#also this turned into an essay I am so sorry

[sherryholmes]

Oh fuck, so - sorry, this was my first reaction after reading this beast of an essay. Firstly, an enormous THANK YOU goes to @grimaldiapologist, who blessed us (and continues to bless us) with such analysis and insight. Secondly, I am sorry for reading it late, but I swear I am here for the whole ride, friend.

I felt like my entrails had been replaced and mixed up together, then again put back together as I read the essay realizing that Caracalla knew what he was doing in his kind of reality.

I suppose you can also consider this the tragedy of becoming someone you hated all your life, in their instance, their father, which both mirrored at some point in the situations.

Geta lost his sense of invincibility after they killed Acacius, the whole of Rome against them. Now, that Geta has lost all his delusions, he knows he needs to stay strong, to actually become The Emperor - who else he learn that from? Who was a role model for being an Emperor? After all, it was their father.

When he splashed Caracalla with the wine, he mirrored his father, hurting Caracalla. Makes me wonder if he saw himself in Caracalla when they were young. After all, taking (not all) of their father's rage.

The fact that Macrinus fed Caracalla's delusion makes my stomach turn, it just breaks my heart. I hate this so much that I can't even process it in my mind.

Caracalla really gets off seeing blood, and I also think in that scene it's the realization that he actually can protect himself from the hand that strikes him. Believing that Geta is someone who doesn't love him - again, from who Caracalla never received love? Their father.

Well, now he finally can take revenge, to protect himself.

Is it it twisted to think that he wanted to kill their father to make Geta happy, to show how capable he is too?

Ok, I already forgot the point I wanted to make, but I really, really thrive reading these essays, it adds another level to the whole story and it becomes something even more.

THANK YOU, again, for actually luring me out of the tags.

Sending all the love <3  

#(other thought: do you think Cara really realized whats happening?) via @sherryholmes

Lads, we're about to find out what the text post limit for Tumblr is, because this is the longest post I've ever made here. Unfortunately it's also a post I've been procrastinating on for days, and turns out, for a good reason. Every part of this was awful. Trigger warning for literally everything but mostly for child abuse and exploration of chronic trauma.

In regards to Caracalla's mental state in this scene and forwards, there's at least three different perspectives that come into play at once, and of the main two (trauma/dissociation and the complications from his syphilis) neither is inherently more important than the next. Both of his issues affect each other as well as the way he perceives his reality, and to get to how much he's really keeping up with things at the end here evidently required half a day's worth of analysis into the whole of the timeline for this scene, but also Caracalla's past from - and I wish I was kidding - birth onwards. But to start someplace that makes sense, we'll go back just a bit from this scene: specifically, to the night before any of this takes place.

While it's obvious that Caracalla's mental state is taking a turn for the worse throughout the film, it's after the discovery of Acacius's plot that he starts looking really rough. The same can be said for Geta, who, dealing with his own issues in the aftermath, has rather suddenly stopped being a singular, solid, reliable foundation for Caracalla to ground upon. In general, Geta's attention (trust, affection) has been steadily turning for Macrinus, who is offering him everything that Caracalla can't: guidance, someone to lean on, a sort of a fatherly affection that he's been missing his whole life.

In the aftermath of Acacius's execution, each of the twins is looking for something from the other that isn't available: Caracalla for Geta's usual ability to reason them out of any trouble and come up with solutions for their safety, Geta for Caracalla to show one inkling of responsibility to help him or at the very least stop attacking him when he already knows he fucked up and it scares him, and with some of Macrinus's gentle guidance, their stressed-out bickering turns to... a very modest, but still significant, physical assault when Geta - aiming to silence Dondus with a splash of water - spills it over his brother instead. As I wrote earlier, this breaks things between them. And this right here is significantly destabilising for Caracalla in specific.

As others have already pointed out, Caracalla's reaction to his brother's outburst (it was you, Geta, not him) is primarily dissociative. He freezes first: the freeze reaction is part of the fight/flight/freeze/fawn quad of primitive reactions to a perceived threat, where when faced with danger to one's immediate physical safety, a person "freezes" in place to minimise the attention they draw to themselves. This reaction is most commonly portrayed and observed in animals, as in people, depictions tend to focus on fight/flight the most. "Deer in the headlights" is a typical metaphor used to refer to a freeze state: that shocked stillness in a person who doesn't know what to do. But a freeze response doesn't inherently express fear: it can be very quiet, and very empty.

The freeze response is inherently a dissociative state. Because the mind perceives the situation inescapable, the person becomes still and silent in the hopes of becoming invisible. On the surface this doesn't make sense in a survival state, because doing this in a situation where you're very much not going to blend into your environment will likely only expose you to more harm than in any way protect you from it - but to understand it, it's important to note that this is the primary response to immediate physical danger found in children.

In comparison to an adult, who has other means of defending themselves, a child will in most cases be incapable of direct self-defense (fight) and they will be too slow to escape danger (flight), so their best bet is to stay very still and hope somebody else intervenes (freeze). A child who is not saved but is then attacked may enter a further dissociative state, where, if they cannot save their physical self, then they can at least save their mental self - they will lock up, and "go somewhere else" in their heads. This is relevant for context, for understanding what the hell this boy is thinking in general, but for now,

what Caracalla does in this situation is just to the left of that. He leaves the room at Macrinus's suggestion, who's read his state quite accurately: he suggests, in a very paternal way, that maybe Caracalla should take Dondus and go look after him someplace else. Go calm each other down. Re-establish safety. This would be great advice coming from literally anybody but Macrinus, because the appropriate response to a freeze/dissociative state is grounding, but, alas, it is Macrinus who says that.

Macrinus, who instead of being a nice person and telling Geta next to do the same and then go fix what he broke, uses this opportunity to go fan the flames. I hate this man, have I mentioned this anywhere before? I hate him so much for what he does to these two.

(I'm keeping myself grounded by looking for illustrations here, and I need you all to know that my screenshot folders have over 4 000 pictures in them. 98% of these pictures are just of Geta and Caracalla with some left Marcus Acacius on the side for spice. I'm normal. Anyway,)

Upon leaving the room, Macrinus easily locates Caracalla again: in a logical continuum in terms of tracking his mental state, he's found here hiding under a table. In essence, after a brief burst of the flight response, he's just moved elsewhere to freeze again.

At this point, and every single point from this moment forwards at the very least, Caracalla's clearly exhibiting another trauma response: regression. While not exclusive to trauma per se, regression involves a person's mental state returning to an approximation of a younger state, a state where that person has previously experienced a similar lack of control in their circumstances, but where they may also have experienced safety and care from their caretakers.

Going by what script!Geta says to him not too long after this scene, it seems reasonable to assume that what Caracalla is doing here is what he's done before to escape his father's explosive rages and violence:

He's... a very small guy. He's likely been a very small child, too. He says to Macrinus that Geta has always had it out for him - even in the womb, Geta tried to cut/grip his umbilicus so that he couldn't breathe, presumably to be the only surviving twin. Now, there's a lot that Caracalla's saying in this scene that needs to be taken with a grain of salt, but he's almost certainly relating here a "memory" that he has about what someone else has told him, or what he's otherwise heard. He probably did have a difficult birth, he probably did experience asphyxiation, and this may have been Geta's "fault" somehow - twin births are significantly more dangerous than solo births. We won't know what exactly happened, but umbilical cords and babies throughout history have not mixed well; hell, I was born significantly after the year 180 AD surrounded by much better medical care, and still the most likely singular cause for my learning disability is that I thought hanging myself by that thing in the womb was a great concept.

Asphyxiation injury in babies can cause poor growth, along with - as indicated above - lifelong disability and difficulty with development that results from brain damage, and I think this seemingly throwaway line is here specifically to tell us why Caracalla is so small and sickly, why he is so vulnerable, and, to a degree, also why Geta is so protective of him. He's never thrived, he's always been smaller and weaker, and

their father hated that. Their father, in general, seems to have despised his sons, but by Geta's description, he went for Caracalla first. Geta got in the way, took the beatings, protected his weaker brother from the violence. The only thing a small child in that situation can do is hide, and Caracalla here, under the table, is doing that again. He remembers that danger, and he remembers that hiding under the table meant a semblance of security and shelter against the danger. He remembers that, when he was hiding, there was someone there to protect him.

There was an excellent post on this by someone in the tags that I will link here pronto if anybody can find it for me, where the poster theorises that Geta's outburst, which is so reminiscent of their father's, has essentially put Caracalla in a PTSD flashback. With the regression, this seems more than plausible: he seems to have recognised his father in his brother's actions just as much as Geta himself must have recognised them, and they are both, in this moment, dealing with what that means - or not dealing, because they're both hiding, one in a curtain and the other under a table. It's interesting to me that this mixing of their past, their father's violence, never leaves Caracalla's mind after this time. He feels haunted by the man and his own actions to some degree in his mind become determined by his father's will, his father's hatred of his brother, which he's had to witness so many times in his childhood.

Now, diverting for a second from the trauma reactions and returning to Caracalla's stories to Macrinus, we can also see the effects of his neurosyphilis here. Which is a condition that's been fun to research because any information on it now is so clouded by mandatory patient direction telling me to go to the doctor and take antibiotics, which, honey, I'm sure Caracalla would have loved to do that, sincerely, but it wasn't an option, so what we get is this:

When Caracalla tells Macrinus about his memories from the womb, Macrinus asks him, "you remember that, do you?" and Caracalla says to him, "certainly; one cannot forget."

This confirms to Macrinus as much as the audience that Caracalla's experiencing delusional thinking, and, being the utter turdbag that he is, Macrinus knows exactly the kind of an opportunity this gives him. When a person is experiencing delusions, it's recommended to neither a) play into them nor b) try to directly contest them, as both ways of confrontation tend to root the delusion deeper into a person's thinking. Macrinus takes route a) like that diverting car meme, and starts telling Caracalla more absolute nonsense that he thinks will hit up nicely with whatever he's already experiencing, and based on all of this evidence, with how he's playing Geta like a father and treating Caracalla like a mother, he knows where his vulnerabilities are. He knows how to turn him against Geta - or at least he thinks that he does, because it doesn't quite work, not all of the way, anyway. But he gives it a good old fucking attempt and I despise him for that. Alas,

now we get to the ugly climax of his manipulation of these two traumatised young men whose lives, safety and futures are breaking down all around them, and who both desperately needed guidance and reassurance from someone who cared about them. He's told Caracalla that Geta intends to betray him, so go ahead and do what you must - you've always wanted to be something on your own, but he's always stood in the way, and by the way, he hates you, too. He says that he loves you, but he doesn't, he lies. You know what to do.

Fortunately however Geta knows his brother, and unlike Macrinus would like Caracalla to think, Geta does love him. No matter how annoying he is, no matter how much he gets in the way, no matter how difficult it is to be an emperor and a carer to a sick brother - Geta loves him. And that's enough, though, before we get to that point,

... mandatory reminder that Caracalla really gets off on blood? Like really gets off on it? This is also another excellent example of his regressed state: he cuts Geta, and this excites him. So much. He's probably never felt this powerful in his life: he did that. He did that. After basking in that feeling for a moment, still smiling like a little gremlin, Caracalla goes for Geta wholesale. He seems to be treating this is as some kind of a game, shifting between two states, one of whom is deeply hurt and driven by Macrinus's lies, and the other is just... being a boy, playwrestling with his brother because for the first time ever, he feels like he's got a winning edge.

In terms of Geta's ongoing Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day however, having his hand slashed gods know how deep shows us that something like this doesn't even make him flinch. After receiving the injury he just stands there, looking at his hand, looking at Caracalla, showing the exact degree of the beatings he's been taking his whole life. This, too, is dissociative, and stems from their childhood dynamics: Caracalla knows how to hide both in his head and as a first response to overwhelming danger, and Geta knows how to block out his emotions as well as physical pain, even significant, major pain, like a deep gash in his hand. He ignores the whole thing, the injury and his own personal hurt and fear, like these factors don't exist, because he has to protect Caracalla first.

Nothing Geta does in this scene is for himself. He's afraid, yes, but he's afraid for Caracalla more. And if that doesn't break your heart then I don't know. Good for you. I can't watch this scene again. And he literally dies holding Caracalla's face with his injured hand, looking him in the eye, because he loves him, and that's it for Geta.

In this godforsaken fucking piece of cinematic history, when Macrinus takes Caracalla's hand and butchers Geta with it, Caracalla is - understandably and visibly enough - back to freeze/dissociation again.

And I think some of that might be Geta's doing, in a sense: in order to break Caracalla out of their shared PTSD flashback which he started, unintentionally, by momentarily being the worst of himself to the one person who relied on him the most, Geta's now recounted the exact abuse, the exact circumstances, of Caracalla's memories back to him. He's done this to fix the narrative: I protected you. I love you. Our father hurt us. Doing so, he's put the pieces back together for Caracalla: Geta is not their father, Geta's his brother, and he protects him and loves him. He has always protected him.

So, now that Caracalla can recognise Geta for who and what he is: who takes his hand, then, and directs the blade? Is it not Macrinus, the man who has in all senses become a father to them? Does Caracalla's father then not hold his hand to punish Geta for getting in the way, again, like he always does?

The question was, do you think Cara really realized whats happening?

And after this essay of utter pain and suffering, I hate to say it, but yes, he does absolutely realise what's happening, but he is just as incapable of incorporating any of this into his reality, into any reasonable narrative that isn't controlled by the ghosts of his past. For Geta's death specifically, though, yes. He does realise it. Very much. He looks Geta directly in the eye while he dies, and every bit of his expression screams "I'm losing you and there's nothing I can do to stop it from happening."

His body might be in a freeze state again - limp, controlled first by Geta himself, then taken over by Macrinus - but he sees what's happening. He knows what's happening. The way he goes from this:

to this:

tells you that he knows. He knows.

And to wrap this horrific fucking thing up all nice and good before I print it out just to chuck it in a fire, I'm including the bit of the scene at the Senate that evidently we didn't need to see in the film:

This is Caracalla, trying desperately to make sense of his reality, the things that were done with his body against his will, his unspeakable and indescribable loss, and the lies that Macrinus has told him all over it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go have a nice day in some other place where none of this happened and Macrinus never existed at all. As a fellow survivor of childhood abuse at the hands of a parent, fuck you, Macrinus. Fuck you for what you did to them. You're the single worst kind of a person on earth and if you were real I would eat your entrails for lunch.

This has been a post, good timezone.

[kenuis]

payback time !!

rindou: 👄 & ❤️‍🔥 kunigami: 😘 & ❤️ polyship: 💭 & 💗

foul. This is foul.

Rindou- 👄 - Our best kiss was after he confessed. It took a long time, because he doesn't like to talk about his feelings, and even when he comes to terms with them, it's like pulling teeth. Vulnerability is not his strong suit so when he finally told me everything it was the deepest kiss we'd ever shared. Trying to consume each other's feelings through our kiss. (I hate you sm /j) ❤️‍🔥 - I am very much a physical touch person which is something he needed to get used to. He used to stiffen and was so awkward. Now there are days where he just lays on top of me while I scratch his scalp. Alternatively I struggle with quality time. I have a hard time slowing down and turning off work/outside things. He started turning my phone off completely so I can focus on what we're doing together. I like when he plays music for me until I fall asleep or when we watch a documentary together. Kunigami- ❤️ - There's been some in passing. If he does purpose I feel like it'd be something that would completely catch me off guard. 😘 - I call him a shortened version of his name. "Suke or Ren." (his name is so pretty to moan) But he calls me angel. Or sweetheart. We also use babe/baby quite often. Polyship - (hahaha kill me rn going down the rabbit hole)

💭 - I met Ken through Mitsuya at a Toman dinner. I happened to be helping Mitsuya with his website when he kindly volunteered me to do Ken's for the shop. Imagine my shock when I walked into the shop a couple of weeks later to be greeted by both of these tall gorgeous men. I'm quite shy, so I literally felt like bolting. Inui said I reminded him of a scared baby bunny. I hate it because they make fun of me and tease me for it all the time. I was so timid at first only to turn out to be the worlds biggest brat. LMFAOOOO 💗 - Ahhhh dividing time can be hard sometimes, especially because I work quite late. I get in around 1:30 or so in the morning (Ken always grumbles about this, he hates me leaving on my own, it look about a month of proving that yes I was getting home just fine that he finally stopped being an ass) so I try to spend rotating nights with them. Every once in a while we'll all sleep in the bed together but they're both space heaters so doing it every night is unrealistic. I would suffer and die because I too am a space heater. There are days that Inui and Ken rotate days off so we can have some one on one time, but being with the both of them is easier than I expected.

[deadqueernoldor]

Thinking thoughts about those from Cuivienen and how they later treated the Valar, especially after Cuivienen was destroyed.

I imagine a foundation of sorrow and a layer of betrayal and pettiness. They had promised safety. And how did it turn out? Kin of Tata and Tatie their first leaders, slain in Valinor by the Dark Hunter from which the Valar promised protection in Valinor.

And then, the War of Wrath comes and with it the destruction of Cuivienen.

If any of those were re-embodied in Aman, I wonder if they make it a point to always turn their back to Valar and Maiar. I wonder if they only speak in the tongue they had first devised all those millennia ago and spoke in Cuivienen before time and different kindreds changed the tongue, not Sindarin or Quenya from the Great Journey's time or later. I wonder if they sing songs in their ancient tongue, songs about the beauty and unsullied health of Cuivienen every time any of the Ainur are near.

I wonder if the Valar feel any shame when those who they once looked upon in wonder and love gaze back at them with indifference or disgust.

[cowboyskeletons]

and sparrow's son loves the world so much and loves everyone around him and how can sparrow tell him that the world is cruel? how can he tell him that love will be punished and that cruelty is the only way to survive? normal's love scares him, he loves his son so much but that love scares him. he would do and has done anything for his son but he knows that it has led to his own ruin. and he loves his son but too much love has only ever harmed him and maybe he can take a model from his own dad and multitask.

maybe he can love his son but he hates him too, hates that normal can love and hates that normal can be loved and hates that normal can be so oblivious to the cruelty around him in a way that he himself lost when the world ended. he wants his son to have everything but loathes that fact that normal'll never try. that he just accepts life as it is. the way his dad did, when sparrow saluted henry and went along with the world's end and turned a blind eye to his wife's infidelity.

he sees himself in normal, maybe. maybe he hates that. because he lost himself, that day he lost his father's care and his mother's respect, and he can't bear to see himself lost again. normal needs to be cruel because otherwise he will be crushed and sparrow can't do that again. can't let himself be crushed again.

[kinnbig]

oh my god, tell us more (about the arm tankhun fake dating fic in your head), please! :D

OKAY so the concept is. about 6 months post-canon, the main and minor families are invited to the destination wedding of one of their allies from a hugely powerful mafia family - it's a few nights staying on a private tropical island, and as a respect/trust/hospitality thing, it would be considered really inappropriate for guests to bring more than one or two bodyguards per group.

so Tankhun is like “well then obviously I can’t go?” because while he is now much better at leaving the house, he’s not quite ‘get on a plane and fly to a random island for several days of intense socialisation with incredibly dangerous near-strangers without a single Trusted Bodyguard’ levels of better.

he’s talking to Chay about it and Chay's like “yeah, it's kind of fucked up that everyone gets a +1 but not a bodyguard. how would anyone even know if your +1 was your bodyguard?!” and Tankhun's like “.....Chay you're a genius. Arm, I need you to be my wedding date.”

commence the fake dating shenanigans! they ‘reveal’ their secret, long-term relationship to the entire family, and then they’ve got to pretend to be a couple in front of everyone while Arm actually works as Tankhun’s bodyguard. as the only other person who knows their relationship isn’t real, Chay is helping to mastermind the entire operation. what Chay also knows is that Khun does actually have very real and Not Fake feelings for Arm - and you can be sure he’s going to be a menace about it.

luckily, Khun is being just as much of a menace in return - the wedding is the first time Kim and Chay have been in the same room since… well, everything, and Tankhun has watched them both silently pine for each other for long enough. background KimChay reconciliation era my beloved!

and so the usual fake dating antics ensue! lots of pining… plenty of acting out intimacy while wishing it was genuine… Chay putting them in so many Situations… lines slowly blurring between what is part of the act and what is real… and. obviously. there was only one bed.

🥰 thank u so much for indulging me, i love talking about blorbos from my shows and my silly story ideas for them! i came up with this with @aikinn and @thewholedamnboulangerie during some kind of group astral plane projection, which makes it especially delicious as they always have the best and most objectively correct Tankhun takes 💪

my brain is currently on 24/7 armtankhun lockdown soooo if u have thoughts about Them… pls… i would like to eat them…

[matchaflavored]

re: your last post, so real man... honestly the least they could do is censor the ship name if they're going to be really vocal about their dislike for it. also seeing someone call treyrid... too mother-son coded to ship? help girl

Oof, yeah. I think people can dislike whatever they want, whatever their personal relationship is with how they interpret and consume media is beyond my control (WITHIN REASON...!!!). Which is also why I'm like sure you can express that dislike... that is human... but at least be considerate about it haha.

A lot of what people dislike about ♣️🌹comes down to personal taste or straight up projection because that is an insane thing to claim lol. 'Coded' lost all its meaning to a lot of people who really mean 'this is what I want their relationship to be'. In general I don't like to box relationships into certain labels (mother-son... really man...) because I feel like it can be pretty restrictive to how you approach nuance like how do you look at Trey and Riddle and go oh their relationship is the epitome of nuclear family dynamics, actually.

[cowboysmp3]

i’m trying to read every unread book on my bookshelf before the end of the year and the problem is. a lot of the reasons i abandoned certain books is because they are . not good but lord im trying 🙏

[andromeda3116]

boy i love getting tipsy and then drunk and gushing about my special interest to people who cannot possibly care about this even half as much as i do and being deeply annoying and embarrassing myself and wanting to crawl into a hole once the harsh light of sobriety hits

[anonyhun]

My brother and I were talking about TMNT and I have to ask ya'll something

[plutoids-thoughts]

Am I listening to the age of extinction soundtrack for the fourth time this week? Unimportant.

What’s more important is WHO IS CUTTING ONIONS????

[youtube-fucker]

And that's everything, yippee!!! If you enjoyed watching what I made and want to play it then, uh… sorry you're gonna have to wait a while. Some spells aren't made yet and selling is busted and will crash, and like I said, I'm not that good of a programmer (a lot of stuff was copy-pasted)… HOWEVER I do have a second mod planned that WILL be playable before being fully completed because I'll most likely make a full demo for it! If there's enough interest in THAT one, I may make a second blog to just post about it, including updates, asks for opinions (I'm gonna be making some new sound-based things), and other silly little things (and maybe also cries for help if need be). The next mod does have a name, unlike this one, and will be called "Undertale Yellow: Dual Justice" (yes, I do mean with a UA sound and not an OO sound, but OO can make sense under certain circumstances). The naming convention will be made clearer either when the demo is posted and/or if I make that second blog. Which ever comes first. HOWEVER, I do have a leetol thing to share that I finished during this event. Be nice because it probably isn't fully finished yet, but I think it sounds good!

Teehee~ I am quite proud of it. Feel free to give feedback, I need to improve in the music making field heavily for this mod (is making three, technically five, songs for it)

...

...

...

Actually… if… if I can be transparent for a moment… I had never thought that I would have any form of impact in my life. Even since I was young, I had basically accepted that I would likely die in obscurity; a nobody barely remembered. But… ever since I found this AU, I know that won't happen. I may die relatively unknown, but I'll die knowing that I made people happy; that I was able to affect someone. When I was young, I would always make plans-little more than childish delusions-about making something game related. Those plans always fell through. And now one of them is close to fruition. I've finally accomplished one of my childhood dreams. If I hadn't sent my first anon about how a human Clover and monster Clover would react to meeting; if it had been answered directly and not with some philosophical bit, I wouldn't be here now. It's crazy to think about how, if just one tiny, tiny thing had been different, then your life would be so wildly different. Our choices define us, especially tiny ones at random moments. Those ones are the ones that can make the biggest impacts. So… I guess what I'm trying to say is… I'm so glad that this happened to me, that I was able to not end up how I thought I might have. That I was able to have such a positive impact on others. Not just with this, but for other things as well. If I had never started interacting with this AU, I wouldn't have met some of my closest friends. At least, not in the way I have. There were some that I had seen around, but never really interacted with. This silly little creature has allowed me to grow so much and improve in ways I never thought possible. Heck, I probably never would have even discovered my talent for pixel art if it weren't for this! I literally only started just to make them walk for fun! And now I've made a whole ass mod that I honestly wasn't even sure if I would publish or not at first! I just… I just have a lot to owe to this game and this AU. Thank you, Undertale Yellow. And thank you Ray. I love you (platonic) both. I'm sure I will never, EVER, forget this.

That's… that's all I got. Originally I was gonna have a poll about if I should make that second blog, but I literally started to cry writing that so I don't think now would be a good time, haha. So I guess… have this little thing I made as a sort of poster. You guys can tell me if you'd want that second blog or not. I just… I think I might need to take a hot second to just. let myself feel emotional and vulnerable… (asks will be off until I get home from school) I eagerly look forward to when both this mod and the next mod are finished, and to see how people react to it!

[thorne1435]

True, true. Essay time!

For the sake of writing, the offensive part is in how your characters act and react towards your clockable trans person. If they're respectful about it, then everything is fine. It's just realism, at that point, and that sort of positive portrayal might make it a little easier to encounter someone like that in real life.

The same can be said of a visual medium: draw women with adam's apples or slight beard-shadow or strong jawbones, because some of us have those traits, cis and trans alike. Then, someone who's never seen a trans woman before sees your artwork and if they finally do see a trans woman in the wild (or just a cis woman with masculine features), they'll be less taken aback by the fact that some women have adam's apples and/or etc. This is an important part of destigmatization.

Must I, once more, direct our attention to Ticker (Warframe)? She's very masculine, and y'know what? It's not a big deal. Nobody fucks with her. She's unabashedly a woman in spite of the clockability, and that fucks severely. Because it's real. It resonates with people who are like her. It gives them hope that there are people out there who are willing to accept them in spite of it, while simultaneously creating those accepting people in the first place.

As cliché as it is to say, representation matters. Especially when it's realistic and respectful. I remember when I was still cis and transphobic, I absolutely had my world view move slightly to the left when I had to accept that she was a woman and there was no issue with that. And that's pretty impressive given how little dialogue Ticker actually had when she was introduced. Imagine what can be accomplished with an obviously-trans character who's thrust directly into the spotlight as a side-character who is frequently interacted with and maybe even talks about they're experiences! But if we can't have that, just give the women an adam's apple and the men a soft face every now and again. Just for us.

to cis artists, yr allowed to draw trans characters to be clockable, in fact i encourage it. it's not politically incorrect or offensive to depict trans people as being obviously trans, especially if you're drawing cartoons. its not a stereotype a lot of us just look like that

[metallteeff]

okay i will rant for like two seconds my once a month rant but i have recently realized fucking psychology or i guess like modern/pop psychology especially is destroyingggg art. so bad.

like as writer/artist for like the past 2-3 years i’ve found myself being like oh i need to be able to perfectly articulate how my stories deal with mental health and then i get in this awful loop bc i’m not writing anymore im dissecting.

and on the audience part too it’s also awful. i love metas and analysis etc etc but it’s all turned into this strange phenomenon of like “proving a theory” and so many of these metas (im just going to use that for the catchall) focus on the same dissection.

just lately when it comes to art and discussion old or new academic or twitter rants i feel like i constantly see people asking “what is wrong with the artist to make them make this” instead of understanding the emotion or subject present in the piece and dissecting that as it relates to you. it has ti be clinical and hard fact and true to the creators intent.

i hate this approach so much and the way i see it effects my writing has made me crazy so i’m glad i’ve realized. i do not like to see abstract concepts put into a box im sure no one else does but being in like online art culture it’s so so so bad for that because no one can discuss anything online it has to be a debate. and then you’re debating art instead of analyzing and sharing experience.

this is all very vague and that’s kind of the point. what i’m talking about applies to anyone from like brain rotted edge lord anime girl artists to characters in mainstream/high production projects. there is no separation of art from artist on the basis of how does it make you feel it seems like it’s everyone’s wondering what’s going on in the artists head and trying to use their art as tools to figure it out. i think that has terrified me in creating and it’s made me feel like i have to make it present in my art in the first place so i have “nothing to hide” but why does an audience need to be in your psyche???

this is not me saying exploring mental health and illness and symptoms of it in art is a bad thing, it is exactly the opposite. it’s when it turns into everyone fighting about how xyz proves their headcanon correct and then no one else is allowed to interpret a character another way when the point of most art from the people i know and/or admire want the exact opposite. every character should be a mirror to a large variety of people and experiences. the same shade of green should excite one person and disgust the next. i am just so tired and appalled and over the like compartmentalization of art to enjoy it as a monolith go fuck yourself!!!!!

and i kind of got off topic with the subject of psychology present in art but looking at art with a psychological lense can be fun but that’s the lens you should already be using in the sense of connecting emotionally to pieces. i’m seeing yourself in the art right in front of you. most people (especially people who don’t create art often) go into art immediately trying to “figure it out” which i understand but how to you make it clear to everyone that they already understand, they just need to listen to what is there in front of them.

to look at art through a clinical lens is the death of art is maybe a more accurate way of talking about it. to look at art and try to dissect it, not for yourself, but to say “i know exactly what the artist was thinking” you’ll never be right. it’s fun to joke about in the basis of relation to the art but then that’s just you relating. that’s your experience and perception. you will never know the artists intent.

this is more specific and a little more silly but i feel like that^ over laps with people freaking out about character and “good/bad” representation. saying gay characters can only act this way. that characters with plurality can only be portrayed like this. that characters with a disability or neurodivergence or this or that can only say this list of things or else you’ve made a “harmful character”. of course there is harmful stereotyping but i would hope everyone able to publish and produce stuff knows what to do and not to do. i know that’s not realistic but i hope majority of writers don’t need a strict do and does list to write all of their stories!

i really mean this more in the way of making a strict view of how exactly to portray a certain character especially when it comes to marginalized identity and psychology then makes a new box that pisses people off. people did not like autistic people being portrayed as emotionless genius robots who parade as people and that’s normal because that is fucked up. but why now does every autistic character need to be almost a joke about being “too weird”. why also does a character need to be confirmed by the creator to be anything. it’s definitely nice but to me if a character portrays your experience without being confirmed anything, why not just enjoy the character in the way you perceive them. i’m also just a really big fan of ambiguity and surrealism in art so that’s how i prefer to take it but i don’t understand why every single aspect of art needs to be labeled for enjoyment. it’s killing it.

i kind of got off track with this but i hope it’s clear how i feel like psychology effects art in the ways of when you confine symptoms to one box and you put people into those boxes and those people love art and make art. then the perception of art will be affected and it’s hurting it badly. it is okay to be uncertain but i think psychology is hurting people and art badly in tandem

[addictsitter]

what is chambers even about

chambers is a supernatural/horror series on netflix that premiered in 2019, lasted one season and then was brutally cancelled two months after release.

the main character is sasha yazzie (and if i see anyone hate her i will fight them) a seventeen year old indigenous girl (this fact is important btw) who has a freak heart attack while trying to lose her virginity. through what is, over the course of the series, implied to be supernatural intervention, she manages to get to a hospital in time and gets a heart transplant from a girl who died twenty minutes away in the fictional (and in no way based on sedona) crystal valley. (this is set in arizona fyi.) the heart donor, a white girl named becky lefevre, is survived by her twin brother (elliot, my boy), her mother (nancy) and her father (ben). via what is definitely absolutely shady and questionably legal behavior, ben tracks sasha down and invite hers to dinner. no, it is not any less creepy in context.

after that dinner and that first night with the lefevres, sasha starts going to the weirdo rich kid school because of a scholarship from ben and nancy. (there is the overall vibe for most of the series that they're kind of using sasha as a becky substitute. this just gets worse and more blatant during the back half of the series.) at the same time, sasha starts seeing things. hallucinations that are written off as anxiety but are, of course, supernatural. she sees becky several places, hallucinates things that becky saw, manages to have several skills of becky's somehow, etc etc. (also she gets the twin thing with elliot, which is fun.) but the more that sasha sees, the more that becky comes through. suddenly, there's straight blond streaks in sasha's hair. suddenly the cut on her hand from a becky flashback is healed but surrounded by white skin.

long story very very very short, it turns out that the lefevres' weird rich person new age country club is actually a cult that may or may not be demon summoners who attempted to use becky as a host and becky killed herself because of it. because of this, becky is still sort of alive in sasha and trying to take sasha over to kill her. it is not any less unsettling in context, btw. there is an excellent scene that takes place ~in sasha's heart~ where becky's been getting rid of sasha's stuff and replacing it with all of hers. it's v obviously meant to be representative of what's going on with the battle for possession of sasha. skipping several spoilers, the series ends with the cult approaching sasha to be like "hey so obviously becky was the wrong choice but surprise we decided it's you" and left it on a sort of cliffhanger.

the series has some really obvious themes of cultural appropriation (just about everything in crystal valley/the cult) that are juxtaposed with the fact that, due to her upbringing, sasha's never been able to connect with her heritage and is unfamiliar with most of it. according to the showrunner, the plot with the lefevre parents using sasha as a becky replacement is also meant to be a Thing about colonialism that would have been addressed and explored more fully in the non-existent season two (rip)

the series has issues (i have a List of trigger warnings for it) and the writing has some, uh... moments. but everyone knocks it out of the park acting-wise, sivan alyra rose is absolutely incredible as sasha, everyone on this show is hella pretty even becky's ambiguously evil best friend. honestly, the fact that sivan didn't even get nominated for this series is a fucking crime.

[atlabeth]

unadulterated loathing (pt 1)

pt 2

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner up with fiyero on a history project. things don’t go as you imagine.

a/n: wicked was really good, i love jonathan bailey, and we're coming up on finals season which means im writing about how stressed i am. also halfway through this i realized reader is lowkey paris geller coded lmao. this got away from me so im splitting it into 2 parts, i had a lot of fun writing it so enjoy! also im high posting this so if there's any editing issues im sorry lol!!

wc: 5.5k

warning(s): reader is stressed to the max constantly. she is kinda mean to fiyero but he's into it so it's okay. mostly fluff

Your fingers were beginning to cramp. 

You should have been used to this by now with Doctor Dillamond. You’d been in his class for a few months now, and you graded essays for him often. He often had a propensity for verbosity, but this lecture had been an especially hefty one in preparation for your midterm projects.

He would be announcing partners before the end of class—much to your dismay, for you worked far better on your own than with others holding you down—and you figured you would want to have as much of a head start as possible. 

Great Oz, how you hoped you would be paired with one of your friends. Coralie and Ezura were your only contenders for top of the class—Elphaba had potential as well, not because of the magic she couldn’t control but because of the brain she very well could—and anyone else would frankly slow you down. Doing a large research paper with someone who didn’t care as much as you did would be a drag you didn’t care to go through. 

Midterms were only the most important thing, for they set the track towards finals and affirmed your skill with your assignments, and your first midterm was potentially the most important thing for, when completed successfully, set you on the correct track altogether. 

You tried not to think about it too much (though you failed almost immediately), for you were sure Doctor Dillamond would honor all the work you’d done for him by putting you with a suitable partner. 

“I see some of you are getting restless, so I will cut class short today.” Your eyes snapped up from your paper to see the professor smiling, and you could hear sighs of relief around the room. “I’m sure you’re all eager to know your partners for the midterm paper.” 

The sighs of relief turned to groans, and you had to agree. Assigned partners should have been considered archaic at this point in time. 

Doctor Dillamond trotted back to the projector and, with a bit of difficulty, replaced the image with a piece of paper. Everybody in the class was paired off in groups of two—you immediately started searching for your name, squinting slightly to see despite your spot in the front, and the furrow between your brows deepened when you realized you couldn’t find it. 

You searched instead for your hopeful options. Coralie was with Mayara, Ezura was with Nicholas, Elphaba was with Galinda—of course. You let out a slight huff of annoyance, not just at your disappointment but at the continued lack of your name. 

Perhaps he’d merely forgotten. You didn’t know how Dillamond could have forgotten you, seeing as you were only his best student and literal TA, but things happened. Your anxieties only grew as you heard the beginnings of whispers throughout the room as your classmates saw their pairings, either excited or dismal. 

“Class is dismissed,” Doctor Dillamond said. The room began bustling as students gathered their things, already talking with their friends or searching out their project partner—you heard Galinda squeal and saw her grab Elphaba’s hands out of your peripherals. You could only worry your lip between your teeth as you swept everything in your bag, hardly waiting a second before rushing up to Dillamond’s desk. 

“You didn’t call my name, professor,” you said, managing a smile as you tried to act like it wasn’t killing you. How could he have not called your name? Was there something wrong? Great Oz— had you been somehow moved out of the class? Was your work not exemplary enough? Your assistance not assisting enough? “I don’t have a partner.” 

His mouth opened, but you only found yourself continuing, the words practically tumbling out of you.  

“Of course, if you intended for me to be on my own then I am perfectly alright with that!” Your smile widened as your fingertips dangled over his desk. “I— I prefer it, in fact, so if that is it then there is really no issue at all—”

“Mr. Tigelaar!” he interrupted, and your head turned on instinct to see the eponymous boy arm in arm with Galinda (who was arm in arm with Elphaba) just in front of the door. “I hope you are not about to leave.”

Fiyero flashed a look at his companions before offering one of those easy smiles he seemed to always have up his sleeve. “You dismissed the class. I believe I am part of your class, am I not?”

“You are,” he said, “but you were not assigned a partner. Surely you wouldn’t be trying to get out of the project.”

Your free hand clenched as the threads started to connect. Doctor Dillamond wouldn’t do this to you. Would he?

That easy smile remained on his lips as he turned to Galinda and whispered something in her ear. She giggled and pecked him on the cheek before she walked out, pulling Elphaba behind her, and Fiyero sauntered over. 

“Of course I’m not trying to get out of it,” he said. “Whyever would you think so?”

“Your attempt at a quick exit before you could be assigned a partner,” the professor said. “But it is no matter, for your partner is right here.”

You blinked. He would do this to you.

Why would he do this to you?

“Well, pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. “Fiyero Tigelaar.”

You ignored him, for you couldn’t look away from Doctor Dillamond. Would it be mad for you to strangle a Goat?

“Professor,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “why?”

“Mr. Tigelaar’s grades in my class have not been satisfactory, as I’m sure he is aware.” Dillamond moved away from his desk, prodding the chalkboard with his head to move it out of the way. “I care about all my students, even if they seem not to care for my course. I believe a partnership for the two of you would be beneficial.”

Your jaw clenched. “So you’re forcing me to tutor him because he hasn’t got a brain.”

Fiyero chuckled. “Ouch.”

“Not tutoring, just working on your midterm together,” he said. “And if you end up teaching him a few things along the way, then we would all be better off, wouldn’t we?” 

“Professor, with all due respect, this is ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “Why should I have to risk my grade, my midterm, my standing altogether at Shiz just to help him?” 

“Should you perform the way that is typical of you, there should be no issues.” Doctor Dillamond gave you that professorly look and your teeth grinded against each other. How dare he try to take the moral high ground. “Now, the two of you better hurry off. You haven’t got forever to work on this project.” 

“Professor,” you whispered, determined to not let up, “why are you punishing me like this?”

“I’m not punishing you, my dear.”

“Fiyero couldn’t care less about any of this,” you insisted. “I’m going to fail my midterm and it will be all his fault!”

“If you believe he can make you fail, then you haven’t got as much faith in yourself as I believed.” Doctor Dillamond looked at you. “Trust me—and yourself—that this will all work out.”

You stared back—it was rather difficult to have a staring contest with a Goat. “I don’t suppose I can change your mind on this?”

“You’d be correct.”

You huffed and glanced away. “Fine. But expect those test scores to take an extra day.”

He let out a bleaty sort of laugh while you walked away. You considered it a credit to yourself that you held back the childish tantrum you wanted to throw as you moved back over to your desk to gather the rest of your things. You shoved your books into your bag with a bit more anger than necessary, and you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over to see Fiyero sidled up beside you, leaning against the desk next to yours. 

“Surely you won’t be this irritated at me the entirety of our project.” He still had that unbothered smile on his lips, and it made you want to hit him. “It might make this a much more miserable partnership.”

You let out a mirthless laugh as you shouldered your bag. “Don’t act like this pains you. You’re just going to ride my coattails the entire time.” 

“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Fiyero mused. “But now that you bring it up, I just may have to.” 

“For the love of Oz,” you muttered to yourself before mustering the strength to look up at him. “I have a myriad of things I need to do today. Why don’t you go bother your girlfriend for the rest of the day, and then you can meet me at the library first thing tomorrow morning so we can discuss all of this.” 

He shrugged. “Sounds alright to me.” 

“Good,” you said. “Because I meant every word I said back there. I will not have you ruining all my progress thus far because of your absolute refusal to think.” 

“It looks as if you could take a page out of my book,” Fiyero said. “You seem awfully stressed.” 

Your lips tightened into a mirthless smile. “I’m stressed because of you, Fiyero, and we have hardly even interacted. I dread to think of my mental state after a week of working together. Now, good day. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

You swept past him and walked out of Doctor Dillamond’s classroom. You felt his eyes on you until you turned the corner, and you had to resist the urge to look back. 

Oh, how you loathed group projects. 

-

The rest of your day was far more demanderating than it should have been, and you blamed Fiyero for it. You swore the clock went by half as quick and your lectures twice as long—it didn’t help that you were so distracted in chemistry that you nearly burned your eyebrows off from a potion gone wrong. 

You’d practically thrown yourself onto your bed when you got back to your dorm, and you didn’t get up until your roommate got back and demanded to know what had gotten into you. She didn’t exactly give you the response you wanted. 

“The prince is your partner?” Coralie sighed dreamily. “Oh, you are so lucky.” 

“Lucky is not the way I’d put it,” you mumbled, words muffled by the sheets. You finally tore yourself up off your bed and picked your nightgown up from atop your dresser. You went behind your folding sheet and began to change. “And I didn’t know you had eyes for Fiyero.” 

“I hardly have eyes for him,” she said wryly. “I just have eyes—anyone can see that he’s attractive.” 

“It doesn’t matter how attractive he is if he makes me fail this midterm,” you said. You straightened your nightgown then folded your school uniform while you walked back into the open, passing a glance at your roommate as you placed it on your desk. You then settled on your bed with a huff. “I just don’t understand why Doctor Dillamond is punishing me like this. It makes me reconsider all those late nights spent grading papers for him.” 

Coralie shrugged. “You’re one of his best students, Fiyero is probably one of his worst. I bet Doctor Dillamond figured you would be happy to take him on, what with how happily you take on everything else he throws at you.” 

You grumbled as you laid back against your pillows. “I just don’t know if I can take him on. Fiyero seems to care more about flirting with every student at this school than any actual material.” 

She gave you a mischievous smile. “Maybe he’ll turn the full force of his affections on you in return for your studiousness. Oh, how that would be a sight to see.” 

“Don’t even put that idea into the air, Cora,” you scoffed. “Besides, he’s clearly involved with Galinda. Even if I was interested, which I’m not—” you emphasized with a pointed look at her— “that isn’t something I want to touch.” 

“Well, you can’t deny that he’s dreamy,” she said. “He just showed up at Shiz and people started falling left and right. It’s more impressive that you haven’t.” 

“Because I’m here for one reason,” you said. “His whole… thing doesn’t fit into any of it.” 

“I know,” Coralie mused as she fell back onto her pillows. “You’ve told me your whole plan ten times over. I just think you should also try to enjoy your life instead of bulldozing your way through it.” 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I’m enjoying my life just fine, thank you.” 

Interestingly enough, Fiyero was going through something similar a myriad of rooms away. 

He laid on Galinda’s bed, his head in her lap as she trailed her fingers through his hair. She’d been going on about something for the last couple of minutes, but he hadn’t really been able to focus on any of it. 

“Dearest, did you not hear what I said?” 

Fiyero blinked at the sound of Galinda’s voice. He hadn’t indeed. 

“I’m sorry, beloved.” He absentmindedly reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze once he found it. “I was thinking.” 

Elphaba laughed from across the room. She sat on her bed with a book in her lap. “That’s a first for you.” 

“It is,” Galinda said, though with much more concern laced in her voice. Her hand moved from his hair to his forehead. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Just fine,” he assured. “What was it you were saying?” 

“Just lamenting on how awful it is that we’ve been separated for this project,” she sighed. “I’m sure I could persuade Doctor Dillamond to put us in a group of three.”

“You can’t even get him to pronounce your name correctly,” Elphaba said wryly. “How could you get him to do this?” 

“Well,” Galinda huffed, “maybe you could do it. He appears to like you more than me.” 

“I’m sure that really hurts,” she said. 

Galinda placed her hand on her chest. “It does!” 

“It’s fine,” Fiyero interrupted. “I’m alright with my partner. She’s nice.” 

“Nice?” Elphaba scoffed. “I heard her lecturing you the whole time we were out in the hallway.” 

“She’s passionate,” he decided. “Besides, I don’t really care. I haven’t thought about it since she left.” 

That was a complete lie. In truth, Fiyero hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left. Very strange for someone who preferred to go through life with less thinking and more doing. 

He honestly didn’t know why his mind was so occupied with you. 

He’d always been aware of you, obviously—all your professors adored you, your name was always brought up when talking about top of the class, and he was sure you held the record for most time spent in the library at once—but he didn’t know anything about you other than your academic record. And for someone with such strong opinions, especially about him, Fiyero found himself with the strange need to know more. 

He would be at the library tomorrow. Maybe not on time, but certainly there. 

Fiyero would make this the beginning of a beautiful partnership, one way or another.

-

True to your word, you were in the library bright and early after a quick stop at the dining hall. You went through the effort of gathering everything you thought you would need—a myriad of textbooks and encyclopedias, your well-weathered notebook and another one for Fiyero because you doubted he had one, and enough writing material for the two of you.

You sighed. You had to do so much just to even the ground between your groups and the others. Coralie was always so prepared whenever you worked together. 

Fiyero, to your surprise, was only ten minutes late. You already had your head buried in a book when he said your name and scared you witless. 

Your eyes widened as they darted up to look at him, and he chuckled. 

“Sorry. You were in the zone.”

“I just wasn’t expecting you,” you said. “You’re late.”

“Hardly.” Fiyero took the seat across from you, his eyes sweeping over everything you had on the table. “You’ve got quite a collection.”

“I doubt you know your way around the library,” you said. 

“I know my way around a lot of things.” 

You leveled your gaze at him. Leave it to Fiyero to make everything an innuendo. “And is a library one of them?”

“I’m sure I could make it one.”

“If you bothered to think at all.”

“Darling, you know I’d never,” he said with a smile. “Now, what are we doing here?”

“Do you really not know what our midterm is?” you marveled. 

“I have more important things to worry about,” he said. 

You scoffed and shook your head. Ridiculous— it was ridiculous that you had to put up with this. Maybe Doctor Dillamond really did hate you.

“Our assignment is an extensively researched ten page paper on any great Ozian,” you said. “Anyone who has contributed to our society in a relevant way and made our lives better for it.”

“A ten page paper?” Fiyero frowned. “That seems a bit much.”

“Between the two of us, it’s just five pages each, and we’ve got two weeks to get it done,” you said. “I’ve written five pages in a few hours of inspiration.”

“Your life truly sounds thrilling,” Fiyero said. “We could do the Wizard.”

“Half the class is going to do the wizard,” you scoffed. 

“Because he’s a great man,” he said. “There’s no shame in it.”

“There is absolutely shame in copying half the class,” you said as you pushed over a sheet of paper to him. “Now, I’ve already got a list going. Look it over; see if there’s anyone you like or anyone worthwhile you want to add.”

You looked back down at your encyclopedia, opened to your personal favorite choice, and continued scribbling down basic notes. You glanced up a few moments later to see Fiyero’s gaze hadn’t wavered from you. 

You frowned. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re awfully prepared,” he said instead. 

“I figured you wouldn’t be,” you responded.

Fiyero’s lips quirked in a smile. “Then I believe that means you deserve to choose our subject.”

Your frown deepened. “Really?”

“Are you always this suspicious of everyone?”

“Just you.”

“Then consider this an olive branch,” he said. He slid the paper back over. “Who’s your top choice?”

“…Ilara Mayfair,” you finally said as you pointed at her on the top of your list. “She was a historical linguist, responsible for half of what we know about Ozian languages and how they connect and differ. She’s…” you cleared your throat and shrugged, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, “she’s kind of my hero.”

“Your hero?” Fiyero’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what you want to do?” 

“…It’s always been my dream,” you admitted. “I grew up helping around my parents’ bookstore and her mark was on nearly everything. I really admire it. I want to make that sort of difference in the world.”

“How noble,” he remarked. What surprised you was how genuine he sounded. “It’s impressive how much of your life you have planned out already. All Galinda knows is that she’s majoring in sorcery—she hasn’t really got anything else worked out.”

“What are you majoring in?” you asked.

“Undecided,” Fiyero said. “I was kicked out of my last school before I could declare, so I figure there’s not really a point in doing it here.”

“Not really a surprise,” you said. 

“Really?”

“On your first day, you snuck off campus with half of Shiz to go dance at Ozdust,” you said. “That’s not exactly a good first impression.” 

“I’d argue the opposite,” he said. Fiyero tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you for a moment. His gaze made you uncomfortably aware of yourself. “I don’t recall seeing you there.” 

“That’s because I wasn’t there.” You looked back down at your encyclopedia to avoid his eyes. “I had more important things to do.” 

He frowned. “Do you ever take a day off?” 

“Of course,” you said. “There isn’t any class on the weekends.” 

“I mean with this,” he said, gesturing at all the books around you. “It doesn’t seem like you allow yourself a single moment of respite. When you’re not in class, you’re studying. When you’re not studying, you’re doing work. When you’re not doing any of it, you’re probably dreaming of your future assignments.” 

You felt your skin heat. Surely you weren’t that transparent. 

“...I don’t dream of them,” you defended. “Not— not always.” 

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. Do you know that?” 

You frowned. “How am I ridiculous? You’re incapable of taking a single thing seriously.” 

“And you’re incapable of not taking everything seriously,” Fiyero said. “It can’t be good for your health.” 

“I plan to get out of here a year early,” you said, looking back at your books. “I can’t slack off like you do if I want that plan to come to fruition.” 

“Oh, I’ve gotten out of every school I’ve been in a year early,” Fiyero said. “Sometimes two or three— Oz, sometimes I don’t even make it through the first semester.” 

Your eyes snapped back up to him, widened in instinctual panic. “What?” 

He burst out laughing, and it grinded every one of your gears. “Oh, I wish you could see the look on your face! It’s priceless— truly priceless!” 

“You’ve been kicked out of every school you’ve been to and you think it’s a joke?” 

Still laughing, he shrugged. “It is. Nothing bad has happened, and I’m still having the time of my life wherever I go.” 

You just shook your head as you stared at him, eyes still wide. “Are you always like this?”

“Utterly charming?” 

“Entirely insufferable.”

You didn’t understand how he laughed. Everything rolled right off him, like oil off a duck’s back, no matter how many times you insulted him. 

“You know, there are other things to life than your studies,” he said.

“Not while I’m here, there isn’t,” you said. “It’s the whole point of university.” 

“The point of university is to have fun,” he said. “You’ve seen how this place has perked up since I’ve gotten here, haven’t you?” 

“Not really, no,” you said. “I’ve been more focused on other things.” 

“Like?” 

“Like my studies.” 

“It’s like I’m talking to a broken record,” he marveled. “Have you ever had fun in your life?” His eyes widened comically. “Do you even know what the concept of fun is?” 

“Ha ha,” you said dryly. 

He tilted his head. “Do you?” 

You frowned. “Of course I do.” 

“Okay, then.” Fiyero leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself.”

Your frown deepened. “We aren’t doing a research paper on me.”

“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Is it a crime to want to know my partner?”

A muscle worked in your jaw as you stared at him. He stared back, entirely unaffected. 

“If I humor you, will you actually work with me through this?”

Fiyero held up his hand. “Prince’s honor.”

Finally, you broke. You folded your arms with a short sigh then glanced away. “Fine. I’m from a tiny village in Gillikin that you’ve probably never heard of. I’m here on scholarship with the plan to graduate, become a historian, and make a name for myself.” You looked back at him. “Is that good enough for you?”

“It’s excellent,” Fiyero said with a smile. “Dare I say I’ve learned more about you in one short day than I have in the entirety of my time at Shiz?”

You gave him a fake smile as you tapped your book. “Open your textbook. We have a lot to catch up on.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask about me?”

“I mean this with all due respect—what could there possibly be to know about you?” You raised an eyebrow as you counted off on your fingers. “You’re from the Vinkus, you’re a prince, and you’ve never read a book a day in your life.” 

“Oh, that’s not true,” he chastised. “I’ve read at least one—I just choose not to.” 

“Well, how about we make that two?” You reached across the table and opened his book for him. “Unless that prince’s honor isn’t worth a thing.” 

“Oh, it’s worth everything,” Fiyero said. 

You raised your eyebrows expectantly. “Then prove it.” 

“Very well,” he nodded. “I believe I can be serious for the next… fifteen minutes.” 

“You won’t even get through a chapter,” you said. “Thirty.” 

Fiyero frowned. “You set awfully high expectations.” 

“Why do you think Doctor Dillamond forced me to help you?” you asked. 

“Because you’re oh so nice and charitable?”

That got a genuine laugh out of you. If you’d been looking closer, you would have seen Fiyero’s smile grow, his eyes soften. 

“Of course. Now, go to the glossary, find Ilara, and start writing. I know practically everything about her already, so you need to catch up.”

“I don’t have—”

You held out your extra notebook and fountain pen and cocked your head. “Don’t have what?”

Fiyero chuckled as he took them from you. “You’re prepared for everything, aren’t you?”

“Always,” you said with a satisfied smile. “Now get reading, my prince.”

He pressed his hand to his chest and bowed his head. “At once, my lady.”

-

You looked at the clock on the wall. Fiyero should have been here by now. 

Granted, he was ten minutes late to your first meeting, but that was before he’d changed your expectations ever so slightly. Almost an hour had passed, and there was still no sign. 

Of course, it wasn’t as if it hindered your progress. You kind of always expected him to fall short—if he showed at all, that was a credit to him—so you already had half the outline done. But a small part of you that you’d never admit to might have actually been looking forward to his presence. 

You enjoyed the bout of verbal sparring he engaged you in. A lot of your classmates thought you were mean, and it never bothered you. Like you told Fiyero, you were here for one reason and one only, and the amount of people that liked you at university didn’t influence that at all. Your professors liked you and your grades were perfect—that was all. 

But you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t… nice. For Fiyero to take everything you said in stride, with a smile and a retort of equal measure.

It was nice. But that was all. 

You were jarred out of your thoughts by someone calling your name. You looked up to see Fiyero sauntering over, bearing his usual smile and not much else.

“This is a library,” you said once he got closer. “You aren’t supposed to shout.”

He took the seat across from you. “I’d hardly call that shouting.”

“You aren’t meant to be loud,” you decided. “Why are you so late?”

Fiyero shrugged. “I lost track of time?”

“You know, we are partners,” you emphasized your last word, “so it would be helpful if you could try to put in the same amount of effort as me.”

“That seems impossible.” He gestured at your notebook with his head, your current page already nearly full. “You’ve got me beat on nearly everything.”

“It’s not that difficult,” you intoned. “I mean, just do some research outside of class.”

He stared at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t know what I expect with you, honestly.”

“Exactly what you see, darling. Now,” Fiyero's gaze drifted over to the window, then looked back at you as he stood up, “what do you say we put a hold on things and enjoy this beautiful day?” 

Your brows furrowed. “What, you mean do our research outside?” 

“Is your work truly all you think about?” he asked in exasperation. “I mean leave the books and your notes and your stress here, and take a stroll around campus.” 

“I’ve had my entire life planned out since I was ten years old,” you said. “Of course it is. I am not going to have some— some—”

“Some what?” Fiyero interrupted. He still looked remarkably unaffected by your outburst, that sideways smile of his infuriatingly charming. 

“Some ridiculous, pompous, self-absorbed, lazy Winkie prince ruin it!” you exclaimed. 

“Lazy,” he mused. “That’s a new one.” 

“Of course you’re lazy! Why would we take a break when we have a project to do?” 

Fiyero looked at you like you were crazy— no, like he was worried about you. He shook his head. “You really do have a one track mind.” 

“When we’re in midterm season, yes, I d— what are you doing?”

Fiyero had started stacking all of the books you had on the table away from you, then he grabbed your notebook and your pen out of your hand.

“You need a break,” he said. 

“I don’t need a break, and give that back—”

You reached for your materials but only just grazed his hand before he pulled them back and set them on top of the pile. “When was the last time you saw the sun?” 

You scoffed. “I see the sun all the time.” 

“Not from a window in the library or your dorm.” 

You bit your tongue. Fiyero smiled and held out his hand. 

“You need a break.” 

You stared at his hand. He gave you a cloying look. 

“It’s not a good sign that you’re this against self-care,” he said wryly. 

You sighed and reluctantly placed your hand in his. “Fine.”

Fiyero grinned and he pulled you close. You yelped at the unexpected speed and you tumbled into his chest. Fiyero’s hand dropped to your waist, and for a moment all you could do was stare at him, wide eyed. 

“Shall we?” he murmured. 

You jolted away from him once you came back into yourself, your skin burning where he’d touched you. 

“We shall,” you said, a bit too forcefully as you started walking a bit too fast. 

Fiyero chuckled. He matched your pace easily, soon coming up beside you. “You’re already that excited?”

“Oh, shut up,” you bit out. “You’ve already gotten what you want. No need for more.”

He feigned naivety. “What would I possibly be doing?”

You shook your head with a huff. “I’m not entertaining that with a response.”

Fiyero simply hummed. You glanced over at him, still staying even with you, and then you let out another huff as you stopped. He didn’t miss a beat, pausing at the same time as you, then met your flustered expression with a smile. 

“Yes?”

“You’re the one that wanted to do this,” you said, gesturing in front of you with a hand. “So lead the way.”

“Gladly,” he said. “I’m very good at taking the lead.”

Fiyero started walking and, though you had half a mind to take the opportunity and dart back to the library, you found yourself following him. 

Cora’s words spun around your head as you and Fiyero walked together, about him turning the full force of his flirting on you in return for you being such a stickler for your midterm. 

That was the embarrassing thing; you didn’t even think this was half of it, and he already had you blushing—and for what? It was as if you’d never even talked to a boy before. 

You’d had plenty of experience back home. Village boys coming into your parents’ store to flirt at you, leaving notes in your desk in class, offering to walk you home at night—plenty of experience. 

It didn’t matter that you denied them all and never went anywhere because you had a one track mind even then, and that Fiyero had done what no one else had and gotten you take a break simply because he asked nicely—

You sucked in a sharp breath as Fiyero’s arm suddenly pressed against your chest, stopping you in place. Your head snapped up to look at him, mouth already open with questions loaded, but he gestured with his head before you could ask any of them. 

You’d nearly barreled right down the stairs from being lost in your head, without care nor consideration for actually taking the steps. 

“Mind the gap, darling,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you damaging that brain of yours.”

“…Thank you,” you said once you’d regained the ability to speak words again. “One of us ought to have one.”

Fiyero laughed as he took his arm away. “Certainly.” He used it to gesture down the stairs. “Ladies first—unless you’re unsure of your ability to conquer them.”

“I’ll be just fine, Fiyero.” You started the descent, Fiyero right behind you, and you let out another short sigh. 

There had to be something wrong with you. That was the only explanation for why you were acting this way.

Maybe you really did need to start getting more sleep. 

[chiumii]

bathroom ~ heeseung x reader

ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 희��� ] ☆ an argument sparked between you and your lover before a party. in anger, you told him you weren't going to be going anymore. an hour into the party, you show up looking unbelievable, making Heeseung go absolutely insane.

word count; 4k

dom Heeseung x sub reader. established relationship, jealousy, public sex, mentions of alcohol and weed, degrading, gagging, praise, oral, smacking. not proof read.

"what the fuck Heeseung?" you angrily curse at your boyfriend, feeling rage boil through your veins. he rolls his eyes at you, watching your figure pace across the room as he sits down on the couch, listening to your rambles.

"I asked you to help me clean the apartment while I was gone doing errands. you didn't even get up off your game once." you glare at him. this passed week, school was stressing you the fuck out. exam after exam was piling up on your plate on top of an essay you were supposed to be writing. it also didn't help that you had to go grocery shopping sometime during the week and help your best friend plan a get together for her birthday party. everything was stressing you out and all you wanted was a little help from your boyfriend. you had asked him to clean the small apartment the two of you shared before you went out for the day at 11 am. you had arrived back to the house with groceries and birthday gifts at 5 pm, expecting the house to be at least a little picked up.

"I was gone for six hours, Heeseung, and you couldnt even put the dishes away?" you scoff at him, seeing guilt and anger arise in his body language as he shifts on the couch, eyeballing you from across the room.

"y/n, im sorry, okay? I was doing homework and other shit that it completely spaced my mind, I'll clean it tomorrow" he says to you, making your jaw clench as you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest with a sigh.

"I wanted it done today so that we wouldn't have to do anything tomorrow, especially since were supposed to be going to Jay's party tonight." you take his silence as a queue to continue, staring into his eyes.

"im piled up to my neck with bullshit, all I wanted was your help and I can't even get that from you." you roll your eyes at him, beginning to walk into the kitchen. his eyes follow you, instantly standing up and following your figure.

"what are you doing? we're leaving soon?" he asks as you begin to put the dishes away, not even turning to face him.

"i'm not going to the stupid fucking party Heeseung, i'm cleaning the apartment since somebody can't" you snap at your boyfriend, turning around to put away a couple pots, completely ignoring his tall figure as he stands in the middle of the kitchen looking at you.

"so you're just gonna stay home and mope around because I didn't clean?" you turn around, glaring daggers at him at his words, your growing anger turning into rage.

"its not even that messy, y/n. I dont understand why you're so mad, lets just go-"

"if you can't understand why i'm upset, then you really need to check yourself, Heeseung. if its 'not that messy' then why didn't you clean it when I asked you to?"

"oh my god can you please stop nagging at me, I already told you its because I was doing homework so I just spaced it" you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before you blow up at him.

"you can leave. i'll see you when you get home." is all you say before walking out of the kitchen and into your shared bedroom, leaving the conversation before one of you says something you might regret. Heeseung stares at the bedroom door, but decides to slip his shoes on. he knows that when the two of you get into arguments, that you often need space to cool down and to get distance away from each other so that you dont say anything you really don't mean.

Heeseung slips through the front door, locking it behind him as he heads to jays house, promising himself that he would stay sober.

you hear the front door close and you start to look around the room, your eyes landing on the clock by your bedside table. it read 5:45 pm, the party starts in fifteen minutes and you wonder to yourself how long Heeseung would be gone for.

you sigh out into nothingness, having an internal war with yourself before looking into the closet, your eyes landing on a deep purple dress. its short and made out of lace and satin. suddenly, an idea pops up in your mind and before you can think; you grab the dress and walk into the bathroom.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Heeseung, where is y/n?" sunghoon asks him, looking around the buzzing living room in search of your familiar figure. Heeseung takes another glance at his phone for the fifth time in three minutes, looking to see if you've texted him. sunghoon takes a seat next him, a red cup in his hands.

"she wasn't feeling good so she stayed home" Heeseung answers shortly, guilt starting to eat away at him from the argument that took place earlier.

"shit, that sucks, I hope she feels better" sunghoon says, taking a sip of his drink.

you walk into the house, music vibrating the floor as sweaty bodies stick to each other, the smell of alcohol and weed clouds your senses as you walk further into the house, making you way into the kitchen. you see one of your best girl friends, walking up to her. her eyes catch yours as she squeals, running up to you and attacking you in a hug. she smells like alcohol, and her sluggish actions give away the fact that she's drunk.

"hey beautiful, I didn't think that you were here" she says, slurring her words.

"I saw Heeseung earlier but you weren't with him so I just thought you weren't gonna show up" she rambles and you giggle. the mention of your boyfriends name makes you smile a little despite the argument you had before. you look around the kitchen and notice all the different varieties of alcohol organized on the counter. you walk over and look at all the different kinds.

you grab a red cup, walking back over to the alcohol and grabbing raspberry vodka and pouring it in your cup along. your best friend looks at you, questioning looks seep out of her eyes. she knows you hardly ever drink, so something must have happened. you smile at her reassuringly before throwing your head back, the alcohol burning your throat in the best way possible as your face scrunches up.

she walks over to you, pouring herself another shot as she giggles.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

your best friend and you are walking around as she checks out a few guys, talking to a few people she knows with you attached to her hip. she's a social butterfly, her wings flapping and her entanas buzzing whenever she's in a social setting such as this one. she's formed a small circle around herself, talking everybody's ear off.

you're standing next to her in silence, feeling someones eyes burning into you. you lift your eyes away from her talking mouth, finding one of heeseungs friends; Jake you think, staring at you. as a friendly gesture; you smile at him.

Jake returns your smile and makes his way up to you, deciding to perch himself next to you as he begins speaking.

"where's you boyfriend" he asks, you bite your lower lip, the feeling of anger and giddiness spreading through your body at the mention of him.

"don't know, don't care." is what you settle on, looking up at Jake as the group that your best friend formed begins to fade away, your back sinking into the wall as your conversation with Jake begins to flow.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"dude, Heeseung, I saw y/n just now" sunghoon says, sitting back on the couch next to him. heeseungs eyes snap onto sunghoon, not believing his words.

"what? that's impossible" Heeseung denies, checking his phone to see if you texted him: nothing. his jaw clicks as his eyes scan the area, not finding your figure anywhere.

"she was talking with Jake somewhere near the kitchen. her face was really red and Jake was standing super close to her" sunghoon warns, unknowingly fueling the fire in the pit of heeseungs stomach. Heeseung stands up off the couch, disappearing into the messy pile of bodies in search of one in particular.

"What?" you say to Jake, squinting your eyes, not quite hearing him over the loudness of the music blaring through the speakers.

"I said let's go outside" Jake leans down to your ear, his hair brushing against your cheek as he speaks. you turn your head to the side with a nod, walking in the direction of the sliding glass doors that lead outside by the pool.

Heeseung catches a glimpse of your hair and figure, but looses you just as quick as you came. his eyes dart around, looking for that familiar scent of the perfume you wear and your hair color. no matter how hard he tries, he just can't find you.

"I mean he is hardheaded sometimes, but I'll stick behind him no matter what" Jake tells you, taking another sip of whatever he has in his cup. you nod your head, finishing your drink as your nose scrunches up. the two of you are talking about Heeseung, and how hardheaded he can be sometimes, but you love him regardless. you wanted to show up to the party and surprise him, but a part of you is also hard headed, so you're not going out of your way to find him, when the timing is right, you'll find each other.

You catch Jake staring at you, his eyes slightly red. you look back, questioning him.

"what?" you ask, as he leans on the wall next to you, eyeballing you up and down. you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

"with all due respect for Heeseung, you are absolutely gorgeous, y/n" you knew Jake well enough that he wouldn't make any moves on you while in a relationship with his best friend, his brother, but that still didn't stop him from speaking the truth.

"Heeseung is one lucky man" speak of the devil, the man himself grips your wrist, flipping you around and clenching his jaw.

"h-hee!" you say in surprise. his grip on your wrist is tight and it has you looking down at your hand.

"I am one lucky man. lets go y/n" your boyfriend says to you, dragging you back in the hot house. your eyes don't leave the back of his head as he pulls you through the sea of bodies. your eyes catch glimpse of the front door, but before you are able to reach it, Heeseung pulls you down a hallway.

"what the hell Heeseung!" you say, but he doesn't respond or turn around. he opens a door and throws you inside. its a white bathroom with a big sink, a huge mirror complimenting the wall above it. Heeseung comes inside the room and locks the door behind him, spinning around to face you. your cheeks heat up at the expression on his face. his lips are tugged between his teeth as his eyes rack down your figure.

Heeseung's mind is going a million miles a minute. the god awful tiny dress you're wearing is driving him up the wall. it barely covers an inch of your body and it infuriates him that Jake saw just about every part of you that belonged to him.

"you shouldn't have came, y/n." he says under his breath as he stalks towards you, his hands coming down to unclip his belt. you shudder at the sound, arousal already pooling in your panties.

"why is that?" you question, already knowing the answer.

"come on sweetheart, you can't be that stupid, hm?" he throws his belt on the floor behind you. jealousy pricks at the tip of his tongue, your eyes looking directly into his.

"you didn't tell me you were showing up, but when I find out you do, you're standing two fucking inches away from my best friend as he basically confesses he wants to fuck you" his hand caresses your cheek as you look up at him through your eyelashes. his fingers move to entangle in your hair, feeling your silky locks as you shake your head.

"hee.. that's not-" his hands pull your hair back, your head arching as he pulls you into his body. he looks down at you, venom laced in his tone as he speaks.

"you think Jake can fuck you as good as be, huh? did he get your pussy wet as much as I do?" his other hand comes up and below your purple dress, moaning as heeseungs fingers come in contact with the flimsy fabric of your panties. he chuckles as he lowers his head so his breath fans your lips, his brushing over yours as he continues

"you're fucking filthy." he forces you down onto your knees, and the way your thighs clamp together tells him everything he needs to know. his hands pull down his pants, the tent in his boxers prominent and aching.

you look up, your mouth watering and your eyes begging. your hands find the waistband of his boxers and you breath out heavily, your head feeling light as Heeseung grips your chin inbetween his fingers.

"suck it." his command is cold and you obey; pulling down his boxers as his cock springs free, half hard and already fucking huge. you gulp, no matter how many times you suck his cock, you're never prepared for how badly your throat stings afterwards. you spit into your palm before taking his tip into your hand, your fingers playing with his slit before pumping him slightly. you feel him begin to grow in your palm as you kitten lick his tip, your hand coming down to massage his balls.

you hear your boyfriend his above you, you take this opportunity and take his head into your mouth, your warm tongue swirling around his tip as you hallow your cheeks, beginning to suck him off. your boyfriend moves his hand to the back of your head, his fingers entangling in your hair as he groans, his Adams apple bobbing up and down as he swallows.

you begin bobbing your head up and down his length faster, saliva spilling down your cheeks as you whine around his size, looking up at him through watery eyes as your feel your knees begin to sting.

he looks down into your glossy eyes, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

"taking me so well, wanna take my cum, sweet angel?" you nod your head moaning out a choked yes please as he chuckles at your desperation. the hand on the back of your head pushes you down his shaft, forcing you to deep throat him. his swollen tip hits the back of your throat as he begins to thrust his hips in your face, but not too fast. you breathe in through your nose, trying your best to keep your cheeks sucked in and hallow as he begins to fuck your face. your hands come up to grip his thighs, keeping yourself stable.

his cock twitches in your mouth and you swallow around him, throwing Heeseung off the edge as his hips still in your face, his cock pressing up against the back of your throat as he shoots warm, sticky white ropes of cum down your throat. your eyes close as more tears fall freely down your pink cheeks.

Heeseung looks down at you as he pulls his cock out of your mouth. you swallow all his salty seed, a couple pearly drops fall down your chin and out of the corners of your mouth. your fucked out expression has him grabbing under your arms and forcing you to your feet. you wrap your arms around his neck as he lifts you onto the counter of the sink, your hands entangle in his hair as he pushes his body into your core.

"h-hee.. please. need- need you please" your begs are just above a whisper, his hands trailing up your thighs to the hem of your underwear. his face comes down to your neck, leaving wet kisses on your skin as your heat grinds down on his still-hard dick, whimpering at the small amount of friction he's gifting you.

"you want it baby, yeah?" he teases, one of his hands coming to feel your damp panties. he hisses at your arousal, your folds unbelievably wet as he traces a finger up and down your clothed slit. Heeseung grabs your underwear, pulling it back and then releasing it as it smacks against your pussy. you jump in his hold, more whines spilling from your lips as he chuckles into your skin.

his fingers pull your panties to the side, his thumb pressing up against your clit as you moan at the feeling, finally getting the friction you so desperately craved. his fingers massage through your wet folds, collecting your slick before one of his long fingers prods at your fluttering hole, begging for your boyfriend to touch you.

"please" you plea, your face coming to bury itself in heeseungs next, your breath fanning your skin. his finger slides in with ease, stretching you slightly as your warm walls squeeze his digit. you shudder at the feeling, a small whimper leaving your mouth as your fingers dig into your lovers back. Heeseung kisses your temple before beginning to pump you, his long finger curling in and out of your sopping cunt in a squelching noise.

one of your hands moves to grip is hair as the other stays wrapped around his back. heeseungs free hand moves from your thigh, trailing upwards to the small of your back, caressing and rubbing you through your thin dress, holding you as close to his body as possible. your moans pick up volume as he adds a second finger, curling upwards and slightly grazing your sweet spot. your legs jolt and you inhale sharply. your mind feels fuzzy as Heeseung splits you apart on his fingers, his thumb rubbing slow, concentrated circles on your clit to help ease you up.

"h-hee.. hmm a-ah" you moan his name, your body beginning to shake. he brings his head down to your ear, his breath fanning you as he speaks

"tell me all about it beautiful" you whine in response, your fingers tugging at his locks harshly now, your orgasm approaching quickly. your hold around him tightens as your legs begin to shake. Heeseung looks at himself through the mirror, his eyes finding the back of your figure and he can't help but admire you, even without seeing your face. you turn your head, Heeseung mimicking your actions as you slam into each other, your lips meeting his in a sloppy, wet kiss.

heeseungs fingers curl inside you again, massaging your g-spot and you buck your hips forward, moans loud and needy as your orgasm snaps, cumming all over heeseungs fingers. you grind your hips into his hand, riding out your high. heeseungs mouth moves against yours hungrily, biting your bottom lip before he parts. you go to whine in protest but stop yourself when he quickly forces your panties down and below your ankles.

before you can say anything, he balls up your underwear and shoves them in your mouth. he hikes your dress up and over your hips, your dripping pussy on full desplay as he takes his cock in his hand and bullies his way inside your walls. your eyes widen as he does so, a choked moan attempting to escape your mouth. he can't wait anymore, remembering the way Jake was looking at you in your tiny little dress, your breasts on full display. his anger begins to rise again, his hips beginning to move against yours at a quick pace

"gonna fuck this pussy until you know who you belong to, understood?" he slaps your puffy cunt, earning a muffled squeal from you as your arms wrap around him again, holding his body close to yours. you curl into your boyfriend, your pussy fluttering around his cock as it kisses your g-spot repeatedly, tiny babbles and whines leaving your lips.

his fingers work at your clit as his hips snap against yours, your legs shaking in his hold as goosebumps trail from your thigh, up to your hip where Heeseung ghosts his fingertips, holding you in place.

your muffled cries eg him on further, an idea striking in his mind. he pulls out of you, dragging you off the sink and spinning you around, forcing you to bend over the counter.

"spread you legs for me, pretty" you happily listen, your soiled panties still gagging you. he pushes himself into your wet, swollen pussy, your eyes roll in the back of your skull as he begins to thrust into you from behind, hitting all your right places at a much deeper angle. your ass jiggles each time his hips meet your behind, your back arched in a perfect slope.

Heeseung slaps your ass, roughly, causing a squeal to erupt from the back of your throat, your walls clenching his dick as if you're trying to milk him.

"oh fuck-" your boyfriend says in a raspy tone. the way your ass bounces with each of his thrusts mixed with the way your muffled whimpers and moans sound, it starts driving Heeseung up the wall as he smacks the plush of your ass again. your head dips down, falling onto your forearms that rest on the counter.

Heeseung grips your hair, forcing your body up into an arch as your eyes fly open, looking at the scene unfolding in the mirror. Heeseung moves his face to your neck, sucking sweet purple marks into your skin that match the color of your dress.

"look at you baby, taking my cock so well, such a good girl hmm?" he slaps your ass again, your eyes closing slightly as you hiss. your look at yourself through half lidded, fucked out eyes. your legs are apart and your dress his hiked up, heeseungs dick splitting you open as he fucks you from behind, deep, purple hickeys litter your soft skin and one of your breasts fell out of your dress.

"pussy's mine... all. fucking. mine." he thrusts inbetween each word, your juices gushing out of your spazzaming hole and down your thighs onto the counter.

"he-hee please !" your panties fall out of your mouth, your loud moans echoing off the chambers of the bathroom and fill heeseungs ears.

"such a messy girl.. you think you deserve to be stuffed full of my cum, sweetheart? wanna take all of it like the fucking slut you are?" his hand detangles from your hair to grip your throat, giving it a light squeeze as a threat... or a promise? either one has your knees buckling below you.

"y-yes please, wan' u're cum please" you chant, the pit of your abdomen feeling unbelievably tight as you feel your orgasm about to wash over you.

"cum all over me sweetheart, make a fucking mess all over me, I've got you" he coaxes you to your orgasm, the rope in your stomach snapping as you arch your back into him, a loud squeal drips of your tongue as you cum all over him. heeseungs thrusts halt, his hips stilling against your ass as he buries his face in your neck, shooting white ropes of cum deep inside you.

it takes a minute for the both of you to calm down, your boyfriend pulling his cock out of you. your guys's mixed cum drips down your leg, running down your thighs. Heeseung laughs before grabbing some toilet paper, turning you around and hoisting you onto the counter to clean you off.

you wrap your arms around his frame, hugging him as you kiss every inch of his face

"I love you, hee" you say as he pulls away from you, throwing the cum-stained toilet paper in the trash. he looks at you, placing his veiny hands on your thighs, rubbing soft shapes into your skin.

"I love you, beautiful" he responds, cupping your face in his palm before leaning in to place a warm kiss on your lips. he helps you hop off the counter, unlocking the door.

"hey wait, my panties!" you laugh at him as he stuffs them in his pocket, smirking down at you. he opens the door and gestures for you to exit first. you huff at him and walk out, praying nobody sees anything. you gasp as Heeseung lands a smack to your ass as you walk in front of him out of the room.

"hee!" you smile as you look behind you and at your boyfriend.

"I love youuu"