#and i had to beg her to change it bc it made me so uncomfortable that she kept just taking over these little yhinga o liked

[alltheglowingeyess]

some people go through life with such unwarranted confidence i can't even imagine 😭😭

[jyoongim]

THE WAY U WRITE THE OLD RED DEMON MAN IS JUST SO NEKEKDKEOWB

Might I just add onto the seemingly continuous alastor requests. I'd love to see Alastor x Reader where reader is in heat and Al finds it pathetic but takes pity on them and helps anyway bc like poor thing can't even get their own instincts in control they're obviously hopeless

warnings: 18+!!!NSFW

You thought when you died you would be rid of hormones.

Periods were a pain while living, but this is was worst.

When you were alive, your periods plagued you with mood swings, random cravings, and pain.

Now that you were dead, you didn’t experience the dreadful red flood and raging mood swings; no. Now all you felt was unbelievably horny and needy.

And you hated it.

You usually carried yourself with confidence and elegance.

You usually liked to help around the hotel and were generally friendly with everyone.

You grimaced as you woke up to feel just how drenched your panties were. I really need to stock up on new underwear you thought as you tossed the ruined panties into the hamper.

You usually spent your heats alone and could hide in a hole until you felt normal again. You usually could control yourself well enough til you had enough free time to ease the tension between your legs.

Or until you found a poor sinner.

Weeeeellll that was hard when you lived in a hotel with a ton of shit to do. You really didn’t want to hear Angel’s jabs as you dragged some unfortunate soul to endear your sex rage.

You sighed, hopefully you could get through the next few days without embarrassing yourself completely.

So far so good you thought as you went about your day doing whatever activity Charlie had you do with the group.

Every touch and scent didn’t send your cunt into a tingling frenzy; yes you had to change your panties a few times but nothing crazy.

That was until you were around Alastor.

Your body practically buzzed whenever the tall red demon was in your vicinity.

You first chalked it up to that it was because you did found him attractive and simply thought it would go away.

But your cunt begged a differ.

You squirmed a bit on the couch as Alastor took a seat beside you, clenching your thighs to ease the uncomfortable throbbing.

It didn’t help that he smelled amazing.

Alastor smelled like evergreens how y’all ever smelled Christmas pine??? That shit is delicious!!!!

And you didn’t realized you had took a deep inhale of him until he turned to you

”Is everything alright my dear?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

fuck how were you going to tell him you wanted to bury your nose into his neck and just SNIFF? 

“O-oh I’m f-fine…i-its just you smelled nice?” You wanted to facepalm.

He blinked at you before letting out a laugh “OOooh why thank you my dear” that shit eating grin widened, voice dropping a slight octave“I must smell very enticing if you’re sniffing at me” his eyes narrowed slightly.

A shiver ran through your body and you swear you were leaking through onto the couch. You wanted to die of embarrassment.

“I-I just never noticed before that’s all” You said shrugging, trying to ignore the fact that his very voice was affecting you.

Charlie had ended whatever the hell you were doing and you quickly made your way to your room, causing some confusion.

You were usually a social butterfly with the gang. You never not chat away with Angel as he told the wild shit he did on set.

“Has got to be that time of the month” Angel commented as you almost sprinted out the room. Charlie and Vaggie gave confused looks ”what?” He sighed “You know…” nope not a clue.

”She was a human remember? Every so often her pussy basically shreds itself to bits”

Charlie gasped “So she’s hurt? Shouldn’t we do something?” Angel laughed,shaking his head “Nah we can’t help. But she'll be fine. Just give her a few days and she'll be normal again”

Alastor was in the background listening, the smile on his face sharpened, you weren’t hurt or bleeding, but there was definitely something that could be done.

You snarled as your vibrator died and tossed it. You groaned as your clit continued to throb. You had thought four orgasms would have did the trick but nope you still had the irritating itch.

You didn’t own a dildo because it was pointless.

it wasn’t the real thing.

You wanted to cry. This was your first heat while you’ve been at the hotel and you didn’t just want to drag a stranger here.

You had more control than that.

At least that’s what you thought.

You had locked yourself in your room as you tore your room to bits. The walls were shredded, pillows and sheets drenched in slick and your poor toy was in pieces.

Panting, you curled in a corner and tugged at your hair, squeezing your eyes tight as tears began to pool in your eyes.

You hated this.

 You hated how it felt like you didn’t even feel like yourself. 

Hated that you couldn’t even control your own damn bodily function.

Hated how your body desperately wanted to be filled.

You would give anything to make this horrid feat of yours go away.

“I would have never thought to see you in such a state my dear”

You froze at the voice and jerked your head to the source.

Alastor.

He was standing at the entrance of your bedroom, a smirk on his face as he took in the state of your room.

”I must say, it. Is rather entertaining to see your lack of control” he said as he approached your curled form.

He crouched down, feigning a concerned look before a clawed hand seized your hair and wrenched your face til your noses were bumping against each other.

”did you think I couldn’t smell you?” He growled “You smell just like a bitch in heat”

You whimpered as his lips ghosted over yours “I-I’m sorry”

His scent was surrounding you. It was a drug. Assaulting your every nerve with each breath you took.

He smelled so good 

please

”Please” you whispered as your cunt buzzed, tingling from his clos proximity and in hopes he would have mercy on you.

Alastor sucked his teeth at you. What a pitiful thing you were…

With a deep breathe, he stood and walked over to your ruined bed and sat. You watched as he sat his mic down and removed his coat. Yanking at his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt and looked over at you with narrowed eyes “Well? Do you want to continue to ruin your furnishings or do you wish to satisfy that brazen desire of yours?”

He widened his legs and your eyes honed in on how he unbuckled his pants.

Your throat tightened and you found yourself crawling over to him, no regard that you were naked.

Kneeling between his legs, your hands soothed up his thighs as your rubbed your head against his crotch.

Alastor lifted your chin for your eyes to meet his. Your eyes were blown out and you winced as his grip tightened.

”I pity you my dear, reduced to wanton whore, but don’t fret…Ill help you through your heat” a thumb ran over your pouty lip.

Your cunt clenched around nothing at his words.

You damn near drooled as he adjusted himself to pull his cock free from its restraints.

It was big, in both length and girth. It slapped against your face, causing you to hum at the weight of it.

You nuzzled it, nose gliding along his length before softly pressing kissed along it. When you came to his mushroom tip, you didn’t hesitate to suck at it. Alastor sighed as you gave the head of his cock kitten licks.

Head clouded with desire, you slowly bobbed your head along his length, taking him whole as you gagged once you reached the hilt.

You eased him out your throat and with a sickening pop, you admired as his spit-covered cock shined. You opted to jerk him off slowly as you buried your nose in his ball, inhaling his scent.

Alastor’s hand found your hair and guided you away from his cock, bringing you to climb up his body, until your smoldering heat was rubbing against his cock as he pressed kisses to your shoulder and neck. A gasp tore from your throat as he nipped at your jaw.

”On fours my dear”

Clumsily, you scrambled to follow his instruction. You must not have been to his liking because he pressed your head til your cheek was flat to the bed, back in a deep low arch, thighs pressed to your stomach and spreaded wide with your ass and cunt exposed to the air. 

You would have blushed in embarrassment if you weren’t so turned on.

A hand glided down your back, causing you to shiver and then jolt as a harsh slap was planted on your ass, before it soothed over the burning cheek.

Alastor kneaded your ass before sliding his fingers down to your cunt.

Your slit was swollen and your clit, puffy with need. 

You were dripping.

He dipped a finger inside you, testing how wet you were.

Soppy. 

He added a second, your cunt greedily welcomed his fingers with ease, giving into resistance.

He chuckled “What a greedy cunt, sucking in my fingers like a cock”

You whined when he took his fingers out, already missing the feel of something inside you.

Alastor took his cock and rubbed it against your cunt, coating himself in your slick.

”I am going to fuck you to your little sinful heart desires and you are going to be grateful of everything I give you. You are going to take every bit of my cum until it spills from this cunt and then again and again until I have bred you so thoroughly. Do you understand slut?”

You were breathing heavily, trembling in excitement.

With a single, sharp thrust he filled your cunt, earning a soft cry from you.

”Do you understand?”he hissed through clenched teeth.

”Y-Yes A-Alastor”. you whimpered, eyes clenched shut in pleasure.

”Good girl”

He drew back and thrusted into you again

And again

And again

He had set a slow, but rough pace. Thrusting his cock deep into the soft warmth of your cunt with each drag.

Soft moans filled the air as he buried his cock inside you.

It felt so good. 

He reached depths your finger couldn’t quite reach.

And it was amazing.

”A-Ala-stor Aah! Aaah! Hah!” You pushed your hips against his, mewling loudly as he grinned his cock into you.

”Youre pathetic ” He laughed, eyes watching his cock disappeared inside you, giving you a hard thrust at his words.

”Nothing but pathetic slut who can’t control their own body”

His grip on your hips pulled you flushed against him, making you take him til his balls was nestled against your slit.

”You probably would have spreaded your legs for any poor sinner, just wanting to be fucked dumb” Your body rippled as his thrusts got harder.

Your cunt only got wetter.

He noticed as he seemed to sink even deeper into you, as if your cunt loosened to welcome him

”oh? I bet you would have liked that wouldn’t you? So out of sorts with need that you would have just anyone bred this cunt”

He growled at the squelching noises from your cunt, you shook your head in denial.

No. No you wouldn’t haven’t done something like that.

”N-no I-I wouldn’t-” You cried out as his finger ghosted over your swollen clit.

”You would have been happy to bend over and offer your cunt to anyone, as long as you had a cock fill you” Alastor continued before a cruel, deep laugh erupted from him

”But instead you sought me out. I had no intention in satisfying you, but what a gentleman would i had been if I ignored a lady in need?” You felt him lean over, hips never missing a beat as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

”Oooh how fortunate you are my dear”

You were suddenly flipped onto your back. Hair sprawled around you like a halo, your chest heaving as he pushed your knees to your chin. 

Your lidded eyes watching as he slide his cock between your pussy lips, bumping your clit. He grabbed your wrists, using them as leverage as he thrusted back into you, the new angle making your throw your head back with a broken cry

”FuuuuuUccckk Ah Ah AH!” His hips dug into the underside of your ass as he pounded your cunt.

Alastor hadn’t lost composure the entire time he fucked you.

He watched as you fell apart, your hips wiggling to accommodate to his harsh administrations.

Your cunt took him so good. A white, creamy ring formed at his base as he scraped against that sponges nerve inside you.

You welcomed him gratefully. Letting him wrench pleasurable sounds from your pretty lips.

Pushing your raised legs apart, he lowered his weight on you as he slammed his lips on yours, swallowing your moans. Your tongues danced as he rocked into your body.

The sounds of him ruining your cunt pushed him to fulfill your primal desire.

You felt that familiar blaze of heat take over your body as Alastor fucked short rapid thrusts into you.

Every brush of his abdomen against your clit had your cunt going haywire.

You were going to cum.

Alastor was going to make you cum.

You moaned at the thought

You were gonna cum on his cock

And he was gonna breed you

Breed your soppy cunt

and you were going to let him

”please….” You whined into his mouth

Fuck the very thought had your body buzzing.

”please what?” he purred

Your head was reeling, foggy with the need to be filled.

A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing

“What are you begging me for slut? Hmm?” His strokes were hitting harder and deeper.

”You want me to breed your cunt? You want to me to fill you up so good that all you’ll ever think is how my cum belongs inside you? What do the little slut want?”

Yes you wanted all of it.

You wanted him to fuck you so good, you wouldn’t even think of wanting another cock from his.

You wanted him to fill your cunt to the brim and then fuck it back inside.

You wanted him to breed you like the little slut you were.

To breed you til he had his fill.

Your instincts had practically took over, fuck sanity.

”Mhmm! I want it. I want you to Ah! I want you to fill me with your cum! Please please breed me Alastor” You whined, feeling your belly clench as your orgasm hung over you, promising sweet relief.

The hand around your throat, tightened causing you to gasp as he spoke into your ear, voice deep and purring

”Youre gonna make yourself cum on my cock slut”

your hand flew to your clit to flick fast circles on the bud.

Alastor’s thrusts quickened, growls pouring from his lips

”Who’s a filthy little slut?”

”M-Me”

”Whos a pathetic slut that’s gonna take my cum?”

”Me!”

”Fucking slut gonna let be breed her dumb”

A sob tore from you as your orgasm washed over you, he fucked you as you milked him, hips angled to thrusts so deep you’re sure your cunt had molded into the shape of his cock

”hah hah aaah fuuucckk fuck fuck Al-Alastor!”

You saw white as your mouth opened in a silent scream only for him to swallow the whine in your throat.

”That’s it you pathetic slut take it. Take my cum. That’s a good girl. Let me breed this sweet cunt cher” your hips raised as he sunk into you and with a deep groan, he cummed into your spasming cunt, making sure to thrust deep enough he hit your cervix as he painted your walls white.

Whether conscious or by instinct, you gave him a ditzy smile, eyes glazed over as you slowly rubbed your clit, whimpering. Holding eye contact with him, a soft pout graced your lips

“Again”

You truly were a pathetic, needy little thing.

But don’t worry pretty Doe, Alastor’s going to make sure you

satisfied and stuffed to your heart’s content

 It was going to be very interesting for the next 36 hours…

@markster666 @alastorsfawn @senseichaos @alastoralltruist @dasimp777 @imgonnadielaughing-blog @thewinchestah @strawberrypimp666 @tpks @stygianoir @polytheatrix @prosciuttosblog @angelltheninth @peachedtv @yourdoorisunlocked @kiralaufeyson84

[hoseoksluna]

A CELEBRATION OF 2K FOLLOWERS — PLEASANT, GOOD AND MERCIFUL | jjk

pairing: non-idol!boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader 

genre: smut, angst, fluff — the whole package

word count: 8.9k

summary: jungkook wanted to make the night better for you—but what he didn't expect is that he would come across his true, unabashed self while doing so.

taglist: join | cp: wattpad, ao3

warnings: jungkook, physical violence, jungkook is wearing that mesh top and that exact outfit (god, help me) and he's horny (god, help me again), abandonment issues, dissociation, panic mode, fear, swear words, dom/sub dynamics, protected sex, oral sex (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat:), teasing, pda, jungkook smokes and jungkook uses his busan accent (you have been warned), religion, praying, anxiety, hyper-independence, trust issues, begging, a little bit of a praise kink — barely, cowgirl:).

note: because we hit 2k incredible followers, i prepared this for you, my babies. a full fucking package of drama, smut, angst and fluff—all from jungkook's own pov!!!!! this is all for you bc i love you sm. thank you, guys, so much for being here with me, sticking around and reading my stupid fics. enjoy this one shot and let me know what you think. i'm sending you so many kisses until you get sick of me. seriously. i won't stop. i love you. MWAHMWAHMWAHMWAHMHWA.

It is a lucid dream, really, the way the lustrous colors of the fireworks bloom across the charcoal sky. They intertwine with the darkened clouds, like vines of wild flowers, that try and fail to remain hidden and Jungkook thinks you burst with even richer, emotive colors. 

With your kaleidoscopic glitter on the high points of your cheeks, and the tiny stars that you stuck on each arch of your brow. 

He can feel the vibration of the deep bass, belonging to the music, coursing down your chest as he stands behind you, drifting his hands down the upper half of your body while the rest of the strangers are hypnotized by the rapper on stage that he has very little knowledge of. The reason why he paid for the tickets, pumped a full tank of gas, drove you all the way to the countryside outside of the normality of your daily life and never let go of your hand—despite the fact they grew uncomfortably clammy due to the stifling heat—was because you loved the man. The vulgar headliner, whose lyrics nearly made his eyes fall out of his sockets once he fully and consciously listened to the songs that you always sing when you do your makeup or hum at random times when you’re doing your own thing. 

And what’s worse, it made his dick hard when he heard you scream out the swear words and the filthy imagery painted in the vivaciousness of the songs.

You, who scarcely cursed. 

Who omitted the vulgarity when rapping along. 

He doesn’t think he ever caught those words coming out of your mouth. Not even when he was balls-deep in you. 

Multiple times. 

It had only been four months ago when he found you and his long silent heart gained your voice. It was the sweetest, most languid sound that ever graced his ears and in an instant, you became a fleshly sanctuary of serenity. One he would find himself needing more often than he liked because the truth is—Jungkook doesn’t date. 

He considers relationships an unnecessary house of pain. If he spends a long time there, he forgets what the outside world looks like. Forgets how to get home. Forgets the roads and the rules and moralities of life and society because, deep down, he lets go of himself for the girl. 

He would kill a soul if she found herself needing it. Or at least destroy one so she would have a peace of mind. 

Break hands and break noses of people who looked at her wrong. 

That’s who he is and as much as he tried to change it, he failed every time. Failed like the clouds up above. His effort to stay hidden from you vanished into thin air because you would invariably find him and his heart would start praying with your voice. The pathetic thing would beg for mercy from the world. His knees would wobble and he’d let them sink right in front of you—all because of your deeply inert calmness and briskness that would, strangely, pour the nectar of mollification over his bloodstream. 

And he gave in to you because you didn’t ask, nor expect, anything from him. 

You didn’t do what the others did. 

You were independent and so full of life, of a different world, one he wanted to take a peek inside. 

And what he didn’t predict was that the road would be molded for his feet. And once he kissed you and learned the ins and outs of your intellect and the chambers of your heart, he still remembered the streets that line the outside world—its names, even. He remembered the address of his own apartment building, the number to his door and to the pass code. 

And so did you. 

You didn’t ask him to kill for you. And you didn’t ask him for tickets to see your favorite artists. 

He did it because he unreservedly loved you. 

And here you are, giggling, rubbing your little ass up against his groin and he detects happiness prickling his nerve endings. His hands are enveloped, snugly, as if no one was around and the artists traveled across the country for you, around your waist while your hands are up in the air, pointed fingers erect, dipping up and down to the rhythm of the music. 

And what he could never predict, not even in a million years—he’s enjoying himself. Feels the traces of the same vibrations ricocheting off your back into his chest, where the song enlivens him. 

He’s enjoying himself because you are enjoying yourself, brimming with elation and the radiance of your smile as you laugh, dance and scream out curse words that he’s equally enjoying hearing. 

Jungkook makes a mental note to pull those sounds out of you later in the early hours. 

And then you turn around, surprising him. You cup the side of his neck while you point that index finger in his face, screaming out the lyrics. And Jungkook regards it so overwhelming that he can only stare. Doesn’t know the lyrics to scream them back at you and make your experience better, but he’s learning them as he’s consuming them from you, his eyes tracing over each movement of your mouth that engraves them in his brain. He feels your hips moving under his palm at the bottom of your spine and when you roll your body forward, colliding into his like a star that meets its lover once only to never see it again, and brush your lips against his—he’s so horny and so in love with you that his eyes wet, his emotions rushing in and clouding his sight. 

The background fades out, fully, into the charcoal of the night, the colored lights softening and it’s just you that is the distribution of incandescence for the people present—and for him. And then you go down, dragging your hands down his stomach and his thighs, only to spring right up, grab his hips and make that collision happen—against the laws of the universe. 

A different star. A special one. 

Out of his darkened peripheral view, he can sense the audience having a way better time than they did before you turned around to face him. But Jungkook doesn’t give a fuck. 

Not when his cock is so tight in his pants. 

Thankfully, you’re obscuring it with the shape of your delightful body. He thinks he’s going to run with you to his car, pump more adrenaline into your body, so you can refresh the drowsy grass with a pristine layer of dew through the sound of your laughter. He also wonders if you’re wet yourself underneath that gray dress of yours and just as he’s about to lean over and yell that question into your ear, you turn around and get ready for the next song. 

And catch the glance of some guy to your right as you do. Jungkook grits his jaw because you linger for a second longer that he doesn’t particularly like.

A certain fever poisons his veins, but at the same time he feels the pinpricks of a cold sweat at the top of his spine. Who the fuck does he think he is, staring at his girl like that? 

But when he follows that line of the half broken gaze, he finds the guy’s slender face scrunched up in disgust. 

Oh, Jungkook might be ready to throw some hands and get him kicked out of this place, tell the cops it was all him so you can continue enjoying yourself in his arms. He’s seen some people sticking their tongues down their partner’s throat and he’s giving you a dirty look for dancing? 

This can easily be his very last night alive. 

Instinctively, Jungkook bunches up his fists and he’s ready to go after him, but you scream out and emit out your excitement, taking a deep breath to go absolutely mad as the rapper begins to perform the song that he’s heard you jamming out to the most. You take his hands, beaming at him from behind, and uncurl them on your tummy. Your glance was too brief and there’s still a furrow to his brows and now he worries you think he’s being a buzzkill. He doesn’t want to ruin the night for you, so he draws in closer to the crook of your neck and begins to dance, softly, with you. Your hands intertwine with his and you bang them in the air, jumping up and down at the bridge of the song that the headliner hypes up. 

And then you’re singing in a different language and he’s done for, his heart tightening in his chest. The one he’s heard your mother talk in over the phone while you replied in English. Jungkook squeezes you so hard and you let him, your smile growing. Your voice is more throatier and low-pitched and Jungkook senses your foreignness swathing his cock and he knows there’s a bigger tent in his pants. He presses it against you, makes you feel it and you throw your delicious ass. 

His eyes nearly go cross-eyed as he rolls them back, tilting his head. The wind sweeps across the sweat of his exposed forehead, sifting through his hair and he can’t wait any longer. Desire has overpowered the poison in his veins in such a mighty way and he begins to stand in the middle of a crossroad. 

Wait forty five minutes until the rapper finishes the show and then get stuck in the crowd as everyone tries to leave at once. 

Or wait two more minutes and then bolt to the car to fuck your brains out. There’s a higher chance you and him won’t be caught sinning in the backseat. It’s midnight and the villagers are asleep. And in the forty minutes, while everyone enjoys the last show, he can make you come so many times and ascertain that your experience will be heightened and ultimately better. 

He’s also sure you’ll be able to hear him—if he leaves the window open a little bit. 

He’s ready to turn you around, the decision throbbing in his sternum, but you make the move first. Swiveling on your feet, your body faces him, though your head doesn’t. Once again, he follows your gaze. You scowl at the guy, your brows knitting and your glossy mouth rounding before moving into the shape of the lyrics. You throw a dirty look his way one last time and Jungkook laughs in pride, his heart constricting in the love he bears for you, and he pulls you in, disposed to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his neck and open your mouth just as he kisses you—and it’s you who darts out their tongue, rolling it against his. Jungkook squeezes your bum, slapping it gently—and it’s simultaneous the way you and him both peek at the guy’s reaction. 

The fucker is grinning. 

You give him a vulgar gesture, the moonless blue light enveloping around your middle finger. 

Jungkook laughs so hard that heads turn in his direction and he’s fucking delighted. You devour it with your mouth, sucking his lips so intensely that he stops breathing. He senses you sealing it in him and he can’t wait any longer. 

He needs you and he tells you. 

Breaking the lip lock, he peppers kisses on the sensitive spot behind your ear, wafting his hot breath there. He feels the gooseflesh on your arm right upon his ear, too, and electricity courses down his stomach. Fuck, he loves it so much. Thinks you’re so incredible and he wants to fuck that fact into your guts. 

“Let’s get out of here. I want you,” he rasps, drifting his hand up your bum to the ends of your hair, bunching them in his fist. “I want to give you this dick. You deserve it.�� 

You suck in a harsh breath and withdraw to look at him. He bites his lip at the way his words painted a palette of such flushed beauty on your face, using colors this festival has never fucking seen. And his mouth ends rise in a prideful smile, not for his ability, but for your body. For the way it’s able to react to him so wonderfully. 

And he blushes when you begin to mouth the lyrics again while dipping to the seat of the amphitheater and sliding his blazer over his shoulders. 

He knows why you did that. 

And you validate his knowledge when you take his hand and lead him away from the concert, keeping close to him just to be cautious. 

You did it to camouflage the evidence of his arousal for you. 

And when you walk by the guy, you let go of his hand. Throw both middle fingers in his face. “You wish you had someone to leave with, huh?” 

The fucker puts his dirty hand on you, stopping you from walking away, and Jungkook doesn’t fucking hesitate. Like a bolt of lightning, he grabs his collar and fumes in his face. 

“What makes you fucking think you can touch my girl, huh? Juk go sip na?” he snarls, shaking him, his Busan dialect impulsively spilling out, darkening his voice and the latter question—‘Do you want to die?’ He watches a tendril of challenge line his eyes with murkiness and what happens next is too fast. 

Too fast for his liking. 

Knuckles collide with his cheek and at the rapid, unexpected and jarring contact, his lip ring cuts his gums. Jungkook grunts at the twinge that overpowers the throbbing on the side of his face, metal percolating through the aftertaste in his mouth, but he doesn’t let go of the guy’s shirt. In fact, he tightens his hold. Seethes. Is about to push him off and leave before things get even uglier, but then he feels your hands on his back and his heart stops, your voice mute, despite the fact your whole face twists in fear and is smeared with harrowing emotions that he’s never seen on you. Shrinks at the sight of your wet, bulging eyes. Of one singular tear grazing your lower lashes in a caress before plopping onto the wildflower meadow of the glitter on your cheek. 

“Get back,” he tells you, despite the swelling of his own emotions at your state of mind. But you don’t comply in time, unclench your fist and step back because far too soon, in the middle of the distraction, another collision bursts in this impenetrable darkness. 

Falling into you or falling for you even deeper, he can’t tell the difference within the numbing pain and his temper coaxes his exceedingly too easy tears to blur his vision. You don’t topple back on your hands, for Jungkook catches you in time with a strength that you somehow help him remember that he possesses. From the force of the guy’s jab, he was only pushed into you, but it doesn’t diminish the grave mistake he made. 

One he will pay for. 

Straightening you, Jungkook guides you towards the edge of the amphitheater and you step back, at last, startled. Turning around, he swings his fist into the guy’s face and he whimpers like a little bitch. 

One hit for your dignity. 

A second one for your tears. 

And the guy would’ve received a third and a fourth one had he not been held back by different pairs of arms all of a sudden. But he shakes them off. Pushes the guy back to his seat. He lands awkwardly on his tailbone with a hard thud and moans in pain. Suits him right for thinking he’s allowed to touch you, make you cry and remain unharmed. 

Jungkook shakes his head, his chest rising with heavy breaths and numbing, adrenaline-infused fury. “Sit here and keep your fucking hands to yourself, gaesaekki. Who the fuck do you think you are, making my girl cry by hitting me?” 

The music cuts out and the rapper hollers. Jungkook turns around and finds all of the attention of the audience and the headliner on him. Doesn’t want to put you on the spot like that, so he rolls his eyes in annoyance, finds your rounded ones and tips his chin further towards the exit, signaling to you to walk that way, so no one gets to look at you. You’re still standing by the edge of the amphitheater with your tear-stained cheeks and his heart aches, though once he sees that you’re covered by the shadows, he lifts a palm towards the stage and strides off, placing a hand on the small of your back and leading you towards the grassy hill. 

People are fucking testing him and he’s not in the mood. Not in the slightest. 

He’d go with his original plan—take your hand and run with you to his car, but he needs to cool off. His anger is sapping all the delight he gained from your microcosm of joy and he doesn’t want to ruin the night more than he already has. Jungkook curls an arm around your neck, tugging you flush to his side as you strut together with no one around. Lifts your chin so he can inspect how you’re feeling on your face. 

Your cheeks are glimmering, damply, carmine in the yellow light, accompanied by the faint burn of the stars up above, but your eyes have lost their great spark and you’re no longer beaming. They trace over his deadened cheek and mouth and you whimper, stopping dead in your tracks and burying your face in his chest. You wrap your arms around his middle, a hand stroking his back—and Jungkook feels himself drifting to a state of coma. The rapper’s lines decline the harder you nuzzle your face in his mesh-clad pecs and he can’t move his own hands, can’t hug you back, his panic cascading down his sternum, which he senses your warm weight upon. A ringing noise fills his ears, but he can’t wilt. He has to put you first and make things right. 

But his body doesn’t listen. 

He wills strength into his muscles, lifting his head towards the unmerciful heavens and letting your voice sound out his prayer. You evidently need physical support and emotional reassurement and he can’t give that to you out of his own weakened will. Not when he needs it so despairingly and eminently because he’s hollowed out on the inside. Not when he can’t hear a damn thing owing to the ringing in his ears. 

He can’t ask you for help, so he lets you pray through his heart to his father’s God. 

But nothing happens.

Radio silence. 

White noise. 

A feeble, miniature whine loosens from him. He’s not sure if you heard it and he hopes you didn’t, and for that sole reason—he does the unthinkable. 

He begins to pray with his own voice. 

Because there’s nothing else to do. 

Give me strength. To be there for her and not mess this up more than I already have. Fix me for her and help me make this night better for her. 

The tiniest of lights against your face unbolts ajar in him, vines of the flowers of mitigation blooming from that sliver of open space—right into his arms that abruptly lift and wrap around your shoulders, pulling you as close as humanly possible. 

The ringing lessens. 

And then his lips move. 

He kisses your forehead, dwelling there for a moment, basking in the fact that his prayer worked, and mentally, he ejects the trepidation and agitation away and out of his system, though the fear loiters in his ribcage. The fear that the mistake he made is unfixable. And there’s no thrumming of the bass to distract it. 

What’s worse, his lower regions still ask for a release. He might not be as hard as he was, but the pressure of an ungratified arousal still palpitates in his groin. The unlit disorder of his feelings encourages the blood to pump his cock erect, slowly, and his breath quivers—as well as his body. 

The shakes are back. He knows them, intimately, from his past relationships. Feels the long-gone ghost of abandonment catching up to him—and he fears, terribly, that you’ve somehow learned its ways and you’re about to use them on him because of the way he ruined your night. Cover him from head to toe until his mind numbs and he forgets, foolishly, the direction to his home. 

To solitude. 

He lets go of you and nudges you towards his car. Lets you walk the rest of the short way. But he notices that your forehead, the place he poured his frail love upon, is smudged with blots of blood, the little stars on the arches of your brows crooked and devalued. He’s barely able to get out a cigarette out of his pack and place it in the center of his parted lips, his heart cracking and turning painfully. Though, somehow he does it—he gnites it to life, takes a big drag and hides his hands behind his back. Hides his shakes away from you. Because it’s easier to ruin yourself than it is to give. 

You don’t know about them. And in the four months he’s been dating you, he didn’t have a reason to tell you about them. Thought they were lost for all eternity, the tables turned—them forgetting about him. 

But now he realizes how naive he was. Begs his shoulder to stop trembling from the impact of his deeply-embossed issues. Wishes they were as beautiful as you when you gaze back at him with the weight of your love and he feels it, swiveling to lean against the side of his car. 

It’s a life jacket that straps him down. Abates his shakes. And he’s able to take another drag, pursing his lips in a small ‘O’ when he exhales the smoke, so it doesn’t get near you. 

Your hands are behind your back, too. They support your tailbone against the solidness of the vehicle. It reminds him that he’s glad he hurt the guy, but now he wishes that you weren’t such a delicious brat because he could’ve made you happier and pinker with the amount of orgasms he would’ve given you. Would’ve driven you home and washed you clean. Would’ve made you a late night snack to bed and held you while you replayed the songs in your head. 

Nevertheless, it’s him who needs to be held. 

Foolish, his sensitivity. Another thing you don’t know about. And he’s not too sure, at this very moment, if he’s able to let you in this closely. Let you hold him and stop, ultimately, his shakes. The fear of possibly letting that happen, only to get left behind after, paralyzes him on the spot and even though he can’t breathe, he still manages to flick the ash off his cigarette and puff on it, desperately. Needs the smoke to hold him down, mollify the raging disorder in him—the macrocosm that is too gritty and stony for your delicate feet. 

He allows a full, audible sigh to leave him and he hangs his head, but he shouldn’t have done that. 

Because he divulged to you how fucked up he is. 

You lift a hand to him. “Come here, Oppa.” 

But he can’t. He can’t get close. His legs are numb and the thick-soled boots his feet are shod in are too heavy. His fear keeps them planted that safe distance apart. And Jungkook plays it cool. Licks his lips, lifts his head and sucks on his cigarette. Feels something dripping down his jaw and he wipes his hand on the bone. His cheeks hollow out and the smoke gets in his eyes, stinging them, blurring the spots of blood on his fingers

A different type of wetness coats them now. 

“You wanna go home?” he asks, then cringes at his stupid words. The smoke makes zig zag patterns in the air as his hands shake harder. And then the breath he takes is too difficult. His chin wobbles, the tears rush in and he can’t stop it. “They’re still—” A soft sigh, a whimper. His breathing speeds up because it seems as though his lungs ask for too much air and he can’t inhale enough of it. The tears threaten to pour out and crown his fear. Ruin his life. But he keeps going as if nothing is happening. “Making hot dogs in that food stand over there. The night’s not over.”

And then he’s sobbing, sinking to his knees as his legs give out under all that weight of his issues compressing him. The cigarette burns on the concrete, as abandoned as he soon will be. And his hands feel the rough material of his jeans, needing something to bring him back to a painless reality. He’s tasting blood and the fumes of the smoke and then he sees your sneakers in front of his knees, the pink Calvin Klein shoes that he bought you last week, and he sits back, feels his head being lifted, feels himself being pushed to a point of absolute submission. 

And that’s not something he’s able to stop either. 

You sit down on his thighs, sinking your fingers behind his ears and into his hair, forcing him to look at you and he has to blink multiple times in order for his sight to clear up. Sees, while he whimpers pathetically, his bloodstained, fearful girl seeing him. The real him. The flawed, broken him. 

“Gguk, Ggukie, what’s happening? Talk to me, baby, please.” 

He only sobs. Can’t get a word out. Because you’re here and you’re going to leave him—now that you’ve seen that he’s not a half of the man you pertain him to be. That he’s weak, pathetic and emotional. That he has problems that he doesn’t like to talk about. Unresolved issues that will affect you and guide you out of his life. 

You press him to your neck, holding him to you, and you shush him, gently, rocking him from side to side. Run your wet hand up his hair on the back of his head while the other one rubs large circles on his back. The light opens wider in him—and as he listens to the lullaby of your voice, it distracts him from the fear. It stills the ringing in his ears and blesses his arms with strength that he uses, without thinking, to wrap around you. 

Something lukewarm plops onto the side of his aching cheek as he, little by little, calms down, and he realizes it’s your precious tears. The salt to his wound. 

You’ve cried too much when you should’ve been laughing so hard that you’d be sick from it. 

“What happened? Tell me.” 

Your hand caresses his bad cheek, careful around the bump that your feather-light touch traces, and it’s how he finds out it’s even there. He finds out his bleeding is from his mouth because you wipe at it and clean your fingers on your dress. And then you’re back to stroking his hair, your long fingernails scratching, tenderly, his scalp, spreading alleviation down his body. 

You’re patient and gentle, tolerant and kind, despite the fact you deserve an explanation and he’s unable to give it to you. 

It’s what makes his rationality snap back to normalcy and he tugs your dress down, withdrawing from you and helping you stand to your feet. He’s here to make your night better, not unleash his problems at you. He takes your purse dangling from your hand, replacing it with his palm, and hauls you towards his car. 

But you stay put and he bounces back to you as if he were on a leash. 

And maybe he is—because you stayed at the horrendous scene of his worst. Bound to you in a way that he’s too drowsy to comprehend. Even his fear is tired, scurrying away to some shadowed corner of his soul, instead of attacking him and remaking the scene. 

“Give me my purse back and let me buy you that hot dog,” you say, with a hint of a remarkable harshness that makes him submit to you on a higher level. Something positive that he can’t pinpoint breezes through his clavicles and he wipes his knuckles across his eyes, shyness encasing him like steel—like a shield, giving him the hope that maybe, just maybe, he can overcome this with you. 

You didn’t leave. You didn’t disappear. You didn’t wrinkle your nose. 

You held him. Cleaned the blood off his mouth. Put him, somehow, back together like a puzzle piece. Knew how to do it without needing to look at the full picture. 

He hands you the chain strap of your purse—and it’s more of a symbol of his submission to you. Of the acquiescence and the meekness that you seeped into his pores by your touch. And, oddly, he feels whole. 

His walls are broken down, but he feels whole. Confident, soft, and manly. 

Because he has you and you’re here to take care of him. 

You’re quick on your feet as you yank him by the two of his fingers. He follows behind you, but all he can look at is your pendulous, brown, leather purse, suspended from your small hand, and how that shift of the dynamic in yours and his relationship occurred by that exchange. How it’s felicitous, pretty and sturdy. How he can come back to it and remember it—if he ever wavers. Remember that it’s the cure to his shakes. 

Letting himself be taken care of by you. 

The festival has ended and the ladies at the food stand are packing up to leave. It overwhelms him how much time his issues have stolen, but when he watches you go from nice to bratty in a millisecond, convincing them to make that last hot dog from him because he feels faint and needs some greasy food in order to get home and they comply, his love for you rises sky-high. Your own expression of love for him tidies up the debris from his broken walls and he’s so warm all over that he feels as though he’ll explode. 

You pay for the hot dog and leave a huge tip, thanking them with a smile that makes his heart quiver in a way that is pleasant, good and merciful. You hand it to him and it’s another exchange that wets his eyes, that makes him dip to your mouth and give you a chaste kiss that you more than deserve. You coo, deeply, into the kiss, and it’s a sound that he’s never heard from you. A dominant, prideful sound that stirs the butterflies in his stomach that carry your name on their wings to beat so ferociously that he can’t breathe. 

In a different way now. Pleasant, good and merciful. 

You walk away from the stand and sit with him on the sidewalk. Jungkook lets you have the first bite, sliding your leg over his as he holds the hot dog to your mouth. People are exiting the amphitheater in hefty crowds, but he doesn’t care. Can’t peel his eyes off of you as you open your mouth as wide as you can and take a big bite, whining and fanning your mouth due to how boiling hot it is. He can see the half chewed up sausage on your tongue and if he didn’t love you, he’d look away now, but he can’t because he does love you and your secret, indecent ways enthrall him enough that he can’t help but to kiss you again. Kiss the ketchup and mustard off of your upper lip. Clean you up like you cleaned up his debris. Blow on the sausage in your mouth a little to make you laugh and you do more than that. You chortle so hard that you nearly choke on it and he laughs, too, strangely. 

Thinks the hot dog is the best one he has had in a long time solely because you had that first bite. 

It fuels him with energy, yet he feels lightweight. Feels as though everything’s going to be okay, despite the fact those issues in him are a persisting threat and they can be triggered anytime. But something tells him you can handle it. 

You weren’t afraid to throw your middle fingers in a guy’s face because he had a problem with your public display of affection. Weren’t afraid of Jungkook’s ugliness. Weren’t afraid to fight the ladies so you could fill up his stomach with his favorite food. 

You can handle it. 

It’s all he thinks about as he drives you to his apartment with his hand on your thigh. 

And it’s all he thinks about when he kneels before you while he takes off your sneakers and lingers there, scattering kisses just below the hem of your dress. And you know where this is going because you pull him back by his hair and as he looks up at you like this, a peasant to a queen, his heart hammers so intensively that all he wants to do is cry while he makes love to you. 

He came across his salvation—in the worst of it all. 

“Let me clean you up,” you hush out, and Jungkook doesn’t understand because you already have. Internally. And outwardly all the same. He can’t postpone this any longer. He has to give back to you, give you his gratitude on a silver platter. He needs to do it because if he doesn’t, he’ll crumble. 

“No,” he rasps in a whisper, closing his mouth over the inner of your thigh, placing a singular kiss there before he returns his gaze back to you. “Let me, please.” 

Maybe you can see his desperation in the glossiness of his eyes and it awakens your pity for him, for in a blink you nod, and for the second time today—he doesn’t hesitate to do the next thing. He fists the fabric of your dress and yanks it up over your tummy, nuzzling his nose into your clothed mound. Pink, like your sneakers. 

He inhales you. Inhales the beginning of your arousal—and the beginning of a brand new scene that will color his life in a soft manner. 

Dragging the waistband of your panties down your legs, he tosses them on top of your shoes. Yearns for your legs to part your royalty for him and in order for that to happen, he carries you, bridal-style, over to the white of his bedding. Pretends it’s clouds that he’s laying you down upon because he’s about to make sure he’ll bring heaven down to you. 

The heaven that helped him give back to you earlier in his worst. 

He hooks his fingers under your socks and slides them off, one by one. Makes you sit up to rid you of your dress. Ruins your ponytail in the process, but he quickly fixes it by lugging your hair tie down your length, rubbing his blood away on your forehead with his saliva-coated thumb once he places you back down. 

And it’s not an expression of his dominance, the way he disburdened you from the daytime. That has long ceased to exist in him since that exchange. 

It’s an expression of his servitude to you. 

Of his lessening and your heightening. 

And it’s pleasant, good and merciful. It doesn’t feel as though he’s giving all of himself. On the contrary, it feels as though he has just discovered his true self. 

He won’t forget the address of his home because he’s not staying over anywhere. 

He is at home. 

And your folds revealing your royalty as he spreads your legs is the feeling of homeliness. His mouth on your warm, swollen clit is the epitome of all domesticity and the only thing he can fear at this very moment is his future homesickness if he rips his mouth off your cunt. 

And you getting wet so easily just from being taken care of like a queen confirms and validates all that he’s feeling. 

And he lets you know. 

Peasants are savages and he eats your pussy like it. Sucks on your clit with a verve that surprises him and makes his cock tight uncomfortably in his pants, especially when you make those deep, guttural noises of yours. You’re not the soft girl he knew that omitted swear words in her favorite filthy songs. You’re a vulgar woman, rolling her hips into his mouth as he lets you use his tongue. 

And he stops—just to beg for those words. 

“Let me hear you swear for me, please.” 

You whimper, flopping into the mattress, only to raise your torso using your elbows. You grip the hair on the back of his neck and hump his mouth, but then you suck in a breath and draw back, sobered up all of a sudden. 

“Does your lip hurt?” you ask, rounding your brows in pity and Jungkook’s heart quickens at the portrayal of your care towards him. His senses flick to that faint throbbing on the side of his pierced lip and he perceives that he forgot about his physical pain. His cheek throbs as well, but it’s all bearable. 

You help him remember. 

“It doesn’t hurt, baby.” 

But the hand that gripped his hair slides over to his lip, caressing it with a thumb. “But it’s swollen. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

He also remembers that he was bleeding from the same place and he checks your folds if he spattered them. With the same digit, he runs it over them, finding no taints of it. Sends a quick, internal thank you to God. 

You’re pure—he doesn’t want to mar you. 

“You’re not hurting me. You’re saving me,” he utters without a breath, the words more raw than anything he’s ever said to you, alongside his first, secretly sensitive I love you. And while he doesn’t let his lungs lift, you inhale all of the air for him, wafting it over him as you pout ever so slightly. And then you caress him—the good side of his face and he does something he’s never expected to do. 

He invites you in. 

Rests his head on the apex of your thigh while you continue to brush your hand in circles. Over his cheekbone, his temple, long strands of hair and ear. An ouroboros of love so unsullied and intact that the world’s upcoming destruction could never afflict it, never even come near it. Jungkook pushes your leg back and darts out his tongue. Mirrors your circles over your clit and the gentleness he uses to do it with pull such alluring moans from the bottom of your throat that he’s nearly at the peak of his own orgasm. 

And it just makes him hungrier. 

He turns you over to your side and closes that leg of yours over his head. Flattens his tongue over your clit and eats it like his life depends on it, one hand holding yours while the other slips to your heat, rubbing the hole until you go mad. And he’s not holding your hand to keep you bound. He’s holding your hand to keep his sanity and not come in his pants like a boy. 

You move your hips so his fingers enter you and you scream out at the sudden fullness. Jungkook drips in sweat, your walls slowly stretching around him sending tingles down his spine, and he’s moaning when you fuck yourself on his digits. 

It doesn’t take long for you to come. 

It is the final piece to your own puzzle and your orgasm thunders through you, the swear words tumbling out of your mouth like refreshing raindrops. You interweave them into his name, adorning it, making it prettier, and Jungkook is so overwhelmed with pleasure that all he can do is suck on your clit until you convulse so hard that you can’t take it anymore.

You may have lost your spark earlier, but now that you’ve come so magnificently, you’ve become it. The star of light isn’t something that gets attached to your eyes whenever you’re happy anymore. 

You’re the queen of all firelights and constellations. 

He lets you lie on your side as he hauls himself up to face you. He touches your skin besprinkled with the beads of perspiration, kneading the fleshy parts and ending up at your neck. Your eyes are closed when he reposes his head on his pillow besides yours and he detects his pleasure creating a new kind of joy within him, one that etches a lopsided smile on his face. 

You said the words for him while your orgasm coursed through your body. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Thank you,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you with a certain roughness that makes you whine and withdraw. You give him a playful dirty look, fragrant with your love, and Jungkook’s smile deepens. 

“Gentle,” you reprimand, fluttering your eyes back shut. “Don’t be a masochist.” 

He laughs through his nose, his heart constricting, and he kisses you with the gentleness you spoke of just to show you he can do it. 

You hum in appreciation and Jungkook thinks this must be the best day of his life, despite all. 

“There we go,” you praise, sleepily. “Gentle, so your boo-boo doesn’t hurt.” 

He caresses your face in circles in your fashion, watches you visibly relax and your eyes close all the way, your eyelashes brushing against him. His sleep-kissed queen. 

“You wanna sleep?” he asks, fondling the shell of your ear. He doesn’t mind if you’re too tired to take him; he’s willing to study the way your mouth parts and lets out long, restful breaths as you drift off to dreamland. 

He thinks it would be an honor. 

Everything had changed. The way he sees you, the way he loves you, the way he senses yours and his connection. The pupils of his eyes have been purified and he’s acknowledging himself with the ins and outs of his own relationship. 

Everything is new. 

You shake your head, humming out a sound of disagreement. “No, give me a second. You made me come really hard.” 

He nods, even though you can’t see him, and he sifts his fingers through your hair. Trails his kisses from your cheek to your neck and shoulder, dwelling there as you recuperate from your intense orgasm.

And then you’re swinging your leg over and straddling him. Your lids are so heavy from your little eye-shut that he silently coos at you, but your tiredness doesn’t stop you from mouthing kisses down his mesh-clad chest. From unbuckling his belt and freeing him from his pants. The mesh shirt is the only thing you keep on him. You bunch up its hem in your fist, stabilize his cock with your other and you swallow him. 

Not all the way, though. 

You rid him of his sanity because you pop your mouth, over and over, on the tip of his manhood. He feels the sound deep in his groin, right beneath your hand, and his chest can’t help but to shudder with each suction, his face scrunching. He unabashedly whimpers for you and you like his noises so much that you give him what he never asked you for. 

You do take him all the way. 

And your throat is your scent floating through the air of yours and his home. 

Heady, oriental and feminine. 

You slobber all over him, running your tongue sideways upon the veins along his length and Jungkook slinks in and out of his conscience. The pleasure you’re blessing him with brings him to a rose garden when you gag around him. The pink petals tickle his stomach, encouraging his shudders, and all he sees is you in the middle of that garden. A mighty statue of its queen—with a mouthful of cock. 

And then he has to physically pull you away from him because if he felt the tightness of your throat one more time, he’d be spurting ropes of cum down your esophagus. 

You’re feral, staring him down with a maddened smile, returning to your original position on his hips. And as delighted as he is to have you be in charge, he remembers something. 

He hasn’t put a condom on. 

“Wait.” 

Jungkook holds your waist as he rummages in his bedside table and once he finds the package he was looking for and rattles it, he finds it empty. Cold sweat trickles down the back of his neck, but he remembers something else as well. 

“Did you not put it in your purse?” he asks, the scene where he hands you the last square of the rubber for you to keep in your purse in case you get in the mood during the festival shooting out before his eyes. 

You nod. “Yeah, I think so. Can you go get it?” 

He sits up with you and kisses you, gently, prolonging the kiss until you whine and he thinks twice before provoking you. He can’t help it—you just keep saving him. 

Walking through your corridor, he sees your pink sneakers first, embellished with your panties of the same color. A smile tugs at the aching corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t mind. Thinks it heightens the experience. Bending to pick up your brown purse that he set beside your shoes, the time seems to slow down as he’s reminded of the exchange out there in the countryside. The shift of dynamics that liberated him. Jungkook grows emotional, his feelings liquifying and prickling his eyes. 

And it’s automatic and absolutely instinctual—the way he dips his mouth and kisses the leather material. 

Gently. 

Opening it, he fishes out the white square and hangs your purse on the hook among his jackets. Gives it a long, meaningful look before he returns to you. 

And you’re the one who wants to put it on him. You’re so diligent, tugging the peak of the rubber multiple times so you’re unequivocally certain that you did it right. And when you tug him, he whimpers so inferiorly that you emulate his hunger. 

You depict it so eloquently when you fight through your residual overstimulation and sink down on him, little by little. And the more inches your walls squeeze around, the more his new role settles within him. 

Peasant with his queen. 

You ride him like it. 

You bounce on him with such hard thuds that it provokes the pressure in his groin. His balls tighten so rapidly and the cinematic view of your breasts slapping against each other doesn’t really help slow down the incoming explosion of his orgasm. A glistening ring forms around his cock from your slick—and Jungkook genuinely considers, right here, right now, buying you a promise ring that will be an eternal reminder of this sublime salvation. 

And you’re as aware of the shift as he is because once you reposition your weight onto your feet, you pin his hands back and use them as leverage. Intertwine your fingers with his. His vision gets filled with spots of white. You clamp down on him with each stroke and even though he can’t move, he feels unshackled. There’s no ending to his moans. He’s so close, the pressure deepens in his groin, and he needs one more thing. 

One more thing and he’s done. 

“Kiss me,” he rasps, and you slow down, crying out, your orgasm catching up to you just the same, but he needs your attention, so he begs. “Please, baby. Kiss me.” 

Lowering yourself onto your knees, you lean forward. “Fuck, I love it when you beg. I’d give you anything you ever wanted.” 

His stomach spasms. Your nipples sail over his chest and you shudder, the mesh fabric stimulating you, and then you’re swirling your tongue around the arc of his open mouth. 

Teasing him, like the vulgar, bratty woman you are. 

Extra careful around the lip ring and his swollen flesh, healing it in a way. 

Jungkook whines your name. “Please.” 

You kiss him just once, but he needs more. Lifts his head off the pillow, chasing your mouth. You begin to swirl your hips in circles on the tip of his cock, just like your tongue, and the intense pleasure he gets from it forces him to bang his head back. 

You go for his neck. His collarbone. His nipple. 

And Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. 

His orgasm bursts in his groin and all the roses in the garden swell with freshness. He imagines he’s filling you up, instead of the condom and it elevates the momentous shocks of the explosion descending down all of his nerve endings. He hiccups and that’s it for you. You let go of his hands to massage your clit and you follow him out into that garden, his name and curse words trickling out of your mouth that lowers to his in a final, years-long kiss. 

His last rope oozes out of him at the feeling of your soft, wary tongue and he wants to weep due to the density of your care. More shrubs of roses bloom around your statue in that garden—and once again, he can’t peel his eyes off of you. 

Can’t stop brushing your hair back to see more of you. More of your rose-flushed complexion. More of the spark of your being that irradiates you from within. More of your care and love. 

And you give it to him. 

You wash out the dried blood on his face in the shower. Brush his teeth with extra care, which makes it more than difficult for him to stifle his tears. He lets you be a witness to his sensitivity and you welcome it, cradle it, hold him while the toothpaste foam numbs his achy lip. And it scares his fear away, most peculiarly. 

You hold him in bed, too, amidst the crisp, flower-scented linen of his fresh bed sheets, and you apologize. 

“I’m sorry for what happened tonight. If I hadn’t said a thing, you wouldn’t have ended up bruised and swollen,” you croak out, shifting the cold compress lower on his face, and you break into tears that trigger his. He had wished you weren’t a brat, but for a far different reason, and he tells you. 

“It’s an honor to get punched in the face for you.” He smiles through his tears and you sigh, removing the cold compress. “But I did wish things ended differently. I wanted to fuck you in my car. Keep the window open so you would hear your favorite rapper. But if things went according to my plan, you wouldn’t have healed me.” 

You sniffle, your eyes rounding at the onrush of your tender emotions, and Jungkook watches the waterfall of your tears. His own flows and mingles with yours, joining in unity. 

“What happened to you when we left?” you ask and Jungkook knows he wouldn’t avoid this question for long. Deems you deserve to know because of all what you’ve done for him. And he readies himself, pausing before he bares himself, fully, to you. 

“I got into panic mode because I blamed myself for ruining your night and…” he trails off, aware of the fact he needs to be more specific, and he takes a deep breath, wiping his tears with one hand before slapping it back on the duvet. “I have a constant fear that the people I care for will eventually leave me,” he explains and a wisp of pride envelops his bones for managing to get those words out for the first time in his life. You snuggle closer to his side, placing your head on his shoulder, and he gazes down at you. His fingers find your ear on their own and it comforts him enough, to touch you like that, that he’s able to continue. “I got left behind a lot of times in my past, which is why I swore off love. It just hurt too much and I stopped having the capacity for it. And when we left the concert, I thought you’d leave me, too, after what I’d done.” 

You press the cold compress back to his cheek. “I could never leave you, you’re mine,” you whisper, and another stream of tears soaks through the dish towel wrapped around frozen vegetables. Jungkook doesn’t take your words for granted. He puts great meaning to them and hides them, safely, in his sternum. “And you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t ruin my night. It was all me and for that I’m sorry.” 

He squeezes your arm. “Don’t be sorry,” he says and means it. Lifts his head and plants a cold kiss to your lips. 

Gentle. 

“I love you, Ggukie. It’s me who should be fighting for you now.” 

Jungkook laughs through his nose. “No, I’ll keep protecting my queen.” One more kiss, gentler. “I love you,” he adds and means it. 

And he falls asleep like this. With you clinging to the side of his body while keeping the cold compress intact and unmoving with your forehead. One that he removes in the middle of the night and warms up the iciness of your skin by smothering it with his body heat. 

Returns to the rose garden and gapes at the statue of you, hand in hand with you—as a changed person, a sensitive, flawed and submissive person that is loved and accepted. 

Finds it hard to believe even in his dream. 

And you’re there when he wakes up. 

Drooling, indecent and vulgar as you are. And he wouldn’t want anyone else.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[arthenaa]

Could i ask for HCs of Mizu with a mommy kink? Like her liking to be called that? Thank you!

Mizu with a Mommy Kink (18+ mdni after the line) gender neutral! reader

ALRIGHT

Honestly, the kink stemmed from the fact that she's a natural protector

She may have a contradicting personality with regards to socialization but overall, it's probably because it's influenced by the values and mindset that she learned from when she was young

Violence had never been the right answer and while the world continues to change influenced by the bloodbath in its history, why can't she make use of it as a way to save others?

yeahh getting philosophical in a fucking nsfw post YEAHHH

anyways, you and Mizu had been acquainted for a while now and she respects you enough to be somewhat vulnerable with you

It's the same with you as well, you regard Mizu as a close confidant of your life stories

It's safe to say that you know each other well enough despite how it looks

There have also been quite close calls that made your relationship with Mizu border something more than acquaintances slash friends with a question mark in bold (its for the emphasis)

So imagine to your surprise how worked up she gets over a joke you made after commenting on her natural need to protect

"Y'know," You lick your lips, eyes squinting as you assessed the woman before you quietly drinking her tea. "You have a natural sense of protecting. Kinda like a mommy."

The blue-eyed samurai freezes in her place

It was a look of horror at first and you were quite tipsy during that time (you two were lounging at your home)

So your thought process was, heyyy why not make fun of this mf while I have no shame

so you did

The look of horror, turned into being uncomfortable until her cheeks flushed to a deep shade of red

You've never seen someone change emotions in just a few seconds

You were enjoying this clearly

Mizu was having none of it and while the term did fluster and invoke horrors worthy enough of the judgment of Izanami no Mikoto

Fueled by her emotions, her secret-not-so-secret attraction towards you, and her need to shut you up, Mizu moved towards you

And now you're where you are now

NSFW

Soft dom with a hint of sadistic tendencies

She likes making you beg and plead for her to do something, then turn a 180 and praise you for your work

loves loves loves overstimulating you

I think its because she hasn't gotten any action over the past few years that all she's doing is take take take from you

You're writhing and shaking in the sheets with just her mouth and she hasn't even gone to her fingers yet

She loves looking down at you, reveling in the superiority that your submission to her brings

It makes her menacing tbh but its hot okay

This mf eats you up like a champ

Fast learner

Has a good stamina but her refractory period can take some time

so yeah it ultimately ends up with you overstimulating a dozen times before she finally gets to have her own release (also probs bc she prioritizes your pleasure over her own)

she loves it

She gives you reigns at first, just to let her know what to do and a few seconds later, your eyes are rolling in the back of your head

Quite manipulative in bed

Says a lot of things like, "you're mine right?", "say you want me", "tell mommy that she's all you need"

you indulge her manipulative tendencies tho

all of this is making you develop a praise kink omf

Sometimes gets overwhelmed by the pleasure and pushes you too far but thats okay cuz its mizu

Stops completely and stares you down when you stop saying mommy

That completely just puts you in your spot

Then her voice drops to a chill and calm tone and suddenly you're shivering and flushing at her stare

Know how people's eyes get duller when they're in the state of lust or smn

Hers get brighter for some reason

She likes positions that allow her to wrap her arms around you or where her body is either on top or covering you

yeahhh stems from the need to protect

After you and Mizu establish this kind of relationship, she begins to act more mischievous around you

MIZU IS MISCHIEVOUS damn, that mf will tease you like its nothing

she will eye you up with no shame, whisper in your ear like its not bothering you, and then act like she hasn't done anything at all

Esp when she gets joke gifts from the brothel like sex toys and what not

She will use them on you and you will limp for a week

More of a service-top rather than receiving

She likes the reactions she's pulling out of you and when you return the favor, she pampers you with so much love and affection and you just flush in shyness

yeaaaaa, its okay to be a red flag in bed as long as it's mizu

[cod-dump]

pls god i will give you both my femurs for some good comfy soapghost plsplspls simon meeting johnnys fam and being simultaneously adopted bc john lets him call him johnny and no one else is ever allowed to call him that, bc soap told them how he’s always got a mask on but here he is meeting them without the mask PLS I WILL BEG

MacTavish

Part 1

SoapGhost

(I attempted to write a Scottish accent in this. I tried 🥲)

___

Ghost underestimated how much Soap talked about him to his family. Even before they started dating Soap was gushing about his very attractive lieutenant. Ghost learned that because Soap’s elder sister was bringing up everything and anything to embarrass her brother in front of his boyfriend.

Ghost wasn’t sure about meeting Soap’s whole family. Meeting his sister was already nerve wracking and she greeted him with a hug. She was a tall woman, taller than Soap. Maybe an inch shorter than Ghost without the heels. That was his guess. She was practically the female version of Soap, except taller. When her eyes met Ghost’s he felt himself start to sweat.

“I wasn’t too sure when my baby brother said he was dating a Brit. But now looking at you? I can see why he jumped on you when he had the chance.”

Soap is mortified as Ghost blinks in shock.

“EVE WHY!?”

The woman laughed, poking her brother’s forehead, “Oh come on! You never brought any of your boyfriends home! I have to make up for all those years of embarrassment you deprived me of!”

Ghost had a brief relationship with his brother. This relationship that Soap had with his sister showed they had years of trust and love between them. Something that Ghost never had. Watching Soap try to grab Eve while she held him back by simply putting her hand on his forehead and pushing away— It made Ghost realize how much he missed out in the sibling department.

Going out to eat with Eve wasn’t as bad as Ghost thought it would be. She stopped being so intimidating when she started sharing things about Soap that Ghost may have or haven't already known about. Still, Soap still tried to argue with her on everything she said.

“—not to mention that you always deflect serious conversations with stupid jokes.”

“I do not!”

Ghost laughs, “Sorry, Johnny. She’s right about that.”

The mood at the table suddenly changed. Eve’s eyes widen before she turned her head and gave Soap the most deadly glare. Soap pales, focusing on his food. Ghost looks between them, wondering if he said something wrong.

“Johnny?”

“Eve-“

“No, you let him call you Johnny? John Hamish MacTavish, since when do you let anyone call you Johnny?!”

Ghost blinks, “He doesn’t let you call him Johnny?”

“No!”

Soap was covering his face, groaning, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal! You always fought anyone you tried to call you that! Pa, Ma, me, Carol—“

“Please… Eve-“

Eve pulls out her phone and Soap gaps before trying to grab it from her, “No!”

“Everyone in the MacTavish family is going to hear about this!”

Soap wasn’t able to stop her. Eve laughed victoriously when the text sent out, turning to Soap who looked like he wanted to die. By the end of the night when they left the restaurant, Soap hung back to talk to Eve. Ghost was sitting anxiously in the car, watching them talk. Soap got in the car and groaned loudly.

“Sorry…”

“About what?”

“Calling you Johnny in front of her.”

Soap takes Ghost’s hand, “She was bound to find out.”

“You seem pretty upset about it.”

Soap laughs, “I’m upset that my sister has already called you her favorite brother. I’m her only brother!”

Ghost can’t help but smile, “She likes me that much?”

“She loves you. God… Christmas is going to be a mess… if you come…”

“Why wouldn’t I come?”

“My family can be overwhelming. It might be too much for you and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Johnny, I’m going. It would be rude to ignore your parents’ invitation.”

Soap smiles and leans over and kisses Ghost later that night as they laid in bed Soap was getting bombarded with texts and phone calls. Ghost didn’t think something as little as a pet name would be the cause of this. Soap had to put his phone on ‘do not disturb’ before hugging Ghost.

“I think ignoring it might make it worse…”

“Maybe. Don’t care.”

Soap kisses Ghost, the man melting against him as they got comfortable in bed.

_

Christmas came sooner than what Ghost was prepared for. It felt like he just blinked and Christmas was around the corner. He was nervous as he packed, getting ready for their flight to Scotland. Soap was excited, talking about his hometown and how he couldn’t wait to show Ghost where he grew up.

He guess he was too quiet because Soap stopped talking and walked over to him. He was trying to fold a shirt but he was shaking so bad that he kept wadding it up. Soap took the shirt from him, making Ghost turn to look at him.

“Baby, are you sure you want to go? They will understand if you choose to stay behind.”

“I’m fine! Just nervous.”

Soap puts the shirt down and hugs Ghost, “I get it. But I promise they’re going to love you.”

“I hope you’re right…”

“When have I ever been wrong?”

Ghost stares blankly at Soap. Soap bites his lip and picks the shirt back up, folding it.

“Don’t answer that.”

They finished packing, deciding to watch a movie before heading to bed. Ghost tried staying focused but he was so nervous about fucking up and doing something to make Soap’s family not like him. He’s only ever met the family of a ex-partner once before and that didn’t go well. To be far that boyfriend wasn’t out of the closet and Ghost was visiting as just a friend before his boyfriend’s cousin outed him. That was a bad experience and they broke up a couple days after.

Ghost knew that Soap’s family knew about his sexuality, they knew he was dating a man. But what if it was just mild tolerance rather than acceptance?

“You’re thinking pretty loud.”

Ghost blinks and turns to look at Soap. He had paused their movie and was looking at him with concern. He didn’t even have to say anything and Soap knew what was worrying him.

“They’re going to love you, love.”

“What if they don’t?”

“Si, I know my family. They’re going to take one look at you and then you won’t be able to get rid of them.”

Ghost sighs, “That fast?”

“Oh yea. Should’ve seen them when Carol introduced her husband. Poor guy wasn’t able to even go to the bathroom without someone bothering him. The only person that didn’t like him was my dad but that guy can look at a puppy and scoff.”

Ghost winces, “So I have to worry about your dad?”

Soap rubs the back of his neck, "No?"

"Johnny..."

"Fine, guy can be a bit... Protective. When Carol introduced her husband he wasn’t too happy about the guy already proposing to her without asking for his blessing. He’s old school like that.”

Ghost doesn’t say anything and Soap tries to smooth things over.

“He doesn’t like people that quick! It’s nothing personal he’s just like that. Always has been.”

Ghost looks at Soap and he leans over and kisses him, “He will certainly learn to like you way faster than Oliver.”

Ghost smiles to ease Soap even though he wasn’t convinced. They finished their movie and went to bed, but Ghost wasn’t able to fall asleep that night. When their alarm went off he was still awake and groaned. He was dead on his feet as they checked their luggage before heading out the door to leave for the airport. They had gotten a early morning flight because Soap wanted to spend as much time as possible while back home.

On the car ride Soap noticed Ghost lounging in his seat, eyes barely open.

“Oh, baby. Maybe you can take a nap on the plane ride?”

“I doubt I’ll get much sleep on a flight that is barely over an hour.”

“Still better than nothing.”

Ghost sighs, knowing that his anxiety will keep him from even getting an house of sleep. The flight was rather uneventful and Soap gave him his earbuds to listen to music so he could try to sleep. Ghost thinks he slept for thirty minutes before they landed. Seeing how excited Soap was made him keep pushing, not wanting to ruin his boyfriend’s experience of coming back home after being gone for so long.

When they walked out of the airport Eve was there. She got out of her car and ran over, hugging Ghost before hugging Soap.

“What the hell, Eve?”

“What? I hug people in the order in which I like them.”

Soap gasps and Ghost couldn’t help but preen. She helped pack their luggage in her trunk before Ghost got in the backseat. She frowned in a cartoonish manner when he did this.

“I was hoping to not have to share the front with this loser.”

Soap glares at his sister with the fury of a thousand suns. Ghost chuckles as they get in the car bickering about something. Ghost ended up falling asleep again. It wasn’t a deep sleep but it was a better nap than what he got on the plane ride. He woke when they came to stop, seeing that they were in a town. Soap and Eve were talking lowly, probably to prevent from waking him.

“I’m sure you talked to him about Pa…”

“A little bit?”

“John…”

“I was worried about scaring him. He’s already nervous about meeting everyone.”

“I doubt hiding how Pa is will help.”

Ghost made a noise and pretended to be just waking up. Soap turns his head and smiles at him.

“Hey, baby. Welcome to Glencolm! The place where I grew up.”

Ghost sits straighter in his seat to look at the town as they drove through.

“Farkirk Café?”

“Has the best burgers in the world. I have not had a burger as good as the one’s that ol’ Kenzi makes.”

Ghost makes a mental note of the place. They ended up driving a few kilometers out of town. They came to a big homestead, several cars already pulled alongside the driveway. Ghost saw some kids playing around the house. They paid no mind to them until they saw Ghost get out of the car, a couple boys running inside afterwards. Ghost’s anxiety immediately picked up, grabbing his luggage from the trunk along with Soap’s.

“I can get my own bag, Si.”

Soap is suddenly tackles by two girls. He caught himself on the car, laughing when he sees who jumped on him.

“Aye, look who it is! Two of the most beautiful girls in the world!”

He goes to grab them but they squeal and dodge him, running to Eve. They hide behind her, giggling as Soap stalked after them. Eve rolled her eyes with a smile.

“Mina, Ellie.”

The girls stood at attention, looking up at Eve. She makes a shooing motion at them.

“Go get your father.”

“Yes, Mama.”

They take off, giggling the whole way. Ghost’s heart ached at the innocence, they reminded him of Joseph.

“They’ve gotten so big!”

Eve let’s out a deep breath, “Tell me about it! Soon they’ll be dating! And you know I’ll have to kill whoever breaks their hearts!”

Eve and Soap start to move towards the house, Ghost following closely. The closer they got to the house, the harder his heart would beat. A man opens the front door, taking Eve’s hands immediately and pulling her in for a kiss. He then turns to Soap and pulls him in for a hug.

“John!”

“Hey, Jay!”

Ghost notes the man’s faint Welsh accent that mixed with a Scottish one.

The man looks at Ghost and looks him over before offering a hand, “Hello, you must be Simon.”

Ghost puts down a bag and takes the man’s hand. He could tell Jay was trying not to stare at his scarred face or hands. But Ghost recognized the curiosity and slight horror. He tries to ignore it as Jay and Eve welcome them inside. As soon as that door closed Ghost felt trapped. He wish he was wearing a mask but he knows that would’ve brought up questions. Jay reaches for the bags Ghost had.

“I can take those to your room.”

Ghost goes to protest but Soap takes his hand, “Let him. Ma would have a fit if we didn’t immediately go see her.”

Eve laughs, “She would. Hun, where is Ma?”

“In the kitchen.”

Soap starts to drag Ghost through the house. He tried to look around but Soap wasn’t giving him any time to do so. They walk into a big kitchen, two women talking over some tea. One turned and Ghost knew that was Soap’s mother. Eve and Soap looked just like her. The small woman smiles broadly and walks over, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Oh, my baby boy! Let me look at ya!”

She holds Soap by his shoulders and pushes him away at arm’s length, looking him over before she grabs him by his face.

“Ah missed ya so much!”

“Ma, I was here for Easter!”

She waves her hand dismissively, “Like that matters.”

She looks past Soap and straight at Ghost. He tensed as she studied him, unreadable. Then she smiles warmly and moves past Soap, taking his hands.

“Ye must be Simon.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She laughs, “No need for such formalities. Ye can just call me Muriel.”

She looks over Ghost, pulling away and looking to Soap.

“Ya got yerself a looker!”

Ghost blushes as Soap shakes his head, “Ma…”

She ignores Soap and looks back to Ghost. She hooks an arm with his and leads him to the kitchen island. The other woman finally speaks.

“Ah see that yer just gonna ignore me!”

Soap laughs, “Sorry, Carol!”

Soap walks over and the woman glares at him but it melts away and she reaches out, pulling Soap into a hug.

“Good to see ya, little brother.”

Carol turns to Ghost and looks him over before turning back to Soap.

“Did ya see the biggest guy in the force and decide thats yer man?”

Soap smacks her shoulder as she laughs, “What? Ye always had a thing fur big guys!”

Ghost looked away as the two start to bicker, Carol walking out of the room with Soap chasing after her. Muriel shakes her head before grabbing Ghost’s attention with a gentle tap to his arm.

“Would ya like some tea, dear?”

“Yes I would.”

“Ah’ll get ya some then. How do ya like it?”

“Just a lot of sugar added to it.”

Muriel walks over to the kettle which still had hot water in it. Ghost looks around the kitchen, unsure what to do without Soap there. Ghost looks at the decorations in the kitchen. There was some porcelain farm animals in the window sill. A woman walks into the room, groaning.

“Ma, Jacky just threw up.”

Muriel turns around, “Oh no! Where is he?”

“In the family room.”

Muriel rushes out of the kitchen, leaving Ghost alone with the woman. She was short, had reddish brown hair and blue eyes. Her face was round and she had light freckles. She studies him like she was trying to figure out who he was.

“Ah’m sorry, who are ya?”

“I’m Simon, John’s boyfriend.”

Her eyes widen before she rushes forward and hugs him tightly. Ghost tenses, not expecting her to hug him. She pulls away and is holding him by the shoulders.

“Yer not what Ah was expectin’! Much more… handsome.”

Ghost flushes as the woman steps back and clears her throat before offering her hand.

“Hello, Ah’m Andy. John’s big sister.”

Ghost takes her hand, “Nice to meet you.”

Soap walks into the kitchen, “Sorry about running off Si-“

He freezes when he sees Andy. Unlike everyone else he’s seen, he seemed to put his guard up.

“Andrea… I didn’t know you would be here.”

“That makes two of us,” She looks at Ghost, “Where did ya find this big guy?”

Ghost felt uncomfortable as she looked at him. He also didn’t like how Soap was acting. Soap glares and steps forward, getting between her and Ghost.

“Military.”

“Huh. Maybe Ah should join. Get me a big guy.”

She starts to leave the kitchen, flashing a smile at Ghost, “Good ta meet ya, Simon.”

She leaves and Soap turns to Ghost after a minute, seemingly making sure she was gone.

“What was that?”

Soap blinks, “What was what?”

“Hey! John! Simon! Pa’s comin’ in from the garage!”

Soap jumps up, “Oh shi— C’mon, babe!”

Soap grabs Ghost and drags him out of the kitchen and through the halls. They come to be big open room with a couch and loveseat. Ghost assumed it was the family room. There are a couple kids running around but they see Ghost and run upstairs. There’s an old woman, maybe Soap’s grandmother, and a woman that looked around the same age as Muriel. On the loveseat was a man with black hair and eyes. He looked at Ghost and immediately looked away when Ghost turned his attention onto him.

He looks to the big sliding doors as they open, and his heart picked up speed when a mountain of a man came through. He had a light tan, red hair and blue eyes. Ghost realized this man was taller than him. Soap walked up the man with a grin. Before he can say anything the man grabs Soap and pulls him into what looked like a bone crushing hug.

“My boy! How are ya?!”

Soap wiggles free from the man, “Fine, Pa! Hey, I want you to meet Simon!”

The man’s gaze turns to Ghost and it was ice cold. Ghost could feel the judgment as the man walks over, definitely sizing him up. Ghost has faced hordes of enemies head on, has almost diex multiple times. But for some reason, this man was the most terrifying thing he has ever faced.

“Yer the fella my boy’s been gushin’ ‘bout?”

“Yes, sir.”

While Ghost addressed Muriel as ‘ma’am’ out of respect, calling Soap’s father ‘sir’ felt like a necessity for survival. He holds out a hand to Ghost who grabs it.

“Hmm… firm hand ya got there.”

Ghost could tell the man wasn’t looking for a reply. Soap groans and grabs his father’s arm.

“Pa—“

The old woman speaks up, “Isaiah. Stop foolin’ ‘round. He’s a fine young man.”

Soap turns to the woman, “Thank you, Gran!”

Isaiah rolls his eyes before backing off. Muriel comes into the family room with a little boy in her arms. Isaiah’s attitude instantly changes. He smiles and walks over to her, placing a loving kiss on her head. Soap walks over to his grandmother and sits next to her before motioning Ghost to come sit. The other woman around Muriel and Isaiah’s age smiles at him.

“Don’t let that eejit scare ya.”

Ghost looks to her and she pats his shoulder, “I’m Miranda, John’s aunt and Muriel’s sister.”

“Simon.”

“Well, welcome to the MacTavish home.”

Ghost smiles but he looks ahead of him, feeling Isaiah’s heavy gaze on him. Hell, he felt like he was in a war zone.

___

[paracosmicparadox]

So I finished FFXV ages ago, but I've been thinking about it lately bc you know, I elaborated the chocobros' story far further than it was meant to go and got way more attached to them than I should have. So here're some things that the game did really well and some of the things it didn't. (you don't have to agree w anything here; I'm not trying to corrupt y'all w my opinions; I just feel like talking)

Let's start with the bad to get it out of the way:

CINDY. I swear to everything holy her character had the potential to be So Cool if she hadn't been so overtly over-sexualized. Like, I'm a woman-liker too and I get it, lady mechanics are hot af, but you know what else is attractive? Safety in the workplace. Cindy's outfit was not something any mechanic would be caught dead wearing. Yeah, it was designed to be sexy, but do you know how many burns she would've accumulated from the hot oil and metal she works with? There's a reason mechanics typically wear clothing zipped up when they're actually working on something. If anything, Cindy's character design just made me uncomfortable. Her character itself? Great. No qualms there. Her design? Please acquire more than two square feet of fabric I'm begging you. I just feel like Cindy deserved to be so much more than fan service.

Luna's brief time on-screen. Yet another potentially incredible and deep female protagonist who got short change from this game. People joke a lot that Luna wasn't at all an important character because the game never really treated her like one. She was MEANT to be important, clearly, but it felt like she existed just for her tearjerking death scene? Like there was SO MUCH overlooked potential to bring her into the storyline as more than Tragic Love Interest In White, and yet?? Idk it frustrated me.

The emotional aspect of the game felt rushed. There were a lot of emotional scenes covered throughout the plotline ranging from King Regis's death to the deal with Prompto at Zegnautus Keep. I feel like the game TRIED to cover them realistically and show the characters' grief, but it didn't quite get there. It was just sort of an "Oh, how sad. I'm so upset and angry. Hm, what's that? My friends believe in me without truly understanding and I can kill someone to ease my pain? Oh okay I'm better now." I get that realistic healing cycles are kinda hard to portray within a set timeframe, but having some lingering effects of the blatant trauma inflicted would've been nice. You don't recover from shit like that in a week's time.

Character personalities tended to be one-sided. Noctis was edgy, Prompto was happy-go-lucky, Gladio was tough-guy, and Ignis was... nevermind, Iggy was great--- HE had some on-screen depth. Personally, I've developed these characters myself far more than what the game gave us, but I wish we'd gotten more canon depth beyond their surface-level traits. I love them with my whole heart and they deserve genuine complexity.

Now the things I actually really enjoyed:

The graphics were on-point. The amount of detail put into character design and into monsters was insane. You could zoom in and see individual textures on skin and hair and feathers, bringing a level of realism to the game that I personally enjoyed.

All of the Latin and Norse mythological references!! As a Latin nerd, I found little gems everywhere in this game. Esp in the names--- (Noctis Lucis Caelum = Of-the-night Sky-of-light (the genitives in there make the literal translation kinda a mouthful ik) Gladiolus Amicitia = Sword-flower Friendship (the gladiolus is an actual flower that gets its name from the Latin word gladius, meaning sword, for its sword-like shape) Ignis Scientia = Fire Knowledge; Prompto Argentum = Ready Silver (the word prompto is actually in the dative (possibly ablative), making the literal translation nonsense, but if they'd made his name Promptus, it would've sounded awkward, so I can see why they picked the dative/ablative form of the adjective for stylistic reasons and I put the rough translation instead)) WOW THAT WAS A LOT OF PARENTHETICAL INFO WHOOPS

Ardyn's character. I'm not saying this bc I'm one of the fans who fawn over him---Ardyn is DEFINITELY NOT MY PREFERRED FLAVOR OF MAN, but character-wise, he made an excellent antagonist. He was witty, slick, and classy in an I'm-gonna-outstep-you-like-it's-hopscotch sorta way. He was a poetic villain done well, which made him an antagonist you could both sympathize for and absolutely detest given the situation. He was both the master manipulator and the pawn one space away from the edge of the board. He can sway a crowd, but you know deep in your gut just by the cunning greed in his eyes that You Cannot Trust The Man. He was definitely Not a good person (tragic backstory isn't an excuse), but he was a good villain.

I loved the bond between the chocobros?? This is probably bc I'm a sucker for the found family trope, but their interactions were so amazing to me?? Like, not even the cutscene stuff. Just their little sidebar conversations during fights or while you're walking around or driving the Regalia. They're Roadtrip Buddies™ and I think that's excellent.

THE FOOD. By god, the food in this game looked absolutely scrumptious and I would like to partake. The Daggerquill Soup? Give it to me I'll pay you. The Creamy Crustacean Omelet? Stop it right now I'll eat that so fast it'll be a criminal offense. Like I know I touched on the graphics earlier, but broski I was not kidding. I guess I know why the game took so long to make it to the market bc the detail that went into these recipes is absolutely mouthwatering.

[atopvisenyashill]

9, 12, and 25?

9. worst part of canon

okay let me dig into the dothraki thing - what annoys me the most is that he compares the dothraki to is ~great plains horse riding tribes~ but there is NOTHING of them culturally in the dothraki or even in their setting!! the apache comanche navajo and other plains nations have such a rich history and i get george probably didn’t have access to that sort of information in the 90s but god he doesn’t even try!! i don’t know a lot about mongolian history but i would hazard a guess that the dothraki bear no resemblance to the actual khans that existed in the mongolian empire. there’s like an attempt to characterize dorne. there’s not even a tiny attempt to flesh out the dothraki or the lhazareen as cultures.

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

okay i think this series has been around long enough that there’s not really unpopular characters bc everyone has their own mini fandom. i think you can find like a good hundred stans of every character in the series atp and i think that’s a fun change from when i first entered the fandom and people would make metas with lines like “sansa the bitch in the north begging for scraps” and this got reblogged by ~serious people~ in this fandom without comment. i think the fandom blowing up in size made some things worse, bc sometimes the h particles in this fandom go crazyyyyy but i also do like that when i say “i think sansa and theon are gonna be in love” while at work, i get taken seriously now.

that said, obviously it’s joffrey. idk what it is about this kid that makes people unable to see his complexity, despite his death being seen through the eyes of arguably his two biggest victims in tyrion & sansa, and both of them only feel grief and anguish at his death! he was born into an awful situation and it turned him into an awful person and he is dead before he’s had two decades of life.

i think cersei also gets this treatment, this refusal to engage with her complexity, which is why you get so many people who will call her ~jaime’s abuser~ when it’s just so much more complicated than that, or the guys on reddit who think robert should have beat her more. i think they both make people uncomfortable bc a lot of people know if they were in that situation, they’d absolutely crack up under the pressure too. they would not stay good people and they don’t wanna think about it so joff & cersei must simply be born evil! i feel like in the Fandom Right Now, they’re the two that really get that the most in several places and i think it’s crazy, cersei should be winning “best character in all of history” awards man!!!!

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

don’t love the idea that brienne shouldn’t fuck jaime bc shes ~too good for him, i think this is flying too close to madonna whore stuff and the jaime/brienne/cersei triangle is RIFE with this it’s like catnip for people, and this is bc jaime himself idealizes both women as madonnas and whores BUT for brienne it’s like. her story is about learning she’s allowed to be a woman in however way she wants to be, and she can be a knight and also crave sex and romance, she’s not a freak in a dress for desiring fine things like any other woman of her station. finding a sexual and romantic partner who looks at her and feels LUST and feels LOVE is imo a very important part of her character arc and i think the idea that she has to settle for someone like connington is crazy and also like, mean 😭😭 it just forces her back into that mold of the madonna to cersei’s whore and i don’t like it!!

[red-dye40]

Please, I beg, a director's commentary on Ancaux or Sexual Trauma Clipshow. Also, P.S, thank you for being the first to plunge into the untapped territory of Phlegm.

PHLEGM MENTION!!!!!!!!!!! ok i can do a little for both :) for you

first is chapter 5 of ancaux which i weirdly have a lot to say about

This apartment has become a hole. No sunlight, no air, no food besides a surplus bag of stale circus peanuts.

when i was little there was this extremely old grocery store in my town, like truly it was 1999 and everything looked like it hadn’t been changed or cleaned since the early 60s, and the most vivid memory i have is this lazy susan of candies near the cash registers and exactly at eye level with me were bags of dusty stale circus peanuts. like the weird orange marshmallow candies?? i remember feeling so. upset by them. and thinking like. this is something a person with no hope left would eat.

i always go back to those circus peanuts when i’m writing a person at their wit’s end.

“Alrighty then…” The employee peers a little deeper into her cart. “Heh. Must be some project you’re working on.” “Home renovations.” “We got a beautiful collection of wall finishes in the paint department if you’re interested.” “I’m not.”

i rewrote this interaction soooooo many times, i had so many different plans for it. originally i had devi ask the guy something like “i’m going camping do you have anything that could kill a bipedal feral dog in one hit” and he would be like “oooh let me consult our expert!” and would lead her to nny. i thought it was too gimmicky and fanservice-y, and it also kept backing me into a corner where i wouldn’t know where to go from there.

something about me is i write little clues in everything bc i love dramaturgy and i love making sure stories are watertight. i put the little mention of the paint department in hopes that maybe readers would be able to connect it to the previous chapter (the little itty bitty one where nny is painting) and figure out ahead of the reveal that nny works at the hardware store??? i truly don’t know if it was obvious from jump or no one even thought about it, bc at this point i didn’t have a tumblr yet and was only posting to ao3 and instagram and had NOOOOOOOO reader interaction. so! who knows. but you can keep that knowledge in your pocket for future chapters, that i’m always dropping lil hints :)

Devi stands in uncomfortable silence while the register sings a little waiting tune. She looks up, into the eye of the camera mounted above the register’s display, and watches herself in the monitor while a message below it flashes RECORDING IN PROGRESS.

one of my first days living in the city i went to a home depot and bought a bunch of sharp things bc i was working on a cosplay and needed to carve a bunch of foam, and i got ID’d for all of it and i was so so fresh to the city and so young and probably very high and just felt mortified, like i just stared at myself in the monitor being like “you’re not cut out for this world” HAHAHAHAHAH anyway. that stuck with me.

The two of them stand at the same height, almost elbow to elbow, wearing distant familiarity and abject horror as they stare into each other’s pixelated faces. Devi watches him in the display as she reaches into her pocket, produces her wallet, pulls out her ID, hands it to him with a shaking hand. He punches in her birthdate without having to look.

somethin else i love is vagueness n ambiguity in writing. i haaaaate when writers spoon feed things to their audience bc it implies TO ME that they don’t trust them or think that they’re smart enough to connect the dots. it really offends me!!!! i made sure i didn’t ever explicitly state that devi is interacting with nny because in a traumatic moment like that it’s hard for my brain to even really put words or a name to it, if that makes sense?? i wanted to try and evoke that feeling of like, you know what’s happening and it’s so bad you can’t even really say it.

Her heart is beating fast against her ribcage, but maybe out of exhilaration more than panic or paranoia. She saw him. He was smaller, more human-like than her brain had crafted him into over the years.

you ever have an absolute mortal enemy, like an ex or a bully in school, and then you get a glimpse of them years later, after you spent so much time molding them into like an evil dastardly goblin in your brain, and they’re just like. a person?? with other shit going on, just like you? and it kind of feels like. huh. okay. and you can suddenly move on??? a special kind of spooky.

and now here’s a lil from stixxx :)

Penetration is penetration, Johnny. What difference does a few inches above or below the belt make, in the grand scheme of things? “That’s a gross oversimplification.”

i remember so vividly getting this little bit of dialogue in my head during work and writing it in my notes app to remember it. it sat at the bottom of the doc for MONTHS (i started writing stixxx back in june 2023 and it was in a much different place) and when i finally was able to place it into the fic proper it felt :) so good

The girl’s been splayed out on her back, propped up on a cinder block that places her a foot off the ground. Her arms are pulled over her head, both wrists zip tied to their own blocks. The same for her legs. With her wavering strength it seems hard for her to keep steady; she shakes visibly on camera.

this whole setup is based on a jthm strip i wrote when i was 13 after /i/ was watching robot wars while eating a chick-o-stick (i was addicted to chick-o-sticks for a while. and charleston chews.)

Her eyes pop open. Purple, syrupy vomit bursts from under her gag and through her nose and fills her throat, stopping up her windpipe.

fun fact about me! i was once severely emetophobic! scariest thing in the world to me! i think the reason i write about vom so much is because 1) it used to evoke such fear in me and i know it does for a lot of people 2) it’s such an insane pretty involuntary thing we do as creatures??? and i think it is one of most vulnerable states to be in tbh. i still think it is icky and i would prefer to never interface with it in person ever but! endlessly fascinating to write about ????

He meanders down the hall. Opening doors. Closing doors. Dining room. Linen closet. Foyer. Staircase leading to the ceiling—how original.

staircase leading to the ceiling is a reference to this little lady at the winchester house

i know lots of ppl make connections between 777 and house of leaves, but i always assumed the influence was very much attributed to the winchester house since jv grew up in san jose (n because jthm predates hol!) those wacky stairs are my favorite part of the whole house. the first time i saw them i felt unease that stuck with me forever :)

Since when do we have a ball pit? My little film screening was only to illustrate just how much you’ve suppressed through the years. But at some point you have to jump in, Nny. Swim through the proverbial multicolored plastic balls of your memory. Fish out all the band-aids and… and missing socks and… little parachuting army men. Johnny stares into the gaping maw of the in-ground ball pit that’s apparently in his house now. “That one got away from you a little bit.” Metaphors ain’t really my thing.

when i wrote this i was like “i am so funny” and i read it now and am still like “i am so funny”

i love to write rev meat. he’s so fascinating to me. i love that he was introduced and barely explained right before jthm wrapped up. so much mystery. what a freak.

thank you for ur interest :) i love to talk

[sunrisenovaa]

blessed joan, duty bound to God, give me courage

or in which i finally did the hazel joan of arc catholic guilt fic

tagging: @hazellvsq & @daisymooonart bc you inspired this

St Joan of Arc, give me strength: In this, my time of need, I beg thee to come to my aid. I humbly ask thee to help me bear my trials with honour, As I remember you in your earthly agonies.

The words, though familiar, feel foreign on her tongue as Hazel mumbles them. Marie coughs beside her as the oil fills the cavern and she looks out into the silky black. 

She is 13. She is 13 years old and she is dying and for some reason she can’t quite understand, she is praying to a saint. 

Joan of Arc is who she chose for her confirmation a year ago right before they left New Orleans. She hadn’t wanted to be confirmed, but Marie had insisted. 

“I won’t have a sinful child in my house,” her mother had spat. Hazel had wanted to argue, to say that a sinful child had always lived in that house, that sealing her soul to a god neither of them believed in wouldn’t change that. 

Instead, she bit her tongue, let the ladies of the parlour fuss over her hair and the silky white dress she had been forced into. She had looked like a bride, and Sammy had made jokes the entire day about how she must be getting married since she was so damn uncomfortable.��

At the time, Hazel had rolled her eyes and sucked it up. Not unlike how she was sucking up crude oil now. 

Her vision begins to fade and she remembers hearing the story of Joan of Arc for the first time. A girl from France who heard the voice of God. A girl, not much older than Hazel who had something to prove, and did. A girl who died for her beliefs. 

“Joan,” she says, begging and pleading with a figure she knows isn’t there. “Please save us. Pardon us from our sin like God did to you. I will stand watch. I will let your mercy shine through me.” 

She’s rambling, not making sense as the oil seeps further towards her, covering her body and burning at her skin. She sees a girl in the depths. A girl with short brown hair and dark eyes. She is lily white. The kind of girl Hazel’s mama told her to stay far away from. 

“My mercy is not needed.” The girl, Joan, says. She presses a ghostly hand against Hazel’s forehead. “Sleep my child. It’ll be over soon.” 

The cavern rumbles and Hazel’s eyes roll back in her head. The last thing she sees is the girl’s face disappearing into the ink, and her last thought is a prayer she never should have mumbled in the first place. 

After all, God doesn’t help sinners. He’s never helped her before.

[morvantmortuary]

okay so my buddy @somethingthatsaysbubbles has been nice enough to tag me in six sentence sundays twice now and I keep! forgetting!! so this is me doing two to make up for it lmao

both under the cut so I don’t crowd dashes bc lmao of course I wasn’t just going to post six sentences, are you kidding me?

and bc of some very slight nsft in the last one

no-pressure tagging some friends in the meantime! @rosemaremembrance @maximoffwxnda @bigtiddythanos @illegalcerebral @lightinthedarkuniverse/ @jmathesonandsiblings @pondering-and-wondering @lorna-d-m @scuttle-buttle @eldritchcircus @somethingthatsaysbubbles @ebiemidnightlibrarian @norabrice1701 and anyone else feeling up to it!

I. conversations at the cemetery line -

Leon chuckled. “Well, who else is there, champ? Your brother,” he said quietly. “We all heard he’s a scrapper, when he needs to be. But it’s been a while, and his daddy ain’t around to beg anyone to go easy on him anymore.”

“First of all, Hex is my cousin, and second of all, he can hold his own just fine,” Maxi snapped, his eyes red as a fresh wound.

“Sure, sure. But can the Belle of the Ball?” Leon asked, tilting his head with a smile showing too-long teeth. “Word is she’s up giving pretty boy a run for his money still. That would mean she’s fair game, too.”

“Ask your employers,” Maxi said flatly. “She ruined their whole party, you were there.”

“You Lifers, you really let being born into this make you think you know shit about shit.” Leon closed the distance between them so they were eye to eye, what little gray there was seeming to drain from his irises and pupil to leave only a ghastly white. “Did you really think you all could get out of this unscathed, boy?” His voice changed drastically, like gravel had scraped his vocal chords. “Show them up in their own house and go home to laugh about it?”

“Who’s laughin’?” Maxi said, his voice lowering to near a growl of his own.

“You’re gonna get yourselves killed, kid. Did you really think They’ll stop at just you? You think they won’t come for that little friend of yours once they chew through your family line? That they won’t come for everyone who ever laid eyes on you, and everyone you ever called a friend? They make ghost towns. I’ve seen ‘em do it.”

II. an indecent proposal --

Silence stretched like skin over an abscess, tight and uncomfortable. Maxi and Rora met each other’s eyes, before he and Hector seemed to have a long, oddly tense shared stare. Finally, when something between them was wordlessly settled, they both looked back to Rora.

Rora paused, her glass halfway to her mouth again. “…What. Why’re y’all lookin’ at me.” She looked between the two of them, irritated now. “Why am I the one makin’ the call?”

“It was your suggestion,” Maxi drawled, with not a small bit of snark. “Figured it’s only fair.”

“Plus you’re the one who knew what moon we needed,” Hex added. “And all that stuff.”

“Because it’s common sense, if you thought about it for even a half a second,” Rora sighed, putting her glass down to pinch the bridge of her nose. “And if either of you ever bothered to study—“

“I didn’t!” Hector said, throwing his hands in the air. “I didn’t, we both know I didn’t, why do you keep talking to me like I’m suddenly gonna wake up and want to memorize all the esoteric bullshit our dads never made me learn!”

“Because if you want the title at all, and don’t want to be an embarrassment to the entire lineage,” Rora turned to Hector, sounding like she was revving up on an ongoing argument. “You need to know your shit outside just ‘Ghost go poof’.”

“You know what, puta,” Hector turned, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You always wanna talk shit about the Veil, but you’re just mad you could never—“

“Oh puh-lease, Hector, tell me what I don’t know about the goddamn Veil, since I’m the one that’s actually been there—“

“Jesus Christ, not this again,” Maxi sighed, rubbing his temples. “Y’all, leave it alone, c’mon.“

“Butt out, Maxi, you abdicated.” Rora glared at her brother.

“Yeah, no one asked,” Hector agreed over Rora’s shoulder.

Maxi’s hands fell to the kitchen table, eyes dark. “That don’t mean I can’t fuse both y’all’s lips closed right now—“

You weren’t sure if it was the tequila that made you knock twice on the table, or made you ask, loudly: “Are you guys fucking me tonight or what?”

--

and now I’m just gonna leave these here :3 thanks for thinking of me, linds!

[pluckyredhead]

I definitely do not want this to be a bait question, so please feel free to ignore it! I was curious about your take on Supergirl Woman of Tomorrow. Generally in the broad DC fandom, the opinion on Tom King's work is not great imo. But most ppl seem to love Supergirl. Based on the summary itself I feel like I wouldn't like it because it seems like hurt without comfort, but I haven't actually read it, so /shrugs. Anyway wanted to hear your thoughts on it bc I do appreciate your comics posts!

I LOATHED IT. You're 100% right, it's all hurt no comfort. It's yet another example of Tom King getting an insanely talented artist (the brilliant Bilquis Evely) who makes his unimaginative, repetitive writing look profound. I could rant for ages but I'll try to boil it down to key points:

It is literally a ripoff of True Grit. Like he just wholesale stole the plot.

IT'S NOT ACTUALLY ABOUT SUPERGIRL. The main character is an alien teenage girl named Ruthye whose father is murdered, so she hires Supergirl to help her track down her father's killer. It's Ruthye's story, told entirely via Ruthye's narrative, and Ruthye is the character who grows and changes. Supergirl could be replaced by Lobo, or Krypto, or a big stick.

As usual, Tom King doesn't even make the faintest attempt to stay in character. His Supergirl is a surly, miserable drunk who has to be begged to help people.

He also very clearly read exactly one Supergirl comic - her origin story from 1959 - and nothing else. It's the only previous Supergirl canon referenced. There's a whole issue where he retells it in painstaking detail, except he takes a silly Silver Age story and puts it through the Unnecessarily Bleak filter. He explains his miserable take on Kara by wallowing in the trauma of Argo City's destruction. At one point, 15-year-old Kara finds a dead baby. I want to be clear that this backstory is at least FOUR RETCONS OUT OF DATE, but he decided to go back to it because he apparently refused to read more than 8 pages about Supergirl as research, and then he put a dead baby in it.

Supergirl was created to appeal to little girls. This is not my opinion, this is absolute fact: she was designed to get little girls to read more Superman comics. To this day, she remains one of the very very very few characters who is well known enough that little girls can relate to and identify with her, thanks to the CW show (which had its faults but got her character very right) and DC Super Hero Girls. Woman of Tomorrow treats Supergirl, her history, and her intended audience with complete contempt, and making a movie of it that little girls can't see because this shit is going to be rated PG-13 if not R is peak "I am feel uncomfortable when we are not about me?" behavior from a grown-ass man. SUPERGIRL DOESN'T HAVE TO APPEAL TO EDGELORDS. SHE WASN'T MADE FOR THEM.

Anyway yes I hate it very very much, and it doesn't surprise me that people who have never liked or read Supergirl think it's great, because it isn't Supergirl.

For a better take on Supergirl who yes, has experience trauma but is still in character, I recommend the current World's Finest series by Mark Waid and Dan Mora. For an AU with an angsty Kara who is still true to the core of herself, Supergirl: Being Super by Mariko Tamaki and Joelle Jones. The upcoming Legion of Super-Heroes movie also looks excellent in this regard.

[whats-wild-to-you]

need some angst in my life

girlfriend is upset at him and wants to leave bc he never tells her anything

like does not share his feelings or when he’s tired etc

“bc what’s the point of being in a rs if you cant even trust me “

tears and angst where he begs and tells her he’ll change

thank you 🥲

oh shit 🥺 vulnerable Jay clinging on to his lover _______________________________________________________

This was it! The last straw. Your breaking point.

For months you had been lenient with Jay, trying to put yourself in his shoes. But it seemed that the more you let him be, the more closed off and secretive he became around you.

To the point were you began to thinking if you were at all together anymore.

"Are we still together?" You asked one day over breakfast.

Thanks to his manager, you knew his schedule for the week. He would fly to China tomorrow to shoot for a show but he didn't think it was necessary to inform you in advance.

You watched him furrow his eyebrows in confusion before he answered calmly. "What do you mean? Of course we're together!"

"Really? Doesn't feel like that to me! I never know were you are, or what you're doing!"

One thing you had told yourself when Jay and you started dating, was that you'd never be one of those clingy girlfriends who demanded updates on their boyfriend's whereabouts every hour. Still, it would've been nice if Jay shared his schedule with you.

"Work is work, babe. I don't want to bore you with details!"

"Huh! Do I bore you with details when I tell you about my work day then?"

"No, I-"

"It's not like you're a thug or something! What's the problem? You don't want me to know what you're up to? I see a lot of it on the tv, the internet and in magazines anyway."

"Right? So why would I talk to you about stuff that you already know?"

"I'd like to know in advance! Is that too much to ask? That you open up to me and share stuff with me? You've been on autopilot ever since the year began and if it wasn't for your manager, I wouldn't even know when you leave the country!"

Jay was visibly struggling to come up with an answer that would ease your mind, but failed.

"Is there someone else?"

"OMG, no!"

"You don't sound very convincing."

After clearing the table and loading the dishwasher, you watched Jay getting ready for a busy day ahead.

Having made up your mind, you called after him when his hand reached out to grab the door handle.

"If you decide to change your attitude and start including me in your life I will come back to you. Until then I'll be sleeping at my parents' house."

Jay wanted to argue, you knew he did. But then he checked the time and realized he was already late.

A low chuckle escaped your throat when you too began packing your stuff into a suitcase.

Three weeks later you still hadn't heard from Jay. It didn't surprise you. Thanks to twitter, instagram and updates from his manager, you knew he was very busy. But still, it hurt. You felt neglected. Even amidst all the chaos shouldn't he find a few seconds to text you? Let you know he's alive and well?

You deliberately hadn't told your parents why you were suddenly sleeping back in your old room and hoped they wouldn't start asking uncomfortable questions.

But after three weeks, you started feeling uneasy.

Why weren't they asking uncomfortable questions?

It was Saturday night and you returned home from a girls' night out with your friends when you spotted Jay's car in the driveway.

Sprinting to the door, you pushed it open, barging in the living room.

"What are you doing here?" YOU barked at Jay.

"Honey, don't be mad!" Mother answered instead and grabbed your father's hands, allowing Jay and yourself to talk in private.

"I've been coming here every night for the past three weeks, talking to eomeonim and abeonim."

"So you're avoiding me?"

"No. I just don't want to lose you! Baby, you're the best thing that ever happened to me. I need you in my life. I-"

"You had me. But you didn't appreciate me. You were keeping me in the dark."

"Sit. Please."

You sighed, looking at his pained expression, then sitting down opposite from him. This was it. The moment of truth. His once chance to redeem himself. After tonight, you would either go back to being a couple or you would end up becoming strangers. For you, there was no in between.

"When we first began dating, your parents didn't like the fact I was a celebrity. They didn't want their daughter to suffer unnecessarily. I promised them I'd keep you out of that part of my life. That is not me anyway. You don't want to know this guy. I didn't want you to fall in love with him either. I wanted you to see me for who I really was." He concluded his monologue and even from where you were seated you could see the unshed tears filling his eyes.

"I see. But you could've talked to me!"

"I didn't want to lose you! I didn't want you to fight with your parents over this, they only want what's best for you. When I first came here they told me they had already talked to you, that you knew about their conditions and that they had chanced their mind about me since then. Why didn't you tell me? You keeping things to yourself too. If I had known, I would've talked to you sooner!"

"I do keep things to myself." You said ruefully.

"From now on I won't be keeping any secrets from you, and inform you about everything. Instead, if you feel left out, you have to tell me immediately, okay?"

You nodded, allowing your facial muscles to relax. "Okay."

Raising to your feet, you walked over to Jay, kneeling in front of him. With the sleeve of your sweatshirt you wiped away his tears, while he promised again and again to change and become a better boyfriend.

[stultusharley]

Sorry for trauma dumping, but Tumblr is the only safe place that I have.

So, I used to be friends with these two girls (A and Y). They were my world, I did everything for them. I cared about them more than my family. All I wanted was them to see me the same. But they always left me out. We have known each other since first grade. I was bullied from second till seventh grade. A was in love with my bully and Y dated one of his close friends for a couple years. They never defended me. Not in second nor in seventh grade. They even helped him sometimes. They called me Dome (which is heavily overweight women in a German show) in sixth grade even though I was underweight at that time. I wanted to lose weight and begged my mom to let me join weight watchers. I cried every night, just wanting them to see me like they saw each other. The best days were when one of them was sick, so I had the other one for myself and didn't get left out. I really tried to be liked by everyone. I tried being normal for some time. I was always boyish and weird. (Turns out I have ADHD and am genderfluid) Around seventh and eighth grade I really tried to fit in. Wore Makeup and copied the others behavior. Still got left out. I saw how they often flirted with each other and I admit, this was very wrong from me and I am deeply sorry for that, but I often made them very uncomfortable by trying to do the same and I often took it way too far. I stopped after eighth grade.

Actually, the beginning of eighth grade was really great, we knew an old classmate (R) from primary school would join us, so there would be an even number of friends and maybe I wouldn't be left out anymore. I was very pessimistic though and knew that Y would sit next to her bf and A next to R and I was right. I ended up sitting with S, a guy who was also bullied. It still worked out for the first semester and J was even able to sit next to A for a while. Then the twin sister of an classmate (A2) joined. And she was perfect. Blond, tall, pretty, good style, funny and liked by all the boys. Just perfect. A became best friends with her and he'll started again. They even started a group chat without me and send me pictures of them hanging out without me and it broke me. Worst thing, I developed feelings for Y. She's so pretty and she has the most beautiful eyes and when it's just us, she was so funny and nice and I just loved her, with all my heart. Nothing really changed after that, just being left out and me crying every night, praying (I was christian) to be normal and making my friends more and more uncomfortable.

After eighth grade we all went to different schools, except Y and me. We went to the same that had a boarding school and we ended up sharing the only two bed room, all the others were four beds. (I wanna mark that I'm asexual and would never look at anything inappropriate and that I stopped making them uncomfortable) It was fine till she found new friends. She constantly invited them in our room even though I have social anxiety. I always locked myself in the bathroom and tried studying there. Y was often begging me to unlock the door and when I did, she filmed me while I was sitting on the floor learning. (She asked me if it was ok and I agreed, but was visibly uncomfortable, bc I only agreed to make her happy) Also at the beginning of the school year we were allowed to switch rooms one time after everyone got to know each other and some wanted our two bed room. Y agreed to give it up and to move in with two loud girls, but had to ask me first. I was working out with another classmate at that time and she called me. Again, I wanted to make her happy and agreed at first, but was trying my best to show that I don't actually want to, bc again, social anxiety. She didn't notice the sign, so I had to call her again and begged her to not give up our room bc I couldn't take two more roommates that I barely knew. She got really mad and I went to where they were discussing all this to sort this out. I was crying at that point btw. When I got there she was screaming at me, yelling bc I'm messing everything up by being egoistic and that one classmate (who was a loner and just didn't want to move out of her room) was already crying. I screamed back at her that I was crying too and that I would be really uncomfortable with other roommates. They later were able to sort it out so that everyone was happy, but Y was still mad at me.

Another situation in boarding school was, when a friend of ours had her male cousin (18 yo) over. Mark, we were an all girls class and when our classmates found out, they were all over him, making him visibly uncomfortable, ate the snacks that he bought for our friend and us and not giving the friend a chance to talk to her cousin. I left pretty early. Later, after he left, our classmates left without helping to clean. The friend and Y were mad at them and a huge fight started between them. We studied later together when some classmates stormed in the room we were in and we're still mad at us. Me, trying to protect Y and wanting to help her, went off on them and tried to defend them, but Y got mad at me, yelling that I shouldn't talk to her friends that way and that it was her fault. I went to bed early and slept at home the next day. (I only an hour away, no big deal). After that I became really depressed and started therapy. (No one knew about it)

Another incident was, that I wanted to go to bed early (7p.m.) but Y wanted friends over at our room (remember we have the smallest room) I stood my ground and she went to the others room. She came back once to get something, I was almost asleep but she turned on all the lights and asked me loudly if I was still awake. I asked her to be quiet and maybe use her phone but she got mad and told me that she couldn't do that, but after a while agreed to it. (Btw, I got up in the morning always an hour earlier for breakfast, only turned the lights on in the bathroom and tried to be as quiet as possible, barely making any noise. I also often brought her breakfast) When she came back to sleep, she woke me up again by shining the flashlight in my face and asking me if I was still awake.

I left boarding school around Christmas and drove to school every morning by bus.

We also got a new classmate. Openly depressed, often talked about her ED and SH. I tried to be sorry for her, but it was simply annoying how every conversation with her had to be around her mental health or her stupid horse. (Yes, she had a horse) Y was really worried about her and always supported her, something that she never did for me.

At the end of the school year I met up with A bc my dad had to fix her Moped. Idk how it came to it, but I started venting about Y and A agreed with me and started talking shit about Y. Saying how she was always showing off and trying to steal her crush (her crush was 18 at that time, she 15) and I agreed with her just because it felt good that I wasn't as alone as I thought. Well, I fucked it up. A told Y about our conversation, but mixed it up and said that I was talking shit about Y. Y got really mad and we had a big argument where she just blamed me for always ruining the fun, always being so sensitive and things like that. It was like talking to a wall. I kept telling her how shit I felt and always coming up with new examples, but she just came back with the same argument over and over again. (Btw. I was crying really bad and we were in a room out of class in the middle of the school) After a while I just stood up and said, that apparently we weren't a good fit and that we shouldn't be friends again. She said that it didn't have to end like that and that I should just stop acting like this, but I walked away.

So, here is the thing, this was one day before the class trip and we would be sharing a room for two nights with two other girls. We agreed to just ignore the day before for these few days to keep peace. In the evening, we went to an escape room. We had to make groups out of seven, but we ended up in a friend group of nine around middle of school year. So, me and the friend (with the cousin I mentioned before) got left out. We decided to stick together. Then, Y tried to be a "good person" and joined us. (Probably to look good or for the friend, def not for me) But all teams were already six so we had to separate. Y got with a group that my cousin (L) was in too, the friend got in the original friend group and I got with some girls that I barely knew and probably hated me. Long story short, I got a panic attack. It was zombie themed, so there was often banging on the door, only red lighting, no one was listening to me and my teammates were always screaming and running together to cuddle every time there was banging. One time I was standing in a corner and there was banging again. They ran to me and pressed me against the wall screaming. It was like a switch. I couldn't breathe anymore, I almost started crying and was almost blacking out. It took me five minutes to get the courage to leave the room. The panic attack stayed. I didn't have my phone with me. Then, my friend group finished. I rushed to them and told them that I was having a panic attack and that I needed help. (I was extremely shaking and gave my best not to cry.) Their answer: oh no. And left. Next person that came was Y. Said the same thing to her, almost begging her to help. I still know exactly where we stood, how she phrased it. Cool. Just cool and left to talk to the others. Didn't sleep that night. Panic attack didn't wear down till late in the night. Didn't even know that this could take so long. They always helped the new girl, why not me? Me, the one she knew FOR 9 FUCKING YEARS. 9 years for shit. I was done, just wanted to die.

To this day I always ask myself why not me? Why did she helped everyone, said sorry so often just not me. Why not me...

Feeling for her didn't wear down for over a year. I loved her for over a year even after that. I often wanted to text her to say sorry, hoping she changed. I was writing a poem for her, wanted to give it personally to her the next day, when my mom told me she and R were at the door. I thought they wanted to apologize. NEVER. They would never do that. I posted a couple of vent videos on TikTok. Not mentioning anyone's name. Made characters that had similar personallys like them. They wanted me to delete them. Saying they didn't want me talking shit about them on social media. It wasn't anything wild, just my Oc getting left out, like me. I thought I lost feelings after that, but no, I still loved her and would die for her.

I left school. I'm a confectioner apprentice now. I also found a best friend. Her name is Neah. We met online and she lives four hours away from me, but I didn't know that I could be treated like that. She listens to me. Doesn't always say that I'm cringe or stupid. I feel like she genuinely likes being my friend. I also reconnected with S.

S is still in contact with A, Y and R. They sometimes go partying together. We met up today and he told me that they regret it a bit.

We went no contact over a year ago, AND NOW THEY FEEL A LITTLE REGRET?! Just a LITTLE. Just a little for absolutely traumatizing me, making me believe that no one could ever love me or be my friend. I don't trust anyone, I think everyone hates me, even my new friends. But I'm just to tired. Before I would punch my punching bag till my hands were bleeding.

Now, I'm just sitting here, at 23:34, typing this even though I have to get up at 4:30. I just wish they would tell me they were sorry. Or at least give me a sorry look. I still love them, both of them. Especially Y...

[chairsmessofabrain]

I’m lonely ok this is literally just getting me through the last few days bc I got hit on and then declined it while sitting next to a friend and her bf who were being way too cute and I just got sooo lonely uugh and then and then I saw this adorable comic ab the doctor and miss Abbott and it’s the cutest thing ever so this is what my brain did in response. Enjoy 😊

She’s been out of a relationship for a year now, but it still haunts her to this day. She met a wonderful man and he is so kind, but the issues of the past won’t go away.

“Would you like to come over and finish this bottle?” He inquired.

Her cheeks felt warm, was it from him or the alcohol? Maybe it was both. Her insides did somersaults. Was she ready for this? He seemed so nice, so decent. Es

“I uh-” His eyes clouded with a twinge of disappoint. “Yes. I’d love to,” she forced it out. It wasn’t that he seemed untrusting, but she couldn’t be sure anymore. But she couldn’t disappoint him either. She had never been any good at that.

His face lit up. He was so handsome when he was happy. She preferred them happy. It was less dangerous.

They continued their conversation for a few blocks. The houses in this area were gorgeous, quaint but gorgeous. He tugged her hand as he turned up the sidewalk of a small navy house. “This is me,” he jingled through his keys to unlock the door.

“It’s so nice,” she say quietly and stepped through the threshold.

“What’s you take me for? A heathen?” He stepped in behind her and locked the door. The inside was pretty too. Nicely decorated, there was a large tv in the living room with a nice entertainment system and a very cozy looking couch.

“Meh. Jury is still out.” There were two doors on the left, he beckoned her to follow through one. She hadn’t seen a house with the kitchen closed off to the living room, but then she noticed there was a bar area, the cutout onto the living room was just closed. She brought the wine over to the counter and sat at the bar while he grabbed the glasses and poured another drink.

“I don’t know but this living situation makes it harder and harder to believe you don’t have all the girls clambering after you” She smirked into her cup.

“Now now, what makes you think they’d like this?” He chuckled, leaning against the counter.

“You’re kidding right? This is like every woman’s dream.” She turned and couldn’t help but stare at the pristine counters. “And the color palette in this room alone? Spill. Who decorated it for you?”

“What you don’t believe I could do this?”

“A male engineer? No, I’ll stick to my biases” she took another sip of the wine. It was really good, who gave it the right?

“Nah you’re right,” he signed with a smile. “I could never, my mom and my sister? They had a field day when they heard I was getting a new house. They were convinced it had to be perfect ‘to impress the ladies’” he chuckled as he took a sip from his own glass.

“Well,” she looked over at him. He looked so good, or was it the wine talking? “You can tell them it worked, again” she let a playful smile spread across her lips as she stared at him. She couldn’t help it anymore.

“Again? My dear you’d be surprised! you’re the first woman I’ve brought here after a date,” he turned to her. His grey blue eyes were so enticing, she had to avert her gaze as she blushed. The term “my dear” sent something through her she hadn’t felt in ages. She wanted to let herself believe he was telling the truth, but the thought tugged in her mind: don’t get too attached. You’ll only get hurt.

She couldn’t help but feel his gaze on her still, begging her to let him say wonderful things that would pull her in hook line and sinker, but she’d already told him she hates hearing them. They sound so cliche, not to mention she’d fold so easily when he did say them, and she couldn’t afford that.

Change the subject. Fast. Please, she thought, trying to come up with something to take his gaze off of her. It made her uncomfortable, but not in a bad way, just in one she didn’t know if she was ready for.

“So, um, did they also help you choose your entertainment system, to impress young girls like me?” She finally dared to look at him again.

He quickly turned his gaze to his glass and laughed “no, no. That was all me. I love a good screen to watch Bambi on, you know?” He flashed that award winning smile. She couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“You’re kidding right?” She finally caught her breath and his expression. “Oooh no You’re not. I don’t know which one would be better honestly.” She wiped the single tear from her eye as she let out another giggle. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, alcohol makes me giggle. It’s not- it’s not funny.” She tried being serious, but his eyes twinkled and he feigned offense.

“I’m sorry. Yes it is, that’s so funny to me” she couldn’t hold in her giggles anymore.

“I would be sad, if your laugh wasn’t the best sound I think I’ve ever heard,” he responded. “I think i could listen to it for hours.” A smile danced across his lips as he just stared at her. She had to turn away, blushing the whole time. “I’m sorry that was a little direct,” he looked into his drink. “I forgot what you told me earlier, wine makes me loose lipped and that was a little much I apologize.”

“No- no don’t apologize,” she whispered, trying to force herself to look at him again. To see the intent in his eyes. When she finally did, she wanted the think, to know that she could believe him and what he said. “It’s nice coming from you..”

His eyes brightened a little as he studied her face. She wanted to know what he was looking for, what he saw in her. He gazed a little too intently for her, making her blush and turn away again.

“What about you?”

“What about me,” she turned back, puzzled.

“Your favorite movie? I’ve given you mine, I’ve bared all to you in that admission,” he gave her a cheeky grin. “Now you must tell me your embarrassing favorite movie.”

“What makes you think mine is embarrassing? Or that I’m embarrassed by my favorite movie?”

“Oh come on,” he finally turned to sit on the stool next to her, nudging her shoulder. “There has to be one movie out there that you’d be embarrassed to say you like.”

“Not that I’m embarrassed by it,” she shoved him back. “But I adore The Princess Bride”

He reached up and opened the shutters that closed off the living room from the kitchen.

“Then that’s what we will watch.”

“And why not Bambi?”

“Because I want to know ever little nuance of why you like The Princess Bride,” he turned the tv on and began searching. “And I want to hear you giggle again.” This time, he said it much quieter, she wasn’t sure he said it on purpose, she barely caught it, but she blushed again anyways.

“What makes you think I don’t want to know your infatuation with Bambi?”

“Because,” he said teasingly “it’s Bambi. Everyone loves Bambi. What isn’t there to like?”

“I could argue the same for The Princess Bride.”

“Maybe. Maybe. But I’m the owner, so I get to pick the movie”

“Ooooh you must be the oldest,” she laughed.

“What makes you think so?”

“‘It’s mine so I choose’? That is either peak only child or peak oldest sibling, and considering you said your sister helped decorate, you’re not an only child”

“Oh, ouch,” he feigned betrayal. “I was hoping you wouldn’t pay attention to that.” She just smiled into her glass as the opening credits played.

….

She hadn’t noticed herself leaning onto him until she felt her head hit his shoulder and she jolted upright.

“I thought this was your favorite?” His voice was low. “How could you fall asleep during this?” She let out a small,quiet laugh, trying not to let herself doze onto his shoulder again.

“I uh, I don’t usually fall asleep during movies..” she sat up straighter and glanced at the clock. It was almost 2 am. “I uh, I should probably go home. It’s late.”

“I’d be inclined to agree, if either one of us was sober enough to drive,” he joked softly. “I can call an Uber for you if you want.” He pulled his phone out and slid it to her. She typed in her apartment as best she could in her sleepy state. She had forgotten the drive was 30 minutes to the restaurant and they were within walking distance. He glanced over her shoulder. “Phew that’s a drive, how opposed would you be to staying in my guest room?” She glanced up at him but he looked earnest.

“What, so you can seduce me with wonderful singing and breakfast in bed in the morning?”

He flashed that beautiful grin. “Maybe. Well yes that, and I don’t trust Uber drivers this late for that long of a drive. I know you’ve only known me for a few hours but that’s longer than you’d know the Uber driver,” he chuckled. “Plus you’d get complimentary breakfast and coffee.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, as if that was more enriching than being able to just fall asleep sooner.

He was right, the 30 minute long drive did not sound as appealing as the guest bed that was right there. “But what would I wear?” She joked.

He gave her a mischievous grin, the kind that made her stomach twist and she regretted the question. “I mean, preferably nothing, but-”

“Well geez thanks for ruining the moment,” she retorted.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughed a bit, in that brotherly ‘i struck a nerve’ laugh. “My sister leaves some t-shirts here for if she is in the city and needs a place to crash. You can borrow something in the dresser. Please don’t walk around naked. That would make the neighbors suspect things.” He got up and took both of their empty glasses to the sink.

“Ha ha, as if seeing me leave in the morning wouldn’t raise questions.”

“Not if I take you home no. My windows are tinted, they wouldn’t suspect a thing,” he quipped.

“Right because we can’t have you keep the playboy image up can we?”

“No no, I’m much too respectable in the neighborhood for that,” he laughed. “So, comfy guest bed, or creepy Uber dude? Your choice.” He walked back over and picked up his phone, standing much closer to her than before.

“Well you’ve put up a good argument. But i don’t know if im fully convinced.” She looked up and saw him standing slightly over her. She thought she could cut the tension between them with a knife.

“I guess i uh, I better show you to the guest room,” he cleared his throat and leaned back, a little too quickly. Did she want him to kiss her? Yes. No?

“Uhm yeah that would be, yeah.” Well that was a sentence there. She chided herself.

He turned and she caught a glimpse of a grin as he said “Alrighty ma’am, this way to your suite.” Sweeping his arms about and a grandiose fashion that made her giggle. He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye, full of mischief, a grin spread wide across his face. He lead her out the second door in the kitchen down the hallway to the extra room and he opened the door wide. The room was pretty, in a modest way, and large. “There’s a bathroom there, towels and rags are under the sink, there should be soap in it? I’m not totally sure how much though. There might be a new toothbrush in the cabinet, if not let me know and I’ll get one in the morning. Extra blankets are in the living room, or you could come cuddle with me,” he wiggled his eyebrows making a stupid face. She smacked his chest. “Offer still stands,” he joked.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” she laughed.

“How do you like your coffee in the morning?”

“Uhm sweet and with cream or milk is fine.”

“Perfect,” he said as he started to step out and shut the door. “Oh, and your eggs?”

She laughed a bit. It’s been a while since someone had made her breakfast, and even then it was only after she had offered something. “Over easy are my favorite, but I’ll just eat a little whatever you want to make.”

“Mm not picky?”

“Well yes I am picky but I’ll try my hardest.”

“Over easy it is then. They shouldn’t be overly hard to do.”

“Was that- was that a pun?”

“Maybe…”

“That was bad. That was so bad.” She couldn’t help but laugh again. It was so corny but she liked corny sometimes. Especially when it caught her off guard.

He let out a soft laugh “but it made you giggle.”

“You act like that been hard to do all night.”

“That’s fair. You fine everything funny. It’s very cute.” She rolled her eyes. “Goodnight,” he closed the door.

“Wait,” she opened the door back up. He spun back around.

“Problem?”

“No,” she bit her lip. “I just wanted to say thank you. It’s been a fun night.” She leaned against the side of the door as be stepped closer to the door frame.

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it,” he smiled. “It’s nice to know I have some talent, even if it is just making the most giggly person ever laugh.” She blushed and then did something impulsive that she didn’t think she would ever do this soon.

She leaned in and kissed him. She had meant for it to be quick and on the cheek, but he had turned his head back to face her as she leaned in. It took them both by surprise, but he recovered faster. And suddenly she didn’t want to stop. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he pulled her closer. She wanted to be here forever. He felt so familiar and safe, something she hasn’t felt in a long time. He pulled away first and looked at her, slightly wild eyed, with a bit of a sparkle in them. She guessed she probably looked about as flustered as she felt.

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t know-“

“It’s ok,” he whispered, pressing his head to hers. “You are one hell of a kisser,” he smiled and she felt her face becoming beet red for the millionth time that night, so red that she buried it in his chest. “But I want to be a gentleman,” his arms were still around her, essentially the only thing keeping her knees from being jello. Then he took a step back and she let him. He grabbed her hand from his chest, which almost made her heart sink. But instead of placing it back at her side as she was used to, he lifted it up and kissed it.

“Are you trying to make me melt?” She whispered.

“Maybe.” He smiled at her. “Goodnight.” He turned and left down to hall to what she assumed was his room.

She closed her own door and pressed her back against it, letting her fingers linger on her lips.

Did she really just do that?

She’s fully known him for only a few hours and she kissed him!

She initiated it!

Damn he was either that cute or she was that tipsy, and the didn’t think it was the latter. If she went to bed now all she would think about would be that kiss. A shower. I’ll go get a shower. That should help. She rustled through the drawers and found a t-shirt and pair of shorts, grabbed a towel and miraculously found an unopened toothbrush and got ready for bed, fully still thinking about that kiss.

[golden-barnes]

Audacity

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: Bucky has a long list of reasons to hate John Walker. But the fake Captain America deciding to flirt with you, definitely takes the cake.

Category: Smut 18+

Warning: Jealous Bucky is just soft dom! Bucky, dirty talk, penetrative sex, slight chocking, closet sex, and just John Walker being annoying

Word count: 1.9k

Author’s note: trying out this new format bc I liked the way it look when I did the Spencer Reid fic. A small spoiler warning for the newest FATWS episode but other than that it’s like an AU bc this really has nothing to do with yesterdays’ episode. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!

There’s a lot to hate about John Walker. The fact that he is trying to replace Steve as a cheap version of Captain America. His stupid face and the way he handles the shield. Even the way he speaks comes off as pretentious and arrogant.

But what really made Bucky seethe with anger is the fact that his little beady eyes would not stop looking at you. Undressing you with his eyes. Taking in every move and gesture you made. It made Bucky’s blood boil. He kept clenching and unclenching his fist. How haven’t you noticed his insisting fucking starring? 

“Can you chip your teeth? Because I’m pretty sure you might by how clenched your jaw” Sam said, patting Bucky on the back. He just rolled his eyes but decided not to say anything. 

There was nothing that can be done. They made a silent pack not to anger the imposter. The government had asked Sam, Bucky and you to help out with a smuggling ring that they have discovered and low and behold, their little Captain America got his ass handed to him. They basically begged them to help. Bucky almost screamed a Fuck no into their faces but you managed to hold him off from punching the soldier that appeared at your apartment. 

You turned around and bent over to pick up something. You were unaware that the fake Captain America licked his crusty lips while looking at you. He kept eying you like a piece of meat. Bucky rolled his eyes again and turned to Sam who was quietly reading the reports.

“Can I punch him?” Bucky whispered to Sam.

“Do you want your pardon to be revoked?” Sam said to him, not even looking up from the reports.

“There’s nobody here. Y/N won’t say anything. You definitely won’t mind.” Bucky whispered, glaring at the blond man that kept staring at you. You clearly didn’t give a shit about him. Therefore, why was he still looking at you?

Sam rolled his eyes at his ex-assassin friend. “Yeah, and later we can steal the shield.” Sam looked up from the reports and pushed them to the side. 

“Exactly! Yeah, now that’s a plan.” Bucky said excitedly, standing up from his chair trying to make his way to John before being stopped by Sam, who grabbed his friend by the arm and pulled him back into his chair. Before Bucky could protest, he heard you whistle at them. 

“Hey, guys! I think I have something.” You said. The three men surrounded you, while you were explaining how you found out the new base location for the smuggling ring.

Bucky tried his best to focus on what you were saying and your explanation, but he couldn’t help but notice that the Kmart version of Captain America was inching closer and closer to you. Didn’t this man have a wife? Bucky swore he read that somewhere. Why does he keep staring and getting closer to you?

“Oh! Sorry, ma’am.” The jackass said, when he “accidentally” bumped into you, he grabbed your waist and forearm to stabilize you. 

“It’s okay.“ You told him, and let out a soft chuckle. Bucky felt his pen explode in his hand. The three of you turned to the pouty super soldier who just rolled his eyes and went back to looking at the schematics. 

You knew something was up with Bucky. He didn’t say anything. Not after the pen exploding incident. Not even when you were joking around with Sam. He loved making witty comebacks to your jokes. It was your thing. 

But maybe it was John Walker’s presence that made it uncomfortable for him. You knew Bucky hated the guy, mostly cause he took Steve’s spot without earning it. But there was something more to this. Bucky has always had a staring problem, but the number of sharp glares he has been sending to Walker has been enough to alert anyone. You couldn’t comfort him, not without making it super apparent that you are dating. And Bucky had already expressed that he doesn’t want to publicize it unless it’s only Sam that’s around. 

“Agent Y/L/N, I think I found something,” Torres said, signaling to you to go follow him upstairs. You took one last look at Bucky, who was still glaring at the oblivious John Walker.

“Damn, I don’t know how you guys get any work done with that around you all the time,” John said, staring at you walking up the stairs. More specifically, staring at your ass. 

Bucky looked at Sam, almost begging him to let him punch the douchebag that is this man. But Sam gripped his forearm. Bucky will not lose his pardon like this. 

“How about we focus on the damn mission?” Bucky almost growled. John Walker put his hands up.

“I’m sorry man. It’s just- look at her.” John sat back and leaned into his chair. From the distance, he could see you talking to Torres. 

“C’mon man. You asked us for our help but we aren’t here to do all the work.” Sam said trying to be the peacemaker between the super-soldier with a murderous gaze and the soldier with the wondering eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah sorry.” John said trying to go back to the records. You were descending from the stairs and walking over to them. John brought his attention back to you. The way your hips would sway when you walked. The confidence in every step. Everything Bucky loved, and apparently fucking John did too.

“Guys, I think we need to rest for today. I am a little bit burned out. I think we all are.” You said, with your hands on your hips. Bucky felt his heart clench, you did look tired. Especially because you were almost doing all the work and piecing all of the clues. 

“That’s an incredible idea.” Sam said stretching in his chair. He also looked tired. It made Bucky feel bad that he has been focusing all his energy on glaring and not helping out. He almost felt guilty.

Almost because a surge of rage flows through him again. John “Can’t take a hint” Walker smirked at you while you were grabbing the files that were on the table. 

Bucky didn’t even give you a chance to say goodbye. To Sam or the annoying motherfucker that made Bucky want to break rule number 2.

“Woah, Buck. what are you doing?” You said while the brunet dragged you around the base. His grip on your forearm was hard but not enough for it to hurt. Bucky wouldn’t hurt you, not in any way you wouldn’t like it. 

There was something about how Bucky was walking, the silence, the way he was searching for something but never letting go of you.

Bucky opened up a closet door. 

“Get in, doll.”  He whispered in your ear, in a low deep voice. You let out a gasp, feeling goosebumps all over your body. You looked at Bucky in the eyes, and you knew he wasn’t in the mood for a fight. You entered the closet space without protesting.

It was a small storage closet. It barely had anything in it so you felt cramped. You turned to Bucky, while he closed the door. The man stalked towards you and you walked backward till your back hit the wall. Bucky had you cornered, and you didn’t mind it.

“Did you have fun, doll?” Bucky said, getting close to your face. His hands went to your hips, pulling you towards him. 

“Buck, what are you talking about?” You whispered to him. Bucky rolled his eyes and took one of his hands off your hips. Placing it on your neck, lightly applying some pressure to it. You gasped at his touch, he chuckled a bit at your reaction. 

“C’mon darling. Did you have fun playing around with the imposter Captain America? I mean he had fun looking at you. So I’m assuming that you had fun being looked at.” He said, with his hand still on your neck and his face inches away from your face. You looked at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

“Oh, you didn’t notice that. Well, I did. Maybe I should teach you who do you belong to. Would you like that sweetheart?” He said, his breath tickling your lip. You nodded, breathless. Bucky smiled at you.

The hand that was around your neck, went to your chin. Grabbing it and pulling you closer so that your lips would meet. His hands started to wander across your body, while yours looped around his neck. 

Your kisses started to grow hungrier, more desperate. As if Bucky spotted kissing you, you would fade away. His hands reached the zipper of your pants and pulled it down. Not even breaking from your kiss, Bucky managed to push your pants down. You break from your kiss to get out of them, while Bucky took off his pants and underwear.

He didn’t wait. He pushed you softly back on the wall and started to leave kisses and soft bites all over your neck. 

“Jump, baby girl,” He said softly against your skin, patting your butt.

 And you did just so. Wrapping your legs around his waist, with one of his hands on your ass and another moving your panties to the side. 

“Hold that there, baby. Let me make you feel so good.” Holding his neck with one hand, you moved another hand to hold your panties to the side, to make it easy for him.

“Good girl.”And with one thrust, he was inside you, hitting all the spot. You moaned and gripped the back of his neck tightly.

“Like that doll? Can anyone else do this to you uhn? C’mon doll give me everything you got.” With every word that came out of his mouth, he would thrust hard and deep into you. You felt lightheaded. Your legs tightening around his waist but his thrust wouldn’t stop.

“Fuck, Buck. Don’t stop.” You gasped. Bucky kept kissing your neck. Overloading your senses. You were close, you knew it. Bucky knew it. You could feel him grin against your skin.

“Who makes you feel this good, doll?” He asked. You gasped at his sudden change in pace. He started to thrust more desperately, less controlled. He was close too.

“You. Fuck, only you.Shit, Bucky. I’m going to cum.”  Bucky smirked at you.

“Then cum, doll.” Bucky silenced your cries with his lips. Still thrusting into you, letting you ride your high and getting to his. And that wouldn’t be long.

With one final thrust, Bucky came. He gave you a soft kiss on the lips and let you down.

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes.” You said, putting on your pants.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He smiled at you. You slapped his chest lightly, which made him laugh.

“I hope you realize that I would never go with discount Captain America over there.” You joked which made Bucky laugh even harder. You both were dressed and tried to look as decent as you could to leave the closet and the base.

“Let’s hope that fucking in an army base won’t be the reason you lose your pardon.” You said, grabbing Bucky’s hand, to give him reassurance. He gave you a smirk.

“Maybe if we let them watch, they won’t take it away,” Bucky replied to you, giving you a wink. 

“Yeah and get John Walker to join would also help your case.” Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked at you.

“Oh, you are gonna get it when we get home.” Now it was your turn to wink at your boyfriend.

“I’m hoping I do.” Bucky shook his head but pulled you closer to him. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, walking towards the exit of the base. Confident that John Walker couldn’t take you away from him.

[adorerdraco]

Whole Lot of Red ✧ Draco x Reader

Summary: Sneaky meet ups with Draco where nobody knows the two of you have a thing for the other until the day he sees someone flirting with you and lets his jealousy get the best of him. AU where its around seventh year and Voldermort never existed so Draco never got traumatized !

Warnings: light smut/hinted smut, jealous/possessive-ish Draco, a little more mature themes 

Words: 1.8K

A/N: aging him UP for this one ! and making draco a tad rude bc the way i picture it is just WOW also i like to try to change up the way i write him sometimes :) also couldn’t find this gif anywhere so if it looks low quality its bc i made it >:( i want so badly for him to walk up to me like thaaaat anyways I HOPE THIS IS GOOD

It was a funny thing, feelings, and the way they blossomed in places they had no business being in. Those very specific stomach churning butterflies and skipped heartbeats were unmistakably there every time you found yourself in the Slytherin Prince’s presence. It was a shame really, you had never even given him the time of day prior to the time you were forced to work on a Charms project together but now here you were; completely and undeniably entranced by him. 

Your group of y/h friends and you were gathered in the foyer outside the Great Hall, the doors wide open and welcoming students for the lunch that was going to be served in just a few minutes. Your friends were lost in conversation and you couldn’t be happier as your focus darted around the room hoping to spot the platinum mop of hair.

Out of sheer coincidence, a boisterous group of Slytherins had entered the foyer from the direction of the dungeons, all talking loudly and jokingly pushing each other as they came into view. Your eyes landed on the laughing blond in the middle, his toothy grin almost twinkling under the sunlight that streamed in through the large medieval windows. His gaze wandered around the room for a moment before stopping on you, the smile on his face morphing into a smug knowing smirk. 

A shivering weakness shot up your legs, your heart doing somersaults in your stomach as you recalled the previous night. It involved you sneaking out of the common room to meet Draco in a dark and hidden corner of the castle in the dead hours of night, his Prefect duties long finished and a looming fear of getting caught by Filch. It was you being backed into said corner, his body flush against your quivering one, a strong hand clamped tightly over your mouth to muffle the whimpers that unwillingly left your mouth as his lips left trails of wet kisses along the exposed skin of your neck and chest. It was his knee in between your legs, pushing you harder against the wall as your hands got tangled in his hair while he held your face in place by your jaw, whispering compliments and desires into your ear with kisses to it in between, smiling coyly to himself when he heard the small gasps of pleasure coming from you.

All this was because of a simple charms project, the two of you forced to spend a couple weeks together where it was constant bickering and malicious teasing until the tension between the two of you had gotten so overwhelmingly strong it was suffocating. It had gotten so unbearable that one day, Draco finally had enough as you were reading something out of your textbook for him, suddenly knocking it out of your hands and scooting closer to you on the shared bench, his minty breath hot against your face and darkening gray eyes flickering from your lips to your widened e/c’s as he whispered a breathless, “can I kiss you?” 

Post study make out sessions quickly turned into sneaking away from friends throughout the day which finally led into slipping out of common rooms to meet at night. No one ever noticed nor caught on to the two of you, the both of you keeping it a secret so you wouldn’t have to deal with people’s undesired two cents. 

As much as you enjoyed the hands on affection, you found yourself liking the intimacy afterwards even more. You looked forward to sitting down somewhere with him, his arms wrapped warmly around your body as you asked about each other’s day that branched out into talking about anything and everything. You would skip back to your room afterwards, smiling from ear to ear with your head in the clouds until one day it dawned on you; you were in a sticky situation of constantly wondering “what are we?”

You never dared to ask him though, terrified of his answer and that he would leave you in the dust for even bringing it up. In all your years at Hogwarts, you’ve never seen Draco with a girlfriend, he was the most well-known boy at school, an arrogant and proud Slytherin, a skilled quidditch seeker, and an irresistible flirt. But never having the title of ‘the boyfriend’, despite the countless girls that hung off his arms nearly begging for his attention.

“Y/N,” your friend broke you out of your thoughts, a sly smile on her face as she elbowed your side. “Your little friend is headed this way.”

You looked at her in confusion, turning your attention towards the tall Gryffindor, Trevor, that was walking towards your small group, a bright smile on his face as his eyes stayed trained on you. Your friends giggled teasingly, already knowing what his presence would ensue. He was nice, but annoying as he relentlessly flirted with you every time you had your Transfigurations class with him. You just chose to ignore him even though he always ended up sitting next to you or around you no matter how many times you moved. He was someone who you complained restlessly about to your group which caused them to laugh and poke fun every time he would come up to you around them.

“Y/L/N!” He said happily, attempting to give you a hug as he came up to you which you only begrudgingly returned with a lazy side hug. He took your hand, leading you a few feet away from your group so he could talk to you privately. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet up at the library after lunch to study for our test later this week?”

“Oh,” you trailed off, trying to come up with an excuse but in the midst of your thoughts you remembered you had already made plans with Draco. Speaking of, you had forgotten he was only across the room, unbeknownst to you that he was staring hard at you and your classmate. “I’m busy today.”

“How about after tomorrow?” He asked again hopefully. “We can even go to Hogsmeade after, butterbeers on me!”

You frowned slightly, knowing that this was not a friendly collegiate conversation, but another ploy to try and get you to go out with him. His attempts were increasing week by week and you denied him every single time yet he never got the hint.

“Still busy,” you smiled at him, hoping that if you were to appear nice, it would soften the continuous blow of rejection.

“I’m not going to stop asking until you say yes,” he sighs, hands slipping into the pockets of his robe as he longingly looked down at you. “You might as well give in.”

His hand came up towards your hair, a skinny finger brushing through a strand of your hair as he pulled a small fluff of lint from your robes before flicking it into the air. You stood frozen in place, the gesture being painstakingly too much for your comfort and borderline creepy coming from him.

Draco felt himself shake with anger, the sight of you smiling at the Gryffindor and that he was running his fingers through your hair made his blood boil. Greeting the git with a hug. You being led away from your friends by your hand. He hated the sight. The thought of any man other than him being so close to you made him feel sick to his stomach, a rage sparking from deep within him he never even knew existed. He watched as you looked up at the boy above you, a weird expression on your face that instantly let him know you were uncomfortable.

That was it for him. He was seeing red as he threw his schoolbooks into Crabbe’s hands, pushing aggressively past a pair of boys that were in his way as he power walked towards you and your classmate.

“Didn’t you ever learn to keep your hands to yourself?” Draco called out condescendingly in his haughty accent, his scowl deepening as he approached. Trevor’s head snapped towards Draco, a frown etching itself onto his face.

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Trevor sneered. “Go find someone else to bother.”

“Take your own advice, filth,” Draco shot back.

“Filth? You’re one to talk,” the Gryffindor chortled. By now, everyone within a few feet of the debacle was watching, entertained at the argument that was beginning to unfold, your friends and Draco’s goons staring oddly at the encounter. You only stood there, looking between both boys towering over you in a daze that left you paralyzed in your spot. You were so close to telling off Trevor before Draco came, feeling grateful at your delayed reaction now that he was there defending you.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” Draco threatened, stepping in between you and Trevor as he spoke. “Leave Y/N alone, or I swear you’ll regret it.”

“Why? You think she’d pick you over me?” He snickered. “We’ll see who’s the one feeling regretful when you find her making that decision.”

By now, Trevor had stepped up to the spiteful Slytherin, getting in his face with a patronizing smile. Draco’s face twisted up in anger as his temper got worse, shoving his competition back with the side of his forearm, feeling satisfied when Trevor stumbled back.

“Funny,” he laughed darkly, “I seem to remember her already making that decision every single day while we’re snogging.”

Multiple gasps can be heard throughout the foyer, including your own as you gaped up at the blond, his eyes staying focused on Trevor as he looked taken aback.

“You trying to say she’s your girlfriend?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Your legs nearly gave out below you at his response. This was everything you had been hoping for recently, except not like this. But that still didn’t stop you from feeling giddy, however, the bliss of his revelation filling your entire body with glee. The ‘what are we?’ question being ripped from your mind with relief.

“Is that true?” Trevor asks you, a devastated look glazing over his eyes as you slowly nodded. He gives Draco one more pointed look, bumping shoulders with him before he stalked off into the Great Hall in a rush, everyone scattering around to go inside as well now that the show was over.

Draco turned to peer down at you, fury draining from his body as he admired you. He cupped your cheek, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on the opposite side of your face before whispering hotly into your ear.

“If he tries anything with you again, let me know and I swear I’ll deal with him,” he pulls back from you, smiling at you innocently. “I’ll see you later, darling.”

And with that, he sends you a wink, turning around to saunter over to his eager minions while your friends immediately rush towards you with a million questions that you would inevitably have to answer. This was not at all how you expected the day to turn out, not in the slightest.