#- so different. which sucks but is just the truth

[writememysticfalls]

Dive In | Stefan Salvatore

Summary: You're about to have sex with your boyfriend Stefan for the first time, but he can't get his ex-girlfriend out of his mind.

Pairing: Stefan Salvatore x reader

Genre: Suggestive, Shirtless!Stefan, angst

Word Count: 1k

Stefan followed you up the stairs to your bedroom.

You were going to have sex for the first time tonight. Stefan would be lying if he said he hadn't fantasised about it.

“So… your aunt’s at a conference. Your brother is at a friend's house,” Stefan said. “What's the catch?”

“No catch,” you said, shutting the door and grinning at him. “Just us.”

You sat on the bed facing your mirror, and kicked off your shoes. You pulled your vest top over your head.

Stefan lay back on the bed, resting on his elbows, admiring the way the light caught the little spots of brown in your hair.

“As soon as my clothes are off, I'm diving under the blanket, okay? God, this part’s always so awkward,” you said.

But Stefan wasn't listening. A shiver ran through him. Cold sweat pooled at the base of his spine. He had spotted a brown mole, right in the centre of your back. Katherine had a mole on her back, too.

Suddenly, it was 1864 again.

He heard the sputter of the gas lamp in the corner. Katherine swept her curls away from her back, revealing the mole he loved - and angry red bite marks on her neck.

Stefan leapt forward, touching the marks.

“I see you've noticed my battle scars. Your brother has quite a nasty mouth,” Katherine teased.

Stefan felt only horror as he remembered that vampires healed within minutes. Katherine must have come straight from his brother’s room.

“Stefan,” you said, straddling him, and playing with his hair. “You okay?”

He nodded quickly. “Fine. Sorry. You're beautiful.”

You smiled, but your eyes were serious. “You do… want to do this, right?”

Stefan nodded, plastering on a smile. How could he explain the truth - that he was disturbed by how much you reminded him of Katherine?

He had felt this way a few times before. He would notice something - the way your voice got higher when you were annoyed, or your smirk when you told an innuendo - and he would feel a slight shiver of deja vu. But it had never been this bad.

You bit your lip, looking down, your body leaning over his.

Stefan noticed that your dark eyes still had that shyness of adolescence, which Katherine’s had never had. You were nothing like Katherine. Slowly and gratefully, he kissed you.

You kissed him back, then kissed a trail down his jaw and to his neck. This time, when he shivered from your wet lips, it was a good feeling.

And then, like a red wave, the memories flooded back.

Katherine, her lips on his neck. Suddenly, sharp teeth as she bit down into his flesh, sucking his blood. At first, the sting was bearable, but then it became an ache, spreading through his neck and to his chest. He imagined bleeding to his death, right there in his bed. He felt his eyelids flutter, panic making him drowsy.

“No,” he mumbled. “It hurts…. It hurts…”

You frowned at him. “Stefan! Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, no…” he said.

Stefan was getting angry at himself. Why should his life be ruined by a crappy relationship 150 years ago? Immortals couldn't get PTSD, for god’s sake. Katherine was in his head, in his bed, just when he was trying to connect to you. It wasn't fair.

He would just have to push through the fear and get over it. The first step was to make the situation as different to 1864 as possible.

Stefan lifted you with one hand and manoeuvred you so his body was on top of yours, a position Katherine never allowed.

Already, the panic of a moment ago was fading like a distant nightmare. Screwing his eyes shut, he kissed you again, with a passion that would silence all of your worries.

In a few minutes, your naked bodies were rocking to an even rhythm. Stefan felt a sense of victory bubbling up in him like lava. This was almost over. He could master his trauma from Katherine. He could be your man, in every way you needed him to be.

Then, he heard himself moan, from deep in his throat. Strangely, that was what reminded him of 1864.

“I love it when you moan for me, Stefan” Katherine said. His back was pressed against his bedroom wall, and Katherine’s mouth was all over him. Katherine’s lips brushed his ear as she whispered, “I can tell that Damon is listening just through that wall.” Stefan tried to stifle the sounds coming from his mouth, panic filling him, but Katherine only laughed. “Don't be afraid, darling. He loves the shows we put on for him.”

Stefan opened his eyes, forcing himself to look at you and see your wide, youthful eyes, so different from Katherine’s. However, the flashback remained.

Gasping for breath, Stefan rolled away from you, curling up into a ball. He had failed. Katherine had got in his head, and he hadn't been able to stop her.

For a long time, you just lay there by him, slowly stroking his back.

Finally, you said, “It was Katherine, wasn't it?”

Stefan turned, stunned. “You knew?”

You shrugged. “I guessed.”

“Do you wish I was more like her?” you said quietly, and Stefan could hear that you had avoided asking this question for a long time.

Stefan turned to you and took in your beautiful eyes and thick, wet lashes. “No. I promise you, if there is one thing that can save me from the memory of Katherine, it's you, Y/n. You're kind, you're selfless, you would die for your family - you're everything she wasn’t.” Stefan smiled. “We just might have to take things slow for a while.”

You kissed Stefan’s hand. “You can tell me things, you know. I might be young, but I've lived through stuff too.”

Stefan smiled. “I know.”

​—

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

When Valentine Low broke the news of M bullying the Palace staffs, she immediately barked back saying this is a smear campaign against her. Now the Hollywood Reporter asked for their comments before they release their article and she had no comments on it.

So she's only brave enough to demean and thrash the UK staffs? Doesn't dare to say anything against their American staffs huh? Why does she do that RTA?

She can pass off bullying the Brits as xenophobia (they hate her because she’s a foreigner) and cultural differences. Remember, Meghan’s whole clapback to the British bullying allegations is that she’s a go-getter American and that work ethic contrasts with British work culture*. She can get away with that in the UK because she’s hedging her bets that the majority of people have never worked with Americans or know Americans personally and thus think she’s telling the truth.

*But even that’s not a solid defense for her. I’m reminded of a story - it’s either from Low or Bower, but maybe Spare? - where Meghan strolled into the KP offices late in the morning and announced that she brought bagels for breakfast. No one reacted and the staff felt it was actually tone-deaf of her to stroll in at 11 announcing breakfast when they’d been working for a few hours already. So right away, Meghan’s claims that she’s a go-getter American boss are debunked because no one who calls herself a go-getter is delaying her arrival to the office by 5-6 hours so she can do yoga and talk to her friends back home in California - as claimed in Finding Freedom.

She can’t do that here because we’ll call it out for the bullshit it is, because we all know better and we know the difference between the go-getter American boss babe Meghan wants us to think she is and the toxic narcissist boss dick she actually is. Meghan wants us to think she’s Miranda Priestly with the charm of Leslie Knope but she’s really just Mr. Burns dressed up as Jan Levinson.

For the record, American work ethic actually comes from the Puritans: it’s working hard all day every day to pull yourself up by the bootstraps but when the workday ends, the workday ends. It’s why we have shit maternity/parental leave and have practically no vacation time (compared to other countries) - because the Puritans sucked the fun out of everything and then when the class divide happened during the Industrial Revolution, the rich got richer, the poor got poorer, and everyone developed the mindset of “well, it was like that for me and I persevered so why should I make it better for you?” (Which, by the way, is 1-the main debate today over welfare programs and 2-why the ‘rags to riches’/Cinderella story works so well here, for any non-Americans here.)

Well, that was a very-so-far-off-the-road-we-can’t-see-it-anymore tangent.

Anyway. Getting back to the point. Which is that all the excuses Meghan gave to justify, or blame others for, her behavior in the UK doesn’t work here. She knows it and she’s stuck. That’s why she isn’t talking. Her whole game is over when the Americans start talking because while we don’t always get along, one of the very few things that all Americans agree on is bad bosses suck and rude celebrities that bully everyone are the worst.

Now, where’s my Swingline red stapler? And why couldn’t Dolly sing 10-3?

[kagoutiss]

*complaining for no reason again because i am bored* i need more ppl to know that these. are all the same person these are literally canonically all the exact same individual person im begging u

literally almost all the ganondorfs are the exact same individual and almost all the ganons are the exact same individual, almost all the ganondorfs & ganons are the same exact person just in different forms and circumstances. except for FSA and maybe whatever the fuck is going on with TotK ganondorf but i still think it’s weird that he still has golden eyes & rounded ears when even the gerudo in TotK’s ancient past dont, but anyway ashfjsbfjsn

[cluescorner]

Arlecchino's whole deal is unbelievable

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder what's causing my weird powers? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta become King and then kill my "Mother".

*Kills Clervie and "Mother"*

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I was able to defeat a Fatui Harbinger when I'm like 17 or so? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta be in jail and become a Harbinger.

*Is in jail for a while and becomes a Harbinger*

Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I am-

Pierro: Hey what's up hello, anyways you're descended from the Crimson Moon Dynasty of Khaenri'ah. I'm sure that this is a lot for you to take in so-

Arlecchino: Ok.

Pierro: ...You're just cool with that?

Arlecchino: IDK maybe? I can't really worry about that at the moment, I'm a father now. This orphanage full of children I love (who also are child soldiers and are not allowed to leave or else I'll execute them except maybe now I'm just gonna wipe their memories IDK I'm morally complex) isn't gonna run itself.

*Runs the orphanage/spy recruitment initiative*

Me, the fucking player: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE KHAENRI'AN? WHY WASN'T THIS BROUGHT UP IN YOUR FUCKING QUEST?? OR ANYTHING ELSE????

Arlecchino, talking to me through my phone: I honestly don't know why you care, I'm too busy to give a shit. Anyways, I'm gonna go fight fate itself I guess. I'm sure that I don't share any thematic parallels with any other Khaenri'an characters (particularly as it relates to acting and family angst) and that I haven't made the idea of 'curses' on Khaenri'ans and what they entail even more complicated than they already were. See ya.

[unchained-hound]

"Vivzie only donated 5000 dollars to Lackadaisy bc of PR! She's so fake lmao" Even if you believe the stupid baseless rumors that they badtalk other projects isn't it well known that Vivzie has been anticipating this project and has been good friends with the staff for years?

Even if she knew no one in it 5k+ as a PR when all you have to do to get good looks is say "I support this! lets all support this" is not the smoking gun you guys think it is. 5k for an indie project is insane money and Vivzie wins nothing by donating it that she couldn't get by simply tweeting.

Fuck man is almost like y'all demonized a rando so hard to the point where even saying "I like how this moves the indie animation sphere let me support it! Give it some love y'all" is proof she's evil is like, lol, lmao.

[orcelito]

Did the stuff exchange 👍 that sucked 👍 wahoo

[callixton]

just finished light from uncommon stars and loved it soo much. wonderful read to finish out the year. usually i am so easily swayed by other reviewers’ opinions but i just disagree with basically all of the bad things anyone has to say

[katya-goncharov]

honestly it's just really fucking unfair that i don't get to have friends or connect with people or even have normal aquaintances and i always feel awkward and like everyone is put off by me and everything that involves social interaction is 100 times more difficult for me than it is for anyone else

[peri]

one of the most frustrating things to hear when you're suicidal is "you don't really want to kill yourself." you have to be ready to hear that, and 99% of the time, you wont be. the truth of the statement comes in a way that people don't hear followed up as often (a shame), which is "- you just want a different life." you don't really want to kill yourself, you just want a different life.

i think that clicked with me, almost. i still wasn't ready to hear it, i rolled my eyes, but it made its home in my brain, for the moment i'd be ready.

it's 50/50, coz sometimes the things that make you wanna kill yourself are things that cannot be changed-- or at least, not changed easily. you have to jump that huge hurdle before something changes most of the time. break up with that abusive partner, move out of your parents' house, quit that job, drop out of college.

it didn't fully click for me until i woke up from my 3-day coma, after a suicide attempt. i felt what it was like to be dead, and i realized, hey, i don't want to do that. i want to live. i just needed things to be better. i haven't been suicidal since.

so maybe things suck a lot, maybe it'd be really, really hard to get to the point in life where you feel it's worth living. maybe it'd take moving out, maybe it'd take a near-death experience, maybe it'd take risking leaving that abusive partner. it's not easy no matter what you have to do.

but you don't really want to kill yourself, you just want a different life. remember: we love you, always have, always will. and if it helps; you will die naturally someday, why not fuck around til then?

[homunculus-argument]

Hey btw please don't make jokes about being a "boring adult" or how adulthood is boring when you're around small kids. They'll believe you, and growing up with the idea that their final destination is as bleak as it is inevitable is not a healthy way to live. Even if they don't know it consciously, whenever they look at adults they are looking at their future. Like even if your life does suck, please don't frame it as just an inevitable part of being an adult.

If you know someone's kid whose interests and tastes are loud, shiny, sparkly and all over the place, and you're absolutely overwhelmed by being suddenly rapidly infodumped about a cartoon you had not heard of 30 seconds ago and about everything they've been getting into, and you're caught off-guard by them suddenly switching gears and askining you why you're still into the same things as you were a year ago, that aren't even that loud, sparkly and fun, please don't say something like

"Well when you're a boring adult you start to like boring things like that and then like those forever :)" Like don't fucking say that, they'll believe you. It doesn't make them feel fun and special to be told you think you're boring in comparison. They take their spark for granted and being told that they'll lose it one day is awful. And it's not even true!

It's far more truthful to tell them about how when you've been a grownup for long enough, you've had to the time to try all of the things and you know for sure which ones you like the most. And that's why it's so important that they also try everything, at least once, so that they'll know for sure whether they will or won't like it. Being a grownup isn't about giving up doing new fun things, it's about finding all the things you like so much that you never get bored of them.

Boldly claiming that you've done everything when you're not very worldly might seem dishonest, but a four-year-old can't tell the difference between a century and a decade. As far as they are concerned, their nearest neighbourhood is the whole universe, and you have been alive forever. Don't tell them the world is boring, and that being bored of it is inevitable.

[katszumi]

silence immersed the room as the door clicked shut behind you. the ticking clock a reminder of how little time you have.

“you’re such an asshole, you know that?” you spewed to the male in front of you, your features displaying a look of anger.

katsuki rolled his eyes. “well, it’s not like i get called a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. what else did you honestly expect?” he crossed his arms over his chest, taking a seat atop of the long metal table.

“not much, yet you still seem to subceed my expectations.”

“subceed? seriously?” katsuki paused to let a scoff escape his lips. “you’re upset because i’m actually selling this story? the only one, might i add. this was your shitty grand idea!”

unknowingly, you took a step forward.

“the idea was to make it known we disliked each other. not for you to publicly shame and insult me!”

you, katsuki and a few other heroes were invited to attend a press conference. while the original topic was to discuss about the mission you all completed the day before, the topic began to stray away and focus on the relationship between you and katsuki.

japan knows of the hatred you and katsuki shared between each other, that was no unknown fact. the media described you two as fiery rivals considering both of your quirks contained fuel.

you two despised each other. or at least that’s the lie you fooled everyone with.

you were unsure when katsuki started to look appealing to the eye, how attractive he was when he was drowned in sweat, how you began to long for the small but noticeable glances he sent you in public. you couldn’t tell when it happened. but before you knew it, a small pool of desire that had katsuki’s name printed on it began to fill every minute of the day.

“which is no different than what we used to do. you want them to believe it? then don’t take my shit. suck it up and be a bigger asshole than i already am.” he was right. you know he was right. but it was so difficult to pretend as if you hated him.

even if you called him a bitch, or a cunt, maybe even call him out for having a small dick—which you know is far from the truth—that still wouldn’t deny the peace you felt whenever you were with katsuki. how the world seemed to stop still on its axis. how there were no rain, wind or time. just pure bliss.

fuck.

out of everyone, it just had to be him? his captivating, intense ruby irises. his brash, abrasive demeanor. only his words that could seem to sway you. the man the world deemed you to abhor.

instead of admitting the truth, you twist his words. “well, i’m pleased to know it’s so easy for you to do.”

“jesus fuck, y/n.” now, katsuki rose from his position, never once breaking eye contact with you. “you think this is easy for me? you think i like getting up there and lying through my teeth? doing this is the one of the hardest things i’ve ever done.”

he walks closer and even closer to you, minimizing the distance you established for good reasons. this is how it always happens; one of you forgets about the space you two have to maintain until words don’t seem to work anymore. instead, your lips weave together, forming a new way to communicate.

but you don’t move. you don’t want to.

“is it? all those insults feels like it comes pretty smooth to you.”

katsuki pauses as he takes a second to analyze you. his eyes scan your body then leading right up to your face.

“because those are the words i wish i could mean. every time, it burns me to say those things about you when i’d rather be up there claiming every single part about you.” he lowered to a whisper, but his voice maintained a fervent tone.

his hand raises, slow and steady. he cups your cheek, gently swiping his thumb across your cheek. instinctively, you lean into his palm, your eyes softening as you gaze into his eyes.

“you think i enjoy this?” you watch his jaw tighten, his hand dropping to your hip. “think i like watching you talk with those eager men? it takes everything in me to not beat them shitless for daring to come across you. do you know how hard it is to fight the urge to pull you in and show them that you’re not available?”

too captivated by his words, you didn’t notice how katsuki lowered his head. you could feel the heat of his body from how he gave you no room to breathe. he placed his lips on your soft skin, slowly kissing the side of your neck.

no. resist him. your mind was screaming. this couldn’t go on forever. at some point, you guys had to stop.

“what will make them back off? if i mark you up? think they’ll understand then?” he proposed the question, but to you, it seemed more like he was asking for permission.

you didn’t know what effect katsuki placed on you to have you like this. but in this moment, you didn’t care about the rumors, the consequences, your image. it was all pushed back in the back of your head. so, you slightly tilted your head upwards, giving him more leeway to continue.

katsuki gripped your hips. not too strong to leave a mark but strong enough to squeeze a small moan out of you.

“don’t you fuckin’ understand, y/n?” he leans away to look in your eye.

“what?” you meekly responded.

“i go insane when it comes to you. i’m not the kind of guy that drools over any woman’s attention. but, you… fuck.” he stops himself, from what you can only assume was to control himself with whatever he was about to say. “not being able to have you only makes me crave you more.”

you stay quiet.

“you know how many times i’ve tried to resist you?”

“how many?” finally, you spoke.

“too many fuckin’ times. i’m done fighting it, y/n.”

confusion struck your face. “what do you mean?”

“be mine. forget the press, forget our pr managers. be with me.” katsuki brings you closer with the hand placed on your hip, the action drawing you to one conclusion.

he leans in and interlocks his lips with yours. immediately, you drown in the feeling of his soft but chapped lips that you couldn’t seem to push away. somehow, you find the strength to pull back from him.

“not here. not in pub-”

“yes here.”

with his tone, you could mistake him to be aggressive in this moment. but over the months, you managed to be able to read his eyes from the forbidden glances he’s sent your way; how he really felt through the way he wore his eyes.

katsuki’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his soft ruby eyes shifted from your lips to your e/c irises.

there was a look behind his eyes. there were more watchful, more tender than usual. almost as if he was pleading with his eyes. like he was begging.

so, how could you say no to him in this state? him being so vulnerable with you?

but that was always the problem.

you could never say no to katsuki bakugou, no matter what.

your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him in with your eyes. he inclined his head and laid his lips on your mouth. the silence that did wrap the room ten minutes ago was replaced with the noise of sloppy kisses, your mouths powering over each other.

you can feel your heart rate increase from the action, even more noticeably so when he entangles a fist in the back of your shirt. he needs you closer, maybe within his skin if possible.

following his action, you guide your fingers through his ash blonde strands, sending a shiver down his spine. he nibbles on the bottom of your lip, pulling it just slightly.

“we really shouldn’t be doing this.” your murmur, yet his ears catches it. “this would be the hottest topic for the media.”

a snicker parted his lips. “we just can’t be caught. but the day you stop being scared, i’m ready.” his words vague and simple, yet still holding so much promise.

“i hate you.”

and you did. you hated that he was too enticing. too irresistible.

“thought it was hard for you to say things you don’t mean?” he referred from earlier. of course, that was just like him. the same him you mistakenly fell for.

“just shut up.” was all you replied with before leaning back in to connect his lips with yours, choosing to help him with your statement.

this was supposed to be like a forbidden love trope but i think i just revealed how thirsty i am😔

[0310s]

perv!leehan who can’t stop staring at his gf’s boobs 😵‍💫 i feel like he would start bouncing his leg just to try and focus and avoid getting a hard on

members: leehan x gender neutral reader

genre: smut, but intimacy also i promise!!!!

tags: dry humping, breast/nipple play

wc: 2.0k

a/n: anon just know i decided to pull an all-nighter to write this because i couldn't get it out of my head... thank you for this amazing idea.

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

During the start of your relationship when you’re still not intimate, Leehan decides to go at your pace; whatever you’re comfortable with dictates how everything else will go. Still, perv!Leehan is easily turned on by you—specifically, your boobs.

Leehan legitimately can’t stop staring at them and it’s becoming a problem, because you never wear a bra around him when he visits you in your apartment! The first time he comes over, he notices something is different about you—then he notices the natural curves of your breasts and wonders about how it would feel like to cup them in his palms. When it’s cold and your nipples poke out from your shirt, Leehan’s mind goes haywire and he can’t stop thinking about taking them into his lips. When you’re cuddled up with Leehan innocently on your bed, Leehan can feel how soft your chest is pressed up against his and has to awkwardly turn his body to the side so you don’t feel his growing hard-on. 

One time, when you’re wearing a loose, oversized shirt and lean over him to get something across him, he accidentally gets a peek of your bare chest. It’s only a second, but the flash of round flesh and nipple he sees is imprinted into his mind. He’s incredibly turned on yet immensely guilty. He has nothing to cover his crotch, so he ends up bouncing his leg so hard to will his hard-on away that you have to ask him if he’s alright. He says he is. You won’t know he’ll end up jerking off every night to thoughts of that memory, whether that be by furiously fucking his fist or humping his pillow. 

Another time you accidentally brush up against his arm and you squeak, and Leehan is immediately concerned, asking you what’s wrong. Upon more prodding on his end you shyly confess your nipples are sensitive, which sends Leehan down a deeper rabbithole of fantasies about teasing and pinching and and sucking and pulling at your nipples until you’re crying. But the last thing Leehan wants is for you to not feel comfortable and safe in your own body around him, so he gently says it’s alright and that he’ll be more careful next time, not dwelling too much on the topic so you aren’t put on the spot.

Still, you eventually notice Leehan’s staring as it grows more and more frequent and blatant (even if he thinks he’s being subtle about it). So one day in your apartment, when you spot him gazing at your clothed chest with an unreadable expression, you cover your chest with your hands in self-consciousness. Leehan shamefully realizes he’s been caught, so he rushes to beg for your forgiveness with red cheeks—but his heart breaks when you apologize first. “Is there something wrong with my … chest?” you ask, turning away to hide your chest. “You keep staring at them that I’m worried you think they look… weird. I know they’re not perfect or anything… I’m sorry.” And when he hears a sniffle come from you, he feels like the worst boyfriend to exist. 

“No, no, love, I’m sorry, I promise it’s not that,” Leehan pleads. Still, you don’t look back. You’re hunched over, rubbing at your eyes while the sniffles continue.  “Please… Can you look at me?” You slowly shake your head. Leehan, not wanting the misunderstanding to hurt you even more, takes ahold of your shoulders and gently turns you to face him. “I’m sorry my staring made you uncomfortable, but what you said is so far from the truth. To be honest…” When you look up at him with teary eyes, Leehan knows he has to tell you the truth, even if it’ll mortify him, so he tells you how much your boobs turn him on that he can’t stop looking. His face grows even redder in the wake of his confession and your silence. He’s ready to apologize again and give you space when you let out an “Oh! Oh. Ohhh….” And you end up being extremely shy around each other for the rest of the day. 

The first time you let Leehan touch your chest is in the heat of you making out. You’re in Leehan’s lap on your couch and he’s kissing you so sensually you’re becoming lightheaded with pleasure. He’s got one strong arm around your waist, and the other cups your cheek. When he lets go of your face, his hand accidentally brushes against your chest. Leehan’s quick to say sorry and is about to move his hand away, but you clutch his hand in time. You shyly ask him if he wants to touch—while Leehan is so turned on by the thought, he asks you multiple times if it’s something you want and if you’re sure about taking this next step. You admit that ever since the day Leehan told you the truth, you’ve been thinking about it. Extensively. 

You lead his hand to touch you; he cups at one clothed breast experimentally, feeling the weight and shape in his hand. You sigh and lean into his touch, and it gives him more courage to explore. He squeezes your chest and you moan, he slowly circles a nipple with a fingernail and you whimper, involuntarily pressing your pussy down on his dick. Leehan can’t believe he’s really touching your boobs, something he’s fantasized about for months on end. As he fondles you, you both desperately grind against each other, and when Leehan firmly sucks at your nipple through your shirt, you gasp in pleasure at how warm his tongue feels against you, even with a layer of cloth obstructing him from your bare skin. The contact is intense and overwhelming to you and you orgasm, Leehan following not long after.

After several repeats of clothed stimulation across weeks, you grow to become more comfortable in your own body. Soon enough, you find the courage to take your top off in the middle of a makeout session with your boyfriend. When you’re free of your shirt, your first instinct is to cover yourself, but you’re unable to when you catch Leehan’s honest reaction. Your tits are face-to-face with Leehan as you kneel on the couch, your thighs on the sides of his own. Your boyfriend’s staring at you with his mouth agape. Your eyes follow his pretty throat bobbing up and down as his stare trails down to your bare chest. Leehan’s silent for a moment as he takes in your soft flesh, memorizing your lovely curves, but eventually breaks the silence by letting out a deep exhale. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, “so pretty for me.” 

Your cheeks heat up at his sweet but erotic words, then embarrassment hits you as you register the implications of taking off your shirt so abruptly. You’re about to retreat into your shell of shyness and insecurity, but Leehan holds your wrists firmly, still loose enough so you can break out of his grip if you wished to. “Let me look at you properly, okay?” Leehan glances up at you, waiting for your answer.

You nod once. At your signal, Leehan trails a finger down the side of one breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Gorgeous,” he sighs dreamily, “How could you think I wouldn’t find you perfect as you are?” Your boyfriend’s words serve to bolster your confidence as you lean into his touch. Leehan smiles at this, cupping both breasts with his palms, giving you a light squeeze and eyeing your reaction. You melt into his hold. 

“More?” You nod again, and he acquiesces. Leehan lightly brushes his pointer finger over a nipple and you gasp at the direct contact. He traces a circle around your slowly stiffening peak, doing the same to its pair and humming in satisfaction when they’re both hard. “Tell me if this is too much, okay?” Monitoring your reaction, he takes one pebbled nipple between his fingers, rolling it gently, then administering the same treatment to the other. They’re indeed sensitive. You let out a high-pitched moan and clap a hand over your mouth in mortification, but Leehan pushes your hand back down. “Don’t hold back… I want to hear your moans when I take care of you like this. Don’t be ashamed—you sound pretty.” 

Leehan then uses both hands to tug at your nipples, and you unabashedly whine at the pressure, clutching at his shoulders for support. You squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction—you can feel how wet you already are, your underwear uncomfortably clinging to your folds. At this, Leehan grinds his crotch up into you to remind you he’s perfectly available for your pleasure. You stop kneeling up and drop your hips to grind into Leehan’s cock, and you both moan at the contact. To your surprise, he’s rock-hard… all he’s been doing is touching your chest and he’s already this…?

You must have said that out loud, because Leehan lets out a tiny huff of disbelief. “What do you mean? This is everything I’ve been dreaming about for months, of course I’m turned on.” (The thought that you occupy your boyfriend’s fantasies makes you feel faint.) He gives your nipples another firm twist, and a helpless keen comes out of your mouth. Leehan lets go and observes his work proudly—your nipples are hard and reddened. Still, it’s not enough for you, and you grind your pussy down harder so your boyfriend gets the message. “Can I…?” You thrust your chest into Leehan’s face. “Okay, okay, I get it.” 

Almost instantly, Leehan takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking slowly. When you tangle a hand in his hair and angle his head closer, he increases the pressure ever so slightly. The firm suction on your nipple feels heavenly, paired with how he lightly teases at your other one with a thumb, while the rest of his hand cradles your ribs. Leehan draws a sob from you as he tongues at your peak, circling it lazily. Looking straight into your eyes, he presses open-mouthed kisses to your puffy nipple, blowing air on it, and you squeal at the sensation. To relieve some of the frustration, you roll your hips insistently against Leehan’s, earning a muffled groan from him and sending a vibration of pleasure through you. He must feel your wetness through your shorts, because the hand on your side tightens minutely and presses you down onto his lap. 

When your grip on his hair increases, Leehan turns to your unattended nipple, giving it the same attention as he laves over it sensually. At this point, both of you are rocking frantically against each other, searching for release. The friction is driving you crazy. You greedily wish you had Leehan’s cock deep inside you—you can already imagine the stretch with how long and thick it is from your ceaseless grinding. And when Leehan’s teeth slightly graze your nipple, you let out a loud cry, your orgasm taking you by surprise, washing over you as you grind down once more. Then Leehan freezes, letting out a ragged moan as his hips jerk up harshly once, twice, until he relaxes.

It takes you a minute or two to recover your breath when you realize Leehan probably hasn’t come yet. “Do you need help with—?” When Leehan shakes his head no, you look at him questioningly. Weren’t you on the same page with all this? 

Still, Leehan’s response is one you didn’t expect. “Um, I already came,” he says sheepishly. When you tilt your head down, you’re greeted with a sizeable mess at the front of his pants. “Didn’t take much for it to happen… this was too hot.”

“Well. It was. Is. Hot,” you admit, your chest heaving from exertion. “Um. You’re hot.” Could you be any less awkward?

“Oh! You too,” Leehan giggles, sending you one of his signature crescent-eye smiles. Your eyes follow his as they trail down from your face to your chest, which makes you realize you’re still—ashamedly—topless. 

“Oh my god!” You rush to shield your chest from view, but Leehan beats you to it, nuzzling his face into the valley of your breasts and inhaling deeply. “Don’t do that, I’m all sweaty…”

“Smells good. Smells like you,” Leehan’s reply is muffled by your chest. He leaves a soft kiss on your sternum and your heart flutters at this display of affection. “You have nothing to be worried about.” You know he means more than just the sex, and for this, you’re infinitely grateful. 

[lumsel]

I don't strictly "like" taking ADHD meds, the comedown is awful and they play havoc on my appetite. But I kinda need them. I write software for a living. Software requires a great deal of focus that I simply cannot muster up off my meds. If I didn't have my meds, I would lose my job.

Part of this can be blamed on the cruelties of our modern capitalistic system. If the world understood my condition better, maybe I would not need to take stimulants to survive. I read an article once that really went all in on the idea that ADHD's negative perception is a symptom of perception, not an objective truth. Maybe people with ADHD are just as capable, but they do things in a different way to neurotypicals. Maybe all we need is better support, and social solutions, and more understanding of the different way that ADHDers think.

Which is all very compelling. Except.

I often find myself procrastinating activities that I want to do. My apartment has been accumulating dust because I keep forgetting to vacuum. One time I let the dishes in my sink stack too high and it was months before I could get myself to clean the mould off them. The demands of capitalism mean I need to software to pay rent, but sometimes I just want to do software, and no amount of narrative reframing or social support will clear the noise in my head long enough to let me focus on the code.

The notion that ADHD isn't a deficiency, just a different way of thinking, is something I find condescending. The implication here is I shouldn't have to write software, I should be given a different job, and I shouldn't have to maintain my own apartment, I should have the support of my community coming into my room and cleaning my things. But what if I want to do those things? What if I like software, or the privacy of an atomised existence? Maybe society has no right to decide what the correct way to live my life is, but surely I do!

The reason it sucks that it's hard for me to keep my dishes clean is not because the world says so, it is because I say so. It is because sometimes I want to be able to remember to do things and it sucks that I cannot live my life in the way that I want.

[jiminscockr1ng]

✩｡°𝄞📹 COVERGIRL 𝄞°✨｡✩

╝ one-shot ╔

╰₊ 𓂂➢ pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

╰₊ 𓂂➢ genre: idol x model au, smut

╰₊ 𓂂➢ warn!ngs: unprotected sex, cumming inside, back shots, orgasm denial (kind of), oral !female receiving, slight pain (in beginning), big dick!jungkook, (let me know if there’s more please!)

╰₊ 𓂂➢ summary: you are the cover girl for jungkook’s upcoming clothing line, JJK. said man, just can’t keep his eyes off of you as you model his designs.

╰₊ 𓂂➢ word count: 3.7k

You almost break your fucking neck trying to pose in the six inch pumps you have on—

in front of all of these cameras, in front of all of these people, in front of him. But of course, like the boss ass, talented, flawless model you are, you stay on your ten toes. Falling into another pristine pose matter of fact.

The photographers take their photos of you and the staff on the sides of the room doesn’t shy away from shouting praises at you. You slickly slide your hands into the back pockets of the denim miniskirt that barely covered the curve of your round ass. Back facing the camera, as you turned your upper body to eye it.

A large quantity of “ooh’s” and “aah’s” echoes through the brightly lit room once everyone gets a glimpse of your immaculate figure.

Your eyes couldn’t help but fall on the built individual standing low-key in the corner. He’s been eying you for the past half hour since you stepped out of the dressing room with this outfit. Truth be told, this man has been staring you down since you took his place in front of the cameras. He’s only now mentally undressing you. (not that your current outfit left much to the imagination).

You’re sporting a black tie that hangs over the skimpy white laced bra that’s clutched your chest, hanging on for dear life. On your feet are a pair of plain black pumps and of course— the main piece.

That denim miniskirt you’re wearing. ‘JJK’ initials embroidered on the back pockets, the sides are laced together with black ribbon, and it’s just long enough to walk in— short enough to the point you’d be flashing someone if you bent over the slightest bit.

If he could suck his own dick for making such a masterpiece, he would. But Jungkook would much rather you do it instead, because damn… did you look absolutely heaven sent. ‘Second to none,’ he thought as he watched you from the corner of the room.

Jungkook knew that choosing you as the covergirl for his new line was the perfect idea. He fought for it, fought for you. Having a black woman as the cover model of the Jeon Jungkook’s brand new fashion line wasn’t something the board wanted to approve.

Other than the fact you are black, you’re a fairly new up and coming model, leaving you very little experience. Jungkook discovered your instagram account just a few months before he completed his line. At first glance he knew you were something special. Different from all of the slim, long legged, fair skinned Korean women his team had continuously suggested. There was absolutely nothing wrong with those women— at all.

But Jungkook was looking for something else, something new, fresh, something natural. As an idol, he naturally falls into a clean, pure and innocent category. Despite being a grown ass man. Jungkook desperately is clawing to get out of that box. He wanted to prove it and expose the mature side of him through this fashion line. So no, Jungkook didn’t want a put together woman, or a pretty princess, or even a grunge queen. He wanted a natural sex symbol.

The perfectionist that Jungkook is, he never fails to second guess all of his actions and choices. But you, no— he knew that he needed you.

Needed you to wear his designs, needed you to be his covergirl, needed you all up in his face… amongst other things.

To which you were more than excited to do. Like, be serious! It’s Jeon Jungkook. The man with the mouth watering sleeve of tattoos, toe curling wavy mullet, the gut turning physique.

When his team reached out to you, you were more than ecstatic. You wondered how god had seemingly blessed you with the opportunity to model for the a-list idol.

You’re a huge fan of Jungkook’s music, listening to his panty dropping vocals daily. So the fact that you’re actually modeling for him and the fact that he’s currently staring you down like he wants you to be his last meal has you shaking in your six inch pumps. The unwavering tension between the two of you goes unnoticed by the others in the room.

But the way your smooth brown thighs clenches together definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook… neither does the way Jungkook is holding that clip board over his crotch go unnoticed for you.

Shit. You desperately needed for someone to just—

“That’s a wrap!” You hear someone yell and you let out a sigh of relief. Quickly bowing and spreading “thank you’s” to the staff that approached to compliment you.

You make your way back into your dressing room in the back of the studio. First thing you do is take off the tight tie around your neck, then the pumps off of your feet, exhaling in relief when your feet meet the ground.

There’s still an uncomfortable feeling in between the thick of your thighs. Damn, he really got you all worked up… more than you had realized it seems. You slip the soaked laced thong that matches your white laced bra down your legs and it gets flung into the waste bin. Leaving you naked under the famous miniskirt you still have on.

You distract yourself with the gorgeous sight you see in the mirror, then a light knocking hits your door. Before you could even say “come in,” in walks the finest man you have ever laid eyes on… and the reason why your favorite laced thong is in the trash.

“Hey,” he whispers to which you slightly raise a brow. Because yes, he’s fine as hell but at the same time, who told him he could enter? “Sorry for barging in. I didn’t want anyone to see me near your dressing room.” You nod your head understandingly. That would be a nightmare if anyone saw the two of you interacting and decided to go yapping about it.

Which is why this just so happens to be you and Jungkook’s first interaction. How low of you to get turned on before a proper conversation.

“Then again, I couldn’t leave without speaking to you first.” He smiled softly at you, part of his cute bunny toothed smile beamed in your eyes and the butterflies in your stomach start doing flips.

You return the smile. “Yeah, I guess that would be a bit odd. Ya know, since I’m your covergirl or whatever.” He’s intrigued by your wording. Of course, you are his cover girl, Jungkook knows that. But the way you said it just now sounded so fucking sexy to Jungkook.

“My covergirl?” He sing as he leans his shoulder on the wall. Nodding your head, butt pressed against the vanity behind you— confidently. Because the sexual tension between the two of you couldn’t even be cut by a knife. “Yeah, that’s usually what people call it. I think it’s funny how this is my first time speaking to my employer. Scared of me?” You test. Jungkook’s eyebrows flick up at your ‘sass’.

“Your employer?” You actually let out a little chuckle this time. “Are you gonna keep repeating everything I say?” You sarcastically ask before slickly eying him up and down. The white, short sleeved crew neck he has clinging onto all of his muscles and the exposure of his tatted right arm has tears rolling down your thighs. And the black cargo pants that are swallowing his tiny waste makes you bite your bottom lip. But we must stay focused!

“No, just a little intrigued.” He says, pushing himself off of the wall. “And no. I’m not scared of you. Just figured I’d keep my distance.” He trails off his sentence as you boost yourself up to sit on the white vanity behind you. The miniskirt rides up your thighs even more (if that’s even possible), your thighs press against the vanity top makes them look even more attractive and edible to the man standing in front of you— he almost forgets why he came in here in the first place.

“Why’d you figure that?” You tilt your head to the side innocently. But absolutely nothing is innocent about it. You are purposely teasing him— in attempts to seduce him. See if the good boy, ‘youngest’ is as good as people say he is.

Ask and you shall receive, because Jungkook is once again picturing you without that skimpy laced bra and with your legs wide open. The thought has him hard as a rock underneath his baggy cargo pants.

“Wanted to keep things professional.” He forces out. The underlying message doesn’t go over your head but you choose to ignore it. “So what are you doing here now?” With that, Jungkook lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Stepping away from the wall, he makes his way closer to the large white vanity you’re sitting on.

“I just wanted to compliment you on the amazing performance you did today. Everything went smoothly and it’s been a great week.” He says genuinely and you gladly take the compliment, letting out a small “thank you”— to which he battles.

“No, thank you. You really made this whole thing come to life so really, thank you.” You smile from ear to ear at his sincerity, feeling overwhelmingly gratified and proud… and still wet.

“Well your designs are amazing so you should have majority of the credit— by the way, can I keep this!” Asking, pointing to the miniskirt that hugs your hips. Jungkook’s tongue slides out of his mouth, wetting his lips, slightly playing with his lip ring.

“Of course, it’s all yours. Can’t think of anyone who’d wear it better than you do anyways.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He didn’t even mean to flirt he just said what he was thinking and it remains true. You are the sexiest woman Jungkook has laid eyes on. And if he doesn’t get out of this dressing room right now, his balls might explode.

But in the midst of the internal war Jungkook’s facing, you hum. “Is that why you kept staring at me all day? At first I thought you regretted your decision.” You say and before you could continue your overly sarcastic remarks he interrupts with the rapid shaking of his head.

“I could never regret choosing you.” Your heart dropped to your ass at his words and you’re scared if you move the wrong way the arousal between your thighs (that has been lathered onto the vanity) may drip onto the floor. Without saying much else, he doesn’t let his nerves stop him from stepping closer to you— nearly in between your legs.

He places his hand beside yours that rests on top of the vanity. Slowly his hand intertwines with yours. His touch so soft; the hair on your neck stands tall. His eyes glazing over your plumped lips, layered in lip gloss that shined under the light

“You’re perfect,” is the last thing he says before his lips slowly meet yours.

You could hear angles singing from close range as you finally snag the taste of his lips. His lip ring tickles your lip, sending a shiver down your spine. A soft moan escapes your mouth and Jungkook feels like he just won the lottery.

His tatted hand glides up your thigh, basking in the feeling of your soft brown skin under his touch. He gently caress your naked thighs, spreading them apart to properly stand in between them.

You let out a little huff as you feel him licking and leaving open mouth kisses against your jawline. “From the first moment I laid eyes on you,” he says in between kisses and you feel his breath on your neck, making your clit pulse. “I knew you were perfect.”

You pull your lips away to look at him. The heavy breathing fills the dressing room as the two of you look into each other’s eyes, the similar look of need in both of your eyes.

You slide your hands up Jungkook’s torso, to his broad shoulders, resting them on his neck. Pulling him down closer to you, you say, “Touch me.”

Which was all Jungkook needed to hear before attacking your lips again, your hand wrapped around his shoulders as you slightly grind into his clothed member. You could feel the bulge through his pants, exciting you even more.

“Oh my god— Jungkook.” You whine when he bites at your neck. His hands move to your chest, caressing your boobs through the fabric of the bra you still had on. Until he unfastens it, sliding the bra down your arms with your help.

His hands worry themselves with the feel of your tits again fitting perfectly under his hold. You bite your bottom lip to hold back the moans from the sensitivity of his fingers pinching your nipples. Within seconds his hands are replaced with his mouth and he sucks and nibbles on your nipples.

Your hips grind faster against his hard-on. “Jungkook, I need you.” You whimper impatiently. He removes his mouth from your chest, giving you a quick peck on the lips before smirking down at you which takes you for a whirl. Taking a step back he looks down in between the close proximity of you two.

He spreads your thighs father apart to reach down under your miniskirt to find your bare pussy wetter than the Caribbean Sea.

“No panties— are you nuts?” He exclaims with the raise of his eyebrows. “If I would’ve known I was talking to you like this I would’ve bent you over this fucking vanity once I walked in.” He sexily groans against your swollen lips. The heat between your bodies are making you even more needy than usual.

The two of you share breaths as your lips hover over the other’s. You gasp heavily into his mouth as his finger drags down your slippery slit.

He lets out a low groan at the feeling of your slickness and the feeling of his dick growing harder inside of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Making matters worse, you remove your hand from his shoulder to grip the thick bulge between his legs, almost flinching at the size of it. You look up at him with that needy look you have in your eyes that’s driving him up a wall.

“Then do it,” pulling him down to lick up his sharp jawline. “Bend me over and fuck me good.” You whisper into his ear.

Jungkook snaps, he pulls you off of the vanity, pulling you closer to him to taste the sweet taste of your lip gloss again. The kiss is cut short when he spins you around to bend you over the white vanity top, true to his word.

You let out a high pitched gasp as your bare chest hits the vanity top. He stands over your form, hands caressing your thighs, slowly moving up to your plump ass. His hand smacking against your ass echoes throughout the room and Jungkook’s dick twitches at the sight of your ass jiggling.

“So fucking pretty.” He says before crouching down, face all in your cookie. He bites his lips as you spread your legs further apart, desperate for his mouth.

Again, he drags his thumb down your slit and you let out load moan of pleasure from the sensation of his touch. Your hand quickly covers your mouth. “You have to be quiet princess.” The words smoothly passed through his mouth like butter making your knees weak. However, they actually buckle once you feel his tongue swipe through your slick. Your head lowers into your chest to try to keep your composure.

“Mmm,” he moans while licking through your folds, eating your cunt like it’s his favorite meal. “You taste so damn good.” He aggressively spreads your legs wider to attack your pussy with his mouth.

Your legs shake as you fee his tongue going in and out of your hole, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clit. The grip of his hand on your ass doesn’t let up as you squeeze your legs together around his head.

“R—right there! I’m gonna—” Your hole clenches around his tongue as you felt your stomach tightening. Just when you feel yourself releasing, he stops. He pulls away.

“What the fuck.” You curse in frustration. He leans his body over yours, gripping your hair to turn your head to the side. You let out a moan at his roughness.

“You’re too pretty to be cursing, princess.” He says against your lips before attacking them with a wet, sloppy kiss. You push your ass against his dick, needy from the absence of his tongue. You whimper against his mouth.

“You want me to fuck you bad, huh?” He teases, roughly brushing his bulge over your wet folds. He lets out a groan at the feeling. “Yes— mm! Fuck, yes Jungkook. I need your dick inside of me.” Jungkook places one last sloppy kiss on your lips, lets go of the grip on your hair and began unbuttoning his pants.

They instantly falls down to his ankles and he lowers his boxer briefs, letting them fall the his ankles as well, his dick smacking his stomach. You can’t see his length that he pumps in his hand behind you— but god, when he starts thrusting it in between your ass cheeks you can feel it.

It makes you nervous because you didn’t expect him to be so big. But you grow more aroused at the thought of him fucking you silly, wrecking your tight little pussy. He slowly rubs the tip of his dick over your folds, coating his dick with your arousal, layering over his pre-cum. “I hope you’re fine with me going in raw, didn’t really have me fucking you in mind before I came here today.” You nod your head faster than you ever did in your life.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just p— put it in.” He chuckles at your impatience and without a second thought, he slowly thrusts himself inside of you. Both of your moans fill the room as his dick penetrates your tight hole. You let out a shaky breath as he pulls back, just for him to thrust inside of you again.

The pain of his length ripping through you has your head spinning. As he thrusts again, he bends down over your shaky body to leave a light kiss on your shoulder. “You okay?” He softly asks and you hesitantly nod your head with your eyes shut close. “Y— yeah, just getting used to it. I’m… fine.” With that, he softly leave a kiss on your cheek before lifting back up and thrusting into you again.

He whisper out curses as your tight pussy swallows his dick and he relishes the sight of it.

After a few more thrusts the pain subsides and it is quickly replaced with the feeling of pleasure. Jungkook, wraps his hand under you to caress your tit as he continues to plunge himself deeper into your sex.

“Faster p— please,” you whisper out and you couldn’t even brace yourself for the next thrust. His hard dick hits your spot and your knees give out on you. He holds your waist out with his hands as he continuously abuses your hole. Your bodies jerk forward with each thrust.

“Your pussy feels so good around my dick, _______.” He says and you let out another high moan— hitting notes you’ve never hit before. He roughly grabs your hair again, lifting you up to make your back arch. You can see the both of you through the mirror, you can see him fucking you dirty, the way his eyebrows furrow looking down at the way your cunt swallows his length, the sight gets you even more aroused— if that’s even possible.

He finally looks up at you through the mirror. He sends you a smirk before going absolutely feral. “Hold on for me, princess.” His grip on your hair tightens as he fiercely thrusts into you. Faster, deeper, harder, he is literally blowing your back out. Your eyes squeeze shut and loud screams escape your mouth. The hand gripping your hair quickly covers your mouth to block out the lewd sounds you let out.

You can feel the knot in your stomach tightening at the fast pace and the constant pounding on your cervix. The feeling grows with Jungkook wrap his free hand over your thigh to rub your clit as he sloppily thrusts into you.

“Cum for me baby.” He says lowly and out of breath as his pace quickens. Your moans are muffled into his hand while he penetrates your cunt and stimulates your clit. “Fuck,” he says as you cum around his length, your legs shaking as Jungkook reaches his high. The sounds of your juices lapping together fills the room and you feel Jungkook’s warm release flow inside of you.

The two of you breathe heavily as Jungkook’s dick rests inside of you. After Jungkook has gotten his composure back, he pulls out, watching as your cunt discharges his cum down your thighs. Quickly pulling his pants up and jogging over to the corner to grab a paper towel, he comes back to clean you with it.

Your body is still limp over the vanity as he does so. “I hope I wasn’t too rough.” He says. You lift up, standing on your own, pulling the miniskirt down over your ass. Shaking your head. “No,” you let out a little chuckle. “That was amazing.”

Your eyes sparkle as they look up at his. He’s almost hypnotized by them, he drops his head to yours, kissing your lips again, his hands on the small of your back. “You have no idea how long I’ve been holding back.” You giggle at him.

“How long?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hand reaches your face, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he basks in your beauty and the feeling of your arms around him.

“Since the day I chose you as my COVERGIRL.”

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[ki-yomii]

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.4k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; fwb, angst w/ a happy ending, teasing, finger fucking, squirting, praise kink, frottage, dirty talk, pet names, commitment issues, jealous!jk, possessive!jk, dom!jk, idiots in love, misunderstandings ➥ summary | after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do. ➥ notes | istg i've re-written this more times than i care to count 💀 enjoy!

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cnt make it 2nite

The text is blunt - biting. No explanation offered, and certainly no false platitudes found in the lifeless string of black letters. Rather simple and straight to the point.

As you should have expected from Jungkook. He wasn’t known for his verbosity, and even less so for his love of texting.

But as you chew the fat of your cheek, reading it over and over again in an attempt to glean some hidden meaning that isn’t there, you admit to yourself - at least privately - there’s no more avoiding the truth.

One that’s been hovering over your shoulder for weeks like a shroud; an unwelcome guest you can’t ignore anymore: Jungkook’s been avoiding you.

It shouldn’t be surprising.

Moreover, it shouldn’t hurt.

There shouldn’t be an ache in your chest every time you see his contact or the plummet of your stomach when that inevitable excuse comes through.

In the end, he owes you nothing. The arrangement between you is casual, just a little fun between good friends.

It still fucking sucks though, you think, sucking your teeth.

Night thoroughly ruined before it’s begun, it’s only a matter of deciding how to respond now. In the past you’ve used a plethora of options, but you’re stumped. Unsure how to correlate the level of hurt to the nature of your not-relationship.

Should you be petty, passive-aggressive, indifferent - or worst of all: honest?

Hah, no way. I’d rather die.

Beside you, the bartender politely averts his gaze and busies himself with polishing a stack of pint glasses. It’s a slow night, and that’s saying something as this bar’s a little hole in the wall.

It’s never overly busy, which is one of the reason’s it’s a favorite meeting spot of yours. The floors might be sticky, but the music’s decent, the strobe lights they kick on after 10 PM aren’t offensive enough to induce a migraine, and the drinks are cheap with a heavy pour.

Watching him work is impressive - and almost distracting enough for you to ignore the needle sharp ache taking root beneath your ribs, the churn of your stomach.

Humiliation burns hot, creeps up your neck to settle into the apples of your cheeks as you’re stood up.

Again.

It isn’t the first time - it won’t be the last.

But it cuts deeper than all the rest combined, harder to shake off. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. The growing distance between you throbs like an open wound, as if Jungkook himself plunged a hand into your chest.

Scooped out any tender, soft thing he could find and left you hollowed out. Drained.

Not taking his flakiness personally used to be so easy. And now… well.

Goddamnit. A palm scrubs over your decolletage roughly to soothe the throb of your heart. What the hell did you expect to happen, getting involved with Jeon Jungkook, huh?

Everything from his stupidly pretty eyes to the dangerous curl of his mouth, the thick soles of his boots to the lapels of his leather jacket scream walking red flag.

Never mind the fact his proclivities are an open secret among the group. He’s never tried to hide his distaste for commitment. Finds it too monotonous. Predictable.

An eternally free soul much preferring to flit from one experience to the next, never shackled down for long. The Icarus of myth made flesh.

He runs through women like he runs through shoes, and you witnessed enough of the ensuing heartbreak and tears to be wary.

But knowing and feeling something are two very different things.

The dichotomy throws you off-kilter and finds you abandoned in a bar, once again, to choke on a regret so bitter you swear it’ll burn a hole through your throat.

What’s going on with me, you think, this is nothing new. He does this all the time.

You used to get on so well.

Any initial misgivings faded away in the face of Jungkook’s blinding attention, his unfaltering kindness lurking just beneath that surface of grit and gravel.

Even after you fuck, he never acts any differently, as casual between the sheets as he is lounging on your couch.

It's been great, it's been enough - until now.

Just the thought of going back to your empty apartment, alone, only to wake up and fall back into Jungkook’s orbit tomorrow when he swings by with a half-assed apology on his lips, and your favorite drink in hand is enough to make your skin crawl.

Stomach twisting itself into knots, everything in you rebels against the sudden cold realization: nothing will change - least of all Jungkook.

He’ll continue to take-take-take.

You'll continue to give-give-give.

On and on you'll go; a distant star orbiting a black hole, losing little bits of itself until there's nothing left.

Then he’ll leave your life as quickly as he entered it, a blurry after-image there and gone in the blink of an eye.

Fuck, I - I can’t do this anymore, you think, a shiver rattling down your spine, Because I…

An errant thought gains teeth, sinks them deep. Refuses to budge as an awful truth - one buried so deep you forgot it was there, ever lurking in the shadows - rises to the forefront of your mind.

And then --

Oh.

It’s because I love him - because I’m in love with him.

Suddenly it hurts to breathe, your lungs burning as you drown on the air itself. The steel band cinching around your ribs threatens to crack you open.

Your heart lurches in your chest, despair following swiftly to settle over your shoulders. Moreover, there is no one to blame except yourself.

Even if you want it to, it will never work out because loving Jungkook is to love the ghost of a long-forgotten memory.

And there are too many hurts to soothe, too many disappointments to name.

I can’t believe I actually -- shit. You swipe a shaky hand over your forehead. When you swallow, a sour taste clings to the back of your tongue. Should’ve known better.

You glance at your phone, the cursor blinking back at you mockingly. Should’ve done a lot of things, I guess.

Now, you're in too deep.

Waiting without ever realizing you began to do so in the first place; a life on pause, surviving off scraps of half-measures and maybe's, what-ifs, and if only's.

Now, it's clear the only way out is through.

The time to let go is here.

You need to muster up some semblance of self, and work to untangle the threads of connection binding you together. You need space to rediscover the pieces of your heart you left with him.

How to live without the taste of his kiss, the clench of his muscles, the thrust of his cock.

A new life sans Jungkook which begins with a simple reply in place of everything you really want to say: ok.

Then you wave the bartender over.

He does you a kindness once more, pretending not to notice the tears brimming along your lower lash line. “You ready to order?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah - sorry, I was…”

His mouth twitches. You waver.

Then the screen of your phone lights up with a notification.

Refusing to look lest you cave, emotions too fresh -  scraped raw and tender, you switch on DND and turn it face down where it will remain until you go home.

You're far too fragile (and sober) to think about reading Jungkook’s reply, let alone engage with him in any meaningful way.

“I’ll take a double vodka cranberry.”

Maybe if you get drunk enough, you'll forget about the home he carved in your bones.

Bottoms up, bitch.

w8 nvm guys cnt make it

y/n?

i cn b ovr in 10

???

gn ttyt

hey, sorry. called it early.

wyd?

nothing much. you?

nm running some mtchs

cool, cool. you able to swing by today?

yeh b there in 30 :)

In hindsight, trying to have this conversation with Jungkook face to face isn’t the brightest idea. But if anything, last night showed you every choice you’ve made lately is a disaster waiting to happen.

Your life’s already a mess - and you’re hopelessly in love with a man that’ll never love you back - so what’s another mistake added to a long string of misfortune.

So what if your hands tremble and your stomach churns as you unlock the door to let him in.

So what if he leans in for a kiss and you duck to the side, his lips brushing the slope of your cheek.

So what if he pauses and gives you a long, searching look before toeing off his shoes and offering you the drink he picked up on the way.

It can’t get any worse, right?

Only the hungry, molten mixture of rage and rebellion fueling you thus far fizzles away the minute you see him head towards your bedroom with a wink.

Anguish and despair follows in its wake, nipping at your heels.

This is all you’ll ever be to him, you remind yourself as you step into the room. A fun time. Nothing serious. You have to break it off.

You shoot him a tight smile. “Did you have a good night?”

Jungkook shrugs, glancing around at the decorations littering your dresser. “Nah, not really.” His gaze slides to you, traveling from your head to your bare toes in a slow once over. “I definitely would’ve had a better time with you.”

Swallowing roughly, you rub your hands over your arms and suddenly feel far too naked - exposed in your light summer dress. “Hah,” you intone without humor, awkward and stilted. “Probably not. I was out by 11:30.”

“Mm, that’s not like you.” Jungkook hums, moving forward until he’s right in front of you. His hands reach for you, grabbing your wrists gently. His thumb strokes over your pulse point. “You’re acting weird. Is there something you want to talk about, baby?”

Of course he’d notice.

It would be annoying if it wasn’t so endearing. Jungkook always pays attention to the details, makes leaps of logic based on little more than quiet observations.

You stitch together a chuckle. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins, his lip ring dimpling the swell of his bottom lip. Your chests brush with every inhale, sharing space and breath. 

“Nothing,” he agrees.

It’s torture. It’s too intimate.

The glow of your overhead lamp highlights the sweep of his cheekbones, the curl of his lashes as he blinks slow and happy. The barely there impression of his body is too much.

You shrink back, clearing your throat.

“No, don’t do that. Where are you going?”

His eyes, shimmering with warmth, plead with you to stay, his shoulders curving towards you. A large palm settles over your shoulder, sparks igniting wherever he touches.

“Stop hiding. You can talk to me about anything. Come on, I want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Steeling your resolve, you inhale and exhale with a shudder. His expression is open, soft. You know it won’t last, and take a few seconds to commit how he looks in this moment to memory.

For all you know, this will be one of the last times you’ll be this close to him again. At least until you can beat your feelings into submission.

And then you can’t put it off anymore, unable to take the ginger strokes of his fingers. The calming caresses as if he thinks you’re something precious. Quick like ripping off a band-aid, otherwise the words will never get past the bend of your throat.

“I want to stop.”

You catch the way his eyes darken, sharpen in the dim overhead light. He knows exactly what you’re talking about, but his half-smile never falters.

Of course, he refuses to make this easy on you. To acknowledge this is happening. He’s always been a greedy man; wants what he can’t have, and destroys what he does.

“Stop what?” Jungkook says. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, baby.”

“Kook,” you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “You know what I mean. I just - I can’t do,” your voice cracks, a hand motioning to the space between you, “this anymore.”

A vein throbs on the side of his neck, his jaw working in response. Muscles tense and release with every grit of his teeth. He asks, “You gonna tell me why, huh? Or are you just going to ditch me and act like it didn’t mean something?”

“Kook…”

There’s a certain grief that can’t be spoken, gnarled roots burrowing deep in your chest. A sense of loss so keenly felt it almost steals your breath.

You wish this wasn’t happening, you wish you could take it all back but this pantomime of a relationship isn’t fair to you. Not anymore. And you knew this conversation wouldn’t be fun, but Jungkook’s staunch denial still manages to surprise you.

“It didn’t mean anything though,” you say.

At least, not to you, you think. To me, it meant the world.

-- And that’s the problem.

You need to stop whatever this is between you from building. He’s already shown he doesn’t share your desire for more in a multitude of ways. He’s been avoiding you for a reason, whether he was consciously aware of your feelings or not.

Undoubtedly, you trust him with your life but not your heart.

As sweet as he is, has been, he won’t treat it gently. Not through any intentional ill-will but because he can’t contain his own commitment issues let alone make room for yours.

It’s better this way.

Let what you have - had - stay a memory unmarred by the ugliness of your hurt feelings and bitter disappointments.

Jungkook’s shoulders draw up towards his ears, his gaze glacial as his hands slide away from you. “Is there a reason you’re done with me now?”

Shadows lurk in the depths of his eyes, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Everything about him looks weighted down.

“Well, is there? I mean, shit, I think I’ve earned an answer after all the time we spent together.”

Your heart breaks for him, everything in you calling out to close the gap and offer him comfort. But you can’t. You don’t trust yourself to touch him without wanting more than your heart can bear.

“I’m not done with you,” you say. “I would never do that to you, Kook. I just - I can’t be with you like that anymore, that’s all. I need space but I’ll still be around, I promise.”

The glare he shoots your way freezes the blood in your veins. “Cut the bullshit,” he snarls. “Tell.me.why.”

You avert your gaze, arms wrapping around your chest. “Why does that - I -”

You only had one rule at the very beginning of this mess: if there’s someone you’re serious about, you stop fucking. It comes as a handy lie - a believable excuse that’ll stop any further questioning.

You don’t think you have the fortitude if Jungkook keeps pressing you, cracking under the weight of your grief and the anger in his eyes like fine china.

“I think I - I think I want to start looking for a boyfriend again.”

An expression flashes across his face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. But there’s no doubt he recognizes it for the goodbye it’s supposed to be.

This is it, you think.

You can put what you had to rest and move on, a memory on a shelf you’ll dust off years down the line when the hurt isn’t so prevalent. And hopefully, with time, you can relearn how to be friends.

Though the strange gleam to his eyes sends a prickle of apprehension down your spine, and then you find yourself being manhandled as he snaps forward like a snake coiled to strike.

Air flees your lungs as Jungkook shoves you with a firm palm, your feet stumbling over themselves as you trip backwards into your bed frame.

Wood knocks into the backs of your knees, and you fold like a stack of cards. The sheets puff out around you, the scent of your laundry detergent tickling your nose.

You blink at the textured ceiling, mouth agape as you try to process what happened.

The empty space above you doesn’t stay vacant, Jungkook quickly crowding you into the mattress with his weight as he settles over top of your body.

He molds himself to your front, his firm hips slotting themselves between your thighs. Broad palms, warm and calloused, skim your sides and ruck up the skirt of your dress as he reaches under you to grip the soft globes of your ass.

He yanks you into him, your pelvises slotting together. You whine before you can stop yourself, eyes fluttering shut at the heat of his body.

Teeth scrape along the delicate skin of your neck, the sharp pricks of pleasure-pain coaxing a shiver down your spine.

Lips brush the shell of your ear, his minty breath puffing against the side of your face as he speaks, low and husky, “So that’s it, huh?”

“What--!”

Teeth nip your earlobe, and you wince.

“My girl thinks she’s going to leave me for someone else?” Jungkook snorts. “Like I’d ever let that fucking happen.”

“I’m not your girl.”

You squirm, a bolt of awareness slicing through you as your body responds to his proximity, the weight of him over you electrifying. Liquid desire blooms behind your navel, uncomfortable and unwelcome.

“I never was.”

Blunt nails dig into the fat of your ass, and a cruel mouth latches onto the corner of your jaw. “Ah, is that right?” Jungkook asks, the rumble of his voice vibrating through your torso, your nipples tightening as they drag over the plains of his chest. “You’re not my girl?”

You swallow, and ignore the throb of your clit as the line of his cock ruts into you. “I’m not your girl, Jungkook.”

“If you’re not my girl,” he grinds into the cradle of your hips, teasing - taunting, “then why the fuck are you so wet?”

Keening, you twitch, involuntarily rocking up into the firm pressure of his shaft. The angle’s just right, spreading your folds beneath the thin cotton of your panties and giving your neglected clit the perfect stimulation.

Exposing your soaked core to the chill of your room as your body warms with mortification.

Jungkook hums in approval, giving the side of your neck a sloppy kiss followed by a stinging nip. “You think some nobody can fuck you better than me?”

“That’s not what I - ffuck!”

Heat pools low in your belly, blood pumping fast. You’re steadily losing control, the aborted rolls of your hips increasing in frequency.

“Answer me.”

A sharp burst of copper floods your mouth, your skin splitting open with how hard you’re chewing on it. Blood clings to the swell of your bottom lip, a ruby red bead you lick away with a nervous tongue.

Sweat dappled your brow, and it’s getting harder and harder to ignore the molten desire curdling your stomach.

The softness of your body knows the hardness of his, every curve has a matching divot. The heady, pleasant scent of his cologne floods your lungs with every stuttered inhale.

Your senses are overwhelmed as he surrounds you.

“Shit, Kook, please,” you plead, hands tangling in the sheets by your head.

You’re not sure what you’re asking for but at the same time, you’re not sure how you ended up here. Again.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

This was supposed to be an amenable end to a dubious affair. It’s anything but.

“I want you to tell me who your cunt belongs to.”

Fingers inch down to tease along the soft flesh of your inner thighs, and play with the elastic of your panties.

You tremble, gooseflesh dimpling the exposed skin of your arms as knuckles brush over the length of your soaked pussy.

Your clit pulses, the pressure enough to tease.

“Come on, baby,” Jungkook coaxes, working his way beneath the fabric clinging to your core, “tell me you’re my girl.”

His cock nestles into the crook of your hip, hot and heavy through his jeans as a darkened patch blooms across the denim crotch. The sticky wetness of his pre-cum smearing into your skin as arousal swells, crashing over you.

Leaving you a whimpering, trembling mess in the cage of his arms.

“You just have to say it - say you’re my girl and I’ll be so, so good to you.” His breath warms the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is say it, and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to cobble together a response, sliding a thick finger through your sticky folds and into your needy pussy just as your lips part.

All words leave you, your mind wiped clean as a low, broken cry echoes out into the room. Swallowed up by the sounds of city life outside your apartment as he works to stretch you open.

You clamp down at the sudden fullness, walls tight and fluttering around his finger like they would be around his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans. “You always feel so soft and wet.”

Whining in agreement, you give up any pretense of resistance, letting primal desire chase away the despair, the guilt that threatens to choke you. Wiping your mind clean of any thoughts until the only thing that remains is the thrust of his fingers and the ache in your cunt.

Your hands slip, scrambling for purchase with sweaty palms. “J-Jungkook!”

Your knees tremble where they dig into his sides, air rushing from you in heavy pants as the space between your bodies heats up. You know you won’t last long, already hanging on the edge.

Never in a million years did you expect to be so turned on by Jungkook’s rough behavior. He usually treats you like something delicate.

Though he holds no such compunction now, raw in his desperate desire to make you cum.

Jungkook peppers kisses onto whatever skin he can reach, spreading your thighs wider with his torso. His knuckles strain against the fabric of your panties, stretching out the cotton and ruining them forevermore as he slips another finger into you.

Then his dark head bows, catching your gaze, and he says, “Hold on.”

Barely seconds after you anchor yourself to his shoulders, he starts finger fucking you to within an inch of your life. His forearm ripples with strength, the movements of his fingers pressing and rubbing against all the right spots. Curling up to massage at your g-spot until you’re shaking beneath him with hitched breaths.

“Shit, shit,” you gasp, eyes rolling back as your toes flex against his side, “Kook, baby, please don’t stop.”

He huffs a laugh, dark and amused. “Wouldn’t ever do that to you, baby.”

“S’good - I - I’m close.”

You sob, tears brimming along your lash line. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your pussy ring in your ears, as embarrassing as it is arousing. He’s making you gush, slick wetting your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass to stain the sheets.

“So close, gonna - hnnng - gonna cum.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like that, baby. Give me that squirt.”

You shake your head. “I can’t - I can’t!”

If you could, you’d suspend time so this moment never ends. The finality of your arrangement hovering just on the other side of pleasure.

In the back of your mind, you know Jungkook’s only behaving this way because he’s jealous. Angry. He doesn’t mean it, and this is a mistake.

It’ll only hurt you in the long run but you’ll take what you can get.

After all, this is the last time you’ll be together like this.

“No,” he shushes, dropping a kiss to your sweaty brow, “No, don’t lie. I know you can. I’ll make you.”

There’s no escape.

He refuses to let you escape, using his weight to keep you pinned as he spreads his fingers open inside you, twisting and fucking so deep you feel a twinge behind your navel.

And then you’re right there, crashing over the edge as the bubble of pleasure bursts, crackling through your limbs.

You cum harder than you ever have before. Nails sinking into his shoulders with a hiss as a wounded, broken wail scrapes its way out of your throat.

Your pussy throbs, gummy walls sucking him deeper as a rush of cum gushes from you in spurts. Your ears ring with white noise, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact your hands have gone numb.

For several long moments, you float with a head full of cotton, only rejoining the atmosphere when warmth dribbles down your ass in sticky rivulets of squirt.

Jungkook’s arm is curled around your waist, holding you close as his nose nuzzles into the side of your head. Tender lips dust kisses over your crown. His cock is still a heavy weight digging into your hip but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to relieve himself.

“Jungkook,” you sigh, a wave of fatigue crashing over you. Your eyes sting when you close them, a lump building in your throat. You ache all over pleasantly, satisfaction settling deep into your bones. In spite of that, a rift opens in your heart. “Jungkook, I--”

He kisses your shoulder, shushing you. “Don’t ruin it. Just let me hold you for a little while longer… please.”

The tears are almost impossible to stop. “It’s already hard enough, don’t make me -- I can’t just…”

Jungkook squeezes you gently. “I love you,” he says, “but I swear to god you can be so stupid sometimes.”

You jolt, eyes swinging up to meet his, wide and disbelieving. “What did you just  - I - I  don’t. ..Jungkook?”

“How could I not feel the same?” he asks, tone resigned and wary. “Honestly scared the shit out of me when I realized because, well, y’know I don’t have the best track record.” He averts his gaze, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I almost fucked everything up too, but Namjoonie-hyung helped me get my head on straight.”

Something unfurls in your chest, and you feel as light as air. Ridiculously buoyant with happiness. Hope.

Oh, how stupid.

“We’re kind of idiots, aren’t we?” you ask, sniffling as you shoot him a watery smile. “Like… the biggest.”

Jungkook hums in agreement, a boyish gleam to his eyes. “I mean, you said it. Not me.”

[notherpuppet]

I know they’re probably not going to go into this (which i understand, there’s only so much time in an episode and they’re telling a different story) but I think about Al’s background a LOT. Get ready if ur in the mood for a read.

To be a mixed Black person in America is a…bizarre experience. You come to realize that due to the coincidence of your genetic makeup, white folks may divulge information that they keep so closely guarded from the ears of “more obvious-looking” black folks. Im gonna bring it back to Alastor, but lemme give some personal context. I’m mixed with Filipino, so I’m pretty obviously not white, yet my ambiguous ethnic makeup in a predominantly white suburbia seemed to make white peers and people feel much more at ease in relaying their criticisms or prejudices of black people to me. I would hear someone feel comfy enough to spew vitriolic racist shit with me, then toe the line like a circus acrobat when around someone a few shades darker in skin tone and a few coils curlier in hair texture. It was constantly infuriating and holding my tongue was a practice to both investigate someone’s true nature and preserve my own safety. I did abandon that method of navigating life in America, and experienced the switch-up white folks made when I started ‘broadcasting’ my blackness. (E.G. beyonce pre vs. post Lemonade). The criticisms and prejudice confessions just came less often, til I saw them being caged up completely after white peers experienced backlash from me. After they realized “OH this bitch is a n*****!?”

Now this is from someone who is brown, but i also wanna talk about my white-passing cousin with a similar racial makeup as Al, who is from the south and oh BOY. (Let’s call him J for this post’s purposes). J’s navigation though simple daily life is such a constant contradictory experience, of which he is still working through in therapy. I think of one moment when he was manager at retail gig and his boss told him that whenever a Black customer enters, it’s policy to give them “exceptionally attentive customer service”. Essentially, “follow that n***** around”. This is just one modern incident of when J would hear the quiet part out loud, despite his Blackness, because his appearance was white enough to make white folks drop their guard. Eventually, my cousin and I took to the same direction where we used our advantage of disarming white folks against them when the time came. We would keep note and record of racism and unlock a sort of “this you?” when the opportunity to expose that person’s true nature came. It’s pretty vengeful thinking ngl, but it is really REALLY hard to resist exposing an asshole rather than attempting to teach an asshole to change their ways. Especially given that such an attempt is an ARDUOUS uphill battle. The experience of KNOWING the truth about what someone thinks of your people, and being opened to opportunities and information that you would not have access to if the chance of your genetics was only slightly different is bIZARRE, horrific, and fuel for constant inner turmoil. (It sucks y’all)

Now back to Alastor; to have been a mixed person in the Deep South in 1930s America—it’s not too difficult for me to imagine how traumatic and convoluted that experience must have been. Especially when legally and socially, things were so much more Black and White. And when you’re on the line in between that, when society does not prepare a place for your existence, it can be SO isolating. You may consider the absurdity of such an arbitrary method of determining class, status, and/or caste much earlier in life than peers, which only further isolates you. You hold a resentment of society now that you know exactly how the other side is operating to ensure your oppression.

And then I think of Al’s weird ass moral code. How he arrived in Hell and (according to Mimzy) began killing overlords with reckless abandon. This is someone who likely had to develop the cunning to navigate 1930s Deep South America as a mixed, murdering, psychopath without getting caught by authorities who are already gunning for you. And now he is in Hell where the rules of society have gone up in smoke and he can fully embrace his rage, resentment, and vengeance. A desire to burn down the powerful people of the world can be accommodated and ANY previous inhibitions can finally be released. The morality of rising above someone by cutting them down (instead of developing emotional/spiritual healing) has become the easier and satisfying option. Finally the opportunity to show the power-secure villains of the world how easily you can tear them down when nothing is holding you back any longer.

TLDR; The trauma of racism in America is pretty sufficient cannon fodder for a severe psychotic break, the development of socially debilitating behaviors and isolation, and a quest for profound vengeance. So maybe that can explain some of the enigma that is Alastor.

And this is just ONE facet of Al. I didn’t even get to bring up the isolation that comes with being an aroace nonbeliever in the 1930s Deep South. Like FUCK. I’m a mixed, aroace nonbeliever from a modern day conservative town and yall….what a weird experience for sure lol but anyway lemme get back to my life. Whole point of this was—-WHAT AN INTERESTING FUCKEN CHARACTER TO THINK ABOUT