- His uncles may or may not have interrupted you but the “damage” was already done. You were just as hooked on him as he was on you and neither of you could be happier.

- Casper loves pda. He loves being able to actually touch you and be out in public and show the whole town that the two of you are together; even though half of them are confused as to who he is.

- He touches you and holds you close whenever he can. He’s waited to do it since the moment he met you and now that you’re together; and he isn’t ice cold and only semi-solid, he enjoys every little ounce of affection he can provide and obtain.

- Handholding.

- Cheek kisses.

- Long, soft kisses. They’re sort of a contrast to his usual hyper behavior, which is why, if you ever need him to calm him down and focus, all you have to do is ask for a kiss or make it obvious that that’s what you’re going to do. He skids to a stop and happily complies as he gives you an adorable little smile.

- Pet names aren’t really his thing but he does call you by fun nicknames that he’s come up with; usually a shorter or longer version of your name.

- Cuddling is a must with Casper. He absolutely loves it, no matter how the two of you do it. Sometimes you’ll lay on his chest, other times you’ll spoon, and other times you’ll face each other on the bed and talk until one of you dozes off.

- Speaking of: he definitely watches you sleep every now and again, which sounds far more creepy than it actually is. Like, you’ll be talking late at night and you’ll fall asleep and he’ll just look at your peaceful face for a while.

- If we’re going with the assumption that Casper maintains some of the aspects of being a ghost, I think it’s safe to say that he’s occasionally at least a little cooler than a normal human, which makes him the perfect companion for hot days.

- Being carried and flown around.

- Sometimes; especially prior to him being in the Lazurus, he forgets that you’re not a ghost and gets you into some uncomfortable situations. And after he turns human again, he definitely has to get used to not being able to go through walls and have things go through him when they’re thrown or fall.

- Testing out exactly what he’s still capable of doing and if there’s any limits to his new life. Is he perfectly normal? Does he have ghostly powers? Do the effects occasionally wear off during certain times or seasons? It’s all stuff you have to figure out.

- For a while after he’s brought back to life, he spends all day experiencing everything he missed when he was still alive. All the smells, sights, and touches; he runs around like Jack Skellington while you sit back and watch with a smile.

- Going to the mall. It’s one of his favorite places to visit, he just loves the entire atmosphere of the place; especially since he wasn’t really able to go and enjoy everything about it before he turned human again.

- Tv dates.

- Playing different games with each other. Board games, pirates, video games, you name it, he’ll do it.

- Sitting on top of the lighthouse with him.

- Enjoying the view from outside of the manor. You have the perfect view of the ocean from your garden so the two of you can always throw a blanket down and stare out at the sea together.

- Just goofing off with each other. Running around the house together, sliding down the stairwell, having him push you in a chair down the halls, etc. You’ve got a huge house to mess around in, why not take advantage of it?

- Dancing together. He told you he was a good dancer.

- Late night conversations. You can always talk to him about anything you want or need to.

- Catching him watching you a lot. He always has such a loving gaze when he’s looking at you, just seeing his face when he’s watching you do something or speak is reassurance that he really cares about you.

- Always having a warm and excited greeting when you return home from school. He also probably occasionally goes with you or at least walks you there or visits during lunch.

- He loves making surprises for you. Throwing you little parties or coming up with different ways to make you smile or cheer you up after school or whenever he can see that you’re feeling down is one of his favorite hobbies.

- He wants to be with you like 25/7 so don’t be surprised if he’s constantly bothering you with his presence. It’s a good thing you love him because if you didn’t he’d become very annoying, very quickly.

- Him just appearing at random is commonplace so your parents and you definitely have to take some time to get used to it. I mean he lives in your house and now that he’s human again, it’s definitely a bit easier than when he was a ghost, but still.

- Getting chairs pulled out and doors opened for you. He likes being a gentleman.

- Him cooking for you. He definitely tries to impress you with his skills and all the inventions he uses; and he just likes doing something nice like that for you.

- Discovering all his dads inventions and letting him tell you about them. It’s really quite fascinating to see how they all work and how excited he gets while showing you how to use them.

- I have a feeling that he doesn’t like winter; for obvious reasons, and whenever it comes around, all he wants to do is stay inside with you and do indoor activities. If you were to want to go out, it’d take you a while to persuade him and even if you did; or were only going out by yourself, he’d spend forever bundling you up and making up a bunch of rules to keep you safe.

- Probably dealing with his ghostly self every now and again. I have a feeling that the Lazurus machines effects occasionally wear off for a little while from time to time so while he’s alive most of the time, you do have moments of spooky transparency as well.

- Pranking each other and other people. He might be a sweetheart but he also has a bit of a mischievous streak.

- Him always wanting to show you whatever cool thing he sees, does, finds, or hears about. Just being able to share things with you makes him happy.

- Listening to his stories from when he was alive or the decades he wasn’t.

- Fixing up his room for him and hanging out up there with all his toys.

- Being gifted some of his mothers things. Dresses, jewelry, stuff like that.

- His uncles bothering the two of you. They’re constantly harassing and teasing you; just try to pay them no mind.

- Standing up for him when his uncles are being more awful than usual.

- He might be the only person you can really bond with in your town, considering the fact that whenever you have anybody over, they’re almost always harassed by his uncles and scared away. Which Casper may or may not be sort of happy about.

- Casper gets jealous pretty easily. Anytime another guy takes interest in you, he always feels the need to mock them behind their backs or be passive aggressively not so friendly whenever they approach you when you’re out with him. It’s best to not bring up guys in your class unless it’s obvious that they only like you as a friend; but even then he’d wonder why you need friends (even if they’re girls) other than him.

- He’s sort of overprotective of you. He just got his life back so he certainly doesn’t want anything bad happening and putting yours in danger.

- He absolutely hates fighting so whenever the two of you have an argument, he’s always quick to try and settle it and apologize; even if he doesn’t really think he’s done anything wrong.

- Saying “I love you” isn’t really his forte. He prefers saying and doing other things to show you that he does.

- The two of you sort of just have to go with the flow and see where your relationship takes you. You don’t know how exactly the rest of his “life” will go so you just try to enjoy the present and what you have right now.

#casper mcfadden imagine #casper mcfadden headcanon #casper mcfadden imagines #casper mcfadden headcanons #casper 1995 #casper imagine #casper imagines #casper headcanons #casper headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie imagines #90s movie headcanons #90s movie headcanon

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rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Home Schooling

Pairing: Stepdaddy!Meian x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, Pseudo-Cest, NSFW, Invasion of Privacy, Overbearing and Controlling Behavior, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Non-Con/Rape, Degradation, Overstimulation, Humiliation

Summary: Why would Meian let you go to college in Tokyo when he can teach you everything you need to know right here in Osaka?

A/N: Happy birthday @iwaasfairy ! Of course I need to dedicate my first ever Meian fic to you on this very special day~ I hope this fic manifests a real life DILF Meian for you!!!

Meian has always been protective, even before your mother’s untimely demise. You remember how uncomfortable you had been about this handsome man waltzing into your family home one day, acting like a father figure almost since day one. Only your love for your mother and your desire for her to find happiness again kept your mouth shut, although when she wasn’t in view, you not so subtly found ways to keep your contact with the older man as minimal as possible.

There’s nothing necessarily “wrong” with Meian. In all honesty, if he weren’t so overwhelmingly involved with your life, you’d even argue that he’s a great guy. You can tell he truly cares for your mom, maybe even loves her— although you gag at the cheeky winks and flirtatious touches they generously dote on each other in front of you. And you’re happy for her! You really are. It’s been a long time since you’ve been forced to rely only on yourselves, only on each other. You’ve seen how hard she’s tried, keeping a strong front whenever you’re around, working twice as hard as anyone else to try and fill the aching hole in both your hearts from the loss of your father. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s her.

But there’s something unnerving, even aggravating, about the way Meian interferes with every aspect of your life. You can’t help a strange foreboding feeling twisting inside of you as a heavy gaze trails after you wherever you go, as he begins to rope you into every conversation he has with your mother, almost demanding and insistent about not letting you withdraw to your room despite your well-meaning wishes to give them their privacy.

You try to be on your best behavior, not wanting to be the reason your mom’s new relationship is ruined, especially when you can see just how much she likes him. But every time he opens his mouth and questions everything you do, everything you wear, and everything you say, you can feel your temper rise, wondering where his audacity to act as a father figure comes from.

It’s easy enough to retreat to your room, closing your door and sighing in relief as you escape those sharp eyes. You find comfort in the fact that you have at least one safe place he can’t breach, finding false security in the hope that he’d never invade an adult woman’s bedroom. Except he does, and your heart drops when you notice the miniscule adjustments in your room — your underwear drawer slightly ajar with some pieces missing, your bedsheets slightly rumpled in a way you know you hadn’t left them this morning. Things you know you could never bring up to your mother without sounding like a madwoman. So without irrefutable proof, you keep quiet, knowing that at least there’s not much more time left before you can truly run away from all of this.

Being an adult comes with many responsibilities and adventures, and together, your mother and you pore over myriads of college pamphlets, debating which locations make the most sense, planning how you’re going to make the finances work, and thinking about which colleges have the courses best suited for you. It’s a fun and stressful rollercoaster, but you beam when your mother proudly ruffles your hair, when you both agree on you leaving Osaka behind and adventuring out, creating new memories and beginnings in a different city.

(“Plus, I’ll be able to visit you and play tourist”, your mom excitedly says, and you giggle, letting her affectionately hold you as you stare at the universities you’ve narrowed your choices down to.)

The future seems bright and exciting as you studiously sit down and scan over textbooks and practice exams, dutifully attending your tutoring sessions, cramming for the college entrance exam. It’s all going to plan, except Meian has different opinions. And this time, you can’t hold back the scowl when he yet again goes on and on about how he doesn’t understand why you can’t just stay in Osaka for college.

It’s not a new argument by any means. Just the same few questions being twisted and worded differently and tossed back in your face on a daily basis.

“Don’t you think your mom will be lonely if you move away and only come back for the holidays?”

“Isn’t that what you’re here for? To keep her company?”

“Don’t you feel bad about spending your mom’s carefully saved money on room and board when you could just continue living with us instead and just pay tuition?”

You silently thank your mom when she steps in, firmly telling Meian that she doesn’t mind, that this is exactly why she’s saved up.

But the arguments keep on coming, and you can feel the tension growing in your household, your own stomach churning with guilt and worry, wondering if you’ll end being the cause of their breakup after all as you constantly hear their raised voices going back and forth about you leaving or staying in Osaka.

So despite your discomfort and wariness towards Meian, you can’t help the relieved grin that stretches across your face when your mom comes squealing to you, flinging her arms around your body and shoving her gorgeous engagement ring in your face. You even muster up a slightly tight smile, that only feels a little forced, as you look to the tall man who leans in the doorway, muttering congratulations before directing your attention back to your mom, fondly smiling as she continues raving about her new piece of jewelry, ignoring the way Meian continues to loiter around the both of you.

Your mom is the most beautiful bride as she walks down the aisle and you stare in awe at how she glows, hoping one day you’ll look even remotely as mesmerizing as she does. And while you look on, star-eyed and in wonder, at the woman who had raised you, you miss the way dark eyes intently gaze at you, eyes that should be on the woman he’s about to publicly vow to be with his entire life.

Maybe if you had been more aware, more cautious, you wouldn’t have so eagerly waved both of them off on their honeymoon, wouldn’t have been so excited to shove your mom towards the airport, giving her one last hug and kiss before sillily demanding that she enjoy herself and have the best time of her life.

Maybe then your heart wouldn’t be shattered into a thousand tiny pieces as you collapse in Meian’s strong arms, sobbing uncontrollably and shaking your head in denial when he returns by himself and breaks the news of your mother’s passing.

You delay going to college in Tokyo for a year, allowing yourself time and space to grieve. Or so you had planned, but it seems that Meian has no intention of letting you have your privacy. You share the house with him after your mother’s funeral, unable to argue against him completely moving in when he now owns the property.

He’s still up to his usual overbearing ways, although his tone is softer as he treats you like a wounded animal, carefully handling you as he rouses you from your sleep in the mornings, startling you the first few times he sits on the edge of your bed and wakes you up by tenderly stroking your cheek, preparing all your meals for you and scolding you when he thinks you haven’t eaten enough. It’s almost frightening how easily you fall into his rhythm, not even flinching after a while when his large hand finds itself on your face, your shoulder, your back, your hand, your thigh. Tiny, seemingly platonic touches border the line of what’s appropriate for a guardian and their ward. Although, deep down, you know the two of you are diving in dangerous territory when you feel his knuckle brush against the swell of your ass briefly, his calloused fingertips quickly skimming your breasts, his palm squeezing just a tad too high up your thigh.

But you seek any remaining softness your mother had instilled in your heart for a man who’s lost his wife of just a few days, letting your new guardian (you don’t dare call him father) do as he pleases, not wanting to deal with any more conflict when your heart is still mending. And maybe, just maybe, you find some solace in his touches, in the love he forces upon you, seeking even just a hint of the parental affection your mother had bestowed upon you.

Time heals all wounds, or so they say. You can’t agree that it resolves everything, but you can admit that you’re feeling much better now that a year is almost up, ready to move on, live your life, and make your mother proud. You start re-looking into Tokyo housing, comparing the expenses of living off-campus versus living in the dorms, typing and reworking budgets over and over again in your Excel sheet until your eyes burn and you let out a huge yawn.

Coffee now. Budgets later.

You trudge to the kitchen, brewing a fresh pot of dark caffeinated liquid, letting out a pleased sound when the aroma fills the air, happily making your way back to your room to revisit some of your calculations, mug in hand. But you freeze when you see Meian sitting at your desk, clicking through the different tabs of apartment and dorm options you had been looking at, scrutinizing your planned expenses.

There’s no reason for the guilt that claws at your chest when you see the way his jaw clenches as he turns to look at you, hurt in his eyes as he silently demands an explanation for what he’s looking at. But it’s guilt that has you slamming down the mug on your desk and planting your firsts on your hips in a confrontational stance, that has defensive angry words spewing from your lips as you yell at him for invading your privacy, that has you storming towards him and trying to shove his much larger and stronger frame away from your computer.

But it’s futile and you gasp when you’re pulled into his lap, his hands easily pinning you to him and holding you still as he holds you in a mockery of an embrace, your back against his toned chest, his mouth right against your ear.

“You were just going to leave for Tokyo without telling me?”

You want to stay angry, want to continue twisting and fighting against his grip. But the vulnerability you hear in his words has you staying still, has you anxiously biting your lower lip as you try and find the right words to soothe the man clutching you.

“I- I didn’t think I needed to tell you anything. This was always the plan. You knew I only put off attending college for a year to take some time for myself. But I’ll come back and visit during the holidays-”

Your words are cut off by a pained gasp as thick arms tighten their hold on you, but the growled threat in your ear has your anger bubbling over, masking any other feeling.

“You’re not leaving.”

The matter of fact tone, the final decisiveness of the words, the way Meian leaves no room for discourse or arguments, has you lashing out at him and before you can second guess yourself, the position you’re in, or the difference in power between the two of you. In a matter of seconds, you’re snarling right back at him.

“You’re not my father! You can’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”

Righteous pride swells in your chest and you spare him a sharp, wicked grin, haughtily tilting your head up condescendingly, basking in the viciousness of your words. But what you aren’t expecting is the hearty laugh he responds with, something dark and gleeful swirling in his eyes as a cruel smile cuts across his face.

“You’re right. I’m not your father, not even your guardian. So this is fine, right?”

You scream as the arms still wrapped around you haul you up, your limbs thrashing and flailing as you try to force your way free from his iron grip to no avail. Fear and anger make you hysteric as you register the fact that you’re quickly approaching the room that once belonged to your mother, the room Meian now resides in. Disbelief and nausea overtake you when you’re assaulted by the familiar four walls as you’re haphazardly tossed onto the bed, sobbing as memories of your mother surround you and invade your thoughts while calloused hands easily tear your clothes off your body.

But you’re immediately silenced, sobs turning into choked whimpers as a large hand grabs the bottom half of your face, fingers digging into your cheeks, a palm suctioning your mouth shut.

“Where are all those manners your mother taught you? What would she think if she heard you throwing a temper tantrum like a child?”

The callousness of his words hits you like a ton of bricks. Meian smirks at the new round of fat, watery drops that stream down your face, mockingly cooing down at you, calling you a good girl, praising your newfound silence as his hand slowly drags down until it's wrapped around your neck, where he lightly squeezes, reveling in the adorable whimper you release.

But as pathetically amusing as you are, sniveling and choking under him, there’s more that he’s keen on seeing. You feel like a slab of meat under his observant gaze. Prized meat, but meat all the same as he runs his hands across your figure like a butcher testing the firmness of his livestock, pinching and prodding almost methodically, coldly. Only the amusement and hunger in his eyes are indicative of how much this is truly affecting him. Yet it’s tolerable, barely, if you just stare up at the ceiling, pretending you’re at an incredibly invasive medical exam.

He’d be offended by how hard you’re trying to ignore him if it weren’t for the telltale signs of your arousal that you desperately try to deny. He grins at how your nipples harden from just a few teasing circles, how your clit stands to attention, your pretty folds already beginning to glisten as he pets your velvety walls. You’re even more beautiful than he had imagined after watching you prance around the home in your skimpy loungewear. And suddenly, his pants are far too tight, cock straining uncomfortably against the fabric he’s quick to rip off. It’s music to his ears when you shakily say his name over and over again, as you try and resist the way he forces himself between your legs, hands spreading your thighs apart, toned body pinning you down, something hard nudging at your tight entrance.

“Meian, please. Please! Please, Meian.”

He ignores your tears, ignores the other words of resistance that slip past your mouth, head dipping down to your mouth and neck, kissing and marking every part of you he can reach, murmuring for you to call him by his first name. And when he loses patience with your whining, you finally acquiesce as he forcefully shoves himself balls deep inside you, a sneer ruining his handsome face as he lightly slaps your face in approval when you wail his first name, “Shugo” howled in an agonizing exclamation as you try to somehow dislodge him from ripping you in two.

“Look at that, the little slut can behave when she wants to. I bet your mother would be so proud.”

You hate how he drags your mom’s name in the ground as he defiles you, violates you in the bed they had once shared. You hate how his large frame feels crushing you, overpowering you, making you feel so incredibly helpless and weak. But mostly, you hate the slick lewd sounds your pussy makes as he pounds hard and fast into you, the undeniable proof that your body doesn’t hate this nearly as much as it should. Hot angry disgusted tears roll down your face as you glare up at him, desperately fighting back the rising moans threatening to humiliate you even more.

Your little defiant attitude is punished by Meian thrusting even harder into you, practically bending you in half as he pushes down on the back of your thighs, forcing you into a mating press. And he laughs at your wrecked face, hungrily taking in the way your eyes roll back in your head, the way your jaw drops wide open, your tongue and rivulets of drool trickling down your face, wanton moans loudly filling the room.

“For all your whining and complaining, you sure do look like you’re enjoying this, sweetheart.”

You wish you could deny his words, retort back with a scathing remark, do anything really. But when he reaches a hand between the two of you and rubs rapid circles against your erect clit, hips still pistoning against yours, cock stuffing you full, your mind blanks and an animal-like howl tears through the room as your body convulses, pussy walls clamping down and quivering as you cream all over the shaft still dragging against your sensitive walls, only heightening your peak.

Meian briefly wonders if this is what heaven feels like (or as close to heaven as someone like him is going to get) as he groans at the way your velvety walls milk his cock, gritting his teeth to not be dragged over the edge with you. He’s not delusional to think that any of this is right, the photo of his ex-wife, your mother silently watching you from the nightstand only emphasizing just how wrong this all is, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not when you’re a fucked out mess underneath him, so obediently and submissively slurring his name over and over again, drowning in pleasure and bliss.

There’s nothing more he wants than to just lose himself in the feeling of your tight walls, to fill you, mark you, claim you with his seed, but he’s not quite ready for a full house just yet. He has a few more years alone with you all planned out in his head before he breeds your pretty little womb. So just as his control teeters on the edge, he pulls out of you, casually sitting back and spreading his legs, slowly stroking his cock as he orders you to come and suck him off.

He’s almost proud of the little fight you still have left in you, lips quirking upwards at the way you try to ignore him, trying to look anywhere but at him. But his balls are almost painfully tight, his cock aching for release.

“Suck me off like a good girl or I’m going to cum inside of you over and over again until you’re knocked up. Bet your mother would have loved that for you. Her precious college-bound girl turned into a pregnant uneducated whore.”

It’s an empty threat, but you don’t ever need to know that, not when it has you obeying so well as he threads his fingers through your hair, groaning as your hot wet mouth sinks down on his cock still covered in your essence. All it takes is a few harsh shoves of your face, his hand pulling you up and down like a warm fleshlight, and as he finally reaches his end, he completely pulls you off, arching your neck back in a way that leaves your mouth open as he spurts thick white stripes all over your face and in your orifice.

You make to wipe your face, grateful at least that this is all over, but before you can move even an inch, you yelp as you’re shoved back down on your back, hands instinctively trying to push at broad shoulders as your legs are once again forced open. You’re a quick learner though, and with one dark warning look from the man whose face is now hovering over your spent hole, you instantly bring your hands down to your sides, clawing and fisting the ruined bed sheets instead as Meian ravenously licks and laps at your dripping cunt. The disgusting wet sounds echo in your ears as pleasure and shame swirl inside of you, a crescendo ascending too quickly, too high.

But your thrashing and blissed out pleas to stop, to let you rest, only serve to whet Meian’s appetite even more. Time becomes surreal and meaningless as you drown and float in a mixture of pain and pleasure, brought to climax over and over again until you feel boneless, your pussy and body ceaselessly twitching, mind broken beyond repair as you babble incoherently, unsure of anything except the lips and tongue at work between your thighs.

You cum one last time, body barely moving aside from a slight shudder, too worn out, too dazed to even comprehend the fact that Meian unravels himself from you, wiping his face of your arousal and taking a few swigs of water before making his way towards your desk and dialing the admissions office number he finds. And as the phone rings and he leans back in your chair, he adoringly gazes at the sinful display you make, looking like the epitome of debauchery as your body splays out, a stupid blissed out expression on your face, reeking of sex and sweat.

He strokes his cock as it rises back to life, raring to go again as he licks his lips, tasting your sweet juices on his tongue, never stopping even when a voice finally comes through the line. He only pauses slightly to bite back a laugh when something shatters in your pretty eyes, a sliver of realization piercing through your dazed look as you hone in on his conversation.

But you do nothing to stop him, unable to do anything but listlessly stare and watch as he cancels your enrollment in front of you, hangs up the phone, and casually makes his way back towards you as if he hadn’t ruined years of hard work and decimated your future plans in mere minutes.

“There’s no need to go all the way to Tokyo for education, sweetheart. Not when I can teach you everything you need to know right here. Now open up your mouth so we can get your first lesson started.”

#haikyuu smut #meian x reader #meian smut #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #yandere meian #tw: noncon #tw incest #tw: yandere #tw: rape #haikyuu x reader

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